By the time Luz got down to the stable, Aaron was opening the door of the SUV. A thin, pale little girl scrambled out, looking around with interest. Chloe’s green eyes regarded Luz without apprehension.
“Hi, Aaron. Chloe.” She smiled at the child. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. Your dad thought you’d enjoy coming out to meet Rumbles.”
“Rumbles?” The pale blond eyebrows went up a little. “What kind of a dumb name is that?” The eyes might be her father’s, but the coloring must be her mother’s—and the slight air of disdain, too.
“Chloe! That’s no way—”
Luz waved off the rebuke. “When you hear her talk to you, you’ll understand,” she assured the little girl. She gestured at the open door. “Come on. Let’s get you ready to ride.”
They walked into the shadowy stable together, and Chloe’s glance darted from stall to stall. “They’re all so pretty!” For the first time, a touch of nervousness flitted across her face. “Big, too, huh?”
“Yeah, but these aren’t the ones you’ll start on,” Luz reassured. “We’ll bring out a pony for you. Just wait here a minute.” She went into the next to the last stall and emerged leading a caramel-colored Shetland pony. Rumbles’ mane and tail fell in thick platinum shimmers, and Luz smiled at Chloe’s gasp of delight.
“Pretty girl, isn’t she?”
Chloe glanced up at her dad. “She’s mine, right?”
He smiled, but shook his head. “Not so fast, friend. You don’t even know if you’ll like riding.”
Chloe might have argued, but the mare’s ears pricked with interest and she lifted her head to nicker. The nickering went on and on, a surprisingly deep tone that had given Rumbles her name.
Aaron stared. Chloe giggled. “Horses don’t sound like that!” Excited, she rushed forward. The pony threw up her head, and only Luz’s quick arm, thrust out as a barrier, and stopped Chloe.
“Hold on, Chloe. You never run up to a horse,” she warned.
Chloe’s mouth turned down petulantly. “But—”
“Is this the gentlest thing you have?” Aaron asked. “You said—”
Luz breathed out a short puff of exasperation, not unlike Rumbles’ muffled snort. If I could handle a room full of first graders, I can handle one.
“Chloe, horses—even ponies—are bigger than you. If you scare them, they hurt you. Even when they don’t mean to.” She patted Rumbles then brushed the pony’s long forelock aside.
“She’s got a crown on her head!” Chloe crowed, and Luz smiled.
“Isn’t it something? Horse people call it a star, but you’re right—it’s a crown.”
“You should have named her Crown, then,” Chloe suggested, but without the disdain this time. Suddenly she giggled again. Or even ‘Royal Highness’—’cause she’s a shorty!”
Luz laughed with her. “That would have been a cool name,” she agreed. “But what about ‘Princess’? Bet that’s your nickname.”
A look of dismay darkened Aaron’s face, almost as if he knew what Chloe would say.
The child’s face turned hard, too hard for someone so young, and disdain became contempt.
“I’m no one’s princess,” she said. “Mommy said never, ever let anyone call me princess. She hated princesses.”
Luz hesitated briefly, but beneath the scorn, she heard a note of pain.
“Why did she hate princesses?” she asked gently, and Chloe shrugged her thin little shoulders.
“They’re weak and afraid of everything,” she explained, as if any fool would know that. “They’re only in fairy tales anyway.”
Luz shrugged. “Okay.” She held out a hand. “Come meet Rumbles, slowly.”
Chloe inched forward, and Luz grinned. “Hold out your hand and let her sniff it.” She demonstrated, and Chloe slowly held out her own palm. Rumbles sniffed and brushed it with her velvety muzzle, and Chloe giggled again.
“She’s funny,” Chloe decided, reaching out slowly to trace the white crown. Rumbles lifted her head and blew softly at the little girl’s cheek.
“She thinks you’re funny, too,” Luz translated. “Let’s get her saddled and you can ride her.”
While Luz showed her how to lead the pony, Aaron mumbled something about being right back. By the time he came back, Luz was showing her how to check the girth to be sure the saddle was tight.
