Dinner became a farewell feast when Holly Mortensen, silent Simon, and Gary Whiterider joined me, Cameron, and Bree at a cheerful seafood restaurant called The Fishbone Bar & Grill. I savored every succulent bite of my steamed crayfish because I wasn’t sure when I’d have another.
Bree and her friends went out for drinks after dinner, but Cameron and I elected to return to the hotel. We didn’t take the most direct route, but ambled slowly along Marine Parade, past the waterfront park, the jet-boat dock, the bronze statue of the bearded man and the woolly ram. It was my way of saying a fond farewell to Queenstown.
When we reached the gravelly beach, Cameron stopped short and looked at me questioningly.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said. “Something wrong?”
“No,” I replied. “Everything’s right. Mission accomplished. Ruth and Louise are still alive and I’m bringing their great-grandniece home to them. I couldn’t be happier.”
“You don’t sound happy,” he said.
“I am,” I insisted. “I’m extremely happy. I can’t wait to see Bill and Will and Rob and my father-in-law, but . . .”
“Here it comes,” Cameron said under his breath.
“But I wish they were here with me,” I exclaimed, sending slush flying in all directions as I stamped my foot. “And I wish we could spend the next six months exploring New Zealand. I’ve fallen in love with your ridiculous country, Cameron. So what if it’s tried to kill me a few times? No place is perfect. I want to hike with a fantail and zoom around in a jet boat and listen to kiwis call in a kauri forest. I want to see the real Southern Cross and cruise Milford Sound and take a bath with Bill in Frodo’s jacuzzi. I want to bake cookies with Donna and I want you to see how well my sons ride.” I shook my head dismally. “And I don’t think any of it will ever happen.”
“It will,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking the slush from my sneaker. “Donna’s not the only woman with a workaholic husband. It takes ten strong men with crowbars to pry Bill away from his desk. The two of you must have had perfect attendance records at school.”
“Hardly,” said Cameron, laughing.
“Then you’ve forgotten how to play hooky,” I declared. “Bill doesn’t know the meaning of the word vacation.”
“He’ll learn,” he said. “In fact, I can guarantee that Bill will come to New Zealand with you.”
“How?” I asked.
“Follow me,” he replied with an enigmatic smile.
Cameron led me to the edge of the gurgling brook we’d crossed on our way to the Queenstown Gardens. Although my feet were officially frozen, I watched curiously as he took from his pocket a small object wrapped in crinkled tissue paper.
“The friend I visited today is a greenstone artist,” he said. “I asked him to make a pendant for you. He carved it in the shape of a triple twist because a triple twist symbolizes the bond of friendship. Though our paths may diverge for a time, they will inevitably come together again.”
He pulled the tissue paper apart to reveal a gleaming spiral of polished greenstone strung on a thin black cord.
“Greenstone is filled with mana, or spiritual power,” he went on. “If you bathe it in a running stream, it will always remember where it came from, and its mana will bring you back to Aotearoa. And next time, you’ll bring your husband and your sons. I promise you, Bill won’t be able to resist.”
He handed the pendant to me. Tears stung my eyes as I stooped to dip it into the dancing water, straightened, and hung it around my neck.
“Cameron,” I began.
“Problem solved,” he said, before I could even think of the right words to say. “Time for bed, Lori. You have a long trip ahead of you tomorrow. And in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold out here.”
He shivered theatrically, laughed, and hauled me unceremoniously up the slippery bank. New Zealanders were good at many things, I thought, but they were just plain terrible at accepting thanks.
My last day in New Zealand seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. We flew from Queenstown to Auckland, picked up the luggage I’d left at Spencer on Byron Hotel, and drove across town to the international airport. Before I knew it, I was hugging Cameron good-bye.
“It’s not good-bye,” he reminded me, touching my greenstone pendant. “Until we meet again, kia ora!”
“Kia ora,” I said, my voice quavering, and gave him another hug.
Neither Bree nor I talked much on the homeward journey. I was absorbed in memories of the Land of the Long White Cloud, and Bree had a veritable smorgasbord of thoughts to keep her occupied.
It was cold, dark, and rainy when we reached London, as if the monsoon that had beset me when I’d gone to see Fortescue Makepeace had continued, unabated, in my absence. I didn’t have the heart to tell Bree that England’s bouts of gloomy weather tended to last longer than New Zealand’s. I figured that, if she stuck around for a month or so, she’d discover the unpleasant truth for herself.