Yesterday`s flower - Michelle Tarynne (fun to read TXT) 📗

ceremony, Erika, just help yourself. I’d make coffee, but Prudence always does it for me. I can’t work out that stupid machine.’

‘It’s okay,’ Erika said as she propelled herself forward. ‘Max showed me yesterday.’ ‘Ah, Max.’ A mocking tone crept into Jared’s voice. ‘He was waiting anxiously for you
to wake up, but for some reason you overslept.’
Jared’s gaze penetrating her, and the sensation went straight to her groin.
‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night ...’

‘What again?’ Max said, coming in behind her. ‘You poor thing, you must be exhausted.’
‘Max!’ Erika turned as Max kissed her on the head.

‘Why don’t you sit down while I sort out your breakfast?’ he said. ‘You do look tired.’ ‘I can –’
‘But I want to.’ Max guided her forward.
‘Listen to the man, Erika,’ said Jared. ‘He wants to make you breakfast.’

Erika nodded, then sat down at the kitchen table opposite Jared. Too close and she was scared she’d give herself away. ‘Well, I can’t refuse an offer like that,’ she said.
‘No,’ Jared commented, grinning. ‘You should never refuse a good offer.’

Underneath the table, she felt his foot slip up between her legs. She stood up, knocking the chair over in her haste, her face turning pale.

‘Here,’ Jared said, standing up. ‘Let me do that.’ He picked the chair up with one hand, the other brushing against her bo om.
Max turned from the espresso machine his expression unreadable.

‘I need a tissue,’ Erika blurted. ‘Hay fever. Excuse me, I’ll be right back.’
When she returned a few minutes later, Jared had vanished and she was relieved.
‘Are you okay?’ Max passed her a cup of coffee.
‘Absolutely.’

‘Good, because I thought we’d go out on the horses a li le later, if you’re up to it. I just need to work on the accounts for an hour or two, and then we can leave.’
Erika nodded, accepting the mug. ‘That would be wonderful.’

♥

The stables, located beyond the garage, stood under a grove of oak trees. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, creating patches of green of such luminosity, they made Erika blink. A horse neighed from beyond the stables, and the pungent smell of hay and manure rose to meet them. Of all the places that Erika had visited so far in the Cape, this was the one that reminded her most of home. Saturday morning rides with her sister in tow. Dressage and show jumping on weekends, her father’s car following the horse trailer pulled by their riding instructor’s bulky and beaten white pickup. Then, when they finally returned to the stables, those endless hours of obligatory post-mud grooming that she’d always endured, with what she now recalled, was terribly bad grace.

Erika had lost interest in riding, and mucking in, long before her sister had. But that didn’t mean the sight of the Arabs emerging from behind the stacked hay bales wasn’t evocative. Holding out his hand, Max moved towards a chestnut horse, whose slightly curved-in ears pricked as Max whistled softly between his teeth. She nuzzled against him, clearly used to his presence.

‘This is Star,’ Max said. ‘Terribly original, I know.’ He indicated a white patch on her forehead.
‘She’s gorgeous.’ Erika reached out slowly to pet her.

‘A real lady,’ Max agreed. ‘She’s so dainty, and equally proud. You won’t often find her at the back on a trail. She doesn’t like to lose.’
‘My kind of girl,’ Erika said.
‘Really?’ asked Max, a look of surprise crossing his face.
‘I don’t strike you as competitive?’
‘I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t seen you in that context.’

‘Well, wait until you take me on at Scrabble. I’ll try to annihilate you with no thought to your feelings or sensibilities.’

Max laughed. ‘Actually, Erika. I think you may have me terrified.’ Erika smiled. ‘Damn right,’ she said. ‘Now who is this?’

Another horse had edged in next to them. She was grey with a blond mane. She held her tail, also blond, erect and high, flicking away the odd fly.
‘Hello, Pinotage,’ Max said, placing a hand near her muzzle so she could sniff at him.
Pinotage arched her neck, then shook her head softly from side to side.
‘They like you,’ Erika said appreciatively.

‘They should. Before you woke up, I plied them with sugar cubes and carrots so I could impress you with my incredible prowess.’
‘Cheat,’ said Erika.
Max chuckled. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but are you impressed?’
‘Of course. Just no such foul play when we get to that Scrabble game, or I might get

defensive.’
‘I’ll take that as a warning.’

From inside the stables, Erika could hear the sound of voices, then an anxious whinny. ‘That’s Clare,’ Max said. ‘She’s been a bit off colour. Eddie, the groom, told me she

didn’t want to leave her stall at all yesterday. The vet’s coming later to check on her.’ ‘Poor thing,’ Erika said.

‘Ready to saddle up?’ Max asked. ‘I thought we’d cross between some of the farms, stop for a wine tasting or two, and lunch when we’re hungry.’
‘And you’re expecting me to be si ing upright after that?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Star once found her way back with Jared passed out cold after overindulging in brandy. Wine is one thing, but brandy ...’
‘Let’s go then, shall we?’ said Erika, mounting Star with li le effort.

Like most Arabs she was short, at most fourteen hands; Erika had ridden much bigger horses before. She looked down at Max, who was standing sheepishly next to Pinotage.

‘I think I’m about to be outridden,’ he said. ‘You’re full of surprises, Erika, did you know that?’?

♥

It was about ten o’clock when they left. Clouds still hovered like wedding veils over the mountains, and looking across the valley, Erika could see a burst of blooms, dew-do ed spider webs and newly unfurling leaves.

