CHAPTER 11, PART 1

By the third day the snow had receded, the weather back to more normal temperatures, leaving a soggy mush underfoot that the warm sun slowly dried. The flock was turned out into the lower pastures, all but the orphans that now resided in a small pen off the barns, cared for by Tedi, the youngest and newest hand. Andi spent much of her time in the main house with Nona, baking and helping to prepare meals, bonding with the older woman as they worked together, while Urs kept busy with the men, checking the flock, giving inoculations, repairing storm dam-age, all the usual stuff of a working ranch. Nona was not nearly as gruff and tough as she liked people to think, a fact that Andi soon saw was known by the hands, for they treated her with more than just the respect that was her due. She loved Urs dearly, though she wasn’t prone to showing it, still he knew and returned her affection in his own loving style, not in the least impressed by her gruff actions or comments. The mornings were the time of the most freedom, Urs often coaxing Andi to ride with him for a short while, keeping the time short while her legs strengthened. It was wonderful to ride again. The time in Texas seemed so long ago, but the skill soon returned and the gentle mare that Urs selected for her had a gait like a rocking chair, anticipating the strengths and weaknesses of her rider and giving Andi a comfortable, enjoyable ride. At the end of the week they rode far out into the North range, nearer the varied pines that marched up the slopes of the mountains, stopped to drink in the view and rest the horses under a Kauri tree, a Podocarp indigenous to New Zealand, the bole of smooth, unblemished wood often reaching a circumference of 15 meters, branching out to form a canopy of umbrella like limbs. It was a beautiful vista that lay before them, rolling hills and meadows of long lush grasses and many of the 60 varieties of daisy that covered New Zealand, the occasional up-thrusting pile of grey-green rock piercing the skyline, evidence of long ago volcanic action. Urs pointed out the best ones for climbing, all of them a challenge to him as he was growing up. “That big one way over to the left is the most challenging. There’s a chimney that goes up about 100 feet and you have to do it with your back against one side, legs on the other and use the pressure to walk up. No hand holds or cracks for your toes, but oh the view. The top is like a table, even has a grassy covering. When your legs are stronger we’ll take a picnic up there and make love all day, but for now this is a good spot.” She glanced back at him with a smile as he tugged her head away from his chest where she had been leaning and when it was tilted upward on his shoulder lowered his mouth to her lips to tease lightly with his tongue, his free hand easing under her shirt to pinch her nipples gently. “Cheeky woman, no bra. Was that an accident or did you come prepared?” He murmured against her lips, not letting her answer as he delved into the velvety interior. She wiggled around further and inched her hand under the band of his jeans, cupping his firm butt, kneading and pulling him closer, slipping around to his hip when he moaned. He leaned back on one elbow, never breaking contact with her mouth, taking her body with him but giving her access to the goal she was so anxious to reach. His jeans were strained almost to bursting, so much so that when she released the dome and lowered the zipper, his shaft sprang free, long and thick, the head wet with pre-cum, aching to be touched. She wrapped her cool hand around the silk, hard surface, cares-sing in just the way he had taught her, up and down with a slight corkscrew motion, bottom to clear over the top, moving the taut outer skin, leaving him throbbing with need, to gently cup the cool satin sacs containing his seed.

She left his swollen mouth and lowered her head to his chest, sucking on his flat male nipples while he frantically worked her clothing off of her body, his hands hot and rough from the outdoor work, restless, needing to feel skin, to touch the heat between her legs. Urs lay Andi in the tall fragrant grass and made love to her, tenderly and thor-oughly, taking his time, bringing her to the peak again and again until she begged him to come into her, to come with her and he released his rigid control. He was wild with lust and afraid of hurting her but she took him, eager for more and more, as wild in her passion as he. Their cries echoed off the hills and valleys as they came together in a long rolling orgasm that went on and on until they collapsed together in the grass, stunned speechless. After a while they searched about for their clothing, laughing as they found that the breeze at the top of this hill had taken some of it further down the meadow, Andi’s panties gone so far they never found them. It was weeks later that a naturalist wondered what the glimpse of lilac lace was in the high nest of a Kea, the alpine parrot known only in this mountain area. They rode back slowly, Andi sure that she was bruised but smiling as she thought of it, the motion of the horse and the sight of him making her body react again until Urs noticed her flushed face and teased her. He urged his mount on faster and she chased him, the sight of his body bent over the neck of his horse, his grin as he looked back at her too much and she flew off her mount into his arms when they came to the barn and he dismounted. She drew his mouth to hers in a deep sensuous kiss and he felt the shudders of her body, laughing and clasping her close in wonder at the passion of this tiny woman. “Don’t you laugh at me Kiwi. I can’t help myself. I watched that gorgeous body of yours moving with the horse and it’s all your fault. Whatever I know about making love, you taught me.” “But I didn’t know I would have such a quick student. God, how I love you, my little Pixie.”

They heard a Jeep approaching and looked up to see Nona driving at her usual maniacal speed. She screeched to a stop and scowled at them. “You need to take care of those horses first, then you can act like a couple of cats in heat.” She smiled indulgently at them, taking the sting from her words. They laughed, Andi blushed and they coll-ected their mounts to lead them to the barn, holding hands as they walked, leaving Nona to smile and remember her own youth and passions. She sighed and drove off, happy for the young couple, wondering if Yano might make one of his secret visits to her bed a little earlier this night. ‘Hell’, she thought, ‘I’m old but I’m not dead!’ and smiled as she thought of the relationship with the man who had been her friend for many years, her lover for only two. ‘I wonder if Urs suspects?’ she thought and discarded the notion as irrelevant. Late in the afternoon Nona wander-ed about the property, making an inspection of fences around the main house and barns, checking the large flock of chickens, making a pretense of being the ever efficient property owner when in reality she was looking for Urs, wanting to ‘accidentally’ bump into him and have a talk. She found him at the corral watching Yano drill a new gelding in the quick turns and neck reining expected of a range horse. “Urs, walk with me a bit. It’s time we talked,” she said in her abrupt fashion. He smiled and put his long arm about her shoulder. “You’ve taken to her and want to know more,” he said. She frowned at him, causing him to grin, and chuckled herself. “Damn you! I’ve never been able to resist that grin of yours and you know it. Yes, I think she’s a fine girl, but there’s something secretive about her and it worries me. Not that I think there’s something bad going on, it’s just I can see her suffering sometimes and she tries to hide it. Talk to me, Urs, Andi won’t.” They had reached the stacks of wood for the smokehouse and fireplaces and Nona sat on the chopping block while Urs straddled a wooden saw-horse, idly plucking at the splinters in the wood. “I don’t know what it is, Nona. Someone in Andi’s past treated her badly, so much so that she’s been on the run for years, Andi and her only friend, a Maori woman named Selma. I do know that she isn’t running from the authorities, but not much else except what I’ve guessed. “I know she was in an accident, is just now regaining the use of her legs, that’s why she limps sometimes and uses the cane. I know it takes a while for her to relax and be herself with new people, how you managed to get her so free and easy with you I don’t understand. I know she’s brilliant, turns out work that’s amazing both for the screen and in books. You’ve read her books, Mandy Aroha, aha, I see you recognize the name. “She won’t talk to me about what ever it is. The thought of speaking of it terrifies her, so I don’t push it. I don’t even know her real name.” He stopped and stared at Nona, meeting her steely gaze without flinching. “I do know that I love her, will always love her and if she leaves me it will tear me apart. I know she loves me but somehow this mystery, this fear means that her love for me puts me in danger, at least in her mind and I don’t understand. “Andi is, Andi. She’s pure and honest and beautiful, natural, stubborn and brave, strong and tender, tough and delicate, incredibly talented in so many fields, all of this and mysterious, icy, hard, determined, and inexperienced in the bedroom, not virginal just ” he hesitated not sure how open he could be with his aunt. “You mean she had been laid but didn’t know it could be fun? I’m not an old prude that hasn’t heard of intercourse you know.” Urs laughed and shook his head. “Always straight to the point. OK, before we made love she had been ‘used’ I think, probably raped. We enjoy each other, a lot actu-ally, and I think it’s something new to her, this pleasure.” Nona thought for a few minutes after Urs stopped talking then stood and came to put her hand on his arm. “I like her Urs. And I don’t much need to know what her past is. I like her the way she is now. Just be careful. I’ve seen the looks between you two and I wouldn’t want you to HAVE to get married because of a baby.” Urs met her eyes and his face was sad when he answered. “You can’t know how happy that would make me, Nona. But Andi can’t have children, something to do with the accident.” She stroked his cheek and Urs saw that her eyes were shiny with tears before she turned away. He smiled at her attempt to hide a very human weakness, Empathy. “Ask Tedi to cut some asparagus for dinner. I’m going to see how Andi’s doing with that chocolate thing she’s working on. I hope these guys don’t expect me to spoil them like she does after you two leave.” Urs sat a few moments longer, shook off his sad mood and went to the vegetable garden, found the long line of asparagus at the edge and began cutting spears into a wicker basket from the nearby stack. It wasn’t long after that he carried the laden basket to the long, low farmhouse, began to enter through the laundry room door and stopped when he saw Yano sitting on the steps, motioning him for quiet.

CHAPTER 11, PART 2

Music poured out of the kitchen from the partly raised windows and Urs peeked in before joining Yano, saw Nona and Andi totally involved in work but dancing about the kitchen to one of Nona’s CD’s, Abba he thought. He sat beside Yano and they listened to the singing and laughter from inside, both smiling, unwilling to interrupt the happy women. “She doesn’t have enough fun,” Yano said and Urs looked at him with a grin. “No more ‘secret’ visits?” Yano laughed quietly, remembering how Urs had caught him leaving his aunt’s room one early morning when he was raiding the frig for a snack to take on a dawn ride. “I want to marry her, Urs, but she’s so stubborn. Thinks the men wouldn’t respect me as much if I married the boss and she worries what you would think.” “You’re almost family now, brother. I would be proud and Nona would be a lucky woman.” They heard the CD change, this time one of Andi’s compilations, music only, that she had burned on a disc, no vocals so she could sing along with it. In deference to Nona’s tastes she had picked a mix of old and new, jazz, rock and Broadway show tunes, most of them familiar to both of the men. Chris de Burgh’s Don’t Pay the Ferryman, the Beatle’s Yesterday, something they heard Andi explain to Nona was by a Canadian group called Great Big Sea, all about a smuggler and French Perfume. They heard Andi stop the music when the next one started and rose to enter the Kitchen but paused as Nona spoke up. “That’s Verdi, Rigoletto if my ears don’t deceive me.” Andi chuckled and teased her. “Now that surprises me. You don’t seem like a person who would like opera.” “Well I do, not all of it but that’s a good one. Too bad you didn’t tape the singer too, it’s a beautiful piece.” They heard Andi laugh and say something about having to stand still for breath control and the music started again. The rich tones of a woman singing rang out and the men peeked inside. Of course it was Andi, singing for Nona who sat at the table in rapture at this command performance, Andi who sang the Italian words and hit the high notes clearly. The Cara Nome came to an end and the intro for Memories started. They heard just one word and Andi sang it for Nona as well. “Please.” They heard the music start again and Andi’s rich voice came to them, full of sorrow as she began the signature piece from Cat’s. They peeked in the window again and saw that Nona stood by the Aga, one hand over her mouth as the music ebbed and soared, Andi with it. Urs saw that Andi’s face was shiny with tears, completely lost in the pathos of the song and he longed to comfort her. Yano put his hand on Urs’s arm as the song ended and Nona enfolded the drained younger woman in her strong arms. “Shush child. You are loved, Andi. Whatever troubles you endured in your past, now you’re not alone.” The two men left the porch quietly, abandoning the basket of asparagus by the door, leaving the women to calm before they came back. A half hour later when they returned the basket was gone and the soft strains of Beethoven came from the kitchen, that and light laughter. They made more noise than necessary as they entered, received smiles from both women and begged for coffee and maybe a snack of something that was wafting through the room. “Have you done anything today that earned you a snack? You don’t look like either of you has done anything more than sleep in the haystack.” Nona chided them but they could see she wasn’t serious for even as she spoke she poured coffees and Andi cut 2 extra large slices from one of the chocolate cakes on the counter. “Any problems? Good, that snow caused enough to last me for a while.” Nona rested her worn hand on Yano’s shoulder for a moment then poured herself a cup of tea and joined them at the table. “Child, sit for a few minutes. Everything is ready as it can be. You need to get off your legs for a while, you’re limping.” Andi sat on the chair next to Urs and he scooped her legs up across his lap, massaging them through the jeans she wore, all the while stuffing cake in his mouth with the other hand. She laughed at him, teasing that her baking was the only reason he kept her around. He stopped the massage, cupped her head with his hand and pulled her face to his. “Not the only reason,” he said and kissed her, his lips and mouth tasting of chocolate. He laughed when they separated and he saw the ring of chocolate around her mouth. “Your face is dirty. Here, let me wipe it off.” and he proceeded to do just that, licking the evidence from around her mouth and lips. “Will you two get a room or something? I’m an old woman. I can’t afford to get all excited like this.” Nona frowned at them, then laughed as they grinned at her. The timing was perfect and Urs jumped at his chance. “If you made an honest man of Yano, getting ‘excited’ would be more fun. You’re both too young to give up excitement.” Nona looked at him with shock, stunned that he knew, then relieved. “How long have you known?” Yano laughed and admitted being caught the second month. “Nona, marry the man and stop torturing him. I’ll be happy to stand up with you.” The banter turned serious and after many minutes of being deluged with reasons, Nona gave in, coming close to blushing as she looked at Yano and asked if he still wanted to marry her. He faced her with an eager look and a slow grin and said he thought it seemed like a fine idea. “Summer’s too busy, but we could slip into Wellington for a few days after the lambs are out to pasture.” Yano took his plate and mug to the dishwasher, came back and put his thick arms around her shoulders, resting his face on her graying hair. “You have made me very happy, Old Woman,” he said and with a smile at Urs, went outside to finish his chores. It was a happy meal that night, great food as always but a celebration as well, for Yano told the hands just before dessert that he and Nona were getting married and the men were overjoyed, especially happy that now they didn’t have to pretend not to be aware of the romance anymore. They teased, and laughed and made jokes that Yano wouldn’t have to do any of the heavy work now that he was marrying the boss, but everyone could see it was all in fun. Urs and Andi lingered after the others had gone to the bunkhouse, talking over plans with Nona and Yano, the two men complimenting Nona on the pies at dinner for Andi had taught her to treat the dough with tenderness and now they were light and flaky. Iree joined them on the porch for a brief visit, followed as she usually was by a few of the herd dogs. “That dog of yours is never going to be happy being a city dog again. Look at her. She’s healthy and happy, free to roam and for one who was never trained, a damn good dog with the flock. She runs well with the horses too, knows to keep her distance. Nona stroked the bitch as she made the rounds of her people then ran off with the others again. “I know, I was going to talk to you about it. Will it be a problem if she stays? I’m away too much and she can’t always come with me.” They settled the matter of the dog easily, the matter already decided by Iree and soon all left for their beds. Nona and Yano laughed as they realized that it wouldn’t be necessary for him to pretend to leave anymore. Urs and Andi strolled to the small house, full of thoughts and too of sadness that in the morning they would leave to return to Wellington. It had been an eventful but relaxing break in their routine, but now it was time to get back to work. Andi’s laptop hadn’t been opened for days, Saul had called with news of pick-up work and public appearances for Urs, time to get back to reality.

