by Jaime Loren
I ran my hand through my hair. “There is something I’d love to show you, if you’re up to it. We’ve only got a couple of hours of sunlight left, and we probably won’t get the chance after Rowan and Stella arrive.”
“Does it involve sitting? Because my ass is numb and I’d really like to stretch my legs.”
I fought to keep from smiling. “You’ll get to do both. I’ll give you a moment to change into your jeans.”
*****
We drove along a dirt road behind the cabin until we came into a clearing fenced with pine logs. Just behind the fence stood a barn with a trailer beside it. April jumped out of the truck and ran to the gate, swinging around to look at me.
“Horses?” She bit her lip and raised her eyebrows.
I smiled. “Horses.”
“But, how? Is there another cabin nearby?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she scanned our surroundings.
“No. Nothing around for miles.” I could see the next question forming on her lips. “It’s a package deal,” I said. “We’ll drop them back at the stable on the way home.”
Even admitting the horses were mine would raise far too many questions. We’d told her I’d been in Zimbabwe for two years prior to moving to Jericho, but in reality I’d been living here for the past six decades. Definitely not something I could admit to.
Her face lit up. “God, Scott, this is awesome! I could totally hug you right now!”
To my disappointment, she didn’t.
“Wait,” she said, her smile fading. “Do you even know how to ride?”
I gave her a thoughtful look. This was something I couldn’t lie about, even if I tried. She’d see right through me, especially once I was on Shadow. “I love to ride.”
“Really?”
I shrugged. “Really.”
She eyed me up and down, radiating curiosity. “All this time you’ve known I love horses, and you’ve never suggested we go riding?”
“Did you ever suggest it?”
My question obviously took her aback. She turned her attention back to the barn. The contemplative look she had right now always made me edgy. For all I knew, she could’ve been comparing my last sentence with something I’d said ten months ago, and was on the verge of discovering a contradiction. Being in love with a smart girl definitely had its advantages, but it was also exhausting trying to stay one step ahead.
“Anything else I should know about you?” Her eyes found mine.
I looked away and laughed, hoping she couldn’t hear the underlying nerves. “No.”
“No … hidden talents?”
I flashed her a smile, trying to disarm her. “None that I know of.”
It didn’t work. She rocked toward me, nudging me with her shoulder as if she was going to say something, but she didn’t.
“Want to see them?” I pressed on, motioning to the barn.
She lit up again. “Definitely.”
When she jumped off the gate to open it, I grabbed her elbow. “I’ll bring them to you.”
Her grin fell. “Oh. Okay.”
I tucked my hands into my back pockets and left her at the gate. As soon as I crossed the clearing and stepped foot in the barn, the horses whinnied in greeting. I grabbed two halters and lead ropes, reveling in the smell of the newly polished leather that adorned the tack room walls, then collected the first horse.
April’s eyes rounded on the big chestnut mare following me out. “Oh, Scott, she’s beautiful,” she said, reaching out to her. The mare’s lips wobbled as she brushed them over April’s hand to see if there was anything edible on offer. April looked up at me, her face filled with wonder.
“Her name is Nutmeg,” I told her.
“Nutmeg,” she whispered, smoothing her hand over the mare’s muzzle the way she always used to do—as if the motion of it relaxed her just as much as it did Nutmeg. The sight of it left me mesmerized. “How many are there?”
“One more. Shadow. He’s a stallion.”
“I bet that’s what he tells all the mares,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning up.
I laughed. “No doubt.”
April ran her hand down Nutmeg’s neck. “Thank you so much for organizing this, Scott. You’ve completely spoiled me.”
“My pleasure.” A comforting warmth spread through me. I may have pulled this vacation off, after all. “Give me five minutes to saddle them, and then we can head out.”
*****
Once we were mounted, I laid down some rules. There was to be no galloping. She was to keep her helmet on at all times. No riding near any low-hanging branches, and no venturing near logs or rocks. If we stuck to the shore, she would be quite safe—
She closed her eyes and dropped her head, snoring.
I stared at her, unimpressed. “April.”
She jolted upright. “Sorry. The last thing I remember was white noise. How long was I out?”
I shook my head. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then—”
“No, no, I promise I’ll behave.”
I raised my brow.
She laughed. “I’m sorry. Please, go on.”
After asking her to repeat the rules to me—much to her amusement—I allowed April to get a feel for Nutmeg. It’d been a few years since she’d ridden, but she looked as confident as ever as we surveyed the area.
The lake’s surface was still, giving it the appearance of a neatly laid silk sheet. The air was filled with a rich combination of damp earth and pine, an intoxicating aroma that brought back memories of playing with my younger brother, John, in the woods surrounding our farm in Connecticut. They were memories of a time less complicated.
A life I’d never get back.
