by Tess Oliver
The window in my room, which seemed as if it had been stuck shut for a century, flew open and the letters, my school notebooks, and every other thing lighter than the computer monitor blew across the room and to the floor. A frosty cloud of sea air blew into the room. I raced to the window and pulled with all my might but it wouldn’t budge. I gave one final, herculean tug, and it swung shut easily, sending me hard onto my butt. The fog cleared and Sebastian stood over me with his arms crossed and fury swirling in his brown eyes.
I rubbed my tailbone and scowled up at him. “You know I rode horses for ten years, and I don’t think I ever fell on my ass as often as I have since you started floating around.”
He shrugged his transparent but broad shoulders still draped with the white dropped sleeve shirt. “I guess it’s a good thing it’s so round then,” he quipped before vanishing and reappearing on my windowsill.
“So round?” I pushed to my feet and brushed off my backside. “What do you mean so round? There is nothing wrong with my butt.” I began snatching up my things. A knock at my door made me jump. Mom peeked inside. My gaze flashed to the window, but Sebastian was gone.
“Everything alright, Zilly?” She looked at the floor and opened the door wider. “What on earth happened in here? It looks like a tornado swept through.”
I continued retrieving my scattered stuff. “The window blew open.”
“I’m going to make dinner while you pick up. I have something to tell you about when you come down. Oh, and I need you to keep an eye on the boys tomorrow. We’re having a sale at the shop, so I have to be there all day.”
“Can’t wait.” It wasn’t like I had anything on my social calendar anyhow. I wished Sebastian would reappear while Mom was in the room so I could convince myself that I wasn’t losing it completely. But there was no trace of him. Apparently only I was the lucky one.
Mom closed the door behind her, and as I turned, I saw the letters neatly stack themselves and slide back into the drawer, which snapped shut with a bang.
“I don’t think you should read my letters anymore. I’m tired of your vulgar critiques.”
I spun to the window. He had returned. Or more likely, he had never left. “Vulgar? Who uses that word anymore?”
“Pardon me, if my proper 19th century English is beneath your crude American mutterings.”
“I don’t mutter and my butt is not so round.” I plunked down at my computer and pretended to busy myself online. Maybe he would get bored and leave.
“She was not a bitch.” His voice was low and soft, not with anger but with sorrow.
My fingers rested over the keyboard, and I stared down at them. “I’m sorry I called her that.” I spun the chair around to face him. His face may have been incorporeal now, but it was clear that he was very handsome when he was alive. His dark, dead eyes showed far more emotion than any live guys I knew. And he had had one of those great movie star square jaws.
“What happened to her? Actually a better question—what happened to you?” Suddenly I realized I had this cool opportunity to find out what it’s like to be a ghost.
Without actually seeing him move, Sebastian was sitting across from me on the foot of my bed. His face turned to the window for a minute. He stared out at the misty, gray sky, then he looked back at me. “We moved here from England when I was fourteen.”
“Ah, that would explain the hottie accent.”
His sheer forehead crinkled and he looked annoyed. “Hottie?”
I waved my hand. “Never mind. Continue.”
He shook his head at me. “My father had invested in a ship building venture near Chesapeake Bay, and the company was prospering. So we came here to Pelican Bay. My mother had died three years earlier, and my older sister had stayed behind in England with her betrothed. Sadly, my father died of heart failure soon after our arrival. My uncle came to live with me.”
Downstairs I could hear the twins arriving home with their obnoxiously loud voices and Mom yelling at them to take off their baseball cleats. “When did you meet Emily?”
Sebastian stopped and stared down at the ground. I wondered if he saw the same as I saw or if things were different through dead eyes. My brain overflowed with questions to ask him.
