The Emerald Horseshoes

by Jane Josephs

  “No, we’ll just leave them out. Looks like I need more practice. You don’t want to practice vaulting over the haybales anymore?”

  “Very funny.” Alison dropped the horseshoes by one of the posts. “I’d like to practice some more, but I’m not sure I should leave Rufus so long.” She glanced at Emma and Richie talking together on the veranda. Did she dare call Sally and ask to stay a little longer? The thought of going home to her empty condo, with only Rufus for company, and spending another Saturday night alone, was depressing. Now that she’d spent time with Nick, the idea of going to the Gaslamp District to hang out and try to find some action had lost its appeal. Unless Nick went with her. Did she dare suggest it?

  “Do you have plans for this evening?” Alison asked, trying her best to sound like it was just a casual inquiry.

  Nick shrugged, tossing the piece of chalk he’d been holding into the air without meeting her gaze. “Tony said something about hanging out later with him and Kayla.” He grimaced. “Not really interested in being the third wheel, but it beats sitting at home, I guess.” Lifting the blackboard, he headed for the garage.

  Alison sighed. Was he just dense? Or had she been the only one having fun while they played horseshoes? She dismissed the thought immediately. Nick hadn’t been faking it. He’d been as engaged as she was. But if he didn’t want to feel like the third wheel with Kayla and Tony tonight, why couldn’t he just ask her to go with him? Alison huffed out a frustrated sigh. He probably thought it would be too much like a date. Riding lessons were one thing; going out would be something else. Then, with a start, she remembered: They would be going out. To the Symphony. With a laugh, she turned and headed down the path to the barn to clean up the haybales.

  ~ ~ ~

  Standing at the side door to the barn, Nick smiled. Alison hadn’t put the haybales away. Not without mastering the jump she had been trying to get right the last time he stood in this spot. He walked up to her. “Congratulations, again. How many tries did it take you to get up and stay up on the haybales?”

  “Very funny. This was my third try, my second victory.”

  “Did you overshoot on the one you missed?”

  “Underestimated. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “So, can I see you try it again?”

  “Okay, one more time.” Alison slid off the haybales and straightened the horse blanket. “No laughing allowed, you hear?”

  “Promise.” Nick grinned and stepped a few feet away.

  With three quick steps, Alison swung her leg up and vaulted onto the haybales.

  Nick clapped a few times. “You’ve got it! On hay, at least.” He came over to her as she slid off, taking the blanket with her. “I’ll fold that for you.” He folded it neatly and handed it back. “You can put this in the tack room while I get the hay put away, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Nick hauled the haybales back into the empty stall they used for storage. He’d done a quick check with Richie and Emma about going out with Tony and Kayla. Now, he just had to ask Alison. Did she really need to get home to Rufus? She’d asked about his plans . . .

  “Hey!” He met Alison coming out of the tack room. “Would you be interested in going out for a movie and pizza in a half hour? Richie and Emma gave it a thumbs-up.”

  Alison’s face creased in a smile and she clasped her hands together. “Yes! But what about Tony and Kayla?”

  Nick shrugged, doing his best to act nonchalant. “Tony said okay, too. Although he’s not crazy about the movie I suggested. They’re going to meet us at the theater.”

  “Which movie?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Alison nodded. “Okay. I guess. But the movie’s not filled with violence, is it? I get nightmares easily.”

  “It’s a mystery drama, based on a novel. Got good reviews.” Nick glanced around the area he’d just cleaned up. “I think this looks good enough. Do you need to check in with that lady about Rufus?”

  “Oh! Yes, thanks for reminding me. Having a dog to look after is a whole new level of responsibility for me.” Alison took her phone out of her back pocket and dialed as they walked. After a brief conversation, she turned to Nick. “She’s going to keep Rufus overnight. Do you believe that?”

  “That’s a pretty nice neighbor, if you ask me.”

  “Yeah, she is. And she knows I’ll pay her back, since I found out how much she loves my cooking.”