The little house was a second home to them now, warm and inviting, decorated by Urs to be comfortable and achieving a style that was much like him, large, solid furniture but with bold durable coverings, splashes of color in the rugs, pillows and throws. The kitchen was small, mainly used for quick breakfasts or beverages, the bath with a shower big enough for several people the only sign of luxury. There was one bedroom and it held the extra long bed he needed, piled with a feather mattress and down pillows, a stereo and shelves of music and books, a huge overstuff-ed chair and stool with a handy reading lamp. There were walls of photos, family, friends, Urs in riding competit-ions, surfing, as a small boy, photos of his parents and now Polaroids of Andi. They showered and walked naked into the bedroom, pausing to glance at the family photos. Andi laughed and wrapped her arms under his, gripping his shoulders from behind and smiling up at his dear face. “Did you phone Nona to remove all the photos of your other girlfriends, so I wouldn’t be jealous?” He shook his head and grinned. “Sure! She took a big tub of them to the hands so they could have pin-ups.” He pressed her closer, enjoying the sleek feel of her damp skin against his. “I’ve never brought any other woman here, Andi, never felt this way about anyone before. And it’s not just the sex, though making love with you is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I love you, your mind, your spirit, your body, the funny little freckles you have on your shoulders, the way your toes curl up when we make love, the way you blush. I love to feel your nipples getting bigger in my mouth, sometimes seeing them poke out your shirt when our eyes meet. I love to feel your little hands on me, your beautiful voice when you sing, the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re writing, the taste of your tongue in my mouth. You give me pleasure, just by existing, but oh Gawd Andi when we make love” She ran her hands down, across his butt, cupped him firmly and pulled him close, rubbing her damp body against the erection she felt against her. “Hmm, seems like something is trying to get my attention.” She tilted her head for his mouth, took his hand and pressed it against the mound of mahogany curls and coaxed his fingers to explore. He touched the opening of her vagina and slid inside the wet core of her, matching the movements of his fingers to the thrust of his tongue. He felt her orgasm start and knelt to taste the juices of her, flicking his tongue inside and she pushed him, tipping him over on his back and lowering herself on his shaft, riding fast and hard as he cupped her butt and groaned. She lay on him and gasped, “I need you on top of me” and he rolled them over, pressing her body into the mattress as he thrust savagely into her, touching her with his hand, sucking on her neck and she swung her legs up high on his back to take him deeper. He could sense another org-asm coming for her, her back arching, the muscles tightening around his penis and he pumped inside fast and hard, roaring ‘Yes! Oh Gawd Yes!, Yes! Yes!’ as he thrust deep three more times and emptied into her, the long rolling waves of orgasm for both of them freezing them in place, breathless, slick with sweat, every nerve ending on fire.

She was whimpering, making little ‘MMM’ sounds as he collapsed on her, hands on her shoulders, arms tucked in beside her body to hold her close. He tried to ease away but she tightened her arms and knees, whispering ‘Not yet’ and he rested on her, catching his breath. After a few minutes he rolled to his side, pulled her legs to his with one long, strong leg and curled her against his chest. He could feel her breath against his skin, warm and still rapid, felt her smile as she spoke. “I was so frightened of you, that first night. When I saw how big you are, I nearly panicked but I wanted you so much. And then you showed me how to touch you and your skin was so soft and velvety and I could feel my body spreading, opening for you, and you were so gentle, so loving and I wasn’t afraid anymore.” “You don’t ever have to be afraid of me, Baby.” “I know that, Urs,” she said and raised her head to smile at him. “And you don’t have to be so gentle anymore. I know that whatever you do is going to be wonderful. I feel so alive when I’m with you.” Hours later Urs woke and slipped from the bed, used the bathroom and went to the kitchen to guzzle juice right from the container. He padded silently back into the bedroom, moving quietly with his athletic grace. She had rolled to her other side but rested fitfully and shivered for they forgot about a blanket or even a sheet in their haste. He lay beside her again, pulling a soft blanket over them and she automatically rolled into his arms, snuggling against him and murmuring his name. “Shh, I’m here, Pixie.” And they slept.

CHAPTER 12

The flight back was uneventful, now less sad when they had the upcoming visit of Nona and Yano to look forward to. They settled back into their routines, both staying most of the time in Andi’s house, with the occasional over-night in Urs’, preferring the privacy of his house if they felt a ‘wild’ night coming on. Andi finished her current adaptation, started on an outline for her next book and worked on her body, toning her muscles, strengthening her legs. The exercises were easier now for often Urs worked out at the same time, learning some of the Tai chi moves, using the weights when she wasn’t on the Universal, racing her in the pool as she did laps. Urs spent a few days in the studio, doing voice overs for promotional material, enduring a couple of interviews for movie magazines, posing for stills for publicity and they took time to play. It was much too soon for her weak legs to try climbing but she went with Urs and a group of friends to the indoor club, helping him plan his course, visiting with the others when they took a rest, then on to a pub to celebrate life with a few beers. They went to the surfing beach on the coast, Andi to read and tan, maybe swim, Urs to surf the huge rollers that drew surfers from all over New Zealand. It was early when they arrived, hoping to make a full day of it and they set up at the surfing end of the beach, the far end much calmer and better for swimmers. He put up a huge umbrella for Andi, with her fair skin and red hair she burned easily, and with a quick kiss and grin he brought his waxed board from the jeep and raced to the water.

She watched as he paddled out, laying flat on the board. He joined a group of other surfers as they waited for a good wave and she could just barely see which one he was though he wore long lemon yellow ‘Jams’, a color which should make him easy to see. Suddenly they all began paddling for shore, a wave coming that they all liked and she could see him now, for he stood and balanced on the swiftly moving board, perched atop the white crest of a long wave. It was amazing to watch the surfers as they kept just ahead of the curling water, slicing through the foam, dipping down so that they were in a tunnel with the foaming crest curved over them. Urs made it all the way to the calm water, sat straddling his board and Andi waved and smiled at him as he raised his arms in victory, grin-ning in that way he had. He paddled back out and she watched for a while before rummaging in her bag for her book. She read for a while, stretched out on her stomach on the mat but the heat from the sun made her drowsy and she rolled to her back, adjusted her bikini, a deep burgundy color nearly like her hair, made sure all the naughty parts were covered and napped. It wasn’t long before she roused, the shifting and slight spray of sand alerting her that Urs was back and she smiled as she opened her eyes and saw a total stranger, a man of middle thirties sitting at the edge of the mat. Instantly she was overcome with fear, refused to let it show and fixed this bold person with an icy stare. She sat up, never dropping her glare from his face. “Is the beach perhaps too crowded. Would that be why you’ve invaded my space?” “Whoa, lighten up Honey. You looked lonely so I thought I’d get to know you.”

He hadn’t made any move to leave so Andi stood and stared down at him. “Thanks but no Thanks. I choose my friends very carefully and I don’t like beach trollers.’ Now he stood and faced her, his face red and angry at the insult and he sneered at her. He was stocky and tanned, his hair bleached out from too much time on the beach, at five foot 10 or so, towering over her. “Listen Bitch, there’s lots of competition on this beach. You should feel honored I decided on you.” She felt a surge of fear that she refused to let the obnoxious man see and waved with relief as Urs loped up the sand, concerned when he saw a stranger facing Andi aggressively. He passed the stocky man, nudging him none too gently as he passed and hugged Andi before turning to face him. “Take a hike buddy. This lady is spoken for.” “You’re that actor, that guy from Dark Destiny. You guys get all the best tail, all the wannabees.” He was on his back in the sand, nursing a throbbing, bleeding nose before he could finish the sent-ence. “Sorry, man, did you slip? You better go up to the shack and get some ice for that nose and next time keep it and your dirty mouth where they belong.” Urs pulled him to his feet and gave him a push in the direction of the lifeguard shack. “Let me get my board and we’ll go,” he said, his eyes still dark with anger but Andi shook her head. “I haven’t even got wet yet. Thank you, Kiwi. He won’t be back.” He looked at her for a minute and a slow smile crept over his face. “Andi, do you trust me?” She laughed and drew back a bit. “I’m not sure it’s wise when you look like that, but yes, I trust you.” He grasped her hand and tugged her toward the water. “Great! C’mon!” and they raced to his board where it stood upright in the sand above the water line. Urs collected his board and they entered the water, wading out until she was waist deep. He lifted her onto the board, told her to lie on it face down.

“Now spread your legs. MMM what a tempting sight!” She laughed and put her legs back together, spread them again when he climbed on the board and lay on her, paddling the board on each side with his long arms, teasing by grinding his groin against her butt, groaning when she retaliated by nipping the soft skin of his under arm. Soon they were far enough out to wait for a wave and they both sat straddling the board, Urs’s arms around her, his hands kneading her breasts until they were joined by another surfer. “When I tell you, lay on the board, here, give me your left foot, there, that’s the safety. If you fall off, the board can’t get far from you. Just lay still, let me do the balancing and keep your legs together. You can hold on near the tip. Here comes a good one, get ready.” Andi was terrified, her heart racing, but eager as well and she lay flat out, holding the board near the tip, one hand on either side. Urs turned the board, paddled a couple of swift, deep strokes and sprang to his feet, turned a little sideways, his feet straddling her body and they flew. It was a feeling like Andi had never felt, the power of the wave under and around them, the air and foam spraying them. She could feel the muscles in his legs and ankles, correcting their balance, his feet moving slightly to angle the board up or to the side. “Look up, Andi!” he shouted and she turned her head. Above them the wave arched, all translucent greeny blue, frothing with foam as they rode the back wall of curved water, Urs crouched over her, grinning like a madman and she laughed with the thrill of it. All too soon they were free of the wave and he sat on the board again, pushing her legs off and allowing her to sit as they floated. She leaned back against him, turned her head and drew his mouth down to devour it with her own.

“Guess that means you liked it,” he said. “Can we do it again? It was amazing, all of it, specially when we were in that tunnel of water, can we do it again?” He laughed and hugged her. “It’s called shooting the pipe and yes we can do it again.” Twice more they went out and rode the waves back in until finally Urs said they had to quit for a while, the wind had changed and the waves were too small, not worth the paddle out to them. They strolled along the sand to a beachfront restaurant and had lunch, fresh seafood and juices squeezed after they were ordered, returned to their mat and stretched out, Andi in the shade, Urs on the portion in the sun. “Where’s the sunscreen, Pixie? You’ll burn from the reflection off the water. You need to be greased up.” He slathered her liberally, enjoy-ing the contact and the slippery feeling of her, smiling when she pretended to purr. He rolled her over and did the other side, hesitating suggestively near her breasts and by the scant triangle of cloth that covered her groin. “Easy Kiwi,” she said with a little giggle. “Something might come up that we can’t handle, at least not right now.” He laughed and lay on his stomach next to her, folding her hand into his and breathing deep, calming while she gigg-led at his discomfort. “You’re going to pay for this, woman. Just wait until tonight.” She rolled to her stomach and held his eyes with hers. “Promises, promises.” She slid her hand back under his and closed her eyes, smiling as she dropped off to sleep. They went everywhere those free, easy days, Andi accompanying him often to the studio, fitting in comfortably when they went to a party with a bunch of his non-acting friends, to the farmer’s market to browse the stalls, to the theatre where they sat way in the back so Urs wouldn’t be recognized. Yano and Nona came to Wellington, stayed at Urs’s house for a few days, got married in a sweet small ceremony attended only by a few old friends and Urs and Andi, the party afterward informal and happy, centered around the BBQ pit in a family friend’s back yard. The newly married couple flew off to a week in Fiji the next morning, both of them looking happier and younger than Urs had ever seen. A week later they passed through Wellington on their way home, only stayed a few hours but made the ‘children’ promise to come back out to the ranch soon. Saul brought Andi a new book that he wanted adapted for the screen and she started reading it, soon absorbed in her work, writ-ing copious notes in a steno pad that she carried everywhere. Urs was busy as well, reading some scripts that had been sent him, turning the first down as a loser, thinking about the second, laughing at Saul when he said that they were a team, that Urs should wait for his new script. At the end of the second month Andi had an outline of what she proposed for the script and they arranged to meet at Saul’s to discuss it, Urs coming too for they planned to go on rock climbing after, Andi’s first attempt since her accident. Their plans changed a little after Selma passed on a message. “The doctor called. He can see you tomorrow if you come in early, no later than 9:30. It won’t take long, just the results of the tests from last week.” Urs saw her face blanch and hugged her. “Don’t panic, Pixie. You’re in great shape. Go see your doctor and I’ll meet you at Saul’s, we’ll talk Celia into going out to the new restaurant down on the wharf for lunch before we go to the club.” Andi was nervous in the morning but Urs thought it was just her distaste of doctors and he snuggled her while she waited for the taxi. “Is this a new doctor, one you need to impress? I don’t remember you getting duded up in a dress for a doctor’s visit before?” “Right, he’s old and fat and bald and we’re going to run off together.” She was laughing as he shut the taxi door and she blew him a kiss. A few minutes later he gathered up his climbing gear, said good bye to Selma who was working at home this morn-ing and left for Saul’s.

The flight had been long and tiring but he was eager and shrugged off the suggestion of waiting until they had slept. They dropped the bags off at the hotel, drove the rented car to a hardware store, then a florists and then out to the residential area. The paint was quick drying and he placed the sprayed rose back in the florist’s box, laying it with care on top of the tabloid clipping, the one that had brought him so far across the world. It had been ridiculously easy to track her down after the photo appeared and now he could toy with her, let her squirm until he had his plans all in place. Disposal would be more difficult here, no greedy morgue attendant to pay off, but it could be done, and he would find a way. He handed the long box to his hired help and the man left the car, running quietly to the door of the house, propping the box against the door and racing back, undetected. It was early in the day, she likely wouldn’t find it for a few hours and by then they would be watching, ready. They drove back into the city center, looking for and finding a store that sold hunting and fishing equipment. He browsed through the display of hunting knives until he found just the one he wanted, purchased it along with a sheath that could be adjusted to fit on his boot and they returned to the hotel. Lunch was from room service, not particularly memorable but as he finished eating the call from the small airport came in. Hugo’s license and qualifications were acceptable and an airplane would be available to them whenever they cared to depart. He sent the two men to watch the house and lay on the bed fantasizing about his long delayed reunion with Gabrielle.

