The Emerald Horseshoes

by Jane Josephs

  Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re joking! No way, Alison. Travis loves me. And I love him. You can keep your silly trolley ride. That’s just lame. Like, what are you, fifty years old or something?” Emma laughed, her derision for Alison dripping off her tongue as she got out of the car and slammed the door. Grabbing Travis’ arm, the two hustled in the opposite direction of the car. Frustrated, Alison dropped her head and sighed. “Great, just great, Emma.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The night air closed around Nick. He gazed at the heavens in awe, but his mind was on Alison. What would it be like to share this moment with her? To wrap his arms around her and experience all this beauty together? Would she laugh if he quoted the psalmist’s words, “The heavens declare the glory of God?” Nick sighed, silently praying for God’s guidance. In a matter of weeks, Alison had disrupted his thoughts and challenged his feelings. Made him hungry for something more with her. But was she God’s plan for his life?

  He switched on the flashlight feature on his phone and turned toward the path to the barn. “I’ll get the horses in,” he said to Richie. “You check on Ma.”

  “Okay,” Richie said, hitting the button to lower the garage door.

  With no moon to light his path, he walked carefully, not wanting to misstep and turn an ankle. Not with the Tour starting tomorrow. Only twelve students still had a chance to become SWCCs. They were all that remained out of a group that had begun originally with forty. Would the Tour take out a few more, as it often did?

  The side barn door was shut, a sure sign that Ma had already brought in the horses. Nick opened the door and went inside, shut off his phone flashlight, and turned on an overhead light. He hated that Ma did chores he or Richie should have taken care of. Dad wouldn’t approve of his ‘Ginny Jo’—as he liked to call her—working so hard. So, you worked yourself to death instead, Dad. The thought came unbidden. Full of pain and grief. His dad hadn’t wanted to die. Of that Nick was sure. Never in a million years would he have chosen to leave his family. Especially Ma. The two of them were partners, lovers, and friends. There had never been a time when Nick hadn’t seen them working together as a team.

  I want that, too. The thought punched him in the gut. He hadn’t had that kind of partnership with Carrie. Not really. When trouble came, she hadn’t known how to be a team player. The remedy to their little mistake, as she called it, had been all about her. What she wanted. Nick shook off his anger and crossed to Mae’s stall. The mare’s head stuck out over the half door of her stall. He stroked her long face. “Ma’s been here, hasn’t she? Doing my job.”

  Nick glanced at the other stalls, hearing the rustling of straw, before turning back to Mae. “Looking for a treat, aren’t you, girl?” He rubbed her ears. A picture of Alison trotting, then cantering this morning on the little spotted mare flashed through his mind. She had caught him watching her once and waved.

  A grin tugged at Nick’s lips. He smoothed his hand under Mae’s lips and was rewarded with a wet tongue licking. “I like her, Mae. I’m not going to lie to you. I like her a lot. She’s got me tied in knots, looking all hot and sassy in those skinny jeans.” Nick laughed. “But you’re right. I can’t let my head go there. I’m going to check on your friend Dotty. See how she’s doing. I’ll bring you an apple in the morning.” With a final pat on the mare’s neck, he crossed the barn to the foaling stall where he’d started putting Dotty at night. She still had five or six weeks until her due date, but he wanted her comfortable with her environment when her time came to deliver her foal.

  He opened the stall door. Dotty took a couple of steps in his direction, her nose sniffing for a treat. “You, too, pretty girl? You’re eating for two, I know. But you and Mae will have to wait. No treats tonight.” He ran his hand over Dotty’s back and down her side, laughing when the foal moved under his hand. “Not long, little one. Just be patient in there.”

  He straightened and rubbed Dotty’s neck. “What do you say? You miss my old man, too, don’t you? He’d be real proud of you. And beyond happy about the foal on the way.” Nick let his hand rest on Dotty’s withers. The responsibility to see that his dad’s horse had a healthy foal weighed heavily on his shoulders. Had it not been for the agreement Dad had signed a month before he died to breed Dotty to Blaze of Knight, a well-known stallion in El Cajon, Nick would have waited a while before acquiring any more horses. Like until after Richie finished college. But the deed was done, as planned, and it was up to him to make it work.