  “You cook?”

  “Very well, I’ll have you know.” She laughed. “Come early on Friday and you’ll see. In fact, come for appetizers before the concert, and then we’ll have dinner afterwards. I’ll make pulled pork. How’s that sound?”

  “Like a lot of cooking. We could just go out.”

  “I’d really rather cook—if that’s okay with you, that is.”

  “Well, yeah. Sounds good to me.” Nick shoved his hands in his pockets. His stomach had suddenly developed a case of nerves. What did he really know about Alison? Maybe they needed to have “the talk” over the pork on Friday. Before they got in too deep. Does Alison believe in God? What about Jesus? Questions he’d never asked Carrie. Until it was too late.

  They had reached the veranda, where Richie and Emma were hunched over a game of checkers.

  “Who’s winning,” Alison asked, glancing at Nick. He had knelt to pet the dog.

  “Richie,” Emma said, her mouth turning down in a frown. “He’s brutal. This is the third game we’ve played, and he’s won every time so far.”

  Alison glanced at the board. Emma could win this game if she paid attention. “Try this move,” she said, lifting Emma’s checker and jumping one of Richie’s. “Now you’ve got him.”

  “No fair,” Richie yelled, but he was laughing, too.

  Nick leaned over Richie’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’re toast. Just admit defeat and let’s get going to the movie.”

  Chapter 13

  The Pizza Grotto, sandwiched between a café and a gem store on Grand Avenue, was only minutes from the movie theater. Nick parked on the street behind Tony’s car, came around the front of the truck, and opened Alison’s door at the same time Richie opened Emma’s. Touched by their polite manners, Alison slid out of the truck. “Thanks. I’m not so much of a feminist that I don’t still like the door opened for me.” She walked toward the restaurant. “This place looks classic.”

  Nick chuckled. “It is. It’s been here since the ‘50s. Family owned.”

  “But is the pizza good?”

  “No, it’s terrible.”

  Alison laughed with him, the flutter of butterflies in her stomach growing stronger as they walked the short distance to the restaurant. Did she dare put her hand in his? Are you crazy? She swiped her hair behind her ear with the hand that itched to take Nick’s.

  He grabbed the door and held it open. Kayla led the way while Tony waited with Nick.

  Inside, Alison glanced at the take-out counter and pizza ovens on her left and crossed to the hostess station.

  “How many in your party?” The woman’s side ponytail trailed over her shoulder and down the front of her white tee shirt. A red apron with an order pad stuffed in one of the pockets covered the top half of her black skirt. Beyond the station, booths upholstered in red vinyl and tables covered in red and white checked tablecloths filled a narrow room. But it was the ceiling that commanded Alison’s attention. Empty, raffia-wrapped bottles of Chianti hung in clusters, each bottle decorated with names and shapes.

  The hostess glanced at the nearly full room, made a note on her table chart, and led them to a table for six that abutted a brick wall. Without thinking, Alison squeezed past two black chairs and took the seat next to the wall, opposite Kayla. Emma sat down next to her, leaving the men with no choice but to fill the seats at the end of the table.

&nbs
p; Alison sighed, disappointment at not sitting with Nick clouding her thoughts. If he was unhappy with the arrangement, he didn’t show it, his head already buried in the menu. The noise level in the room made it impossible to talk to him unless she shouted. But at least he had sat with her at the movie and shared his popcorn. That counted for something, didn’t it?

  The waitress appeared at their table, ready to take drink orders.

  “What do we have to do to get one of those?” Alison asked, pointing to the bottles hanging above them.

  “Order a bottle of our Chianti, and after you drink it, I’ll bring you some magic markers so you can decorate the raffia part, and we’ll hang it up for you.”

  Alison glanced across the table at Kayla and Tony before settling on Nick. His gaze met hers, mischief lighting his eyes. Alison’s heartbeat sped up.

  Kayla broke the spell between them. “Let’s do it.”

  Tony glanced at Nick. “You in?”

