“Were you going to tell me about this?”
“I decided literally hours ago.”
“You shouldn’t change your life because of me.”
Erin fought to contain her laughter. “I definitely am not doing this for you, Hank.” She looked at him for a split second, then back to Marama. “You are wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but I’m doing this for me. The University of Canterbury is one of few I’ve found to offer an undergraduate program in astronomy. And I feel good here. I’m doing it for me. It’s what I want. I think it will make me happy.”
Erin bit her tongue to stave off tears.
“I can’t argue with that.” Hank kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll change and be out. Hey! Does this mean you’ll join us at the bach on Boxing Day?”
“I wish. Flight’s still the twenty-third. First term starts in February.”
Believing it was a sure thing, Erin realized she had internalized her mother’s judgment of colleges. In the back of her brain, she didn’t think of the University of Canterbury as a real college.
But it was. And what if they rejected her?
SEVENTY-FOUR
To quell any urge of refreshing her mail for the next ten hours, Erin sent an email from her computer two minutes before the family left for Ilam Primary. Even if Lalitha replied immediately, Erin would not check her mail for hours.
Pippa’s long-awaited Kapa Haka performance was casual. Young children sat on the floor before rows of adults in chairs. Toddlers ran rings around the auditorium and babies cooed. This was a family affair.
Pippa’s group took the stage in black lipstick and grass skirts that rattled as they walked. Masculine costumes included a bare chest with only a short black cape on top. Color block tops with thick shoulder straps completed the feminine costumes.
An adult in a similar costume said, “Waiata-a--ringa.”
The crowd quieted as the group started singing a cappella. Pippa’s hands fluttered at her sides as her smile reached Erin. Erin didn’t understand the language, but she understood the dance was of happiness and peace.
The adult on stage said, “Haka,” and students bunched together on stage. One student shouted and others responded. They stomped loudly; this was a battle hymn. A serious, fierce face replaced Pippa’s grin as she clenched her fists at her sides.
Erin’s body tensed until the song was over.
The adult said, “Whakawa-tea,” and the group spread out on stage. Pippa—Pippa!—collected her guitar from the back corner. She strummed a note, tapped her guitar twice, and the students sang.
Pippa became a calmer version of herself, chin held high as if she had accomplished something important. Erin knew Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” and the Ma-ori version was equally effective: Erin breathed deeply as peace settled within her.
Afterward, Erin had a single text from Lalitha.
Litha: If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad. ♥
Erin nearly cried. She was going to be okay. She was on her way to happiness.
Now out of her costume, Pippa ran to hug Erin before introducing her to friends.
Felicity had made fairy bread—buttered bread covered with nonpareils—and it was gone in an instant. Pippa loaded her plate with sweets from other families.
She munched a biscuit. “At the start of next term, we get to learn poi!”
“What’s that?” Erin said.
Pippa stood and looped her arms in front of her face. “It’s a Polynesian ball on a string. When you suss it properly, it’s beautiful. Every time I try it, I make a tangled mess.”
“Well, I look forward to your poi,” Erin said. “I could tell you enjoyed that. I loved watching you dance.”
Pippa beamed.
On Grandma Tea’s birthday, Erin wore a dress over her swimsuit. She stood in the middle of the cottage and asked her grandparents to share the sofa.
“First, happy birthday, Tea. I’m nine, so you’re turning sixty-nine,” Erin said. “Sixty-nine is the same right-side up and upside-down, which is cool. And it’s the solstice, naturally. Also cool. I know we’re doing your favorite hikes today. I even found a new blueberry bush a couple weeks ago and have kept it secret until today. I brought presents from home, but I want to give you this one first.”
Rapt, Erin’s grandparents waited patiently while she tuned her guitar.
“I’m going to need some help.”
Her Grampa stood to help her.
“No, no, no. I’m fine here. You’ll know what to do. Ready?”
She strummed the first few notes of “Sweet Baby James” and Tea’s eyes sparkled.
They sang right on cue.
Erin got flustered in the middle, but they made it through slowly. Her grandparents applauded when she was done.
“I was expecting ‘Happy Birthday’!” Grampa said.
Grandma Tea hugged Erin tightly. “Thank you, my girl.”
“I learned half of his songbook,” Erin said. “And played ‘Carolina in My Mind’ all over Door County during spring break as protest that we didn’t actually go to North Carolina.”
“Good for you,” Tea said. “I couldn’t be more proud.”
SEVENTY-FIVE
In the Southern Hemisphere, the end of school butted right up to Christmas, so Erin’s classmates graduated surrounded by Santas clad in fur, plastic evergreen trees, artificial snow, and twinkle lights.
Twinkle lights were less charming when the sun set at nine.
Hank’s Christmas present to Erin was experiential—a word she thought was him saying experimental incorrectly—and a surprise. As requested, she’d reserved the entire day of December twenty-second.
Erin, who envisioned a long drive culminating with a rock climb at dusk, woke well before the crack of dawn.
Hank rapped quietly before 5 a.m., and Erin tucked her present to him into her little bag; she hoped it was as meaningful to him as everything he’d given her.
She threw in some of Felicity’s biscuits, too. Felicity had left a note: Enjoy your day! See you tomorrow!
Erin loved her. She loved her for not waking up to manage the moment and for leaving a note that made her feel loved.
Erin opened the door to find Hank holding a stainless-steel cup. “Coffee?”
She kissed him before sipping the hot coffee. “Want to come in for a minute?”
“Nah,
