Embracing Change Read online

  Embracing Change

  DEBBIE ROOME

  EMBRACING CHANGE

  (Ebook Version)

  Copyright © 2010 Debbie Roome

  Cover design: Matt McClay

  Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House.

  All rights reserved.

  The right of Debbie Roome to be identified as the author of this work

  has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs

  and Patents Act 1988.

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real

  people or events is coincidental.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher and copyright owner, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ISBN 978-1-907984-31-0

  First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Rose & Crown Books

  www.roseandcrownbooks.com (Sunpenny Publishing)

  MORE BOOKS FROM ROSE & CROWN:

  A Flight Delayed, by KC Lemmer

  Blue Freedom, by Sandra Peut

  Redemption on the Red River, by Cheryl Caine (coming soon)

  Heart of the Hobo, by Shae O’Brien (coming soon)

  MORE BOOKS FROM SUNPENNY PUBLISHING:

  Dance of Eagles, by JS Holloway

  Going Astray, by Christine Moore

  My Sea is Wide, by Rowland Evans

  The Mountains Between, by Julie McGowan

  Just One More Summer, by Julie McGowan

  Dedication

  To my husband, Kevin, for always believing in me and encouraging me to do what God has called me to do.

  Thanks

  To my family, who never complained when I spent long hours tapping away on my computer.

  To my parents, who nurtured my love of reading and writing from a young age.

  To Murray and Helen Gee, who answered all my questions about sheep farming in New Zealand.

  To my church family, for their interest, support and encouragement.

  Chapter One

  I often wondered how it would feel to leave Africa. To leave the old and familiar; the heavy-blossomed bougainvilleas, and streets washed mauve with jacarandas. Would I miss the roosters crowing at 4am, and the jarring thump of mini-bus taxis as they cruise the streets? And what about the heat? Those searing days where the air hung thick and people gathered in dehydrated clusters. More than that, I wondered if I would find courage to leave my family and friends. To break away from all I had ever known.

  From the journal of Sarah Johnson

  Saturday, 1st March

  They huddled together at the airport—Sarah, her parents, Luke’s parents; a nucleus of pain in a swirling mass of humanity. This would have been a painful day anyway, but she’d never imagined it would be this hard. Small talk dwindled and they stood round her, guarding her, protecting her, but it was time to say goodbye. Time for her to fulfill her promise to Luke. His mother pulled her close and whispered final words in her ear: “Keep him safe, Sarah. Take him where he wanted to go.”

  It was almost a relief to leave their embrace, to walk towards security as their eyes followed her, tears streaming down all their faces. The staff had seen it before, this grief at parting. They appeared unmoved and disinterested as they processed her bags. Would they care, she wondered, if they knew what was in her carry-on bag? Would they care if they knew her story, the reason why her heart was breaking?

  A short while later, she stared at herself in the restroom mirror. Splashing cold water on her face didn’t help—her eyes were still swollen and blotchy, her cheeks pale and thin. Even her hair looked sad, hanging in dark flat sheets over her shoulders. “I’m doing it for you, Luke,” she whispered to her reflection. “I must be strong.”

  She spent the next half hour wandering through the stores in International Departures. They were a concentration of Africa, a mass of carvings, feathers, colour and curios. She hadn’t thought of this aspect of Africa. Would she miss the street vendors and their vibrant wares? Would life in New Zealand be bland by comparison?

  I’ll buy something to take with me, she decided. A special memento. It was a welcome distraction as she browsed through several stores, examining chess sets, holding up fabric paintings and admiring stone carvings. What about a picture frame? An African one to put Luke’s picture in, she thought. Maybe a carved one or perhaps a wire one with intricate beadwork. She finally settled on a dark wood frame with inlaid giraffes in a lighter wood. I’ll put my favourite picture of Luke in it. The one of him leaning against a tree, smiling.

  The plane was massive compared to the small domestic aircraft she was accustomed to. Like a hotel with wings, she thought as she peered into its depths.

  “Good evening, welcome aboard.” A flight attendant glanced at her boarding pass. “You’re in 43C, near the back on the right hand side.”

  She struggled down the narrow aisle, hugging her hand luggage in front of her. Be careful, she wanted to say. Don’t knock my bag. She stowed it carefully in an overhead locker before huddling into her seat. People were still pouring onto the aircraft and yet she had never felt so alone, so vulnerable.

  Concentrate. Think about what’s happening around you. You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

  After another ten minutes, most of the passengers were on board and the cabin crew made a few preliminary announcements. Their Australian accent was quite different to hers, but similar to Kiwis’, so she’d been told. She liked the harshly melodic tones and wondered briefly how she sounded to them. Strange, stilted? What would it be like in New Zealand? How would it feel to live in a country of strangers who spoke differently? Would she be the odd one out? Would she be welcome there?

