“Swimsuit on. Tramping boots, fleece, jacket, activewear, hat.” She stepped onto the stoop and, on second thought, ran back inside. She flipped over Felicity’s note and scrawled: Thanks! Have a great day working in the garden. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Love, E
Hank rested his hand on her knee as they drove eastward. Erin took in the quiet, dim roads and trees. Light edges of the huge sky hinted that day would soon dawn. Peaceful, Christchurch felt the way home should feel. The comfortable, easy feeling of her grandparents’ cottage. Calm. Serene. Like the lake on crisp mornings.
“So, where are we headed? Sumner Beach?” she asked.
“Close.”
She wasn’t sure what was close to Sumner. “Clifton? Redcliffs?”
“Your guess was close. We’re not going close to Sumner.”
Erin couldn’t stifle a yawn.
“Would you rather be in bed?” Careful, cautious Hank kept his eyes on the road, though yes, she would enjoy another lazy afternoon wrestling in his bed. Since that first kiss—which felt like ages ago—they had enjoyed each other for long hours on end.
She expected some naked time today.
The air thickened slightly as they approached the ocean.
“You’re taking me for a day at the beach?”
“Sort of.”
Hank parked next to a playground that overlooked a beach so vast they couldn’t see either end. “Have you been to New Brighton?”
She hadn’t.
“It’s one of my favorites. Surfing’s no good, but the beach goes on forever. And if the weather turns, the library’s right there.”
Hank handed a small bag to Erin and kept the larger one for himself. They trudged toward the water, Hank glancing between the sea and the beach several times until he’d found the perfect spot. He dropped his bag and laid out a blanket.
On the blanket, Erin kissed Hank’s neck. He turned and lost himself in her for several minutes.
“So, why the beach?” she asked.
“You said you’d never seen a sunrise over the ocean.”
“Or anywhere.”
“Over the ocean is the best. It’ll be up in—” He checked his phone. “Seven minutes.” He ran his hand from her knee to her hip and kissed her lightly. “I don’t want you to miss it.”
It was already bright enough to see everything. The sky was more beautiful than any painting she’d ever seen; streaks of pinks and purples and blues and grays laid atop each other, a colorful textured collage over an ocean of blue on blue on blue.
It was perfect. Just perfect.
A sliver of burnt orange poked into the horizon and slowly became a full circle. Mesmerized, Erin said, “I never imagined it rising so fast.”
Hank whispered, “I’ve always been fascinated by the sun like this. Only on the horizon can you look directly at the sun without damaging your eyes.”
Spectacular morning colors faded quickly as the sun took center stage. Hank slid his arms around Erin’s torso and they lay on the blanket.
“Thanks for giving me the whole day,” he said.
“Thanks for giving me my first sunrise.”
“You bet.” He kissed her sweetly, then less sweetly, and they rolled around on the blanket until a huge brown dog bounded onto them, trying to get in on the action. Its human called it away and more people peppered the beach, so they sat looking outward, fingers interlaced, for a long time.
Erin hadn’t much silence in her life before New Zealand. Before Hank. They talked plenty and did other stuff plenty, but he often left her alone with her thoughts. That was a gift in and of itself.
“Thanks,” she said.
He kissed her. “Good morning. Swim?”
They peeled off their clothes and walked to the chilly water’s edge.
“Better to do it all at once.” Erin walked into the ocean and dove under.
Hank said, “Not sure I’m ready for that.”
“You’ll be cold until you get your head wet. You could face the shore and fall backward.”
Hank dove under and came up shrieking.
“Are you okay? Don’t tell me it was a jellyfish.”
“No, it’s cold as a witch’s tit!”
Laughing, Erin wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her and she dunked him.
He emerged a moment later. “Now you’re in it!”
Erin dove and swam hard out to sea. Minutes later, she checked on Hank, who was swimming far behind her.
“It’s not a fair fight!” he yelled.
Erin rolled onto her back, floating in early morning light.
“I’m not that great a swimmer,” Hank said when he reached her.
Instantly alert, she said, “Don’t panic.”
“Not panicked, but I’d like to touch sand on occasion.”
“Let’s go in. Gently.”
Slowly, they swam toward shore. Erin kept a keen eye on Hank until they reached a depth where he could touch bottom
“Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking. Is this better?”
“All good.”
SEVENTY-SIX
After an hour of swimming and diving, they wrapped themselves in towels.
“Coffee?” Hank asked.
They bought coffee and pastries from a café on the beach. While the barista worked her magic, a chef handed Hank a jug of the previous day’s seafood chowder. “Don’t open it until you get where you’re going. Should stay warm for a few hours.”
Hank said, “Sweet as.”
In the car, Hank said, “I brought you a fantastic present.”
She dug in her bag before Hank handed her an ice cream punnet.
He said, “See? I know you!”
She bopped him on the head with it. “Just drive.”
They circumnavigated Christchurch before winding through the Southern Alps. Erin admired the scenery, admired Hank, and focused on the horizon as required. In late morning, they stopped at Arthur’s Pass, a national park off a well-traveled road.
Hank pointed at a trailhead. “This is when you need your layers. Wrap your jersey and your jacket around your waist. You’ll want them before lunch.”
Erin screamed as a vulture perched on her mirror. Its huge, green tail twitched slightly as it settled and cocked its head to study her. Pecking the rubber around her window, each monstrous jab disheveled its thick, gray feathers.
One of its friends tap-danced on the car roof. Two more stared from the grass. They were behemoths, determined to break into the car and devour them both.
“Fucking keas,” Hank said. “They’re the worst of New Zealand.” He slammed
