Bittersweet Farm 2: Joyful Spirit

by Barbara Morgenroth

  Lockie turned to me. “Why is Jules starting to cry? What did I say?”

  “Jules is very fond of you.”

  “Does that have another meaning?”

  “No.” Starting on my salad, then I stopped. “I think she was touched by your offer.”

  “Why aren’t you crying?”

  “I don’t have any tears left after our disagreement.”

  Lockie moved his plate away. “I told you I wasn’t here to make you miserable and by being here I’ve done it just that.”

  “It’s so much more complicated than that.” I reached for his plate and put it back in front of him. “Eat, please.”

  Lockie didn’t pick up his fork.

  “All I ever wanted to do was ride,” Lockie paused, then began again. “When I was young, there was a riding academy near my home. After school, I would ride my bicycle to the stable. From the road, I would watch the riders. We didn’t have money for lessons, and even if we did, my father would have thought it was a waste.

  “One day while I was watching, the owner stopped his pickup truck next to me. He said he had seen me as I stared at these children my age, these fortunate children who had no idea how lucky they were to have the lessons and the boots and the special pants. I didn’t know what they were called until I read about them in a book in the school library. Jodhpurs. From India. It was such an exotic word and so removed from my circumstances.

  “He asked what I was doing. I didn’t know how to answer. It was as if I was seeing performances by characters from a storybook, alien and unreal. There was such unimaginable beauty in becoming one with a horse and it was so unattainable for me.”

  I was wrong. There were tears left.

  “Don’t cry, Tali,” Lockie said. “There’s a happy ending. He told me I could come into the barnyard and watch from there. I went every day and couldn’t take my eyes off the horses and riders. He began letting me help, and, in a few weeks, persuaded my father to allow me work there. I was about eight and wasn’t much of a stablehand but I tried. On the day Ed put me on a pony, I felt my life made sense for the first time.

  “After the accident, my life wasn’t right for a long while. Then I came here.”

  “To the farm I couldn’t wait to leave.” I shook my head at the irony of our lives converging here.

  “Your father is a very generous man.”

  “My father is someone I don’t even know,” I replied.

  “We’ll get Tracy to ride with Rogers on the hunter pace and I’ll try not to give either of you cause to be concerned for me again.”

  Tracy was a local young woman who had worked with us for about two years and she was very reliable but I thought for her first time out of Karneval, Rogers would want me instead of someone she barely knew.

  “I’ll ride with Rogers.”

  “You’ve been blessed in your life. I know you don’t feel that, but there are so few things asked of you, don’t do something you don’t want to do when it makes no difference.”

  “You were right to call me a spoiled brat.”

  “That day? We were just pretending for Greer’s benefit.”

  “You’re describing someone who is both incredibly spoiled and incredibly ungrateful. I feel like Greer. In my worst nightmare, I don’t want to be like her.”

  “You’re not.”

  I wasn’t sure of that.

  ***

  Late that night I was reading the second book of the evening in bed when my phone rang.

  It was Lockie.

  “Go to sleep, Talia.”

  ***

  The next morning I tapped on my father’s library door.

  “Come in.”

  I entered carefully since there was a mug of coffee in my hand. Crossing the room, I placed it on a pad on his desk and he looked at me, caught off-guard.

  “Good morning, Tali. What’s up?”

  “I was awake for a long time last night and I’d like to discuss a couple things with you.”

  He closed the lid to his laptop. “Okay.”

  “I want to stay home.”

  “You are home.”

  “I want to stay home full time and I would like it if you would be here more often.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t want to go to college.”

  “I don’t blame you but you haven’t graduated from high school yet.”

  “I don’t want to do that either.”

  “That’s not negotiable.”

  “I’ll take a GED and be done with it.”

  “Why?”

  I paused.

  “Is it about Lockie? You spoke to the doctor. He’s in good health and everything is being managed. You don’t need to become his guardian the way you did for your mother. You don’t have to take that on. You didn’t need to take it on the last time.”

  “I know that but my mother’s passing made a big impression on me.”

  “The wrong one,” he replied.

  “No, it’s the right one. I want to be with the people I care about.”

  He looked at me in surprise. “And that’s why you want me to stay home more often?”

  “Yes.”

  “School is in town. It’s six hours a day. Maybe your schedule can be shortened by taking only the classes you need to graduate.”

  I shook my head.

  My father nodded. “You know what your grandfather says.”

  “Always sleep on it before making an important decision.”

  “Let’s give it some time. We’ll both think about it.”

  ***

  Pushing two wheelbarrows, we walked through the field up the hill to drive stakes in the ground where Lockie wanted jumps built by the crew who did construction at the farm. I knew he had spent hours designing the course, drawing the jumps and giving specifics regarding size. It had been explained to me that the course was customizable in that it could be made more difficult later, but this first version was entry level. There were no water jumps, and no obstacles that would intimidate horse or rider.