  “Why not?” Nick shrugged, winked at Alison, and turned to the waitress. “A bottle of Chianti. But bring us a pitcher of water and some glasses, too, please.” All business now, he leaned across the table. “Emma! What do you want to drink?”

  Emma hadn’t stopped texting since sitting down. At Nick’s raised voice, she finally glanced up from her phone. “Oh! What?”

  “What do you want to drink?”

  “Uh, uh, Coke, I guess.” She went back to texting.

  “I’ll have a Coke, too,” Richie said, arms folded on the table. “Do we know what we’re having yet? I’m starving.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” The waitress hurried away.

  “What about all that popcorn I bought you?” Nick laughed. “Or did Emma eat it?”

  Richie laughed, glancing at Emma and shaking his head. “Didn’t you see? She was bored stiff by the second or third scene and slept through the rest of the movie.”

  Nick frowned. “Guess I missed that.”

  The next few minutes were spent studying the menu and discussing pizza toppings. Kayla and Alison wanted mushrooms, peppers, and black olives with side salads. The men wanted meat. Emma said nothing, her thumbs flying over her key pad.

  With her annoyance at Emma’s poor manners growing, Alison finally said, “Emma, do you think you can put your phone away for a while? Join the party. Tell us what you want on your pizza.”

  Emma glared at Alison. “I’m busy, okay? So, chill!” Her sharp tone startled Alison. She stiffened, anger giving way to embarrassment. She glanced at Nick, the scowl on his face making it very clear that he’d heard Emma’s remark, and didn’t like it. She huffed a smile and shrugged, choosing not to reprimand Emma in front of everyone. That would come later. Emma needed to know she couldn’t speak to her like that.

  The waitress reappeared with their drinks and took their pizza order. Alison glanced at Emma, still texting, and turned to talk with Kayla. But not without a quick glance at Nick. He and Tony were already deep in conversation about the Tour that would start the next day, effectively shutting out the rest of them at the table. Even Richie had pulled out his phone.

  Kayla chuckled. “So, Alison. What’s your story? We never have enough time to talk at CrossFit, so other than knowing you grew up in L.A., I don’t know much about you.”

  “Not that much to tell. I went to college at Berkeley, majored in communication—like almost everybody else nowadays—and started blogging even before I graduated. I moved in with my grandmother when my college roommate got married, like, two days after we graduated. Then, Grandma Kate died last year, and I moved into the condo she owned in San Diego.”

  “What about your faith story? Do you believe in God?”

  Alison’s stomach clenched. “Well, sure, sort of. But I guess I was always taught that religion and politics weren’t good table topics.” She laughed, trying her best to put an end to the conversation. It was not to be. Kayla, who had always been friendly, was on a mission. Or so it seemed. For the next twenty minutes, as they waited for the pizza, Alison tried her best to listen objectively while Kayla talked about her love for God and his ways. But it was the questions Kayla posed—about what Alison believed—that were hardest to answer without getting defensive. Relieved when the pizzas finally arrived, and everyone started eating, Emma finally put away her phone, and Alison felt like she could breathe again.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Thank you for everything today, Nick,” Alison said, shrugging out of the jean jacket she’d borrowed from Ginny, and handing it to Nick. “Please thank your mom for me. I would have been really cold in the theater without her jacket.”

  “No problem. I’ll tell her.”

  They had made the twenty-minute trip back to Ramona from Escondido with Richie doing most of the talking while Emma continued to text on her phone. Standing beside Nick, Alison waited, hoping. Desperately wishing he would take her hand, kiss her cheek. Anything to pick up again with the easy camaraderie they’d shared earlier in the day. Instead, he seemed preoccupied.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” The guarded expression had returned to his eyes. Had he overheard her conversation with Kayla and been upset with her answers?

  Alison’s hopes crashed. What had she said or done now? Where was the playful guy she’d beat at horseshoes? Would he find some excuse to stand her up on Friday? All her doubts and insecurities about herself returned. She glanced at Nick. “Good luck with the Tour this week. I’ll see you Friday, okay?”

