CHAPTER 33

The Napier regional airport is small, and this being my first flight in two years, I needed to gird my loins for the long-haul transpacific one back to California.

Hana parked her Subaru in visitor parking and helped me with my luggage into the airport.

When we got inside the terminal, she said to me, “You’ve got everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Passport?”

I patted my electronics bag. “Right here.”

“Laptop? Phone?”

“Yep.”

“And Max.”

I squatted down and inserted a finger through the wire mesh door, and Max rubbed his nose against it. I flashed on my past flying issues—a deplaning due to a panic attack; leaving airports before boarding . . . “Yeah, I’ve got Max. I don’t know if I could get on the plane without my little guy.” I locked eyes with her, and we stared into each other’s for the longest time. “Thank you, Hana, for everything.”

“It’s good.”

“I’m sorry the book tour was, well, if not a failure, interesting.”

“It was interesting.”

“And sorry to have unloaded all that stuff about finding out I had a daughter on you.”

She shook her head, and her dark curly locks tumbled over her shoulders. “It’s okay. You had to tell somebody to get perspective.” She paused. “And I’m glad you’re going back to meet her.”

I nodded, still ambivalent, but my mind made up. I bent down and picked up Max by the carrier handle, stood there in front of my young Māori publicist—the same age as my daughter!—and wished it all could have been different. “I guess this is it.”

“Yeah,” Hana said. “You should have plenty of time for your layover in Auckland.”

An announcement blared over the loudspeaker, something about my flight to Auckland being on time and beginning early boarding.

“You’d better go,” she said.

I nodded, not moving. Blinking back tears, I said, “Is it okay if I give you a hug?”

Hana raised her tattooed arms to horizontal and looked at me with beseeching dark-brown eyes. “Of course, Miles. Of course.”

I set Max down and we came together in an awkward but feeling embrace. She held me tightly, wanting to communicate something ineffable. I whispered into her ear, “I would never have made it this far without you. And that’s the God’s truth.” I could feel her hug me tighter, reassuring me the compliment wasn’t necessary, but appreciating nonetheless.

We disengaged. Her hands clung to my forearms. I reached for Max’s carrier handle, our eyes never unlocking, hers watery with tears, mine blurring with hers.

“God, I’ll miss you, Hana.”