Know Your Heart: A New Zealand - Tracey Alvarez Page 0,64
you do creative writing at university, why my dad would shit bricks if I said I wanted to do music instead of a real profession.”
“Your granddad isn’t all wrong. He wanted your dad and me, and your aunty Grace, to grow into responsible, independent people who could support themselves financially. A career in the arts, especially in a small country like New Zealand, doesn’t guarantee a means to support yourself.”
Tom slammed his guitar case shut. He directed his pleading gaze to Savannah. “You succeeded—did your parents support you?”
The tendons in Sav’s throat resembled taut wires. “Yeah, while I was a kid. I did all the usual ballet and tap classes, drama club, speech training—my mum ran me from one place to another after school. She made my costumes for school plays and encouraged me to try out for auditions.”
“And your father?” Glen asked.
Everything in him focused on Savannah; the flickering shift of her jaw muscles, the skin whitening on her knuckles as she gripped the edge of the workbench.
“My dad was an Air New Zealand pilot and away overseas a lot. But he never complained about the lessons I took, and even when my parents divorced and he moved to London”—her gaze slid to Glen then darted back to Tom—“he never discouraged me from wanting to act.”
Before Tom could say anything, Savannah continued.
“But Glen has a point. It is hard to have a career in the arts. Most of the other drama students in my year work in other industries now. I was a freak—a lucky freak—and I got an opportunity starting out that many others didn’t. But if I’d blown that opportunity, I would’ve been screwed, as I left drama school without finishing my degree.”
“Yeah, well, at least you got to pick drama school instead being groomed for law,” said Tom. “At least your parents didn’t try to turn you into a boring clone.”
Savannah’s lips curled into a sad smile. “You want the truth? By the time I graduated, my parents didn’t give a crap what I did. My mum couldn’t see past her divorce, and my dad had two kids with his new wife. So long as I didn’t end up on the streets or in drug rehab, he didn’t care.”
Her breaths came choppily, and as self-absorbed as teenagers could be, even Tom seemed to grasp the topic was a sensitive one.
“It’s an unenviable position you’re in, Tom,” Glen said, since Savannah’s mouth had clamped into a rigid line. “And you can roll your eyes until they pop out, but the fact is you’re young, and you’ve got plenty of time to decide what you want to do. Perhaps it’ll be music”—he shrugged—“or science, because you have an interest there too. Your decisions now aren’t set in concrete. You’ve got people who love you, people who’ll support you no matter what road you follow first. You can always change course later on.”
Tom picked up his guitar case. “You mean I should sell out and settle for the mundane?”
The unspoken like you did echoed in the silence.
Beside him, Savannah sucked in a ragged breath. Glen shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze never shifting from Tom’s defiant stare.
His interaction with his nephews should’ve prepared him for their uncanny instinct of finding the location of an adults’ Achilles’ heel.
“Nobody’s talking about selling out. I’m telling you, you have choices.”
Tom’s expression shuttered, as if the boy braced himself for one of Jamie’s intensely delivered lectures.
“Whatever.”
Glen forced his numb lips into a grin to try to defuse the tension zipping back and forth. “Yeah, whatever. So go on back to the house; I made you lunch.”
“What sort of lunch?”
“Pancakes. They’re keeping warm in the oven.”
“Sweet.” Tom headed for the door at a trot, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and thanks, Savannah.”
“No problem,” she said.
“Uh, Glen…after I do a couple hours study, is it okay if I walk down to Nate’s? He mentioned working on a pulley system for the tree house.”
“Sure. We’ll call it a practical application of physics.”
“Physics? Jeez,” Tom muttered and left.
After Tom went, Glen dragged his hands through his hair, tilting back his head to stare at the roof. “Were we that bad as teenagers?”
Savannah lifted her legs on top of the workbench and wrapped her arms around her knees. “God. That makes us sound old.”
“I feel old. Old and pissed off that my brother can’t see what a bloody amazing kid he has.”
“Tom loves him.”
“Yep. And Jamie loves him back, but he just doesn’t know who Tom