by DW Davis
We slept late Christmas morning. I woke first and was just getting the wood stove started when Maeve, hands wrapped around a cup of tea, settled onto the couch. She smiled when she saw the little Breyer horse under the tree. It looked just like Raven.
“Michael, where did you find it? I love it.” She was beaming like a kid.
“I just asked Santa to bring it to you, and there it is,” I told her. “You know Santa always comes through.”
The toy horse was fully tacked up, and it took her a moment to notice.
“Michael, this saddle is genuine leather,” Maeve said as she held it close to her face and took a sniff. She eyed me suspiciously.
With as innocent a smile as I could manage, I told her, “And the fittings are real silver, and the stones are real turquoise.”
Her smile faded just a bit as she scolded me. “Michael, I told you not to be extravagant this year.”
A guilty smile replaced my innocent one. “Then you’d probably better not read the note wrapped up in the bedroll.”
At the back of the saddle was a bedroll, a real wool blanket, with a note rolled up in it. Maeve pulled the note carefully from the roll and read it.
Whatever you do, don't go to the tack room.
Her lips twisted into a puzzled frown. “What does that mean? What's in the tack room?”
I sighed a dramatic sigh. “If you don't want to get mad at me, you probably shouldn't go out there.” Then I started to chuckle.
Maeve gave a frustrated laugh. “Come on, Michael, let's get dressed and go out to the tack room.”
“Not yet,” I said with a mischievous grin. “That was your stocking present. You don't get your other presents until after breakfast.”
Having gotten a good fire going in the wood stove, I pulled myself off the floor and headed into the kitchen. I had just gotten my coffee poured when Maeve walked in with an expectant look on her face.
“You are kidding, right? You're not really going to make me wait until after breakfast, are you? I mean, I need to go out and feed Raven anyway.”
We’d brought Raven to River Dream the very day we'd gotten home for the break.
Sipping slowly at my coffee, giving the impression I was considering telling her she'd have to wait, I said nothing for a minute. After making a show out of savoring the java, I finally gave in.
“I suppose you are right, you do have to feed Raven anyway, so I guess we can go see what Santa left you in the tack room.”
With a look of triumph on her face, Maeve set her mug down on the counter and hurried to the bedroom to change. I followed with a silly smile on my face. I was having way too much fun. A few short minutes later we were dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, heading to our little stable.
I made a big show out of opening the tack room door. As I clicked on the light, Maeve's eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped. There on the saddle rack sat a full-sized, custom-made saddle like the one on the toy horse under the tree.
Hand carved into the leather were a series of orchids like the ones in Maeve’s wedding bouquet. The padded, inlaid seat, in the shape of a heart, was the same heather blue as her eyes. Her name was stamped into the back of the cantle in gothic script. The saddle string conchos were silver, accented with turquoise, and hand engraved with images of sailboats.
Maeve looked at it, looked at me, and looked back at it. In a quiet voice she said, “Oh, Michael, it's beautiful.”
She walked over to it and lovingly stroked the leather. It took her a moment to notice the matching saddle pad under it and the bridle hanging on the peg behind it.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, blinking away the tears forming in her eyes. She walked over to me and put her arms around me. “I love it. It's exactly the one I wanted. How did you know?”
When we bought Raven the summer before, a set of tack had come with her. The saddle wasn't exactly what Maeve wanted, but she insisted it would do until she decided what she did want. Rita helped me figure out what to get her.
Without letting her know why, Rita got Maeve talking about saddles until she had a pretty good idea of what Maeve wanted. Then Rita helped me find someone who could custom make exactly the saddle that would be best for Maeve and Raven. Judging from Maeve's reaction, we’d done well.
“Rita helped a little. Well, maybe more than a little. Okay, Rita helped a lot,” I admitted. “I'm glad you like it.”
Maeve smiled the sweetest smile at me. “Let's get Raven fed. Then we can get fed and I can come try it out.”