CHAPTER 13, PART 1

Urs arrived at Saul’s just after 10, sat and had coffee with his friend while they waited for Andi. The children were home from school, some kind of holiday that the schools seemed to have with increasing frequency and mobbed Urs when they found him on the deck. They begged him to swim with them but the Nanny succeeded in shepherd-ing them to the pool and the adults moved in to the living room to get away from the noise. They talked about their work for a while, lost track of time when Saul tried to explain a new editing process he wanted to try and suddenly the kids were going in for lunch and they realized that it was noon and Andi still wasn’t there. Urs called the house, hoping to ask Selma if Andi had returned to change her clothes, but the phone rang in what seemed an emp-ty house. “Hey boyo, you know these doctors. She’s probably still waiting to get in.” Urs sat again but couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had and kept glancing at his watch. They heard the taxi circle the drive and stop in front, expecting Andi to come in the open door and were surprised when it was a disheveled, breathless and weep-ing Selma who raced in as fast as her stubby little legs would carry her. Urs jumped to his feet and met her halfway across the living room, knelt on one knee and took her by the shoulders to shake her gently. “Selma, stop! Tell me what’s wrong. Andi, is Andi alright?” He could feel the presence of Saul and Celia behind him but centered his efforts on Selma, trying desperately to get her to calm. She took a deep breath and held out a box they hadn’t before noticed in her hand, a long narrow florist box and Urs opened it. Inside was a single rose, a rose that some-one had spray painted black and under it a page from one of those tabloid papers. He lifted the page out and saw a series of shots with a small article underneath. The pictures were all of him and Andi, at the airport that day so many months back, the article giving his name and the location, questioning who the mystery woman was that seemed to have captured that ‘hunk’ Urs Buhler. “She’s running! He found her and she’s running again, but this time she wouldn’t let me go with her. She’s so frightened and trying to be strong and she locked me in the closet and left and I don’t know where she’s gone!” Urs scooped the small but heavy bulk of her up and carried her to a chair, letting her sink into the cushy softness and Saul pressed a glass of brandy in her hand. They let her calm a few minutes, watching as the tears ebbed and she gulped the first glass of Brandy, sipped more slowly on the sec-ond. Her little chocolate eyes went from one to the other, seeming to pierce through them to their souls. She took a deep breath and began speaking to them in a controlled, sad voice. “You might as well sit down, ‘cause I’m going to break a promise I made and it will take a while to tell it all so you can understand.” No-one said anything except Celia who used the intercom to talk to the nanny and warn her to keep the children busy. Then she too sat, grasping Saul’s hand as if she knew that there was an unpleasant tale about to unfold. Urs sat on an ottoman by Selma’s knees and nodded at her to go on. “I think Andi told you she’s from Canada and that’s true. She’s secretive but honest. Andi’s father was a business man in Toronto, not a very good one ’cause he gambled and drank, a lot. Her mother died when Andi was about 6 and that’s when I first met her.” Selma’s voice was soft as she let her mind drift back over the years, remembering the child Andi had been. She met Andi the first day on the job, one of her new duties to bring a tray of soup and toast, glass of milk to the locked room on the second floor of the sprawling house. Selma entered the room, surprised to find it so austere and occupied by a tiny redheaded child who waited patiently sitting on the rug in front of her narrow bed. “G’day, miss. I brought your lunch,” she said and was rewar-ded by a smile that lit the room. Selma placed the tray on the only other furniture in the bare room, a small low table with one child sized chair, watching as the child stood and quickly came to stand in front of her. “Thank you. My name is Gabrielle Amanda Connors. You’re new aren’t you?” She was shorter than Selma expected, thin and her large emerald green eyes shadowed with grey circles, but well mannered and eager for companionship. There was an animal intentness about her, like a woodland creature, wanting to be friendly but ready to flee if the need came and Selma made a conscious effort to speak gently. “Yes, miss. This is my first job in Canada. I’m a helper in the kitchen.” Gabrielle Amanda Connors sat on the chair and eyed the food with hunger but turned back quickly to Selma, eager for someone to talk to. “Do you mind if I eat while we talk? I know it’s rude but I’m so hungry.” Selma smiled at her and she took the spoon up to scoop a mouth full of soup, swallowed and asked her next ques-tion. “You have a funny accent. Where are you from?” Selma explained that she was a Maori, from New Zealand, came to Canada to visit relatives and liked it so much that she stayed. She kept talking so the girl could continue eating, telling her about New Zealand, about the Maoris, about her relatives until the skimpy meal was gone and finally she asked what she should call the child. Those incredible deep green eyes probed hers as the strikingly beautiful child stared at her and with a serious face answered. “Most of the staff call me Miss Gabrielle. I don’t see them very often but when I do that’s what they say. I suppose you better too. Papa doesn’t like me to be friendly with the staff.” Over the next weeks the routine of the house became familiar to Selma, meal times, cleaning rout-ines and it often fell to her to carry the trays to the small second floor bedroom. She always waited for the trays and talked to Miss Gabrielle, intrigued by the sharp mind, the quick, mature wit, appalled by the frequent signs of abuse. The third week of what Selma learned had been punishment, Miss Gabrielle was allowed run of the house again and spent much of her time in the library, pouring over books that Selma thought far beyond her age, quietly reading, vanishing like a small shadow into the upstairs rooms when Mr. Connors came home. He was usually drunk or stoned out of his mind on something, left evidence of his drug abuse in a powdery residue on the polished wood of the table in the sitting room, on his bedside stand, sometimes a discarded syringe on the counter beside the sink in his bathroom. And those were the times when the cries of Miss Gabrielle echoed through the house. He was a nasty drunk, a small man who became aggressive, the drugs adding to his degeneracy, his target invariably the only one in the house who couldn’t fight back, his daughter. The abuse of alcohol and chemicals made him impot-ent and his rage erupted whenever he looked on this thing of beauty, the only remaining beauty in his corrupt life. Selma continued to do her job but assumed a hidden role, sneaking extra food to the always hungry child and after weeks of their stolen moments together, they became friends. She started calling her young mistress Andi, a sobriquet for Amanda, but only in private. Andi had culled the library for books on New Zealand and they talked of it often. Selma explained about the Maori way of life, the warriors of old, the love of the people for the land and all things in it and Andi was fascinated, saying someday they would go there, to Aotearoa, the Land of the Long White Cloud, and be happy. The years passed, marked by the infrequent visits of the examiners who tested Andi for the local school board, for her father claimed she was being home schooled and the law required her to pass the usual exams as proof. She passed them all easily, her knowledge from the constant reading and studying far bey-ond the requirements for her age group. The beatings continued and the attempts for sexual gratification, her father trying to use her small body, angered when he could not, beating her again when her tiny hands and mouth also could not give him pleasure. Selma cared for her, bandaging the cuts, putting salve on the bruises and once accom-panying her to St. Joseph’s Hospital when it seemed his rage would kill her except that after breaking her arm by throwing Andi down the long flight of stairs from the second floor he blacked out. Andi became more stoic about her life, the years of happiness when her mother had been alive to bear the brunt of her father’s rages, fading into memory. Now this was the only life she knew. The treasured moments with Selma were the islands of calm that kept her sane, kept alive a will to go on, but the cost was her spirit. She stopped crying, never smiled or laughed except when alone with her only friend, instead bore whatever was handed her with acceptance, quietly. More and more her father found his business failing, the money growing scarce. Most of the staff were let go gradually, the house and property falling into disrepair until it was evident he was going under. Selma was the only staff left. She made the meals, did the laundry, didn’t complain when her pay was late or non existent, cleaned the few rooms she had time for, kitchen, bathrooms and Andi’s room. The last night they were to be together in her Papa’s house, Andi came to Selma in the kitchen. She was dressed nicely, her thirteen year old body just beginning to fill out and wearing a soft white sweater, plaid pleated skirt, white ankle sox and flat black shoes. Her hair, nearly to her waist in a mahogany cascade of waves had been brushed until it shone and was pulled back with silver clips. There was a hopeful look about her as she came in the kitchen and she smiled at Selma, twirled to show her the new clothes, the first in a long time. “Papa says things are going to be different from now on. He bought me these things and says we’re going to dinner at a business associate’s house, someone who wants to invest in his business. Oh, Selma, I hope it’s true. Maybe I can even go to school.” She kissed Selma on the cheek and danced out of the room and that was the last Selma saw of her for 5 years.

CHAPTER 13, PART 2

Five long years when Selma worked at anything she could to keep ahead of her bills, for when she heard the next morning that Andi would not be back, she too left that house and never returned. Then one afternoon when she checked her mail on returning from work there was a postcard in the box, a simple postcard with the address of a book store in the trendy Yorkville Mall, a date, a time and Andi scrawled at the bottom. She took the day off work and went early, in the store browsing through the stacks when a long black limo pulled up out front. A huge man popped out of the front passenger seat, opened the back door and Andi step-ped out. She came in the store, leaving the man to stand outside. She was so beautiful, that rich hair, still long and waving, to her waist, her lilac suit with a silky shine that spoke of money, her skin so pale it was luminous, eyes that sparkled with green fire but cold, so cold and alert, missing nothing. The clerk fawned over her until she fixed him with a look and he scuttled back behind the counter, leaving her to wander the aisles, slowly making her way to Selma. She passed the tiny woman, barely audible as she whispered, ‘in the ladies room’ and five minutes later they were hugging and crying in the john. “Oh, Selma, I’ve missed you so much,” Andi said, bending to hug the smaller woman for over the years she had passed the Maori woman in height, not by much, but she was well over the five foot mark Selma would never reach. “Child, I thought of you every day. What happened? Why didn’t you come back?” “Aroha, we have only a few minutes before Peter’s guards come to see what I’m doing. Here, take this and read it later.” She pressed an envelope in Selma’s hand and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I have a plan to get away from him, and enough money to do it. It’s all in the letter. Will you meet me here one more time, three weeks from today, the same time?” Selma agreed and Andi kissed her brow once more, left the Ladies Room quickly and when Selma calmed enough to exit a few minutes later, it was just in time to see the clerk hand a large bag of books into the limo and return into the store. The limo drove off and Selma went home, eager to read what was in the envelope in her pocket. She sat in her overstuffed, lumpy, old armchair and opened the letter, amazed to first see a large wad of money, hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars, more cash than she had ever seen outside a bank. The letter was long and she began reading it, stopped to get a box of tissues and continued. My darling Selma: There is no way to describe to you the importance of my belief that you are still my friend. Through these endless years it is the only thing that has kept me sane, knowing that out there some where was someone who once did and still could love me and with that one sparkling thought I have endured a life that at most times did not seem worth continuing. My hope that night that at last Papa would change was a foolish child’s dream. We went to his associate’s house but not for the dinner and meeting I had expected, instead Papa traded me to Peter Escondle for money or cancellation of debts. It was over so fast. Papa was gone before I realized what was happening and the door was locked and this stranger was explaining what my new life would be. Peter is a smooth talking man though he is not much to look at. He’s fairly tall, about five foot ten but very strong, thin and pale, thin blonde hair and eyebrows, almost an albino look about him, grey eyes and pale skin since he has a slight allergy to sunlight. Perhaps his build is why he always hires men who are very large to work for him, it gives him a feeling of power to boss them around. He talked to me quietly for a while, telling me that I could have tutors, could buy anything I wanted, clothes, books, but that since he was so important and wealthy I could never leave the grounds without a guard. He took me on a tour of the house, the indoor pool, the huge, well stocked kitchen, the wonderful library and then finally to the suite of rooms that were to be mine. And then he ripped off my clothing and raped me, several times during that endless pain filled night. Now when I look back I think he wasn’t really satisfied with what he was able to do. He seemed to get more pleasure out of letting his men use me while he watched, especially when I screamed from the pain. I can’t begin to tell you the shock and the pain I felt, the betrayal for I’m sure that Papa knew what was planned for me and even though he was not a good father, he WAS my father. What have I done in my short life to deserve this existence I’ve been given? And so began the past five years. I was so frightened that first night, so stupid and naïve. When I saw the blood on my legs I thought I was dying but as the days passed and I was still alive, at times I wished I wasn’t. I have learned by listening carefully when others thought I was merely a ‘dumb little girl’ just how much worse Peter is than my Papa. His businesses are centered around every vile and despicable trade you can think of, drugs, pornography, both adult and child, sex videos, prostitution. The list is endless and though he doesn’t seem to be a major player still it is enough to make him very wealthy. One fortunate thing is that he is adamant against the use of drugs by his household so I have been spared that degradation at least. I have also learned to endure the humiliation, the times of being passed around like a party favor to visiting colleagues, the times when Peter’s men used me while he watched and I learned to accept all this with no feeling, learned to pretend to enjoy it or face yet another beating. The weekly visits of the doctor to ensure that I was not pregnant and/or diseased, after the check up having to pay the ‘doctor’ with sex, something I believe is called S and M. Perhaps Peter is right, the life I have is what I deserve, God knows he tells me often enough how useless I am for anything other than as a ‘playtoy’. I tell you all of this, though there is so much more, because I want to be honest with you about what that child you cared for has become. I am soiled, Selma and don’t know if I can ever become clean again. Perhaps there is something missing in me that I accepted anything they did to me and to the other children I saw briefly when they were brought to the house for ‘parties’. I never fought back and this is a shame I will carry with me to the grave. Somehow the memory of the times we shared and the stories you told me of your family, of the bravery of the Maori has been a lifeline for me. I have devoured every book in his library and been allowed to buy many more in this insatiable hunger I have for learning of the world outside these walls. I am determined to get away from him, to see if there is more to this existence than I have been allowed to experience. Books and writing have always been a solace to me, from the first time that I discovered how easy it was to make sense of what I saw on the pages and so I have evolved a plan for independence, for escape that uses the small skills I have in this area, a plan that I have been long in accomplishing but filled my lonely days with my only pleasure. It has been remarkably simple, though time consuming, perhaps because I exist in Peter’s world but I LIVE in mine, in my head and what I have read tells me that there can be more. I assumed a pen name and have had some success in writing, enough so that the money you see here is but a small part of what I have amassed. There is enough now to leave him and try to remain far enough ahead of Peter to elude him until he tires of the chase. He will not give up easily I think for he’s very possessive and possibly a little mad. Still I am going to try and if you will take a chance on me I am asking that you go with me. You are my only friend Selma, the only person I can trust. I can support us both but I need you to be there for me, to talk to, to enjoy the things we see and do, to keep me sane, to be my mother/sister/friend. This is not a small thing I ask of you and if you can not do it I will understand for what I have become over the years could make you feel disgust rather than the love we once had in those days when you were my only friend, my family. Either way, I will continue to love you, even though it may have to be from a distance. And so my friend, if you meet me again at the book store I will know that we will travel together. Keep the money, whichever way you decide. I have given it to you for I know that Papa owed you and if you decide to go with me there will be things you must clear up to leave with a clean conscience, the Maori way. If not, then use it or give it away. Money is no longer important to me. Andi

