by Debbie Roome
A silver Nissan was nestled under the trees. Don’t be silly, she scolded herself as fear told her to turn round and go. Even so, she let the car run for another couple of minutes before switching it off. The engine ticked, cooling and settling and still no one appeared. This is New Zealand, she reminded herself. The car belongs to a tourist. I haven’t come all this way to turn round and go back.
She pulled the keys out of the ignition and shrugged her back pack on, making sure her pepper spray was in her pocket. Then she locked the car before heading to the trail that led up to the waterfall.
It was like a moist tunnel encircled with lush ferns, thick bushes and wiry trees. Little sunlight penetrated, and she could hear the waterfall roaring in the distance. The sign at the bottom said it was a twenty-minute climb, that the waterfall was the highest in the region and fed into the Waimakariri River. Sarah took her time, not wanting to slip on the damp path. These were also her last moments with Luke, and she wanted to make them special, create a memory to treasure forever.
It was a rude shock when she turned a corner in the path and came face to face with a man.
“How’re ya doing?”
Blood rushed through her ears, panic rising as her mind manufactured impossible scenes. Her voice came out scratchy. “Well, thank you.”
“Have you seen the falls before?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“They’re magnificent. Well worth the climb.” He looked directly at her when she didn’t respond. “Are you alright?”
Sarah’s heart rate slowed somewhat. He didn’t look dangerous. In fact, he looked rather good. About six foot tall, he had narrow hips, a broad chest and muscled arms beneath a tight fitting T-shirt. His hair was the colour of sun-ripened wheat and curled over his ears.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
He lifted a hand in farewell as she stepped past him. “Enjoy the walk.”
Come on. He’s harmless.
The track steepened, and she found herself grasping bushes and branches to get some traction. Eight months of sitting at home had left her unfit. After several rests, she could tell by the misty air and loud roar that she was nearing the falls. Breathless, she pushed through some hanging fronds and came out on the edge of a pool. The water seemed to be coming from a cavity in the rock a few metres above her head, spraying diamonds through dappled sunlight before landing in the pool. From there, it cascaded into another pool before hurtling down the mountain side.
She knelt and dipped her hand into the water, understanding where the name had come from. It was like liquid crystal, pure and icy. She leaned her back against a tree and carefully took Luke’s ashes out of her backpack. It was 259 days since her life had shattered into a million fragments, and she felt alone, and sick about what she had come here to do.
“This is the right place, Luke. You’ll be able to rest here, rest in this land you’d set your heart on.”
She sat there for a long time, the casket cradled to her chest, soaking in memories, allowing the painful wounds to gape open and grief to pour out. All around, nature carried on as usual; water rushing, birds whistling and insects sawing.
Finally, she removed the lid from the urn. “I feel like I should do something.” She stared at the remains of her fiancé. “Say a prayer or quote from the Bible. Isn’t that what you do on an occasion like this?” She dipped her hand into the fine ash, allowing it to run through her fingers, feeling the hard bone fragments within. “This is so wrong, so unfair.” Fresh tears mingled with the powder as she lifted handfuls and started scattering it across the water, watching as it swirled caught in the current and then surged over the edge to cascade to the next pool far below. “Go in peace, my love. I’ll never ever forget you.”
A while later, she hoisted her back pack onto her shoulders. It was considerably lighter than when she’d set out, the empty casket safe within. Before leaving, she knelt at the edge of the pool and splashed icy mountain water on swollen eyes, wiped her face, and then blew her nose. It didn’t help, as tears continued to fall as she clambered down the track. All she could think was: Luke was gone, gone forever, cascading down the river even now.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t even think about the stranger she had met on the way up. He was leaning against a tree at the bottom of the track, his arms folded loosely.
“Have a good walk?”
Chapter Six
I met a man in the mountains today. I was afraid of him and it angers me that I no longer trust anyone.
From the journal of Sarah Johnson
Tuesday, 11th March
Her face grew warm. Why was he still here? What did he want with her? She turned away from him, trying to hide her puffy eyes but it was too late.
He pushed away from the tree trunk. “You’ve been crying.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“No you’re not.”
Sarah felt anger flare through her grief. “Why are you still here, anyway?”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
The familiar fear thrust its way up again and she touched her pocket, reassured by the feel of her pepper spray. “What do you want?”
He lifted his hands. “Relax. I was worried about you going up there alone so I waited to make sure you came out.” He gestured to a wooden picnic bench. “I was hoping you’d have a cup of coffee with me.” A flask was on the table and a couple of plastic mugs. “I don’t bite. Promise.”
Sarah allowed her muscles to relax slightly. “Why?”
“Because you look like you need a friend.”
Silence lingered for a long moment before she made her decision. “I could do with some caffeine.” Inwardly, she knew the distraction would be good for her. Would take her mind off the ashes drifting down the river, moving further and further away from her.
He smiled then, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “I only serve the best.”
Sarah sat down on the bench as he poured the coffee, the aroma enticing and rich. “So what’s really wrong? You looked so sad when I passed you earlier.”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” His eyes rested briefly on her engagement ring. “Actually, I’ve been very rude.” He extended his right hand. “Joel Baxter. Pleased to meet you.”
