“Good, eh?”
“Really, Hank, I can’t thank you enough for your help. And thanks for the delicious care package.”
“So, I have a confession, too,” Hank said.
“You stole the bike in an effort to spend more time with me?”
He laughed. “That would be a brilliant ploy. Next time, I will. I was going to say Marama was partly responsible for your care package. She gave me the idea. I just dug around your posts to find specifics.”
Erin imagined how that could have happened. “Well, thanks. It did help. Thank you.”
“Any time. Swinging by the sweetshop for caramel slices was no problem. Caramel is my favorite.”
“Well, it was really thoughtful.”
“My pleasure. I like seeing you happy.”
“Have you seen me happy before?”
“Not much. But then, I don’t think you subscribe to my life philosophy.”
“And what might that be?”
Erin considered her own life philosophy while Hank focused on the double roundabout. If pressed, she might say great medical school, great job, great life. That sounded good.
As Hank zoomed into traffic, Erin caught his musky scent. Essence-of-Hank wasn’t fresh, nor was it gross. She drew another breath. His scent was almost intoxicating.
After the roundabout, Hank said, “My philosophy is ‘always ask for what you want, and always do what makes you happy.’”
That suited him. Quietly, hopefully, Erin asked, “So, what is it you want?”
He smiled. “My greatest skill in life has been to want but little.”
Erin gaped at him.
“I didn’t say that. That’s Henry David Thoreau. It’s from Walden.”
Erin knew it was Thoreau, but how did Hank know it was Thoreau? “I don’t understand you at all.”
“Howzat?” He turned into the driveway and their attention turned to Felicity, who stood in the garage with the new bike.
Hank unloaded the old bike, and Felicity said, “I’m so confused.”
She looked between the twin bikes and back at Erin.
Hank said, “Erin bought a bike, but forgot to buy a helmet.”
Grateful, Erin smiled at him. Quick on his feet, this one.
Felicity walked them into the garage and ran her fingers over her new bike seat, now Erin’s new bike seat.
“I suppose you enjoyed biking to school?”
“I did.”
“I guess it’s going to be an everyday thing with you, then?”
Crap.
Erin said, “Yeah, and this one is actually yours. We’ll need to find a way to tell them apart.”
“I’ve got it!” Hank jogged back to his car and emerged with a sticker from The Roxx, which he plastered onto Erin’s new top bar. “She’s a rock climber now.”
Felicity raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
“I am a convert,” Erin said.
Felicity said, “I want to hear all about it.”
FIFTY-THREE
Spring break in New Zealand was two full weeks. Same with autumn break and winter break. Two weeks, three times a year, and one six-week summer break at Christmas.
And every single time schools were on break, the Wakefield family traveled.
“I thought we’d bop around Golden Bay this year,” Felicity said.
Pippa leapt at the news. Literally.
“Golden Bay it is.”
Pippa was bouncing. “Can we stay at the caravan park?”
God, no. No.
“Maybe, Pip. Most people have been booked in for weeks. We’ll see what we can do.”
Pippa left, and Erin said, “So where will we stay, actually?”
“I do think the caravan parks will be full. But we can park the caravan almost anywhere. Not on the beach, of course, but we can get close.”
Either option forced Erin to camp for days on end.
She said, “Do you think I could just stay here? I’m very responsible and have been alone overnight loads of times.”
Felicity said, “This isn’t an issue of trust. Of course, I trust you, but we’d miss you. And you’d miss out. It’s a family holiday, and while you’re here, you’re family.”
That afternoon, Erin muscled her FedEx box into her room, sliced it open, and could not fathom why she’d packed so much stuff.
She’d sorted most of her summer wardrobe when Felicity knocked.
“Erin, mobile service is lousy at Golden Bay. Maybe your holiday would be better if you brought a friend?”
“Probably, yes.”
“Bring anyone you like, then. I really like that Marama.”
“I do, too.” Erin whipped out her phone and texted her.
“Erin?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking before. I don’t have much practice parenting teens.”
Gobsmacked, Erin paused. “I think you’re doing a pretty good job, actually.”
Felicity bit her lower lip and smiled before leaving Erin to her phone.
Marama was sport climbing with Gloria, Hank, and other advanced climbers. Jade was heading to Dunedin. Gemma was seeing relatives on the North Island. Ruby was visiting her grandparents in Perth.
She had to go alone.
In her room, Erin spun in the chair and the room flashed before her eyes: bed, window, bed, stuffed closet, door, bed, window, bed, stuffed closet …
She stopped spinning and texted her mother.
Erin: On “holiday” with no cell service for the next two weeks.
Erin: Email instead and I’ll reply when I’m back.
Claire didn’t respond right away, but Erin knew she wouldn’t text if she thought Erin wouldn’t respond immediately. Two weeks of peace.
She still resented a two-week break without anyone her age. Even the best vacations dragged when Erin was away from her people.
The summer Erin was sixteen, she drove her new Fiat to the U.P. as soon as school was out. Six hours was a long time to dissect five small words.
I’m interested in your brain. The new guy, Ben, had said that to her. Twice. What did that even mean?
She debated until she crossed the bridge into the U.P., and Ben texted her. She pulled over at her first opportunity.
Ben Grey: When do you come back?
Erin: Ten days.
Ben Grey: June 16th?
Erin: At the latest. And I leave again on the 17th.
Ben Grey: Where to?
Erin: Summer study in Massachusetts.
Ben Grey: So are you free the evening of the 16th?
Erin: I am.
Ben Grey: May I take you out on a date?
Erin: You may!
Ben Grey: Do you get a signal up there?
Erin: I do.
Ben Grey: Let’s keep in touch.
Erin: Will do. I’m nearly there. Talk later.
A date, a date, a date, a date! Erin didn’t know people had dates anymore. So formal. And so cute.
