The Emerald Horseshoes

by Jane Josephs

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a lot of work, too.”

  Leaving Alison on her own, Richie took hold of Lucy’s bridle. “Do you . . .” Emma grabbed the reins and mounted easily. “Looks like you’ve had some experience,” he said, his approval obvious.

  Alison stroked Mae’s neck. “Hey, sweet girl,” she crooned. “Do I get any help over here?”

  Richie vaulted into his saddle in one smooth move and turned Max. “Oh, sorry, Alison.”

  “Sure, sure. I see I’ve been replaced.” Alison got on Mae and turned to follow Richie. But inside, she was relieved. Emma needed to spend time with people her age. Maybe some time with Richie would help her see how important it was to go back to school and try again.

  Half an hour later, Alison guided Mae to the side of the corral so she could watch Emma and Richie take turns barrel racing. They were both as much at home on the back of a horse as she used to be at the lavish parties her parents hosted at their home in L.A. Alison sighed. What had once been a way of life for her, had changed drastically when her mother announced she had become a Christian and wanted nothing more to do with Daddy. Her mother’s attitude saddened her. How could she believe in a God who broke up marriages? It had turned Alison off Christianity. At least, until she met Kayla, Nick, and their friends. Now, she wasn’t sure what to think. What did they know about God that made them talk and act like they did? Even Kayla had been kind and forgiving when Alison apologized to her about the blog. But Nick was another matter entirely. Could he ever trust her again? Did he want to?

  “Hey, Alison!” Richie called, startling her out of her morose thoughts. “We’re going up to the woods.”

  “Not without me, you’re not.” Alison turned Mae to follow. But in no time, Richie and Emma were almost all the way across the field to the tree line, cantering and laughing. “Okay, Mae. We’re going to try that trot we practiced with Nick on Saturday. And no funny business, you hear?” Grabbing the saddle horn in a death grip, Alison brushed her heals against Mae’s sides and trotted after Richie and Emma.

  ~ ~ ~

  With a few strokes of her brush, Alison quickly gathered her hair into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. The coffee shop, where she was a regular most Saturday mornings, would be opening in fifteen minutes and she wanted to be there when it did. Quickly finding a pair of black skinny jeans, a pink tee shirt, and a black and pink jacket from the built-in dresser in her closet, she got dressed.

  The elevator was slow, as usual, but Alison had her mind on other matters. Today was her third lesson, and she was excited to show off her trotting skills to Nick. She grinned. After catching up to Richie and Emma on Wednesday, her legs had been like jelly when she got off Mae. But she had trotted all by herself, across the field and up to the campfire. Next, Richie promised, he was going to teach her how to jump on Mae like he did on Max.

  The elevator arrived and Alison pushed the button for the lobby, her stomach rumbling at the thought of the orange scone she was planning to buy for her breakfast. She’d get one for Eddie, too. Or maybe he would prefer a cranberry one. She’d stop and ask him, if he was awake.

  A chilly March breeze blasted her as she opened the door of her building. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she approached the spot where Eddie camped out, his face hidden under the wool blanket she had given him for Christmas. The only sign he was “home” was the pompom on his red knit hat that peeked out at the top of the blanket, and the few meager possessions he kept nearby. Rufus was nowhere to be seen. Smart dog, hiding down under the covers where it’s warm.

  Inside the coffee shop, Alison inhaled the rich, robust aroma of coffee and the teasing sweetness of pastries. This was her place. At least it had been until she signed up for CrossFit and met Nick. Grinning, she stepped to the counter to order, her thoughts on Nick. What would he teach her today?

  “Morning, Ali.” The barista smiled. “The usual? Or are you ready for something different? Our baker is trying out a new scone today—using ginger and figs. We’d love to hear what you think of it.

  A picture of Ginny Reid popped in Alison’s head. Tall and thin with lovely dark-brown eyes, a ready smile, and her hair caught up in a ponytail, Nick and Richie’s mom had been warm and friendly after each horseback riding lesson, always inviting her in for something sweet and delicious to eat after her lesson. “You’re right. I should try something new. I’ll take six. I have some new friends I can share them with. But I also want a cranberry scone and a caramel latte for Eddie, and the usual black coffee and orange scone for me. To go, please.”