Watching Maeve eat her breakfast, I could tell it was all she could do not to wolf down her omelet.
“We can do the dishes later,” she said, popping the last corner of her toast in her mouth.
I shook my head and laughed.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I put our dirty dishes in the sink before hurrying out the back door after Maeve.
Maeve turned Raven out into the paddock before going into the tack room for a closer inspection of her new gear. She went over each piece with great care, ensuring that she knew just how it all fit together.
“All right,” Maeve said, turning to me with a smile that crinkled the corners of her sparkling blue eyes. “It’s time to saddle up and see how Raven likes her new tack.”
Maeve alternately walked and trotted Raven around the paddock, stopping now and then to tighten a strap or adjust the reins.
“You look great up there,” I called out to her. “That saddle looks great against Raven’s coat.”
Maeve’s only answer was a widening of the smile that hadn’t left her face all morning.
She made a couple more circuits around the paddock and then stopped by the gate.
“Open the gate, Michael. I want to give Raven a chance to run.”
Once clear of the gate, Maeve put her head down near Raven’s neck and gave the powerful little horse just the slightest nudge with her heels. Raven didn’t need much encouragement. I stood there in awe as horse and rider galloped down the length of the field, slowing only to turn at the far end, before galloping back.
Maeve’s strawberry blond hair flew out behind her like a comet’s tail of auburn gold, a striking contrast to Raven’s ebony main. Horse and rider melded into one in an exuberance of Christmas morning delight, running through the cold winter air as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
Later, after she and Raven had cooled off from their run and Maeve was brushing Raven down, Maeve said, “It's almost as if that saddle were made just for me.”
Her eyebrows rose and her lips formed a perfect O. Slowly, she stopped brushing Raven and turned to me. “Michael, that’s not an off-the-rack saddle, is it?”
“Uh, well, no, it’s not.”
“I should have known,” Maeve said with a shake of her head. “You really are something.”
After a cold, clear Christmas morning, the rest of that winter break turned out to be warm and somewhat wet. Maeve did get to do a good bit of riding, and we even got in a couple of decent days of sailing. When it was too rainy for either, we enjoyed each other's company in front of the television watching videos on the Curtis-Mathis video player Maeve had given me for Christmas. Fortunately, Bellangia’s carried a decent selection of movies on tape for vacationers to rent when they were stuck for something to do on rainy days.
New Year's Eve morning we moved Raven back to her stall at R&R, made sure the boats were secure, and headed back to Wilmington. We would spend New Year's Eve at Primavera's and the first day of 1985 at home. Maeve's first workday would be the day after New Year’s Day. Classes didn't start up again for me until two weeks later.
Mr. DeLuca made good on his promise to make New Year’s Eve one that the teachers he’d invited would never forget. He arranged the private event room as a buffet and open bar for them for the night. Everything on his menu was available to be sampled on the buffet table. His finest wines and beverages were poured all through the night. The band he’d hired to play was more of a small orchestr
a. When midnight arrived, Maeve and I were dancing in the main dining room, which had been transformed into a ballroom, complete with wooden dance floor.
When Mr. DeLuca’s countdown reached midnight, I pulled Maeve close, whispered, “Happy New Year, Babe,” and pressed my lips against hers in a kiss that I hoped expressed to her how much I loved her and how much I was looking forward to spending that New Year and every New Year after it with her.
After a wonderful night at Primavera's, Maeve and I rose late and were just sitting down to breakfast when the phone started ringing.
“I wonder who that could be,” Maeve snapped.
Thinking to myself that she might be feeling the aftereffects of a bit too much champagne, I rose to answer the jangling instrument.
“Why don't you let the machine get it?” she said, referring to our answering machine.
I shrugged and sat back down. When the caller started leaving a message, I got back up quickly.
“Guten Morgen, Hans,” I said in German as I picked up the handset.
“Good morning to you,” Hans replied with a little laugh. “Your accent is terrible.”
