The Emerald Horseshoes

by Jane Josephs

  Her teasing demeanor nearly undid him. She was flirting with him, and he was enjoying it. How long had it been since he’d felt this good? His gaze swept over her tight jeans and skimpy tank top. His cheeks heated again. “And you didn’t . . . when you put that outfit on?”

  Alison laughed again and turned, striding after Richie and Emma while he stood there, trying to catch his breath.

  “Enjoy the view,” she called, swinging her hips.

  “Oh, I am,” Nick said under his breath, his eyes following her until she disappeared in the barn. He ran his hand through his hair, and grinned. The girl made him crazy, and she knew it. With a long sigh he picked up the can of paint and his brush and went back to work. But his heart felt lighter, hopeful. Maybe next week they could go riding together.

  ~ ~ ~

  Alison dismounted and led Mae over to Richie. “Thanks for a great lesson. You’re a natural teacher, you know that?” She fell in step beside him and Emma, leading Mae into the barn. It had been an amazing morning, her sense of accomplishment riding high. Richie had made her ride bareback to begin the lesson, just as Nick had last week. But within minutes, he asked her to begin trotting, then urged her to try cantering. Just as she was getting the hang of how to ride bareback, he called a halt and had her saddle Mae. Then, back in the ring, he had her go through all the gaits again, this time with both hands on the reins.

  Alison swiped a hand under her hair, lifting it to allow cool air to fan her neck, and stared up at the house. She had followed Nick’s progress on the back of the house, from one window to the next, in-between giving her full concentration to staying on Mae. He was still on the ladder and about halfway finished, as far as she could tell, with painting the trim on the large kitchen window. The scene at the car flashed through her mind and she smiled. With or without his shirt, Nick did crazy things to her insides. But this new Nick, the one who’d looked her up and down with appreciation in his eyes, had lifted her hopes to a whole new level.

  “Before we finish, Richie,” Alison said, “can you teach me how to jump up on Mae like you do on Max?”

  “You mean without using the stirrups?”

  “Yes, like that. You know, the same way that you just sort of throw yourself up on Max’s back. Can you teach me?”

  “Sure. Let’s get the horses unsaddled and out in the paddock. We’ll use hay bales to practice this week, then try it with the horses next time.”

  Ten minutes later, they had finished unsaddling and grooming the horses. Alison put the curry combs and brushes away with Richie while Emma led her horse, Lucy, to the barn door and turned her out.

  “I’ll get a bale of hay,” Emma said, passing by Alison and Richie on her way to the stall where the hay was stored. “I want to learn how to do it, too.”

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Alison said, after jumping a few times on the haybales Richie and Emma had stacked in the middle of the barn corridor. She rubbed at her arms where the hay had poked her, leaving scratch marks.

  Richie started to unbutton his long-sleeved shirt. “You and Emma can share my shirt.”

  “No, no,” Alison said, a note of panic in her voice. She could only imagine Nick’s outrage if he walked in on Richie taking off his shirt. Even if he had greeted her without his. A smile escaped before she could help it. Her cheeks heated. “Let’s use one of the blankets I saw in the tack room.”

  “Oh, good idea.” Richie jogged down the corridor and returned with a horse blanket. He threw it over the stacked hay bales. “Emma, why don’t you try it?”

  “Okay, here goes,” Emma said as she took two steps and jumped. Shorter than Alison by a good six to eight inches, she didn’t quite get her leg all the way over the hay. Plopped on the floor, she started laughing. “Well, I guess it’s just a little higher than I thought.”

  Richie hurried over and helped her up. “You almost nailed it. Try again. You’ll get it this time.”

  With the blanket in place to protect their arms, both women were soon able to jump onto the stacked hay bales.

  “Okay, now it’s time to add a little more height,” Richie said. Removing the horse blanket, he hoisted another bale on top of the others. Emma and Alison groaned.

  “You’re up, Alison,” Richie said.