  “You still taking those riding lessons?” he asked as he turned to get her order ready.

  “Yep. I learned to trot last week. It was brutal.” She grinned. “Good thing I have a big bathtub with jets and a great masseuse.”

  Alison wandered over to the display of gourmet chocolate and picked up a bag of dark chocolate-covered coffee beans. The first time she’d bought them, she’d eaten a handful and had the shakes for three hours. But popping a couple came in handy when she needed a boost. “I’ll take these, too, Jose.” Getting her credit card out of her pocket she paid for her order, grabbed the coffee beans, the bag of scones and the tray with the coffee, and headed for the door. “I’ll see you next week,” she called as she pushed open the door.

  Once outside in the brisk air again, Alison power walked to her street and turned the corner, intent on giving Eddie his latte before it got cold. In minutes, she noticed that he hadn’t stirred, but Rufus was barking.

  “Easy, puppy. I’m sure Eddie will share.” Alison knelt beside the dog and set the drinks and the bag of scones on the sidewalk so she could pet him. She glanced at the sleeping man and raised her voice. “Hey, Eddie. I brought you some coffee and a scone.” Eddie didn’t stir as he usually did when she brought him coffee. Not even a twitch.

  Puzzled, Alison looked at the blanket over Eddie’s face. It wasn’t moving. He was breathing under there, wasn’t he? Her stomach clenched in fear, her adrenaline kicking in. In all the months she had known him, Alison had never touched him. But now, without lifting the blanket, she pushed against his shoulder. He didn’t stir.

  “Eddie! Eddie!” Her heartrate picked up. Why wasn’t he moving? Rufus’ barking got louder; he began prancing in place. Panic seized Alison. She shook the homeless man, harder this time. The blanket slipped.

  “Oh my God,” she choked out, gasping for air. Eddie’s face was grayish white, his eyes closed, his lips parted and blue. He lay perfectly still, stiff. The coffee forgotten, Alison began to moan, fear nearly paralyzing her. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. Rufus jumped in her lap, barking furiously. “I’ve got to get help,” she cried, reaching into her back pocket for her phone. With trembling hands, she brushed Rufus off her lap, stood and dialed 911. But she had a horrible feeling that she was too late.

  ~ ~ ~

  Fresh from his shower, the old plaid arm chair and ottoman in the corner of his bedroom beckoned. Nick grabbed his Bible and study book and settled in to review the material he was presenting tomorrow to the adult Sunday School class. Alison usually arrived early for her riding lesson, but that still gave him almost twenty minutes to look over his notes.

  He opened the study guide to the lesson and shook his head. How like the Lord to arrange for him to lead this lesson at a time in his life when he needed to hear it the most. The previous sessions in The Gift of Mercy had been both convicting and helpful in his struggle to forgive Alison and put their relationship on the path to friendship. But tomorrow’s memory verse from the book of Proverbs had hit a bull’s eye in his world: Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

  Nick rubbed his cheek and jaw. Although he’d only read Alison’s blog once, her words had pierced him. What had she been thinking? And
now, almost three weeks later, why wouldn’t her words get out of his head? He put his book down, wrapped his hands around his head, shut his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. “Help me here, Lord,” he prayed. But he already knew why her sentiments wouldn’t leave him alone. Some of what she had written had been the truth.

  The Bible verse ran through his mind again. . . . the tongue of the wise . . . Could he ever really trust Alison enough to bring healing to their relationship? To be reconciled with her? Being attracted to her didn’t mean he had to act on it. Nick frowned. Easier said than done. It had been over a year and a half since he’d gone out on a date, or even thought about wanting to. Until he met Alison. Carrie’s betrayal had seared his heart, her actions leaving him tormented with grief and anger. He had bottled up his heartache and avoided talking about it. He knew how to hold in his emotions and get through the pain, mental and physical. Wasn’t that part of what the Navy had taught him, so he could survive?