“It's a south German accent,” I joked.
“No part of Germany is that far south,” Hans pointed out. “How are you this fine New Year's Day?”
I mouthed to Maeve that it was Hans on the phone. She gave me a look that clearly indicated she'd figured that out.
“We’re good, Hans. Happy New Year's to you. Did you have a nice Christmas?”
“I did,” Hans replied enthusiastically. “And an even better New Year's Eve.”
Intrigued, I asked, “Why would that be, I wonder?”
“I asked April to marry me last night, and she said yes.”
“You're kidding,” I exclaimed. “That's wonderful news. I didn't know you two were that serious.”
I looked at Maeve, and she raised her eyebrows in question. I signaled her to wait with an upraised palm.
I could almost hear Hans' smile in his voice. “Oh yes, we’ve been getting more serious, and last night I popped the question.”
Hans was living in Raleigh. April lived in Garner. They’d dated on and off since junior high. Hans brought her to our wedding, and they’d been more on than off since. I wasn't really surprised to hear the news.
“I know it's kind of soon, but have you set a date or anything?”
Hans laughed a tired laugh. “Not yet, no, we haven’t talked about that yet. You’re only the second person I’ve told, after my parents. I was going to call you first, but April insisted our parents should be the first to know.”
“I'm honored to be in the top two,” I told him sincerely. “We'll have to get together and celebrate soon.”
I was thinking Maeve and I could throw a party for them here in town. As much as Hans loved the beach and seafood, King Neptune's would be perfect.
“We’d like to come down and visit,” Hans said, “maybe next weekend. Will you be around?”
“Just a minute,” I said as I covered the mouthpiece. Turning to Maeve I told her, “Hans and April got engaged last night and want to come visit next weekend. Will we be around?”
“Yes,” Maeve said emphatically, “for Hans, of course we'll be around.”
I smiled and told Hans, “We'll be around, old buddy. Just let us know what time you'll be getting here.”
“I’ll call later in the week and let you know,” Hans said. “I have some more calls to make, Michael. I’ll talk to you later.”
Smiling and nodding, though I knew he couldn't see it, I replied, “Okay, Hans. Congratulations again, and congratulations to April, too.”
Once I hung up, Maeve was all questions. I filled her in as best I could based on what Hans had told me.
“I would like to take them out to celebrate. Maybe invite their folks and mine, see if we can look up some of our friends who might still be around town.”
“That is a great idea, Michael,” Maeve said, sounding puzzled that I’d thought of it.
I turned my lips down in an exaggerated pout. “I do have them once in a while, you know.”
Maeve shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Once in a while, yes, you do.”
That weekend we succeeded in surprising Hans and April with a party at the King Neptune. Hans thought it would be a quiet dinner with just the two couples. Instead it was a well attended event including all our parents and several of our closest friends.
“Michael, I should be mad at you,” Hans said as he recovered from the shouts of SURPRISE. “But how can I be? Thank you, my friend.”
I patted him on the back. “It's the least I could do for my oldest friend.”
Hans' face took on a momentarily pained expression. He looked around the room. I knew what he was thinking. Rhiannon wasn't there. Neither of us said anything. We'd known each other long enough and well enough that we didn't have to.
April reacted with delight. “Oh, you guys, this is great. We weren't expecting this.”
She and Hans moved into the room to greet everyone and be congratulated over and over again. The wait staff brought out drinks, and we toasted to love and success for the newly engaged couple.
We didn't see much of Hans and April for several weeks. They did come and spend one weekend at River Dream, and we did go up and spend a weekend in Raleigh. Along about the third week of February, they called and asked, or should I say insisted, that we be in town over the weekend.
Hans told me, “April was planning a special lunch for some of her girl friends. She wants to talk to them about the wedding.”