“Sarah Johnson.” She accepted his handshake, which was firm and warm.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Both, please.”
He stirred them into her coffee and continued the conversation. “Now, what else can I tell you? I’m 27, single, unattached and have a gorgeous golden Labrador named Shelley. My parents own a sheep farm at the base of the Southern Alps and I’m going to spend tonight with them. I have two married sisters and between them, they’ve given me two nieces and a nephew.” He paused. “That’s enough about me. Your turn now.”
“Well … I’m 23.” A smile escaped, in spite of her inner turmoil. “What else do you want to know?”
“Where’re you from? Your accent tells me you’re not a Kiwi. I would guess South African?” He raised enquiring eyebrows.
“Good guess.”
“Are you on holiday, or do you live in New Zealand?”
“I’ve been here for just over a week—that is, in Christchurch. I have a residence permit and if I can find a job, I’ll be staying—at least for a few months.”
He nodded. “Sweet as.”
“Sweet as what?”
“Just … ‘sweet as’. It’s a common expression in New Zealand. It means something is good.” He grinned at her. “I also live in Christchurch, although I visit my parents frequently. It’s a great place to live, a beautiful city.”
“I like what I’ve seen of it.” She took a mouthful of coffee, thinking she had done the right thing by accepting Joel’s invitation. Although she had talked to many people over the last few days, it had all been superficial. Joel was the only person who had
persisted with her; who seemed genuinely interested in her life.
“So where do you work?”
“I’m a photographer. I do a lot of freelance and contract work, and also fill in for the newspapers if one of their guys is sick or away.”
A photographer. That explained his observation skills. The way he analysed her feelings after their brief encounter.
“I’m a graphic designer, but I also enjoy photography.”
Joel’s face lit up. “It’s fascinating working with images. A frozen moment in time. Capturing an expression. I find it much more fulfilling than working with video footage.”
“I used to paint,” Sarah said. “But not since …” She let the sentence dissolve into the air.
Joel rescued her. “What medium did you use?”
“Oils. I loved the colours. I’d line the tubes up in rows—burnt sienna, iridescent pearl, lemon ochre. I used to mix them endlessly, looking for the right shade or tint. The combinations and subtleties of colour fascinated me. In fact, I used to think in colour. I’d look at something like this bush and see viridian green blended with terra rosa.” She gestured to a shrub behind the table.
“Do you think you’ll paint again?”
“I’m not sure. Nowadays, most things appear to come through a filter of charcoal and black.” She gave a sad smile. “But I’ve seen a few flashes of silver and bronze today. The scenery out here is incredible. Very different to Africa.”
Joel’s face turned serious. “What happened, Sarah? It must have been something big to affect you like this.”
She felt tears welling up at the compassion in his tone. Maybe she should tell him—it wasn’t as though he’d be seeing her again after this afternoon. Swallowing her emotions, she gazed into the trees around them. “My fiancé was shot and killed nine months ago. We had planned to marry last September and move to New Zealand together.”
Joel placed both his hands on top of hers. “I can’t imagine how that must feel. I’m truly sorry.”
They stayed like that for a few minutes, absorbed in their own thoughts, Sarah drawing strength from the human contact, the fact that he seemed to care.
Joel was the first one to speak. “Do you have a cell phone?”
“Only with a South African number. I still need to get a local SIM card.”
“Would you mind if I kept in touch?”
“Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll text you once I have a new number?” Even though she felt a connection to Joel, she wasn’t about to hand out personal information to a stranger.
“Ok. Have you got a pen?”
“I’ll save it onto my phone.”
Joel read the number out twice, and Sarah confirmed it was correct, and saved it.
“I suppose you won’t tell me where you’re staying either?”
You don’t give up easily. “A motel near the airport.”
“Not giving away any secrets, huh?”
He was teasing and Sarah responded in like manner. “You have to earn my trust.”
Joel cleared away the flask and mugs and walked Sarah across to her car. His tone serious again, he leaned over the open door. “I’ll be happy to show you round Christchurch and give you any help you need,” he offered, as Sarah turned the key in the ignition. “Please give me a call.”
Sarah nodded. “Maybe I will.”
Chapter Seven
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
—Isaiah 55:8
You’re far away.” Brad clicked his fingers in front of his friend’s eyes. “What’s on your mind, bro?”
Joel laughed. “A woman, believe it or not.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Tell me more.”
Joel respected Brad’s opinions even though he was a couple of years his junior. Along with his wife, Melanie, he led the twenties group at the church they were part of. Right now, they were waiting for the others to arrive for a discussion about the social calendar for the next few months.
“I met her in the mountains last week and I can’t get her out of my mind.”
“Details, bro.”
“I stopped at Crystal Falls after an assignment in Greymouth and there she was.” He could picture her so clearly. “She’s pretty in a sad kind of way. Straight dark hair that falls past her shoulders, green eyes too big for her face, and far too thin. She lost her fiancé in a shooting back in South Africa.”
