17 ~ Steffi

Geoff, the real estate agent, takes us into his office. Noah’s almost pulsing with nervous energy and I’m surprised the agent doesn’t get a belt of static shock when they shake hands.

“I remember your father,” Geoff says.

“He leaves a lasting impression,” Noah replies.

“Right.”

Geoff hands over a bunch of papers detailing the property. I watch Noah’s face as he reads through them, trying to get an inkling about whether it’s a workable deal or not.

“The land is freehold?”

“Yes, it is. The bank will probably negotiate on the price, but nothing too ridiculous. A couple of parties have tried to get it for next to nothing. But the bank wants something out of it.”

“Draw up a sale agreement,” Noah says.

“You don’t want to go and look at it?” the agent asks.

“I think I know it pretty well, but I’d like to go up there today.” Noah squeezes my hand beneath the level of Geoff’s desk.

“Sure. I have some free time this afternoon. I can take you up there.”

“It’s okay, we just want to look around.”

“That should be fine, but I can’t give you a key to the house unless I accompany you.”

“No problem,” Noah says. “I doubt the house has done much more than decay since the old man died. We just want to walk around, check the boundary fences and such. Put the usual conditions in the agreement and I’ll have a lawyer look it over tomorrow. Offer three-fifty.”

Geoff smiles. He’s obviously confident the bank will accept that offer. “Is that subject to finance?”

“That’s cash. But I want to do due diligence on the land. Make sure there’s not a massive subdivision going in next door, or a mining company starting drilling over the back. You’d know about that. Heard any rumors?”

Geoff holds up his hands. “Not a thing. It’s all quiet up there as far as I know. Land’s so steep you’d have to be a mountain goat to want to live up there. Sorry. Obviously you’re not goats. What I meant—”

“We feel its remoteness is part of the appeal.”

Geoff looks as if he wants to tell us we’re crazy, but he has a commission riding on the fact he’s good at assuring Noah he won’t regret his decision to buy a piece of a steep-sided mountain that can’t support much more than a couple of goats and a few rabbits.

As we leave Geoff’s office, Noah’s words are banging about in my head. He said “we” when he talked about the deal. We. Inclusive. Together. I’m sure it was a slip of the tongue, a figure of speech, not a lifelong commitment.

I can’t believe I’m having these thoughts!

I drag Noah along the road, telling him we need a few supplies for the day. “Food, drink, a board game and a pack of cards in case it rains,” I tease.

He laughs. “I’m so keen to get back up there, I wasn’t thinking. We need good food, Steffi. I want champagne to celebrate, but I don’t want to jinx the deal.”

“Are you superstitious, Doctor?”

“I’m prepared to do anything to make sure that deal goes through.”

“I’m getting some ideas.”

“Do they involve sex? I might have to fuck you in the wilderness for luck.” He takes my hand and it’s a while before I realize we’re walking through central Queenstown holding hands in full view of everyone, and what that could mean. I tug my hand out of his grip.

“I have heard that sex in the wilderness is tremendously lucky. Goddesses in the heavens look upon it with much favor. However, holding hands in the middle of town in full view of everyone is probably not so lucky.”

“You’re right. Damn. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.”

“I wish it was. I hate sneaking around.”

“So do I. Don’t worry, it won’t be for long.”

I want to stop him right there and kiss him.

Once we park Mabel off the road by the broken gate, we gear up for our excursion. We lace ourselves into hiking boots, check hats and scarves, jackets, an extra layer for each of us tucked into the pack. We know the area well, but we also know how fast the weather can change. Our first stop is Noah’s old home.

Yesterday when we were up here, his body language screamed tension. Today, his stride and shoulders are loose. He pokes a pen knife into a window frame.

“The hut might look fit for demolition, but there’s no rot in this timber.”

“What are your plans for this place?”

He watches me for a couple of beats. “Restore and renovate, for starters. I’d like to get it habitable as quickly as possible. Then I want to excavate into the mountainside and build a house that’s part cave. Not big. I don’t like big. Something cozy where winter will still feel like you’re living outdoors. Then, maybe another hut like this one. They can interconnect through covered pathways. Live in the cave part, and have the other huts as guest houses. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds fantastic. You’ll have your very own man cave,” I tease.

He tackles me to the ground, and straddles my hips. “That man cave will be very useful come winter. We can hibernate in there when the snow falls.”

There it is. That we word again. He’s smiling, looking so happy.

“You said ‘we’,” I whisper.

“I meant it. You said yesterday you’d happily live up here. I want you here with me.”

“I think my heart just burst.”

He leans in and I feel his lips brush against the shell of my ear as he speaks. “Don’t worry, I can fix that. I’m a doctor.”

I smack his chest. “How often have you used that cheesy line?”

“Been waiting my whole life to use it on you.” He kisses my neck, then my mouth. My body heats up fast and my fingers find the zipper on his jacket, but he clasps them in his and moves them away.

