Rose had been saving up things to say in case she were left alone with Sue, because she hated not being prepared. She forgot all of them.

  “I’m sorry I came along so unexpectedly, and at such a bad time for you.” Rose said after struggling.

  It was enough to draw Sue temporarily away from the curtain.

  “Oh, that’s quite all right. Nora told me she asked had you when she rang,” Sue said. “Unexpected is right, but not unwelcome. How do you like New Zealand, then?”

  “Very much, it’s a beautiful country,” Rose smiled, the stock answer to the stock question, and like a child in school who is asked the only answer she happens to know, beamed with relief.

  “Nora said your mum was a Kiwi?”

  “Indeed, she was.”

  “How wonderful to look up her old haunts and make some contact with her heritage. That’s what you’re doing?”

  “With only a little success, I’m afraid, except for a stack of letters from her Nora gave me. My mother wrote them to Nora’s father.”

  “Our generation won’t have stacks of letters to leave to our children.” Sue said, “Unless people get into the habit of printing out all their email. Talking of which, we have two old computers besides the one we’re using. I wasn’t able to transfer all the data over to the new one. Outdated programs. Stuff relative to the farm, mostly. I shouldn’t cart all that nonsense with us.”

  “Can I ask where you and Edwin are moving to?”

  “My sister.” She brightened. “She owns a motel in Christchurch. We’re going to help her to operate it. Her husband died two years ago and she’s had a difficult time managing. She has young children as well. Ed will take care of the grounds, and the maintenance, and I will run the office with her and help with the housekeeping.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  “I’m quite chuffed...actually looking forward to it.” Sue said, “I wish Ed were. I think he’ll enjoy it once he starts. The trouble is, it’s such a different kind of life to what we’ve had.”

  “I guess so.”

  “But as I told Ed, farming was something neither of us were born to. He grew up in the city, and I grew up in Christchurch where my mum and dad ran a shop. We adjusted to the country and now we just have to adjust to something new entirely.”

  “A new adventure.”

  “Exactly,” Sue said, “and it would be nice to take some of the weight off our shoulders. Managing this place, I mean. As much as I’ve loved it here, the whole thing always weighed on me. So many commitments and contracts, and loans. So much work to do. It would be nice to have a life again where one has a day off without guilt.”

  “Even so, a motel would keep you pretty busy, I imagine.”

  “I hope so. That’s what Ed needs. That’s what I need, in a way that won’t make me feel like I’m being buried by it.”

  “Good luck,” Rose said, “I’m sure your sister will be glad to have help.”

  Sue turned back to the window and nudged aside the curtain with her fingertip.

  “I sometimes worry that I’m doing it more for myself than for Ed.” She was quiet a moment, absorbed and subdued, and it suddenly occurred to Rose that this was not natural to Sue. Then Sue added, “We’ve missed the Canterbury Show this year. Trevor John had a flutter on the horseracing, but I don’t think he mentioned it to Ed. It seemed traitorous, I think, to him. We didn’t bring up entering the show this year, though I’m sure Ed must have thought about it. I didn’t say a word, hoping he’d forgotten. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to go again as spectators and enjoy ourselves, or would it be depressing?”

  ***

  Nora caught Trevor John’s eye before Edwin’s, even though Edwin sensed she was there beside him. He would not look at her. Trevor John had been about to update Edwin on what he had done to forward the transfer of property to the new owner. Nora’s interruption would have been welcome; Edwin was a careless, anxious listener these days, except that she was Nora. She had always been the hard, unblinking mortar that Edwin felt was his job, but she always beat him to it. He did not want her here.

  Trevor John welcomed her by expression only, a lift of his chin and a grin from smiling eyes under the brim of his hat. He rested the end of his clipboard on his belt and shifted his weight to the other foot, pondering briefly if it were really worth pushing Ed to pay attention at this time.

  “Ah, we can go over this tomorrow, mate,” Trevor John said, “nothing that won’t keep. You’ve got your company.”

