Song of the Spirits (14 page)

She found an opportunity to do so the following evening. Helen had arranged a music recital at her hotel. There were a few classical music lovers on the surrounding farms who played the violin, viola, and bass. They liked to come to Queenstown from time to time to play music together and then spend the night at Helen’s hotel. Elaine had always played the piano at these concerts. This time, however, it was
Kura who played. Elaine had not dared to play an instrument in her cousin’s presence for some time now.

The O’Keefes would also be staying in town that night, as the weather made the long trip back out to Nugget Manor too troublesome. Elaine and William snuck outside after the concert for a few stolen tender moments while the others sat relaxing with a glass of wine. However, Elaine had a feeling the whole time that William had only reluctantly left Kura behind in her circle of admirers. Her cousin was positively holding court: there was no end to the compliments on her musical talent or her beauty. Is William really thinking of me, Elaine wondered, as he pulled her close and kissed her? Or was he imagining that he was holding Kura in his arms?

“Do you still care for me?” The words burst out of her when he finally let go of her. “I mean, really care? Are you… are you still in love with me?”

William gave her a friendly look. “You little fool! Would I be here if I wasn’t?”

That was precisely what Elaine wanted to know. But he had just offended her again by calling her a “fool.”

“Seriously, William. Do you think Kura is prettier than I am?” Elaine hoped her question did not sound like begging.

William shook his head and appeared almost annoyed.

“Lainie, the difference between you and Kura is that she would never ask me such a thing!” With that, he left her standing there and walked back into the house. Did he feel insulted? Because she had suspected him of having feelings he did not? Or was it, rather, because he did not want to look her in the face?

Kura, standing behind a curtain, had observed the entire scene. She saw William kiss Elaine. She had already suspected something between them, but until then had never seen anything. Kura was not angry, however. If William kissed this girl, then surely he was only doing so to get by. Men needed girls. That, too, she had learned from the Maori. When they went a long time without lying with a woman, they became unbearable. But William deserved better. He was a gentleman. Very carefully, Kura would teach him to understand
that even the pulse of the earth had a melody—and that it was more beautiful to explore it with someone who could hear it.

In June, Ruben O’Keefe and his family received a strange invitation. The Swedes in the gold-mining camps were celebrating Midsummer—completely disregarding the fact that the twenty-first of June in New Zealand was not the longest day of the year but the shortest and that, flowers were not blooming in the meadows but on windows in the form of ice crystals. A small detail like that did not, however, deter the rough men of the north. Beer and liquor tasted good in this hemisphere too, fires were blazing, and dancing warmed you up—it would just be a bit harder to pick flowers. But that was the girls’ job anyway; the men could do without. To ensure that there were plenty of girls, the gold miners sent invitations to Daphne and her crew.

“The easier the girls, the easier it will be for them to jump over the fire with us!” said Søren, one of the unusual festival’s organizers. “But there’s no need to worry about bringing your daughter, Mr. O’Keefe. We know a lady when we see one!”

Fleurette thought it sounded like fun. She had read about Midsummer customs and wanted, if nothing else, to dance through the Saint John’s fire. Ruben would have accepted the invitation anyway since the gold miners were among his best customers. Helen, however, refused to go.

“It will be too cold for my old bones. Let the children dance. Gwyn, we’ll have a pleasant evening to ourselves. Daphne can come too, if she likes.”

Daphne, however, shook her head and laughed. “Nahhh, Helen. I have to go and keep an eye on my girls,” she explained. “So that they don’t give themselves to the boys for free, and, who knows, bring a little Swede home in their bellies! It’s supposed to be a fertility ritual, jumping through the fire and all, isn’t that right? You have to watch out for those.”

While Elaine was looking forward to the festival, Kura had mixed feelings. Once again, there would be awfully coarse men and a band that would play every second note off-key; she would freeze and everybody would talk about stupid things. But William would be there, and there would be dancing. There might even be proper dancing, not that hopping around that passed for dancing at the church picnic. Kura had learned to dance—waltzes and the like—from Miss Witherspoon. It would be wonderful to sway with William to real music, to rest in his arms and let herself be carried by the rhythm… Kura felt a gentle regret that she did not have a ball gown. But the O’Keefes would have laughed at her anyway, as everyone would be wearing their warmest clothes that night.