  With a final pat on Dotty’s neck, Nick left the stall and checked the other horses. Turning his phone light back on, he flipped the overhead switch off and went out the side door of the barn. There’d be plenty more to do for the horses before church in the morning.

  ~ ~ ~

  The church’s multipurpose room was in full swing when Nick arrived on Thursday evening to help set up the room for the Arts and Crafts Festival. A couple thousand people would come to the annual event on Friday and Saturday, many knowing that a percentage of the proceeds would go to support local and global mission work. Waving to Ma, Nick crossed to the storage closet in time to greet two men carrying out a six-foot-long table.

  “Hi, Jeff, Steve,” Nick passed the men and grabbed a table, carrying it into the big room. “What’s the plan?” he asked, setting up his table beside the one Jeff and Steve were setting up. “These tables in a big U-shape, same as last year?”

  “Yeah, that’s the way we’re setting the long tables. The round ones get set up with chairs over on the other side of the U.” Jeff pointed to the church kitchen. “The stage is going to be at the far end to the right of the kitchen this year.”

  A half hour later, all the tables were in place and a group of men had begun to work on the temporary stage. Nick wandered over to his mother’s table, where she was setting out her strawberry jam and lemon curd.

  “I like the addition of the black tablecloths on the arts and crafts tables this year,” Nick said. A couple of women were covering each table with tablecloths that skirted to the floor.

  “It’s an expensive addition, but I think it looks great, too, and I bet we get a lot of use out of them for other things.

  “Hey, Nick!” A woman carrying a large storage tub hailed Nick.

  He crossed between the tables to take the tub from her. “Hi, Carol.”

  Her table display already half set up, Carol Finley pointed to the chair behind her table.

  “Just set the tub here, please. Thanks. Not sure I should be lifting the heavy stuff right now.”

  Nick moved back to the front of the table, resisting the urge to ask Carol why she shouldn’t lift heavy stuff. They’d known each other since high school, but he hadn’t seen her since the festival last year when she’d told him more than he wanted to know about her life and talked him into buying some earrings for Ma for Mother’s Day. She’d been eight months pregnant at the time. And thankfully, Ma had loved the earrings.

  “It’s nice to see you at the Festival again.” He glanced at her jewelry display, already covering half the table. “Ma told me you had a boy after I saw you last year. So, how many kids do you and Andy have now?”

  “Three. All boys. So, this time”—she patted her stomach—“I’m hoping and praying for a girl.”

  “When’s the due date?” He didn’t really want to talk about babies, given his own experience of losing the one he’d made with Carrie, but he couldn’t very well break off the conversation without being rude.

  “Oh, not until November. Maybe a Thanksgiving baby. Not sure, since I just took the test yesterday.”

  “Well, congratulations. I hope you get your wish.” Nick started to move away.

  “Don’t leave yet! Mother’s Day is coming, remember? Do you see anything you like?” She gestured to the mannequin bust displaying an attractive necklace and a group of other necklaces sh
e had elevated on a box near the back section of the table. “Give me just a minute and I’ll have some other stuff out. I’ve got some new designs that are really cool. Horseshoes set with emeralds. Very classy.”

  Feeling trapped, Nick glanced at the necklaces, not really seeing anything that interested him. A couple of bracelets were nice, but Ma didn’t usually wear bracelets.

  “Here are the new ones,” Carol said, opening a large square box filled with necklaces she had neatly arranged inside. Leaving the box open in front of Nick, she turned to the bin and lifted out several more boxes, placing them on the floor beside the chair.

  It only took one glance at the box of necklaces for Nick’s heart rate to accelerate. A vision of Alison flashed through his mind, smiling as she caught sight of the pregame horseshoe configuration they’d made together. An omen, she had called it. A sign. Nick took a deep breath, his thoughts racing. In the middle of the group of necklaces, on a delicate silver chain, two emerald horseshoes had been joined to make one heart.

