Currents of Change

by Darian Smith

  If this really was a date, she wanted to make a good impression. But it’d been years since she’d even thought about dating. What did women wear for dates these days? How dressed up should she be to go to a man’s house for dinner? Somehow a little black dress seemed too formal, but jeans and a t-shirt might look like she wasn’t interested.

  And, she admitted to herself, she was interested.

  Her feelings for Greg had evaporated long ago. Now that she’d broken the ties that had bound her to him, there was nothing but relief. Nate was part of her fresh start. Why shouldn’t she explore the possibility of a relationship with him? Or, at the very least, a friendship? What outfit could say all that and be date appropriate?

  “Okay,” she muttered. “Time to try on some clothes.”

  She headed toward the door when the lamp in the corner flickered. Sara stopped. Her chest tightened and the room seemed to tilt. She stumbled, catching herself on the back of the sofa to keep from falling.

  The lightbulb buzzed like a wasp in a jar, louder and louder, as though the insect was rattling between her ears, until the sound separated out into words and voices. “Come here. Help us. Come to us.”

  The floor gave way and her legs plunged into cold water, the shock of it sending sparks of alarm throughout her body.

  “Let us out,” the buzzing whispered. “Set us free.”

  “Stop that!” She shook her head and forced the voices out. The light fell back into a steady glow, and the sound stopped.

  Gasping for breath, Sara straightened up and looked around. The room was as it was. Her legs were dry. Nothing had changed.

  Almost nothing.

  As she turned, Sara saw a figure in the doorway. She wore a striped bodice, high necked blouse, long, deep green skirt, her hair up in a tight bun, a rifle in her left hand. Bridget stepped forward into the light. Her skin was pale, almost paper white. Her hair was the colour of whipped shadows and her eyes glowed a phosphorescent green.

  “Do not trust them,” she said, her voice breathy and hoarse. “Read my words.”

  Then she vanished in a shower of sparks.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sara still felt shaken as she arrived at Nate and Abigail’s house. Her pulse had been a living thing in her ears as she’d gotten ready for the date. There’d been no further sign of strangeness and her dizzy spell had completely gone, but, try as she might, she couldn’t dismiss what she’d seen. The stories about Bridget haunting the house...well, they weren’t just stories.

  She took a deep breath. For all that it’d been scary, there seemed no reason to think Bridget wanted to harm her. Or perhaps her years with Greg had left her jaded to the potential for harm. She gave a cynical laugh. Compared to him, a disembodied spirit didn’t seem so bad.

  Bridget’s warning about trust was ambiguous at best. Chances are, whomever the spirit was worried about was long dead anyway. But if she wanted Sara to read her diary - well, that was easy enough.

  After her date.

  “She’s waited a couple hundred years already. One more night isn’t gonna kill her,” Sara muttered to herself as she stepped up to the door. She straightened her back, smoothed out the sleeveless top she’d worn over a floral skirt, and knocked.

  A moment later the door opened to reveal a side of Nate she hadn’t seen before. He’d obviously showered and dressed up for the occasion, making her glad she’d believed her grandmother’s advice about it being a date. He wore dress pants and a blue shirt that brought out the colour in his eyes. His hair was still damp and brushed in a dark sweep back from his forehead and the smell of spicy cologne mixed with a delicious aroma of roast tomatoes and cheese and something else that made her mouth water.

  He smiled when he saw her, and she couldn’t help but respond in kind. The warmth in his eyes soothed the tension she held tight inside her and she relaxed. Then his hand touched her shoulder as he ushered her inside, sending a jolt of searing heat through her skin.

  “I’m glad you made it,” he said and sounded like he meant it.

  Sara flushed and glanced away, quickly passing him to enter the room. “Something smells delicious.”

  “Thanks,” Nate said, closing the door and placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the kitchen area. He lifted one of two glasses of wine that were waiting and handed it to her. “I’m making lasagne. My speciality.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Wait until you taste it before you commit.”

  She smiled into her glass. It’d been a long time since anyone had cooked for her. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

  “I hope so. It’s been a while since I cooked for anyone but me and Abi.”

  Sara looked around. “Where is Abi?”

  “In bed. That’s why I suggested a late dinner. I wanted us to have some adult time.”

  Sara raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  He laughed, his face flushing adorably. “Not like that! I just mean it will be nice for us to be able to talk without having to worry what she’s up to.”

  Sara laughed too. “I know what you mean. After a day looking after kids, it was always nice to converse with grownups. Abi’s a great kid though. You must be very proud.”

  “I am.” There was no trace of anything but warmth in his voice. “Very much.”

  Sara watched as he slipped on oven mitts, pulled the sizzling, deep dish lasagne from the oven, then served it onto plates next to a salad. He shook up a bottle of dressing and deftly drizzled just enough over the rocket leaves and cherry tomatoes.

  “I thought we could eat outside,” he said, handing her one of the plates. “It’s a warm night. Plus, it’ll be kinder on your allergies. The cat spends most of his time sleeping on the dining room chairs.”

  “That sounds nice,” she said, and started to follow him when something on the wall stopped her in her tracks. It was the sketch she’d done of Abigail, framed and hanging in pride of place in the lounge.