CHAPTER 13, PART 2

Five long years when Selma worked at anything she could to keep ahead of her bills, for when she heard the next morning that Andi would not be back, she too left that house and never returned. Then one afternoon when she checked her mail on returning from work there was a postcard in the box, a simple postcard with the address of a book store in the trendy Yorkville Mall, a date, a time and Andi scrawled at the bottom. She took the day off work and went early, in the store browsing through the stacks when a long black limo pulled up out front. A huge man popped out of the front passenger seat, opened the back door and Andi step-ped out. She came in the store, leaving the man to stand outside. She was so beautiful, that rich hair, still long and waving, to her waist, her lilac suit with a silky shine that spoke of money, her skin so pale it was luminous, eyes that sparkled with green fire but cold, so cold and alert, missing nothing. The clerk fawned over her until she fixed him with a look and he scuttled back behind the counter, leaving her to wander the aisles, slowly making her way to Selma. She passed the tiny woman, barely audible as she whispered, ‘in the ladies room’ and five minutes later they were hugging and crying in the john. “Oh, Selma, I’ve missed you so much,” Andi said, bending to hug the smaller woman for over the years she had passed the Maori woman in height, not by much, but she was well over the five foot mark Selma would never reach. “Child, I thought of you every day. What happened? Why didn’t you come back?” “Aroha, we have only a few minutes before Peter’s guards come to see what I’m doing. Here, take this and read it later.” She pressed an envelope in Selma’s hand and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I have a plan to get away from him, and enough money to do it. It’s all in the letter. Will you meet me here one more time, three weeks from today, the same time?” Selma agreed and Andi kissed her brow once more, left the Ladies Room quickly and when Selma calmed enough to exit a few minutes later, it was just in time to see the clerk hand a large bag of books into the limo and return into the store. The limo drove off and Selma went home, eager to read what was in the envelope in her pocket. She sat in her overstuffed, lumpy, old armchair and opened the letter, amazed to first see a large wad of money, hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars, more cash than she had ever seen outside a bank. The letter was long and she began reading it, stopped to get a box of tissues and continued. My darling Selma: There is no way to describe to you the importance of my belief that you are still my friend. Through these endless years it is the only thing that has kept me sane, knowing that out there some where was someone who once did and still could love me and with that one sparkling thought I have endured a life that at most times did not seem worth continuing. My hope that night that at last Papa would change was a foolish child’s dream. We went to his associate’s house but not for the dinner and meeting I had expected, instead Papa traded me to Peter Escondle for money or cancellation of debts. It was over so fast. Papa was gone before I realized what was happening and the door was locked and this stranger was explaining what my new life would be. Peter is a smooth talking man though he is not much to look at. He’s fairly tall, about five foot ten but very strong, thin and pale, thin blonde hair and eyebrows, almost an albino look about him, grey eyes and pale skin since he has a slight allergy to sunlight. Perhaps his build is why he always hires men who are very large to work for him, it gives him a feeling of power to boss them around. He talked to me quietly for a while, telling me that I could have tutors, could buy anything I wanted, clothes, books, but that since he was so important and wealthy I could never leave the grounds without a guard. He took me on a tour of the house, the indoor pool, the huge, well stocked kitchen, the wonderful library and then finally to the suite of rooms that were to be mine. And then he ripped off my clothing and raped me, several times during that endless pain filled night. Now when I look back I think he wasn’t really satisfied with what he was able to do. He seemed to get more pleasure out of letting his men use me while he watched, especially when I screamed from the pain. I can’t begin to tell you the shock and the pain I felt, the betrayal for I’m sure that Papa knew what was planned for me and even though he was not a good father, he WAS my father. What have I done in my short life to deserve this existence I’ve been given? And so began the past five years. I was so frightened that first night, so stupid and naïve. When I saw the blood on my legs I thought I was dying but as the days passed and I was still alive, at times I wished I wasn’t. I have learned by listening carefully when others thought I was merely a ‘dumb little girl’ just how much worse Peter is than my Papa. His businesses are centered around every vile and despicable trade you can think of, drugs, pornography, both adult and child, sex videos, prostitution. The list is endless and though he doesn’t seem to be a major player still it is enough to make him very wealthy. One fortunate thing is that he is adamant against the use of drugs by his household so I have been spared that degradation at least. I have also learned to endure the humiliation, the times of being passed around like a party favor to visiting colleagues, the times when Peter’s men used me while he watched and I learned to accept all this with no feeling, learned to pretend to enjoy it or face yet another beating. The weekly visits of the doctor to ensure that I was not pregnant and/or diseased, after the check up having to pay the ‘doctor’ with sex, something I believe is called S and M. Perhaps Peter is right, the life I have is what I deserve, God knows he tells me often enough how useless I am for anything other than as a ‘playtoy’. I tell you all of this, though there is so much more, because I want to be honest with you about what that child you cared for has become. I am soiled, Selma and don’t know if I can ever become clean again. Perhaps there is something missing in me that I accepted anything they did to me and to the other children I saw briefly when they were brought to the house for ‘parties’. I never fought back and this is a shame I will carry with me to the grave. Somehow the memory of the times we shared and the stories you told me of your family, of the bravery of the Maori has been a lifeline for me. I have devoured every book in his library and been allowed to buy many more in this insatiable hunger I have for learning of the world outside these walls. I am determined to get away from him, to see if there is more to this existence than I have been allowed to experience. Books and writing have always been a solace to me, from the first time that I discovered how easy it was to make sense of what I saw on the pages and so I have evolved a plan for independence, for escape that uses the small skills I have in this area, a plan that I have been long in accomplishing but filled my lonely days with my only pleasure. It has been remarkably simple, though time consuming, perhaps because I exist in Peter’s world but I LIVE in mine, in my head and what I have read tells me that there can be more. I assumed a pen name and have had some success in writing, enough so that the money you see here is but a small part of what I have amassed. There is enough now to leave him and try to remain far enough ahead of Peter to elude him until he tires of the chase. He will not give up easily I think for he’s very possessive and possibly a little mad. Still I am going to try and if you will take a chance on me I am asking that you go with me. You are my only friend Selma, the only person I can trust. I can support us both but I need you to be there for me, to talk to, to enjoy the things we see and do, to keep me sane, to be my mother/sister/friend. This is not a small thing I ask of you and if you can not do it I will understand for what I have become over the years could make you feel disgust rather than the love we once had in those days when you were my only friend, my family. Either way, I will continue to love you, even though it may have to be from a distance. And so my friend, if you meet me again at the book store I will know that we will travel together. Keep the money, whichever way you decide. I have given it to you for I know that Papa owed you and if you decide to go with me there will be things you must clear up to leave with a clean conscience, the Maori way. If not, then use it or give it away. Money is no longer important to me. Andi

CHAPTER 14

Selma stopped speaking for a few minutes, weeping silently. Urs sat with his head bowed, his hands white knuck-led on his knees while Celia buried her head against Saul and wept. “Two months later she went to the mall to shop and never came out of the change room in Holt Renfrew thanks to some money changing hands with the salesgirl and a back door where I was waiting with a small van. We crossed the border to the States, and began the long years of running, no friends, no-one we could trust, never any boyfriends for Andi, though the gods know she was so beautiful many tried to get close but suffered terminal frostbite. We never seemed to lack for anything after the first few months, used the money from the articles she writes and the books, one every three years. “She was different from the sweet sad child I had known, icy cold and efficient at times, but always after we settled into a new place and it was just the two of us, she would relax and even laugh sometimes and dance about singing. She loves music, fills the house with it, all kinds, depending on her mood. And she has a voice with a four octave range, something I’ve learned from my years with her is rare, especially in someone untrained. “The years had made her strong, I don’t mean just physically though she was until the accident, working out all the time, jogging, using videos to teach herself tai chi and some other foreign stuff, climbing rocks when we lived near any, lots of stuff to keep in shape. But she was like steel at times, could sense danger, watched the people around her, around us. And devious, she always had a back up plan, an escape hatch meticulously in place in case we had to move fast and we did, often. We developed a routine, though Andi was always adamant that we not BE routine about our daily lives. We varied the days and times to shop, sleep, eat, gas up the car, nothing ever could be done by habit, same time daily. No, it was an escape routine. Only enough clothing to fit in one suitcase, bags in every room and closet to stuff with essentials if needs be, the same as it is in the house here, something you probably didn’t notice. “It wasn’t a bad life except for the constant moving and the loneliness. We went riding in Texas, often early so we could sit and watch the sun come up. She would go on ahead of me and fly like the wind over the land, her hair streaming out behind her, her face all flushed and rosy when she came back and teased me about being so slow.

“We saw most of the Broadway shows, always back row, near the exit, the same as all the concerts, Ashkenazy, Yo Yo Ma, Pavarotti. In Mexico she learned how to scuba dive and I sat in the boat shaking. I can’t swim. She would go off for a few days, always by herself and climb rocks, dangerous to do alone but she just laughed and said she would be careful. Once she came back all scraped and bruised but when I mentioned it she shrugged it off, said that Peter had done worse, much worse. “And such an insatiable curiosity, she never stopped learning, devour-ing books rather than eating or sleeping, researched her novels so that you felt she had actually been to those places, learned languages from books and tapes until wherever we went she could talk to the people easily. And she never forgot about me, about my mind. Part of what she learned she passed on to me, so I know how to camp in the bush and survive, how to get by in Italian, all the different types of coral that I’ll never see, how to bake and knit and which tartan is for each clan in Scotland. “What worried me the most was the guilt she felt and though I tried to make her believe it wasn’t her fault, still she felt that somehow the way she had been treated was payback for some failing of her own. ‘I should have run away then, Selma. I was weak and just as dirty and vile as Peter to allow those things to happen.’ At first she would shower for a long, long time scrubbing herself with a loofah until her skin oozed blood, but after a time she came to terms with it, said I was such a beautiful person in my heart that I couldn’t love someone as soiled as Peter convinced her she was. Finally she began to lay the blame where it bel-onged. “In the beginning I tried to get her to go to the authorities, have Peter charged, have his organization stopp-ed and she tried, but they threw their hands up saying she had no proof of anything. They wanted her to go back to him and work for them, getting proof, but she wouldn’t. He would never trust her again. She knows things but it’s something else again to prove them. “She started doing adaptations for the screen, mostly re-writes at first, a few shorts, her first real break with Saul. She flew to London to meet him, met one of Peter’s men in the airport and we had to relocate again, that time to Bermuda for three whole months and then it was pack and run again. So many times we’ve nearly been caught, so many close calls until about three years ago, when we were in Paris, he found her. “We were only there a few weeks, living in the cutest little apartment. Andi had just finished and sent off another book, and we were going to celebrate. We went to the market for seafood and salad stuff and on the way she gave me a set of keys. To a safe house she said and a car parked in a garage around the corner, once again it was like she felt something bad was coming. Later I found a note in the apartment in my dresser and an envelope with piles of money. As usual she had planned ahead. “It was while we were in the market that she suddenly stopp-ed laughing at some stupid thing I said in my bad French, pushed me under a table of lettuce and ran. When I got to my feet I saw two big guys push her into a car and she was gone. I caught a taxi and followed but they went in to an estate and locked the gates. And he kept her for three months. “Three long months while I waited, keeping watch outside the gates, using her money to survive until one day I saw her through the gates, a couple of his men dragging her to the little gatehouse. I almost didn’t recognize her, she was so thin and battered, her beautiful hair chopped off or ripped out in chunks. I thought she was dead but she raised her head and when our eyes met she shook her head, warning me not to cry out. She got away but not before he realized that she knew too much about his business and decided to get rid of her and not before he got her pregnant, though Andi thinks it was more likely one of his men. Apparently he liked to watch while they ‘did’ her. She told him about the baby and he beat her, said something about ‘two for the price of one’ and turned her over to his men. “For two more days I waited out-side the gates of his property while three of his men took turns with her, evil men just like their boss, men who enjoy giving pain to weaker people, especially women. They tried to break her spirit, wanted her to beg but she was strong, so strong and they tired of the game. She pretended to pass out and while they had a meal, stole a coat to cover her nakedness and escaped. I picked her up when she managed to climb over the wall and fall onto the sidewalk, but she pushed me out of the car, hissed ‘safe house, meet me’ and drove off, fast. She was running away from his men in the car, leaving me again so if they caught her I wouldn’t suffer her fate, and they chased her and rammed the car, from behind several times and then had a chance and T-boned it. I was following in a taxi and saw it. It rolled over and over, all squished and flattened and when it stopped moving the men looked inside and laugh-ed. She was covered in blood, her head split open, her legs where squashed under the dashboard and part of the steering column was broken and sticking into her stomach. “It was a bad time for Andi, her baby was gone, her legs were useless and he knew where she was, laying there in hospital, all bandaged up, her head shaved, casts on her legs to above the knees, defenseless. He came to the hospital once, after a few days, saw me but thought I was a nurse or housekeeping. He said when the hospital released her he would be back and he laughed and said ‘to finish the job’. “There was no choice. We left the hospital and Paris that night, traveling in an old Volkswagen van that a friend of mine sold to me, Andi in so much pain that she bit right through her lip. I had nothing to give her when the hospital drugs wore off and she wouldn’t cry out. She almost bled to death in that damned van, her head wound opened and the one where the steering wheel went into her stomach too.” She drained her drink and caught her breath for a minute, lost in the memories. “You wouldn’t have recognized her then. Her head was shaved. Her eyes still black and her lips dry and cracked, bleeding if she smiled. She weighed about 80 lbs. Just thin skin over bones, light enough that I could lift her, except for those damn casts that weighed nearly as much as she did, so I’m afraid I had to be rough handling her and that’s why the wounds opened, but it was the only way to manage. Her arms were bruised from all the intravenous tubes but those eyes, they just sparkled and she smiled though it was painful and she tried to joke with me. She never complained, not once, just cried and cried when she thought I was-n’t looking. She had no feeling from the hips down, nothing, and I was afraid that they were right, those damn doctors who so casually wrote her off and said she would not likely ever walk normally again. “We crossed the border into Switzerland. The guards were happy to have a thousand American dollars each to close their eyes, esp-ecially after I told them in my bad French that her husband was a vicious man and hurt her. I don’t like to lie but in that case it seemed justified. “She gave me the key and the code for her bank account in Geneva and I got us some money. We found a little place towards Lake Lucerne, used new passports that her lawyer sent us, found a doctor and Andi proceeded to get well, making plans through her lawyer and through the bank in Geneva for money and so forth, how, I don’t know. We stayed in Geneva 2 years, until Andi started to feel edgy when we saw a couple of nasty guys looking at the house. “The last year the doctors at a private clinic there told her she would never walk again but somehow her terrible life had made her tough and she told them to go to Hell. She worked either on her legs or on her computer, sometimes 18 hours a day, submitted articles and scripts under her new name. Saul email-ed again for another movie and just about that time one day I was in the garden and I heard her screaming for me. I raced in the house and she was laughing and crying and pointed to her left foot and moved her toes and ankle, not much but it was a start. “She worked on the script for Saul and cried when we watched it on the video he sent through the lawyers office. By that time she was moving a couple of steps a day with the walker. I would read Tolkien to her, it’s our favorite book. Like Andi says, such an epic of the little guy making a difference in the world, of honor and keeping your word. Then we saw those men looking at the house. We both knew our grace period was over, had always known it would end and never completely unpacked. “So just over two years after arriving in Geneva, we came to New Zealand with our new names, and new hope that maybe here he would-n’t find us. He didn’t find us in Geneva for two whole years, the longest we ever were able to stay in one place since this started. She was in hospital here in Wellington for 6 weeks while I found us a place, that’s when Saul knew she was in an accident, but he didn’t know when or the details. We did the usual shuffle, flew to Sydney, then off to Venice, changed to the other passports on the way to Rome then to Tokyo and finally Auckland and then here. She stayed in hospital while I found the house, was supposed to wait for me to get back from my cousin’s funeral but was so impatient she moved in alone. And we hoped that it would be impossible for him to track us and for a while it seemed that maybe at last we could have a life. “Things changed when she met Urs. The first night I was back she told me about you, Urs, and I knew. Her face would light up when she spoke of you or when she got your emails and finally I asked her. “Selma I don’t know what to do, I’m so madly in love with him it’s almost painful,’ she said and I told her to either find out how you felt or end the friendship. For it wasn’t fair to either of you. She wanted someone better for you. Said she was damaged goods and that it would taint your relat-ionship and that if Peter found her then what, leave you flat with no explanations or bury you if Peter found out how much she loved you, was that FAIR? Then Saul phoned and asked her to come to Alice and she said she would. She left here, an abused child and came back, at last, a woman, and I was happy and prayed that Peter would never find us. “And now he has and she’s gone, leaving me this time just because I have something worth-while in my life, something I would give up in a minute to be with her. She’s afraid for you Urs, afraid of what he would do if he found out that Andi loves you.” Selma took his hand and looked in his eyes, hers welling with tears. “And she’s afraid he will find her and kill your baby. She will do anything she has to, to protect you and your child.”