  I thought the jump that looked like a futon was insane but wasn’t going to say anything about it.

  “You told me a story about having a fall over a fence some years ago as the reason why you aren’t keen on jumping,” Lockie said as we continued up the hill.

  “It’s a true story, completely autobiographical.”

  “Why don’t you want to show?”

  “Why do you want to?”

  “I enjoy competition. It’s a gauge to determine how the training is progressing,” Lockie explained.

  “Why can’t you just ride for the fun of it?”

  “This is a business. My job is to turn out capable horses and capable riders, not Sunday hacks and hobbyists.”

  “Horses don’t want to do this. They have nothing to gain. They would prefer to be in a field eating all day.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, I’m serious,” I said.

  “Do you think you could force CB to jump anything he didn’t want to?”

  “Maybe I couldn’t but you could.”

  Lockie laughed. “No, I couldn’t. I’ve ridden horses that couldn’t be forced into anything. Have you ever seen a horse that wouldn’t get in a trailer? They tell you in a hundred ways when they don’t want to do the work whether it’s balking at jumps or smaller rebellions like kicking you or biting at you. They can simply refuse to move.”

  “Then leave them alone,” I said.

  “It’s self-selecting. The horses who don’t want to work, wind up not working and we don’t have to be more descriptive than that.

  “Most horses want to do something. Bored horses pace in their stalls or chew on the pasture fence. You said yourself that CB has a swish he does when he seems pleased with himself.”

  “That’s true.”

  “If he can be pleased with himself, he must enjoy the work. So if it’s not about CB, it must be about you.”

  We stopped
at the next location where Lockie had requested telephone poles be stacked in a pyramid shape. The height could be increased with a couple rails placed above the base.

  “Is this what you meant when you said you should have become a psychiatrist?”

  “Tali, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Maybe I’d like to know what’s going on with you.”

  “It’s not coming from dark psychological depths,” I replied stepping on one of the fiberglass posts and driving it into the ground. “I don’t want to be judged.”

  “It’s not personal.”

  “For you it’s not. For me, I grew up feeling as though my mother and I were somehow not good enough for my father to be with us fulltime.”

  Lockie looked at me in surprise.

  “It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s the logic of a child.”

  “You’re not a child anymore.”

  “Some of these emotional injuries are not so easily overcome.”

  “I hope I’ve never said or done anything to make you feel...”

  “No, you haven’t. Don’t give it another thought.”

  It was hitting too close to home already.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning when I came down for breakfast, I was surprised to find my father there waiting for me.

  “Hi.”

  “I have an answer for you,” he said. “It was, surprisingly, both difficult and simple since I want you to have whatever you want but I also feel obligated to do what your mother would wish me to do for you.”

  I sat.

  “You can stay home.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Maybe so. You’ll work harder than you can dream possible. You’ll have a tutor and you’ll learn everything your mother would want you to know, then you’ll begin doing work for the foundation. And Jules will also teach you how to cook.”

  He looked at me expectantly.

  “And you will be where?”

  “I will be here making sure this happens.”

  “Can I choose my own hours?”

  “As long as you get the work done, yes.”

  “Then it sounds perfect.”

  “What’s perfect,” Greer asked coming into the room.

  “I’m not going back to The Briar School.”

  Reaching over my shoulder, Greer grabbed a croissant from the basket on the table. “Good. Where are you going?”

  “I’m staying home.”

  “Drop-out,” Greer said with a smile as she sat down next to Jules.

  “No, I’m going to have a tutor.”

  Greer poured herself a cup of coffee. “So it’s too hard to maintain the illusion of being socially viable. I don’t blame you. If my boyfriend was gay, I’d stay home, too.” She sipped the coffee. “What is this swill?”

  “Jamaican Blue Mountain,” Jules replied.

  “Ugh.”

  Greer spread some preserves on her croissant then choked. “What’s this?”

  “White peach and lemon verbena.”

  “Why can’t we have normal food?” Greer demanded and pushed back from the table.

  “I’ll make you normal food from now on if you give me twelve hours’ notice that you’ll be present,” Jules replied.

  “Dad,” my sister snapped. “Is this how you let the help speak to us?”

  “Shut up, Greer,” I said.

  My father reached for another croissant. “You’re the only one complaining, Greer, if you would take the time to notice.”

  “Maybe I’m the only one with high standards.”

  We all looked at her.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you go warm up Counterpoint? I’ll be at the barn in a few minutes,” Lockie said to her.

  “I was planning to go shopping this morning.”

  “I only have an hour free today,” Lockie replied.

  Ignoring him, Greer turned to our father. “Am I supposed to be at his beck and call?”

  “There’s a crew coming to begin working on the outside course. Lockie will be engaged with that,” my father replied finishing his coffee.

  “If you want to go to the schooling show in two weeks, you better ride your horse.”

  “Schooling show? Like I’m a beginner?”