  A flush of panic rushed through her body as doors were closed and crosschecked. There was no turning back now, no last minute escape. A few tears escaped, and she dabbed them away while listening to the announcements. “Welcome aboard Qantas Flight QF064 to Sydney. Our flying time tonight will be approximately twelve hours. Conditions over Johannesburg are calm and we anticipate a smooth take off.”

  She watched numbly as the crew demonstrated safety procedures. Am I really doing this? she thought. Leaving behind everything I’ve ever known? Surrounded by all these strangers? She pressed her head onto her chest, dizzy and afraid. Then she thought of Luke. Of the promise she’d made. She had to do this for him.

  The pilot lined up behind several other planes, waiting his turn to thunder down the runway. It was dark now, with just a rim of fire where the sun had melted into the horizon. Sarah gazed at the terminal building in the far distance. She’d told her family to go home, but wondered if they were still there; if they were watching from the observation deck. She wished they were in the plane with her, surrounding her with love and comfort, as they had only hours earlier.

  “Cabin crew, prepare for takeoff.” The last crew members took their seats and the aircraft rolled into position, engines roaring, metal straining and vibrating until the plane surged into motion. She gripped the armrests as they hurtled down the tarmac, on and on until eventually the plane lumbered into the air, heavy and sluggish, as it banked to the right.

  The lights of Johannesburg twinkled below them; gold and silver pinpricks, headlights on highways, people headed home to family, warmth, and comfort. Sarah felt like someone had ripped her heart out and left it down there. She tried to make out familiar streets b
ut it was too dark, her mind too confused. Her gaze lingered long after the lights had disappeared. Each second, each minute, carrying her further from home, away from the place where she belonged.

  Dinner was served soon after takeoff and she picked at chicken casserole and vegetables and toyed with blueberry cheesecake and cream. Her appetite was gone and she felt sick with anxiety. An empty seat separated her from a young Indian girl, about her age, seated by the window. She was striking to look at, with swirls of long black hair pinned up on her head. They smiled and acknowledged each other, exchanging names and nothing further.

  “Hi, I’m Shiraz.”

  “Sarah.”

  She was grateful for the easy silence that sat between them. Any type of personal conversation would release fresh tears.

  The crew dimmed the lights after dinner and she experimented with the entertainment system, scrolling through programs, movies and music until she came across ABBA. Luke adored their music, although it had been popular a couple of decades before either of them were born. After listening to his favourite tracks, she moved on to an episode of House and was engrossed in complicated medical procedures when the seat belt light came on.

  “We’re expecting some turbulence and request you fasten your seat belt as a precaution.” All over the plane, bodies stretched out, rearranged themselves and clipped their belts into place. The plane lurched suddenly, dropping what felt like miles through the air. Then the bouncing and bumping started. A baby howled from the depths of economy class and Sarah huddled miserably in her seat. She had never liked turbulence and this was the worst she’d experienced. Would she even make it to New Zealand?

  “We apologise for the rough ride.” A confident voice reassured the passengers. “The pilot has requested permission to fly at a higher altitude which will lift us out of the bad weather.” A sigh rippled round the cabin and she realised they had all been afraid.

  She finally fell into a muddled doze, uncomfortable in her seat and aware of the occasional bumps and bounces. She woke at 1am, then twice more before Shiraz woke her at 2:59.

  “You’re having a bad dream.”

  She struggled upright, tears soaking her shirt. The same nightmare had plagued her for months. Her mother would often come and hold her in the middle of the night; rock her until the terrible fear subsided and her trembling ceased. The dream always ended the same way if she didn’t awaken first: Luke lying on the side of the road, life seeping from him in a dark stain.

  “I love you, Sarah,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ll make it. Take me to New Zealand with you … don’t give up our plans …”

  Shiraz moved into the seat next to Sarah and handed her a tissue. “Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?”

  A flight attendant paused at Sarah’s side just then, her eyes sympathetic. “Can I bring you anything? A pain tablet, some juice, a snack?”

  Their concern brought fresh tears to Sarah’s eyes. “A tablet and some juice would be good. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

  It didn’t take long to organise and the attendant crouched down for a few minutes as Sarah swallowed the pill and thanked them both. “I feel so foolish. Sitting here, crying in front of two complete strangers. It’s not the type of thing I normally do. It’s just that I feel so overwhelmed. So afraid of the future and so alone.” She couldn’t tell them the whole truth but she shared this small part of it.

  Shiraz placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Are you moving to Australia?”

  “No, New Zealand.”

  The flight attendant smiled. “We get many immigrants travelling with us and I’ve seen the pain they go through. Most of them leave loved ones behind and find it really difficult. The great thing is that a year or so later, I see some of them again as they travel back to South Africa for a holiday. Most of them settle in really well and don’t regret their decision.”

  Shiraz continued the conversation as a bell pinged softly, summoning the flight attendant to another part of the plane. “My uncle and his family moved to Sydney two years ago. It took them a few months to settle but they love it now.” She smiled gently. “You’ll be alright. I know you will.”