They switched between cantering and galloping, stopping whenever the view called for it. At a stream a few kilometres from Le Domaine, they dismounted to allow the horses to drink.

‘There’s water all the way along the valley,’ Max said. ‘It’s actually quite wet this time of year.’

Erika pa ed Star’s rump, then bent over to throw a leaf into the water, watching it float downstream. Standing up again, she pointed to beyond where a wire-mesh fence marked the start of another property.

‘I didn’t expect so many fruit trees,’ she said. ‘Everything I read about Franschhoek was about wine. That, and of course, the fact it’s supposed to be the gourmet capital of South Africa.’

‘All sorts of fruits have been grown in this valley: pears, plums, apricots, peaches and even lemons. Some of the farms only changed to wine twenty years ago,’ Max said. ‘Some farmers grow both fruit and grapes for wine. And as for the food, you ain’t seen nothing yet.’
‘Is that a promise?’ Erika asked.

Max looked at her, the shade of his hat hiding his expression. ‘If you want it to be,’ he said, then sipped from his water bo le. ‘A li le piece of trivia for you. Did you know that no ma er the colour of an Arab’s coat, all have black skin except under a white marking like Star’s? It originates from when they were desert animals needing protection from the sun.’

‘Do you always do that?’ Erika said, moving closer to him. She tipped up his hat. ‘Hide behind facts?’

‘Is that what you think?’ His eyes met hers with a directness she wasn’t expecting. And now that he was gazing at her, Erika realised she was the one who needed to look

away. She needed to, but she couldn’t. Max touched her face. Not in the possessive way Jared had, but gently. Reassuring.

‘Right now,’ Max said, ‘I don’t know where I stand with you …’ Erika’s hand felt the late-morning stubble on Max’s chin.

‘… and I’m afraid that I’m going to be the one to lose out. While I hold back, denying myself to help you heal, someone else is going to snap you up.’?

♥

They were moving again, Erika galloping ahead on Star as Max’s words echoed through her mind. His openness had touched her, but the guilt was nauseating, a bi er taste at the back of her throat. She’d wondered if he suspected something, but his words showed that he was too trusting to think ill of her. Or of Jared.

The melding of night-time bodies in the room down the passage was so far beyond his natural goodness that it hadn’t even occurred to him. Max had been thinking in the abstract, foreseeing something that might happen, not that had happened already.
If he only knew.

Erika wasn’t a wicked person, at least she didn’t believe she was. And she didn’t know Jared well enough to judge him one way or another. Wasn’t that ironic? She felt torn, and things weren’t any easier now that Max had stated his intentions. She didn’t know what to feel. And she especially didn’t know what to do. So what had she replied when Max had spoken? Nothing. She was a coward; she hadn’t said anything at all.

‘Wait up, Erika!’ Max said. ‘What mission are you on?’ ‘Sorry.’ She slowed the horse to a trot.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ Max said. ‘I shouldn’t have said what I did. No pressure. You don’t have to run away from me. I’m perfectly aware of your boundaries.’

Maybe that was the fundamental difference between Jared and Max: Jared didn’t care about boundaries.

Erika looked at Max. ‘I’m not running away,’ she said firmly. ‘But you’ll have to be patient with me, Max. I’m all mixed up. And to be honest, I’m not so sure of my own boundaries yet.’

‘Let’s forget about it for now,’ Max replied, turning up a beech-lined avenue. ‘There’s somebody I’d like you to meet.’

The entrance road they followed needed resurfacing; where the tar was worn away in places, it was inexpertly and unevenly patched. Star and Pinotage’s hoofs clip-clopped up the drive, Pinotage’s tail swishing continually.

Erika watched Star’s ears prick as a dog barked. ‘There, there,’ she said, pu ing her arms around the horse’s neck and feeling her calm under her touch.

‘Le Cadeau,’ Max announced. ‘One of the best-kept secrets in the whole of Franschhoek. Entry by special invitation only. Pieter Blignaut is what we call a “garagiste” in our circles. He only produces about two thousand bo les of wine a year, but the results are always spectacular.’
‘Has he been in the area long?’ Erika asked.

‘All his life, and mine. Pieter is well into his eighties. He may even be ninety by now. He has some great stories to tell. His mother was a De Villiers, but from Jacob’s line. That makes us relations, but only distantly. You might have to speak up when talking to him – he’s a li le hard of hearing.’

They approached a fork at the main entrance. To the left, a sign indicated ‘Wine Tastings and Tours’ and to the right, ‘Private. Trespassers will be prosecuted.’ Erika followed Max to the right, noting how the homestead had been cordoned off with a hardy green hedge, alternated with the odd cerise or white bougainvillea.
‘We’ll take the horses to the paddock first,’ said Max, leading the way.

They dismounted and tethered the horses, and were checking if there was enough water for them in the trough when a child of about five appeared from one of the nearby staff houses. She wore a torn Hello Ki y T-shirt, a bright pair of pink frilly shorts and no shoes, and a toddler trailed behind her. She grinned, so Erika could see she’d already lost her bo om two teeth. Then, thrusting the tiny tot onto her hip, the li le girl approached Pinotage.
‘Sien jy?’ she said to her sister, pu ing out her hand to the horse. ‘Mooi perdjie!’

Max smiled and spoke in a soft, even voice to the li le girl, although Erika couldn’t decipher the Afrikaans. The li le girl stared at him, then nodded, pu ing her baby sister on the ground.

‘Come, Erika,’ Max beckoned. ‘We’re going to give these li le tykes a ride on Pinotage. This is Nadia,’ he pointed at the older girl and then the toddler, ‘and