by Ann Hunter
She and Morning Glory rounded the turn, and downshifted into an easy canter. Alex pulled her up gradually and headed for the gap in the track rail. When she swung off, the world around her seemed to scream into slow motion. Like some timey-wimey vacuum in space. Her heart rate slowed. She was only half alive again.
“What the heck was that? Didn’t you hear anything I said?”
Brooke would’ve sounded a lot funnier if her voice was in slow-mo too, but she sounded more like an irate squirrel.
Alex sighed, chucking the reins to her. She fluttered her hand open and closed like a puppet.
Brooke clutched the reins, one hand stuck on her hip. “Are we back in the nineties? Talk to the hand, cuz the face ain’t listenin’.”
“That was a thing?”
Brooke smacked Alex in the back of her helmet.
“Pop will never let you on Pro if you can’t follow basic instructions,” she chided, stooping to check her filly’s legs and make sure she was okay.
“She’s fine,” Alex assured. “Better than fine.”
Brooke glared at her, trading Morning Glory with a groom to cool out in exchange for the next horse in line. “She better be.”
She boosted Alex into the irons of a chestnut. “Show me you can behave.”
Alex saluted her acrimoniously.
When the morning rides were done, Alex chucked her helmet into the tack room and marched down the barn aisle toward Dejado. He turned just as she stabbed a finger into his chest.
“What have you got that I don’t, anyway?”
The force of her words, or maybe how hard she jabbed him, tilted him back on his heels. He rubbed the spot on his chest where she poked, grimacing. “A license.”
Alex scowled, cursing the fact she wasn’t sixteen yet. If that was all that was standing in her way of piloting Promenade to the winners circle, she’d speed up time and change history.
There was a pause between them as Alex realized he was just standing there with that goofy smile.
“You mad about this morning?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Why would I be?”
Alex clenched her fists. She couldn’t even make him angry. Why did he like her anyway? Half the time she didn’t even like herself.
He dipped his head, trying to meet her eyes. “Would you like to come back to my place for breakfast? I make bloody good omelets.”
Alex stumbled back, catching herself on the corner of a stall. Heat rose in her cheeks. Maybe it wasn’t the nightmares that made her crazy. Maybe it was his fault. The only thing that kept her sane was the riding, but not today. Him getting in the way of her goal, of stealing Promenade away as a ride from her, had to be stopped before it went further. She pushed herself forward. “I’ve gotta see a man about a horse.”
She tracked Joe down in a small, shabby office at the end of the training barn. He was writing when she knocked on the door. A mere grunt was all she got out of him for acknowledgment. She cleared her throat.
“I want to be a jockey.”
His hand continued to scrawl across the page. “Why?”
“Because what I feel when I’m on a racehorse’s back makes me feel alive.” It was the truth, but the memory of Dejado on Promenade was what added verve to her words. It gave her the bravery to confront the old man and finally say it aloud.
Joe didn’t bother looking up at her. “Do you even know what a jockey is?”
Alex squinted at him. It seemed like a dumb question.
He set the pen down and rose slowly. “A jockey is a human being willing to break every bone in his body in one race, and get himself back on a horse for the next with a half-assed patch job. A jockey is a supernatural athlete that practically starves itself for a hit of adrenaline at forty miles an hour like some pathetic corner junkie. Pound for pound, they are the toughest riders in the world, and I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“I want— ”
Joe cut her off. “All you know is the glory you see of Hall of Famers on TV. You don’t got a clue, kid. You want the dream. I’m giving you the reality.”
Alex gulped. Was he right? He couldn’t be right, because poking around on Chuwie wasn’t enough. Hacking through the back end of North Oak on Approved wasn’t enough. If she was sick and twisted enough to want those broken bones, to taste that drugging adrenaline, just to feel alive, then Joe had no right to tell her she wasn’t ready. She refused to settle anymore.
“I want to be a jockey,” Alex restated firmly.
Joe’s mouth drew in a tight line. “I don’t care about what people want, kid. I care about what people are willing to go through to get it.”
Alex clenched her fists. “I want it. All of it. The broken bones. The fire in my belly. Because without it, I’m only half alive.”
“Yeah?” Joe shook his head. “We’ll see about that.”
“I’m good you know. I can ride just as well as anyone else here. Didn’t you see me save Brooke the other day? She coulda broken her neck. You should be thanking me and putting me on Promenade tomorrow, because— ”
He chuckled. “Why? Because she’s not in a hospital? Because you saved her life? Please. Don’t play the hero card, kid. You were doing your job.”
“But I’m good!”
Joe put his hat on, pushing past her as he walked away, mumbling, “If you were half as good as your mother was…”
Where the hell had that come from? Alex gripped the desk, feeling like someone had reached right into her ribs and ripped the very breath from her. “What do you know about my mother?”
He paused in the aisle. “They haven’t told you?”
Alex’s brow knit. They? Life at Haven had only taught her how to survive in the cruelest way possible. They were the only they she knew. Who could Joe possibly be referring to? “Who’s they?”
Joe shook his head, and spit. “Damn.”