CHAPTER 15

Urs’s head shot up and through his tears she could see a look of wonder and shock. “Baby? But she said it was impossible. The doctors told her it was impossible.” Selma laughed, a mirthless, brittle sound. “Well you know our Andi, the impossible just takes her a little longer. She suspected it last month, and didn’t want you to worry, found out for sure this morning and she was so excited. She phoned me from the clinic, laughing and crying, said she could hardly wait to tell you, that she felt so blessed. When she got home the package was there, leaning against the front door. “She didn’t cry, just got that steely look in her eyes, the one that can turn flame to ice, went in the office and shut the door. An hour later when she came out I had packed all the important stuff and I could see behind her, her laptop and a bag full of floppies and other computer stuff. We talked, or rather she told me she was leaving and her eyes were all cold and hard. She was fiercer than I had ever seen her, in all our years, and she just said she was going and I wasn’t and I yelled and cried and she just looked at me with no expression and then jam-med me in the closet and locked the door. She said she loved me and I heard her collect her things and then she stopped at the closet door and said ‘Tell Urs, I will always love him. Just before lambing he should look for our child at Nona’s. Somehow I will manage that last act of love for him.’ Then the house was quiet until I heard the pool man whistling and yelled my head off.” There was absolute silence for a full minute, only the faint sounds of the children in the far off playroom drifting into the vacuum left when Selma ceased speaking. Saul jumped to his feet and began to pace. “We need a plan, I just don’t know where to start.” Celia grabbed him as he went by. “Saul, the first thing to do is calm down. How about if we go to the house and check out the office. There may be some clues there as to where she’s gone. Urs, what do you think?” He raised his head and the despair in his eyes was overpowering. They saw him visibly brace himself to use his wits and find her. “Yeah, that’s a good starting point, but let’s get the time frame right. We need to know when she left the house, how long ago was that?” Selma thought it was about 10:30. “Celia, you should stay here and check with the airlines for outgoing flights, last min-ute reservations, and the taxi and limo companies. Try to get a destination from whoever picked her up. Selma you should go with us, you’d know more about what’s missing, that might give us a clue.” They drove to the house in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Urs drove without seeing anything, his mind working in so many directions at once he was nearly catatonic. He thought of how frightened she must be and yet how brave, a baby! He was going to be a father, something he hadn’t dared to hope for. His anger boiled at the realization that his darling Andi had only been allowed the joy of her news for a few moments before the evil from her past slammed down on her once more. It WAS a blessing, one she should have been able to share with him, to laugh and cry over, to make plans for, together, not something that would cause fear and flight. He forced his mind to calm, to put his anger away for now, to concentrate on finding her and bringing her home. He would keep her safe. No one would dare touch her! Somehow they arrived at the house without running over anyone or wrecking the Jeep. They entered and went straight to the office. The house felt hollow, empty and the office looked it. The laptop was gone, several boxes of diskettes, her cane, the pictures of Selma and Urs from her desk. In the middle of the blotter was a letter to Selma, the name written on it in Andi’s flowing penmanship. A check of her bedroom showed only a carry-on bag gone and an assortment of shorts and tees, lingerie and some bath products. A rain slicker was miss-ing from the hall closet. The wall safe was open and empty and Selma murmured ‘Passports, will, cash, that kind of thing’. They went into the living room and sat while Selma poured a glass of cool juice for herself, the two men popping open beers, everyone trying to be calm but not looking it. Saul sat back in the soft cushions of one chair, wiping the cool surface of the beer bottle across his sweaty brow, one leg bouncing furiously until he put his hand on it. Urs sat on the edge of his chair, rolling the bottle back and forth between white knuckled fingers, staring at the floor, his eyes unfocused as he thought of Andi, of the miracle that they had created a baby, Trying to keep his wits about him so he didn’t explode into a million pieces. He looked up and stared at Selma as she moved about the kitchen. She retrieved the envelope addressed to her from the office and joined the men. “I hate to open it. It’s like if I do I’m admitting that she’s really gone, like she had died or something.” She sighed and wiped the tears from her face, sighed again and ripped the envelope open. There was a handwritten note inside, 3 passports in different names but all with Selma’s picture, 2 keys, each with a small plastic tag, one yellow, one red, and a copy of Andi’s will. Selma sat quietly and read the note and before the end began to sob. She finished it and passed it to Urs and he read it aloud, trying to keep his voice emotionless. ‘My darling Selma, Ko tuku Aroha: I’m sure the scene was not pleasant when I told you that you could not come with me this time and for whatever was necessary for me to do or say, I am deeply sorry. You will find in this envelope the keys and codes to my safe deposit boxes in Geneva {yellow tag} and in the Caymans {red tag}. This money is mine and clean, earned honestly, no stain from Papa or Peter. There are discs in the Geneva vault for 2 more books which you may sell but I suggest you keep to the 3 year routine for I have found that it works well. The list of my agent and lawyer etc. is on the last page. And my will, duly notarized, leaving every material thing I have to you. Do some good with this money, my sister/friend/mother, for yourself, for your people, for my child, though I know Urs will be a wonderful, caring father and our child will have a blessed life, never wanting for money or creature comforts or more importantly, love. I knew this day would come. For the first time there was joy in my life and while it lasted it was glorious! I have never been loved before or given myself so completely to another and the time I was allowed with Urs filled my life with such joy, at times I wanted to weep with happiness. Yet always in the back of my mind I knew that I didn’t deserve to be this happy, that it wouldn’t last and that Peter would find me. I truly believe he’s crazy, dem-ented, for what other explanation could there be for pursuing us all these long years? And so I made plans, long before Urs made me aware of the joy that loving and being loved could fill me with. There is really nothing much more to say. You know how I feel about you and about Saul and Celia. And you know that my love for Urs and our child is so consuming that I will do anything to keep them safe. There is an almost physical pain in my mind and heart when I think that I will never see him again, never hear his voice or touch him and yet this love I bear for him will give me strength to do what I must. I have a sanctuary where no one will find me and people I know I can trust to take my child, our blessed child of love, within hours of the birth to Nona and thus to Urs, for if I do not do it quickly I will not be strong enough to do it ever, and I know that I must, though it will break my heart. I’m tired Selma, tired of running and hiding and being strong. I wanted so much to just be a woman, Urs’s woman, to have friends, to be loved and to love, and for a time I thought I had found that here. Then the nightmare started again and I knew that it was a foolish, even selfish dream. I can’t fight anymore, not now when to run would be a risk I’m not willing to take with the lives of those so dear to me. I just pray that I can remain hidden long enough for this precious baby to enter the world, to hold him once before I must let him go.Take care of Urs for me Selma, help him with our child. I cannot leave him a letter though my heart cries out to try to explain to him, for if I dwell on my love for him and the pain this loss is causing I will lose the control that is so necessary now. And so I will enjoy the next six months while our child grows strong and healthy inside my body, making me look like I swall-owed a watermelon and changing my gait to a waddle. I will relish every kick and nudge and backache and the pain of delivering this new being in to a world where he or she will be loved and safe. Oh how I long to hold this precious child, to watch him grow and become a man like his father { I’m sure it is a son!}, proud of his heritage, gentle, strong, kind, talented, and loving, so loving. I will turn myself over to Peter when our child is safely with Urs and let this evil man who has hounded us for so many years do with me what he will. Then the running will stop and the danger to those I love more than life will be no more. Namarrie, Andi’

CHAPTER 16

Saul quietly got up and brought two more beer to the table, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he fell into his chair. They sat in silence for a few minutes and everyone started when the phone rang. Selma answered it eagerly, knowing it wouldn’t be Andi but hoping just the same. She passed it to Urs, mouthing ‘Celia’. “Urs, I have friends at the airport and in customs and they swear she didn’t board a plane out of Wellington. A heli dispatcher thinks she may have booked a seat on a short hop to South Island, but isn’t sure. Urs, I’ve been thinking. Andi is too smart to use an international terminal or even to try to leave the country since he knows what name she’s using now. I think she’s still in NZ. I know Andi is fluent in a number of languages. Ask Selma if she speaks Maori.” Urs asked the tiny woman and she nodded. “She’s not fluent but does rather well, enough to get by.” “Yes, she does. Where are you heading with this Celia?” “Well, who do you know in the Ngai Tahu, the Elders of the People? Perhaps some-one in authority might ask around. Andi respects the Maori. She knows she can trust them to keep her secret and to protect her. Though when she would have had enough contact with any Maoris I don’t know, unless at Rorotua or at the ranch. That’s it Urs, I feel it in my bones. Call your aunt and get her to check with the hands and I’ll book a chopper for you for Rorotua. You are going aren’t you?” “Let me know the flight time.” He replaced the receiver and dialed his aunt, waited impatiently for her to answer and choked off her cheerful G’Day with a rush of words. As ever, good in an emergency, she merely said ‘I’ll get back to you’ and hung up. Selma had been watching and listening intently and now spoke up, a frown adding more wrinkles to her brow. “I’ve been on the run with Andi for so many years that I’m starting to think like her. I think Peter would want to be in on the kill, is here in Wellington and she got away too fast for him. We would have heard something on the news if he caught up with her. This time I think he will just kill her. But we’re here and we could lead him to her if we’ve guessed right. I think we have to be very careful about racing off, careful not to be followed. “Andi would be so cautious, she would backtrack, go in a store and out another entrance, book a flight but not take it, drive the wrong way on a one way street to see if anyone followed, lose both of us in large public gatherings. Within days of any new place she knew every back road and lane, studied the maps until she knew all the shortcuts. ‘Never do anything that will bring attention to yourself, Selma’ she always used to say. ‘Not unless it’s a necessity.’ “She won’t use her cane in public, likely has boots with lifts to make her taller, maybe a wig or at least a big hat, makeup to darken her skin, glasses or sunglasses, clothes that make her seem fatter. I think if she is going to Rorotua or the ranch she’s driv-ing. I think she had a car stashed somewhere. I know she had a lot of cash in the safe and it’s all gone. I think she has a closed vehicle, a sedan or a small van, nothing flashy and is carefully keeping to the speed limit, stopping at fruit stands and take aways and planning to sleep in the car in rest stops or groves where it will be hidden. I think the only people she would trust with the baby would be the Maori’s.” Urs shook his head in wonder, appalled at the lengths Andi and Selma found necessary to elude this man, this monster who tried to murder Andi, likely did kill his own child and now could kill theirs. How had they ever kept their sanity living like that for so many years? Nona called back as they tried to come up with a logical plan, a very quick call that surprised Urs at first. “Don’t talk, just listen. Yano wants you to check your email. NOW!” and she broke the connection. Urs stared at the phone for a second before replacing it. Nona’s reasoning percolating through his mind. Yano was the only ranch hand who could understand the ins and outs of cyber space. They must be worried about phone taps! “Selma, just how powerful is this guy, this Peter? Could he have put taps on the phones, bugged the house? She laughed, again a sound with no mirth in it. “He isn’t ‘powerful’ at all, just rich and evil and crazy. I don’t think he has a big organization behind him or we never would have eluded him for so long. No, I don’t think he has enough ‘power’ to do that, not this quickly. His money could do it but without connections it would take time.” “Yano, from the ranch has sent me some information. I have to get my laptop.” He raced out the back, returning a few minutes later with his computer which he set up on the table and turned on, scrolling down through the mail until he reached the one from Yano. It was written in Maori and he read it aloud, translating for Saul. ‘Brother: My heart is heavy for you. No one on the ranch has made any plans to aid your woman but there is a new hand, here for the shearing. He comes from outside Rorotua and will only say that you should speak to his cousin, Tonu of the Ngai Tahu in Rorotua. Tell him of your grandsire and of this woman with the heart of a Maori. Be careful, but find her! We love you both. Yano’ They made their plans carefully, Selma packed a small bag to stay overnight at Saul’s for Urs would-n’t hear of her staying alone. She agreed with him and said it would be one night only. She had a friend with a big house and he had been after her repeatedly to live with him. Celia phoned with the flight time and Saul talked to her, quietly telling her of the developments, of the note to Selma. Urs snuck in the back way to grab a few things from his house, came back with a small gym bag and they piled into the Jeep. It was with a little more hope that they drove back to Saul’s, trying to spot any one who tailed them without giving away their intense scrutiny. They saw no-one though Selma muttered that she had that itch, the long familiar itch that told her they were watched.

At the house Urs made several phone calls, paced the floor, asked if anyone had a cigarette, the first time in the 5 years since he had quit smoking that he craved one. He was seething with rage, his eyes flashing fire, his brow fur-rowed, his hands clenched into white knuckled fists. Unable to contain himself, he roared with fury and punched the cement block wall around the pool until his hands bled and wept when he thought of her, alone, frightened, trying desperately to protect their child and in fear for his life. ‘I have no life without her,’ he thought, pacing once more while his friends watched him with concern. Celia approached him with a bowl of cool water and cloths for his hands and he was about to roughly push her away when he realized what he was doing and threw himself into a chair at the deck table to allow her ministrations. “Sorry, Celia. This is making me crazy.” “Shush! You do what you have to, whatever it takes to get this rage out of the way. You need to be in control when you leave here if there’s any chance of making this ruse work.” She poured sugar over his scrapped and raw knuckles, smiling when he looked at her in surprise. “I’m surprised you don’t know about this. It’s an old farm trick, makes the blood clot. You can very gently rinse it off before you leave.” For the next hour there were people in and out, friends asked to make quick appearances, some taking things away with them, some bringing things in, a confusion of people to anyone watching. Just after 2 in the afternoon, ten identical taxi-cabs pulled into the circular driveway and ten men, all just under 6 feet tall, all clean shaven, dressed identically in black shorts and black tee shirts, black sneak-ers and black leather herders hats, left the house, each entered a taxi and drove off. Urs was among them. Within a few blocks each cab took a different route, winding into the city, towards one of the airports, out to the country, to the bus depot. The drivers well paid to take circuitous routes and to watch for anyone following. Urs’s driver took a long winding route to Weta Workshop, drove in the secured gate and into one of the large parking lots. Urs exit-ed and quickly entered the hangar like building, talked for just a moment with friends and went through the build-ing to the back door where several friends waited with a variety of vehicles. He got in the trunk of a smallish sports car, crammed in with his computer carrier and gym bag and the entire group straggled out of the compound, inter-spersed with the normal traffic of trucks and private cars. He was a big man and it was an uncomfortable ride, but productive for he spent his confinement thinking of ways to inflict pain on this man he had never seen, didn’t even have much idea of his appearance. The thoughts of what Andi was going through made him groan. How brave she was and how foolish. If only she had told him, let him help. His sorrow that she had not been able to overcome her fear enough to trust him, made him swing wildly from wanting to shake her in anger to holding her in awe that they had created a life. She had to accept the fact that she wasn’t alone anymore! Somehow when he found her he had to convince her to trust him, to let him help. The car came to a stop with a slight squeal of brakes. After a few minutes of Rusty puttering around in the front, seeming to look for something when actually he was watching the vehicles pulling in behind him, he came to the back and popped the trunk. “Thanks Rusty. I owe you,” Urs said as he unfolded himself from the space, collected his gear and tried to get his back straightened. “No worries, mate. When you get back with that little pixie of yours, I want the story and could use one of them chocolate deeelites she makes. Good luck!” Urs went in the small office of the heliport and stood for a few minutes looking out the window. There was nothing suspicious in the lot, but then he was new at this. He turned to the man behind the desk and asked about his flight. “Last one of the day, mate. Ya just made it. Right through there, Henry has it all warm-ed up ready to go.” They left Wellington behind rapidly, the outline of the city fading behind them as they headed northeast for the pass between the two mountain ranges. Far below Urs could see the road snaking back and forth through the valleys, heading steadily upward into the mountains, winding through the pass where it would skim by Lake Taupo before heading on into Rorotua. About 400 miles but it would take Andi two days to do it, the road mountainous for much of the way and too, she would want to keep to the speed limit, not draw attention to herself.

