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The gunshot wound left a dip in the muscle on either side of Wiri’s left thigh when it healed. And a limp which embarrassed him, though few others noticed. Phoenix returned home with her parents and he remained at the vicarage with Larry. As autumn released its grasp on the mountain to the bite of winter, he learned to live with his own choices. And find peace with those made by other people. With the burgeoning spring came hope that he’d make better ones in the future.
Wiri pursed his lips and stared at the battered brown envelope in his left hand. His scarred middle finger refused to bend around it. Hammering on the bathroom door told him Larry had woken late for Matins again. “Get a move on, Du Rose!” he wailed through the keyhole. “I need to shave before I meet the dragons of the parish. They don’t appreciate hairy vicars!”
Wiri flicked the lock and stood aside as Larry blasted through the gap. “Morning!” he called, his tone bright as his dog collared flatmate slammed the door in his face. He lifted his right hand and wiped toothpaste residue from around his lips, and returned to his bedroom to neaten his bedding. The envelope tumbled to the rug, and he stared at it nestled against the tufted wool. He debated just leaving it there and forgetting about it for a while.
Water sloshed in the bathroom as Larry shaved. The vicar tumbled through life in a perpetual state of chaos which Wiri struggled to endure. But the man possessed qualities he hoped to emulate. He’d accepted the mantle of responsibility from Logan, though the latter proved loath to relinquish it entirely. Eight months of living with Larry had taught Wiri much about cohabiting with relative strangers and making it work through compromise.
The bathroom door flew open hard enough to hit the wall behind it. Larry scurried into the hallway, pausing to peer at Wiri. “Why are you just standing there?” he demanded. “Isn’t Leilah expecting you at the cafe?”
Wiri checked his watch and wrinkled his nose. “Yes. In twenty minutes. Then I’m leading a trek onto the mountain. I might be home late tonight. It depends what time we finish settling the horses.”
“Is Leilah hosting another group at Hector’s place?” Larry raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” Wiri sighed and frowned at the envelope. “It’s her new package deal idea. She wants to use the property to make money now Jet’s moved up to Hamilton. The guests get the house for the weekend, a riding lesson on the Saturday and a trail ride on Sunday. They can muck around on the farm in between times.”
Larry crinkled his nose. “Rather you than me having to ride on the mountain.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “The weather forecast is good for today, though. It’s fresh but clear.” His gaze fell on the envelope and he cocked his head. “Didn’t that arrive in Friday’s post?”
“Yeah.” Wiri sighed and touched it with the toe of his sock. “I’m not ready to face it yet.”
Larry waggled his bushy grey eyebrows and straightened his cassock. “We’re never ready for the important things, my friend,” he said. He flicked a fingernail across a ketchup stain over his stomach and groaned. “See you later.” His shoes squeaked against the stripped and freshly varnished floorboards of the hallway. The front door slammed and his footsteps continued across the deck and over the low wall surrounding the church.
It had surprised Wiri to learn that Larry owned the villa. He’d assumed it came as a tithe house with the role of vicar. But he’d enjoyed helping with the renovations, although it also highlighted another career he’d rather not pursue. He picked up the envelope, folded it, and stuffed it into his back pocket, putting off the inevitable disappointment until later.
A watery sunshine dappled the pavement as Wiri walked along the main street. Spring nipped at the frayed edges of winter, bringing the promise of freshness and new life. A crowd gathered outside the cafe’s front door, farmers grunting at one another clad in weatherproof jackets and gumboots. Wiri turned left down an alley before the florist and skirted the rear of the buildings. He entered the cafe through its rear door.
“Hi, love.” Leilah threw a clean apron at him before he could speak. She jerked her chin towards the shop. “The coffee machine is already heating.” Her movements appeared frantic as she whisked eggs in a wide bowl. Wiri took a step towards the archway leading to the counter and halted.
“No.” He backed away, his head already shaking.
Leilah swallowed and her irises danced with anxiety. She set the bowl on the centre island. “She’s my daughter!” she protested. “You don’t need to interact with her.”
“Nice.” Seline’s lips drew into a thin line as she stepped beneath the arch and leaned against the chiller door. “Hello, Wiremu.”
“Stop it!” Leilah’s tone held more bite than usual and Seline blinked. “You owe Wiri an apology.” Leilah raised the whisk and pointed it at her daughter. Egg mixed with milk dripped into the bowl.
“Sorry.”