“We’re just about ready, pr—” she assured Chloe, aware of the girl’s impatience. She cut off the hated ‘princess’ that almost slipped out. Her stepdaughter Lily had loved the nickname, had immersed herself in the fairy tale world of princesses and happily ever after, but this was a different girl. Not even a girl she knew well, though kids Chloe’s age always captivated her.
A soft thud sounded behind them, and Luz couldn’t help gaping at Chloe’s father. He had a helmet, elbow pads, and kneepads clutched to his chest. A large bottle of hand sanitizer dangled precariously from under an elbow, and the oversized white box on the sawdust-covered floor was emblazoned with a bright red cross.
No. Accidents could happen, even from a short fall, on deep sand, from a walking pony. She would not laugh at him. But remembering her own wild races across pastures and over fences in the pre-awareness days, she wondered how long he’d stay if he knew how oblivious of such equipment she’d been.
He flushed a little, as if he actually could read her mind, but didn’t yield. “Safety first,” he told her gravely, but the dimples that came and went appeared briefly.
“You know, it doesn’t snow here much,” she answered, and he lifted both eyebrows. She waved a hand at the gear. “We can use the time we save putting on snowsuits for all that.”
“Look, if she falls, I want her shatterproof. She needs to bounce.”
Chloe looked a little concerned. “Me? Bounce?”
“Well, only if you fall really hard from a really high place. And then you’ll be really glad I made you wear all this stuff.”
He held out the helmet, then the kneepads and elbow pads, watching as she put each item on. When she was suitably padded, he grinned at Luz.
“What do you think? Will she bounce?”
Luz looked the little girl over again. “Sky high,” she agreed, making Chloe giggle again. “I’m not sure we can get her on Rumbles before she does, though.”
Her dad shrugged. “I’ll just lift her up—”
“No.” Luz waved him off as he hoisted Chloe into the air, looking like a mini-balloon from the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. “I have a rule about the children who ride here. They learn to take care of their own mounts. At least to whatever extent they can. I’ll show Chloe how to get on.”
“But—”
“Put the kid down and step away from the pony,” Luz ordered, and Chloe laughed and squirmed until her father set her back down.
“Good.” Luz ignored the anger tightening Aaron’s lips, and stood by Rumbles’ head. The pony wasn’t a biter, but better safe than sorry. Especially, since she’d never been ridden by a Martian before. She beckoned Chloe closer. “Always mount from the left side.”
Chloe looked at her skeptically. “Why? What difference does it make?”
Did the girl question everything, darn it? “I read it in a book,” Luz answered, trying not to show her irritation. A six-year-old needed answers from her? Answers she either didn’t remember or had never learned? “So just do it.”
Chloe looked at her dad, then at Luz. “But books aren’t always true.”
“This book was true.” Luz bit back the “dammit!” “It was non-fiction. That means—”
“I know what that means,” Chloe sniffed. “They taught us that stuff in Kinder. And I’m in first grade now.”
“Look, captains go down with the ship and people mount horses from the left,” Luz muttered perversely. Lily had never questioned her wisdom, darn it. Even without words, Chloe managed to express disbelief. And disdain.
“Listen to Ms. Wilkinson,” Chloe’s father interjected. His tone sugg
ested rather than ordered, but Chloe’s shoulders shrugged faintly and she stepped towards the pony’s side.
“Today I’ll hold the reins,” Luz said. “Just turn the stirrup toward you, put your foot in, then hold on to the horn, and swing up.”
Chloe looked at the saddle blankly, and then back at her. Then she sighed. “Bikes are easier. Even without the baby wheels.”
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Luz assured her. She reached past to turn the stirrup towards Chloe. “Put your hand here, on the saddle horn, and just swing up.”
Chloe put a hand on the horn, but cast a doubtful look at her dad. He looked apprehensive and as unsure as his daughter, but finally nodded. “What she said,” he offered by way of assurance. “Swing up.”
So Chloe tried to swing, but Rumbles took a sideways step, and Chloe hopped awkwardly along in mid-swing.
“Try again,” Luz urged, stopping the pony and reaching out to help Chloe regain her balance.