While April and the girls were having their lunch Hans and I were out on Lumina Pier pretending to fish. It was an uncharacteristically warm day for late February - nearly sixty degrees - and not much wind. There wasn’t much biting either, leaving us plenty of time to talk.
“We’ve picked a date,” Hans said. “We’ve decided on the third Saturday in May. April was hoping for a June wedding, but the church was already booked.”
I set my pole against the rail and picked up my coffee cup. “A May wedding will be nice. Maybe it won’t be as hot as it probably would be in June. Is the church here in Wilmington?”
Hans shook his head. “No. We’ve been going to a church up in Garner. April really likes the pastor there. She’s asked him to perform the ceremony.”
“Then I’m guessing the reception will be somewhere up there, too.”
“There’s a hotel a little ways up Highway 70 from the church that has a nice reception hall. Their menu is a bit limited, but it does include the basics-beef, chicken, or seafood.”
My coffee cup was empty so I walked over to the trash can and threw it away. Turning back towards the rail, I took a moment to admire the view of Wrightsville Beach stretching out to the north. The calm waves of the ebbing tide rolled carelessly ashore, gently tossing bits of sea shell against the sand in a timeless rhythm that would one day see those shells ground into sand themselves. The air was a clear Carolina blue with hardly a cloud in the sky. I felt a sudden longing to be on a sailboat.
Sitting back down on the bench, I said to Hans, “That menu should cover just about everybody.”
Hans shrugged. “I suppose so. The manager we talked to said they could also do vegetarian meals if we needed them. I think April has a cousin who’s a vegetarian.”
We watched our lines for a while. Hans got a bite. When he reeled it in his big catch turned out to be a pin fish that would fit in the palm of his hand.
“Should I keep him for cut bait?”
“Nah,” I said. “Throw him back and let him grow some. We’ve got plenty of shrimp.”
Holding the little fish carefully to avoid the sharp spines on its dorsal fin, Hans removed the hook and dropped the squirming little thing over the side of the pier.
“Well, that was fun,” Hans said. He looked sideways at me. “At least I haven’t been skunked.”
“Day’s not over yet,” I reminded him. “But right now I
think it’s time for lunch. How do a couple of hot dogs sound?”
“Sounds good to me,” Hans said, hooking his line onto one of the rods eyes and tightening his reel. “Reel in your line and let’s go.”
The snack bar at the pier wasn’t too busy. We got our hot dogs, fries, and sweat tea before taking seats by a window with a view looking south toward the jetty.
Seeing the wetsuit clad surfers, Hans shook his head. “Now that’s dedication to a sport. You wouldn’t catch me in the water in February.”
“Me neither,” I agreed. “Then again, I was never much of a surfer.”
Hans laughed. “I’ve seen you on a surfboard Michael. You’re not a surfer at all.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “Sailing’s always been my preferred way to spend time on the water.”
“And you are a half-way decent sailor,” Hans said. “I’ll give you that.”
For the next several minutes we concentrated on eating our chili-cheese dogs without spilling any of the generous helping of topping on our clothes. After downing the last bite of his, Hans wiped a dab of chili from his chin and cleared his throat.
“I suppose Maeve will tell you when she gets back, but I don’t think April will mind if I tell you first. She’s going to ask Maeve to be one of her bridesmaids.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Really. How about that? That’s nice of her considering they don’t really know each other all that well.”
“April thinks of Maeve as a friend,” Hans said, “a good friend. And since you’re going to be my Best Man, April thought Maeve should be included in the wedding party, too.”
I chewed and swallowed my last fry and drained the iced tea from my cup. “I think Maeve will like that. Who are the other bridesmaids going to be?”
Hans chewed on his lower lip. “She’s only going to have two. She’s asking Beth to be the other one.”
I had to ask, even though I thought I knew the answer. “Who’s she asking to be her maid-of-honor?”
The look on Hans’ face told me I was right. “She asked Rhiannon, didn’t she? That makes sense. They’ve been friends practically their whole lives.”