He lifted his head and smiled. “I was out for a swim in the ocean, and I heard a girl scream. It was a horrifying scream. I peered out over the waves certain that someone must be drowning or something equally mortifying. But I couldn’t see anything. Then I heard the scream again. It was coming from the beach. A young girl was having a tug-of war with a huge, brown dog that had its jaw clamped around the tip of her parasol. I dashed out of the water, pried the parasol from the dog’s teeth, and handed it back to her. As she took it from me, I looked into her face and the rest of the world melted away. She was the finest creature I’d ever seen.”
Apparently ghosts can day dream because, for a moment, this one had drifted off to another time. He closed his eyes as if he was trying to conjure a clear picture of Emily.
“I guess there really is love at first sight,” I said lamely.
He opened his eyes. “Well, for me. But it took a while for Emily to love me. There were many men vying for her attention. Then one day she looked at me with those jewel colored eyes and told me she loved me and only me.”
“I hate to break the news to you but girls can change their minds quickly.” The words sort of shot out of my mouth, and suddenly, I understood why Dad used to scold me to think before I spoke. And I really needed to watch what I said to Mr. Sensitive sitting across from me. He shot across the room and perched angrily on my windowsill like an angry vulture perched on a tree branch.
“Emily loved me and only me. Back then love was real, not some superficial, pretend act so that two people can have a reason to fornicate.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth to suppress a giggle.
“What is so amusing?”
“Fornicate? You sound like my health teacher. Come to think of it, he looked like he could have been born about the same time as you.”
My stuffed animals flew off the bed and smacked into my dresser before plopping to the floor in a heap of polyester fur. “Since I have provided you with some entertainment for that silly, empty head of yours, I will be off.”
I stood and walked over to my critter collection. “Wait.” I picked up the rabbit and shoved it under my arm and pounded the hippo against the bear to get rid of dust and dog hair before arranging them back on my bed. “I won’t laugh anymore at anything you say.” I wanted him to stay and tell his story. And he seemed to need to tell it. “Please, I want to hear about real love. What does heartbreak feel like?” It suddenly sunk in like lead weights in my stomach; I had never been in love. Sebastian was right about the superficial part. I dated Blake just because he had a lifted truck and blue eyes. The more I thought about it, I realized I didn’t even like to kiss the guy.
Sebastian was at the bookcase. The drawer slid open and the letters floated out. The edges of the envelopes flipped as if an invisible thumb had run over them. “Heartbreak feels like unopened letters.”
Every time he wrote and received no reply, his despair must have grown. Yet he didn’t give up.
Sebastian hovered directly in front of me now. I hadn’t seen him move at all. His nearness made his image blur, yet instead of the usual chill around him, the air warmed. “If you want to know what heartbreak feels like, watch your mother some time when she does not realize you are looking at her. You’ll know then.”
“My mom? But she let my dad leave. She didn’t even try to stop him. And now he’s found someone else. She couldn’t have been too broken up about it.”
“Watch her.” He disappeared.
“Wait, Sebastian. You haven’t explained how you died.” No response. Damn and he was just about to get to the meaty part. The voices downstairs had quieted too, which meant the boys were doing homework and Mom was probably busy in the kitchen. I had no idea what he’d meant about Mom. S
he seemed extra sad for a long time after they’d decided to split up, but she was always resolute about Dad leaving. And how would a dead guy know anything about it?
The boys were downing glasses of milk, and Mom was putting away a bag of groceries as I stepped into the kitchen.
“What’s up?” I asked as if I’d just been upstairs studying.
Mom pulled her head out of the canned food cupboard and smiled at me. “I met someone down at the shop today.”
Now Mom was going to start dating too. Everything was getting weirder and weirder.
“His name is Moses Chandler, and he owns the stables on the other side of the cove.” She stacked two cartons of eggs in the refrigerator.
“That’s really exciting, Mom.”
“That’s not the exciting part, Zilly. Moses says he’s getting too old to work the horses. Something about arthritis in his hands.”
I doubted Mom had plans to take up with an old guy which could only mean one thing.
“He needs someone to work the horses for him.”