“I’ve got you, baby!” Aaron assured, approaching in a rush and reaching out to hoist Chloe.
And hoist he did. Chloe cleared the saddle, rubber padding and all, and plopped off on the other side. Rumbles turned her head to sniff disdainfully.
“You threw me over the pony!” Chloe accused.
“Oh, God! Did I hurt you? Baby, are you all right? I didn’t—what hurts?”
“You threw me!” Chloe repeated, walking behind the pony to confront her dad.
Neither Chloe nor Aaron realized that Luz didn’t breathe until the six-year-old cleared the pony’s rear. Rumbles occasionally kicked.
I’ll tell her later, Luz promised herself silently, and pasted a smile back on her face. “Everyone okay?”
“Take me home,” Chloe demanded, and her dad fished in his pockets for keys.
“No!”
Chloe, Aaron, and Rumbles turned to look at Luz.
“You always get right back on when you fall off,” she explained, not wanting the girl to be traumatized. She’d had enough of that in her young life, apparently.
“Another one of your ‘just because’ rules?” Aaron muttered, hesitating with the keys dangling out of his clutched fist.
Chloe considered the explanation before shaking her head. “I didn’t fall off,” she said reasonably. “Dad threw me over the stupid pony.”
Her dad looked stricken. “I—I—”
He stopped, and Luz raised an eyebrow. For a six-year-old with no interest in princesses, she had the diva attitude down pat. Part of her wanted to laugh. Another part tugged on the little portion of her that still felt compassion and reminded her that he’d lost a wife. Chloe had lost a mother.
So she stepped between the two.
“Seriously, Chloe, you’re not going to wimp out. Try it again. Rumbles won’t move.”
Chloe looked at the pony, then at Luz, but not at her father.
“And you couldn’t just lift me up?”
“Maybe this time,” Luz agreed. “Some people never get on their own horses.”
She stepped nearer and picked Chloe up. The girl’s body was tense, but weightless. Fragile, somehow. Something deep inside pulled at her. She tamped it down.
“Like who?” Chloe demanded. “Who doesn’t get on her own horse?”
“Well, of course, a princess never would. They have—”
“Put me down.”
“But—”
“I’ll get up alone.”
Luz smothered her grin against pale hair almost the color of Rumbles’ mane and set her down. “Try again, then,” she urged.
Chloe obediently put her hand back on the horn and pulled up. Rumbles stood frozen in place, and Chloe settled into the saddle glowing with accomplishment.
“I did it!”
“Sure did!” Luz winked at the little girl. “It’s easier when your dad doesn’t throw you all the way over, isn’t it?”
Chloe giggled, not at all worried by her father’s scowl and murmured protest. “Now what?”
Luz unwrapped the long lead she’d been using as a belt and clipped it onto the pony’s halter before handing the reins to Chloe.
“Now? We ride!”
Chapter Three
Aaron looked across the small table in the Rose Creek Diner, trying to listen to Esmeralda, but his mind was on other things. The counselor was animated and flirting openly, all silk and sophistication, eyes as green as his own or Chloe’s.
Across the table the overly loud clink of silverware on a plate and the sudden silence told him he’d drifted off on her again. What was wrong with him? The redheaded woman had turned every head in the room when she walked in. Esmeralda could have stepped off the runway in her short skirt and high heels, and his libido should have been surging. He frowned, aware of a distinct lack of interest in his eye-stopping dinner partner. He had warned her this wasn’t a date, though, so she shouldn’t be as annoyed as she seemed.
She didn’t seem to realize Chloe was all he had, all he could think about when he left her alone, because he knew, too personally, how quickly life could be snatched away. Everything could become nothing in the time it took for an angry kiss or the slam of a car door or … a bullet.
He brushed at his dark thoughts and focused instead on Chloe as she’d been yesterday, after her third riding lesson. She was alive with excitement and as happy as she’d ever been. Herself again. His lips twitched as he remembered the over-enthusiastic high fives that had Luz cringing away complaining of damaged palm syndrome.