  She put the plate back down on the bench. “Where did you get that?”

  Nate turned back to see what she was pointing at and his face flushed red. “Oh. I saw it and it was so good that...I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

  Sara frowned. “I threw it out.”

  “Yeah. But Abigail loves it so much and so do I. You really are talented, you know.” He dipped his head a little to catch her eye. “Is it okay? I didn’t think you wanted it.”

  Sara swallowed. “Um...yeah, I guess. I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” She picked up her plate again and followed him out onto the veranda, trying to sort through her feelings as she did so.

  She’d never expected to have her art appreciated up here. Never thought to show it to anyone. Certainly not yet. To think that Nate had found something she’d discarded as not good enough and had it framed and hung in his home gave her a shocking warm feeling inside. He liked what she’d done. He meant it. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “That’s quite a compliment.”

  Nate shrugged. “Well, it’s true.”

  As they stepped out onto the veranda, she saw a small picnic table had been laid with cutlery and flowers and a few dozen tea-light candles were scattered around, giving the whole area a warm, flickering glow. The fragrance of freesias and daphne was still in the night air and the stars twinkled overhead like sparkling confetti.

  “This is beautiful,” Sara said, putting her plate down and taking a seat.

  Nate helped her with her chair, then sat opposite. “It seems to be going around,” he said, with a nod in her direction.

  She laughed. “Cheesy.”

  “But true again.”

  They ate quietly for a while, the sound of cicadas and the occasional morepork providing background music in the darkness. The food was a symphony of rich flavours, each bite more tasty than the last.

  “This is so good,” Sara said at last.

  “I considered being a chef at one point,” Nate said. “But didn’t fancy the hours. I’m too much
of a family man at heart. I wouldn’t want to miss evenings at home.”

  “Fair enough. Did you grow up in Kowhiowhio? Or was somewhere else home originally?”

  “Born in Auckland but left the big smoke when I got married. Emma’s Iwi were from up here and she wanted to be close to her family and land and all that. They’re Abi’s iwi too, so I stuck around. It’s a nice town when you get used to it.”

  Sara washed down a bite of lasagne with a sip of wine. “I’m sure.”

  “How do you think you’re settling in? Aside from the obvious.”

  “The obvious being Moana’s little vendetta? Yeah, I think I’m settling in okay. It’s...not what I’m used to.” She thought about all the strange occurrences that had taken place at the house. “It’s been strange.”

  “How so?”

  Sara stared into the darkness beyond the candles, wondering just what to say.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked quietly.

  Nate hesitated, his head tilting to one side. “I believe people see and feel what they need to about the ones they’ve lost.” He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip before setting it down with a shrug. “For a long time after Emma died, I could feel her presence with me. I had no idea what to do with the life we had made together or how to raise our daughter on my own. I needed her spirit to be there. It helped me. For a while. And then it didn’t.”

  Sara reached out and touched his hand with hers. “What happened then?”

  He put his other hand over hers. “I got over it. Eventually. It took a long time though and Moana was a huge support to us during that time. She...she took Abigail for a while. When I couldn’t cope. I think maybe she still thinks of me as not coping. But...it was a long time ago now.”

  Sara nodded slowly. “Do you still feel Emma’s presence?”

  “No.” Nate shook his head. “I still talk to her now and then, and think about what she would say, but no. She’s gone.” He looked up from their hands and gave a wry smile. “She believed though. I know that much. Her family are the spiritual leaders in the tribe. She was considered a kuia.”

  Sara’s eyes widened. “She must have been very young for the title. I thought that was reserved for older, wise women.”

  “It is.” Nate’s eyes grew unfocussed as he stared into the past. “She had a lot of mana for someone her age. There was just something about her.” He blinked and looked back at Sara. “Reminds me of you in that way. I think she would have liked you.”

  Sara snorted. “Not if her sister’s anything to go by.”

  “Ha! Emma and Moana were nothing alike. Believe me, I chose the right sister.”

  Sara felt her smile fade. “Well, I guess you were better at choosing than I was.”

  Nate’s eyes met hers, gentle and strong. “What happened with you and your ex?”

  “I...” She tried to put on the brave face. The fake smile. The oh-it’s-nothing-just-a-little-accident-I’m-totally-okay mask she’d worn for all her friends and colleagues and family for so long. She tried but it didn’t fit her any more. She didn’t want to hide what had happened. Not from herself. Not from Nate.

  “I fell in love and he hit me,” she said. The words were somehow a relief to say. She took a deep breath and continued. “He hit me a lot, actually. I always made an excuse for it. He was stressed – we both were. He was apologetic after. He loved me. I loved him. Then after a while there was no excuse any more but I still couldn’t make myself leave. The excuses were for me after that. We were financially committed to whatever house project we were working on at the time and it would be too hard to leave.”

  She glanced up at Nate. His expression was thoughtful, sympathetic. She’d expected anger or frustration. Maybe even disgust.

  “That sounds incredibly hard,” he said. “How did you manage to get out?”

