Page 11 of The Geography of Happiness

A few kilometres later, when the road made a sweeping turn out of the valley and started its run alongside the sparkling sapphire of Lake Tekapo, I pulled over to drink in the view and just breathe for a minute.

I cut the engine and let the mountains fill my head.

Cool air licked at my cheeks and I tilted my face skyward. Another hawk called somewhere in the distance, water lapped over stones at the lake’s edge, and the quietthump-thumpof my heart drummed in my ears. Feeling utterly alone, I waited for the familiar sense of unease to crawl over my skin, the itch to escape. It never came.

Alone time was a rare commodity in my life, and I seldom fought for it, preferring the distraction of people and noise. With a fourteen-year-old daughter, a business to run, volunteering at the school, and helping Judah with his dance classes, everyone took their slice of the pie and I never pushed back. Never said no.

It was a grand way to avoid your life.

Until you couldn’t anymore.

Until you found yourself in the middle of nowhere.

Until it rose up and slapped you in the face.

Until it asked where the hell you’d been.

Forty-five minutes later,I snagged a parking spot close to the main door of the Oakwood supermarket—a medium-sized retail outlet incorporating a small pharmacy, dry cleaner, and a chain coffee shop. The latter was enticing, but Gil had advised me to ignore all temptation and go straight to Meg’s Place on Main Street who, he assured me, had the best coffee in town.

My shopping list was quickly filled. The cottage was even better stocked than Gil had indicated. As well as what he mentioned, there was also seasonal produce and herbs from the station’s garden, a punnet of early strawberries from who the hell knew where, minced lamb, and a half-dozen lamb chops, courtesy of the station’s merinos I was betting. To those goodies I added Hannah’s favourite plum jam for her morning toast, a half-dozen cans of a locally brewed beer, juice, a selection of snacks, and a chicken.

A pink-haired teenager with a nose ring and clever grey eyes operated one of only two open checkouts. Chrissy, according to her badge, nailed me as a visitor straight off. As she deftly packed my groceries, she asked where I was staying, grinned at my answer, and told me Miller Station had the hottest guys around. I made a mental note to inform Gil and Holden of the station’s stellar reputation.

Chrissy went on to list all the best places in town to eat, including some place that did amazing barbecue. She then informed me she was on study leave with three exams left to sit, and wasn’t physics the absolute pits, a sentiment I happily agreed with. Small towns were small towns the world over. Oakwood might have a larger population than Painted Bay, but the nosy charm was still in evidence and retail outlets were still the hub of gossip, just like my hardware store back home.

Still smiling from the encounter, I wheeled my trolley to the ute and unloaded the shopping bags into the back seat. Then I jumped behind the wheel, consulted Google Maps for the whereabouts of Meg’s Place, and set course. The ute hadn’t backed more than two metres when frantic screams had me slamming on the brakes.

Chrissy appeared at my open window, eyes wide and gasping for breath. “Oh, thank God. I was sure you were going to run her over.” She tugged at the door handle and it swung open.

“Runwhoover?” I cut the engine and climbed out of the ute.

“Come and see.” Chrissy grabbed my hand and pulled me around to the back of the ute where she stopped abruptly, head snapping back and forth. “But—” She scanned the mostly empty carpark. “—where’s she gone?”

“Where’swhogone?” I persisted.

“Wait a minute.” Chrissy dropped to her knees and gasped. “Oh my god. Look.” She waved me down, and we both stared at the grey-and-brown bundle of canine cuteness cowering against my rear tyre.

“Holy shit. I could’ve killed it,” I whispered so I wouldn’t scare the pup. “Thank you so much for stopping me in time.”

“You’re welcome.” Chrissy blew a sigh of relief. “I saw her run across the car park while you were sitting in your truck. She’s been hanging around the last week or so, but she never lets anyone close. I brought a bit of dog food with me yesterday and left it on the ground under that tree.” She pointed to a cherry tree in the far corner of the lot. “It was gone this morning, but I don’t know whether she ate it or something else did.” She frowned. “I’m calling her a she, but I don’t really know for sure. I can’t get close enough. Looks young though. Maybe an adolescent.”

Watching the quivering animal, I agreed. Not much older than six months if I had to guess. And he or she was an unusual colour—a salt-and-pepper grey with random patches of brown.

“Chrissy!” A middle-aged man with long sideburns and a balding head beckoned from the entrance to the supermarket. “We need you at checkout.”

“Give me five, Brian,” Chrissy returned over her shoulder without even looking. “We’ve got a small emergency here.”

Brian stared a moment longer, then grumbled, “Consider it your break, then.”

As he headed back, Chrissy muttered, “Arsehole.”

“You don’t think you should do as he says?” I didn’t want Chrissy to risk her job for me or the pup.

Chrissy shrugged. “What’s he gonna do? I’m his best operator by about a bazillion brain cells.”

“A bazillion, huh?” I grinned.

She flushed bright red and shrugged. “It’s a small town, what can I say?”

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