Authors: Debbie Roome
Mandy opened the door, eyes red-rimmed and splotched with mascara. “Hi Joel.”
He followed her in, a sinking sensation in his gut. “Is it true, Mandy? Did you look at Sarah’s journal?”
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “It was a terrible thing to do. I couldn’t find my pantyhose so I went to check her room in case she’d picked them up by mistake. I saw it when I was looking through her drawers and the temptation was too much.”
He followed her through to the kitchen. “Why, Mandy? What was so enticing that you had to invade her privacy and violate her trust? Can’t you see how fragile she is?” He leaned on the counter top before continuing. “This is all my fault. All
our
fault.”
Mandy pulled a fresh tissue from her pocket. “I looked because of you, Joel. I wanted to see if she’d written anything about you. Whether she had feelings for you.” She dropped her eyes. “I’m so ashamed of myself. I should never have done it.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” Joel’s voice was rough.
“I was offered a promotion last week. It involves moving to Auckland for an initial period of six months but may become permanent. I accepted it this afternoon. I think it’s for the best.”
Joel’s anger softened as he looked at her. “I’m to blame as well. I said a whole bunch of things I shouldn’t have—and I haven’t been fair to you either.” He walked around the counter and pulled her into a hug. “Brad told me to level with you but I didn’t. I think I was keeping you in the wings as a backup. You’re a lovely girl, Mandy. Beautiful, sophisticated, charming, but we’re not right together.”
“I know.” She sniffed hard. “I can see that now.”
They stood together for a long while before Mandy pulled away.
“What are you going to do about Sarah, Joel?”
He shrugged. “What can I do? I’ll call her tomorrow and apologise. Tell her I’m an insensitive jerk.”
“Do you love her?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, I do. The problem is I’ve been trying to change her into someone she isn’t. I had this dumb list of what I wanted in a wife and I’ve tried to make her fit it.” He wandered out of the kitchen and flopped into an armchair. “Do you know what time she arrives in Johannesburg?”
Mandy shook her head, her curls a tumbled mess, eyes raw and nose red. “If she really matters to you, Joel, don’t call her. Go after her. Get on the next plane and follow her to Johannesburg. She loves you.”
He was still for a moment. “Do you really think I should?”
“Undoubtedly. Surprise her. Arrive on her doorstep with a dozen red roses and apologise.”
“What if she sends me packing? I really hurt her today. I could see the pain in her eyes.”
Mandy smiled sadly. “I only read one page of her journal, but trust me, there’s no chance she’ll send you away.”
Chapter Thirty
I can’t wait to see Africa again and feast on all I have yearned for: my family, my home, the hazy yellow mine dumps. I wonder then why my heart is filled with thoughts of another city, half way round the world.
From the journal of Sarah Johnson
Tuesday16th December
Sarah’s parents were waiting at the airport and they fell into each other’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time. “We’ve missed you, Sarah!” Her mom squeezed her tightly. “I can’t believe it’s almost a year since you left.”
Sarah felt the joy of familiarity bubbling up. She was home and the pain of departure was washed away by the sweetness of reunion. She stood back and had a good look at them. Mom was a bit thinner and Dad seemed greyer round the temples. For the first time, Sarah realised how hard the separation had been on all of them. She slipped her arm around her mother’s waist. “It’s
so
good to see you again.”
“We couldn’t believe it when we got your e-mail. It’s the best Christmas present you could ever have given us.”
As they drove through the exit gate, Sarah was immersed back into her old life. The Johannesburg skyline spread across the horizon, stark through the shroud of hazy smog. Heat waves shimmered everywhere and the sun beat through the car windows.
“What’s the temperature supposed to be today?” she asked, mopping her face.
“Thirty-six.” Her dad looked over his shoulder. “Not used to it anymore, eh?”
“Seems not.” Sarah gazed through the window, recognising landmarks as they passed the off-ramps to Edenvale and Germiston and entered more familiar territory near Booysens. Yellow mine dumps scarred the countryside in the distance, some ridged with sparse layers of grass. “I see the litter problem hasn’t improved.” The roadsides were lined with takeaway wrappers and empty bottles, scraps of paper and plastic.
“South Africa’s national flower,” her father commented dryly as he turned off the highway.
Sarah pressed her face to the window as they travelled along a main road into the suburban areas. “The street vendors are still around.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Even more so than ever. The latest craze is High School Musical merchandise.”
The car slowed in congested traffic and Sarah got a clear view of the roadside. It looked like a market, with everything from cane baskets to chunky wood furniture, plastic bins and buckets for sale. Towels flapped in the breeze, emblazoned with bright Disney colours and the stars of High School Musical. Her dad drew to a stop at the traffic lights and two figures converged on their vehicle. One was selling cell phone car chargers, a whole variety draped across his arms like black snakes; the other offered boxes of ripe mangos.
Sarah watched their smiling black faces, white teeth, dark glasses and floppy sunhats and with no warning, her insides froze. She swallowed hard as the lights changed and they pulled away.
I’ll get used to it
.
It’s just culture shock. I mustn’t brand them all as being like Dlamini.
The main road branched into the suburbs and Sarah turned her attention to the houses. They looked like prisons with rows of high walls, palisade fences and electronic gates. “Everything’s so closed in,” she said. “It seems strange to me now.”
Her parents’ home was no different, hidden behind six-foot walls and smothered in orange, mauve and pink bougainvillea. Dad pressed the remote that dangled from his key ring and the gates swung open, revealing an expanse of neatly trimmed lawn and her mother’s rose garden, packed with tight buds and a few blossoms.
Sarah stretched as she climbed out of the car. “It’s wonderful to be home. I’ve looked forward to this moment so much.” Before she could say anymore, Patience came running out to meet her.
