Page 92 of Under Southern Stars
Sophia and Madison gasp in unison as our jet boat executes a 360-degree spin on Lake Wakatipu, sending up a spray of crystal-clear water that momentarily obscures the mountains. Madison’s laughter is infectious, her hair whipping in the wind as we zoom across the lake’s surface. Sophia, initially tense, gradually relaxes into the experience, her face alight with the simple joy of speed and spectacular scenery.
“That was AWESOME!” Madison declares as we disembark, her face flushed with excitement. “Mom, admit it, you loved it too!”
“It was…exhilarating,” Sophia concedes, smoothing her windblown hair. “Though I think my stomach is still halfway across the lake.”
I guide them through Queenstown Gardens next, taking the scenic route toward the town center. The autumn colors are in full display, crisp golden leaves crunching underfoot as we stroll beneath towering trees.
“It’s so strange to think it’s fall here when it’s spring back home,” Sophia remarks, her hand warm in mine.
“Southern Hemisphere,” I shrug. “Everything’s upside down. Wait till you experience Christmas in summer.”
She looks at me sharply, and I realize my slip—implying future holidays together, something we haven’t discussed. But her expression softens, a small smile playing at her lips. “That would be…interesting.”
The Skyline Gondola carries us up Bob’s Peak after lunch, offering panoramic views that make even Madison briefly forget her phone. I point out landmarks as the cable car climbs steadily upward—the historic steamship TSS Earnslaw plies the lake’s waters, the distant Richardson Mountains, the small neighborhoods nestled along the shore.
“It’s like a postcard,” Sophia murmurs, pressed against the glass. “I can’t believe people actually live with this view every day.”
“Some lucky bastards,” I agree, thinking of the estate we will visit tomorrow, with its sweeping views of Lake Dunstan and the Central Otago mountains.
At the summit, we take obligatory photos with the spectacular backdrop, Madison insisting on several “family shots” that have Sophia and me exchanging surprised glances over her head. I play tour guide, sharing stories about the region but carefully sanitizing any that might hint at my family’s prominence.
When Madison spots the luge track and begs to try it, I gladly purchase tickets, watching as she and Sophia race down the mountain on wheeled carts, their laughter echoing back up the hillside. For those few hours, I almost forget what is coming.
Almost.
By early afternoon, hunger drives us to Fergburger, Queenstown’s famous burger joint where the line typically stretches down the block.
“Seriously? We’re waiting in this?” Sophia asks skeptically, eyeing the queue.
“Trust me,” I assure them. “This burger will change your lives.”
Forty minutes later, seated at a small table with massive, sauce-dripping burgers in front of us, Madison takes her first bite and her eyes widen comically.
“Oh myGod,” she moans around a mouthful. “This is…this is…”
“Told you,” I grin, watching as Sophia closes her eyes in appreciation after her own first bite.
“Okay, you win,” she admits. “Worth the wait.”
As they finish their meals, I find myself cataloging these moments, storing them away: Madison’s face smeared with aioli, Sophia’s laughter as she tries to manage her unwieldy burger, the way the sunlight catches in both their dark hair. I am building a treasure trove of memories, just in case.
Throughout the day, I’d navigated us carefully through Queenstown, avoiding certain shops owned by family friends and restaurants where I might be recognized. When Sophia had suggested a particular winery for late lunch, I’d redirected to a craft brewery instead, mentioning the better views. When Madison had wanted to browse a specific boutique, I’d suggested a different one nearby first, saying we could check out both if we had time. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but I steer us so thoroughly through the second shop that we “ran out of time” for the first—which happened to be owned by my father’s oldest friend.
It is exhausting, this constant vigilance. The half-truths. The omissions.
And yet, seeing Sophia’s face as she gazes out over the lake, stress melting from her shoulders with each passing hour; watching Madison embrace each new experience with unbridled enthusiasm—it only confirms what I already know. I would do anything to keep them in my life, even if it meant facing the music tomorrow.
???
“I’m exhausted,” Madison announces dramatically. “I think the jet lag is still catching up with me.”
“We’ve had a pretty full day,” Sophia agrees, stifling a yawn behind her hand.
“Why don’t you head back to the hotel?” I suggest to Madison. “Order room service, watch a movie. Your mom and I could have a quick drink somewhere nearby, then join you.”
Madison’s eyebrows rise suggestively. “Oh, I see. You two wantalone time.”
“MadisonGrace!” Sophia’s cheeks flush.
