The ride home was filled with nothing more than disbelieving sighs and stealthy looks being cast upon me from the driver's seat. The unidentified gentleman got an amused look on his face after my umpteenth expression of amazement.

"You really didn't know?!"

I shook my head.

"I truly didn't," and I looked over to assure him, "I truly didn't."

I had to admit that it was a little uncomfortable to be stuck in a car with one of Michael Jackson's bodyguards for ten minutes. It seemed stupid to talk about anything other than him, but at the same time we wanted to be as light-hearted as possible about it together. An ambiguous feeling soon filled me. I wanted to tell everyone what I had just experienced, but at the same time I had the strange realization of sitting on a gold mine that nobody was allowed to take away from me. A strange primal urge to hide a discovered diamond somewhere so that nobody could find it.

"You mentioned you go to school here?"

I nodded.

"Yes, right here actually." We passed the Midland School which was only a few dozen meters away from Neverland. The driver chuckled briefly.

"Lot of crazy teenagers, no?"

I understood what he meant and immediately shook my head.

"I won't tell around, if that's what you're asking."

The friendly man nodded understandably and we started a conversation about my experiences at the school and in Los Olivos, and about the vineyards of my father. I was grateful for the fact that he took a sincere interest in me instead of bragging about his own occupation - because it certainly seemed something one could gloat about. When we finally arrived home — a small yet picturesque flowered cottage, right at the edge of the village — he looked at me in a piercing way.

"And remember, you're always welcome at Neverland. Michael meant what he said."

My heart warmed.

"Neverland?" It was the first time I heard the name of the ranch. I had seen it decorated in gold italics on the gates, but it had eluded me once again. A little unwittingly, he shrugged.

"Yeah, Peter Pans Neverland. The man is a dedicated Disney fan!"

After saying goodbye, the Range Rover rushed out of the yard. There I stood, the steering wheel of my bike loosely clasped in my hands, uncertain of what to do next. But almost immediately I was confronted with reality again, like a cold bucket of water being poured over me. My three year older sister rushed up to me with an anxious expression.
"Bethel, for God's sake, are you okay?" On her hip she wore her four year old son Jeremiah, who had thick eyes of shed tears. I nodded and smiled, took over the child from her who had eagerly extended his hands to me. My sister Bilhah and I were like two peas in a pod. She resembled me in everything, although she was more adrift and emotional than I was. With us it was like most sisters are: self-evident, confidential and safe.

"Where's everyone?"

"On the patio," Bilhah sighed, "dads working already. Ain't no time to be wasted!"

We shook our heads laughing and I moved to the backyard, where my mother and younger brother quietly nibbled at the first grapes of the year.

"Hello, hello!" I shouted exuberantly, turned around to show that I had arrived in one piece and pressed a kiss on my mother's cheek. I pulled a hand through Elijah's hair and pressed him close to me for a moment. Elijah was truly a treasure of a boy, faithful, confident but at the same time wonderfully naive, in every way boyish like a little brother always is. He was Jeremiah's greatest friend and the sweetest little brother anyone could wish for.

"Hello, darling," my mother spoke calmly, in a way that people do after they have realized that they might have lost someone. In the distance I saw my father wandering through the orchard. All was well. As if there hadn't just been a tremor shaking the earth in its foundations, and as if I hadn't just met the greatest artist of all time, all was well, and I realized that I didn't need a giant mansion to make my life more exciting, not an imposing character for a touch of magic. It wasn't necessary, but it was strangely interesting, although even then I realized (I knew myself) that he could conquer a huge part of my heart. I was already facing an important choice, although it didn't fully get through to me, and I tried to forget the whole incident by drinking a glass of wine (no-one is young enough for a good glass of wine, my dad always says) and communicating with my beloved family. But all evening I wore a subtle smile that did not go unnoticed: the dark eyes kept staring into mine, and his warm hand didn't leave my trembling shoulder for a long time.

The impossible was yet to come. Because it was a vacation and the routine of everyday life was interrupted, it was even more difficult for me to devote my thoughts to anything other than that special event. I had plenty to do: helping my mother in the household, my father in the fields, the horses in the stables of my school. And so another week and a half flew by as the passing of a mere second. I was one of the few students from the neighborhood, and all the help at Midland School was appreciated. One Thursday, I headed back to the campus - a breath of fresh air facilitated the ride along Figuera Road, in stark contrast to that of a while ago.

Michael's invitation had imprinted itself in my heart, reinforced by the encouraging words of the security guard. But it seemed impossible to just knock on the wooden gate again, as if I would be an expected guest. I already knew of myself that I would never dare take that step and I had already half-admitted that a second meeting with that special man now depended entirely on fate. Once I arrived at the school, I looked somewhat mournfully to the left, where in the distance I saw the vague outlines of the Neverland Ranch. Could he be out there somewhere? Dancing? Writing a song? Oh, to long to what once was! A deep sigh left my lips and I entered the recognizable grounds of the school. I greeted a number of fellow students, who also came from the village and helped with the work. Most of them I hadn't seen for a few weeks because of the vacations, and I enjoyed seeing familiar faces again. On the way to the stables an even greater pleasure awaited me.

"Tracy?!" I shouted, hastening my pace and when my good friend noticed me, she received me with her arms wide open. She had been to Europe with her parents, and I had almost forgotten that she had arrived again yesterday - that was how distant my thoughts were from reality. Her exotic scent of expensive perfumes filled my pores, and I was happy to see a good friend again after all those languid summerdays. Tracy never failed to make me happy. We differed like an apple differed from a pear, but I couldn't do without her eternal chatter and life advices.