  Alison eyed the height, took a deep breath and ran at the hay bales. With her adrenaline pumping, she totally overshot her mark, tumbled over to the other side, and landed in a heap. She looked up . . . into Nick’s laughing eyes.

  “That was some vault,” he said, offering her his hand.

  When had he come in the barn? Alison’s heart flip flopped. “Thank you.” She took his hand and let him pull her up, noticing immediately that he had put his tee shirt back on. Even so, the sight of his chest was impressive. Embarrassed to be caught thinking about his physique, she pushed her hair out of her face and finally met his gaze. “I used to be on the track team in high school. Hurdles were my thing. I guess it’s like riding a bike. You remember how to ride as soon as you get back on.” She grinned. “In my case, how to jump.”

  Richie and Emma came over. “Are you okay, Alison?” Richie asked, suppressing a laugh. “That was some jump.”

  “No laughing, buddy! I’m fine. Just a little bruised is all.”

  Nick stepped back and motioned with his hand. “Ma’s got lunch ready. She wants you to join us, if that’s okay with you. She sent me to ask you to come get washed up.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Richie said, pumping his fist. “Ma’s enchiladas. My favorite.” Turning with Emma, the two headed for the barn door.

  “Don’t we need to put this stuff away?” Alison called after them. But they were already out the door. She glanced at Nick, a memory of his clean truck cab flashing through her mind. “I promise, I’ll clean this up right after lunch.”

  “And I’ll hold you to it,” he said, mischief flashing in his dark eyes. “After I’ve seen you try that leap a few more times.”

  Shoving her hands in her back pockets, Alison walked with Nick out of the barn and up the slope toward the house. “You enjoyed my performance, did you?”

  He chuckled. “I found it somewhat entertaining.”

  Alison bumped his shoulder with hers. “Just somewhat, huh? Well, how about this, then?” She pointed to the horseshoe pit she’d seen near the house. “I’ll play you a game of horseshoes after lunch, before I try haybale vaulting again. And if I win, you go to the Symphony with me next week. That will be plenty more than somewhat entertaining.” She stopped walking, her stomach clenching as she waited for his response.

  Nick stopped, too. He ran his hand over his hair. “The Symphony, huh? So, you’re a classical music kind of girl?” He grimaced. “Next week’s the Tour. I may not be available, depending on the day.”

  “Oh! What are you touring?”

  “I’m not touring. I’m in charge of The Tour, along with the other instructors. It’s the equivalent of the SEALs Hell Week, but for SWCCs, it only goes for three days. It’s just as intense, though. I’ve got the day shift, seven a.m. to seven p.m. We finish Wednesday evening.”

  “Well, that will work. My tickets are for Friday.”

  “You already bought tickets?” He started walking again.

  “My grandma always bought season tickets. We used to go together. I love the symphony and still go sometimes by myself or give the tickets to friends.”

  Alison worked her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting, hoping Nick wouldn’t say no. How could they start over, if he wouldn’t give her a chance to show him she could play nice?

  “The Symphony, huh?” he said again. “I’m not a huge fan . . . but okay. And if I win? Which I will . . .”

  Alison shrugged. “You get to name your prize.” At his raised eyebrows, she clarified, “Within reason, of course.”


  He didn’t hesitate. “We go to a Padres game.”

  “Deal. I love the Padres.”

  “Hmmm. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? But okay.”

  “Actually, I like the hot dogs better than the game.” At his shocked expression, she quipped, “I’m teasing. Seriously, I love baseball.”

  “Well, okay then. How do you feel about enchiladas?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Nick crossed to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet to wash his hands, his mind spinning. What had he just agreed to with Alison? Win or lose, he’d committed to spending more time with her. Is that what he wanted? He stifled a laugh. Something about talking with Richie last week had set him free where Alison was concerned. That, and prayer. The Lord’s presence had been so real to him, all day, every day, since he’d been praying about Richie, and stopped trying to fill Dad’s shoes, as Ma had said. And prayer had made him think long and hard about Alison, and what he needed if they were to have a relationship. His brother’s chatter about love languages had helped, too. With a shake of his head, Nick turned off the water and dried his hands on a paper towel. It probably wouldn’t hurt to take a look at Richie’s book. Maybe he would learn a thing or two about himself.

