Big Change Ends Grieving

Chapter 1

Rodin Moon arrived in New Zealand from New York half a world away after two-day stopovers at LA and Honolulu, dispirited and disoriented. It was 5:30 am in a different time zone.

Thank goodness, the officials at Auckland International Airport spoke English, at least a version of it, she thought, standing patiently.

The 'aliens' like herself, mostly eye-weary with drooping shoulders, watched indifferently as many others moved at a much faster rate through Customs at booths marked for New Zealanders and Australians. It was an opportunity to exercise her mind: what time was it in New York?

Rodin mentally turned back the hands of the big wall clock in her parents' apartment sixteen hours, the time difference at that time of year: answer 3:30 in the afternoon of the day before. Wow, how complicated; little wonder unconfident people fear travelling.

She yawned and thinking that her brain lives!

"Move along lady," growled a huge man behind her, speaking in a foreign accent, perhaps French?

Rudeness was another reason some people avoid foreign travel. Then she remembered the rudeness of the deli owner at the base of her apartment building and all the other rude people she met every day and sighed, moving her two carry-bag forward in the gap that had opened up in front of her, complying with the reasonable request of the man behind.

She turned and smiled at him, "Thank you." He looked startled and managed a little easing of muscle around the mouth.

Her USA passport was stamped and she was on her way by bus to the 'domestic' terminal a short distance away.

Rodin's mother was a Kiwi (New Zealander), and for each of her three pregnancies had returned to that country for the birth under the care of her mother, a career midwife.

Rodin's father had insisted his children be foremost Americans and had them issued with US passports. Although she'd later secured a New Zealand passport, Rodin knew she would have gone through Customs faster if she had presented it. But why the rush, to sit a little longer waiting for her internal flight to Taupo?

At last her flight was called, and Rodin began the final leg of her journey to hopefully find peace and happiness.

It needed a mind-shift to adjust from earlier flights on big jets to the 19-seater turbo-prop airplane but she liked small planes. The interesting flight from Auckland with clear-day views was completed in just short of forty-five minutes, views that captured the what the eye saw, to be remembered.

She gazed at harbours, saw-toothed coastline washed by relentless waves, blue hazed-dimmed hills, fields that were so green they had to be called verdant and eventually the destination jewels of the 234 square mile Lake Taupo, a submerged volcanic crater. Close by were the summer-dressed trio of slumbering active volcanoes called Tongariro, Ngauruhoe and the tallest with its snow crest was Ruapehu, at just over 9000 feet.

Finally, after a smooth landing and no-fuss exit, she was safe in her Aunt Jessie's arms, both bawling, oblivious to everyone else.

"We're so, so sorry, Rodin."

"I know and you said it with flowers and phone calls."

"He was such a lovely man. Race car driving is such a dangerous sport." Jessie burst into tears again, sobbing, "I was so looking forward to you two staying with us on your honeymoon."

Rodin, a little shaky herself, calmed by her mother's younger sister and walked with her to sit over coffee.

"Aunt Jessie..."

"Call me Jessie love. I'm only eight years your senior."

"Mum sends her love and asked me to give you this as soon as I saw you." Rodin reached into her handbag to extract an 8-inch long gift-wrapped parcel.

"Oh, how sweet. What is it?"

The question was unanswered.

Jessie tore at the wrapping, opened the blue velvet box and stared in astonishment. She was looking at her sister's most precious possession, a diamond necklace, a family heirloom.

Rodin's great-great-grandmother, Sarah Ironmonger, had been given the necklace in England by a widowed uncle by marriage, Lord Reacher. Sarah, a hospital nurse, had been engaged privately to care for Lord Reacher, or Charlie as he was known within the family, while he slowly recovered from a horrendous riding accident when his horse stumbled and went down, rolling on to him after failing to complete a jump over a high rock wall.

Sarah worked to get him walking again, massaging his legs and back hourly every four whenever she was on duty and with longer gaps between the massaging at night for several months. She's managed to convince Charlie to endure the pain and inconvenience, being emphatic that the doctors were wrong and she claimed that he'd walk again.

The contact between Charlie and his indefatigable Nurse Sarah ended in January 1903 in London when Lord Reacher limped unassisted to farewell his beloved Sarah, who was in the waiting room with her husband Phillip and some of Charlie's family relatives. It was there that Charlie handed Sarah his deceased wife's necklace, much to the envy of other female relatives.