He looked like he’d said something he shouldn’t have. One minute they’d been arguing over her riding for him, and the next… it was the weirdest turn the conversation had taken. And what did her mother have to do with any of it?
Alex caught his arm. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s not what I’m not telling you, kid.” He hiked a thumb in the direction of North’s office. “It’s what they’re not telling you. Ask him yourself.”
Joe shuffled off, shaking his head again. “I’d have expected Hillary to at least have the decency…”
Alex was left staring, into void she was sure, not sure if she could breathe again. They. They were Hillary and North? Had they been lying to her this entire time? Did they know more than they let on? No, no, no, no. You don’t just blindside a person like that. She somehow found her voice.“Who else knows?”
“Who doesn’t?” he muttered back.
GRAVE REALIZATION
What secrets was North keeping? Alex knew he knew her mother, but to what extent? What else did he know that he wasn’t telling her? Joe made it sound like there was a giant hole in the picture.
How could the whole farm know her mother, and Alex didn’t?
And Hillary? Alex couldn’t wrap her head around Hillary knowing more and not telling her. How many people would break Alex’s trust before she’d break too? The whole thing stewed inside her as she pounded up the steps to the Showman’s front door, slamming it behind her.
Hillary was elbow deep in soapy dishwater. Alex hadn’t expected her to be there this time of day. She wished there were a cupboard under the stairs she could crawl under, like Hairy Potthead. Man, he had it easy.
Alex tried skulking toward the den. Maybe she could blow off some steam while watching TVG. She could sort through this, decide who to approach first. She instantly halted and cringed when Hillary spoke.
“Come help me dry these dishes.”
Alex bit her lip, grinding her fingers into fists. There went that plan. She huffed and grabbed a dishtowel. Hillary passed her a clean plate, and Alex started wiping it down.
She glanced to Hillary, resenting the content smile on her face, the way afternoon sunlight struck her eyes. How could she be so happy keeping secrets from everyone?
Alex set the plate down in the drying rack and took the next one. Hillary hummed an old song softly, and Alex ground her teeth. How much did Hillary know about Alex’s mother? What wasn’t she telling her? She tossed the plate on top of the other.
Hillary looked at her with a tsk. “Easy.”
Alex glared at her and yanked the next plate from her soapy hands. She threw it into the wash rack, not caring if it broke.
“You’re going to chip them,” Hillary said.
“I’m going to do a lot more to the next one if you keep pretending everything’s fine.”
Hillary took the dishtowel from her and wiped her hands. Her brow creased together. “What’s wrong? I thought we were getting to a good place.”
“So did I.”
“What happened?”
“You tell me, Hills. Or maybe it’s what you haven’t been telling me. Maybe it’s what the whole damn farm hasn’t told me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Joe said you and North have been keeping secrets. Families shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”
“What?”
“Tell me about my mom.”
Alex watched the words form and falter in Hillary’s throat. Even now the woman couldn’t at least say some dumb adult thing to at least put Alex’s fear to rest. To tell her she hadn’t been fed bald-face lies for almost two fricking years? Alex clenched her fists. “You know what? Forget it about it.”
Hillary chased after her. “You’re not getting out of this talk that easily.” She caught Alex’s elbow and turned her around on the stairs.
Alex hoped she saw the rage flash in her eyes as she yanked away from her. Hillary didn’t back down.
“You’re right. You deserve answers.” She drummed her fingers on the banister. “And you know what? It’s high time you get them.”
She backed down the steps, pausing at the door to look at Alex.
“You coming?”
Alex stood outside Mr. North’s office listening to the conversation inside.
“She knows,” Hillary said.
He was silent, as though someone had died. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “How did we let this slip? How did it get out?”
“You should have told her from the start. I warned you over and over. The day we took guardianship of her, I told you upfront that I hoped this would come back around and bite you in the ass. And it has.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“We? There’s no we anymore, Steven. I am done not being a mother to her. It’s high time someone step up and parent her, instead of patronizing her. It isn’t for me to keep a secret anymore. I’m telling her.”
Alex heard his seat roll back. He must have stood. She could picture him bracing against his massive desk, as though it gave him some sort of power over people. “Don’t you dare.”
“Despite all these years I’ve given to you and this farm, you don’t own me.”
Alex grinned. Hillary taking a stand against him, at last. She’d always thought of Hills as North’s lackey, and sometimes babysitter, but she wouldn’t be able to get away with that after today.
Alex leaned in closer. She had to see the look on North’s face. Even if it was a peek through the door crack. Little veins swelled in his temple and neck. His face was as red as the farm’s racing silks.
“If you leave this office, I’ll… I’ll—”
“Always be my favorite manchild.”
Hillary swung around the edge of the door and grabbed Alex’s hand. There was something electrical about it that ran all the way up Alex’s arm. She didn’t know where they were going, but they were going to get there fast.
They stood before a grave with an arc of roses around the base.
Hillary swallowed, arms folded. “I come here sometimes.”
Her eyes shifted to Alex, and she nodded toward the gravestone. “I tell her about you.”
Alex wanted to ask why, until Hillary looked back at the gravestone.
Angelina Anderson.
