by Mandy Magro
After ten minutes, Ivy softly and calmly asked Max and Michelle to open their eyes.
‘So today,’ she said, once they were back in the present moment, ‘we’re going to have our very first reiki session with the horses. Sound good?’
Michelle’s green eyes glittered. ‘Wow, really. Horses can do that?’
Max looked confused. ‘What the heck is reiki? Sounds like some kind of karate.’
Michelle jumped in to answer. ‘It’s like a massage, but without all the touching. I haven’t tried it, but I’ve always wanted to. I’ve watched documentaries on it, and it looks amazing.’
With Max still staring at her with a knitted brow, Ivy elaborated on Michelle’s description. ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s where the horses lend their hearts and souls to us, taking us on a deeper journey of self-discovery. They can remove emotional blockages just by being near you, or sometimes by touching you with their muzzles, chin, lips or forehead. It may sound a little strange now, but you just wait until you experience it.’
‘Uh huh.’ Max cocked his head to the side. ‘Do I have to tell them anything?’
Ivy shook her head. ‘Nope. All you have to do is lie on a massage table and the horses do all the work.’
Max’s worried look finally gave way to a smile. ‘Sounds pretty good to me.’
After Michelle and Max had removed their shoes and climbed onto the massage tables set up in the shade at the side of the roundyard, Ivy placed a hand on Max’s and Michelle’s legs. ‘All I ask of you both is to close your eyes and allow the horses to do as they need. You might feel different sensations, like tingling, twitching, or a rumbling belly, and you might feel nothing but peace, but either way, it’s all good and all part of your personal journey. Just trust in the horses, okay?’
Max and Michelle agreed and closed their eyes. Ivy walked over to the edge of the roundyard and opened the gate wide, allowing the horses to choose if they wanted to join them or not. Out of the eight horses in the paddock, five did. Ivy stood back to let them pass her, breathing in their beautiful horsey scent. Three went to Michelle and two to Max. The horses by Michelle’s side began to gently rub their muzzles up and down her back. The two with Max decided to lay their heads on his shoulders, one on each side. They did this for fifteen minutes, only shifting to the opposite cheek, until Ivy asked both Max and Michelle to roll over onto their backs.
‘I feel really warm,’ Michelle mumbled dreamily.
Ivy placed her hand on Michelle’s arm. ‘That’s normal. It’s your energy shifting and dispersing. Just go with it.’
‘Okay,’ Michelle replied distractedly as the horses mingled by her side once more.
Max rubbed his eyes, yawning. ‘Is it normal to feel so heavy and tired?’
‘Yes, that’s your body’s way of healing itself from emotional blockages.’
‘I’m really liking this,’ Max said faintly as his eyes slipped shut and the two horses that had chosen him got back to work.
One horse stood at Max’s feet and the other gently pushed its muzzle into Max’s chest. From experience, Ivy knew this was the horses’ way of channelling energy through whoever they were doing the healing work on – kind of like they were flushing Max of any toxins. It was always mind-blowing to watch. Horses were such magnificent creatures, with a unique way of helping people open their hearts. She knew all too well from her own experience with them – after her mother’s death and when she was attacked – that when you really looked and listened through the lens of your heart, you could open the doorway to a world of feeling, allowing you the insight to work through your inner dilemmas. And the horses, in such a gentle yet powerful way, helped people do this by bonding with them in a way no human could, making her job as a counsellor so much more fulfilling.
The second part of the session lasted for almost half an hour, until the horses stepped back from the table. Three of them rolled in the dirt as a way to rid themselves of the energy they’d taken on, while the other two did the same by shaking themselves. Ivy marvelled at their intelligence, and also at their giving and loving natures. Dogs may have been said to be a man’s best friend, but in her mind horses were humankind’s graceful saviours. If only more people knew of, and put faith in, horses’ healing powers, she believed there would be a lot less suffering in the world.
Giving Max and Michelle some time to come back to reality, Ivy then asked them to slowly sit up as she handed them each a bottle of water.
‘How are you both feeling?’
As always, Michelle spoke first. ‘I feel weird, in a good way. A bit light-headed, like I’m free of gravity or something.’
Max stretched his arms in the air and yawned widely. ‘I second that.’ He shook his head, his eyes full of wonder. ‘I don’t know how else to put it except – that was fucking amazeballs.’
Michelle giggled. ‘I completely agree.’
Ivy laughed with them as she stretched her arms wide and pulled them into a group hug. Within seconds Michelle began to sob in her arms, and Ivy felt Max’s arms tighten protectively around them all. This was a moment Ivy had been expecting.
‘I’m sorry,’ Michelle mumbled, sniffling. ‘That just kind of came out of nowhere.’
‘It’s okay,’ Ivy whispered, as she stroked Michelle’s hair. ‘This is a good thing. You’re releasing emotional blockages that the horses have moved.’
Michelle nodded softly.
