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Where My Heart Resides

By Terri Wangard

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Valerie Scholl sniffed the air as she crossed between the airplane and the jetway. It didn’t smell any different. But then, what should New Zealand smell like? Sheep? Not at the Wellington airport.
No matter. She was in a foreign country! New Zealand didn’t have an Eiffel Tower, or Big Ben, or Rhine River castles, but it was even further away from the United States than those icons.
This visit would surely be an adventure. Maybe she would even find a new friend her own age so she wouldn’t have to spend the whole time hanging out with two older ladies.
Grandma searched the crowd as soon as they cleared customs. “I hope Alice is here. Do you see her, dear?”
The last photo Valerie had seen of Grandma’s pen pal had been taken before Alice’s husband had died. They’d been so happy, celebrating their fifty-fifth anniversary. Since his death, Alice had been lost in grief. Fading away in her sorrow, Grandma said. She might look considerably older now.
“Oh, there she is.” Grandma waved wildly, nearing smacking another arrival in his face. “Alice! Alice!”
She scooted through the crowd with more vigor than a jet-lagged seventy-eight-year-old had a right to. Valerie hoisted her purse securely on her shoulder, grasped Grandma’s abandoned carry-on and her own, and got them rolling in the right direction. Just call her a pack horse. After all, that’s why she’d accompanied Grandma on her trip to the other side of the world. Surviving airports stood at the top of the list of assistance she could offer.
Grandma wrapped her arms around a petite woman whose white hair held a hint of blue. Alice Kane clung to her, tears oozing from eyes squeezed shut. Then she held her back at arm’s length.
“It’s so good to see you, Nancy. Life hasn’t been the same without Henry.” She dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief, and reached out to Valerie. “And you must be Valerie. You resemble the first photograph of your grandmother that she sent me. I’m glad you came too. We’ll visit all the interesting places New Zealand has to offer. I promise you won’t be bored.”
“I’m excited to be here. I’ve never been so far from home.”
“We’ve been traveling for over twenty-four hours. Goodness, I had no idea sitting still would be so exhausting.” Grandma blinked at her watch. “And now it’s tomorrow already. What is the local time?”
The two elderly ladies headed for the exit, leaving Valerie to follow with their luggage. She chuckled, watching them chatter. Hard to believe this was only the second time in their lives they’d met face to face. Their friendship was based on sixty plus years as correspondents.
She resembled Grandma’s first photograph when they started writing at age fifteen? She laughed out loud. At age twenty-six, did she really look like a fifteen-year-old?
Her mood darkened. Maybe that’s why Ryan always lectured her on the right way to do everything from driving her car to talking to people in the church foyer. Ending their courtship had been the right thing to do. They would never have been happy together. Now was the perfect time for a getaway. He wouldn’t bother her if he banged on her door.
Outside, a breeze swept away her gloomy thoughts. The Wellington runway stretched between Cook Strait and a bay, and they’d flown in over the strait, unable to see land until tall hills appeared. Now she spotted houses perched in the hills. Anticipation shivered through her. She was on the other side of the world, the first time she’d needed a passport!
On the drive to Alice’s townhouse, Valerie kept her nose to the window. Alice’s home overlooked a large bay. A sandy beach ringed the bay, and a fountain in its midst shot a stream of water skyward. Late September meant cool, autumn days at home in Wisconsin, but here in the Southern Hemisphere, spring was in bloom. Three yards in a row overflowed with bright pink rose bushes. Yellow tulips lined a driveway. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Palm trees! How exotic.
Valerie calculated the temperature. Thirteen degrees Celsius equaled something less than fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Of course, her formula of thirteen times two plus thirty-two wasn’t exact. The correct formula would be thirteen times a fraction, but she didn’t do fractions in her head.
Always had to do everything her own way, is what Ryan would say.
Fifty-eight degrees was close enough, and not a temperature to attract many people to the shore. No matter. A sweatshirt would keep her warm even with shorts so she could test the water. She was eager to go.
The ladies were settling in for a visit. “Is it okay if I head down to the beach?”
Alice set down her cup of tea. “Of course, dear. Just remember that when you watch for traffic, we drive on the left side of the road.”
Valerie hastened down the hill, glancing back often to familiarize herself with the return route back. Finally, she jumped off the retaining wall and sank into the sand of Oriental Bay. She couldn’t see the ocean. More hills rose across the bay. That was fine. She was in New Zealand. She wanted to squeal her delight, but no, she would be the dignified American. Instead, she removed her sandals and trotted down the beach to dip her toes in the water.
#
Luke Landry strummed a few chords and winced. No one would ever accuse him of being a guitarist. Somehow, the idea of playing a guitar on the beach had seemed like a good idea. Like one of those old beach party movies. In the movies, the guy knew how to play the silly thing, and a girl was ready to cuddle up with him. Alas, he had no talent and no girl.
With a sigh, he set the guitar aside against a turret of the sandcastle he’d sat beside. Someone had been ambitious. The castle sported turrets on all four corners with a taller tower in the middle. A moat surrounded the whole.
