Piper, Once & Again

by Caroline E. Zani

  Piper watched through the small window near her hearth as they stepped through the gate into the stable yard, and her breath caught in her throat as her father scooped up one of the barn kittens and nuzzled it. She couldn’t remember her father ever seeming happy since her mother had passed from this life. She was glad to see him smile, relax, and be excited about his grandchild. She turned back to the vegetables she had been washing and cutting for the stew they would have for their evening meal. She carefully finished cutting the potatoes, carrots, and leeks, and tossed them into the cast iron pot on her stove top. To it, she added the large pieces of salted beef her father had brought from the market and a little black pepper. After adding more wood to the fire, she turned her attention to her knitting. She had been knitting a blanket for the baby but was not pleased with the way it was coming along. She had no mother to teach her the things a young woman needs to know as she is growing up. Vander’s mother was a wonderful substitute, if there can be such a thing, teaching her the basics of knitting, sewing, pregnancy, and what to expect of childbirth and baby care. Piper was very nervous about the birth, especially since her closest neighbor to the north had died in childbirth a month prior. As soon as she was certain she was with child, she asked her mother-in-law if she would help at the birth. With tears in her gray eyes, Amélie said she would be honored to help. “I only wish that your mother could be here, too, love,” she told Piper.

  To this Piper responded, “God gave me one mother for the first years of my life and then called her home. I was angry at Him for this until I realized that you would be my mother from then on. I will always miss my Mère, and I will always love her. But now I have you and I am thankful for that.”

  As she knitted, she periodically stopped to gauge her progress, often pulling the yarn apart to knit again. She stopped suddenly when she felt her baby fluttering inside her. She wished Vander were close by as he loved to feel the baby when it moved. Putting her needles and yarn aside she looked at her belly, swollen and full of life. Tears threatened to flow until she reminded herself that this was a happy occasion and demanded the tears stay put. The thought that perhaps her mother was there with her in spirit comforted her.

  She got up from her chair at the table and stirred the stew. She noticed the sun sitting in the western sky and thought how short the days seemed this time of year. She hurried to the door and picked up the bucket of cracked corn from the stool near the door and stepped outside to feed her hens. The cold air greeted her, and she stepped back for a moment. She took her wool cloak off the peg by the door and wrapped herself in it. Out in the cloudless evening, she looked up at the stars and wondered for the first time in her life how long she would be on earth. She wondered if she would outlive Vander and have to live out her days alone or if he would be the one to mourn her. Which one is worse? She shrugged and thought it was morbid, but hoped anyway that they could die together and not have to miss one another for even a season.

  That thought dismissed the matter from her mind altogether as she tossed the corn to the hungry hens, who soon would need to roost in the barn to keep from freezing. She noticed one of the hens had a broken leg and wondered how it had happened. The hen, she thought, would make a wonderful meal when Marek came to visit. Her brother hadn’t come around much lately and she wondered why. Vander had hired him to help with the farm when they were first married but he abruptly stopped coming after only three weeks. Vander explained that her brother found working with their father and working the farm too much on him. But Piper didn’t fully believe it as her father had told her that Marek did not work with him at all when he was working the farm. She didn’t challenge her husband about this, though. Piper felt that Vander would not lie to her, and so she decided it was better left between the men. She missed her brother, but he was not the same brother she remembered growing up with. He was a handful of mischief then, but given the fact that he was without a mother, and his father was not much more than a provider of meals, his behavior was always deemed acceptable. Until, that is, he grew into a young man.

  The villagers often regarded Marek as different and not wholly trustworthy. His quiet way was often perceived as stealth and he was blamed for more than a few missing hens and broken windows. He was an excellent craftsman like his father, but had few social skills, and he often scared girls he showed interest in. Marek was handsome in a dark way, his hair unruly and longer than that of most respectable men. He was very tall and muscular like their father. She was proud of him and knew that he would be all right if only he could meet a girl and settle down, have a family. She knew that would make him happy. Piper made a mental note to tell her father to let Marek know that he was welcome to visit any time for a meal and that he could stay for a while and help her with the winter chores before the baby came.