  Edwin’s deep breath and momentary flexing of his tense shoulders seemed to indicate that he was relieved by Trevor John’s first suggestion, and instantly ill-at-ease by his second. Trevor John noted his tension and briskly batted for him.

  “How’s your mum, then, Nora?” Trevor John asked.

  “She’s in hospital, but she’s stable and I’m trying to have her transferred to a rest home.”

  “Ah, sorry she’s had a bad time,” Trevor John said, instantly floundering for a better topic.

  “She’d like to hear from you Ed,” Nora said, “does it not occur to you that you have a mother who might miss you?”

  Yes, a better topic would be good right now.

  “Is that why you’ve come down here?!” Edwin said, “to start rowing with me? I have enough to do now. Go on, get out of here. Can’t you see we were discussing the farm?”

  The weather? The Canterbury Crusaders? The telly? What was on last night?

  “Did you read about that murder over in Wanganui?” Trevor John asked, with an impromptu squeak in his voice. Edwin and Nora looked blankly at him.

  “Something about a chainsaw and a cat, and some poor bastard who got home invaded,” Trevor John continued, “which reminds me, Ed did you ever find the torch I lost?”

  Edwin looked at him in utter confusion. Nora, however, took the hint in Trevor John’s clumsy diversion.

  “Look Ed,” she said, “I didn’t come to row. I’ve started off wrong, you know me, no tact for the niceties and not much patience. It’s a wonder someone hasn’t murdered me with a chainsaw and a cat years ago.”

  “Don’t leave, Trevor John,” she said, “you can stay and discuss your business with Ed. I’m going back to house. I’ll just say this, Ed, and be done with it. Sue asked me to help persuade you to see a doctor about your nerves and your depression.”

  Edwin cursed and turned away.

  “It won’t take much from you Ed,” she went on, “just a decision to get a hand with your troubles. Some medicine to help you sleep perhaps, or something to keep you calm while you sort things out, that’s all.”

  “She had no bloody right!”

  “Don’t blame her. She’s frightened. It’s not her fault the person she chose to urge you on this comes from a long line of no-nonsense people who don’t know the first thing about delicacy. That’s not for you and me, is it, Ed?”

  Nora turned and left, without bothering to wait for Edwin’s reaction or some acknowledgment from Trevor John. She already guessed they would not discuss the scene between themselves, and Trevor John would go right on with his clipboard and his business.

  He did not, however. Edwin walked to the far end of the building where another set of doors were open and looked out on the deepening twilight. Trevor John knew he had not lost Edwin’s attention because he never had it.

  ***

  “August 14, 1975

  Dear Rob,

  Since I last wrote, we’ve been turned upside down by a sad event. My father-in-law died last month. He had a bad heart, and finally took sick with terrible angina. He was brought to hospital, but had a heart attack and died. It is hardest, of course on Genowefa, who wears black in mourning. But I think our wee Rose will have a hard time as well. She misses her grandfather, as he was a real playmate to her. Really, Franciszek doted on her.

  The cemetery where he is buried is about two miles up a steep hill, but she has already ridden her bike there by herself several times to visit his grave. Hank told her not to, and I think he is irritated that she misses Granddad so much when he himself did not get on with his dad. But I think Hank will miss his dad, too, though in a way which will not bring comfort in time the way Genowefa’s and Rose’s grieving will. Of course Hank is also concerned that Rose will have an accident on that hill or get hit by a car, or taken by someone, but Rose is ten years old now, and she is oblivious to any danger.

  Funny, I don’t remember ever being oblivious to danger, even as a child. But I reckon you were a brave little bloke. I can remember calling after you when you and Mel dared each other to jump from Mary’s window. You laughed and laughed at me, you cruel thing, and I envisioned tragedy at every step.

