Lucy parked her small, second-hand pickup truck known out here as a bakkie in front of the Mountains Shadows farmhouse. She stood for a moment, looking up at the gracious Cape Dutch architecture. With its ornate gables and perfect Georgian symmetry, it looked like something from a postcard. The name de Lange 1845 was inscribed on the face of the building in old-style lettering.
From her research, she knew this farm had been the seat of the de Lange family for one hundred seventy years. In the failing light, she could still make out the shape of the mountains behind the farm. On these slopes grew acres of vineyards. Mountain Shadows and the de Lange name were synonymous with award-winning fine wines exported all over the world. The de Lange Shiraz was considered one of the finest in its class.
Lucy had chosen a simple outfit for dinner: black trousers and boots with an emerald-green turtleneck sweater. In recent months, she had done precious little socializing. She interacted with her students and the small group of staff at the school and the occasional parent, but apart from that, her life had become increasingly private. She feared through sheer lack of practice that she might dry up in conversation. So far, nobody in South Africa seemed to connect her to the Palmer family scandal, which wasn’t of much interest here. Still, she knew if she wanted to escape discovery, it was necessary to remain on her guard at all times.
From time to time, Josh’s mother, Annette de Lange, would drop by the school. It was clear that she loved the children, but her presence was always unobtrusive. All the members of the de Lange family and the staff at the farm had treated her with courtesy but Lucy had no plans to get close. The last time she had associated with a powerful family, the results had been disastrous. Taking a deep breath, she climbed the stairs to the front door and was about to knock when the door was flung open.
“Hi, you must be Lucy. I’m Suzanne, Josh’s sister. Come in. It’s rather cool tonight, isn’t it?”
Suzanne was a slip of a girl, with the same dark-brown eyes as her brother. Her dark hair was cut boyishly short and she was casually dressed in jeans and a fisherman’s jersey.
Lucy paused at the entrance. She’d been here before when Annette had invited her for tea, but the historical family home was breathtaking with its high, ornate ceilings and old wooden floors polished to a high sheen. She couldn’t help but contrast it with the Palmer family mansion in Illinois. Victoria Palmer might have had exquisite taste, but her home had an uncomfortable you break it, you pay for it feel. One had the feeling that the antiques in Mountain Shadows weren’t bought at a high-priced auction but lovingly handed down through the generations.
They passed through the entrance and into the living room, where a fire blazed in the grate. Two large Rhodesian Ridgebacks greeted Suzanne as she entered.
“Mila, Boris, that’s enough!” Annette de Lange clapped her hands and came to give Lucy a hug.
She was beginning to become accustomed to this South African ritual—even relative strangers here hugged one another. Like her son and daughter, Annette de Lange had dark eyes. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair was unselfconsciously gray. She wore a loose-fitting tunic of stark white over trousers and was fond of chunky jewelry.
“So glad you could make it. It would’ve been a little dull just the three of us. Come and take a seat by the fire.”
Josh’s back was to the room. He knelt in front of the hearth, trying to force a large, recalcitrant log into the grate. He stood up and placed the poker in its holder. “Well, look who’s come to dinner.” He moved forward and gave her a hug.
He regretted it the moment they realized she now had two sooty handprints on her shawl. “Sorry, Lucy.” He attempted to rub off some of the ash. “Oh well. You looked far too glamorous for this part of the world anyway,” he said with an appreciative smile.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing. I like a man who can get his hands dirty,” she said, noticing his flustered look. “My dad owns an auto shop. I grew up helping, so dirty hands don’t scare me.” It was the first bit of personal information she had offered in months.
“So, you know your way around an engine?” Josh looked at her, one eyebrow raised in something like admiration.
“Yeah, I helped out my dad and brother Steve. Mostly I just handed them the correct tools, but I paid attention.”
“So you have a family business too?” Suzanne said.
“Well, yes, but not quite on this scale. My dad built up his business virtually from scratch, worked sixteen-hour days when Steve and I were growing up.”
“And your mother?” Annette asked.
Instinctively, Lucy’s hand went to the gold locket at her throat. It was a gift from her mother, and she never took it off. “My mother passed away when I was ten years old.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Annette, her dark eyes large with compassion. “You are close to your father and brother then?”
“Very.” Lucy fought hard to contain her feelings. She missed her family so much.
“A drink anyone?” Josh sought to brighten the mood.
His mother and sister nodded, but Lucy hesitated. She’d never been much of a wine drinker. She actually preferred a beer and occasionally when out partying, she would order a Jack Daniels and soda. The Palmers had considered themselves connoisseurs, but she had never been able to understand the obsession. All that talk about minerality and varietals had left her feeling like an outsider.
Josh returned seconds later with a bottle of de Lange Pinotage. Lucy watched as he expertly opened the bottle and poured a small amount into a large crystal glass. He swirled the glass a few times and inhaled before tasting.
He poured glasses for his mother and sister. “I do believe this will do, madame,” he said. And as if he had read her mind, he popped the top of a bottle of beer and poured it into a tall glass.
“It’s not that I don’t like wine.” Relieved, she stammered, “It’s just that…”
“You’d rather have something else and why not?” Suzanne said, rescuing her.
She thought of the Palmers and how they considered themselves wine aficionados. Jason’s father James loved to describe wines in bombastic terms. She remembered how he once described a Chardonnay as full-bodied, opulent, and reminiscent of a Tuscan sunset.
In hindsight, it was all so pretentious. Mentally, she lambasted herself for having been so naïve and easy to impress. She had resolved to never be that impressionable again.