‘You’ll be okay, Michelle,’ Max said quietly. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’
Ivy’s heart swelled. Max and Michelle had been at their very lowest when they’d first come here and yet they were giving it all they had to make life better – and that took so much courage. This, right here, was why she had to save Healing Hills.
CHAPTER
2
Long Bay Correctional Facility,
New South Wales
Byron Sinclair sat at an empty table off to the side of the exercise oval, his determined gaze following the length of the razor-topped walls that had cast a shadow over his life since he had arrived here at nineteen, his whole life ahead of him when he’d been sentenced to ten years. He hated the goddamn walls. Hated feeling controlled, constricted, and worst of all, trapped. Now he was twenty-seven – so many years of his life were gone, in a way stolen from him, but it hadn’t all been in vain. At the very least, this place had made him own his crime.
Her beautiful face flashed through his mind and his jaw clenched, along with his heart. He’d kept the letter all these years, had read it a thousand times, her words touching a place in his heart that no other woman had been able to reach, but he’d never responded to it. In times of weakness he sometimes wondered if he’d done the right thing, but he was no hero and he didn’t want her thinking he was. She was better off forgetting he even existed because a good-hearted woman like her deserved only the best of people around her. It had been the briefest of meetings anyway and in the worst of circumstances. In the terrible state she’d been in he was sure she wouldn’t recognise him if she saw him again – which was very much on the cards now. Lottie was right, he needed to steer clear of Ivy if he wanted to keep his old identity hidden because there was always the risk of her remembering him. He certainly wasn’t proud of what had happened, and was happy to keep his past where it belonged, especially for his great aunt Lottie’s sake – he owed Lottie that much after everything she’d done for him over the years. Changing his last name to hers six months ago had been an easy decision and only the first step in his new life. With his sister’s help, a few forms and $157, the man who was sentenced to prison was gone. Not that he cared. He’d never fit the arrogant persona of a McWilliams man anyway.
Glancing down at the creased letter in his hands, Ronny closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, willing himself not to break down. After receiving mail from Lottie each and every week he’d spent in here, this was the last one he’d gotten from her and the last he ever would. He inhaled deeply, as though drawing on the earth f
or strength. He’d never shed a tear in this hellhole – his life depended on remaining hard as nails – and he wasn’t about to lose his resolve now. There would be plenty of time on the outside for him to be able to grieve openly, especially once in the welcoming arms of Sundown Farm – the only place he ever felt truly at home. His emotions in check, he began to read Lottie’s curled handwriting for the umpteenth time, hearing her motherly tone, her addictive laughter, her weighty sighs and her sniffles, just like she was sitting beside him. If only he’d gotten out two months earlier, he would have at least been able to hold her hands and say goodbye. He could have been there to take care of her in her final few months. Life could be so damn cruel.
My Dearest Ronny,
If you’re reading this then I’ve finally decided to go knocking on heaven’s door – let’s just hope God lets me in, hey. It would be a right bugger if he doesn’t when I’ll be dressed in my Sunday finest! But all jokes aside, this letter is of great importance as it contains my final requests, which my solicitor will also be following through on. I wish with all my heart I could still be alive to see you walking from that godawful place, but this brain tumour has gotten the better of me and I know it won’t be long before the Lord calls me home … a week or two at the most, my doctor says. At first I was afraid to die, but now I’ve come to accept my fate. I’m at peace now. Please know I will always be with you in spirit and will be watching you from above. I know you’ve had a tough run in your young life, Ronny, and I hope by doing this I can give you the future you deserve. You’re a good man, with a big heart, and I love you like a son with all of mine, and I believe you deserve a break in life. So, I am leaving Sundown Farm to you, along with half of my life savings, which isn’t a great deal in the scheme of things, but it should at least help you make a start back out in the real world – the other half of the money I am leaving to Larry, along with the right for him to live out the rest of his days at the workers’ quarters on the farm. He has been by my side for the past forty years, and I believe his loyalty deserves reward. All I ask in return is that you care for the animals that have made Sundown Farm their home, and do your best to leave your past where it belongs. Don’t give the people of this town a reason to gossip about something they really know nothing about.
Now, being the organised woman I am, I have thought ahead and asked my friends at the Country Women’s Association to take care of packing up my personal belongings so you don’t need to and to give it to charity, making sure to leave the furniture, household items, photos, and also my jewellery box – one day you will have a special woman in your life who will treasure the items inside as much as I have, I just know it. Even though all the women are very dear friends of mine after being involved in the CWA for over half my life, I have felt the need to not divulge your private matters to them, Lord forgive me. Instead, I have told my friends that you are working on a cattle station in the Northern Territory, which is why you haven’t been able to visit me, and will be here as soon as you can. Not being one to make up stories, this is the best I could do. As I’ve said a hundred times before, I’m so sorry I forced you to go to the police and confess what you did, Ronny, but at least now you can get on with your life without forever looking over your shoulder. Fingers crossed it doesn’t take you too long to get here now that you’ve been granted good behaviour.
