Hank swatted at the one on Erin’s mirror before physically pushing it away. It fought back, and he released a low, deep moan, spreading his arms out and dancing like a lunatic.
That worked, but when Erin emerged from the car, she ran to the trailhead. The keas perched in front of the car, taunting her.
Hank caught up. “You know they can get out of the parking area, right? It’s not like they live there. You may be walking into a forest full of ’em.”
She shrugged and hiked on, shaking off those particular keas. Arthur’s Pass was very New Zealand—mountains, water, tramping—but everything was more pronounced with Hank. She would forever remember him looking over his shoulder to ensure she was okay.
She was okay.
The terrain could be rocky, but spending time with Hank was easy. The conversation was easy. The silence was easy.
She chose him.
They hiked for two hours, stopping to ogle interesting flowers and trees. Their extra layers migrated from waist to torso as they gained altitude. Even in summer, mountain air chilled Erin.
Off the path, they found a sublime view and set up lunch: the thermos of chowder, ceramic bowls, genuine silverware, jugs of water, and more sweets than any two people required.
Hank’s back must have been killing him.
Sitting across from each other, it was practically a formal dinner, their legs crossed on a blanket in the middle of nature. Erin followed a deep breath with a satisfied sigh. With nothing to do and nowhere to be, she felt free.
“Thanks for this.”
He gazed down at the valley. “I feel like we got a late start. The South Island has a lot of great stuff.”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously. Today was your first trip to New Brighton. This right here is the best chowder around, and this is your first bowl. You have so much great stuff to discover.”
“I hope to come back and discover it all.”
“If you come back, I’ll make a list.”
The cooling chowder lingered on Erin’s tongue. By the third bite, she believed it was the best. Like the night sky, and like New Zealand, the chowder grew more nuanced with time. And it was packed with seafood.
She held a spoonful toward Hank. “What do you think this is?”
“Gurnard, maybe? I don’t know my white fish.”
He knew his chowder, though. And dense, crusty bread. Maybe soup was the answer to cold New Zealand winters, too. Erin could eat this chowder forever.
Or at least until Hank lay on the blanket. Bellies full, they pushed the sweets aside and discovered each other again. Between the trees, under the sun, in the middle of nowhere, even chilly mountain air couldn’t deter them from losing some clothes.
An hour later, Hank’s stomach growled. “Caramel bars in the chilly bin.”
Erin shrugged her shoulders and grinned. “Chilly bin. That’s the cutest one yet.” She opened the cooler and pulled out two caramel bars.
Hank polished off his and said, “We should get moving soon.”
Erin wanted to spend the rest of her day with him. Here.
“I have a present for you,” she said, withdrawing the parcel from her bag.
Hank turned it over in his hands. “Is it a self-help guide on how to speak American?”
“Better,” she said.
He ripped off the paper and stared at the very old copy of Walden.
“So, my Grandma Tea, who I loved more than anything in the world, wrote her thesis on Thoreau and feminism. This is one of her copies of Walden.”
Tears welled in Erin’s eyes as Hank thumbed through the pages.
She wiped her sleeve across her face. “Literature was never really my thing. I’ve always been a scientist. I was so thrilled when I learned one of Mercury’s craters was named Thoreau and Tea thought that was great. She and I met in the middle of art and science.”
Erin wiped her eyes again. “She was wonderful. I miss her so much.”
“I think you should keep this.”
“I’ve thought about it. I really want you to have it.” She opened the book to a well-worn passage. “See all her notes in the margin? I sometimes look through her books and imagine we’re talking about them together. She was passionate about books and nature and music and art.”
He gazed at her with sad eyes. “I love it. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
They held hands for a few minutes, gazing at the sky together. Erin shaded her eyes from the sun.
“Let’s just stay here all day.”
He kissed her. “Any other day, we could. But I have something really, really important for you. I promise.”
He pulled her to standing and wrapped her in a bear hug. “You’re amazing. Want to lead down or follow?”
SEVENTY-SEVEN
In the parking lot, Hank shooed the keas away and they were on the road again.
“I’m having fun, I promise,” she said. “But it sort of feels like we’re spending the day in the car.”
“We just spent two hours getting lucky on a mountain.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “But otherwise, we’re spending the day in the car.”
“Google maps says under ten hours in the car today.”
“Now I know why you needed me on the longest day of the year.”
Grinning, Hank took a different way down from Arthur’s Pass. “Fact is, half our driving will be out of the sunlight. So, we’re only really wasting five hours of sun. And we’re already half done.”
She loved that he was a planner. He could have packed a single suitcase for five months away. He definitely wouldn’t have packed the clothes that sat unused in Pippa’s closet these past few months.
They passed a sign for Hokitika.
“Oh! Felicity was just there!”
Hank nodded.
“Arts and crafts village, right? Felicity went for Christmas presents and art. Are we doing an art walk or something?”
He said, “It’s not about the town.”
Hank drove straight to the ocean, waved at it, and headed south. They drove for miles, parallel to the surf, their road separated only by a thin strip of farmland. Not two hundred meters