Bingo. “I don’t know, Mom. I can only imagine the broken down mares or unbroken ranch horses I guy with the name Moses would have.”
“You’re such a snob, Brazil. His wife used to compete in Grand Prix championships. She doesn’t ride anymore, but the horses still need to be worked.”
“Maybe.” This was sounding better and better. “It would be nice to ride again.”
“And it’s for pay.”
“I’ll do it.”
Mom folded the grocery bag and put it in the laundry room. “I wrote down the address. You can go see him tomorrow if you’re up to a walk along the beach. But you’ll have to take the boys along.” She walked over and put her arm around my shoulder. “I think riding horses again will do you a world of good.”
The poor woman still thought I was imagining ghosts. If she only knew the truth.
****
Tyler stumbled into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. There was a terrible frown on his face as he yanked out a chair and plopped down hard.
“What’s your problem?” I asked.
“Raymond is an idiot,” he grumbled. It was unusual to hear him speak that way about his other half. They both seemed to have eased into their new school without a hitch. If fact, we were already receiving a rash of phone calls with feminine giggles before the hang up.
Raymond came in next. His face was equally grumpy.
“Great. So now you’re both in a bad mood.” I poured some batter on the griddle.
“What? Do you think you’re the only person in this house that gets to be in a bad mood?” Raymond asked. I swung around. Tyler was trying to suppress a smile.
“Pretty much,” I answered. “So knock it off. Mom left a note and you guys are supposed to weed the yard. Then you’re walking with me to the stables so I can see about a job.”
They moaned simultaneously. I flipped the first pancake. It was slightly black. “That one is for Raymond,” Tyler called. Raymond elbowed him hard.
“Enough. In a minute I’m going to let you make your own damn pancakes.”
I decided to join the boys in weeding since between them throwing dirt clods at each other and having a contest to see who could jump the furthest from a running start off the porch, I saw little actual weed removal. Plus the sunshine outside seemed more inviting than the brooding spirits inside, even though, my particular brooding spirit had not materialized all morning. I guess when you have eternity in front of you, sulking for several days straight isn’t that big of a stretch.
On the Mount Stables was more rundown than I’d expected. The word rustic would be the nice way to describe it. It looked nothing like the pristine, prefabricated tan and forest green barns at Oak Hill. The pathways to the barn back in Boston were neatly groomed decomposed granite with symmetrically placed boxwood edges running along either side. This place was an uneven pattern of redwood stalls and pipe corrals. Giant shade trees surrounded the entire place, completely blocking the view of the road behind it. Some of the horses had a great ocean view. These horses looked happier than the animals stuck in the sterile environment at Oak Hill.
The twins stopped at a round pen where a huge, sorrel gelding was turned out. I joined them. The horse came to me immediately and brought with him the warm familiar scent of pine shavings and grass, a smell I’d always treasured. The animal made it immediately obvious that he would stand perfectly still all day for a hearty neck scratching.
“That’s Legend,” a man’s voice said from behind me.
I turned. It was an older man with shaggy gray hair that reached his collar. He was wearing a floppy brown felt hat that might have looked silly on someone else, but it was perfect on him. The soft wrinkles of his face showed a man who had smiled a lot in his life, a man who had seen good days and bad and had weathered them all with an easy going shrug.
Legend nudged my hand with his nuzzle reminding me that his scratching session had not ended. I reached up and stood on tiptoes to rub his forehead. “He must be seventeen hands.”
“Seventeen-one. Use to jump five feet from a standstill. Bowed a tendon once and was never the same.” The man walked closer and put out his hand. I shook it. His fingers were callused from work. “I’m Moses,” he said with a kind smile.
“I guess that explains the name of the barn,” I said. “This is Tyler and Raymond. I’m Brazil. And please don’t ask me why.”
“Tell you what, you don’t ask me to recite the Ten Commandments, and I won’t ask you about South America.”
I nodded. “Deal.” I looked around. “How many horses do you have boarding here?”
