“Hemi Ranapia leant against the rail on the upper deck of the car ferry that had left Opua a few minutes earlier and would be in Okiato in a few more. He wasn’t looking at the placid waters of the Bay of Islands with his mates, though, or paying attention to their desultory conversation about the fishing trip they had planned for the next day. He was watching the girl. Because he’d met her before. He’d done more than meet her, and he remembered it pretty well. That part would have been a goo...d memory. That part was a good memory. The part that was worrying him was the baby. She hadn’t noticed him yet. She was walking on the opposite side of the ferry’s top deck, holding the crying baby, talking or singing to it, he couldn’t tell. She was moving in his direction, every step a swaying bounce to calm the fussing infant, and one part of him wanted to go below, but the other part kept him rooted, waiting for her to recognize him. He saw the moment she did, the moment her large, liquid brown eyes met his own, the moment her feet stopped moving.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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