"Jessie, mom said to tell you she's had this necklace to treasure for four years since Grandma Jane's (the late Sarah's daughter) death. She'd like you to enjoy it for four years before returning it to her."

"Oh, that's so typically generous of Polly. I'll write to her tonight. We must get it valued for insurance purposes before we leave here."

Over lunch, Rodin studied her aunt. At eight years older than her, Jessie MacDonald looked older than her thirty-three years. Although redheads were difficult to pin-point age, it must be the freckles, the signs of premature ageing would be due to Jessie's hard life as a veterinarian and the hard environment on the high-country plateau.

She specialized in horses and that was a little unusual for a female vet, according to Rodin's mother. She'd said horses were heavy work, even though Jessie worked with an assistant, a sturdy mentally-slow young man called Frank.

Jessie had lovely green eyes and a bright personality, and still appeared to be young at heart. She and husband Tony, also a vet, had visited the Moon's in Manhattan just under a year ago. That's when they'd met Rodin's fiancée Sebastian Paul, a civilian helicopter pilot whose passion was racing sports cars.

"Your father is still controversial from what I read," Jessie smiled. "I occasionally see on websites letters to the editor of New York newspapers. Only recently he was calling a so-called critical review in the 'New York Times' of a special exhibition of modern European sculpture as...let me think... 'patently absurd drivel of someone with the critique intellect of a junior school art teacher'."

"That's my dad," Rodin said proudly.

Her flamboyant father, Theo Moon, was a sculptor of note.

By day from noon to closing time, he operated a very successful art dealership for emerging artists of merit in various media. Jessie's mother Polly Moon specialized in accelerating the skills of promising young students of the violin.

Rodin thought sourly that she'd walked away from her life as art director at a high- profile advertising agency three months ago when her world crashed around her and she was unlikely to ever be so happy again.

Her fiancée Sebastian's car exploded in flames and he died minutes later when being placed into a rescue vehicle. His blue and yellow Porsche had been hit by another car coming out of a bend, clipping Sebastian's car and pushing it under braking at right-angles into the path of two other accelerating cars that had no chance of avoiding smashing into the spinning Porsche.

"Polly was very lucky to find a man like Theo. Those two are made for one another," Jessie mused, sinking her teeth into a coconut slice.

It was funny to hear Jessie, who lived 8500 miles away saying that, thought her niece. That's exactly what her parent's closest friends said about Jessie and her husband.

They spent time filling the big 4WD Japanese vehicle with supplies in the city as the rural veterinary practice was very rural, located in a tiny settlement on the uplands of the Central Plateau with its neighbouring mountains, and fabulous wilderness inhabited by wild horses and forest tramping territory.

The village had the ridiculous name of Iceland, dubbed that by a surveyor pitching a tent there 150 years ago and finding it impossible to hammer tent pegs into the icy ground during an abnormally bad period of freezing weather.

Jessie had told Theo on her first visit to New York some ten years ago, no one had attempted to change the name Iceland because residents were unbothered and few people knew the tiny township with a population that never had exceeded thirty existed without having to read its name and it wasn't on maps, except for very detailed geographical ones.

They set off for what Jessie called 'The Wops' about ninety-minutes away.

"Want to drive?"

"Err, it scares me seeing vehicles approach on the wrong side of the highway."

"To us driving on the left is right."

They laughed.

"Go on, but not unless you're confident."

Jessie found no problem once she became used to being seated so high up compared with driving sedans. At home she either walked or rode in cabs but at weekends she drove her sports car and sometimes her father's luxurious Buick Enclave when going out with one or both of her parents. They recognized her as the families' best driver.

Once Jessie guided her and obtained increasing confidence in her foreign driver on to the Taupo-Napier highway. she fell asleep, increasing Rodin's confidence even further.

As the vehicle climbed the gentle incline the countryside changed from greens to browns and the trees seemed to be more stunted at higher altitude, and the population density also dropped away sharply, houses appearing with increasing distances between them.

They were in 'High Chaparral' type of country, Rodin mused, sheep and cattle country. The highway was first-class with few vehicles to pass or having to be passed.

"Welcome to really rural New Zealand," she whispered.

