The Whisperer. Elsa Winckler
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was back. She looked up as he walked into the room. He looked calmer somehow, the frown from earlier had disappeared. She relaxed. A little bit.
Philip noticed him and motioned him closer. “Now that you’re here, we can eat. Wine?”
Cameron nodded and pulled out the chair next to Cilla. When he sat down, his knee touched hers. The temperature of her blood rose in milliseconds and a rushing noise in her ears drowned out everything else. She tried to move away but her chair wouldn’t budge. Heat radiated from his body in her direction, threatening to overwhelm her. He was restless, agitated. She felt it deep inside herself.
A hard kick against her leg made her look up. Imke was making big eyes and motioning in Philip’s direction with her head. He’d probably said something that she didn’t hear.
“Uhm … sorry. You were saying?”
“I want to know how you communicate with animals if you don’t whisper. Do you talk to them? Do they talk to you? Your mouth didn’t move when you were with Bravo, I was wondering how it works,” Philip asked, his eyes twinkling.
Cilla smiled. It was easy to talk to the brother; it was the silent man next to her that she had trouble communicating with. “No, they don’t talk but they communicate with images that explain what they want to say. Animal communicators use different techniques – some only see pictures, others use a kind of dialogue. What is important though, is the relationship you build up with the animal. Energy flows through all forms of life. You only need to open yourself up to it.”
“Okay, but exactly how does it work?” Philip insisted.
Next to her, Cameron had stiffened and she glanced quickly in his direction. That he didn’t want to be listening to this conversation was obvious. She ignored him, though and looked at Philip.
“Well, you start by regulating your breathing, then you are more susceptible to experience things in a different way. Let go of all your rigid ideas of what reality is supposed to be, and you’ll become more intuitive, and will be able to use telepathy. Telepathy derives from the Greek word ‘tele’, which means distance and ‘pathe’ which brings across the idea of a feeling, a perception. In other words, you get a feeling, a perception over a distance.”
Next to her, Cameron cleared his throat. “I’m sorry but as a scientist the whole idea is bloody ridiculous! I find it highly unlikely that Bravo will communicate to you he wants to mate with a specific mare, one whose scent he supposedly caught on his way here. I’ve never heard of anything so … so bloody bizarre.”
Cilla turned to Cameron. He was sitting so close to her, if she put out her hand she would be able to touch his hair and …
“… How do you explain that?”
She again hadn’t been listening to the conversation. Her leg touched his again and she turned her body away from him.
“I think we all have an idea, for instance, of how you think your dream husband or wife would look like. Don’t you have a picture like that in your head? One you sometimes dream about?”
He stared at her for seconds before he slowly nodded.
“Well, I got such a picture from Bravo.”
“Can you see the picture in my head?” Philip teased.
Cilla shook her head. “I can read people who are close to me, someone like Imke, who doesn’t wear a mask. Sometimes there are so many layers between who the person really is and the persona he or she shows the world that it’s difficult to read him or her.”
Cameron took a sip of wine and stared into the glass. “Look, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I understand things I can see with my eyes, black on white. This communication you’re talking about is a grey area and makes me uncomfortable, to say the least. But,” he raised his eyes to her, “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s progress, I’d say,” Philip laughed. “He has actually agreed to think about what you said. I’m telling you, that doesn’t happen every day. If he’s made up his mind about something, he rarely changes it. And don’t hold your breath, though, he’s as stubborn as they come.”
“And you’re of course, always Mr. Nice Guy,” Cameron said, obviously irritated. “Our dad was an ornery piece of work; I suppose it’s something we’ve inherited.”
“Well, at least if you know your own shortcomings, there’s hope for you yet!” Imke teased. “When did your dad die?”
Cameron moved on his chair and his leg touched hers only this time she didn’t move away, but waited quietly for the answer.
“About two years ago,” Philip answered. “It was only after his death that Cameron started buying horses again. While Dad was alive, he refused to have a horse on the farm.”
“You’ve probably heard how my mom died,” Cameron said, looking at his plate. “She was his whole life and he was never able to accept her death. He blamed everything and everyone for what happened and nothing and no one else mattered after she was gone.”
Philip slapped his hand playfully on the table. “Oh, my goodness, this is too morbid for words. What about a decadent pudding? I’ve made something with chocolate.”
Imke sighed. “Chocolate? Cilla and I are both addicted to chocolate – we’ll do just about anything for it.”
Philip wiggled his eyebrows. “Really? Anything?”
He and Imke continued to joke but Cilla wanted to leave. The brooding man next to her with his warm leg resting against hers, was becoming harder and harder to ignore. So when Philip stood up after they’d had their pudding and offered coffee for everyone, she jumped up.
“Thanks, but we have to go. I still have marking to do. Thanks for the lovely lunch, Philip, I’ll definitely visit your restaurant in Hermanus.”
“Yes, maybe even as soon as next …” Imke began eagerly, but Cilla interrupted quickly.
“Do you have your bag?” she asked Imke.
Imke frowned. “No, I have it with me. As I was saying …”
“Imke, really. We have to go. Come on,” Cilla said, desperate to silence her friend and to get away as quickly as possible.
When Imke turned to move towards Philip, Cilla grabbed her hand and just about dragged her out to the car.
“What’s wrong with you?” Imke hissed.
“Just keep moving,” Cilla said and didn’t stop until she was safely behind the wheel of her car.
The quicker she could put distance between herself and Cameron Rahl, the better.
It was only when they drove through the gates of the farm and her heart rate had settled somewhat, that Imke turned towards her. “Well, that was interesting.”
“What was interesting? The fact that a complete stranger couldn’t keep his hands to himself but had to keep touching you?” Cilla teased.
Imke grinned. “That’s not what I’m talking about but yeah, that was also very interesting. I’m talking about your reaction to the other brother.”
“He makes me mad – if that’s what you’re talking about, I wouldn’t call it interesting.”
“Yeah, you’re mad, but what about?”
“You were there, you heard how stubborn, how narrow-minded, how … how …”
“Tall? Handsome? Sexy? Gorgeous? Those the words you’re looking for?”
Cilla glared at Imke. “That’s not what I’m thinking about …”
“Oh, come on, Cilla. The man is drop-dead gorgeous – you want to tell me you didn’t notice it? Your heartbeat didn’t even increase a tiny bit?”
And