  To her surprise, Sarah managed to drift off to sleep again, the tablet having quieted the pounding in her head. This time she slept for two hours before the cabin crew roused them for breakfast.

  Kingsford Smith Airport in Sydney was Sarah’s first glimpse of a country outside of Africa. Although tired and emotionally drained, the terror of the night had subsided and she used the hour-long stopover to explore, absorbing the Australian accents and unfamiliar sights. The strangest thing was seeing white people doing menial jobs done by “blacks” in South Africa. How different, she thought as a middle-aged white woman walked past with a trolley of cleaning materials. I see I’ll have to adapt to a whole new way of life.

  By the time the boarding call came for her connecting flight, Sarah was eager to see the country she had studied so carefully and learned so much about. The anticipation took the edge off her tiredness and she settled into the soft embrace of leather. Outside, the Tasman Sea appeared to be a shiny blue cloth, interwoven with sequins and sparkles of silver. It looked so small on the map, but the reality was massive, a vast expanse that rolled endlessly from Australia to New Zealand, from one shore to another. It was a welcome distraction, this unexpected beauty. She knew the pain was still there, lurking deep within, but this was an adventure. She’d taken the first step to living their dream. “Oh, Luke,” she murmured, “how you would have loved this.”

  An announcement from the pilot disturbed her thoughts. “If you’re sitting on the left side of the plane, you’ll see New Zealand in the far distance.” She pressed her face up against the window and caught a glimpse of her new home, watching intently as the grey shadow started to take form. Greenery appeared, and then a fringe of yellow beaches. The sea lightened in colour and took on varying shades of turquoise, emerald and sapphire. This was a different world to the one she knew. A different kind of beauty, and she was captivated.

  Her eyes moistened twenty minutes later as they crossed the Southern Alps; immense formations of grey rock, powdered in places with drifts of snow. This was where Luke had told her to bring him. She thought of the days ahead, the journey into the mountains. She thought of fulfilling his last wish; of taking his ashes and scattering them into mountain breezes. Of sprinkling them into raging waterfalls and majestic, braided rivers. Of making Luke a part of the land he yearned to come to. For the first time in months, a glimmer of hope shone into her heart.

  Thank you, Luke. Thank you for making sure I would come here; that I would give New Zealand a chance.

  Chapter Two

  I have never felt so alone in all my life. There is no one here who knows me, no one who can give a smile of recognition. I never realised that moving means a total loss of identity and reputation.

  From the journal of Sarah Johnson

  Monday, 3rd March

  She woke to a feeling of strangeness and disorientation; a bed that was too firm, shadows that were unfamiliar. A digital display told her it was noon. Uncomfortable and stiff, she turned and stretched, flexing her toes, calves and thighs, lifting her arms and splaying her hands into starfish. Eventually she pushed the bedcovers back and moved across to the window, separating the curtains to gaze out at Christchurch.

  Her impressions of the day before jumbled in a mixture of neatness and beauty, strangeness and detachment. She knew the houses were wooden and wondered if the motel was too. Curious, she knocked on the wall with her knuckles, producing a hollow echo. She had only lived in brick homes and often wondered what wooden houses looked like on the inside. Could you tell they were made of wood? She thought of the homes she passed after leaving the airport. They were all situated on narrow pieces of land, and seemed to be an arm’s length from their neighbour’s.

  What really caught her attention, though, was the openness. Many had knee high fences in white picket or na
tural wood. They were obviously there for the effect and not for security. Others had no barricades at all. Just smooth lawns that unfurled to stop neatly at the tarred foot path. All these impressions mingled together giving a sense of freedom that contrasted sharply with the barricaded suburbs of Johannesburg.

  She pressed the power button on her laptop and the blue light flashed, signalling that life was flowing through its circuits. The motel had been booked over the internet, a full month with discounted rates and wireless internet access. She knew her family would be thinking of her, wondering how her trip had been.

  She left the computer whirring and beeping and turned on the taps in the shower, twisting the silver knobs until warm water sprinkled the glass sides, running, sliding, making watery tracks. It felt good to rinse off the grime of the journey, and she inhaled the fragrance of herbal shampoo and soap as the bubbles swirled down the drain. After a long scrub, she wrapped a snowy towel around herself and sat down to connect to the internet. As she had hoped, there was a message from her parents.

  Dear Sarah,

  We are thinking of you, honey, and missing you terribly already. Hope the trip was uneventful and New Zealand turns out to be everything you hoped for and more besides. Let us know if you arrived safely and never forget—we love you very, very much.

  All our love, Mom and Dad

  She allowed a few tears to fall as she leaned back in the chair, wiping rivulets from her neck with a corner of the towel. It smelt faintly of washing powder and bleach and reminded her of laundry days at home. Their housekeeper, Patience, would start the washing early in the morning and by midday, the scent of soap and clean fabric filled the house as she washed and ironed, folded and put away.