Once in a Lifetime Page 2

  Rangi knit his dark brows together, feeling for Peter. First the rental car and now this. Not the best way to start a holiday. “Are they going to refund your money? I could drive you to another hotel, if you’d like.”

  Peter pushed his glasses down to his nose, his hair sticking up a bit from where they had been smashed up his forehead. He looked back down to his phone, scrolling through the email again.

  “Yeah, I’m getting the money back, but now I’ll have to wait for the deposit to post to my account, then find a whole new place. I just wanted a shower and a nap.” He paused, slumping in the seat and huffing out a humorless laugh. “I just realized how much I sound like a whiny little kid.”

  “No worries, bro.” Rangi reached a hand over and patted Peter on the knee before he even realized he was about to do it. He drew his hand back quickly and cleared his throat, gripping the steering wheel. “You just crossed over like twelve time zones to get here. I’d be straight up agro if I were in your shoes.”

  Just then an idea occurred to Rangi. “I’ve got an extra bed at my place. I live with my folks, but you can rest up there until you get your hotel and rental car business sorted. If you want.”

  Peter looked over at him, his mouth set somewhere between a frown and a smile. Rangi wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I wouldn’t want to impose. Not when tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

  “Think nothing of it, bro. My mum would absolutely love another person to entertain, truly. I will warn you, though, my family can get a bit loud, especially when we all get together in one place.”

  Peter looked down at his phone, tapping the side of it while he seemed to consider Rangi’s offer. Rangi held his breath, waiting.

  After a moment Peter grinned and Rangi’s heart did that little flop again. “You know what? I’m going to say yes. Everything happens for a reason, right?”

  Rangi thrummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, positively chuffed at Peter’s agreement. Being able to help someone in need, especially this time of year, made him feel good. The fact that the person was ridiculously handsome made it all the better. He flipped the turn signal the next street up, heading away from the main thoroughfare where all the hotels and shops were located and toward the small residential village where he lived, excited to be able to spend just a little more time with Peter.

  PETER LOOKED out the window as Rangi drove, stealing little glances at him as he maneuvered the car through a couple turns on their way to his house. He couldn’t quite say why he had said yes to his offer, other than the fact that it felt like all of the things that had happened to him were leading him up to this point. He was a scientific man, a man who, in any other situation, stuck to the playbook and very rarely veered off course. But this vacation seemed to have other ideas in mind. Maybe it was time to live a little, to experience things as they came at him. If the whole reason he had flown halfway across the world was to witness a once-in-a-lifetime event, then he figured he should have some once-in-a-lifetime experiences along the way as well. And if one of those experiences was getting to know Rangi, a true New Zealand native, a little better, he wasn’t about to say no.

  He really couldn’t deny the fact he was attracted to Rangi. How could he not be utterly intrigued by him? He was tall and broad-shouldered, yet graceful and purposeful in his movements, with his short black hair and brown skin and, rounding out the whole look, just a hint of a tattoo peeking out of his collar at the side of his neck. If that weren’t enough, there was the accent. Peter was endlessly fascinated by it. It was lilting with one word flowing almost directly into the next as he spoke and peppered with slang Peter found fascinating. The sound was different than the Australian accents Peter had heard in movies in a subtle way he hadn’t expected. It gave him a quiet thrill just to hear Rangi talk.

  As they drove, Peter noticed more and more houses with Christmas decorations: shimmering garland draped over the beautiful red blooms on flowering trees, inflatable Santas in front yards, wooden nativity scenes. It made him think of the Christmases back home, but he didn’t feel much nostalgia. It was like any other day for him, for the most part. Holidays with his father were cherished memories for Peter that he kept close to his heart, but after his dad’s death, Peter was sent to live with an elderly great aunt, the last of any close relatives. Aunt Gertrude did little more than tolerate him, and since it was just the two of them as Peter neared high school, they never made a big fuss about celebrating, even with his birthday falling on the day before Christmas.