  It was late in the evening before the men came into the house for their dinner. Piper served them steaming bowls of stew, thick slices of bread, and wine. She nibbled on some cheese and bread and sipped some broth as she had eaten her own meal hours before.

  Vander took his wife’s hand and said, “The cradle is coming along and even though we still have a lot of work to do, it’s really taking shape. I hope you’ll like it, Piper.”

  She looked proudly at her husband and said, “Of course I will like it. How lucky our baby is to have a father and grandfather so talented and kind.”

  He laughed. “Your father has the talent; I just do as I’m told.” They all laughed then, the three of them at the table, two candles lighting the small room.

  When it was time for sleep, Piper’s father climbed to the loft and called goodnight to the expecting parents. They wished him a good night’s sleep and teased him about the kitten he seemed to have adopted who rested curled up, purring on his shoulder and didn’t budge until morning.

  Piper and Vander climbed into bed in their bedchamber and held each other tightly, knowing that a love like theirs was not to be taken for granted, and that there is no guarantee how long they might have one another. They knew they were lucky and that God had smiled down on them.

  “I never want to know what life would be like without you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “You will never be without me, Love. Not in this life or in any other.”

  She ruffled his hair, “What? What did you say, Vander?”

  “Shhh … go to sleep. The morning will be here soon. Just know that there will never be a time that you won’t feel my love. You are my every good thing.”

  Chapter 15

  WAKING TO THE CALLS OF Valo, Dragon, and Oliver from the barn was a salve on her heart. She missed them so and had wanted to visit them the night before when they arrived home from the airport, but felt it better not to disturb them so late. Viceroy was, however, a different story. He heard the Volvo pull into the drive and was so excited when they stepped into the house that his little heart was like a hummingbird’s wings, beating so fast it was just a hum. He jumped and whined and spun in circles until Paul bent down and scooped him up, holding him tight. Piper kissed his little face and tugged on his warm ears.

  “I missed you little guy. Have you been keeping an eye on the place, you little bugger?”

  He seemed to know what she said, tilting his head and squirming in Paul’s arms. He slept between them that night, a rare treat they just couldn’t deny him. How he ended up under the covers at the foot of the bed by morning, they didn’t know, but he managed it. And happy as a pig in mud as Piper’s dad always said.

  Piper rolled onto her side, feeling for Paul but he wasn’t there, his side of the bed cold. She pulled herself up, feeling rested and happy to be home. Stepping out of bed, and stretching her tall frame backward, Piper felt her muscles come alive. Knowing she would be busy catching up on work for the next week or so, she promised herself this one day to do what she loved most. She pulled on a pair of navy breeches and her favorite old Les Misérables t-shirt which had a couple of tiny holes and bore hoof-oil stains. She pulled her hai
r back into a flowing black ponytail and brushed her teeth. Her skin was clear and looked somehow refreshed this morning. Her mother always said that happiness does wonders for the skin. She smiled and raised one brow. She made a mental note to call her parents. Maybe later today, she thought. Wanting to keep her skin looking young as long as possible, she washed her face and dotted on a citrus-scented moisturizer.

  She trotted down the stairs. “Good morning sweets,” she said when she saw her husband, his five o’clock shadow having evolved into a beard.

  “Hi, Darlin’, want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, I want to feed the guys so I can ride in a little bit,” she said, heading for the mudroom.

  “I took care of them, Hon.”

  She stopped and turned, seeing her husband with two mugs of coffee in his hands, waiting for her and making her heart skip a beat. “You’re the best; did I ever tell you?” she said without looking him in the eye.

  He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling dramatically. “Umm, no. No, you never have,” he teased.