The girls at the festival grounds wrapped themselves tight, shivering in coats and shawls. One or two of the Swedish women wore traditional clothing. The scenery had a surreal quality to it, for it had long since grown dark and the moon hung high above the snowy mountains. The girls danced around the midsummer pole, their brightly decorated red hats lit up by the fire. The men did their best to see that no one got too cold. Liquor and beer, as well as mulled wine for the women, flowed freely, creating inner heat. Already rather tipsy, Daphne’s little group was flirting with the gold miners. And once the two Swedish women had explained the dance around the midsummer pole to them, the girls got themselves tangled up in the brightly colored ribbons.

Though Elaine surveyed the scene with interest, Kura seemed to be disgusted. Both of them had started off with wine, but as they began to get cold, they grew to appreciate the warm drink, which quickly caused them to forget their reserve. Elaine suddenly decided to join the dancers, and ended up twirling around the midsummer pole and laughing, hand in hand with a towheaded, blue-eyed girl named Inger. Then Inger came up to her and Kura and held a couple of withered plants out to them.

“Here, you don’t have any flowers yet!” Inger spoke with a funny accent. “But that’s part of Midsummer. A girl has to gather seven different kinds of flowers and lay them under her pillow on Saint John’s eve. Then she’ll dream of the man she’s going to marry.”

Elaine took the rather sad bouquet Inger was offering and thanked her. Kura, however, hardly looked at hers. She was once again morose and bored. William was chatting with Ruben and a few gold miners on the other side of the fire, and Elaine had long since stopped trying to talk to her.

“We gathered them by first light this morning, according to custom,” Inger explained, although the selection had necessarily been limited. “They’re all cooking herbs and houseplants. So if you only dream of cooks and layabouts, you mustn’t take it too seriously.”

Elaine laughed and asked the girl about Sweden. Inger answered enthusiastically. She had emigrated with a boy she had been madly in love with. But they had hardly reached Dunedin when he found someone else.

“It’s
o
wful, no?” Inger asked in her funny accent, but it sounded like she was still hurt. “He brings someone else along, and then… though of course I was the one who made the money for the trip.”

Apparently in the horizontal trade since Inger let it be known that she would have done just about anything for this man.

Elaine looked over at William. Would she do anything for him too? Would he do anything for her?

The festival had taken awhile to get going, but by the time the fire began to die out, it had been fun for everyone—except Kura. She’d had other dances in mind, she explained in a dignified tone when a drunken young gold miner worked up the courage to ask her to dance. In the end, she let William talk her into a jump through the fire. Elaine looked on sullenly. Was that not a custom for those who were in love?

Ruben and Fleurette finally announced that it was time to go, before the festival was completely over. This was when Daphne had to keep an eye on her girls—though she ignored Inger and Søren’s kissing. Perhaps Inger will dream of him tonight, Elaine thought, carefully gathering up her bouquet. Søren seemed to be a nice man, and the towheaded girl deserved better than the life of a prostitute.

Ruben and Fleurette wanted to head straight back to Nugget Manor. They did not want to spend the night in town, as their Maori servants were also at a festival and they had left George alone—a situation about which he had complained bitterly. He, too, would have liked to romp through the fire, but there was school the next day. Fleurette wanted to find out if the boy was in his bed as he should be.

Elaine insisted, however, on returning to town with William and Kura. She had left her horse in Helen’s stable, riding with the two of them in a carriage, so she had a legitimate reason.

“But you can rent a horse from here,” Ruben said, not comprehending. “Why did you leave Banshee in town anyway? You could just have easily ridden behind the carriage.”

Fleurette laid her hand on his arm, trying to appease him. How could men be so dense? She understood that Elaine did not want to leave her admirer alone with Kura for even a second.

“I’ll explain it to you later,” she whispered to her husband, at which point Ruben stopped insisting. “But don’t take too long, Lainie. Ride quickly and don’t stop for anything!”

William looked indignant. He did not think it ladylike for Elaine to ride such a long way alone at night. Was he expected to accompany her? Elaine merely laughed when he halfheartedly offered to do so. She had come into the hotel for a last cup of tea to warm herself up after the carriage ride, and Helen and Gwyneira were still sitting by the fire.

“William, I ride circles around you. You already complain that I gallop down that ‘dangerous path’ by day. At night you would only hold me up.”

She was no doubt correct, but had not expressed herself particularly well, Helen thought. After all, no man liked to be told he was a skittish rider. William looked correspondingly sour, but Elaine did not appear to notice. She blithely told her grandmothers about the midsummer pole and the flowers she had to lay under her pillow.