“Not here,” he says. “Not yet. We’ll christen this place once my name’s on the title.” He swings off me and pulls me to my feet. “You promised you’d show me something I’ve never seen.”

“Honestly, Noah, I think you’ve seen every inch of me,” I smile.

“Steffi.”

“Oh, right. That. The wall of stars. Let’s go.”

Not far beyond the hut, the track becomes steep. We’re hampered for a while with our clothes constantly catching on the thorny matagouri bushes. Noah is crouched, freeing my jeans from a clump I tried to push through and failed.

“I’m glad these are still up here. Matagouri is disappearing from a lot of places. They’re eradicated to improve pasture, and have to fight the gorse and broom. Even these small bushes could be over a hundred years old.”

“And here I was going to suggest you take them out to clear the path.”

“There you go, all free,” he says, standing. “We don’t need to take them out. If a certain person wasn’t in such a hurry, she’d learn to go around them instead of trying to bulldoze her way through. The wilding pines, though, are a different matter. I’m waging war on those things.”

It takes forty minutes to reach the upper boundary of the property and cross over into conservation land. The bush has changed to a mixture of beech and pines. I look around and laugh. It’s a while since I’ve been up here, and I’ve never approached the track from this direction.

“We need to link into the Snare Track,” I say, hoping for a hint.

“Lead on, Guide Steffi.”

“This way, do you think?”

“Where’s your map?”

“I don’t have one.” Stupid mistake. I thought I’d recognize the way once we reached the edge of the property. I pull out my phone. “I’ll grab a map… Oh. No signal.”

“How long have you lived in the mountains?”

“Noah, that’s not helpful.”

“I hope you don’t usually hike by guesswork.”

I cover my mouth to hide my smile. By the tone of his voice and the look on his face, he appears to be telling me off. “It’s okay. I know my way around.”

“People die getting lost in these mountains.”

“Yes, Noah.”

“You’ll find the Snare is up this way,” he says, pointing slightly more east than the direction I’d suggested.

“I was close. If we’d continued, we’d have come across it—”

He takes hold of my ponytail, turning me to him so our foreheads touch. “I don’t want you ever taking stupid risks up here. Understand?”

“Yes,” I say. “Will you kiss me now?” He does. Passionately.

“You distract me,” he says when the kiss ends. “That’s enough of a risk for both of us.”

“Got it. Maybe you can lead us to the Snare.”

We find the track quickly, but it’s tough work at the start. Trees have come down in one of the many recent storms and we have to detour a couple of times. At last the terrain becomes familiar. Time means nothing. We’re completely alone, surrounded by mountains, the lake now out of view. Noah continues talking about his plans for the hut, working out how he can make it habitable in the shortest possible time.

I stop Noah when I see my track marker. It always amazes me how much can change up here after one storm. A massive slip, fallen trees, the path of a river shifting dramatically because of something that’s occurred further up the mountain. And, paradoxically, how little changes. Years ago, I built a small rock cairn in a beehive shape to mark the turnoff to the wall of stars, and it’s still here, unmoved by nature and all the chaos that has taken place around it.

“This way,” I tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m ignoring that comment.”

I know the way from here. Every turn and landscape feature is imprinted in my head. I take hold of Noah’s arm when we’re almost there.

“I should tell you to close your eyes, but that’s kind of dangerous in this terrain.”

“Thank you for finally considering my safety,” he teases.

“So, here we go.”

A few steps around the next twist in the track and we’re confronted by a sheer rock face covered with tiny ferns, mosses, little flowers like miniature stars. Over the entire face that stretches high above us and on to an area impossible to traverse, tiny droplets of water trickle down like individual beads. The sunlight catches them, making them sparkle against the shiny black surface of the rock.

“Wow,” Noah says.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“It’s stunning. I don’t know how I missed it as a kid. I thought I knew this area better than anyone.”

“I know. If I hadn’t followed the dog in here, I’d never have found it.”

“I love it,” he says, walking along, trailing his fingers through the drips. He takes them to his mouth. “The water tastes nearly as sweet as you.”

His words make my insides tremble. The fact that he gets this place makes him almost too perfect. I never thought I’d find a guy who saw beauty in the same things as me.

“I’m famished,” he says, rolling the backpack off his shoulders.

We eat, talk and make plans as if all the opposition to a relationship between us, like Cam, and my parents, and the fact that we’re going to be working together in a place where a no-fraternization policy is included in our contracts, doesn’t exist. After lunch, we make love, slowly, without a single care.

After, I drift off to sleep. I don’t know how long I doze, but at some stage, with sunlight filtering through the trees to the west, Noah wakes me with kisses. He helps me dress and we head back to the hut. On the Snare Track, he asks me when I last came up on my bike.

“Twice in summer. You can’t ride the entire way up here, but the start is exhilarating.”

“I want to tell you not to,” he says. “The track’s not in a good state. Would you listen if I asked you to stick to the safer properly maintained trails?”

“I’m always careful,” I promise him.