by Emma Woods
The first group of riders needed a lot of help to get going. Several of the kids were scared of the horses and didn’t want to go first. Sarah took over with them, and they went to get familiar with Honey, one of our gentle retired mares. Jake, Chloe, Nate, and I were busy helping the braver kids climb into their saddles. Few of the parents were interested in helping their children, and I began to understand why the staff had been groaning.
I was helping a little girl named Makayla, who was nonverbal. She seemed to understand what I was saying to her despite her reticence to speak, since she kept her heels down in the stirrups just fine after I showed her what to do. However, whenever something startled her, she dropped the reins.
“Makayla, how about I hold the reins and lead Midnight while you ride? Hold on to the saddle horn, here.” I repositioned her hands.
We joined the other horses and plodded around the paddock. Makayla was soon grinning and would let go of the saddle horn to clap her hands when she was especially pleased with herself. I couldn’t stop smiling whenever she did that, delighted in her enjoyment.
One of the boys kept calling to his mother, who was standing by the fence, “Look at me, Mom! Look at me!” She took a number of photos of him with her phone and waved back whenever he called to her.
A small clutch of mothers stood together, talking with elaborate hand gestures, not caring at all what their children were doing. I pursed my lips and worked hard at not being judgmental. I reminded myself that having kids was a lot of work, and these ladies were due a bit of rest. I told myself that their children were in our capable hands. And still I gave them the evil eye each time we passed.
Then it was time to switch. We helped the kids climb down and tried to discern which of our more timid guests would be willing to ride.
“Now, Ethan, this is why we came,” one of the moms wheedled. “You need to give it a try.”
I gave her a bracing smile when she looked my way. It could be a hard call to make. Some kids ended up loving it when they got up on the horse’s back. Some cried until they were allowed to get down. We tried to let the children and their parents decide if the child should ride. I was relieved to notice that I wasn’t feeling all judgy about this mother. At least I wasn’t being unfair to all the parents.
A sudden movement to my left drew my attention. I looked over and saw that Makayla was running toward the paddock where the other horses were roaming free. I waited, watching to see what would happen. If she just wanted to stand at the fence and watch them, no harm would come to her. However, if she tried to climb through the fence, she could be in real danger.
The moment she put her hand on the fencepost and ducked to climb through, I took off running toward her.
“Stop, Makayla!” I yelled.
Either she hadn’t heard me, or she was ignoring me. She lifted her leg and, after a couple of attempts, slid it between the rails. Then she shifted her weight and was on the other side.
I arrived at the fence as she took off running through the paddock. I threw myself over the fence and tore after her. She was headed straight toward a huge, chestnut stallion named Horatio.
“Please, oh please,” I prayed as I ran. If the horse ignored her, I could get her back to safety, but if she frightened him, he might bite her or kick her.
I was gaining on the girl. I would be able to grab her in just another few steps. But like a slow-motion movie, I watched as the enormous horse registered us running at him. He rolled his eyes and bunched his muscles, ready to kick out when we went past.
“Stop, Makayla!” I screamed.
Startled by my scream, she slowed and looked back at me. It was all I needed. I grabbed her, pulling her to the side just as Horatio kicked back. If his hooves had made contact, Makayla would have been thrown, breaking a number of bones. As it was, I was able to hold her and roll her as we fell so that I landed on my side and rolled onto my back, taking her weight onto me.
Unfortunately, I threw out my free hand to stop the fall and knew instantly that I’d broken a bone when it collided with the ground. Sharp pain exploded up from my wrist even as the air was knocked out of me.
Jake and Nate arrived only a few moments later. Jake scooped Makayla up and carried her back to safety. Nate knelt over me, where I was biting my lip to try and keep from crying out over my wrist, which felt like it was being stabbed with red-hot knives.
“Are you okay, Emily?” he panted.
“My wrist,” was all I could squeak out, breathless from the pain and the fall.
Nate helped me to my feet and put an arm around my shoulders as we headed back to the fence. Hands patted my shoulders and people kept saying encouraging things, but my wrist was too painful for any of their words to register.
After a quick word with Dave, Nate ushered me to his Jeep, and I climbed in. He went to my car for my bag, and then was back almost before it registered in my pain-clouded brain that he was gone.
“We’re going to Melbourne to the hospital,” he explained. “Hold on, Em.”
The car ride was a blur. In some ways it was much longer than a half-hour, and in other ways it was much shorter. Landmarks leapt past, though I couldn’t understand how we weren’t at the hospital yet.
Once there, things moved more quickly. Thankfully, there wasn’t much of a wait, and I was taken back for x-rays. The young doctor quickly realized I was in too much pain to hear her words and, with a friendly flash of white teeth, turned her explanations to Nate. I was given some painkillers, and a cast was wrapped around my fingers and lower arm.
The pills made me groggy, and I dozed as we drove back to Bumblebee House. Jill was on hand. She took me from Nate and helped me upstairs and into bed.
When I awoke, my wrist was throbbing and it was growing dark outside. I turned on a light and blinked as I remembered what had happened. My first thought was: thank goodness Makayla was okay. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d been hurt. It was infinitely better that I’d broken a bone than if that little girl had.