“At the moment, twenty four. Two are my own. Legend here and the Warmblood over there is my wife’s horse, Dusty. He has some long, ridiculous show name that I can never remember, so I just call him Dusty on account that he kicks up a helluva lot of it when he’s in the arena.”
In a nicely kept stall across from the riding arena stood a chestnut Warmblood who looked like he’d seen some titles in his day. “He was my wife’s favorite horse. You could light a firecracker under his butt and nothing would spook him. Steady as rain in the rainforest.”
“That’s the best kind of horse,” I said.
“Been around horses long?”
“Since I was seven. My mom used to say they were in my blood.”
Moses nodded. He didn’t need to say a word. It was obvious they were in his blood too.
“You’re mom said you might be interested in a part time job. Most of the owners only come out on the weekend. They pay me to lunge and groom during the week.” He lifted his hands and I noticed, for the first time, his crooked fingers. “Arthritis is slowing me down these days. Hardly ever ride anymore. My wife neither. Our two horses need to be ridden. I’ll pay eight bucks an hour.”
I glanced around. Some of the horses were wandering out of their stalls waiting for dinner. Legend snorted and sprayed moisture on the back of my neck. I laughed. It was all so familiar and I felt more solid just being around horses again. I stuck out my hand. “I accept.”
By the time Mom got off work, the weeds in the yard still flourished, no see-through visitors had appeared, and Tyler and Raymond were speaking again. “How’d everything go?” Mom asked. “I was surprised no one called me even once.”
“I got the job at the stables.”
“Terrific. And how were the boys?”
“The brats were both in bad moods today. They were pissed at each other about something.”
“I’m not surprised,” Mom gave each of her four-legged fans a hug.
I put the last washed dish in the rack. “You knew they were mad at other?” I dried my hands and noticed Mom was giving me a look that bordered on an eye roll.
“Brazil, you may find this hard to believe, but your father’s leaving has been hard for all of us. Not only you.”
“What the hell did I do?” I asked incredulously. “You’re pissed at me because the boys were in a bad m
ood? You’re the one that let Dad leave.” It was another stupid blurting of words that I seemed to be highly skilled at.
Mom flopped onto a chair and restacked the napkins in the holder. Weariness washed the color from her face. “Is that what you think? You think I let him leave? I’ve got news for you, kid, your father wanted to leave. He walked out on his hysterical teenage daughter without looking back. Take him off of the fucking pedestal, Brazil. He’s not as wonderful as you imagine.” She was on the edge of screaming, but it didn’t make me feel better. My mom was the type of person who only screamed if something scared her. Like when Darcy ran after a turned out horse and nearly got his head kicked in. Or when Carrington spooked at a garbage bag and threw me over the arena fence. As I’d hit that point of no return when a rider knows she’s about to eat dirt, all I could think of was this was going to hurt and it’s going to scare the crap out of Mom. When I came too after the fall, Mom’s deathly white face was hanging over mine.
Now we faced each other in the kitchen, only it was sadness not fear that paled her skin. I’d thought that if she showed some anger it would make me feel better. But this was real anger and it didn’t help. My throat tightened and tears were clinging to my bottom lashes. My usual sharp tongue had retreated.
Mom swept around once with her arm. “You don’t actually think that I love being in this decrepit, old house. I gave up friends too, Brazil.” Her voice softened. A flaring of my mom’s temper was just that, a momentary warning flash. “I’m sorry I spoke so harshly about your father. I never want to harm your opinion of him. I only need you to realize that this was not all my fault.”
I stared at the ground. All I could think was that she didn’t seem to try hard enough to turn things back around. As their once good marriage started to disintegrate before our eyes, it didn’t seem like Mom put in any effort to save it.
“I’m taking Darcy for a walk before I make dinner. Want to come with me?” she asked as she reached for the leash on the hook by the door. Darcy pounced on her, nearly knocking her out onto the back stoop.
