Unbound - Rachel's Story
Copyright© 2025 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 27
Tuesday settled back into its usual rhythm. Still, Rachel found herself catching her breath now and again, marvelling that only a few weeks earlier she’d doubted she’d ever feel useful again.
Matt texted mid-afternoon: Coffee after Ara?
She replied: Yes, but quick one — need to prep for Friday.
Over flat whites at a nearby café, they compared notes about the weekend ahead. Rachel admitted she was excited about Pauline’s visit, but also oddly nervous.
“It’s silly,” she said, stirring her coffee. “She’s family. But it feels like ... like she’ll be peeking behind the curtain of everything I’ve been building here. What if she thinks I’m—well—less than I should be?”
Matt reached across the table, closing his hand around hers. “She’s not coming to judge, darling. She’s coming because she loves you.” Rachel managed a smile, but her eyes were distant.
The evening passed quietly. Rachel caught up on marking and made a list of groceries for the weekend, while Matt fielded a late-night call from his father about a problem with software on his computer, which thankfully Matt was able to diagnose over the phone. In one sense, it was an ordinary domestic evening, but the overlay of the coming weekend gave it an edge.
Wednesday
Wednesday saw Rachel and Matt again resorting to takeaways for an evening meal together. But they appeared to be getting into a rut, which worried Rachel.
“I know our budget can stand it,” she told him, “but I’m not happy about making a habit of this. I’m sure it’s not a regular thing in your parents’ household...”
“Swannanoa’s a bit far from the nearest restaurant to make that a practical habit,” he joked.
“ ... but,” she said, ignoring the interjection, “I’d prefer that it not become a regular habit when we’re married.”
“Agreed,” Matt replied. “Let’s hope our life doesn’t depend on takeaways. After a while, they become rather ordinary, anyway.”
“Which raises a bigger issue, my love,” Rachel said. “Inevitably, there’ll be a lot of domestic things we’ll need to come to an understanding about. Like, who does the cooking, puts out the rubbish, or does the vacuuming. If we just assume, based on the way it always happened in our parents’ place, there could be clashes of expectation.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of these things becoming real sore points, and I certainly don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot.”
A lively discussion ensued, revealing differences that they agreed needed to be resolved. Taking a break, Matt went to the kitchen to make a drink. While out, Rachel transferred from her chair to the sofa, something she’d done countless times, but her balance shifted at the wrong moment. She landed on the floor with a jolt, not painful, but sharp enough to send a rush of heat to her face.
Hearing the noise, Matt came running. “Are you hurt?” Rachel was annoyed with herself, and in the process felt Matt was being overprotective.
“No!” she snapped, breathless. “Just startled. Don’t you dare wrap me in cotton wool, Matthew Freeman.”
He froze, at first not sure what to say. “Point taken,” he said finally.
The flash of temper melted quickly. Rachel reached for his hand, squeezing it. “Sorry. I just ... if I start treating myself like I’m fragile, I’ll never stop.”
He kissed the top of her head. “And if I stop caring, I’m not me. We’ll find the middle.”
Rachel had barely settled when the phone rang. Pauline’s voice came down the line, warm but with an edge of hesitation.
“It’s been such a long time since I’ve been in the country. I hope I won’t be in the way, darling.”
“In the way? Don’t be daft,” Rachel said. “I can’t wait to see you.”
But when the call ended, she sat for a long while, her lips pressed tight.
Matt, reading her face, asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, exactly. Just ... she sounded nervous. Like she’s carrying something I don’t yet know about.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll face it together,” Matt said simply.
Rachel leaned against him, grateful, but her thoughts kept circling. She had overcome so much already; she only hoped that what Pauline carried wouldn’t be the next mountain to climb.
Thursday
Matt knew he’d put it off too long. Steve was a mate, and he agreed with Rachel that mates didn’t stay silent when something needed saying. So after work, he picked up the phone.
“Beer tonight?” he asked.
The sigh down the line told its own story. “You’ve got no idea how much I need one.”
They met at a corner hotel not far from Steve’s last job of the day. Steve looked weary but glad to be there, and within minutes the first drink had disappeared. The first half-hour was easy chatter—work yarns, the latest All Black match against Australia, the usual back-and-forth about refereeing blunders and brilliant tries.
But Matt had come with more on his mind. He waited for the right lull, then leaned in. “So how are things with Sarah?”
Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“Not with her. She’s ... she’s good. We don’t fight, we get on, and I know she wants more. I just don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
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