Clumsy with my new cast, I changed into a pair of comfy shorts and a ‘Missouri - the Show Me State’ t-shirt. Putting my hair into a ponytail proved too hard for my tired brain, so I took my hair elastic downstairs in search of someone to help.
I was surprised to see Nate sitting on the couch, watching TV with Rosemarie.
“Hey!” He lit up when he saw me. “How are you feeling?”
“My wrist hurts,” I mumbled.
Nate checked his phone. “Yeah, it’s time for you to take another painkiller. Dr. Watkins said you’d want to make sure you took them for the first few days, at least.”
“I can’t put my hair up,” I whined and held the elastic out to Rosemarie.
“I can help,” she said and jumped up. “Everyone at the ranch was talking about how brave you were.”
I shrugged. “Anyone would have done what I did.”
“Well, thank goodness you saw that little girl when you did.” Rosemarie expertly put my hair up into a tidy bun on the top of my head, and then gave me a little push toward the couch where Nate had been sitting.
He was back in an instant with a glass of water and a pill, which I threw back gratefully. Then, I was all too happy to curl up next to him, my head on his shoulder.
“Are you hungry?” he asked and kissed the top of my head.
I shook my head. “Just tired.”
We watched whatever was on TV in silence for the next few minutes. I drifted off, the noise from the TV coming and going through my conscious brain like weak radio signals.
When I awoke, Rosemarie and Nate were having a very serious discussion. I kept my eyes closed and just listened.
“Yeah, it’s not like with Shannon,” Nate was saying.
“Really? The two of you were so serious back in high school.” Rosemarie’s voice was quiet but intense.
“I thought we were, too.” Nate sighed. “But what you think is love when you’re that young isn’t like the real thing.”
“And you know that because…?”
I felt Nate nod. “I know what it is to be in love now. I didn’t before Emily.”
In my hazy, fresh-from-sleep, painkiller-filled mental place, my heart fluttered. Nate was telling Rosemarie that he loved me. With my cheek on his shoulder and his arm around me, I knew there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
“Wow, Nate. I’m really happy for you,” Rosemarie said.
He changed the subject. “Whatever happened with that friend of Matt’s? Ty, wasn’t it? I thought you were crazy about him.”
“Nothing ever happened. I mean, he was my brother’s best friend.” Despite her protestations, Rosemarie seemed flustered.
Silence stretched. Then my housemate gently said, “If you’re in love with Emily, what do you see happening in the future? I was under the impression that she’s planning to move on sometime next year.”
Nate’s hand tightened slightly on my arm. In a voice that was so full of emotion that it squeezed my heart, he answered softly, “I wish I knew. And, you know, it’s killing me.”
17
It took two days before I felt like myself again and another full day before I began functioning mostly as usual, with my hand in a cast. Word had spread as to what had happened, and everyone who came into the Beanery on my first day back had something to say about it.
“You’re such a brave girl,” Mrs. Jennings cooed and patted my good arm as she took her cup of tea from me. “Thank goodness you were there.”
I smiled my thanks wearily. Sophie had started the shift with me, since Matt couldn’t be there first thing in the morning. It had taken some doing, but I was figuring out how to compensate for my reduced motion. At first, Sophie had insisted on doing everything. That had lasted all of one order before I told her in no uncertain terms that I would be pulling my weight if it killed me.
I had then proceeded to knock over the change jar, sending it rolling off the counter, where it smashed spectacularly on the original wood floors. Sophie had helped me pick the coins from the rubble and then swept up, since handling a broom was beyond me. Still, by noon I was doing better, and she had left me at the end of her shift with little more than a single check over her shoulder that I was surviving without her.
Things had quieted down, and I fixed myself a cup of cold-brew coffee over ice to combat my tiredness and the heat of the late-July day outside, which kept creeping in whenever the door swung open with its usual cheerful jangle.
I had my back to the door, pouring cream and sugar in my coffee, when the familiar bells announced a new customer. I turned back and saw a very pretty woman about my age wearing a fabulous professional pencil skirt, swiss dotted blouse, and trendy blazer. Her six-inch heels clicked neatly as she came closer. I admired her perfect makeup and gorgeous, rich chestnut hair whose curls bounced with each step.
“Hi,” I greeted her with a smile. I was wearing my new jeans, a slightly discolored Beanery v-neck, and no makeup. Yet, I felt no competitive rush. This woman was beautiful. Good for her. “What can I get you?”
“I’d like a soy latte with skim milk, please,” she ordered breezily.
As I began to fix her drink, I felt her eyes on me. Usually, put-together young professional women were quick to put their attention back on their phones just as soon as they could. I wondered what it was that was drawing her gaze.
I handed her the steaming cup and she paused, lips pursed.
“I don’t mean to pry, but you are the Emily who’s dating Nate Weisert, aren’t you?”
I blinked in surprise. “Yes,” I said slowly.
She stuck out a beautifully manicured hand. “I’m Shannon Eargle. Nate and I dated back in high school.”
I rubbed my sticky hand on my apron before putting it into hers. “Nice to meet you.”