April moved up to ride in the water, splashing through the shallows. I let her go on ahead, content to sit back and watch her enjoy herself. But then she kicked Nutmeg into a canter, hooked her reins over the horn of her saddle, and threw her arms into the air behind her the way she used to when we were younger. I had to pinch myself to make sure we hadn’t been sucked back through time, to the place where it all began …
April had a good hundred yard head start on the road leading back home, but Shadow was faster than Nutmeg. Within minutes I’d reduced her lead to twenty yards, which was when she turned to cross the creek that ran through both our families’ properties. Nutmeg slowed to negotiate the rocks in the water, which gave me the chance to catch up.
“April, please, just slow down. You’re being reckless. If you take a fall—”
“I know how to ride, Scott Parker,” she said, kicking Nutmeg harder. Once Nutmeg’s hooves found the bank on the other side, April urged her back into a gallop.
Shadow crossed the creek with ease, and we pursued April and Nutmeg into the field of lavender. The long grass whipped at my legs as we took the path Nutmeg had cut in front of us. Shadow stumbled, almost throwing me from my saddle. When I righted myself and looked up, Nutmeg was galloping ahead, but April was nowhere to be seen.
“April!”
I pulled Shadow to a halt and jumped off. April’s hat lay at my feet. I scooped it up, my heart thumping.
“April!” I turned in all directions, finally locating her to my right. “April?”
She lay motionless, face down in the grass …
I shook my head to clear the memory, and kicked Shadow to catch up to her. “April!”
The moment I reached her side, she collected the reins, pulling Nutmeg up to a walk. “It’s okay—I used to ride like that all the time when I was a kid, and I’ve never fallen off.”
A feeling of complete loss wrapped around my chest and squeezed. She wasn’t remembering the childhood I remembered.
I dismounted Shadow and grabbed Nutmeg’s reins. After tightening the girth on April’s saddle, I stepped back and ran my hands through my hair. “It only takes one fall.”
“Seriously, Scott,” she said, landing on her feet beside me with a thud. “I’d have more chance of being killed while cro
ssing the road.”
I gripped Shadow’s reins harder to keep from losing my balance, and momentarily squeezed my eyes closed to rid the images of her broken body lying in the middle of the road in 1949.
“Jesus,” she said, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
A moment of confusion swept over me before I realized why she’d apologized. She’d always avoided talk of car accidents because of the story Henry and I had fed her about my family. It was yet another reason I hated lying to her. I didn’t want her pity, let alone for false reasons.
“Don’t be. I’m just tired,” I said.
“Did you want to go back?” she asked, placing her hand on my arm.
Her warm touch always had a way of grounding me. “No. Why don’t we walk the horses around the lake?”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
*****
We arrived back at the cabin in time to cook a decent meal. On Saturday nights back home we usually cooked dinner for April’s parents and Henry. We’d become quite a team in the kitchen, working our way around each other as we talked and laughed, but lately April had been spending so much time with Rowan she was barely home anymore. To say it was difficult to sit at those dinners and listen to her parents talk about Rowan as if he was going to be their son-in-law would be an understatement. Henry often shot me a sympathetic look, which didn’t help. I’d known coming back into her life after what’d happened almost seventy years ago would be difficult, but I’d had no idea as to the extent her soul had already pulled away from mine.
And for that, I only had myself to blame.
“How did you find out about this place? You seem to know the area well,” April said, reaching for a piece of bread. “Have you been here before?”
My neck warmed with the memory of our date in 1949; the sound of her laughter bouncing across the lake that night, and the feel of her in my arms. It was beyond difficult to look at her these days without feeling the pain of not being able to touch her.
“It wasn’t a trick question,” she said in amusement when I’d been silent too long.
“I found it on the Internet,” I said, reaching for the bottle of white wine so I didn’t have to look at her whilst spinning my web. “So I came up and had a look.”
“Oh? When?”
I shrugged. “January.”
“Well, you’ve outdone yourself. It’s just amazing, Scott.”
I breathed an inward sigh of relief. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?
“What’s it called?”
I met her eyes. “What?”
“What’s the name of this place?”
“Why?”
She smiled. “So I can text Mom and Dad the link? They’d love it up here, and they’re always looking for a new vacation spot.”
Christ Almighty.
“Why don’t you just wait until we get home? Then you can show them pictures.”
Her eyes slid over me again. I tried to ignore her, or at least give her the impression that that was the end of the conversation.
“What’s up with you?” she asked.
Here we go.
“Nothing.” I smiled for good measure.
“You’re being all secretive lately.”
“I wouldn’t call it secretive.”
I’d call it deceitful, and I hated myself for it.
Her narrowed eyes wouldn’t let me go. “So, what’s the name of this place?”
“Millinocket. Or, close enough to.” I ran my hand through my hair, avoiding the unimpressed look she was firing at me. “You know, it always—”
“What’s the name of the rental, Scott?”
I nodded and half chuckled. “You’re not going to believe me, but I honestly can’t remember.” She wasn’t buying it. Not one bit. I wiped the smile from my face. “Just … let me look it up later, okay?”
To avoid further conversation, I shoveled more pasta into my mouth than I should have. April sat still, her fork untouched, waiting for me to finish. Chewing slower didn’t deter her, either. She was a woman on a mission.