  That’s something else that will make a big difference to Rose. Her granddad was her mate, she has no brother or sister her age to play with, only a few kids in the neighborhood, and school. I wouldn’t have liked being an only child, which for all purposes she is. Her older sisters are married and living away with children of their own, who call my ten-year-old daughter ‘Auntie.’ Can you imagine?”

  Rose folded the letter. Uncle Rob would have only a few more months to live after having received this letter. Her mother did not know her brother would have a heart attack himself, after acute renal failure, after years of abusing alcohol, and that she would also be left with an unresolved relationship, as Rose’s father had with his father. She would also do her mourning privately, with as much resentment and anger over the loss of her brother as sorrow.

  Rose could hear Nora downstairs, talking with Sue.

  “Has Steve, at least, been told of any of this?”

  “He won’t let me.”

  Rose stepped lightly down the stairs, and out to the back of the house, where she quietly closed the door behind her and stood a moment on the back porch, watching the last, distant, thin rays of sunset on the awesome mountains, while the valleys below were already dark with brooding shadow. She turned to her left, about to stroll around the porch when she suddenly noticed Edwin sitting there, in a chair, glassy-eyed and glued to the darkening scene beyond. He did not know yet she was there, so intensely entangled in a web of his own anxiety, which had become a bigger problem than his problems.

  She stepped back, and abruptly turned right instead. When safely around the corner of the house, she breathed deeply the warm, damp night air in relief. Away from the protection of its roof, the unfamiliar pattern of stars. She tried to find upside-down Orion on her own, and wondered if she could see the Southern Cross at this time of night, since the latitude was closer to the South Pole than Tristan’s back garden in Auckland, where he had found it for her until much later in the evening.

  “Did you lose something up there?” a voice said.

  Rose started, and blinked, adjusting her eyes from the starlit sky to the dark shadows of earth again. Trevor John belonged to the voice.

  “Well, where did you come from?”

  “I was born in Auckland,” he said, and waited until he was standing quite close to her before continuing to speak. “Are you running away?”

  Rose said nothing for a moment, struck by what he had said.

  “Would you care to go for a wee walk?” he asked.

  “Where to?” she hesitated.

  “You’re quite safe with me.”

  Rose smiled ruefully.

  “That was rather girlishly prudent of me, wasn’t it?” she said, “You know, you don’t have to herd me away from Edwin, I wasn’t going to intrude on his privacy. I didn’t know he was there.”

  “I wasn’t going to herd you.”

  “Okay.”

  Trevor John considered her a moment, gestured to the wide expanse of paddock before them and shoved his hands into his pockets as they turned their backs on the sunset.

  “I don’t really know all that’s going on with Edwin,” Rose said, “Do you think he’ll allow himself to be helped?”

  Trevor John said nothing, and Rose duly considered herself rebuffed. They approached a fence, and Trevor John’s pace did not slow, but it seemed as if he would walk straight through the fence. When they reached it, he stopped, taking his hands from his pockets and placing them on the weathered wood. He looked straight ahead and beyond, in the distance where the highway was that the farm road led to, then he gave a deep, slow sigh and turned to Rose, who intently watched his face.

  “Ed’ll find his way,” he said, sounding defensive.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  They stood quietly at the fence, the glow from the diminishing sun behind them casting its last light on half their faces.

  “What does Nora think is wrong? What does she intend?” he asked, without looking at her.

  “I think she had it from Sue that it was anxiety and depression.” Rose said, thinking once again she had found herself in an awkward situation where she was doomed to feel gullible and inept, “I think Nora and Sue want to encourage him to see a doctor.”

  “He’ll not go.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Trevor John looked at her. “What were you thinking of, when you were staring up at those stars with your mouth open?”

  “My grandfather,” Rose said, smiling because of Trevor John, of how he sounded when he spoke, and how he looked like a cross between a cowboy movie sidekick and a romance novel cover. He thought instead she was smiling over a happy memory of her grandfather.

  “Something funny?” he asked, smiling a little himself in anticipation.

