CHAPTER 27

A few hours later, Evie and Rhino turn for home. They gallop up the gentle rise from the creek, against a backdrop of green fields and a gray thunderous sky. Her hair flies in the wind, bouncing on her back in time with Rhino’s stride. When she sees two dots in the distance, she waves. She knows it’s Grandpa and George.

Clicking her tongue, Evie uses her hands to guide Rhino, and they head toward them.

Evie sees George stiffen as they ease from a gallop to a canter, a canter to a trot, from a trot to a plodding walk.

“Whoa,” says Evie, sliding from his back, and landing with perfect balance on her feet. Grandpa has an amused look in his eyes, while George is pale. His lips move without any sound coming out, and he blinks several times.

Rhino is puffing and snorting and his flanks are heaving from the exertion.

“H–h–he . . . is . . . enormous,” stammers George.

“Isn’t he magnificent?” says Evie, with one hand resting on his shoulder. “Come say hello.”

George stares at Rhino and Rhino stares at George, narrowing his eyes.

“I–I–I’ll stay back here . . . if that’s alright?”

Evie smiles at him. “Of course, but Rhino won’t hurt you. He’s friendly.”

“But . . . but don’t they charge at you? And gore you with their horn? I’ll just look at him from here.”

“Let’s walk back to the house,” suggests Grandpa, smiling to himself. Their boots squelch as they sink into the sodden ground.

Evie and Grandpa and George wander into the garden and sit in the love seat of the rose arbor. A sliver of wintery sun peaks through the clouds and they turn their faces to it, soaking it up as Rhino and Dominique graze.

Claudette and Florette arrive from the study, blinking and squinting in the sunlight. Albine appears, scritching and scratching around Rhino’s feet. Francie and Freddie bound in, tails wagging. They flop down on the grass beside them, half watching them, half sleeping in the sun.

“I’ve never seen a rhinoceros before,” admits George, breaking the silence.

“Impressive, isn’t he?” says Evie. “He’s the kindest of animals.”

George gives a half nod in agreement. He’s uncertain about Rhino, and Evie stares at George trying to work him out.

“Rhino is big-hearted, but some bulls can be feisty,” says Grandpa.

“Oh, yes, of course,” George gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “How is it, Evie, that you’re so good with animals?” George stutters.

“I love them,” says Evie. “I’m always with them.”

“W–w–why aren’t you at school?’ asks George, studying her.

Evie looks up shyly. “Well, after Mama and Papa died, I lost my voice. Words just wouldn’t come out and everyone at school teased me. Rhino is my best friend. We like all the same things, exploring the beach, tumbling down sand dunes, wandering the paddocks, playing down at the creek. And he loves cows and old horses and cats and dogs, and he really loves chickens.”

Burk burk says Albine.

Evie glances at Grandpa sheepishly and he pats her hand. They both know she should return to school soon.

“I can relate to that, Evie. I was teased at school after my mother died.”

“Is that when your stutter started?” asks Evie softly.

“It was,” says George, giving her a small, sad smile.

Birds chatter in a tree nearby. They hover before swooping the snoozing Francie and Freddie. The dogs sit up, annoyed at being awakened, “ruffing” at the birds as they dive-bomb them.

“They’re wattlebirds,” says Evie. “They’re cheeky and always teasing the dogs.”

George watches Evie pick up Albine and stroke her chest.

“You would have thought growing up in a zoo, I’d have been happy. But I wasn’t. My mother died when I was ten years old. I was so lonely and wished for my own dog. But I wasn’t allowed a pet.”

“Why not?” says Evie, believing this to be terribly unfair.

“I can still recall my father’s words. ‘You live in a zoo, you idiot. You don’t need a pet – you’re surrounded by them.’ But European wolves aren’t exactly the same as a dog. They snarled and bared their teeth at me, licking their lips whenever I would wander past.”

Shivering, Evie blurts out “Your father is evil.”

“Evie! Where are your manners?” says Grandpa, a look of surprise on his face.

“No, Charlie. My father is not a good man. It’s well-known, as you, I suspect, have known for a long time. I appreciate you trying to protect me from it. But I’m a grown man now and believe me, I’ve lived with his meanness most of my life.”

Evie places a small hand on George’s arm. They lock eyes and what she sees reflected there is a mirror of her own sorrow and heartache. A moment passes between Evie and George. She understands him and he understands her.

Evie feels a small fluttering inside. She remembers this feeling, the strange warm, uplifting feeling of hope.

George holds Evie’s hand and gives her a wobbly smile. At this very moment, he couldn’t look further from a grown man.

“George, I’m so sorry,” says Grandpa. “Douglas wasn’t always like that.”

“It all began when my mother died, and when I met Gerta. My dear, sweet Gerta.”

Evie and Grandpa glance at each other, wide-eyed.

Gerta?