  Because his father’s love of the cosmos had rubbed off on him from a young age, Peter had gone straight into astronomy and physics courses as soon as he’d hit college, striving relentlessly for his doctorate. And then after, as a professor, he’d found teaching hadn’t given him much time for the holidays either, but by that point, he’d been used to it. He wondered what it would be like, staying with a big family before he found a new hotel as they got ready for the holiday festivities.

  He didn’t have to wonder long, though, as Rangi pulled to the grassy shoulder in front of a wooden fence. There was a gray gravel driveway packed with a handful of cars and SUVs that led to the side of a single-story tan-colored house behind the fence. More of those red-flowered trees lined a sidewalk that curved through the yard to the front door. It seemed like a cozy, welcoming place.

  Peter stood at the back of Rangi’s car with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder after he’d gotten out, waiting for Rangi to open the trunk so he could grab his luggage. He blinked as the sun beat down on him, edging closer to exhaustion.

  Rangi unlocked the truck, then rested a hand on the silver metal, looking like he was about to say something but trying to find the words. He turned toward Peter, and Peter looked up at him expectantly.

  “I know you won’t be staying long, but before I take you inside, I need to tell you a little about Māori culture. My culture.”

  Peter smiled, charmed. “Are you trying to give me some sort of warning?”

  Rangi dipped his gaze down with a chuckle, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Nah, nothing as serious as that, though my family can be a bit crazy. Just wanted to prepare you, is all.”

  “Lay it on me,” Peter said.

  Rangi stepped closer to him, shielding him from the blinding sun with his tall frame so Peter could look at him without squinting. There was only a handbreadth of space between them, and Peter flushed even warmer in the summer heat. His hands hung limply at his sides, and he subconsciously held his breath in anticipation.

  “When you enter my mum’s house as my guest, she will consider you no longer a visitor, a manuhiri. You will be tangata whenua and she will want to greet you with a hongi. I want to show you what to expect so you’re not caught off guard.”

  “Okay,” Peter agreed with a nod, thankful for Rangi’s foresight because he definitely did not want to embarrass himself in front of Rangi’s family.

  Rangi shifted closer, making Peter’s pulse jump. “The hongi is a traditional Māori greeting. It is the sharing of the breath of life, an intermingling of souls, that brings us closer to each other and closer to the mauri of the land.”

  He gently clasped Peter’s right hand in his own like they were about to have a handshake, but then he placed his other hand on Peter’s shoulder and drew him in. Rangi tilted his head down until they were pressed forehead to forehead and nose to nose, then pulled in a deep breath. Peter closed his eyes and did the same, following Rangi’s lead, inhaling long and slow.

  There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, and he was immediately struck by how intimate and sacred it felt, breathing in the same air as Rangi, being in such quiet proximity to him; they were connected in a way Peter hadn’t experienced with anyone else before. Gooseflesh went up his arms at the significance of it all. Everything settled into silence around them, and Peter tried to hold on to it as long as he could.

  All too soon, though, Rangi was pulling back. Peter opened his eyes slowly, meeting his gaze,
and saw they were still only inches apart. The look of wonder on Rangi’s face mirrored the feeling deep in Peter’s chest. He knew then Rangi had experienced what he had.

  Rangi pushed his tongue past his lips to wet them, and Peter thought for a second that Rangi was about to kiss him. There was a pinch of disappointment in his gut when Rangi instead took a step back, letting his hand fall away from Peter’s shoulder. Peter stood a bit dazed by what had transpired between them.

  “We—we should get inside so I can introduce you to my family,” Rangi said after clearing his throat. He opened the trunk and handed one of Peter’s suitcases to him and took the other in his grip while scooping two boxes of bottled honey up under his free arm.

  Peter closed the trunk, then followed behind him toward the house, a tingle of awe still lingering just behind his rib cage.

  “Can you get my keys out of my pocket?” Rangi asked as they came to a stop at the front door. He gestured with a nudge of his chin to his shorts and shrugged his shoulders to show his full hands. “Didn’t really plan that one out too well, did I?”

  Peter grinned and fished the keys out of Rangi’s front pocket with a wink. “Or maybe you did.”