  “Oh, well you are.” She took the mug from him and sat in the breakfast nook to have her coffee. She sat with her foot tapping, shifting in her seat, not really wanting to be indoors but also not wanting the cold interchange with Paul to continue.

  “So, do you want to talk about anything?”

  He had tried to ask this on the flight home but knew it wasn’t fair to either of them or anyone else on the plane if an argument broke out at 30,000 feet with nowhere to go.

  “No, not really. Do you?”

  Her voice was cool, which was a pleasant improvement over the last couple of days.

  “Yes, I do. I think you owe me an explanation. Don’t you?”

  He looked directly into her eyes so that she would not avert his gaze. She didn’t usually back down in a staring contest.

  “What would you like me to explain?”

  She raised her brows and tilted her head mockingly and silently reminded herself that she had nothing to hide.

  “Well, for starters, where were you the night after you left the inn? I was worried and you didn’t bring your phone so I couldn’t even reach you.”

  She sat up straight, ready for battle. Placing the mug of bitter-tasting coffee on the table a little too hard got her heart beating faster, and she scolded him for treating her like a child.

  “I just went out for something to eat since you had already eaten with your investor friends.”

  She knew she sounded childlike but didn’t much care. I don’t need this right now, not from my husband.

  “And you know, leaving me in the hospital so you could keep your precious meeting really pissed me off, if you must know.”

  He looked at her with a look that said come on now.

  “What?” she said and shook her head.

  “You know we only had a few days there, and Mr. Porrazzo is a busy man. He couldn’t change our appointment. You know that, Piper, honey.”

  “Don’t ‘honey’ me,” she said as she got up, took her mug to the sink and poured it out slowly, making sure he knew what she was doing. She walked quickly to the mudroom and pulled on her field boots with the hooks that hung on the wall. She wasn’t sure there was much else in life that gave her the same feeling as well-worn riding boots did: comfort, second skin, anticipation, purpose, joy.

  She reached for her helmet and stopped. “Screw it,” she muttered under her breath as she made her escape and slammed the door behind her, leaving Viceroy and Paul looking at each other in confusion.

  As she neared the barn, the scent of the horses and shavings filled her, and she could feel her heart slow. All three horses looked up from their morning hay. Valo’s nostrils flared, and he whinnied a surprisingly loud, Hello, and where have you been?

  She smiled and said, “I missed you, too, all of you.” She went into the feed room and grabbed some Rounders for each of them. She offered one crunchy apple cinnamon treat to Oliver, one to Dragon, and two to Valo, never hiding her obvious favoritism. She slipped his halter over his ears and clipped the throatlatch, slid his door open, and stepped back. He wasted no time in stepping out of his stall into the aisle and halting at the crossties. Her friends all laughed when she used the crossties because they knew that he would just as soon stand for her as long as she wanted him to. She quickly ran a soft brush over his sleek coat, checked his hooves for small rocks, and decided they did not need picking. She carefully sprayed horrible-smelling insect repellent over his body, making sure not to miss his belly and ears, to avoid him being ambushed by deer flies.

  She didn’t want to be in the barn if Paul decided to bring his questions out here to her sanctuary. She quickly tossed a navy quilted saddle pad onto his back and followed it with the beautiful black stock saddle that Paul had presented to her the day Valo arrived. It had been custom-made for Valo in Holland and fit him perfectly like her boots fit her. Tightening his girth and patting his neck, she decided she was really angry with Paul. How dare he? Was he questioning my integrity, my fidelity? She slipped reins over her horse’s neck and held the snaffle bit under his mouth, which he opened without hesitation and let the metal glide gently in over his tongue, avoiding his teeth. She pushed the headstall over his giant ears and fixed his forelock so that it flowed gently over one eye and hung past his muzzle. She fastened the throatlatch.

  “Come on, walk on.” He turned and followed her, only one stride behind. She needn’t lead him with reins; he wasn’t going anywhere she wasn’t. By stopping and turning toward him, she silently asked him to stand. After lowering her stirrups on each side, she came back to his left. She gathered the reins in her left hand, lifted her foot up to the stirrup iron, bounced twice on her right foot and hoisted herself up, gently swinging her leg over his back, settling into the saddle. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  Home.