  Chapter 14

  His suit was ready at the dry cleaners. Nick crossed the parking lot at the Navy base, planning to grab lunch, pick up his suit, and order some flowers to take to Alison that night. He inhaled a deep breath of salty ocean air. Had he really agreed to go to the Symphony? To sit through two hours of classical music with Alison? A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  The fragrance hit him as soon as he opened the door to the florist’s shop, the medley of delicate scents and colorful sights setting his stomach jumping. How long had it been since he’d bought flowers for a girl? He had occasionally grabbed Carrie a bouquet of roses at the grocery store on his way home. But never with as much forethought as he’d given to tonight’s date. He scanned the store without really seeing much, his thoughts jumbled. Did he dare give Alison roses? He dismissed the idea immediately. The necklace he’d impulsively bought last night had his adrenaline going through the roof every time he thought about giving it to Alison. What had possessed him? He didn’t begin to know her well enough to give her something so intimate.

  “May I help you?” The florist’s offer of help brought him back to the present with a start.

  “Ah, yes, actually, I’m interested in a bunch of, well, I’m not sure exactly sure what, but not roses. At least not all roses. Maybe tulips mixed with some other stuff? Like, spring flowers . . . yes, that’s it. Spring.” Why was he rambling like an idiot? It was just a date. He’d been to the Symphony before. In high school. Once. But not in a suit. And not with a beautiful woman like Alison.

  “Well, we just got in a shipment of lovely pink and white ranunculus. They always say spring. I could mix them with some tulips, roses, sweet peas, and lilacs. What color theme would you prefer—hot or cool?”

  Nick ran his hand though his hair, clueless about what she was asking. “Ah, what do you recommend?”

  The florist smiled, her blue eyes twinkling in a face lined with wrinkles. “Let me show you some ideas.” She led him to a walk-in cooler filled with buckets of flowers. A few arrangements sat on the shelves among the buckets. “Are the flowers for your mother?”

  Her gentle manner encouraged him to spill his guts. He clenched his teeth instead. “Uh, no, they’re for a-a friend.” You’re way beyond friend, bud. The collar of his tee shirt felt like it was choking him. Maybe he should take Alison a bottle of wine instead of flowers.

  “How about this color scheme? Soft pink is a favorite at this time of year.”

  She had walked into the cooler and was holding up a vase of pink and purple flowers for him to see. He didn’t know how or why he knew, but he was certain Alison would love the romantic look and feel of the arrangement. He licked his lips. “Yes, ah, okay. But, could you, you know, hold it here until about five o’clock? And put it in something so it won’t fall over and get ruined while I’m driving?”

  “Oh, sure, I’d be glad to.” She put down the vase and stepped out of the cooler, closing the door after her. “Let me put a sold tag on those flowers and then I’ll write you up a receipt. We’re open until six.” She took a clear plastic stick from a drawer and attached a sold card to the prongs at the end.

  Nick checked his wallet while she went back into the cooler with the stick. He had no idea what the cost of the arrangement was, but relief at having made the decision completely overruled his need to know.

  A few clicks on her keyboard later, she said, “I’m sure your friend will be very pleased.” She smiled, a knowing gleam in her eye. “The Ranunculus flower has a hidden meaning, you know? In flower language, it means ‘I am dazzled by your charms.’ Now, if there’s nothing else I can help you with, that will be $87.46.”

  Nick nearly choked. First, he’d paid close to a hundred bucks for a necklace he didn’t know when, or if, he should give to Alison, and now nearly as much for flowers that, somehow, unbeknownst to him before the florist’s disclosure, transmitted the exact thoughts he was doing his best to keep at bay. You’re in deep, man! Would Alison know about flower languages?

  Promising to be back at five, Nick went out the door of the shop, got into his truck and headed for the dry cleaners on automatic pilot. His stomach growled. He’d have to grab lunch at the Exchange after all. The flowers had taken twice as long as he had allotted, the cost leaving his wallet begging for another trip to the bank.