Beloved sister, mother, and champion.
“She’s your mother,” Hillary said quietly.
Alex’s brow knit. It was funny that the woman buried here had the same name as North’s sis— Alex nearly jumped out of her skin. She covered her mouth, hand shaking, eyes wide. The light went bright white around the edge of her vision. Everything else was a swirl of choking breath and pain in her chest.
Hillary took her by the shoulders and pulled her close. She rested her hand on the back of Alex’s head gently, and let her fall apart in her arms.
Alex trembled, biting her lower lip hard. She wasn’t sure if she was angry or glad Hills remained silent. No “I know.” Because she didn’t. Or “It’s okay.” Because it really wasn’t.
“I tell her how stubborn you are,” Hillary finally said. “How frustrated you make me. The crazy, reckless things you do. And how damn proud she’d be of you.” She laughed after a moment of silence. “I’m sorry that last part rhymed.”
Alex pushed away from her. “You… kept this from me.” She ran her hand through her hair shakily. Was this a sick conspiracy? All those years in Haven — in Hell— and Alex had practically been in North Oak’s back yard the entire time. How could they not know she was out there when her mother was here? “How could you keep this from me for two years?”
“I can’t say how many times I wanted to tell you. North didn’t want you to know.”
“Does that mean— Is he really?”
“Your uncle.”
Alex bit her knuckle and paced. Abandoned at birth, taken in only to wander the streets and rob from shops, to be beaten and serve the higher needs of Haven growing up, only to end up at North Oak of all places in this wayward Cinderella story. What could North possibly gain from not telling her that she’d found her family?
“Why didn’t he want me to know?”
“Honestly, I’d tell you if I knew. Steven has a lot riding on this place. I’m sure he has his reasons. Even if they’re not always the right ones.”
Hillary sighed.
“You wanted me to tell you about your mother. Well here she is.” Hillary ran her hand over the curve of the stone. “She loved bologna sandwiches.” She glanced to Alex, like the information may surprise her. But Alex had always loved a good sandwich. “Given the choice between a fancy four course meal and bologna, the sandwich always won. Her favorite songs were the jingles to old commercials, and she used to sneak goldfish crackers to the horses. You could tell she’d been around because their teeth were all stained rainbow.” She laughed softly. “It drove Joe hopping mad, but I think he had a soft place for her anyway.”
Rainbow crackers, noted. Maybe Alex could use the same fear tactics as the old man. Bout time this place had a decent haunting. He and North brought it on themselves, she decided. Was she that petty though? To convince them she may be Angelina incarnate just to get her chance to really ride.
Hillary tipped her head back, smiling. “And oh, could she ride! I’ve never seen anyone get low on a horse like she could — one wily ball of boots and silks. I’m not sure how she saw the other horses on the track with her face tucked into a mane like that.” She gazed at Alex. “You know sometimes when you hear or see something so beautiful that the only thing you can reason its existence was that it was the voice of God? That was Angie. God’s gift to racing. She was the best of all of us; kind, forgiving, and such a sense of humor… And I’ll never keep her from you again.”
Normally Alex would’ve been the first to walk away, but Hillary was gone before she had a chance to. She was left standing before a stone, not sure whether to say goodbye or hello.
MY TWO MOMS
Alex ran her finger along the edge of the silver frame Hillary had given her.
Carol scooted close on the edge of Alex’s bed. “That’s her, huh?”
Alex nodded. It was weird to see Hillary fifteen years younger, sans crowfeet— sans anything old looking— with teenaged Angelina, pressed cheek to cheek in friendship. Was Laura even alive at that point?
“She’s pretty. You have her eyes.”
Alex dared to touch her mother’s cheek for the first time. All those times she’d gazed at the photos of her in North’s office and not known. How could she not have known? Alex let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “So I’ve heard.”
She’d always wondered what she looked like. What she sounded like. Why she’d given Alex up. She’d come from wealth. It wasn’t like Angelina couldn’t take care of her. How different would Alex’s life had been if she’d grown up amongst the Norths?
“You’re lucky,” Carol said.
“Why is that?”
“You have two moms.”
Alex looked at her.
Carol smiled. “And it sounds like they’re both pretty spectacular.” She bumped her shoulder against Alex’s. “You’ve got some serious boots to fill.”
“Oh, good. For a minute there I thought you were going to say that I was spectacular too. What a relief.”
“Sarcasm much?”
Alex shrugged. “Self deprecation.”
“Look at who’s using big words.” Carol grinned. She wiped away an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye, sniffling, “I’m so proud.”
Alex bumped her back. “Shut up.”
“So what about your dad?”
Wait. Her dad? “What about him?”
“Is he alive?”
She hadn’t really stopped to think about him. With how much she’d been thinking about Angelina, and trying to come to terms with her finding her real family, he hadn’t crossed her mind yet. It took two to tango, so she knew she had a father. She didn’t just randomly poof into existence. But his stone had been absent from the graveyard. “I don’t know.”
“How did she die?” Carol turned her attention back to the picture.
Alex swallowed. That panicky feeling she hated started to rise in her chest. “I don’t know.”
