anything that didn’t have a monetary value.
She opened her car door, talking to herself. Normally, she tried to see the good in everyone, tried to find at least one redeeming factor, but this man had rubbed her up the wrong way from his first swear word and trying to find anything redeeming in his behaviour would take more time than what he was worth.
And on top of everything else, she hated the way he made her feel. Yes, he was attractive, but she’d seen attractive men before. Why her body went on red alert the minute she’d seen him, she had no idea. Her palms were sweaty, her breathing erratic and her heart was just about jumping out of her chest. She was behaving exactly like a panting heroine straight out of a bodice ripper romance. A good thing that she wouldn’t see him again. She’d always trusted her feelings, but this was way too intense, even for her.
Shaking her head, she turned the key. Being intense was what made it possible for her to communicate with animals. The damn man had her questioning her feelings, damn it. And she had never had to do that before.
She glanced in the direction of the stables again. And why did he look so familiar? Surely she would have remembered if they’d met before, not many people were this rude. Or had such broad shoulders and had eyes in that particular shade of deep blue. Aargh – what was wrong with her? The man was impossible.
What a pity he was unable to get his head around something different. But she felt sorry for the horse. She could help the fiery stallion, but she’d learnt along the way that the problem very seldom lay with the horse. And this particular cranky owner was so full of prejudice, it was clear he was not going to be persuaded to listen to her advice.
Fortunately, she’d realized a long time ago that she couldn’t persuade people to believe in what she did. And at this point in her life, it didn’t matter what other people thought. She was comfortable with her ability, albeit a little bit weirder than what was considered the norm.
One of her most wonderful memories was the short period she’d taught in America right after she finished her studies. Over weekends she was able to work on a horse farm and nobody there thought it strange that she knew what animals were thinking. In fact, most of the people on the farm were able to communicate with animals on some sort of level. The principle used on the farm to train horses was one of respect and love of the horses.
And to her, it was so logical, her own dad had always used the same ideas when working with his horses.
Ever since she remembered, she’d been able to communicate with animals. When she was little, she’d thought everybody did. Her parents never let her believe that what she was able to do was abnormal. It was only when she started school that she gradually came to accept that other people found her understanding of animals weird. And so she’d learnt to keep her thoughts to herself.
Her phone rang. She smiled. It was her friend, Imke. Since the first day of school this busy blonde had taken Cilla under her wing and nobody had dared to tease her when Imke was around.
They grew up together, went to university together and both went overseas for two years to work, make money, experience different cultures. Afterwards, they both returned to teach at their alma mater, the High School in Caledon.
“And? What does the horse say?” Imke teased.
“He’s alone, bored and on top of it, his boss is …”
“Cute? Gorgeous? Sexy? All three?” giggled Imke.
Cilla laughed. “Yeah, all three. He thinks I’m a witch and is about to cast a spell on his horses. I only hope for the horse’s sake, they find someone else who can help.”
“Well, it’s his loss. Are you on your way to the farm?”
“Yes, I am. Will you be able to help this afternoon?” Cilla asked.
“Of course. I’ve already spoken to your mom and I’m spending the night at your parents’ place. It really is amazing what you and your parents have managed to do over the last six months. I am in awe.”
“Every time I look at the happy and playful horses we have now, I’m so glad we were able to save them from the terrible conditions they’d had to endure,” Cilla said. “It cost lots of money and we’ve spent many hours on grooming and nurturing them, but they’re such a joy now.”
“And now that you’ve managed to get the kids to visit the horses, your dreams have come true. To help now and again with your project is such a humbling and satisfying experience. I gladly help out when I can. Drive safely – I’ll see you later,” Imke called out gaily before ringing off.
Cilla smiled as she put her phone away. In collaboration with social workers from Cape Town and various sponsors, they were able to start the programme in which they brought traumatised children and the horses together.
Over the last few weeks they had also started working with an autistic little boy. The fact that Cilla’s mother was a well-known and respected psychologist, had made the whole process a lot easier.
The healing process they’d been witnessing over the last few weeks was remarkable. Each trembling smile on a defenseless child’s face made her realize that all the effort, money and time were so worth it and she had a hard time keeping her tears at bay.
Cilla took the turn-off on to the N2 on her way to Caledon. Fortunately she didn’t have to drive too far to Cameron’s farm this morning. The farm was a short distance from Villiersdorp, a small town about an hour’s drive from Caledon. It was a beautiful road, and this time of the day, there was hardly any traffic. Which meant she’d be in time for the children this afternoon.
She passed the short-cut wheat fields. It was the end of March and one of these days, just before the first winter rains, the farmers would sow their wheat.
From the top of the next hill, she had a lovely view of the mountains and hills of the Overberg. Close by was Babylon’s Peak, a well-known mountain peak that rose high above the farmlands. She couldn’t help smiling. To her, this piece of land would always be the most beautiful on the planet. She stepped on the petrol; she wanted to get home.
Her mind drifted back to the farm she’d just visited. The man’s eyes were the most amazing shade of blue she’d ever seen. He looked so, so familiar. But where would she have seen him before? She’d ask her mother. Maybe they saw one another when they’d been kids. It was as if … Irritated with herself, she shook her head. Surely she would have remembered if she’d ever touched those black curls? Wouldn’t she?
“Pure bliss,” sighed Cilla and, stretching herself out, took a sip of the chilled wine her dad had just handed her.
The sun had just disappeared behind the mountains and they were all sitting outside. Imke and she had spent the whole afternoon with the kids and the horses and still had time to take their favourite horses for a gallop afterwards. Now her head was clear after the week and the frustration of the morning. Her dad was making a fire, they were having a barbeque later.
“Okay, you’ve had enough time. Tell us about the cute, gorgeous, sexy man you met this morning,” Imke teased.
Her mom started spluttering and Cilla groaned.
“What man?” her mom asked when she could talk. Her dad came closer, holding a fork threateningly in his hand.
“What man?” he asked as well.
“See