“And you learnt all this by the waterfall.” Brad clapped Joel on the shoulders. “Good going, if I say so myself.” His tone was joking but Joel knew he was interested.
“She’s really hurting, Brad. I had to use all my charms to get her to sit down and have a coffee with me.”
“Have you been in touch with her since then?”
“That’s the problem. She wouldn’t give me her number and when I asked where she was staying, she just said a motel near the airport.” He rubbed his nose. “She did take my number, though. I watched her save it onto her phone.”
Brad sighed. “Tell me one thing, Joel. Does she measure up to the requirements of your perfect woman list?”
Joel laughed. “Not at all. That’s why I can’t understand the way I feel. I’m sorry she’s hurting of course, but I’m not the type that rescues stray kittens and wounded women. There’s something else about her; something deeper.”
“Pray about it, Joel. If there’s anything in it, God will bring her back into your life.”
Lively chatter and laughter signalled the arrival of the others and Joel stretched back in his seat. “Don’t say anything to the others, Brad.”
“That’s cool, bro. My lips are sealed.”
A bunch of twenty-somethings spilled into the hall and Joel ran his eyes across the group. Some were single, others dating, and a few were married. A tall attractive blonde detached herself from the others and moved over to Joel. “How’s your week been?” she asked, dropping into the seat next to him.
“Good thanks, Mandy. Yours?”
“Tiring. I’m on the Wellington-Auckland route this week, and the planes have been packed.” She wrinkled her nose. “Thankfully, I’m on a three day break now.”
Brad clapped his hands. “Thanks for coming, everyone. What I want to do tonight is discuss our social events for the next few months. As well as being heaps of fun, these times are perfect opportunities to get people involved. We could look at them as a form of evangelism. I have a list of ideas which I’ll run through, and then we’ll have an open discussion time.”
Joel spent much of the next hour in his own private world. Sarah was constantly in his thoughts and he prayed she would feel confident enough to trust him and give him a call. He’d even thought of driving round the motels and looking for her car, but dismissed the idea. It would appear as though he were stalking her.
Next to him, Mandy prattled on, doing her best to draw him into the meeting. “Joel’s good at organising barbecues. Maybe he could be in charge of that.”
Brad looked at Joel. “What do you think?”
“Uh … ”
“It would only be every six weeks, and we’d have them here on the church property.”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds good to me.” He wasn’t sure what he’d committed himself to, but would ask Brad later.
As the meeting wound to a close, a couple of the girls disappeared into the kitchen to make coffee. Mandy looped her arm through Joel’s. “Come on. Let‘s go and have a drink.”
Joel gently disentangled himself from her, catching the glimpse of hurt in her eyes. “I’m not good company tonight. Too much on my mind, and I have a job I need to finish off.” He touched her on the shoulder. “Another time, maybe.”
The church was deserted as he passed through it and he stopped for a moment, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. “Help me, Lord. I don’t want to hurt Mandy, but she’s so persistent.” There was no audible answer but a sense of lingering
peace followed him from the building.
Back home, he shook some pellets into Shelley’s bowl and added a few slices of dog roll. “That’ll keep you going.” He scratched behind her ears as she started gulping the food down. “Slow down, girl. It’s not a race.”
He sat down at his desk in the corner of the lounge and brought up some images on the computer. They were from the photo shoot he’d done at Greymouth and he was pleased with the way they’d turned out. “Just a few more changes and they’ll be ready to send,” he announced to Shelley.
An hour later he e-mailed them to the advertising agency and stood, stretching long limbs in every direction. Shelley’s tail thumped on the floor at the signs of activity and Joel called her, “Want to go for a walk?”
A few minutes later he was driving down the road with Shelley sitting on her blanket in the back. “We’ll go to the beach. I need a good run after today.”
He followed the ring road that ran round the outskirts of the city until it merged into the road to New Brighton. “Almost there.” Shelley’s head hung out of the window, nose in the air, drool trails across the glass.
Joel parked a few hundred metres north of the pier, as dogs were not allowed on to the bathing beaches. “Come on, girl.” He stuffed a bag in his shorts and a leash in case of need, and they jogged together down to the water. The sun was setting behind him, casting pale fingers of pink and orange across the gently ruffled sea. Half moons of water ran up the sand and foam settled in lacy patterns.
Shelley headed straight into the water and looked expectantly at Joel. “Too cold for me,” he shouted, throwing a tennis ball across the sand. Shelley raced out of the water and tore after the ball, kicking up sand as she did so. Then she brought it back and barked exhuberantly until he threw it again.
After ten minutes of this, Joel started jogging down the beach. The sun dipped lower and the sea looked like an inky lake splashed with gold and crimson. He prayed as he ran. “I’d like to get married, Lord. I’m not getting any younger and I’d love to have a partner to share my life with.” His thoughts turned to Mandy. She fitted his list of a perfect wife in almost every way, except for one. There was no deep connection, no hint that they could become soul mates. She was attractive physically, but Joel knew that was a small part of marriage. It certainly wasn’t a strong basis to build a relationship on.