Polly her mother had urged her to come here. She'd taken Rodin into her arms and played her like a violin, beginning smoothly and softly, telling her daughter it was time to get on with her life, that her grieving had to be put aside like something in a dresser that over time worked down to the bottom drawer where it stayed and yet was remembered.

Rodin had squirmed in her mother's arms, resisting this intrusion, not wanting to hear any more. But her mother played on, becoming stronger voiced and ignoring the resistance and finally, when Rodin was entirely open emotionally, the coaxing ended in stirring climax, "I'm sending you into retreat."

Her daughter's resistance sagged.

Oh dear, thought Rodin, recalling that moment. Rarely had she felt so vulnerable. She'd answered her mother, "What do you mean?"

"I'm sending you to Aunt Jessie. As you know, she's younger than me and very lively. Besides, her career is aimed at treating and curing the injured. She'll know what to do."

Rodin recalled with a smile, her bottom lip had trembled, when she looked at her mother and said, "But she treats animals, not people" and her mother blithely saying oh, was there much difference?

By then, acknowledging she was becoming use to the idea of leaving home, Rodin replied, she didn't really know but anyway, leaving New York seemed to a great idea if she were to find some happiness again.

"Call Jessie now," her mother had said firmly.

"What now?"

"Yes."

The call was made and Jessie was thrilled and urged Rodin to take a flight out from JFK that day. Rodin said she would have to talk to her manager about further extending her leave of absence and to make other arrangements.

Jessie had been wonderful.

"Whatever, only do it fast, young woman. I'm so excited about you coming to be with me I don't want you changing your mind."

On the phone Rodin had suddenly remembered there was a time difference and, embarrassed, asked Jessie what time was it in New Zealand.

"Almost 3:00 in the morning, but think nothing of it. You may phone me whenever you wish, Rodin. I won't ask to talk to Polly. Just pass on kisses to her; I want to remember this call as a very important call from you, one that may change your life. It's possible you'll never return to New York to live and keep that possibility in mind. It may be the biggest seduction of your entire life."

"What?"

"Just think about it darling, and be prepared. Then again you may decide to vamoose out of here within a week. Who knows, who wants to know?"

Well, that was Aunt Jessie. She could become very confusing at times. Rodin's mother often said Jessie's mind seemed to bubble at times and run away on her.

When they'd turned on to the Taupo-Napier Highway, Jessie had asked how many miles would it be to the turn-off to Iceland. Rodin, noticing they'd driven that distance and she'd not seen the turnoff, thought about shaking Jessie awake but decided to continue another few miles, and there it was, Rewa Rewa Road.

It was a T-junction; no need to decide which way to turn as the only turn was to the right.

Rodin drove on thinking a route that narrow could only lead to a village and just over ten miles later she arrived in Iceland and parked in front of a building called a tavern but Jessie had called it a pub.

She'd boggled when parking in dirt and saw just along from her two horses tied to a hitching rail. She was in the Wild West, although it didn't look wild and she had no idea which quadrant of the compass she was in.

Rodin sat reading one of the magazines she'd purchased in Taupo. Finally, Jessie stirred and yawned said, Oh God, we've stopped. You're waiting for instructions were to go." She lifted up in her seat and said, "I'll be dammed. Well done Rodin; you're amazing. Come in and I'll buy you a beer."

They went into the badly lit bar and conversation stopped as if a hold-up was taking place.

The four men and one woman leaning on the bar turned to stare as did the barmaid with a gaping neckline and no bra. All of the men wore boots and the woman had riding spurs attached to her boots. Three of them wore Stetsons.

This was the Wild West!

Rodin then realized the eyes were on her, not Jessie. Oh God, stranger in town. Reach for it, stranger!

But that's not what happened. The youngest male, aged perhaps eighteen, called to her, "What can I buy you Blondie?"

"Gavin, blue eyes would prefer to drink with me," snorted the oldest male, sporting a real beer belly.

Gavin backed down, turned in embarrassment and looked down the barmaid's top.

Jessie said quietly, "Shut up you bar flies and be polite to my niece, Rodin."

The guys almost snapped to attention but relaxed when the dark-skinned woman, Rodin guessing she was part-Maori, introduced herself as Hine and drawled, "Rodin, what kind of name is that?"

"About on a par with your name."

Everyone including Hine laughed at Jessie's wit.