  She bit her lip. This next part was the hardest. “My latest reason for staying was that I got pregnant. I thought maybe the idea of being a father would change him somehow.” She shook her head. It sounded so stupid out loud. “It didn’t. I...ended up in hospital a couple of times. Lot of bruises and then a late term miscarriage.”

  “Oh God.” Nate reached across the table to hold her hand.

  “When the baby died I realised what a fool I’d been. We’d just sold our most recent house project so I took the car and my share of the money and I ran. There’s a protection order against him but he still texts and tries to phone me every day.”

  “You know that’s not your fault, right?”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Him hitting you. The baby. All of it.”

  She stared at the table. Suddenly it seemed ridiculous but she did think it was her fault. “If I’d been stronger,” she started, “then my baby might have...”

  Nate shook his head. “No. That’s not true. I know it’s easy to think that – believe me, I know. When Emma died, I kept questioning over and over what I should have done differently so that she wouldn’t be on that road at that time. But the truth is, nothing I did put that truck in her path. It just was. And nothing you did caused this. It just is.”

  He stood up and came around the table and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. The warmth of him seemed to penetrate her chest and spread from her heart to fill every cell of her body. The smell of him filled her lungs, comforting and kind. This time there was no stopping the flow of tears as he held her. But they were soft, gentle tears. A letting go and a mourning, not the uncontrollable wailing she’d feared for so long.

  Nate held her as she cried, and she clung to him like an anchor, a grounding influence in the world of abuse and ghosts and madness. The tears cleansed her. When they stopped, she felt released.

  She stepped back, wiping her eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fall apart on you again.”

  Nate reached up and brushed a damp strand of hair from her face. “You didn’t. You’ve been incredibly strong for a long time. It’s fine to lean on someone else for a while.”

  “Thank you.” She found her hand somehow stroking his chest as if it belonged there. The muscles beneath his shirt were hard and strong.

  “No problem.” His fingers traced down her arm, a tingling trail of heat. “How about I go get us some dessert?”

  She smiled. “Sounds good.”

  Nate disappeared inside the house and Sara waited, hugging herself and trying to analyse the date.

  Her emotional outpouring notwithstanding, she felt that things were going well. Nate seemed an even nicer guy than she’d thought and had been understanding and able to put her at ease when talking about her history. Perhaps discussing their past relationships wasn’t recommended first date practice, but they’d known each other for a little while now so it made sense that they deepen their knowledge of each other tonight.

  She wondered how much to tell him about what had been happening at the house. Should she mention Bridget’s ghost having made an appearance earlier today? Or would that be the thing that snuffed out the understanding in his eyes? She couldn’t help thinking she’d pushed her luck too much already.

  “Stop being so serious about every damn thing, Sara,” she muttered to herself. “It’s a date. Just have fun.”

  How did people have fun on dates these days? And what was it her grandmother had said? “Just get back on the horse.”

  Could she? It’d been a while since she’d “been on the horse” so to speak. Greg hadn’t touched her in that way since she’d gotten pregnant and he’d been the only man to do so in a long time. Perhaps it was time to fully purge him from her system.

  There was no denying that she found Nate attractive. The sensation of his touch was still on her skin. He was a nice guy. They both deserved a little “adult time” and she needed to feel wanted again.

  She took a deep breath and popped the uppermost button on her top. Time to give it a shot.

  Nate walked back out with a parfait glass in each hand, brimming with cream and berries and choco
late sauce.

  “Wow,” said Sara. “You really did want to be a chef, didn’t you?”

  Nate laughed. “Too much? I wanted to impress you a little bit.”

  She chuckled. “You succeeded. And not just with the food.”

  He set the desserts on the table and smiled. “Good. I’m glad.” He took her hands in his, the coolness of fingers that had been holding chilled desserts seemed to burn with tingling fire. “I wanted to say how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know you recently. I’m glad you came to Kowhiowhio. I’m glad you’re here, with me, tonight.”

  Sara’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. Her voice came out in a strange, hoarse whisper. “So am I.”

  He leaned closer, and she felt his breath on her cheek for an instant and then, gently, his lips touched hers, warm and firm. A spark of electric thrill ran through her core, filling her with excitement. Her breath stopped and her heart fluttered like fairy wings in her chest. His arms slipped around her waist and held her close. Her own hands slipped around his back and up to his broad shoulders, feeling the play of muscle under his shirt.

  After what seemed a much too short eternity, he straightened up. The cool night air brushed over her naked lips, tingling each millimetre his had touched.

  “Mmmm,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do that all week.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Sara said, finding her voice again. Her grandmother’s words were ringing in her mind. Get back on the horse. Might as well go for it. “Very glad.”

  She stepped up to his body and pressed herself against him. Her breasts rubbed into his chest, nipples hard and rough. She slipped her hands under his shirt, one sliding up over the skin of his back, the other down, into the waistband of his pants.

  Nate’s whole body went stiff. “Um...” he said.

  Sara jerked back, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh God. You don’t want to.” She stepped backward, putting the table between them. “Oh, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry.”

  Nate reached out as if to touch her but she was too far away. “It’s not that. I like you a lot. A heck of a lot. But Abi is in the house and there hasn’t been anyone since Emma and...I just thought...maybe if we take things slower?”