  She took another, deeper breath and decided not to turn toward the house in case she saw Paul coming out to the barn. She didn’t want to see him. Gathered reins in hand, she squeezed her legs against Valo’s side and instantly felt a calming reassurance that she was where she was meant to be. She rode through the woods, past the meadow, and out to the pasture that would soon be tilled under in preparation for the first planting of grapevines. Valo snorted as he warmed up and she could feel his muscles tense as he anticipated her letting him go. She smiled to no one and leaned forward, loosening her reins and grabbing a fistful of mane. Valo tossed his head and lunged forward, his stride having unbelievable scope.

  They covered a hundred feet in a matter of seconds, his hooves pounding the ground sending quail fluttering into the morning air. She stood in her stirrups, her upper body poised over his neck, her hands giving and taking as horse and rider as one thundered through the field. She could feel the power beneath her and knew that he had more to give. She clucked her tongue and squeezed her legs against him again. His ears flicked back for a moment showing that he was listening and then pulled against the reins as if to answer with “Really? More? No problem.” He shifted into a higher gear and was soon in a full gallop. Piper thought for the briefest moment how stupid it was to leave her helmet behind, but she really could have cared less this morning.

  She gently pulled on her left rein and turned him toward the center of the field, and, as they approached, she sat back and let him know she wanted him to slow. She loved the feeling of pulling up a horse and falling into that perfect collected canter that made the rest of the world stand still. He broke to a trot and she posted for a few strides, and sat back, asking him to halt. The wind kicked up a bit and sent her ponytail up and over her head, Valo’s mane mimicking it but on a much grander scale. She released her grip on the reins, letting them fall and get lost in his thick mane. Taking her feet out of the stirrups and letting them dangle felt good. She leaned far back in the saddle and stretched her arms up over her head feeling the soreness in her neck and shoulders loosen.

  “The outside of a horse is goo
d for the inside of a man,” she said, quoting Ben Franklin. Valo stood still and snorted as if to say, “Come on, I’m not tired, that was fun.” Feeling the slightest bit bad about having bitten her husband’s head off and wasting his terrible coffee, she decided she must apologize when she got back. But she wasn’t in a hurry to eat crow, so she once more gathered her reins, lifted her knees until her toes found their stirrups and soon they were again flying over the ground, the wind roaring in her ears, blocking out all the sorrow, the anger, the despair.

  She lived to ride and hoped that there would never be a day that she was too old to get into the saddle. Paul once suggested that if that were ever the case, he would buy her a carriage and she could learn to drive her horses. The look she responded with cemented in his mind that he should never broach that subject ever again, leaving him to wonder if he would ever understand women.

  When they reached the edge of the field, she decided they ought to take the trail out to Mr. Boudreau’s house and thank him for taking care of her animals. The head of the trail was crisscrossed with two fallen branches, and as they approached, Valo’s ears flicked backward once more, listening, waiting for his cue. Piper leaned forward and loosened the reins a bit and felt him once more shift into overdrive. He cleared the jump with several feet to spare, all of his finely-toned muscles launching them into the air. She smiled, thinking how she’d been told time and again, “Friesians don’t jump.” She said out loud to no one, “This one does,” and patted his thick, arched neck as they cantered up the hill and deeper into the woods. When they slowed, she gave him his head, letting the reins fall gently onto his mane. He knew the way. She listened to the sounds of the woods: twigs snapping under hooves, squirrels scurrying from branch to branch, birdsong, the groaning of leather. She let her feet dangle below the stirrups again and wished she had left her saddle at home.

  Suddenly, Valo lifted his head high, planted his front hooves firmly on the ground, and pulled up short, his muscles tensing. She looked around nervously, as he wasn’t one to spook easily.