  Rangi chuckled and the apples of his cheeks darkened with a blush. Peter turned back to the door with the flirty smile still on his face, but the door flew open before he could even ask Rangi which key to use on the lock. A woman with wavy black hair stood at the threshold looking every bit as surprised as he was. She was about eye level with Peter and appeared to have just a few years on Rangi but the same warm brown eyes. He guessed her to be his older sister. Her gaze was bright with curiosity as it flicked between Peter, Rangi, and the luggage in their hands.

  “I was just heading down to the dairy for more eggs. Need anything?” She stepped out the door and to the side so Peter could enter the house. The scent of fresh-baked bread and cookies wafted out through the open door, making Peter’s mouth water.

  “Yeah, nah, I’m all good. Thanks, though.” Rangi shook his head and walked forward.

  Peter took the hint and stepped in the house ahead of him after the woman walked out onto the front porch. Two children, one girl and one boy, ran toward him when he got inside, squealing in delight as they chased each other through the living room, nearly knocking over an artificial Christmas tree in the corner. Three guys were sitting on a couch, intently watching a rugby match blaring on a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, too absorbed in the game to pay much attention to anything around them. The little girl got to Peter first and hid behind his legs, then took off again with a giggle when the boy came behind Peter, too, and tried to tag her.

  “My niece and nephew,” Rangi explained with a warm look of love on his face. “My sister lives here with them in the basement.” He squeezed past Peter in the entryway and made a left turn into an open kitchen.

  There was a big island in the middle of the room, covered with baking racks filled with cookies and loaves of bread cooling in the breeze flowing through the open windows. Bright, natural light bounced off the white cabinets, yellow walls, and teal trim, giving the whole area a cheery, summery feel. An older man sat on a stool, peeling potatoes, and beside him stood a woman wearing an apron, her hands covered in flour as she kneaded a ball of dough.

  “Maia! Kai! Stop running in the house!” she said without looking up.

  It wasn’t until Rangi set the box of honey on the counter near the sink that she noticed there was someone else in the room. She saw Peter first, standing awkwardly beside Rangi with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder and his rolling suitcase in his hand.

  “Kia Ora, son. Thank you for bringing the honey,” she said with a smile, wiping the dough and flour onto her apron and walking around the island. “Who is this?”

  “This is Peter. He’s visiting from America. He needed a place to crash for the night while his hotel gets sorted,” Rangi replied, giving his mother a kiss on her cheek.

  Peter set his bags down, ready for the hongi as Rangi had shown him. “Kia Ora.” Peter tried out the native lingo.

  Rangi’s mom smiled sweetly and extended her hand, then pulled Peter in. They brushed noses, and Peter pulled in a deep breath. It was over quicker than the hongi he had shared with Rangi, but no less solemn. He did the same with Rangi’s father, who still sat on the stool. Peter had to bend forward a little to reach, but the man smiled and patted his shoulder before he pulled back.

  “Peter from America, what brings you to Lake Tekapo this time of year?” Rangi’s mom asked, walking back to her dough.

  Peter scooped up his bags from the floor. “I’m here to observe a comet that’s passing overhead. It only comes around every thirty-eight years, and it won’t be back until Christmas Eve in 2056 on my seventy-sixth birthday. The Mackenzie International Dark Sky reserve here is the best place in the world to view it.”

  Rangi looked stunned beside him. “Straight up, bro? Your birthday is tomorrow?”

  Peter shifted the bag on his shoulder and shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t usually make a big deal about it, though. My birthday just happens to be on the day I get to finally see my comet—that’s what I’m really excited about.”

  “Well, we might just have to do something special for you before you journey off,” Rangi’s mom said.

  “You really don’t have to,” Peter replied, feeling a little bashful. He didn’t particularly like people making a fuss over him or being the center of attention—he wasn’t used to it.

  Rangi must have noticed his unease because he led him out of the kitchen with a guiding hand at the small of his back. “I’m going to show Peter to my room so he can get some shut-eye. He’s had a long flight.”