One of his many phone calls from Saul’s had been to a friend in Rorotua, and the return call from Tonu confirmed what Yano had told him. Tonu was to escort someone to Tauranga on the Bay of Plenty, a woman who needed aid, needed the protection of the Maori and had shown the proper respect for the elders when she requested this aid. Because of his heritage, Tonu would tell Urs of this, the Ariki, the Tribal Leader, had given this permission. A Pakeha {Caucasian} would not gain this knowledge from the Maori. Tonu’s son would meet Urs at the heliport and they would drive to Tauranga. He looked down at the road and wondered if somewhere along the winding length of it Andi drove, trying to be brave and strong. Thinking of her he dozed and woke only when the pilot announced through the roar of the rotors that they would land in a few minutes. Rorotua hadn’t changed since his last trip here. The sulphur smell was still the first thing any one noticed, caused by the numerous springs and mud pools. It was a good sized city in spite of the odor, enjoying an attraction for tourists that was evident in the numerous grand hotels and amenities. Today he wasn’t interested in the Rorotua Museum of Art and History or Lake Rorotua or the many Baths or the Orchid Gardens or any of the varied amusements to be found in the area. Today he just wanted to see the face of Tonu’s son and get on the road to Tauranga on the coast. They landed and Urs collected his gear, strode into the small terminal and was approached almost immediately by a giant of a young man, sandals, multi colored sleeveless top and brown shorts that matched the glowing color of his tanned skin. “Kiaora, Urs. Flip, Tonu’s son. Got a Jeep just outside.” The young giant grinned as he scooped up Urs’s gear with his huge hands and led the way. “The word has been passed, you know how it is. We don’t talk much to Pakeha, not more than the stuff the tourists expect anyway but among ourselves word gets around like it rode the wind. Papa is with her. They stopped for petrol in Tarangi, probably make for Taupu tonight, do the rest in the morning. Anyway, she’ll be OK. They say she’s a good driver and I taught Papa everything he knows about driving. The Ariki in Taupu will have someone watch over them for the night and pass them off in the morning.” Urs breathed a deep sigh of relief. He was ahead of her and knew where she was going and that she would be kept safe on the journey. He relaxed and grinned at the young man. “Brother, how am I ever going to repay you? I owe you all big time for this.” “Hey, movie man, your mano is pretty high among the people. And you know how we feel about our women. It’s tapu to mess with a woman of the tangata, especially one who’s hapu.” Urs laughed at the mixture of Maori and English as the young man explained that Urs was well thought of and that no one should mess with a pregnant woman of the people, it was taboo. He knew that all forms of life were sacred to the Maori, and that now he could relax a bit. “Well Flip, got any plans for tomorrow or the day after? I find myself in need of a strong man to stand up for me in the wedding ritual. She doesn’t know it yet but this woman is going to become my wife in the next few days.” Flip tossed his long black hair back over his shoulders as he laughed and pounded on the steering wheel, never diminishing the break neck speed at which they rattled down the road. “That’s so cool, man. Have to be the second day ‘cause we need to make a big Hangi for it and ya gotta get the papers. You got it, I’ll be the best warrior standing in the groom’s way you ever saw.” They laughed and made plans.

CHAPTER 17

It was dusk when they pulled up in front of the small apartment building. Tonu thankfully driving the final stretch from Rorotua to Tauranga, for Andi’s legs were aching. He was a tall, quiet man, big and gruff, his hair long and graying, eyes that twinkled with humor. He played music for the whole trip, CD’s of Maori music, soothing and stirring, was impressed when Andi admitted that she understood most of the lyrics. Only once did he ask her direct questions, probing gently into the reason for her flight and she answered him as best she could. “My friend, the aid you have given me is beyond repayment, yet if I am to keep my honor, my mano, I must decline to answer for I will not tell you an untruth. Just know that I have not broken the laws of the pakeha or the Maori and will not bring you dishonor.” He asked her no more personal questions, just smiled with satisfaction and spoke of the legends of the area. Tauranga was a pretty town, built to cater to the tourist trade and the fishing that was abundant in the surr-ounding waters. The air had a salty tang, crisp and clean and as they drove the long way through the town the lights were just coming on in the yachts and fishing boats in the harbor. They turned off the main road and went a little further, following the sea wall, passing the end of it and progressing past a tree lined beach. At last Tonu turned into a laneway and parked in front of a small apartment building, smiling as he recognized his son’s vehicle parked a little further down the drive. His long route through the town had given his friends that they passed, the edge he needed to warn Urs of their imminent arrival. “We’re here. How do your legs feel, there’s stairs but only a few?” “Tonu, do you mind if I walk on the beach for a few minutes? I need to stretch after sitting so long and I’d like to be alone with the stars and the water, just for a moment.” He smiled in the gentle way he had, understanding more of this small woman than she realized. “Go ahead. I’ll just take your things up stairs and relax a few minutes. Come up when you’re ready…the front apartment, on the left at the top of the stairs.” She limped off across the street and he watched her for a moment, could nearly see the aura of sorrow about her and his heart ached with the sadness. To lose one’s joy of life was a serious matter to a Maori. He sighed and motioned to the shadowy figure he could see on the balcony. In seconds Urs was down the stairs and gripping his arm in welcome. “She walks on the sand to look at the water and stars and to allow her sorrow release in private. She is watched but with discretion and will come to no harm.” Urs looked toward the beach and hesitated, not sure what to say to her, how to con-vince her to return to him. He glanced at Tonu, saw the slow smile and nod and headed for the water, running lightly across the road and through the tall palms until he saw her, standing at the edge of the water, looking out to sea. He stood in the shadow of the trees and saw her tense and whirl to look back at the land, some sixth sense honed by the years of flight warning her that someone was close. She took a step to the left saw another man walk on to the sand, a big man, then to the right and saw the second man step into view and turned once more to face the shadowy figure under the palm. He could see her stiffen and raise the cane, the Maori carved cane that he had made for her, and assume a defensive stance. Urs called out to her and stepped into the moonlight, taking long strides as he moved to her. He could see the confusion, saw the cane come down, fall from her hand, saw her begin to crumple and heard her cry out. “Urs! Omigod, Urs. We have to run. There are two men, down there on the beach.” He was in front of her now holding her in place with his long, strong arms. “Friends, Andi, they’re friends. They’ve been guarding you since Taupu.” She raised her face to him and he could see the streaks of tears as she pushed at his chest to free herself. “You must let me go Urs. If you could find me so easily he can. He will kill you. Urs and I can’t live with that. Let me go.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her, glaring at her, his anger plain even in the moonlight. “You are mine, Andi and I do not so easily give up what is dear to me. You are mine and the child in your body is mine! We will face this monster together. Trust me, Baby. I love you, I didn’t think it was possible to love you more but I do. You’re strong and brave and wrong. This man is a coward. He can’t beat us both. Let me help you. Let me protect you and our child.” She melted against him and he knew he had won this battle. She was feather light in his arms as he carried her off the beach, across the road and up the stairs into the apartment building. Tonu had left discreetly, leaving the door ajar, a few dim lights on. He sat her on a wicker couch near the open balcony doors and went out on the balcony. The lights of a Jeep parked down the street flicked on and off and when he waved, drove off. Andi was leaning back on the couch with her eyes closed. He removed her boots, picked her up and headed for the bedroom and bath. The apartment was small but efficient and decora-ted with a few pieces of Maori art. He entered the bedroom, lay her on the bed and removed her clothes. Her eyes were open now and she watched him with amusement, the fear beginning to fade “Is that all you ever think of? Getting me naked and in bed?” He laughed and took the last of her clothes off. “Can’t think of anything that’s more fun, Except maybe showering with you.” He put her over his shoulder and found the bathroom, turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature and stood her under the spray. His clothes were gone in a flash and he entered the water with her, holding her as the warm water cleansed them both. They bathed each other gently, slowly, an act of love and promise. Wrapped in towels they curled up together in a large chair on the balcony, now both calm and ready to talk. She teased him about his new look and he explained that he shaved off his moustache to look like all the other friends who had volunteered to confuse any watchers. Urs wiggled his hand under the towel and placed it on Andi’s stomach. “I’m glad those doctors were wrong. Our own little miracle! I can’t wait to see you so big you can hardly walk and can’t see your feet. You’ll be even more beautiful than you are now.” “Urs, how much do you know?” “Everything. Don’t be angry with Selma. She was out of her mind with fear for you. We don’t need to talk of it again, not now. I understand now and have such pride in what you’ve achieved after what was done to you. Now we can plan for the future, for the three of us.” Andi snuggled closer to him, resting her head under his chin, listening to his heart. “It’s hard for me, this learning to place my life in your hands but at the same time it feels right. I don’t want to live the old way anymore, hiding and in fear, alone, just Selma and me. You have a plan, I can see it in your eyes. Tell me.” “Not now, there’s something we have to do in the morning and I should have spoken to you first but it’s something I want so much I just went ahead with it.” He turned her in his arms and smiled as he spoke. “You know I want to marry you, Andi. Will you join with me in a Maori wedding ceremony tomorrow? Will you let me be your husband, your lover, your friend for the rest of our lives?” He heard and felt her breath catch, saw her eyes fill with tears, but her lips curled in a smile and she laughed as she reached her mouth to his. “Yes, oh yes!” He was so tender with her that it was even more memorable than their first time. His hands skimmed her lightly, treating her as if she were precious, breakable, an object of adoration to be treasured.
One shaded lamp beside the bed was left on, purposely so they could watch each others eyes as pleasure flooded them, again and again, rising gradually to almost crest the peak, easing to a quivering need, fueled by their love and the commitment they had vowed to make, the fires stoked by the discovery of more and more sensitive areas that demanded attention, each with a craving that needed appeasing but wanting above all else to give pleasure, not merely take. Together they reached the point of no return, giving and receiving as one, joined in love.

CHAPTER 18

It was 15 minutes to midnight when a knock came to the door and Tonu called out to them. Urs opened the door, fortunately clad in more than just the towel now, for he knew Tonu was coming, and that he would be accompan-ied by two lovely young women. “My daughters will stay with the bride this night, young Urs. It is the custom that you not see the bride until it is too late and you are wed, that way if she is very ugly you can not run away.” He laughed and gestured to the girls to enter. They giggled as they passed Urs and rushed Andi off to the bedroom.

“Come, my friends and I will help you to drink until you cannot stand. Then when my little son challenges you tomorrow, he may win. He is single and I have taken a great liking to the spirit of this woman. She will make a good wife and give her husband beautiful babies.” Tonu laughed as he put his meaty arm about Urs’s shoulders and half dragged, half pushed him down the stairs. Urs forced his eyes open and tried to focus on the ceiling. It was full morning, the sunlight streaming into the room, a shaft of light across his face waking him but he wasn’t sure where he was. The ceiling of the room was composed of thin slats of polished wood in an intricate design, quite beautiful if his eyes would stop going out of focus. He turned his head, too quickly at first and a stab of pain blind-ed him for a moment so that when he moved again it was with care. It was a large room, bright and airy, net curtains at the open glass doors to the balcony, rattan furniture in soft natural shades scattered about the area, the theme of greens and soft yellows and white carried through to the bedding and rugs and the lush plants just to be seen on the balcony. Tonu’s, now he remembered. They had driven to Tonu’s house to join a group of men for a hangi, a feast of food and homemade brew of some kind and somewhere in the midst of the laughing and joking and drinking Urs lost his senses. He remembered faintly laying on a floor and laughing, of his body lifted with ease by two of the men and Tonu chuckling as he bid him rest well. Gradually he forced himself up onto the edge of the bed, noting absently that it was extra long, perfect for his tall body and he looked longingly at the spot he had just vacated. No, there were things he needed to do, one of which was becoming urgent. He found the bathroom in the nick of time, emptied his stomach, then his bladder, then his stomach again. The taste of a stringent mouthwash made him feel slightly better, a cool shower, even more so and by the time he re-entered the bedroom he felt almost human. Tonu was waiting for him, lounging with his long brown legs stretched in front of him, sitting up when Urs entered the room. “Your grandfather would have been proud of you last night, young Urs. There were only three of us still able to stand when you went down. He was a good man. You are much like him.” Urs laughed, carefully, his head still feeling like it would explode. “I feel like I’ve been poisoned, beaten, rode hard and put away wet. Do I have any clothes or did I lose them too along with my sense?” Tonu chuckled and gestured to a closet on the far wall. “In there. Cover your manhood for my wife and some of my daughters are in the kitchen and I do not wish for them to make comparisons. Hana will feed you something for your big head.” Urs opened the closet and on a shelf found a stack of neatly folded men’s sarongs in multi colors and designs that offended his bleary eyes. He chose one at random and wrapped it around his hips, letting it fall to his ankles, made for a tall man, comfortable. “I thought your daughters stayed with Andi last night?” he said, the question and concern clear in his voice. Tonu rose to his feet and started for the door, smiling in the gentle way he had. “Your mate was well guarded last night by men from the Marae as well as my family. I have seven daughters and six sons. You will see. My Hana is a very beautiful woman.” Indeed she was, Urs found as they entered the kitchen. It was more or less open air, a large room with glass doors all along one side, open now to let in the morning breezes, a huge table and many chairs occupying one entire end with most of the seats taken by black tressed young women and a couple of very large young men. On the opposite side of the room the walls were taken up with cupboards, yards of marble topped counters, cooking centers with ovens and indoor-outdoor fire pits and a huge double refrigerator. Hana closed the door on one side of the fridge and handed Urs a glass of some green frothy liquid and laughed as he eyed it with suspicion. “Drink it, child. It will make your head come back to the proper size.” She was about the same height as Andi, slender and curvy, straight black hair that fell in a shiny cascade to her knees, wearing a trad-itional sarong. Her eyes were kind but firm as she stared at Urs, daring him to defy her and he gulped the beverage down, surprised that it tasted much better than it looked. He had nearly finished eating a small breakfast of fruit and tea when he realized that his headache was gone. He glanced up at Hana, smiled and nodded. “It worked. Thank you.” She smiled and patted his hand. “Thirty years of marriage to Tonu and six sons has made me wise in cures for the big head. Your chosen woman is very beautiful, Urs, in spirit and in body. I was over there as the sun rose, for my daughters called and said she was concerned and uneasy. We explained about last night and she laugh-ed until her eyes filled with tears. She prepares now for the ceremony and so must you. We must leave for the Marae, the sacred plaza, in half an hour. Dress in your own clothes, the men will dress you for the ceremony.” He returned to the bedroom with his clothes from last night washed and folded neatly in his hands, brushed his teeth with the new brush Hana had given him and did a quick shave. It was his wedding day. He had often thought through the years since he became a man that he would never marry. Of all the women he had formed long or the more usual, short, relationships with he had never before felt this urge to make the step to marriage. His beliefs were colored by his strong Maori feelings, that to take a mate was something to be not done lightly, that it should be a lifetime commitment. With Andi it was a step he was eager to take.bHe shrugged into his clothing and hurried from the room, anxious to take the steps that would mate them for life.