Wiri detected no hint of sincerity in Seline’s utterance. It held no other purpose than placating her mother. He snorted and narrowed his eyes. His spine twinged as though to advocate mercy for her. She had, after all, brought him rescue from the water tank. “What are you sorry about?” He folded his arms and observed her. Discomfort sent a flush of colour from her chest into her neck. Her gaze flicked to Leilah and, finding no sympathy there, back to Wiri.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry for planting your shirt in the tank with the man who died.” She twisted her lips, but her eyes glinted with devilment. Her left hand strayed to a red curl next to her shirt buttons as though she attempted to draw Wiri’s attention to something more entertaining. She hinted at her thwarted seduction of him with every subtle movement. But she wouldn’t apologise. Her tongue slipped free to run across her lower lip. “I assumed my father took a hit out on the dead man because he’d harassed me. Vaughan owed him money and so Hendricks thought that gave him leverage over me.” Her jaw slid sideways to produce a sardonic smile. “In order for that to happen, I’d have to care about the debtor, wouldn’t I?”
Wiri heard Leilah give a hiss of impatience behind him. Seline didn’t miss a beat. “Anyway, I tried to steer the cops away from the same conclusion.” She released a throaty chuckle. “Turns out people have less power in prison than Dad made me believe.”
Leilah tutted. The heavy exhale through her nose conveyed her irritation. “Well, your step-father won’t be trying it again,” she concluded, her tone harsh. She emphasised the label as though it pained her. “Because Seline’s promised not to visit the prison or take his calls anymore.”
Seline’s irises glittered like diamonds. Wiri pitied Leilah her blind faith. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she regarded him like a spider imagining the devouring of a mate. “Anything else?” she demanded, fixing an expression of feigned innocence over her face.
Wiri didn’t dignify her charade with a reply. A thud against the front door indicated the caffeine addicts grew restless in the street. He blew out an exasperated breath and balled the apron in his right hand. “Fine!” He turned to stare at Leilah. “But keep her away from me.”
“Thank you.” Her smile revealed the first genuine emotion of the encounter. Gratitude caused her shoulders to relax. She lifted an eyebrow at Seline. “She’ll stay out of your way.”
“Whatever.” Seline picked at a cuticle as Wiri fixed the apron around his waist and tied it behind him. Leilah ran out to her vehicle to retrieve a crate of homegrown vegetables and the rear door slammed closed.
Wiri side stepped Seline on his route through the archway, jerking in shock as her hand slid into his back pocket. “Love letters?” she purred into his ear. She slipped the folded envelope free, her sensuous touch through the coarse fabric of his jeans sending tingles shooting into his stomach. “How is your wee schoolgirl?” She smiled to show her upper teeth as she affected a baby voice. “Did the little child break up with poor Wiremu?” Her fingers closed around the corded muscle of his forearm in an unwanted teasing, stroking action. Lust rose from her in a haze, ugly and misplaced.
Wiri’s left arm twisted beneath her grasp, and Seline found her wrist pinned between his strong fingers. The envelope fluttered to the tiled floor, forgotten. It took every fibre of Wiri’s being not to press the fragile bones until they broke. Hana wouldn’t approve. It wasn’t how she’d raised him. He leaned forward, his lips curling into a sneer as he delivered his message. “Never touch me again,” he whispered. “You’re poisonous. And one day, you’ll bite off more than you can chew.” He clicked the fingers of his right hand. “I wouldn’t screw you, even if my life depended on it.” He dropped his arm and stepped away from her. She ran her fingers across her wrist as though surprised at his restraint. He realised in that moment that she’d wanted more violence. Expected it. Disappointment flashed in her eyes.
“I’ll tell Mum’s good friend, Tane, what just happened,” she hissed.
Wiri’s laughter made her jump. He retrieved the envelope from the floor and stuffed it into his front pocket. “You do that,” he replied, standing up straight. “But I think he’s sick of clearing up your mess.” He stepped beneath the archway and approached the coffee machine, his mind already switching to the complaints from beyond the front door. “Oh.” He turned back with mischief in his eyes. Seline’s jaw gritted, forcing her teeth to meet in an attractive overbite. Wiri wagged his index finger. “Next time you visit the prison, ask Michael Hanover how he got the black eye and broken ribs a few months ago.” Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened. She took a step towards him.
“How do you know about that?” Urgency entered her tone. “Did you get someone to beat up my dad? Who do you know in the prison?”
Wiri narrowed his eyes and ignored her questions. His lips slid into a satisfied smile as Leilah squeezed past him to unlock the front door.
