If Wishes Were Horses

by Barbara Morgenroth

  Gia would love it. That was predictable. She would find it laughable and find me pathetic.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Other than wishing I had never been born, I’m fine,” I replied.

  “Miss Wish, you have to stop wishing so much.”

  “You asked what I wished for at the fountain that day.”

  “Yes and you told me it was none of my business.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. What did you wish for?” Mill asked.

  “I wished for a family.”

  He laughed. “You are really good at wishing! Now you’ve got two!”

  “I wanted my family not this sideshow. I’m a freak.”

  “You’re not, although your father has traveled into the uncharted territory of grimy behavior.”

  “What was the show like after I left?” It was better for me to know.

  “I can tart it up for you if you’d like.”

  “The truth always works for me.”

  “It was like you had never been there. Your father talked about his other family and how wonderful they all were. He talked endlessly about the book and how it’s available in bookstores everywhere and online at Amazon, Kobo, and Apple.”

  “Damn.”

  “He said it so many times I wanted to throw the remote at the television. Is he broke or something that he needs to hawk this book so hard?”

  “He’s made and lost and made plenty of money,” I said.

  “You have to be kidding.”

  “Beachcomber Greg can make as much money as he wants, he just doesn’t want to. It’s monotonous. It’s pedestrian. Money doesn’t love him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He can’t charm or cajole money. It doesn’t care. Only people can fall in love with him and get their hearts broken. Money is a cold girlfriend.”

  There was a pause. “Got it.”

  By the tone of Mill’s voice, I was convinced he did.

  “You’re done with him. It’s over. He’s three thousand miles away. You and your mother have started a new life.”

  “And what a start to it.”

  “It is. Tomorrow morning you’re going riding with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I could never be interested in someone unless they can ride as well I do.”

  “What about Gia?” I asked.

  “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  “Very. Almost as pretty as her horse.”

  “He’s very typey. You would not believe how much he cost.”

  “I would. There are horses like that back in Connecticut.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “What if I’m a better rider than you are?”

  “Not likely,” Mill replied.

  “You’ve never seen me ride but I’ve seen you ride.”

  “I’ve seen me ride, that’s enough.”

  “Are you bringing the trailer? Are you picking up Bij?”

  “No, you’re going to join in the polo team practice. You can ride Gee Whiz. Have you ever played polo before?”

  “No,” I answered truthfully.

  “Scared?”

  “No.”

  “If you don’t kill yourself, we’ll go to a movie tomorrow night.”

  “You are so on, you ego maniac.”

  Mill laughed.

  Being teased by him, hearing him laugh, making light of a bad situation was like being soothed gently in a hammock after staggering out of a commercial washing machine run twice through the heavy cycle.

  Chapter 8

  At eight, I was opening the passenger side door of his pickup truck. I put my duffle bag on the floor and got in.

  “Don’t you have any of those fritter things?”

  I put a paper bag on the seat between us. “No, they’re all gone. I hope you can survive on defrosted muffins.”

  “What kind?”

  “Tomato. My mother was experimenting.”

  Mill groaned.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers, Mill. Be glad I brought anything.”

  “I am. Would you open the bag?” Mill began driving down the road.

  “I hope you don’t expect me to feed you, too.”

  “No, I can do that if you break the thing in half.”

  I laughed.

  “What?”

  “Anything else?”

  “Did you bring milk?”

  “No. Sorry. I don’t run a food cart.”

  “Did you bring your helmet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Why would I be?” I turned to Mill and, fortunately, he kept his eyes on the road so I had time to study him. It could easily be said, I’d ever seen anyone in real life as attractive as he was. There was no one back in Old Newbury who looked like him.

  “We play hard.”

  Was that how he got the small scar on his cheek, by playing hard? “How many other girls have you tested out like this?”

  “None. What do you take me for?” He turned to me, astonished.

  Why was that so outlandish? Anyone who looked like Mill should have been expected to have dated every girl for a hundred miles. “You said you’d want to know if someone could ride before you got interested.”

  “And your problem with that is?”

  I looked at him in surprise. “You’ve never been interested in a girl?”

  “I didn’t say I never went out. Is that so shocking?”

  Well, yes. “I don’t know. Are you interested now?”