Finally, my very last request is that on my wedding anniversary, February 28th, you spread my ashes in the place where I spread my darling Frank’s all those years ago – up on the highest hill of Sundown. I want to remain with him in my happy place forever. Larry will be taking care of the urn until you arrive.
Rightio, I think that’s everything. This dying business takes a lot of planning! Anything I’ve forgotten I’m sure you will figure out along the way. Larry will be here to guide you through the paces, if need be, and the girls from the CWA will be popping in every now and again to make sure you’re both doing okay, and are eating decent meals.
Ronny, I truly don’t know of anyone else in my life who is more deserving of all that means everything to me. I know you will love Sundown Farm as much as I have.
I love you,
Lottie xoxo
P.S. I’ve also left you the old Kingswood … I know how much you loved it!
Ronny felt his heart squeeze tight as it had every other of the hundreds of times he’d read the letter. It was so hard to imagine life without Lottie in it, especially now he’d be calling Sundown Farm home. It was going to feel strange arriving there without her greeting him. Although he would be moving to where his past still lingered, he was fairly confident he’d be able to keep his true identity private – he and Lottie had succeeded until now. Once again, the heartbreaking memory of that night filled him with anger but he exhaled the fury away. He couldn’t let it own him, like it had in the past. Ivy Tucker still lived in Bluegrass Bend, but he’d been just another face in the massive crowd who’d all stood mesmerised by her that fateful night. But like almost every other bloke in the pub he had noticed her, big time. He’d found it impossible to take his eyes off her as she’d performed; there was just something unique about her, something he’d never seen in any other girl before. And her voice, it was as sweet as an angel’s, and filled with depth and potency. How anyone could want to hurt such an exquisite creature was beyond him.
But Lottie was right. That was all in the past, and he needed to focus on his future if he wanted to make a decent life for himself. So, to stop dwelling on the things he could never change he focused on what lay ahead of him. He longed for the vast Blue Mountain countryside of his youth, and to feel the peace that came with the absence of man-made monstrosities like this godforsaken prison so he could truly allow his heart and soul to breathe. Although, he wouldn’t be going back to his childhood home, which had passed into the hands of the last surviving McWilliams man other than himself, his uncle, Douglas McWilliams. With his grandad dying of prostate cancer when he was just nine years old, his father’s dramatic exit from this earth fifteen years ago, and his grandmother’s death last year, his uncle was the next in line. He’d never been able to bring himself to like his uncle – a man who reminded Ronny too much of his own arrogant father. Douglas was the epitome of a narcissist and only ever did anything to benefit himself, even at the detriment of another. Ronny silently thanked Lottie again for giving him the chance to return to the land he loved so much, suddenly craving the sensation of climbing into the saddle and galloping full throttle through the eucalypt-dominated countryside at the back of Sundown Farm. On a horse was where he felt truly alive. He’d always preferred the company of a good stockhorse or a dog to a human because, unlike most humans, you could trust horses and dogs. And both animals could feel deep into your heart, and could know so much about who you were without you having to utter a single word. They never judged you, either, for anything. Ever.
Taking a sip from his bitter, lukewarm coffee, Ronny relished the fact he would never have to drink a drop of the foul-tasting gutter water again. And he would never have to eat another mouthful of something that made him think starving to death might be a better option. There was so much in this hellhole that he wasn’t going to miss. This godforsaken place had given him no physical freedom, and yet, he’d tried to turn it to his advantage as best he could over the years, believing in the notion that true freedom came from within. Taking his big sister’s advice, he’d used his time in here wisely, reading every book about personal growth and inner healing she’d brought him – Jon Kabat-Zinn and Deepak Chopra were his favourites. Through the solitude of prison life he’d finally been forced to discover who he truly was, had no other choice but to face up to his inner demons and choose what he wanted out of his time on this earth – and he wanted to somehow make a difference by helping those in need. It had taken nine months of intense study, but he now had his accreditation, and was excited with the prospect of teaching people how to calm their minds, and lives, through meditation once he got himself settled int
o life at Sundown. He didn’t want to waste another precious second of his life hanging around the wrong kind of people – the ones who sapped you until you were dry and then dumped you when they’d gotten what they’d wanted. By being able to tap into his spiritual side – which until prison he’d never have believed for a minute he’d had – he felt as though he had somehow beaten the system, because he was walking out more alive than he had been when he’d walked in, both physically and mentally, and with a belief in himself he’d never had before. That wasn’t to say he still didn’t carry some skeletons, and there were still a few lingering inner issues he had to deal with, but he was going to do his very best to overcome it all – and anything else that came his way.
Looking to the cobalt blue sky, the endless expanse of freedom that had always given him hope, Ronny smiled. He was amazed this day had finally come – no more counts, no more lockdowns, no more being told what to do, no more being constrained to solitary confinement because he’d defended his life yet again, no more having his every move watched and being told when he could eat, shower, sleep. This moment had always seemed so far away he just hadn’t been able to truly grasp it. But today, he was walking out of the prison gates and onto the next phase in his life.