"Oh, Bethel! I have missed you so much!" Her tanned face blushed and out of happiness she squeezed my upper arms.

"And I you, so much more. Tell me everything!"

And she did, her arm around my shoulder and mine around her waist, I smiled at her jumping from one thing to the other, excited like a young foal. She didn't stop, not even when we were cleaning the stables side by side (because although Tracy was typically girly, she could shovel shit like hell), until we were brushing two mares and suddenly turned to me with a jolt, her red locks dancing around her: "And you? How was your holiday?"

I opened my mouth to say something, stuttered for a moment and then shook my head.

"What?" giggled Tracy, "You heard anything from Lionel?"

"Oh no!"

Lionel was a classmate of ours. A friendly guy I got along with, and Tracy couldn't help but to see something romantic in that. Maybe she was right.

"Oh no," I repeated, with a subtle smile, combing the mane of Riley the mare.

"Just summer. You know how they can be around here."

"Oh, I know, that's why we made sure to get outta here!"

Somewhat jealous I laughed along. My father didn't dare to leave the fields in the summertime, which of course I understood. We often went out in winter, more to the east to look for the snow, or in spring, to visit distant relatives. Tracy sighed.

"Hm. You're keeping something from me, Bethel Regel."

"I'm not!" but I kept laughing, and of course I wasn't taken seriously. It weighed heavily on my heart to keep what had happened under wraps, but it didn't feel right to just let it be known that one of the most famous people on this earth turned out to be our neighbor. Especially Tracy would get frantic.

"You know me well, Tracy."

With her bright eyes she peered over the back of her pony, waiting for what was to come.

"But I ain't got nothing to hide."

Thank God Tracy laughed it away. She had to leave shortly after to visit her family after such a long trip, and she went off with the promise to come and see me again soon. I prepared Riley, an impatient young mare, for a quick trip through the dense forest. She hadn't had any movement for a while, and excitedly she tripped back and forth as we took off. Within seconds we were on our way, and immediately a feeling of freedom fulfilled me. I breathed in the cool air, the scent of green natural scenery came towards me. How wonderful it was to be able to control a beast - a wonderful feeling of power, in strange balance with the realization of being one with nature. When Riley had warmed up, I looked for an empty piece of land, and immediately the clever monster knew what was coming: I let loose of the reins a little, poked in her flanks and she was gone. My surroundings faded to nothing more than fast flashing lights, only the sound of rushed hoof steps came in and I laughed with happiness.

For minutes we stayed in the same rhythm and enjoyed a moment of being one with the wind. Because dark clouds were gathering above the woods, and I could already hear the angry threat of thunder approaching in the distance, I let Riley return to the school. When we reached the provincial road, rain was pouring down from the sky. It was the first rain this summer, so I was grateful, but my mare thought differently: she pulled the reins nervously and stomped awkwardly upon the concrete. I tried to soothe her, but when suddenly a car approached me from behind at too high a speed, she jumped into uncontrolled canter. My heart was racing and I desperately tried to calm Riley, but the fact that I was furious at the unknown driver didn't help my own composure. A brace seemed to slip off my foot and I anxiously clamped my leg against the saddle so I wouldn't slip off. As a last resort I pulled the reins crosswise, which immediately made the horse stop. I knew it hurt her, but better this than ending up in a ditch. Immediately, I jumped off and escorted the impetuous filly to a small, wooden bus shelter, so that the rain could not distract her. When I looked back, I could see a narrow figure appear through the fleeting raindrops. The car was parked on the side of the road and I wondered what on earth they were doing approaching me after causing so much commotion already.

"Easy, now, Riley," I muttered and stroked her nose. Luckily it seemed to help.

"Oh, God, are you okay?"

I turned around to the owner of the voice, who had approached the booth, and unmistakably it was the man to whom my thoughts were so devoted. My heart jumped up with joy to see him again; as if it were a sign from the gods that it was he who was driving the roads at such merciless speeds.

"I'm okay," I answered, long forgotten and forgiven that he had given us such a shock. I pushed the reins into his hands and he took them without a doubt.

"Can you hold these for me for a second? I think my brace has slipped."

I fiddled at the leather and saw that indeed the buckle had let go.

"Are you always such a speed demon?" I laughed at him, and he smiled back, somewhat shy, inspecting Riley and her riddle as if they were a work of art.

"Even wrote a song about it!"

I shook my head, chuckled for a moment. In a strange way it felt natural that he was here again, holding the reins of my mare as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if for centuries this had been established in the infinite planetarium, as if all this time I had known that he would meet me here, where the rain clattered beside us on the earth and dark clouds wrinkled our sight. When he looked at me, his eyes seemed darker, brighter, more intense and above all more honest. For a moment we stood there, surrounded by the sound of nature.

"Look," he started, glancing down, "I'm really sorry."
For a split second my hand touched his arm. The soft fabric of an old, weathered blouse.

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

That was a lie, but it didn't matter. He moistened his pink lips and, somewhat assured that I had forgiven him, he looked at me candidly, like a child who knows that there is nothing left between him and another that could block a generous relationship.

"I meant what I said a couple of days ago! Why don't you stop by, after you're done?"

I started to gloat, but I don't think I was more enthusiastic than he was. For a moment I looked up at the sky, where a single ray of sunshine dared to shine through the deck. As if it was a whisper from heaven itself.

"Of course. I'll see you at three?"

—

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