“Miss Sarah, Miss Sarah!” She threw her arms around her and engulfed her in plump flesh and the scent of fabric softener and fresh ironing.
“Patience, I’ve missed you.” They clung together for a long moment.
“So how is New Zealand?” She pronounced it as Neew Zeeelind.
“It’s good, Patience. A good country. It’s very peaceful there, very safe.” Sarah smiled as she followed her into the house and down the plushly carpeted passage to her old room.
“I cleaned everything for you, Miss Sarah.”
She opened the door and a slice of her old life, perfectly preserved, stared back at her. A huge bowl of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow blossoms spilled across the dressing table and the room was perfumed with the delicate scent of a thousand memories.
In some ways she was exhuberant, rejoicing that she was home, back in Africa where she belonged, but there was a slight ache within her, a little hollow space that yearned for the crisp air of another city; the sedate traffic and red buses wending their way through leafy suburbs where unfenced properties were the norm.
They spent a happy afternoon chatting and catching up on news of old friends and family members. “I’ve loads of pictures on my laptop, and I brought some gifts as well,” Sarah told them. She had chosen a selection from the airport shops in Christchurch.
“Let’s save them for tomorrow,” her mother said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked Luke’s parents around for tea.”
“That’s perfect,” Sarah smiled. “I want them to see the pictures, and I brought them gifts too.”
Luke had been on her mind all day, but somehow the terrible pain of loss was no longer there. It was more a lingering sadness; an awareness that life could have been very different. She wouldn’t have thought it possible a year ago—but she’d lived through so much since then; she was a changed person. Even so, she planned on visiting some of their special spots, and maybe even the scene of the hijacking. She wasn’t too sure about that, but Joel’s words raced through her mind as a challenge:
Stop wallowing in self pity and face your demons. Why don’t you go home to South Africa and get it out of your system once and for all? Go look Dlamini in the eye and see who’s the stronger.
Dinner was served at 6pm that evening. “You must be tired, dear, so we’ll eat early,” her Mom had decided. Patience carried through steaming bowls of bobotie and yellow rice, served with a tossed green salad.
“This is superb. I haven’t eaten
bobotie
or
biltong
or
boerwors
for-
ever!
” She had a second helping of the spicy mince dish before her eyes started to droop.
“Go to bed, Sarah. We’ll catch up tomorrow and look at all your photos and things”.
By 8pm Sarah was stretched out in bed, eyes closed.
My heart should be filled with joy. I’m back home, I’m with my family, but the excitement is already fading.
She knew the reason why. When she’d switched her cell phone on, she’d seen two missed calls from Joel. Because she was out of New Zealand, she was unable to check if he’d left a voice mail. Questions ran through her mind, wearing a groove of worry in her thoughts.
Does he know I’m back in South Africa? Does he care, or is he relieved I’m gone?
Chapter Thirty One
I’m looking forward to seeing Luke’s parents. I hope the pictures and stories will bring them a new measure of peace.
From the journal of Sarah Johnson
Wednesday 17th December
The next morning Sarah awoke to Mr Gwala’s rooster letting rip across the road. A slow smile spread across her face as she checked the time. 5 o’clock. Some things never changed.
She slipped out of bed and padded over to the window, pressing her face up against the burglar guards. The garden looked fresh and inviting, but she knew the baking heat would return with the sun.
Are you with me, God? Have I done the right thing by coming here?
Sighing, she opened her case and unpacked her clothes into her cupboard. Then she took her journal out of her hand luggage as well as the Bible Joel had given her. She pressed it against her cheek.
I’m at a crossroads. I know Joel didn’t mean I should jump on a plane and come back here, but maybe it’s right. Help me to make the right decisions.
She opened the Bible to Psalm 37:4 and read a verse Joel had pointed out to her:
Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart
. She shut her eyes.
I need wisdom, God. I need to know
how
to delight myself in You. I know I’ve been stubborn and I’ve held you at arm’s length, but would you help me through the next few days? Show me the way I should go, and the things I need to do
.
She closed the Bible and put it on the shelf next to her journal. There was no need to lock things away here.
Luke’s parents arrived at 2pm and they embraced her for a long time. “It’s wonderful to see you, Sarah,” his mother, Sharon, whispered in her ear. “And thank you so much for keeping in touch and e-mailing us all those photographs.”
They settled down in the lounge and Patience brought a tray of tea and cupcakes. Easy chatter followed, and when plates were empty and cups drained, Sarah brought out her bag of gifts. “I’m sorry they’re not wrapped, but this was a spur of the moment visit.” She handed boxed paua shells to both sets of parents. “It’s actually abalone but this variety is peculiar to New Zealand. They use it in every way imaginable—in jewellery, gift boxes, bookmarks, and inlays.”
“It’s beautiful, Sarah.” Her mother held theirs up, admiring the shimmering turquoise lines laced with splashes of silver and mauve.
“And these are merino and possum socks for the dads ….” She handed them out; “and … Kauri-wood jewellery boxes for the moms.”
“I’ll treasure this,” Luke’s mom said, examining the intricate patterns. “Thank you, Sarah, for thinking of us.”
After a few more minutes of talk, Sarah went to fetch her laptop. “I haven’t shown Mom and Dad the photos yet, so we can all look together.” She linked it to the television with a cable and the giant LCD screen brought New Zealand into their midst. “These are all shots of the city centre … and this is Hagley Park, which is 165 hectares in size … and this is the house where I was living … and this is Joel.” She showed the photos she’d taken of him shearing sheep, playing with Shelley, clowning around at Christmas in the Park. “He’s a nice guy but we’re just friends. Even so, he’s been very good to me. It’s through him that I started flatting with the girls …” Her voice trailed off. “He’s actually the reason I’m here. We had a fight and I just needed some space.”