Pulling up his knees, he wrapped his arms around his legs and watched the people. A young couple with eyes only for each other strolled by. An older man stood near the shore, hands behind his back, contemplating life, or maybe what he’d have for dinner. A young woman frolicked in the water, her sandals clutched in her hands. Luke searched the beach. She seemed to be alone.
The woman paused and gazed up and down the beach. She started walking, still in the water. Two large dogs bound ahead of their owner and stopped to make her acquaintance. Hmm. She must prefer small dogs. After a gingerly pat on one’s head, she angled away from the water, trying to avoid the dogs. They pursued her, despite a shrill whistle calling them back.
As she neared the sandcastle, one beast lunged to lick her hand. Keeping her eyes on the beast, she hurriedly stepped back. Her left foot dropped into the moat. Arms flailing, she lost her balance.
As though in slow motion, Luke watched her fall. His breath caught in his throat. The guitar slid down, beneath her. She landed on it with a thud and jolted into stillness. The old guitar splintered into smithereens. One piece sliced the side of her knee, just below her plaid shorts. A drop of crimson blood welled up and slid into the sand.
Stunned by the sudden mishap, he jerked his gaze to her face. Chocolate brown locks of hair lay swirled across her face. With her wrist, she pushed it aside, her hand being coated with sand. Cornflower blue eyes blinked at him.
The dogs nosed in, ready to play. Their owner rushed up and pulled on their collars. “I apologize for Orion and Zeus. They’re quite friendly and mean no harm.”
“S’okay.” She appeared to be in shock.
Luke finally scrambled to his feet. Pushing aside guitar fragments, he helped her sit up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
About to deny any injury, she spotted the trickle of blood and her face paled. She raised her other hand, tangled in the guitar strings and bridge. “Oh, dear.”
Luke retrieved his Swiss army knife from his pocket. She shrank back, and he held up his hand. “Not to worry. I’ll just cut away this mess and free you.”
She shifted and tugged the broken neck out from under her. “I’ve smashed your guitar.” Her voice held wonder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was my grandfather’s. He could make it sing. Me? I make it beg to be put out of its misery. I should thank you for obliging it.”
A tremulous smile lit her face, although her brows arced, like she didn’t quite believe him. She retrieved a tissue from her shorts pocket and blotted up the blood. Taking a deep breath, she held it for a moment before releasing it. “You’re an American.”
“Guilty as charged.” Luke smiled. “So are you.”
She nodded. “Just arrived today. We left home yesterday.” She frowned. “Or the day before. No, we lost a day in there.”
“Crossing the international date line, yes. You’ll gain it back if you return.” If? Why had he said if? “Where is home?”
“Wisconsin. And you?”
“I grew up in California, but I live here now.” He helped her stand. “Are you sure you’re all right? You didn’t turn your ankle in the moat?”
For the first time, she noticed the castle. “Oh, and I’ve smashed your castle, too.”
Luke chuckled. “I’m not the builder. Only an admirer who sat down beside it.”
She brushed sand from her clothes. “You’re really not planning on going home?”
“My grandparents used to winter here.” Her eyes widened and he nodded. “Yes, going to Arizona for winter was too mundane for them. They came here. Granddad said it was like going back to the fifties. Anyway, they’ve both passed on now, and I inherited their house. I came with the intention of selling it, but found I like it here. I even found a job. I want to stay.”
“What about your family?” Her color rose. She must think him married. “They came with you.”
“No, I’m here alone. My parents and siblings live in Southern California. I’m not close to them. And I grew up in Riverside, which is too polluted, too dry, and too crowded, the opposite of New Zealand.”
“Being by the ocean means smog is blown away.”
“You got it.” He studied her eyes. She still seems dazed or, more likely, jet lagged. “Are you staying in a motel nearby?”
“No.” She pivoted and pointed, her finger wavering until she nodded. “Right there. My grandmother and I are staying with her pen pal. Grandma’s likely resting now.”
“You didn’t want to?”
She offered a delicate shrug. “Someone told me to jump right into the local time. Not to give in to jet lag. Her exact word was she doesn’t subscribe to it.”
“Well, good for her.” Luke gave his words a kick of sarcasm. “Resting for an hour isn’t a bad idea. It would sharpen your senses. After all, if you stay up until, say, ten o’clock, you’ve still got seven hours to go.”
As if on cue, she yawned. “Oh, excuse me. And if my senses were sharp, I wouldn’t be tripping over sandcastles and smashing guitars.”
Luke looked up and down the beach. “Considering these are the only castle and guitar out here, I’d say you show a particular talent for finding them.”
She laughed. “Thank you, I think. I really am sorry about your guitar.”
“Don’t be. The blame belongs to Zeus, Orion, and their owner. Those dogs should have been on leashes. Besides, I planned on giving it to a friend’s son. He might have gotten a kick out of it. Of course, his parents would probably thank you for destroying it.”
Blood continued to trickle. “Looks like it’s time for me to head back and rest. Or at least get patched up.”
After she headed for the nearest steps up the retaining wall, Luke picked up all the guitar pieces and dumped them in the trash. His head snapped up and he searched the surrounding streets. She was nowhere in sight. He sighed and kicked his foot in the sand. “Why didn’t I ask her name?”

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