CHAPTER 19

The Marae was much like any other Urs had seen in his travels about New Zealand, high brush walls bordered by a riot of gardens, Maori totems about the gates, the same that is until he passed the warrior at the entrance and the elder women who chanted as he passed them. This Marae was huge, much bigger than any he had been in before and well appointed, rooms off to the sides of the walkway, some offices with modern equipment, some store rooms or meeting rooms, Maori antiquities on pedestals and walls. He joined Tonu and a small group of other elders and they led him deeper into the compound into a large room built into the outer walls. There was a door in the outside edge and Tonu explained that was in case he wanted to escape, added that it was locked and the key traditionally kept by the father of the bride, in this case, the role he had taken for himself. He laughed as Urs shook his head and said he wouldn’t be needing the key. The men stripped him and oiled every inch of his long muscular body, giving his tanned skin a healthy dark glow. They wrapped a braided vine about him just above his hips, oiled his manhood again, with gentle comments of envy and approval at his size and draped the white silk rectangle of cloth over it, the chastity drape, covering his genitals and butt, then placed a silky patterned man’s sarong about his hips, secure-ing it on one side. It was in sea shades, greens and whites, and blues that Urs couldn’t see as more than gray, shot through with a silver thread. His feet were bare, as were the feet of everyone inside the Marae, except for the wov-en cluster of green orchids which formed an anklet around his left ankle. He was ready. The number of people that had turned out was amazing, groups clustered here and there, children skittering about, elders happily ensconced in wicker chairs. They made their way through the crowds to the main outdoor plaza, to the end of a path strewn with leaves and flowers and approached the small hut built early in the morning for just this purpose, a waiting area for the Ariki and the groom until the arrival of the bride. He took one last glance about, at the cluster of musicians and singers, the flowers that draped over every surface that didn’t move, the gay colors of the clothing of the people, the giggling throng of women at the far end of the flower strewn path and he entered the hut. The Ariki for the Tauranga people was very old, wizened in his facial features but his bearing still strong and tall. He accepted Urs’s respect and welcomed him, briefly mentioning his grandfather and the happiness Urs brought to the Maori by choosing to acknowledge his heritage. He spoke of the duties of a man to his woman, to his children, to his people. Urs answered as was expected of him and truthfully for the Maori way was an easy path for him to follow, so closely did it align with his own personal beliefs. The Ariki blessed him, calling on the old gods to give him strength and wisdom. He left the hut and joined the men who waited outside, leaving Urs to think on what had been told him and motioning to the elder woman at the far end to have the bride start her journey. At the sound of the music and the murmurs that came from the crowd as they lined the aisle, Urs stepped from the hut and took three steps down the flowery path. He could see Andi now, accompanied by Hana and six of her seven daughters, all tall and very beautiful but his eyes ignored them, watching Andi come to him. There was little of her he could see. Her small white hands out to each side as the Maori women led her along the path, her tiny pink toes peeking out from below the hem of the sarong she wore, the fabric matching his. In the traditional way she was draped with a sheer cloth which completely covered her head and bare arms, hiding that adored face from his sight, a circlet of green orchids holding the veil in place. He knew her view was limited but he couldn’t resist smiling at her, wond-ering if her heart was pounding as his was. Suddenly a huge warrior, his face and body tattooed with frightening colors and designs, leapt onto the path, brandishing a long fighting staff of carved and polished wood, the Taiaha.
Flip! He had forgotten about the traditional challenge to the groom. Urs stepped forward to meet Flip, accepting the staff handed to him by Tonu as he passed and squared off to meet the challenge. It was some time since he had sparred with the long staff but the rhythm and tricks soon came back to him. As he had promised, Flip took this job seriously, landing a few smarting blows to Urs’s ribs and back as they parried blow for blow but soon his natural athleticism aided him and Urs swept Flip’s feet, landing the young man on his back, defeated. Andi and the group of women had stopped when the challenge was made and now as Urs walked to them he saw Andi whisper to one, giving her a gentle nudge. The woman sped around Urs and retrieved the staff that Flip had discarded, brought it to Andi and when Urs reached her she knelt and offered the Taiaha to him. This was not part of the usual ceremony, he had seen enough of them over the years to know what should happen. This was something more, something very old that Andi with her knowledge of Maori tradition was doing to honor him. Andi was naming him her prot-ector, her Kaitiaki. If he accepted it would mean that her life was in his hands. He took the staff to accept this honor and her wrist to claim her as his, proudly leading the way the remaining steps to the Ariki. They stood tog-ether in front of the elder as the words were spoken and responses made, the singers and musicians playing softly in the background. Tonu took the staff and at the appropriate moment passed Urs the pendant of twisted sacred greenstone, Jade to the Pakeha, chosen the previous day as a wedding token after he had filled out the forms to allow the ceremony. Andi’s hand was shaking as she placed it in his to receive this treasured token of love, fidelity and respect and she took the coronet of orchids from her head to place on his. At last he could look at her. He raised the veil over her face and head, let it fall to the ground and drank in the sight of her. She was radiant with love and joy, her eyes a flashing emerald green, her cheeks rosy, that glorious hair shining in the bright light. Her sarong matched his perfectly and molded to her body, exposing the swell of her breasts, her smooth arms, the slightest rounding of her stomach. Urs placed the pendant of Jade on a platinum chain about her slender neck and they stepped into each others arms as the final blessing was given and the music grew louder, the people called out with happiness. They were wed. Andi was overwhelmed by the excitement of the crowd. She knew that almost like children, the Maori would use any excuse to celebrate, but this dancing and singing and crying for joy swept her away even though Hana had tried to prepare her. During the morning the wife and daughters of Tonu, Hana, Cerise and Angie, explained the ceremony to her, the veil, the challenge and shyly spoke of the consumation. It must be accomplished before midnight or the marriage would be void. Andi laughed at that knowing that there should be no problem. When they arrived at the Marae she was stunned and a little panicked to see so many people, but Hana was there and ushered her off to a quiet room to dress, keeping up a cheerful patter about Urs’s grandfather, Karoe, mentioning that she had known his parents, talking about how well respected the family was. Several times Hana mentioned that the Marae was sacred ground and no-one without the permission of the Ariki would be able to get in, that it was well guarded, that she must not mar this special day with sad thoughts or fears. Before they left the room to wait at the path for the ceremony to start, Hana, as an elder woman instructed Andi in the duties of a woman to her husband, to her children, to her people. In the Maori tradition, marriage was for life, infidelity a mortal sin, against the gods of old and the partner. She kissed Andi’s cheeks before dropping the veil over her upper body, the coronet of orchids on her head and as they left, intoned the Maori blessing for happiness. Andi saw Urs come into the plaza, glance around and enter the small hut at the end of a flower and leaf strewn pathway, the walk she would take to join him. She began to shake, letting her thoughts slip to the feelings of inadequacy that had been drummed and beaten into her so many years past. The Ariki came out of the hut and the music started and Hana began to lead her down the line of flowers, now bordered densely with smiling faces. And Urs came forward to meet her. Andi felt her knees turn to jelly as she looked at him through the mist of the veil. He was magnificent, oiled and glistening, tall and strong, his body rippling with muscles, his bare chest sculpted, the long arms that made her feel so secure, corded with muscle, veins running from shoulders through inner elbows along his wrists to disappear in those clever long fingers. His dark eyes shone at her and he smiled and she felt her heart flutter.

Suddenly a huge Maori man leapt onto the path in front of her and challenged Urs. She knew of this tradition but in her nervousness had forgotten. One of Hana’s many sons, the only one still single, as the tradition required. He menaced Urs with the long wooden fighting staff and Urs grasped one from Tonu and they fought. Andi knew that it was a mock battle, still she found that for the few moments it lasted she couldn’t breathe and when Urs took a few hits from the challenger’s staff she felt the blows. At last he went down and Urs discarded his borrowed staff and came toward her. Quickly she whispered to Cerise and the girl giggled and brought Andi the staff her brother had dropped when he fell. Andi knelt in front of Urs and held it out to him, knowing that he would understand. She wanted him to be her protector, to share this burden she had carried so long alone. Together they would face the dangers and defeat them. He didn’t hesitate and the glow she saw on his face was enough. She had honored him and she knew that he would not fail her. The ceremony progressed though Andi was in a daze and could not after remember what was said unless she watched and listened to the video tapes that Tonu had thoughtfully asked several friends to make. At last Urs placed a pendant made of sacred greenstone in her hand, she put her coronet of pale green orchids on his head and he removed the veil. He was grinning at her in the naughty little boy way she loved, he put the pendant about her neck and they kissed while around them the music and cheering became deafening. They were married and Andi cried with the joy of it.

CHAPTER 20

Somehow in the confusion and congratulations that afternoon they managed to get away for a few minutes, follow-ing the Ariki to the Marae office and using his computer to send messages to Saul and to Nona. Dearest Friends: WE’RE MARRIED! Just minutes ago in a Maori ceremony we were joined for life. Now it’s time to party! Wish you were here for the Hangi but we’ll have another for our Pakeha friends after we put an end to a small matter. Have a plan. Will phone or email later today. Love you all, Urs and Andi Buhler “We have a plan?” Andi said as they went hand in hand back to the Hangi. Urs smiled at her and tightened the already firm grip he had on her small hand. “No more running Andi. Now we need to get on with our lives.” He pulled her hand up to his chest and held it there a moment. “Today we won’t think about it. We’re safe in the Marae. Tomorrow will be soon enough.” They were swarmed with happy guests when they entered the plaza, were escorted to seats of honor on the grass mats scattered about and served from the heavy laden tables of delicacies, fruits and roasted veggies, shellfish. The music swirled about them. Children raced from one game to another, dancers performed traditional pieces, men in ankle length sarongs pass-ed among the people with huge kegs, filling the glasses that were emptied again and again. Flip joined them, the temporary tattoo gone from his face and body and he laughed as he folded his meaty body onto the matt. “Brother, you might have warned me that you could fight with the Taiaha. The bruises will look good though when I corner one of the maidens later tonight.” He smiled at Andi and leaned toward her. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind, pretty one? There’s still time before midnight.” Andi smiled at his young eager face. “Thank you, Brother, but my heart belongs to this one.” She placed her hand on Urs’s leg where it rested lightly against hers, was rew-arded with a look of withheld passion that sent a surge of pleasure through her. Urs drew her to her feet and with one mind they crossed the plaza, took a flowery path beyond the hut of the Ariki and entered a plain grass hut. The scent of flowers filled the airy space, garlands and petals and carved buckets of blossoms everywhere and in the center a fluffy mat of fibers and woven cloth. Urs tied the cloth door in place and wrapped his long arms around Andi, nuzzling her neck with a moist mouth. “I can’t wait any longer, Pixie. Give yourself to me. Now! I ache with the need to give you pleasure.” She could feel the proof of his need through the thin garments they wore, a hard throbbing against her, and rubbed her tender chest against him, her body singing with desire. “No man has ever touched my body as you do, Urs. Love me now, I’m burning for you.” They cast aside the sarongs, each broke the braided cords that held the silk chastity coverings in place and feasted their eyes on the naked body of the other. Urs marked her slender neck in his passion to taste her while Andi caressed him, then withdrew to crouch on the soft matt, holding her hand out to beckon to him. They knelt and kissed, fell back onto the many pillows and consummated their marriage quickly, neither able to wait, both eager to reach the shattering peak. They rode the waves of pleasure, moaning with the joy of it and Urs rolled them over to lay on their sides, their skin slick, bodies still heated. He laughed when he touched and her body spasmed. “Not enough? Let me see what can be done.” He held Andi in place, on her back, her arms above her head and for the first time she resisted him, frightened by memories until she looked into his eyes and surrendered to the loving look there. He stroked her gently then harder, took her mouth, her breasts and she came in long rolling waves of heat, wrapping her legs about his hips as he entered her and thrust deep into her core, prolonging the climax, starting another and they cried out as passion took them over the top again. They slept spoon style for a while, Andi’s soft bottom against his stomach, Urs’s hand possessively on her belly where their child floated in safety, both totally spent. Urs woke once to silence, smiled as he realized that the guests rested, accustomed to this brief respite that tradition at first meant as a witness of the consummation of the vows, now used to recharge the energy of the partiers. He would be surprised if the joy of their union had not been heard, both he and Andi reaching such heights that last time he was sure all present could bear witness. Andi sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, her head on his arm, tucked neatly under his chin, almost as if her small body had been made to fit with his. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her, of their lovemaking, of the hundreds of blossoms about the hut and dropped back to sleep. The music woke them, a soft melody with happy voices joining in. They rose and dressed, forsaking the silken chastity cloths, donning only the silky sarongs. They exited the hut and the music swelled, the singing welcomed them and they joined hands and went to help wake their friends. It was near sun-down when the party resumed, the scent of roasted meats coming from the fire pits beyond the long tables, again the kegs of drinks and dancing, always dancing. Urs joined a dance of only ‘warriors’, a fierce, nearly frightening, chanting dance that reminded Andi of the All Black soccer team. He was laughing as he came back to her where she sat on the matt with Hana and Cerise. “That’s some workout. I don’t know how those guys do it and then play a full game.” “You all looked so fierce. All tattooed and chanting like that must have terrified any enemy.” Hana laughed and spoke up. “Your grandfather always said that’s why Adelia married him. She saw the dance and was afraid not to. She was a beautiful Irish girl too, her hair red but more of a coppery shade and taller, but she had that creamy white skin and the little spots, what are they called?” “Freckles, she died long before Urs was born, didn’t she?” “When Nona was about 2, I was eight years old but I remember. She was alone, it was lambing time and she fell, struck her head on a rock. We thought Karoe would join her, the grief was so bad, but he had the children to stay for. It was a very sad time.” Urs thought of his grandfather, of how he remembered the tall Maori man, always ready to show a growing boy how to do things, how to listen and see more than others, how he had helped when the plane crash took his son, Urs’s father and the others dear to them, Urs’s mother and uncle. Then within weeks the elder simply lay on his matt one night and drifted away from them to join his Adelia. “I remember how sometimes he would stare off into the clouds and his face would look so sad but there would be a smile about his mouth, as if he remembered something from long ago, something good. I felt such a loss when he left us. I still do.” “Do not be sad for him. I feel his presence here this day. He is happy for you both,” Hana said as both she and Andi placed a hand on his. “There is a blessing he used to say, it’s the first long Maori saying I ever learned: Kia Hora Te Marino Whakapapa-pounamu Te Moana, Kia Tere Te Karohirohi I mua I Tou huarahi. May the calm be widespread, May the sea glisten like greenstone May the shimmer of light Dance before your path” There was nothing Andi could say. She nestled close to him and he curled her into his arm, smiling and dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t get all weepy on me, Andi. I’m sure Hana is right. Grandfather Karoe is happy with his Adelia and I am with mine.” They watched the dancing for a while, laughing over the attempts of the very young children who tried to emulate the motions of the adults, Urs leaving once more to join Flip in an energetic war dance. Hana sighed with happiness as she looked about the plaza. “Tonu’s staff have done a wonderful job organizing the Hangi on such short notice. We tried to get Urs to wait until he asked you, but he was so determined.” Andi looked at her with raised brows. “His staff? What does Tonu do?” “Not much,” Hana laughed and shot an affectionate glance at her dancing husband. “At least not much unless it interests him. We own a couple of fair sized hotels along the beachfront, a few tour boats, a horse ranch. The boys manage most of the businesses, the girls all work in them until they marry, part time after when they are not with child. Jonti, Karoe and Toni put all this together yesterday while Urs chose your pendant and got the licence. Do you know the meaning of the twisted greenstone?” Andi smiled as she touched the precious symbol. “Greenstone is sacred to the people and the twisted pendant symbolizes the path of life. Though the paths cross and separate and join again, the eternity of love is strong and never fades even when apart, like the love we bear, one for the other. It’s a beautiful sentiment.” “You know much of our people, our traditions. Urs spoke of a woman of Aotearoa who has accompanied you for years. He has much love and respect for her.” Andi told Hana about Selma, her eyes alight as she talked of this woman who had accepted her so many years past and remained by her side throughout the good and the bad times. “My only regret about this day is that Selma couldn’t be here, but I know she’ll understand and be happy for us.” “She is here, child, you carry her love in your heart. And when you return to Wellington, use your great skill with words to tell her of this day. I have read your books and enjoy the way you bring life to your characters. I read each one many times as I wait for the next.” “Urs told you?” “No, Tonu, there are few things he keeps from me. Over the years he has learned not to try. He spent some time with Urs last night, some happy, some quietly while the rage and sorrow came out. Now his anger at what was done to you is cold and hard, easier to handle and to keep in control. You are a good woman Andi, good for this world, good for Urs and he loves you with a passion I have not seen since my Tonu chased me until I let him catch me.”