  Picking up his book again, he tried to focus on the lesson. But it was no use. He checked the time. Ten minutes after nine, and Alison hadn’t arrived for her lesson.

  Chapter 9

  “Richie, have you heard from Alison?” Nick asked, his concern mounting. She hadn’t responded to his text. Sprawled on the sofa, Richie had his phone in his hands, playing a game.

  “Nope. I texted her twice, but no answer.”

  Nick clamped down on his worry and went out to the veranda. Hands on his hips, he stared at the riding ring. He hadn’t saddled the horses, preferring to do it with her so she would get comfortable with the chore. Sure, Nick, tell me another one. Swiping his hand over his face, he began to pace. Had she changed her mind about wanting to learn to ride? Last week’s experience had scared her, but she’d stayed on Mae and worked hard to conquer her fear. By the end of the lesson, she had made it around the ring several times. Of course, he had stayed close, just as she’d asked. Today, he wanted to show her how fun cantering could be. He stopped pacing and checked his watch again. Nine-thirty. It didn’t look like he’d get the chance.

  Unbuttoning his long-sleeve shirt, he went into his bedroom to change. Might as well get in a workout in the garage. If she did decide to come, he’d see her when she arrived.

  Nick opened the door from the house to the garage, surprised to find Richie had beat him to the space he’d converted to an exercise room, and was already lifting weights. He found the thin pole he used in his stretching exercises and began his routine without speaking. Richie had seen last week’s mishap on Mae and hadn’t held back on chewing Nick out for it all week. He’d even gone so far as to write out a waiver for Alison to sign, thrusting it in Nick’s face with another ominous warning. Nick gritted his teeth and moved to sit on the rowing machine. He knew it made sense but didn’t want to mess with the fragile peace they’d developed last week.

  Nearly finished with his routine, Nick heard Spade bark, and looked up to see Alison’s car. Relief that she hadn’t been in an accident flooded through him. He got off the rowing machine, wiped the sweat from his face and neck, and went to see why she was late. Richie beat him to it and opened Alison’s car door. She hadn’t put the top down today. Vaguely wondering why, when it was a beautiful, sunny day, he heard Richie ask why she hadn’t brought Emma with her. Nick blinked. How did Richie know Emma, and more to the point, why would Alison bring her to the ranch? He was about to ask when Rufus jumped out of Alison’s car and ran toward him. Spade barked furiously and loped after Rufus. Surprised to see the homeless man’s dog, Nick scooped up Rufus, patted Spade, and turned to Alison. His heart leaped to his throat. She had been crying.

  Standing in the circle of Richie’s arms, his brother’s soft words of comfort reached Nick. Tears poured down Alison’s cheeks. It took every ounce of control inside him not to knock Richie aside and take his place. Are you crazy, man? Holding Rufus, he walked to her. “What’s happened, Alison?”

  “It’s Eddie.” Her voice hitched. “He’s dead. I bought him a latte . . .” She broke down sobbing.

  Nick became aware of two things at once. First, she had turned to Richie for comfort, crying in his arms. And second, Rufus smelled rank. “Let’s go inside,” he said, grimacing at Richie. “It looks like you’ve adopted Rufus.”

  Sniffing loudly, Alison stepped back, swiped at her cheeks and nodded. “I didn’t know what else to do when the police came. Eddie loved Rufus so much, I just couldn’t let them take him away. But I don’t know the first thing about how to take care of him.”

  “We can help you with that. No problem.” Richie’s arm remained around Alison’s shoulders as he led her to the back veranda. “That is, if you want to keep him.”

  Nick commanded Spade to stay outside and slid the back door open for Alison. The aroma of brownies masked the little dog’s odor for a moment. He stepped back so Alison and Richie could enter. But inside, the alarms in his head were sounding. What game was Alison playing now? Did Richie have any idea what she could do to him?

