Eclipse
My story is unashamedly a New Zealand story. Some of the terms used may be foreign to some readers. For example pounamu is green jade also known as greenstone. Pakeha is a non-Maori New Zealander. New Zealanders often call apartments "flats", Cabins "Baches" and hiking "tramping". I include these words to make the story authentic and hope that they are not too distracting. This has been submitted once before but as I have been unable to access it and withdraw the original copy to edit it I am re-submitting it.
Mark was standing at the door of the site hut. It was a viciously hot day and the nor 'wester was kicking up irritating clouds of yellow gritty dust. In response Mark was only dressed in khaki shorts and his hi-vis jerkin. Visibly a construction man, he was donning steel capped boots with incongruent big woolly socks (on such a hot day) topping off the effect was his helmet with air muffs folded back. All revealed a tanned muscular body, sparse chest hair, his sweat mixed with dust, tousled sandy hair and bright green eyes. A Maori Tattoo adorned his pakeha left shoulder and a pounamu pendant at his throat gave a hint of his background.
Squinting against the glare of the sun, he called out to the young Maori Quantity Surveyor sitting at the desk behind him. "Hey 'H', I have just seen the mother of my children!"
Henare stood and came to the door. "Hey Bro', she's an angel, who is she?"
Mark replied "Oh, a teacher from the school up the road is bringing a class to look at the construction."
What they were staring at appeared, to all intents and purposes, a large white goose fussing over a brood of goslings up the slope and to the hut all dressed in identical hi-vis jackets and blue wide brimmed sun hats.
"Who authorized that, kids on the site are a bit of a risk aren't they?"
"Oh, I dunno, I was asked to give them an induction and show them around very carefully."
At that point mother goose arrived, relieved herself of her hat and looked up into the eyes of Mark. Green eyes met clear blue and wide. Both were suddenly stuck for words. Mother goose dropped her eyes for a second in a show of shyness then head down gave peered sideways back at him expectantly.
Mark gathered himself, "Er, you must be Christina Andersen."
"Christina answered in the affirmative, giving a broad smile."
Utterly charmed with that, Mark took a short while to recover.
Fishing in his pocket, Mark pulled out a creased and grubby business card.
Christina held it in both hands "Mark Hardwicke, Structural Engineer, ME (hons), ooo brains as well as brawn, I see."
Flushing with pride, Mark again took a little while to recover. Finally, "Well you all need to come into the hut and I will tell you all how to be safe on a construction site, I think you should all be able to fit in."
With that Mark and Christina rounded behind the little goslings to herd the brood through the door into the shelter of the site hut.
At this point there needs to be a bit of background to these two.
Mark is the product of a back country farm in New Zealand. Living in the back blocks he grew up to be practical and self-reliant. The farm was reasonably remote requiring the farmer to be carpenter, metal worker, plumber and whatever it took to keep a rugged back country farm functioning to carry the cattle, deer and sheep. Mark had an older brother and a younger brother and sisters. His older brother was set to inherit the farm although most of those knowing the family privately felt that Mark would be the most able, being the practical one. However Mark had been a constructor from an early age and engineering was his love and he had never coveted the farm.
Mark is a bloke. He is the kind of a guy you might meet solo in a high country hut, all gaiters and rifle having just come down from the divide chasing chamois and thar. He is the sweaty bloke with beer in hand and tatty leather apron having just spent all day helping getting the framing up for his mates new house. He is the captain of the country rugby team, the open side flanker with a fearsome reputation holding mana with his Maori team mates.
Christina is probably a polar opposite. Although they had one thing in common, Christina's father had been an engineer. He had died of melanoma when Christina was five and she could barely remember him. Up until then her family had lived in the construction towns built for the mighty dams that provided the backbone for industry.