And I was doomed.
I finally swallowed. “Okay, look.” I put my fork down and bit the bullet. More lies would only sink me further. Perhaps I could still turn this around. “It’s not a big deal, so please, please don’t freak out …”
Her eyes widened in anticipation.
“But … I’m not renting this place.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I own it.”
Silence ensued; her face fell blank. Then she broke into laughter. “Yeah. Right.” When I didn’t laugh with her, her smile fell away, leaving a look of confusion. “You own this place?”
God, I wished she’d settled for the rental explanation. My stomach was in knots.
“You own all this, but you still drive Big Blue around?”
I glanced at her. “I love that truck.”
She said nothing, but stared at me with probing eyes that made me more uncomfortable by the second. Each minute felt like an hour—and I would know. Time and I had a very special love–hate relationship. Eventually she picked up her fork and began to eat, both of us sitting in silence for the next few minutes. Knowing April—and I’d had three hundred years to get to know her—silence was never a good thing, because she’d never failed to speak her mind with me. It was just one of the reasons I loved her.
I took a sip from my glass and cleared my throat. “You’re even more upset with me,” I said, trying to get the ball rolling.
She fixed her eyes on her plate.
“Please don’t do that,” I begged.
“Do what?”
“Don’t shut me out now.”
“Shut you out?” She looked up. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
I sighed and looked down at my watch. “I see the jokes about money didn’t take long to roll out.”
After a moment of studying me, her face dropped. “Oh no.” She brought her hand to her forehead. “Oh, what is wrong with me? Your parents probably left you this place, and I’ve just gone and insulted you for having money.”
The blood drained from my cheeks. Not even close.
She dropped her hand away. “But … I don’t get why you never told me.”
I sat perfectly still, afraid that one wrong move, or word, would see this conversation take a bigger nosedive. “It’s not exactly something that comes up in everyday conversation.”
April frowned. “It came up in today’s conversation, yet you chose to tell me this was some kind of vacation deal.”
I lifted my hands. “I know, and I’m—”
“So wait—are the horses really from a stable, or are they yours?”
I exhaled as I leaned back in my chair, the knots in my stomach tightening.
“Scott?” she urged, her fist clenching around her fork.
“They’re mine, but I keep them at a stable.”
Her fist loosened, her fork slipping toward the table. Jesus, the look in her eyes … I don’t think I’d ever seen that amount of disappointment leveled at me before. I reached across the table, stopping short of touching her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I just … I don’t understand why you …” She looked like she’d had the wind knocked out of her.
My heart sank.
She swallowed hard. “How often do you come up here?”
“Not often,” I replied, softly.
She nodded slowly. “What do you tell me you’re doing while you’re up here, all alone?”
And there it was—the perfect question. I’d walked straight into it. “I, uh … I tell you I’m with Stella.”
Her cheeks filled with color. “And are you? When you come here, do you bring her? Does Stella know about all this?”
I felt sick with guilt. She may not have been fantastic at winning arguments, but she knew how to trip someone up with a line of questions. “I come alone. But, yes,” I said, hating every word that fell from my mouth. �
�She knows.”
April’s eyes filled with hurt. “You’d tell someone you’ve only just started dating, but not your closest friend? The two of you kept all of this from me?”
She waited for an answer, but I had none. I was guilty as charged. I’d only told Stella because coincidentally I’d bumped into her in Millinocket a few months back. She’d been visiting a guy, Joshua, whom her parents had forbidden her to see, and had confessed that not even April knew about him. I’d given her the excuse I’d inherited some land because I honestly hadn’t cared if she thought I was made of money. But April was different.
When I’d first arrived at Henry’s, she’d judged me by my looks, the same as everyone else had when I’d enrolled in her school. According to them I was a jock and, besides Rowan, April had avoided jocks at all costs. Learning that I was a wealthy jock wouldn’t have helped my cause. The only reason she’d agreed to study with me was because I was Henry’s “grandson,” and even then she hadn’t truly respected me until I’d scored higher than her on a paper.
Yet another reason I loved her. Brains trumped looks as far as she was concerned. Why she was with Rowan, then, I didn’t know.
“I organized this vacation because I wanted you to be the first one to see this place. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I just—I didn’t want you to look upon me as the guy who has money. I wanted you to see me for me.”
“How can I see you for you, when I don’t even know who you are? Two years we’ve been friends, and you’ve never once mentioned this part of your life. Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you more than anyone.”
“Then tell me something you’ve never told anyone else,” she said, her eyes holding mine. “Tell me something about your past. If you trust me so much, prove it.”
“April … I …” I sighed, trying to think of something to say. Something to keep her here, talking to me. But there was nothing I could tell her without lying to her, and that was clearly destroying both of us more and more each day.
When my silence spoke for me, she stood from the table, her chin trembling. It tore me in two. The last time I’d seen betrayal and heartache in her eyes, she’d died in my arms.