Jessie identified the men from the left as Gavin, Hec (Hector), Harry and Beer-Belly had the grand name of Frederick and Jessie said, "Hine you already know and behind the bar is Gloria."

"My niece Rodin Moon is in mourning, guys, so no teasing and no abuse, otherwise you answer to me."

"Okay Jessie, keep your hat on," Frederick said. "Sorry about the loss of your husband, Rodin. Cancer?"

"Thanks. Actually, he was killed in a racing car accident and he was my fiancée, three weeks away from our wedding."

"Racing car smash!" two of the guys chorused, suddenly very interested.

"Shut up," Frederick ordered, and taking off his Stetson said, "My condolences Miss Rodin."

The others stood straight, those with hats removing them, and repeated those words. Gloria mumbled something, standing with a hand over her cleavage.

"Thank you, that was very touching," Rodin said. "Gloria, I'm buying for the bar and have one for yourself."

A gap opened up and Rodin was invited to join them. "You too," Hine called to Jessie.

Jessie and Rodin stayed only twenty minutes but it was virtually twenty minutes of full on cultural shock for Rodin.

Hine was amazed to learn that Rodin could ride a horse and said she'd bring a saddled mare for her tomorrow and ride with her.

"Hine's scared of ghosts of the celebrated Maori chiefs who've passed on over the centuries so never rides alone," Hec grinned (he had a business relationship with Hine and broke in her wild horses that she purchased occasionally).

Hine turned on him and snapped, "Apologize Hec otherwise I'll have your balls for dinner."

Hec apologized smartly, holding both hands over his crotch.

"Jessie's the Mayor of Iceland," Rodin was told. "She's done wonderful things for our small community but the honorary title was conferred five years ago for other endeavours. She and husband Tony worked at inoculating sheep around here after an imported ram developed a mysterious ailment, thought to be scabies."

"Tony lasted almost twenty-four hours working almost non-stop but Jessie continued on gamely until inoculating the last ewe in her twenty-seventh hour on the job and then just dropped face down in the dirt, dead asleep."

"That's enough of your stupid stories Harry," Jessie said, but Hine looked straight at Rodin in the bar mirror and told her that was the truth.

"You're sure pretty, Rodin."

Hine glared at Gavin. "Shut your mouth, Gavin."

"Shut yours," Frederick ordered. "Go on, have your say Gavin, Hine should know this bar-room is a democracy."

"Well, Rodin, I'm nineteen and I've never seen a prettier woman in this district in all my time."

"And I'm fifty-six and can endorse that statement," Frederick said. "Tell Rodin what it means Gavin."

"People are scattered over this vast district, there's not many of us. Many of them will come into Iceland just to look at you Rodin."

Rodin looked shocked and turned to Jessie to have that stupid statement rebutted but Jessie just shrugged, helplessly.

"I can't believe this, it's the 21st Century. People get around these days and have TV, satellite TV gets to remote places doesn't it?"

"Living in remote areas gives you a special feeling about life and about people," Gloria said. "Some people live here wanting semi-isolation for their own reasons. It also teaches you self-sufficiency. One tends to be in touch with the forces and the spirit of nature."

"If you live here, rarely going out to civilization of the big cities, you tend only to see beauty in nature. On the other hand. there are no art galleries here or beautiful houses, castles, ships and whatever. A beauty like you is unknown to we people of the land in this region."

It was Rodin's turn to look helpless.

Jessie and her niece left a few minutes later to a warm farewell.

"We promise to see more of you Rodin, and by that we don't mean in the bath," Hec joked, drawing grins.

As the two women continued on their way, Jessie, the honorary Mayor driving said, "Well, welcome to our oddball community. You fell into it rather than wandered in slowly. It must have been quite a shock."

"Like landing on a different planet. I suppose."

They laughed.

"Those horses are Hec's and Hine's. She prefers riding with someone.

Rodin eyed the horses.

"Then it's true..."

"If it is, leave it unsaid," Jessie interrupted. "It's a cultural thing. We turn right here and head down the road for five miles."

"I thought it your clinic was in town?"

"It is, there up ahead on the right. We only staff it in mornings. We live on a hobby farm."

"Oh, how sweet. How many acres?"

"Just on 500."

"Five hundred, that's huge."

"Not compared with Texas darling. Gloria lives almost opposite us and she has 28,000 acres, but that's not big for around here."