“Well!” Esmeralda’s tart retort pulled him back into her presence. “Rejoining me, Aaron?” Under the table, her almost bare foot stroked his ankle. He resisted the urge to jerk away. But she needed to know—
“Relax,” she purred, so he obviously hadn’t fooled her. She made him uncomfortable. He’d been alone so long, much longer than the year since Stella’s death. Alone, really, since their marriage began and the crazy relationship they’d established at college matured. And died. Yet in spite of any sudden surge of desire, he wanted nothing more than to head for the door.
“I told you this was a mistake. Stella—”
“Is dead.” Esmeralda didn’t say it meanly, just with finality. “It’s time to move on.”
He shook his head. “Not much more than a year. Not much time at all.”
He always felt apprehensive when his feelings for Stella came up, afraid that he’d give too much away. He opened his mouth to lie, but Esmeralda’s gasp of surprise saved him.
She was staring in obvious amazement as the waitress led Luz Wilkinson to a booth near the back of the small diner. He stared, too. He’d never seen her in a dress before, would never have expected her to wear something so flowery and feminine. He couldn’t pull his gaze away. Her blonde hair shimmered as it tumbled down her back, freed for once from the practical ponytail she always wore. He had the impression that her eyes were bluer than he’d noticed, but he supposed that makeup and the loose hair just made him look longer and more appreciatively at her face—and the rest of her. Where Esmeralda’s dress shrieked femme fatale, Luz’s dress whispered it. The gauzy material drifted around her, moving enticingly around her as she walked. He couldn’t get over this Luz, the one he hadn’t met. And he didn’t know why seeing her here surprised him; it was the only eatery in town. From the startled glances and belated greetings from other diners, though, clearly Esmeralda and he weren’t the only ones taken aback.
Luz settled into the booth, and then she saw them. A slight smile and a nod, and she turned back to the menu.
“Well!” Esmeralda took a sip of wine, then brushed her hair back over her shoulder and straightened in her chair. “Haven’t seen her out in a while.”
“Why is everyone so shocked? There’s nowhere else to go—”
Esmeralda shrugged. “She doesn’t leave the barn very often.”
“Why don’t we ask her over? She seems to be alone—”
“You’re kidding, right?” Esmeralda’s silky voice turned shrill. She a
pparently heard it, because she immediately lowered her tone and spoke just above a whisper.
“We can’t. She’s probably waiting for her boyfriend.”
Aaron glanced over at her booth. “She’s ordering,” he pointed out.
Annoyance tightened her face. “Luz doesn’t have a regular boyfriend.” She seemed to hear the cattiness, and rephrased her words. “That is, her boyfriend lives out of town. He’s a trucker, and even when they make plans, sometimes he doesn’t show up. Maybe she’s ordering for both of them so she can move on to the main course.”
Again, her foot touched his as she winked. “Maybe he’ll show up before we leave,” she purred. “Sort of sad what some women settle for.”
Aaron glanced again at Luz’s table, and then reluctantly turned his attention to Esmeralda. There was no point in encouraging her obvious dislike for Luz Wilkinson. Who could dislike Luz? Yeah, the woman had too many horses. She was aloof and a little unkind—to him. To his daughter—he caught himself halfway into a headshake.
“What’s wrong?” Esmeralda demanded with a quick, red pout.
“Nothing.” Except that my daughter thinks she’s the world. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
• • •
Luz tore her bread into tiny bits and played with her salad. She’d chosen her usual seat, if you could call a chair you sat in two or three times a year “usual.” Too late, she realized that she should probably have chosen the other, turned her back to them, and stared at the wall.
I’m pathetic! She stuffed a forkful of lettuce in her mouth. Esmeralda cast a look at her, then turned back to reach up and touch Aaron’s temple, running her fingers into his hair.
There were all these cute little pictures and sayings on the Internet. Things her friends sent her—the ones who still kept in touch, who didn’t avoid her like the proverbial leper. Many of her colleagues had turned their backs the minute she had been escorted out of her classroom, accused of child endangerment, harm to a child, and criminal negligence—charges no one took lightly in her profession.
Wildflower Redemption Page 2