  Nick ran his hand through his hair and looked away. “The Symphony. Right.” He pulled open her car door.

  Alison’s already upset stomach heaved, not sure if he was teasing or if he really hated the idea of spending an evening with her, listening to music he disliked. Her head beginning to ache, she got in her car, grateful that Emma was already settled, and started the engine. “Should I text you to remind you?”

  “No, I’ll be busy with the Tour. I won’t forget. Drive carefully,” Nick said, and stepped away.

  Alison headed down the hill, her emotions all over the map. Why hadn’t she gone home after playing horseshoes with Nick? Then the memory of the day would have been so sweet. Instead, she silently groaned and glanced at Emma. The girl had embarrassed her today. More than that, she’d been incredibly rude and ungrateful, not even bothering to pitch in whatever she could afford for the movie or dinner. Not even thanking Nick afterwards. What do you expect? Her foster parents kicked her out. That tells you something, if you’d just listen.

  The voices in her head chided and mocked her for trying to do something good for someone. Especially when that someone obviously didn’t care about anyone but herself.

  Alison cringed, the next thought ripping at her conscience. Are you so different? Tears pooled in her eyes. Narcissism wasn’t a character trait she found attractive in others. When had she become that way herself? Loneliness and longing engulfed her. All her life she’d lacked for nothing, materially at least. But who besides her grandmother had ever truly loved her?

  Alison pressed on the brakes, her thoughts interrupted by the need to concentrate on the curvy road. But not for long. Kayla’s gentle words while they waited for the pizza drifted through her mind. God loves you, Alison. He has a purpose and a plan for your life.

  If only she could believe that! But instead of leaving it at those words of reassurance, like a bird at a cake of suet, Kayla had moved on to ask questions that pecked at her insecurity. If you could ask God one question, what would it be?

  The speed limit decreased to thirty-five and Alison eased off the accelerator. She scoffed. One question for God? One wouldn’t begin to be enough. Even if he did really exist and could answer back. What did it matter what Alison believed about God? Mom was happy in her new life as a Christian; a life without Daddy’s presence. So why not be happy for her? Dad was doing fine. Nothing new
there. His work had always been his mistress. Why couldn’t Alison just accept the way things were between the two of them and move on?

  She merged onto the I-15 freeway, then onto Highway 163. Was Nick thinking about her, maybe just a little? Outside Emma’s rundown apartment building, Alison put the car in park and turned to the girl. Quiet for the entire ride from Ramona, she now quickly unhooked her seat belt and reached for the door handle.

  Alison put out her hand to stop her from getting out of the car. “Are you free for lunch on Monday? I think we should talk.”

  “What?” Emma’s gaze jerked away from Alison. Her whole face lit up. A young man with shaggy blonde hair and a backpack slung over one shoulder was walking toward Alison’s car.

  “Emma, are you looking at that guy who’s coming toward us? Do you know him?” Her already upset stomach groaned. “You’re not hooking up with him, are you?”

  Giggling, Emma finally glanced at Alison. “That’s Travis. He’s been away, but he’s back now and we’re going to hang out tonight.”

  Alison stared at the young man, her frustration with Emma nearly overwhelming her. “So that’s Travis? I thought we talked about him a few weeks ago and agreed he probably isn’t the best friend for you. Remember how he stole twenty dollars from you last time?”

  “Yeah, but he needed it. You don’t understand. We just want to have some fun tonight. Don’t be so stuffy.”

  Awareness dawned on Alison. “He’s the one you’ve been texting all day, isn’t he? What’s he want? To smoke some dope tonight, get you drunk, and have sex? Emma, don’t do it. You’re better than that! Go on up to your room and lock the door. You don’t need him in your life.” A solution she’d never considered before hit her. “Emma! Why don’t you come home with me tonight? We could hang out tomorrow. Maybe ride the trolley over to Coronado?”