  Emma and Richie had already sat down together on the far side of the table. Nick pulled out a chair for Alison and sat beside her. At the head of the table, Ginny stretched out her hands to pray. “We always give thanks in this house for our daily bread, so will you join me?”

  Nick reached for Alison’s hand, palm up. With a quick glance and a tentative smile, she placed her hand in his, the soft texture a marked contrast to his rough, calloused palm. She reached across the table for Richie’s hand and closed her eyes.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you so much for your love and your provision for us. I’m thankful today, too, Lord, for my sons and these two lovely young women you’ve brought into our lives. Bless them all, Lord. Lead them and guide them. Hold them close in your care and let the desires of their hearts bring glory to your name. Come and be our guest now, Lord, and nourish us with your good bounty. In your wonderful name, we ask it, Jesus, Amen.”

  Nick glanced at Alison as she withdrew her hand from his. “Are you okay?”

  She turned to him, her breath hitching as she whispered. “That prayer was just so beautiful. I . . . I don’t think anyone’s ever prayed for me like that.” She reached for her napkin, her cheeks growing pink with embarrassment.

  Nick didn’t know what to say. All his life, for as long as he could remember, his mother and father had prayed over him and his brother with those same kinds of petitions and requests. Not that it had kept him from straying from the Lord for a while. Nick bowed his head, remembering his gradual slide into sin. Especially after he’d met Carrie. He shook off the wave of shame that filled him. He’d come back to the Lord. Maybe somehow, he could help Alison find her way to Him, too.

  “Nick! Pass the rice, please.”

  Startled from his thoughts, Nick looked up to see Richie’s outstretched hand. “Sorry. Here you go.” He lifted the bowl of Mexican rice that was sitting in front of him and handed it to Richie. Taking the enchiladas from his mother, he leaned to Alison. “You better take what you want now. Looks like they’re going fast.”

  Alison laughed and inspected the half-empty pan of enchiladas. “You’re right. Why is it that I think you’re going to take whatever I don’t?”

  Nick’s eyebrows lifted. “You read my mind?”

  Alison quickly helped herself to two enchiladas, leaving four for Nick.

  “Eat up, mister. The horseshoes are waiting.”

  “Don’t forget. So are the haybales.”

  Chapter 12

  With the chalkboard in place to keep score, Nick handed Alison two horseshoes. “Do you want a couple of practice shots?” he asked, pulling a ruler out of his back pocket.

  “Sure, since I haven’t played in a while. What’s the ruler for?” she asked.

  “To measure how close the horseshoe is to the post. It’s got to be six inches or less from the post to score a point.”

  “You’re a stickler for the rules, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He laughed. “What? You’re not?”

  Alison grinned, enjoying the teasing note in Nick’s voice. “I don’t consciously think of myself as a rule-keeper, but I guess I am. Most of the time anyway.” She stepped to the end of the horseshoe pit and assessed the distance to the post. “Here goes,” she said and tossed the horseshoe. It landed a foot away from the post. She turned to Nick. “Guess that pitch made you feel good, didn’t it?”

  “It wasn’t bad, but yeah, you’ll have to do a little better than that to beat me.”

  “Such confidence, Mr. Reid,” she said. “But you know the expression, ‘Pride goes before a fall,’ don’t you?” She tossed her second horseshoe, this time ringing the post.

  Nick laughed. “I’ve heard it said a time or two. Point taken, Ms. Dockerty. So, are we playing ‘shoes’ or ‘points’?”

  “Hmmm . . . if we play ‘shoes,’ we each get ten turns, and throw two horseshoes on each turn, right?”

  Nick nodded. “And we tally the points at the end for the winner.”

  “Okay, let’s play ‘shoes.’ Do you want a couple of practice shots?”

  “Yeah, let’s see if I can cancel your ringer.” He swung the horseshoe a few times before letting it go. It landed on top of Alison’s.

