Heart of Africa Read Online Free PDF Page A

supports to resemble slender palm tree trunks. I appreciated the quiet harmony and understated elegance among the ample foliage.
    Basking in my solitude, so pleasantly distant from well-meaning friends and critical family members, I felt myself truly relaxing in spite of my high-strung nature, and was suddenly glad I’d come. After ordering swordfish kebobs with a side salad, I opened the book I’d grabbed from the narrow sill across from my bed. Browsing inside the covers of The History of the Vineyard, I discovered the hotel was originally built around 1798 by the clever wife of Andrew Bernard.
    An apologetic sound issued from somewhere near my shoulder. Believing it to be the waitress, I glanced up from the intriguing book and gasped. The slim South African from earlier in the afternoon stood before me, now smartly dressed in pressed gray linen slacks and a somber pinstriped shirt, his chin stubble-free.
    “Is this seat taken?”
    My heart beating wildly, I realized it was the moment of truth. Did I rudely order him away, or allow him to sit down? The old Mandy would have mumbled a quick, repelling response. But this was the new Mandy. “No, it isn’t. Please sit down.”
    He eased his tall frame onto the cushioned seat and smiled warmly. “We haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Peter Leigh. I’m a park ranger, environmentalist, and occasional guide. And you are…?”
    “Amanda Phillips. Actually, Mandy. My job is nothing as exciting as yours, I’m afraid. Just an accounts manager at a local hospital in Orlando.”
    “An accountant?  A noble and crucial profession. Maybe you can give me some insights on how to balance the numbers.”
    “The numbers?”
    “Too much outflow and too little inflow from my accounts, I’m afraid,” he said wryly.
    “A common problem,” I laughed.
    The waitress returned, menu in hand. “You’re eating with the lady, Mr. Leigh?”
    “If she’ll permit it.” He cocked an eyebrow at me.
    “Of course,” I answered, surprised at myself.
    Peter Leigh perused the menu. “I’ll try the pasta tonight, Sophie. And a glass of red wine. House will do.”
    Sophie beamed and whisked away his menu.
    Peter Leigh leaned back. “So, what brought you here to our lovely city?”
    “A holiday,” I answered nonchalantly. “I’ve always wanted to visit Africa and my travel agent recommended South Africa. Something about rustic charm mingled with first-world amenities.”
    “A very astute agent. Still, a long ways to come alone, isn’t it?”
    “I originally planned to travel with a friend, but they had another engagement and couldn’t make it.” It was so close to the truth that I hoped it would pacify the South African.
    It apparently did, for he only asked, “And how do you like it so far?”
    “What little I’ve seen is lovely. You must be proud of your city.”
    “I am. It is truly exceptional,” he agreed, “but I have a bit of a confession to make. I’m actually just a visitor here as well. I stay at The Vineyard every time I venture to Cape Town, but I originally hailed from Zimbabwe.”
    “I just assumed you were South African.”
    “The accents are similar for sure, and I have lived in South Africa and Botswana for the past ten years, but I grew up in Harare.”
    “I’ve heard the situation is dire there,” I stated, remembering what I had read about Mugabe and the country’s insane inflation.
    “Truly not a great place for man or beast. But I have found a new home in the north, near Kruger Park, and get to do what I love, which is work outside with animals and nature, so I have no complaints.”
    “’I’m heading for Kruger tomorrow,” I said excitedly. “I’m venturing on a bit of a safari.”
    “Are you booked with a private game lodge or one of the public ones?” he asked, appearing genuinely interested.
    “A public one, I guess. My first stop is at a camp called Letaba.”
    Peter Leigh flashed me a delighted smile. “That’s a