Shannon bit her lip and, for the first time, seemed unsure of herself. “I came in here because I wanted to tell you something about Nate.”
A rock fell into my stomach. “Okay,” I replied, crossing my arms.
She put up her hand, eyes wide, “Oh, I’m not trying to warn you away from him or anything. He and I dated so long ago. I’m not after him, I swear.”
“You’re making me nervous. What are you here for?” I tried to smile.
She gave a little laugh before taking a deep breath. “I ran into him the other day, and I was really impressed. He seems like a whole new person. A better person, really. When he mentioned you, he was glowing. I’m so happy for him.
“When we dated back in high school, he was trying so hard to be the person everyone wanted him to be that he was miserable. I don’t think he even realized how unhappy he really was.” She looked down and shook her head. “I live in Melbourne now. I’m engaged.” She held out her left hand, where a large diamond glinted.
“Congrats,” I said genuinely.
“Thanks. Anyway, when I was driving by, I figured I’d stop in and tell you how glad I am that you’re dating him. After he and I split up, he ran around with a few girls, I think, in college. He never seemed able to find a direction for his life. Then there was that whole drunk driving thing, and I was afraid that he was going to throw his life away.”
My heart stopped. I swear it did. Numbly, I heard myself ask, “What drunk driving thing?”
Shannon’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you know? Oh, I’m so sorry. I assumed he’d told you. I don’t know if I’m the one who should say anything.”
I reached out my good hand and grabbed her wrist. “Please tell me what you know.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Nate went to Melbourne to a car dealership and test-drove a super expensive, top-of-the-line truck. He was allowed to take it out on his own, since his dad knew the owner. He picked up a friend and they started drinking. I guess they were off-roading and having a good time. But when they came back on Highway 30e, he lost control and totaled the truck.”
I froze, my brain refusing to process this new information.
Shannon looked at me and misread the signs. “Oh, it’s okay, Emily, really. He didn’t go to jail for it or anything. His dad worked it out so he could just do community service hours, and he paid for the truck to smooth things over.” She looked at me and grew concerned. “Should I have told you all that?”
I think I nodded. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Sure. Anyway, I’m glad he has you now. I guess I should get going.” And she clicked her way back to her car.
I almost ran to the back of the store, where I stood in the storeroom, shaking. Nate had totaled a car driving drunk. He’d been a drunk driver. All I could think of was the moment when my dad had come into my room, sat on the bed next to me, and told me that a drunk driver had killed my mom and my brother. And Nate was one.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t think what to say or do.
The bells jingled up front, and I tried to calm myself enough to get back to work. As I stepped out from the storeroom, I heard Matt calling my name as he came back toward his office.
“I have to go,” I stammered.
My boss looked instantly worried. “Is it your arm?”
“Yes,” I lied immediately.
“Okay, no problem. I’m here now.”
I all but sprinted to the door. I had to get away before Nate came in. It would be just my luck that he’d decide to suddenly take a coffee break. There was no way I could face him in this state.
I’d driven to work and so, I jumped in my van and drove home, unsure of how I’d gotten there once I pulled to a stop in the driveway.
“Oh, good, you’re home,” Rosa said when I came in the door. “Dave from Just Horsing Around called earlier. He asked for you to call him back.”
Hollowly, I went to the kitchen and dialed Dave’s number, thinking all the while that it was pointless. I wouldn’t be able to hear what he had to say.
“Thanks for calling me back, Emily,” he said. If I hadn’t been s
o distracted, I would have noticed that his voice was unusually solemn. “Listen, I’ve got some bad news.”
“Bad news?” I echoed.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you not to come back to Just Horsing Around for a little while.”
I stood there, trying to make sense of his words. “What?”
Dave was apologetic. “Makayla’s mother is threatening to sue the ranch and our program and, well, and you. She’s trying to say that there was some gross neglect on our part that allowed her daughter to almost get hurt.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, Emily, I’m glad you did what you did. However, until we get this straightened out, we need you to take some time off.”
I hung up woodenly without saying goodbye. Then I turned and marched up the stairs and began packing. It was easier to stop my brain from thinking and simply fill boxes and suitcases. I was surprised at how clearly and unemotionally I could look around the room for anything I’d forgotten. It took more trips up and down the stairs than when I’d moved in, since I was doing it with one hand, and alone.
I stood in the kitchen with the ever-present pad of cheery bumblebee-bordered stationery, trying to think what to write. Finally I scribbled, ‘I have to go. Thanks for everything. - Emily.’
The house was silent as I left. I climbed into my van, heart full, and turned the key. I had no plan. No idea where I was going next. I just knew I had to get away.
As I headed off down the highway, I turned the radio on loudly enough that it filled my ears and silenced any protests my good sense could make. But I couldn’t stop my brain from flipping through everything that was wrong.
I was being blamed for what had happened with Makayla.
Nate had totaled a car driving drunk.
I was leaving the first home I’d had since I was eight.
I had nowhere to go.
I hadn’t gone more than ten miles before my emotions defrosted. I pulled over into an abandoned gas station and turned my car off. Instantly, I began sobbing.