  “What was the stated rule?”

  “Some baloney about my passing a riding test first. Geez, I need some rules,” I replied.

  “Like what?”

  I had no idea.

  We drove through the center of town.

  “Waiting.”

  We passed the blasted Geddes fountain. Fortunately, at this hour, no one was surrounding it, chanting and banging on drums.

  “I can’t come up with anything.”

  “That could be a deal-breaker.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone needs rules.”

  Mill turned down the driveway to the polo field and a moment later parked next to another truck and trailer.

  “Do I need to know anything about your horse,” I asked opening my duffle bag and removing my chaps.

  “No.”

  “I would tell you about Bij.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s afraid of white rocks.”

  “Thank you for that heads up. Just what I want to do. Get on a coward.”

  “He’s not a coward. He’s just got a thing for white rocks.”

  “Are you going to get in the trailer and get the horses out?”

  “Yes,” I replied giving the side door a yank and pushing past the hay net. I unclipped Gee Whiz’s tie. “Waiting for you, Polo Boy.”

  With the tail bar down, Mill lowered the ramp and I let Gee Whiz back up at his own pace. He was tied to the trailer while I went back inside for the other horse.

  “Is this your father’s horse?”

  “Yes. That’s Mage.”

  “How long has Soule been playing polo?”

  “Since college.”

  “How long have you been playing?”

  “I started at nine.”

  “Does Emma play?”

  “No. Any more questions?”

  I handed Mill the lead rope. “No.”

  We wrapped their legs and tacked up the horses quickly then Mill gave me a leg up with so much force behind it, I nearly went right over the other side. I settled into his saddle and adjusted the stirrup leathers to a length more appropriate for me.

  “Stop fussing,” Mill said, walking Mage away from the trailer.

  “My legs aren’t as long as yours, if you noticed.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Well then,” I replied, urging Gee Whiz to follow while fixing the second leather.

  “Don’t em
barrass yourself out there. You have to go to this school.”

  “How would I embarrass myself beyond having a bigamist as a father?”

  “You could fall off. You could break a nail. You could start crying.”

  “Too bad your personality doesn’t match your face.”

  He pulled Mage up and waited for me to get alongside him. “What does that mean?”

  “Your personality is nowhere near as attractive as the rest of you.” I urged Gee Whiz into a trot in order to get to the group that had formed on the field. Mill had to hurry to catch up. I smiled.

  Mill halted Mage. “This is Cap Rydell from Connecticut. She’s going to go to school here this fall and says she rides.”

  I was greeted by the other riders.

  “Have you ever played before?” Someone asked.

  “Polo? No,” I replied.

  “Most of us have been on the team for years,” one member said.

  “I’ll try to stay out of your way,” I replied.

  “That’s not the point,” Mill said. “You’re supposed to get out there and drill with us.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  The coach walked up to the group, and after introductions were made, he explained the first drill.

  “If you’re not okay, just pull to the side,” Mill said as we took the field.

  “Is that where I’ll find you when we’re done?” I asked and cantered off to join the others.

  Two hours later, after close-in drills, mallet drills and a couple scrimmages, I was galloping down the pitch when Mill came up alongside me. “My ball. Get out of the way.”

  “You’re in my way!” I swung the mallet and hit the ball.

  “Nice one,” someone called from behind me as I pulled Gee Whiz to a walk and leaned over to pat his neck.

  Coach Teague walked up to me. “You don’t seem like someone who’s never played before, unless you’re a very quick study.”

  Mill was watching and shot me a look.

  “I never played polo,” I replied and gave Mill a look in return. “But we did, informally, play polocrosse. It was just for fun; I never competed.”

  Polocrosse had much in common with polo but as with lacrosse, the ball was caught then carried down the pitch in a net at the end of a stick. It would take some getting accustomed to swinging a mallet.

  “That explains a lot, but you do have a good eye,” Mr. Teague admitted.

  “Thank you.” I was complimented he thought so but figured it was luck I had been able to hit the ball and have it go as far as it did. “I enjoyed playing with you all very much,” I said to the team. “Thank you.”

  “Maybe we’ll see you again,” someone called to me as I rode away.”

  “She’s cute,” someone replied loud enough for me to hear.