  I wanted to throw something at her but the only thing I had was a napkin.

  She was getting worse. I hadn’t bothered to confront her over the pretending to be in Lockie’s bed incident. It didn’t feel important enough to argue about since it had no basis in reality.

  “You and Counterpoint are a novice team,” Lockie said. “But if you don’t want to go to Florida, that’s fine with me.”

  “Would you like some more coffee?” Jules asked him.

  “I’d better not,” he said.

  We weren’t sure that coffee wasn’t partially the cause of his headaches and had decided to limit him to one cup a day. So far so good.

  Greer shrieked at us and stomped into the house.

  Jules began clearing the table as my father stood to leave.

  “I’ll call the school and tell them you won’t be attending this year,” he said.

  “Thank you, Dad.”

  Lockie finished his eggs and placed his fork on the plate. “So what’s going on?”

  “I want to stay home.”

  “Why?”

  He waited while I tried to find the right words.

  “You know how you said getting on the pony that first time made you know where you belonged?”

  Lockie nodded.

  “I know where I belong now.”

  He stood. “Then let’s get the day going.”

  ***

  I was still setting up fences in the indoor when Greer arrived on Counterpoint.

  “Where’s Lockie?”

  “He’s on the phone. Someone is interested in buying Sans.”

  Greer shrugged at the thought her former equitation horse would be moving to a new home. “He’s a good horse for someone with no aspirations.”

  My half-sister was delusional most of the time. She was like the people who lined up for the American Idol auditions and hadn’t prepared for the performance. As a policy, Greer thought that the work leading up to the event was, if not beneath her, at least uninteresting.

  I put the last pole up on the jump standard. “Why are you putting us through this?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You ride Counterpoint half as often as you should. You said you wanted to make it to the National Horse Show then didn’t practice...”

  “Nicole Boisvert!” Greer shouted.

  As if that explained everything.

  “Yes, Nicole is the top junior ride in the country but that doesn’t mean...” I started.

  “She is unbeatable.”

  “Okay, you couldn’t beat her. Now what’s your excuse? You can’t blame Counterpoint because he’s fantastic. When I see Derry ride him ... ”

  “You think he’s so much better than I am?”

  “Greer. Derry is a better rider than you are.”

  We had hired Derry to exercise Counterpoint because Greer couldn’t be counted upon to maintain a schedule. He was very capable and far more reliable about showing up than she was.

  Sometimes people needed to be told the truth. It was a disservice to mislead them and Greer had been pampered for too long.

  “Why do you have to be so hateful?” Greer asked softly.

  I was shocked. She’d never used that tone of voice in my presence before.

  “I don’t hate you and I’m not trying to hurt you. On the contrary, I’m trying to help you.”

  “How is that a help?”

  “You should deal with reality.”

  “That everyone is a better rider than I am?”

  “That’s not true. You have all the potential in the world but you don’t apply yourself,” I replied.

  “That’s the kind of bull your mother shoveled at you.”

  “Excus
e me?”

  “If you work hard you’ll succeed. If you’re good, good things will happen to you. It doesn’t always work.”

  I sighed. “Nothing always works. In real life, most things don’t work. Most of the time you fail. Sometimes you fail when you should succeed.”

  “Then why try?” Greer asked.

  “When did you ever fail?”

  “It’s none of your damn business.”

  The old Greer was back.

  “Okay. You have a great horse and a great trainer. It’s up to you to write your future.”

  “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,” Greer said as she rode to the far end of the arena.

  Lockie entered by the side door and walked over to me.

  “I’m sorry. I made things worse with her.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. She’s Lady Weathervane independent of you.”

  I nodded.

  “Come on, people, this isn’t the only thing I have to do today,” Greer called.

  “I don’t know why she says things like that. It is the only thing she has to do today,” I said.

  “Because she doesn’t like to be judged and found lacking either,” Lockie replied.

  I paused. “I’d like to spend some time with you.”

  “Do you want to go for a hack after dinner?”

  I smiled. “Is that like a date?”

  “Yes, like a date.”

  ***

  We rode up into the hills, didn’t talk much and it was the perfect way to end the day. As we rode back into the stable yard it was getting dark and a car came down the driveway with its lights on. It stopped and the door opened.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, Josh,” I said throwing a leg over CB’s neck and sliding to the ground.

  “I thought I could talk to you for a while.”

  “Sure.”

  “Hi, Lockie. I’m sorry if I seemed rude. I wasn’t ignoring you,” Josh said.

  “No, Josh, I’m sure you were just excited to see her. A lot of people feel that way about Talia but so often not in a good way.”

  “Lockie!”

  He held out his hand and motioned to the reins I was holding.

  “I’ll take care of CB, you have a visit with Josh.”

  “But ...”

  “I’ll come up to the house when I’m done.”

  I paused.

  “Go,” Lockie said.

  “Maybe I should have called first, it seems like you two were ...”