  “Oh...no, actually. My grandfather, actually underneath all his hard work and drive, and silly fun...he was really a very troubled man. I was also thinking of my father, who died so shockingly quickly of pancreatic cancer, like he was purposely retreating out of our lives, and almost entirely on his own terms. Well, obviously that can’t be true, but it sure seemed that way. In a way they and Edwin all have something in common. A guy thing?”

  Trevor John did not reply, and she chided herself that this was an asinine conversation to start with a man in whom she knew she was already interested, and quite unexpectedly so. She doubted she had the ability, or even the will, to attempt to interest him. It could only end in disappointment; it always did.

  He folded his arms and squinted into the sunset, back at the house, and yawned.

  She couldn’t have driven him farther away than if she had used a number three wood.

  “And you? Why are you here?” he asked without looking at her. She wished everyone would stop asking her that question. She did not want to struggle with another appropriate answer. She did not know the answer.

  CHAPTER 8

  “February 1,1963

  Dear Rob,

  This is my anniversary day of coming to the United States. There is no commemoration in my family, I am the only one who celebrates such things, but only in my mind. Genowefa, my mother-in-law, is the same way, because if I mention it, Genowefa will exclaim, ‘I too remember when I came to this country,’ and tell me once again about the steerage journey she went crook, and the confusion of Ellis Island, and following her stubborn, funny husband to a place where they knew no one. They have been here over forty years, for they came before World War I, and yet sometimes I think they are still not completely here at all. Their hearts and their thoughts are sometimes still in Poland, as, I confess, mine are still in New Zealand. Will I be that way, too, as an old lady? I’m not sure I want that.”

  Rose folded the letter back in the envelope as Nora came in the room. It had been the bedroom of Edwin’s and Susan’s daughters. They were grown now, they had gotten on with their lives. They were not emotionally or physically entrenched in the lives their parents had lived. Good on them. Was that what it was to have an Overseas Experience? Did self-imposed distance from one’s homeland create young people better fit to live in a diverse world?

  There were no posters on the walls or anything to indicate two girls grew up here. Sue had begun to pack pictures and wall hangings, and family mementos. All over the house there had been systematic dismantling of their decorations and belongings. Sue had started slowly at first, and now that Rose and Nora had arrived, she plowed forward, emboldened, and left more and more boxes, labeled with a marker and sealed with masking tape, in her wake.

  Nora sat on the other twin bed and stared at the floor.

  “I can’t talk to him. I don’t know what she expects of me. Crumbs, she’s his wife, if she can’t reason with him, how will I? The stubborn fool.” Nora said, “He just gets angry, we can’t even talk.”

  “Could you ever?”

  “We had managed to communicate once. We were never terribly close friends, Ed and I, but we always got along. I realize now it was more that he went his way and I went mine.”

  “I shouldn’t be here, Nora.” Rose said, “This is God-awful personal for your family and I’m really, really in the way.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “What is that?”

  “Rose, how do you get on with your sisters?”

  Rose’s expression turned to one of guilt, though not exactly remorse.

  “I...punched my sister Linda.”

  Nora waited for Rose to finish her pause, but she did not.

  “Sorry? You what? You punched her?” Nora asked, suddenly squinting at Rose, as if that would help her understand better.

  “Yes. I belted her in the chops.”

  “Disagreement?”

  “Punched her right in the face.” Rose said with nervous solemnity. It took her another moment to realize Nora was teasing her.

  “What, when you were children?”

  “No, a few days ago.”

  Nora struggled not to laugh. She stared at the ceiling and her eyes began to water with the effort of not laughing. “And, so you had to leave the country? Are you a fugitive from justice?”

  Nora tried to keep her voice from shaking, and was not entirely successful. Rose looked up at her.

  “Honestly, I never hit anybody in my life.” Rose said, “Except in dodgeball. I can’t even believe I did it.”

  “So, normally you’re slow to anger?”

 

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