  At the sound of the door, Ginny turned from the sink and wiped her hands on a towel, her face breaking into a smile. “Alison, we were getting worried.” She scanned Alison’s face. “Oh, my. What’s happened, honey?” She wrapped her arms around Alison in a motherly hug. “Come sit down.”

  Rufus barked, startling Ginny. “And who’s this?” She petted the dog before turning back to Alison and drawing out a chair for her at the big oval table by the window. “Richie, would you put the kettle on for some tea for us, please?”

  “This is Rufus,” Nick said, taking a seat across from Alison. “His owner died this morning.”

  Ginny got up and lifted a box of tissues from the counter. “Here, honey, take all you need. I’m so sorry to hear about your friend.”

  Alison took a tissue and blotted her eyes before speaking. Drawing a shaky breath, she explained, “Eddie was a homeless Vietnam veteran who camped out on my street most nights when it wasn’t too cold.” Her smile wavered. “I shared some of your cookies and a little slice of my apple pie with him. He loved sweets.” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “Anyway, I went to get a latte for him this morning, like I sometimes do, and when I got back I couldn’t get him to wake up. I called the police, and they came with the paramedics, but it was too late. They said he’d probably been dead for several hours.” She pulled another tissue out of the box and wiped a tear that had adhered to her eye lash. “A couple of months ago, Eddie wasn’t feeling very well, and I was worried then about him dying. So, I asked him if he had any family. He said he had a son who lives in Sacramento, but they hadn’t spoken in years, and he didn’t think they ever would again.” Alison’s tears spilled. Her chin quivered. “I could tell he was deeply sad. He said he’d been a terrible father, that he hadn’t been there for his son because of his own problems.”

  Richie set a cup of tea in front of Alison without speaking. Turning, he brought another cup and set it in front of his mother.

  “Thank you, honey,” Ginny said, her eyes darting to Richie and back to Alison.

  “Eddie told me that when he died he wanted his body donated to medical research and his ashes scattered in the ocean. I did some digging to find out how he could do that and helped him get it in writing. I kept a copy, and it turned out I needed it, because the police weren’t inclined this morning to go through the stuff Eddie carried around with him all the time. But, I suppose someone will eventually.” She sniffed. “Or not. Anyway, I’m not a relative, so I’ve done all I can, I guess.” She removed the tea bag but just stared at the tea.

  Ginny patted her hand. “You were a good friend. There are not many people who would take the time to get to know someone living on the street.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for saying that. My Grandma knew Eddie before I did. She always used to tell me, ‘God doesn’t make junk.’”

  “She sounds like a very wise woman! A
nd now you have Eddie’s dog, Rufus. Have you thought about what to do with him?”

  “I didn’t have time to think it through this morning. The police were ready to call a shelter to pick him up, so I said I’d take him. I think that’s what Eddie would want. Rufus really smells awful though. I don’t even know, is there a special shampoo for dogs?”

  Ginny smiled. “There is, but the main thing is to keep soap out of his eyes. Why don’t we clean him up now? Then you’ll know how to do it next time.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Alison said.

  Nick stood and handed Rufus to her, his voice rough. “I’m going to change. Between the sweat and the dog, I could use another shower.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Gathering the clothes he had taken off when he thought Alison had stood him up for her riding lesson, Nick went into the bathroom and showered quickly. But his thoughts raced. When had Richie become so close to Alison? Had she told him about her blog? Written about him after that first riding lesson? He had promised himself he wouldn’t look at her blog again after checking to make sure she’d taken down the post about him. But the questions and the uncertainty wouldn’t go away. Alison was a popular blogger. Her career, she called it. She wouldn’t quit writing just because he’d called her on one blog post.

  Nick shut off the shower, dried himself and put his jeans and shirt back on. But his thoughts wouldn’t shut off as easily. How did Richie know about Emma? He wouldn’t ask him now, but he needed to know. Given Richie’s already rebellious behavior, a girl like Emma might lead him further astray. He already suspected Richie had been downtown in San Diego plenty of times with his friends. Had Alison hooked him up with Emma? Or did she have a thing for him herself? Intent on getting answers, Nick left the bathroom.