  “I don’t believe it!” Alison gasped, clapping her hands together.

  “Don’t feel so sure of yourself now, do you?” But his next pitch sailed over the post and bounced.

  Alison laughed and walked to the post to retrieve her horseshoes. “This is going to be a good game. It looks like we’re pretty well matched.” She bent to pick up her horseshoe, and chuckled. Nick’s horseshoe had landed so that together with hers they made a heart shape around the post.

  “What are you looking at?” Nick squatted next to her. “Looks like a heart, doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “If this happens in our game, you know, neither of us gets any points.”

  Alison lifted his horseshoe off hers and handed it to him with a smile. “Yep, I know. But I’m pretty sure the way our horseshoes landed is an omen. A sign that I’m going to win.” She retrieved her other horseshoe and went to the starting line, a smile dancing at the corners of her lips. “Do I get to go first?”

  “Of course. Ladies always go first.” He stepped back, giving her some space.

  Alison’s first pitch landed and flipped, leaning against the post. “Aw, bummer!” She lined up to throw her second pitch. This time she nailed it, her horseshoe ringing the post. She gave a whoop of joy and turned to Nick.

  “Beginner’s luck,” he teased, but he held up his hand for a high-five.

  Alison smacked his hand with hers. Nick turned away to mark her score on the chalkboard. “I guess I should tell you, in all fairness, that I’m technically not a beginner. My grandma put a horseshoe pit in her backyard in Pasadena when I was a sophomore in high school. We played every time I visited. Bocce Ball and Croquet, too. And, she had a putting green.”

  “Nice grandma. So, do you play golf or just putt around?”

  “Wise guy!” Alison laughed. “My handicap is twelve. How about you?”

  Nick’s eyebrows lifted. He shook his head and laughed. “Not that good. But I don’t play often, either. My turn to pitch.” He picked up a horseshoe and tossed it quickly. It landed an inch from the post. He turned to Alison, his eyes dancing as he strode toward her. “Stop distracting me.”

  She backed up, hands up. “I didn’t move a muscle.”

  “Well, see that you keep it that way,” he said over his shoulder as he reversed directions and snatched up his second horseshoe. But the laughter in his voice bel
ied his command.

  ~ ~ ~

  Halfway through the game, they were tied, and Nick couldn’t remember ever having so much fun playing horseshoes. “Round six,” he called, enjoying the sight of her as she bent to pick up her horseshoe. Did she know that the tip of her tongue peeked out between her lips each time she stepped up to pitch? Nick silently laughed. Keep your head in the game, man.

  “How’s it going with you and Rufus?” he asked before Alison could step up to pitch.

  She laughed, twisting the horseshoe in her hands. “It’s been amazing. Who knew that having a dog would make me every other dog owner’s new best friend? It’s crazy. Rufus is with his new girlfriend today, a darling Bichon Frise named Rennie, who lives with Sally in the condo below me. The dogs met on an afternoon potty break and it was love at first sight.” Alison laughed. “Sally’s a hoot, too. She’s a widow who recently retired, and she loves to play poker. I’m invited to join the Poker Posse—that’s what she calls her friends—for a game next Tuesday.”

  “Are you going?”

  “Should I?”

  “Depends on whether your grandmother taught you how to play poker, too. Along with everything else.” At Alison’s quick laugh, he asked, “Did she?”

  “What do you think?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “I think I wish I’d known your grandma.”

  Alison sighed. “She would have loved you, Nick.”

  Nick cleared his throat, embarrassed and touched by Alison’s words. “Thanks.” He nodded to the horseshoe in Alison’s hands. “Your turn, remember?”

  ~ ~ ~

  “I can’t believe you beat me!” Nick shook his head and offered his hand to Alison. “Congratulations.”

  “By one point, so not much to brag about there,” Alison said, her hand engulfed in Nick’s. “It was a good game. I had fun.” She withdrew her hand and bent to pick up the horseshoes. “Do you want to put these away while I go clean up the barn?”