“Shall we go through to the dining room?” Annette stood up and guided them to the adjacent room. There, a meal of succulent Karoo lamb, the last of the garden’s vegetables, and baby potatoes was beautifully laid.
“Ma’am, if everything is fine, may I go home?” asked a servant in uniform.
“Of course, Nelly. This looks wonderful.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Nelly’s smile was gap-toothed. “I can still catch the soccer match on TV.”
Lucy and the de Langes dined under the soft light of a vintage chandelier. The food was hearty and delicious.
“How are things going at the school, Lucy?” Suzanne asked.
“I hear the children love her,” Annette said before Lucy could answer.
“I love the children here, too, “Lucy said. “I find them unspoiled, eager to learn, and for the most part, not badly behaved.”
“I much prefer children to adults,” Suzanne said.
“My little sister here will qualify as a pediatrician this year. She’s doing her internship at the Red Cross Children’s Hospital in Cape Town.” Josh affectionately ruffled his sister’s hair. It was clear for all to see that he was proud of her.
“I must say I do agree with you, Suzanne. I’ve always been more comfortable around children than adults. I find them more honest.”
“It sounds like you and I have a fair bit in common,” Suzanne said, raising her glass and toasting Lucy.
Lucy felt her heart warm with the kind attempt at a connection, but she still maintained a reserve. She declined a second beer for she was wary of getting tipsy and becoming garrulous.
“Are all of these paintings on the walls of family members?” Lucy was referring to large oil portraits adorning the dining-room walls.
“Yes,” answered Annette. “You are looking at all of the de Lange men. The first portrait is of Adam de Lange; he arrived here in 1838. He and his wife Marie established the first vineyards in the region. They had eighteen children and only five of them survived. The last painting is of my late father-in-law Tertius.
“It’s not all of the de Lange men.” Suzanne spoke bluntly. “Dad said he didn’t want a portrait, that they were ostentatious.”
“Yes, Derek certainly had strong opinions,” said Annette. “He loved this place so much. It was in his blood.”
Lucy noticed a subtle but definite shift in mood. She looked at Josh and noticed he now wore a somber expression she’d never seen on him. The times she’d been in his company, she had always found him to be cheerful. It was clear this was a man who when necessary, took matters seriously.
“It’s hard to believe that it’s been over a year since he left us,” said Annette, her brown eyes shiny with tears that didn’t fall.
“A year isn’t long. I’m sure the loss is still raw,” Lucy said with real feeling, for she knew grief first-hand.
“Yes, well, we have to go on, don’t we? The last thing Derek would have wanted was for us to go to pieces.” Suzanne reached across the table and took her mother’s hand.
Josh, she noticed, said nothing. Instead, he quickly changed the subject. “So, what made you decide to come halfway across the world to work at our little farm school? Surely as a qualified special education teacher, there were much more lucrative posts.”
“Well.” Lucy took a deep breath. She had anticipated the question and had already practiced her response. “I have always been keen to travel and see the world. I thought my skills might be more needed here than in America. I thought perhaps I could make a difference, as corny as that sounds.”
“Not corny at all,” said Josh. “We’re very lucky indeed to have someone of your experience out here.”
The rest of the meal passed amid companionable chatter. It was about nine-thirty when Lucy rose to leave.
“Thank you so much for dinner. I really enjoyed myself.”
“It was a pleasure, and we hope this was the first of many dinners here with you at Mountain Shadows,” said Annette. Both she and Suzanne gave Lucy a warm hug.
“I’ll see you to your truck,” said Josh. The two of them stepped outside into the cool night air.
“You’ll be all right driving back to your place?”
Her cottage was half a mile down the road and she could see the light that she had left on still burning in the front window.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you for tonight. You have a lovely family,” she said.
“They like you, I can tell,” said Josh. He stood close to her now. There were few lights on in the house and above them lay a brilliant canopy of stars.
Josh edged even closer and in a manner that seemed completely natural, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.
Lucy felt her pulse quicken. She hadn’t anticipated this and felt completely off balance. He enfolded her in a warm hug, just as his sister and mother had done, but instead of letting her go, he held her, looking down into her face.
His breath was warm and heavy, and she could smell the faint traces of Pinotage as the stubble of his beard grazed her cheek. Before she could protest, he brushed his lips against hers. A flutter took off in her stomach and she was glad it was dark, for she was sure a deep blush would show on her face.
She never knew that a kiss so brief could express so much. She stepped away from him, tried to calm her breathing. She was certain he could hear her pounding heart. Quickly, she gathered her senses and moved aside.
“Thank you for supper,” she said.
He looked at her with an expression both curious and tender. “Good night, Lucy.”
After climbing into her little truck, she drove off in the direction of the cottage on the hill.
***
Josh stood in the cool night air and watched as she drove away.
Damn! He’d told himself not to be impulsive. Had he scared her away for good?
She had felt so soft and warm in his arms. He never would have kissed her if he hadn’t sensed a desire from her too. All night, he had watched and listened to her. Even conservatively dressed or perhaps because of it, she had looked impossibly alluring. With her strawberry-blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail, the emerald-green sweater had emphasized the striking color of her eyes and the gentle swell of her breasts. He found her breathtaking.
He had also noticed her sincerity. Her reactions seemed to be completely genuine. He also had noted a few telltale signs of nervousness, the way she sometimes tugged absently on an earlobe or fidgeted with her hands. Although she seemed honest, he doubted her explanation for coming to Mountain Shadows was the full story.
What had she said? That she wanted to make a difference? He knew there was more to that story. Lucy’s truck disappeared over the crest of a gentle hill and a slow smile spread across his face. Mysteries were there to be solved, and he’d be dammed if she’d remain an enigma.