  Rangi’s mom waved them away with a smile, then plunged her hands back into the dough ball before her.

  They walked back through the living room and past the cheering rugby fans on the couch—Rangi’s younger brothers, he explained—then down a hallway that led to a tiny laundry room. A door at the back of this room opened to a sizable backyard, with green grass interspersed with yellow patches thirsting for summer rain. A firepit sat off to one side on a brick patio, and beside that was a small modest house tucked at the end of the yard. It was far enough away from the main home to be private but still close enough to the family unit inside—a detached mother-in-law suite of sorts.

  “This is the granny flat Mum and Dad let me stay in when I came back from uni. There’s an extra bed in the sleeper sofa in here. It’s got a toilet and shower, too, if you need.”

  Peter let out a quiet sigh of relief. He was eternally grateful to Rangi for giving him a place to stay the night and doubly glad it was a quiet room where he could rest and recharge his batteries before the big day tomorrow. Following Rangi inside the little apartment, he was struck by how even more connected he felt to the man just by being in a place that belonged solely to him. The small studio was lived-in, but clean and organized with crisp white walls that lent a coolness to the house despite the heat outside.

  Slate-colored drapes fluttered when a cross breeze drifted through as Peter set his bags down on a beige two-person sofa. The house occupied the single room with a tiny galley kitchen in one corner, complete with a miniature artificial Christmas tree on the countertop. The sitting area was in the other, and Rangi’s bed and nightstand was on the opposite end. An open door a few steps from the bed led to a modest bathroom. It was quaint yet very efficient.

  Traditional Māori artwork and framed photographs hanging throughout the small space caught Peter’s attention as he looked at his surroundings. Many of the pictures were landscape shots: the grand mountain range around Lake Tekapo, the lake itself, a lovely stone church. Most of the photos, though, were of Rangi’s family. There were candids of them laughing, portraits with autumn leaves shimmering in the background, an action shot of a huge snowball fight in the front yard. It was a big family, full of love, and the photographs highlighted it beautifully. It was the kind of family Peter had longed for
as a kid but lost sight of after his father’s death.

  “These are gorgeous,” Peter remarked, gliding a fingertip over the wooden frame of a sunset scene. “You’re very talented. Do you photograph professionally?”

  “I wish I had time to,” Rangi said with a chuckle. He was opening a linen closet next to the bathroom and pulling out sheets, pillows, and towels. “I’ve already got three jobs on my plate, including driving for the ride share. My schedule’s a bit too chocka block for things like that at the moment.”

  “My ride from Fairlie…,” Peter began, suddenly realizing. He started reaching for his wallet in his back pocket when Rangi stopped him.

  “Nah, bro, no worries. I was heading this way anyhow. And after what you’ve been through today, we’ll call it good.”

  Peter frowned but let his wallet stay put. He was definitely not going to take no for an answer tomorrow when he paid Rangi for the place to stay at least. He’d never met anyone who had been so kind and selfless, and they’d known each other less than an hour. Peter thought about tomorrow and having to find a new hotel room and a rental car. It was a hassle he was not exactly looking forward to. And, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t looking forward to leaving without getting to know Rangi a little better either. But Peter didn’t want to impose, especially at Christmastime.

  Rangi came over to the sofa and set the linens down. Peter moved his bags to the floor, and they both went about the task of moving the coffee table aside, pulling the sleeper out of the couch, and making the bed. It was so simple and domestic, Peter couldn’t help but smile.

  He glanced at Rangi as he fluffed a couple pillows. The setting sun was filtering golden light through the windows, and it hit his hair just right, bringing out chestnut undertones in the black, which Peter hadn’t noticed before. He dropped his gaze to the hint of the tattoo peeking out of Rangi’s collar. There was a sharp point of the design going up his neck a few inches from the shirt with two curls of negative space with no ink. It looked geometrically precise and tribal. Peter wondered what the significance of it was. He also wondered how far the tattoo went under the shirt. Did it go down his back? Over the planes of his chest? Lower?