“Do you know what he has planned, what he won’t tell me yet?” “Yes, but it is not my place to tell you. When the time is right your husband will discuss his thoughts with you. You have named him your protector and you must not shame him by showing fear.” They watched the men return from their dancing, thirsty and slick with sweat and poured them glasses of the homebrew that was so popular. Urs was deep in conversation with Tonu and Flip but sat next to Andi and played idly with her fingers while he talked. The music changed to a slower beat, one Andi was familiar with from CD’s that Selma brought from her mother’s home. “Hana, I think I know this one. Selma showed me the dance and we used to do it a long time ago, back when we lived in Oslo. We would have Maori nights so we wouldn’t think about how terrible the weather was outside.” She laughed as she thought of it and when Hana caught her hand and dragged her off to the dance area, she didn’t resist. There were about thirty wom-en dancing, short, tall, thin, chunky, some young girls, some elders and they pushed Hana and her daughters and Andi to the front line. The newcomers caught up with the movements quickly, swaying to the music, stepping lightly as their hands and hips told the story. Andi did it well, as graceful as the others, once or twice a little hesit-ant about a move but smiling and at ease. Urs and the other men stopped talking to watch, the only comment from them coming from Flip. “Does she have a sister?” “Afraid not, brother,” Urs answered with a grin. “She’s one of a kind.” Just after the dance ended a gong sounded and the grilled fish and meat was paraded through the plaza to end up at the tables. No one moved toward it until Urs drew Andi to her feet and they went to take the first samples of food, then all began to fill their plates and return to the mats or chairs to feast. Urs and Andi sat crosslegged, sharing a platter of assorted goodies and they ate until they were stuffed. “I couldn’t move fast now if there was a fire! Urs, we still have to phone Saul and Nona or at least send them a longer email and we have to remind Saul to talk to Selma.” He leaned over and kissed her, his mouth all syrupy and sweet from a mango they had just finished. “As soon as we get to the apartment, they won’t care how late it is.” And it was late, well after midnight when the Ariki brought them the papers to sign and they knelt in front of him while he blessed them once more. All about the plaza the elders dozed in their chairs, children curled up on the mats and the young people of the Maori danced to more modern music from a stereo system, many going back to the food tables for snacks in between songs. Urs and Andi were discreetly ushered out to the entry where a limo waited and sped away to the apartment, followed by two Jeeps full of young giants who had drawn the guard duty for the night. They went up the stairs, Urs being very traditional and carrying his new bride over his shoulder and they shut out the world. It was perhaps an hour later that they remembered the calls and, wrapped in a sheet, sat on the couch to do their duty. Nona answered on the first ring, excited as never before had Urs heard her and he kept repeating that she should put it on the speaker until at last she did. They talked and Nona cried, then Andi cried and Yano and Urs talked over their sobs, promis-ed to meet in Wellington in three days and broke the connection. “Baby you have to stop crying. If you cry when we call Saul and Celia they’re going to think I’m beating you or something.” Andi wiped her face on the edge of the sheet and tried to smile at him but dissolved into tears again and buried her face against his chest. “I’m sorry. It’s just I’m so happy.” Urs dialed Saul’s number, not at all surprised when Celia answered immediately. “You’re MARRIED? You said in that stingy email you got married! Good on ya, boyo!” Saul bellowed while Celia told him to quiet down or the kids would wake up. “We told Selma and she didn’t stop crying for ten minutes,” Celia said and asked to speak to Andi. “I’ll try but she hasn’t stopped for the past half hour. Pixie, talk to Ceel.” Andi managed a few coherent words then Celia started to weep and she went back to her nest against Urs’s chest. “Saul, are you there? Man, I don’t understand women. She says she can’t stop ‘cause she’s so happy, go figure. We’ll be back in Wellington day after tomorrow, hopefully our wives will be dried out by then. Our wives, gawd it feels good to say that! Anyway, we’ve got videos so we can lock all the women in a room with a case of tissues and let them watch. And Saul, we need to arrange a press release for right after we get back, you might want to warn the PR guys.” He carried her back to the bed, threw off the sheet and calmed her weeping the only way he knew how. Soon passion overcame tears and they loved each other, curled up together under a soft blanket and slept until long after the sun was up.

CHAPTER 21, PART 1

They spent the day on the beach with Flip and a pretty young woman, Calli, that they recognized from the Marae the day before. Flip and Calli brought a cooler of beer, juice and leftovers from the hangi and a net bag of fruit, and they ate lunch, sitting on a mat listening to the waves and the music from Flip’s portable stereo. Urs grew nervous as the day passed, thinking about the meeting tonight when he would reveal to Andi the plan he wanted to put in motion. Tonu, Flip and a few other friends would meet with them at the apartment and Urs was unsure what Andi’s reaction would be but felt sure this was the way to handle the problem. They had to bring an end to this threat. Andi could feel his tenseness and vowed to herself to keep her temper, to let Urs take the lead, but it was hard, so hard. All these years she had been the one to make the decisions, the one to protect herself and Selma. The habit was so strong and warred with her common sense. She had changed, felt she had botched this escape royally if Urs could find her in just one day. A few years past she would have never left a trail so easily followed, though Urs claimed that a Pakeha {person not of the People} could never have breached the Maori wall of silence.

They left the beach well before sundown, wanting some time alone to talk before their friends arrived. A shower, a quick dinner and they went to the balcony to sit in the deep lounge chairs. “Andi, I want to tell you what’s happen-ing, what I think we should do. I want to tell you now before anyone arrives so there won’t be any surprises.” She felt that familiar shiver of fear but tried to hide it and smiled weakly at him. He took her hand, hitched his chair around so their knees touched and began. “I understand why you’ve spent so many years running from this man. I understand and I’m proud of the way you survived, honestly, never hurting anyone, protecting yourself and Selma as not many people could have. And to have come so far after he tried to kill you shows how brave and determined you are. But no more, it has to end, for the sake of all of us it has to end. You are not alone, not anymore. You have friends now and you have me. You are mine, my little Pixie and the life you carry inside your precious body, I put there. We deserve a life together. “I want to force his hand, go public with our love and our wedding. Let him know where we are, who we are. If we face him on our terms we can control the situation.” He felt her hand tense, the palm clammy, and tightened his grip. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car, ready but unable to flee. “Easy Baby, don’t give in, hear me out.” She nodded and held her eyes on his, her body shaking uncontrollably. “When you came here the other day, the Maori tracked you most of the way. I knew where you were all the time, got reports all along the road. Sometimes money isn’t what it takes. Sometimes it’s who you know and there’s a faster than the speed of light Maori information system that puts instant messenger to shame. Through my Grandfather Karoe and Yano and then Tonu I have access to this system and so knew you were prot-ected on your drive. We’re going to use this again, find out where he is in the country, if he’s still here, force a confrontation and if he won’t back down or is so demented that he can’t, then I’m going to kill him.” Andi flinched as if someone had hit her and her eyes welled with tears as she shook her head and wailed ‘NO!NO!NO!’ She pulled her hand free of his and sprang to her feet. “As much as he deserves to die I couldn’t bear it if you murdered him, Urs, not you, not cold blooded murder. I hate him, I want him dead but I can’t stand the thought that he could turn you into the same kind of monster he is.” She came to him and put her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks and looking at him with anguish. “Don’t you see? You are the only clean, wonderful thing in my life, you and our child. If you do this it will tarnish what we have, what our lives can be. Promise me that you won’t act in rage at what is past. That is my past, not yours, my shame, not yours and it is past. To react in defense of yourself or your loved ones is honorable. To murder another being is not.” He pulled her shaking body against him and murmured into her hair, his mouth near her ear. “Andi, please don’t cry. I don’t have the skill with words that you do and I said it badly. I agree with what you said, most of it anyway. I wouldn’t just pull out a gun and shoot the man. That’s not what I mean. If he insists on coming after you, after us, I’ll use whatever it takes to stop him, kill him IF I have to. I promised to protect you and I will. I would walk into the fires of Hell for you if need be.” They sat quietly for a few minutes while she calmed, then he heard her soft voice. “I’m sorry that I got you involved in this Kiwi. I wish he would just die, get hit by a truck or get cancer or anything that would have him out of our lives. Life is never easy is it?” He laughed gently. “Beats hell out of the alternative, though.” “I should have known that you couldn’t just kill him. You would not be the same person I know and love if killing could come so easy to you. I trust you. I’ll do whatever you think is best without any argument, in public.” He grinned when he heard the last two words, knowing that she would likely be fearsome, fiery if she did disagree with him but at least it would be in private. Just before eight o’clock they saw Tonu and Flip arrive, followed closely by 3 more tall men. Urs met them at the door and without much preamble all went to the living room and claimed places to sit. Urs chose to turn a kitchen chair backwards and straddle it, Andi by his knees on an ottoman she pulled over. “We’ve been talking among ourselves and need to know a few things.” Tonu began, none of the slow humor of the past night on his serious face now. “First, what is your ultimate goal, do you plan on just killing this guy when he gets flushed out?” Urs glanced at Andi before he spoke. “Andi and I both agree that it isn’t in our nature to end the life of another being unless it is in self defense. We have to give him the chance he would not likely give us, the chance to walk away and not come back. If that fails and he harms or is about to harm my wife or any other family or friend, then yes, I am prepared to end his life.” Tonu nodded his head. “Then it is our wish to aid you if we may. We need to know about him, what power he has, his skills, the ways he is likely to react. Andi, will it upset you to tell us anything you know about him, how he thinks, that sort of thing.?” Urs took her hand and could feel her tremble but she straightened her shoulders and grew icy calm, her voice firm and hard. “Peter is about 50 I think, five foot eleven, thin but not scrawny. He works out daily and is very strong. He’s a fitness, health food freak, pale skin and hair, almost an albino, often shaves his head since his hair is very thin. He surrounds himself with big men, the kind with no neck, not too intelligent ones because he isn’t well educated himself. He enjoys pain, getting it, giving it, can think of so many ways to inflict it on people.” She paused for a moment when her voice grew shrill, the memories too near, lowered her head and went on. “I can’t tell you how he will react. I think from what I’ve read, he’s a manic-depressive, his moods swings never seem to even out for long. He goes from a manic high of whirling energy when his sadism is directed at anyone in his path, a high that can last for weeks and just as suddenly swing to a deep depression when he wants to be hurt, destroys things he treasures so he can cry over them after. “He has few skills unless you count a mind that works well in the darker areas of life. Some of his money he inherited, then parlayed into a business dealing in drugs and perverted sex, isn’t smart enough to rise in that world either but even on the fringes there is money to be made and he managed to make a lot of it. I guess the wisest decision he ever made was to ban the use of drugs by himself and his staff and so those who do abuse it are the ones he controls, like my father.” She raised her head and they saw how hard talking about this man was. Her eyes welled with tears, her hands were white knuckled, her face haunted.

CHAPTER 21, PART 2

“When I first left him I talked to the RCMP in Canada, hoping that they would be interested in bringing him down but though they were interested they said I didn’t have enough real proof. They wanted me to go back to Peter and work for them, try to get something solid but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I knew he would never trust me again and that I would soon be too old for his tastes and would disappear like so many others. I couldn’t go back.” She hung her head, ashamed to admit her fears. “I can’t tell you how many people he has killed or ordered killed. The first year I was with him, I was thirteen and naïve. There were often young boys and girls at his parties, some of them I know now were from the streets, some so terrified. I never saw the frightened ones leave, except once when he finished with me and thought I slept. I heard a noise and opened my door a bit and saw his men come out of another room, carrying a little boy, younger than me. I thought he was asleep but now I think one of the guests used him too rough and he died. He died and I just went back to bed!” She stopped speaking for a moment and when she began again her voice was almost a whisper. “I can only tell you what I know from my own life that he is capable of.” She paused again and Urs tight-ened his grip. “Andi you don’t have to” She shook her head rapidly and gasped for breath. “No, I DO have to, I have to make you understand what kind of animal he is.” She calmed herself and began again. “About three years past, in Paris, he was in one of his manic moods when his men trapped me in a market. Selma was with me, my precious Selma. I couldn’t let him take her too so I ran and they caught me. Peter, he kept me for three months. He was worse than I had ever seen him and the men who worked for him at the time were monsters.” She stopped and seemed unable to go on but swallowed convulsively and continued. “After three months, time that I can’t fully remember and won’t talk about if I could, he gave me to his men to be tortured and finally killed. It was two or three days, I don’t know, time had no meaning for me. They ripped out my hair, at first kept me tied to a bed, tried to get me to cry or scream, but I defied them, fought until my strength was spent. I knew that it was my last chance to get away and I did, naked and barefoot, I got to the car Selma left for me but they followed and chased me through the streets until their car hit mine again and again and there was an enormous crunch and then the car was rolling over and over and the world went fuzzy, and there was so much pain and I tried to scream but couldn’t and they were leaning in the shattered window and laughing. There was blood , so much blood, in my eyes, in my mouth, choking me, everywhere and I was cold, so cold. My legs were dead, I couldn’t feel them at all and the baby his men had accidently given me, the broken steering wheel was in my stomach, killing my baby.”She sprang to her feet and muttered ‘excuse me’ as she left the room. Urs followed her to the bathroom, they heard the unmistakable sound of retching, the soft murmur of Urs comforting her, a tap running. In five minutes they came back and Andi apologized. She was very pale and leaned against Urs’s leg, his arm protectively around her shoulders. “I’ve kept this bottled inside me for so long, to think about it now and talk about Peter is hard for me, and then when I start it’s hard to stop. I’m sorry for losing it. What else do you need to know?” “Will he be armed, how many men does he usually travel with. That sort of thing,” Tonu said gently, moved by her distress and her courage. “In Canada his men are usually armed, the laws are easy to get around so they all have handguns. He’s crafty, sly, something he has learned to be because of the trade he’s in. I never saw a weapon other than knives and nunchuks when he caught me in Paris. I doubt that he would know where to get anything here and would definitely not try to bring a gun through customs. I would say at the most three guards plus himself, unless he can hire locals and armed with strength, stealth and possibly some kind of knives. If he’s in his manic mood and you make him angry, he may not act with logic, may become impatient and act rashly. I’ve learned to never give him a chance to plan anything. It’s the only way Selma and I managed to stay alive.” Tonu leaned back in his chair and looked around the small group. Each man in turn nodded assent and he motioned to Urs to go on with his plan. “Then, brother, let’s make him angry. I think your idea will likely flush him out and we can make sure there are no surp-rises. Flip has asked to go to Wellington with you, if you’ll have him. We all have many relatives and friends there and will set up a network as it becomes needed. “Right now I can tell you that my cousin in Customs and Immig-ration says that this man is still in New Zealand, in Auckland right now we think, one of my wife’s sisters is married to a police officer in Auckland.” Urs knew that what he was going to say now would test Andi’s resolve not to argue with him but spoke up. “Saul is arranging media coverage, shouldn’t be hard, the press is always eager for anything they can get on our private lives. We’re going to splash the TV and magazines and papers with lots of photos, footage from the wedding, our plans for the future, shots of our house, that sort of thing. And when we learn he is coming back to Wellington, Andi is going to the ranch, quietly, out of harms way.” As expected her head shot up and she stared at him, her eyes blazing with anger, but she said nothing. “Then it’s settled, tomorrow, early, you go back to Wellington and Flip goes with you. I’ll let my people know you’re coming and the house will be secured before you get there. Keep in touch online. One of the four of us will always be available, 24/7 until this is done.” Tonu rose and at this signal all the others did as well, each coming to Andi to touch brows and noses in the Maori custom, the men gripping arms with Urs in warrior fashion, Tonu the last to leave. He looked in Andi’s eyes for a moment after the traditional farewell, and smiled that gentle slow smile she had become so familiar with the past few days. “Little woman, you have the heart of a warrior but your battle is nearly over. You are family now and it is taboo to mess with our women. Trust your mate. He is a good man.” “I know Tonu, I am not worthy of him but he has accepted the role of my Kaitiaki and I trust him. Thank you for all you have done and are doing now.” She waited until the cars left and returned from the balcony to the easy chair where Urs waited. “I will not go!” “We aren’t going to argue about this Andi. You will go to the ranch if I have to tie you up and have Flip carry you.” “Then the whole deal is off. No publicity, no trap for him. I won’t leave you to face him alone, Urs!” “What whole deal? You want to divorce me already?” He laughed and pulled her to him, trapping her hands when she tried to beat her little hands against his chest. “Behave, woman or I’ll have to punish you! It’s too late to back out now. Saul has already announced our marriage and I don’t plan on letting you go, not for the next 80 or 90 years at least.” He grabbed her chin with his free hand and captured her mouth with his, felt her relax against him and return his kiss. “Andi,” he began when they came up for air. “”If you’re in the house when he comes I’ll be worry-ing that he or his men could get past me and hurt you. Do this my way, Pixie, go to the ranch so I won’t be distract-ed, so I will know you’re safe.” “I’ll think on it. Don’t think just because I love the taste of your mouth you can sway me so easily. It may take a little more convincing than that.” For a long time into the evening hours, Urs worked on convincing her, not sure he succeeded but at least divorce was a subject that failed to come up.