  Flashing his ID at the guard at the gate, Nick wedged his truck in between CJ’s Dodge Ram and a small Chevy Bolt. He climbed out and headed for the Exchange, his head spinning. First Richie and his love languages, now the little silver-haired florist with her flower languages. How many more hidden languages could there be?

  ~ ~ ~

  The timer chimed. Grabbing her oven mitten, Alison slid the bacon-wrapped water chestnuts out of the oven to cool, the aroma of brown sugar and chili sauce teasing her nose. On the island, a plate of warm antipasto squares sat beside snow peas, celery and carrot sticks, crackers, chilled shrimp, and cocktail sauce. She checked the time. Almost five-fifteen. Time for the artichoke dip to go into the oven.

  On the counter, a bottle of Los Carneros chardonnay and a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, both from Mi Sueno Winery in Napa Valley, sat waiting to be opened. Nick’s job when he arrived. If he arrived. Alison’s nerves spiked, her breathing shallow and fast. What if he didn’t come? She’d spent most of the week planning, buying, cooking, and baking for him. Reminding herself to stay positive, Alison forced herself to stop thinking about Nick and instead think about the lovely couple, originally from Mexico, who owned the winery and named their best wines after their children.

  Memories of Grandma Kate washed over her. She had surprised Alison spring break of her senior year of college by arranging a trip for them to take together to Napa Valley. Mi Sueno’s wine had been her favorite on their wine-tasting tour. She’d been buying it by the case ever since to give away to friends and to have on special occasions when she entertained. Like tonight.

  Alison set the water chestnuts on the island, pulled off the oven mitten, and swiped her hands down her apron front.

  “Nick’s on his way up, Ms. Dockerty.” Alison nearly jumped out of her stilettos at the announcement over the building intercom.

  “Okay, thanks, Bill.”

  Alison laid her apron on the counter and strode to the foyer. In the mirror over the console table, she leaned in to inspect her makeup. Satisfied she had done a decent job of giving her eyes some drama, she took a step back and smoothed her hand down the short skirt of her black lace dress. She turned slightly, pleased to see how the dress’s cap sleeves showed off her new biceps. Nick’s knock a half a minute later sent her pulse skyrocketing. Her hand on the doorknob, a three-count was all she could manage before opening the door and stepping back. A large bouquet of flowers filled the doorway.

  Nick peeked out from behind the flowers, a cocky grin on his handsome f
ace. “Flower delivery.”

  Alison’s nervousness vanished, replaced by the giggles. The flowers were stunning, one of the most beautiful arrangements she’d ever seen, the colors soft and romantic. But the arrangement was slightly overwhelming. Had he done it on purpose? Was he trying to impress her? Her giggles turned to laughter as she tried to take the vase from him.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t.” He pulled the vase away from her reaching hands. “Better let me set this mother down. It weighs a ton.” He followed her to the kitchen and set the bouquet on her dining room table.

  “It’s gorgeous, Nick, really. I love it. Thank you.” She shivered involuntarily. Trying to get her giggles under control, she stroked the petals of several flowers and sniffed others before turning to him. Her breath caught at how handsome he looked in his dark navy suit, striped tie, and baby blue shirt. “You look gorgeous, too.”

  Was that breathy whisper her voice? Her nerves had returned, racing from her neck to her toes and back again. The timer chimed. She jumped, a soft gasp escaping. Self-conscious, she crossed in front of him to the counter. He hadn’t said a word about how she looked. Did he like her dress? Had she put on too much perfume?

  She slipped an oven mitten over her hand. “I hope you’re hungry.” She turned toward the oven . . . and collided with Nick’s chest. In one smooth move, he steadied her and captured her chin with his hand. The air between them sizzled.

  He dropped his gaze to her lips an instant before he kissed her. Light, gentle, the feel of his lips moving over hers sent a thrill down to her toes. Alison melted against him. The next moment, he released her and stepped back. Smiling, he took the oven mitten off her hand, slipped it on his, and opened the oven door.

  “I just thought we should get that out of the way,” he said, pulling the pan of artichoke dip out of the oven and flashing her a wickedly suggestive grin. “Where do you want this?”