  Mill and I reached the trailer without saying a word. I dismounted and unbuckled the girth to give Gee Whiz a little comfort.

  “You want me to take off these wraps?” I asked.

  “I’ll take them off when I get home.”

  “Okay.”

  I slipped the halter over Gee Whiz’s head and removed the halter.

  “So are we on for the movie?”

  “I have no idea. Did I pass the test or not?” It was so fortunate I was turned away from him at that moment because I couldn’t help but grin.

  “It wasn’t a real test.”

  I faced him. “Yes, it was.”

  “If it was, would that be so bad?”

  “No, because that’s pretty much the reason I gave up on my last boyfriend.”

  “Last boyfriend?” Mill said.

  “Yes. Last. Theo Harrow.”

  “With a name like that, did he eat paste when he was in kindergarten?”

  “If he did, he’s not eating it anymore; he’s too busy flirting with all the city girls at the lake.”

  “Is that why you broke up with him?” Mill removed the saddles.

  “No. I moved but then I realized we had nothing in common. We just seemed to be a good couple.”

  “You were a couple?”

  “I guess that’s what it would be called. Why?”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It wasn’t.” I lead Gee Whiz into the trailer and secured him, then went back for Mage. The moment I had his tie fastened, Mill lifted the ramp.

  We got into the truck and Mill headed away from the field.

  “You didn’t answer me about the movie.”

  “Sure, if I’m being invited. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Yes, you’re being invited.”

  “Asked out on a date?”

  “I guess they call them that.”

  “What’s the movie?”

  “Sarge. It’s what’s playing in town.”

  “Sorry, no.”

  Mill stopped at the intersection and turned to me. “What?”

  “Sarge, the movie about the Army remuda horses in World War One?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. Thank you for offering, maybe another time.”

  “You said yes.”

  “Any other movie it would have been yes.”

  “I checked. This one got good reviews.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but I don’t care.”

  “What are you not telling me?”

  “I’m not not telling you something. I’m saying I don’t want to go see this movie.”

  “Why?”

  “What if something bad happens to the horse?”

  “There’s a happy ending. The review said so. Appropriate for children.”

  What a movie critic thought and what a kid could handle were often two different things. As proven by the time my mother wound up dragging me from a theater in tears in the middle of some kid’s movie. They’re always killing the family pet as a plot point.

  “What if he gets shot by a cannon or something? And he’s hurt and there’s that look in his eyes? I’ll never get it out of my mind.”

  Mill looked at me for a long moment then nodded. “Okay. We can go have pizza. Or will you get upset if the pizza is cut?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  He stopped in front of the restaurant and I opened the truck door to get out. A change of clothes was in my bag.

  “Cappy.” Mill put his hand on my arm.

  “Yes?”

  Mill thought about it for a moment and I waited.

  “I’m interested.”

  “So am I. See you later.”

  Chapter 9

  I entered the restaurant and my mother was just coming out of the kitchen area.

  “You’re filthy! Get cleaned up before the lunch crowd shows up.”

  I walked past her and held up my duffle bag with the change of clothes.

  “You stink like a horse.”

  “Horses don’t smell,” I replied heading toward the lavatory.

  “You stepped in manure then.”

  True. There was manure in the trailer.

  “How was the polo practice?”

  “I loved it,” I called back.

  There were footsteps then my mother appeared.

  “Is Mill a good rider?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Heartbreakingly good. You know what they say. It takes a real horseman to get a lot out of a horse without taking a lot out of him. That’s Mill.”

  “Maybe you’ll see him again.”

  “In about six hours.”

  She was surprised. “You’re going on a date?”

  “I think that’s what they’re called.”

  “You like him then?”

  “He’s smart and funny and he listens. What’s not to like?”

  “And he’s cute.”

  “He is but that’s the least of it.”

  That was just a bonus.

  “Let me ask you a question,” I said.

  “Maybe I’ll answer,” my mother replied.

  “Did you say all this stuff about Dad the first time you met him? That he was clever and had a good
sense of humor and was attentive to you?”

  “If I remember correctly, I thought he was obnoxious.”

  I rinsed the soap off my face. “What happened then?”

  “That’s when your father kicks into high gear. He had to win me over.”

  I toweled my face dry. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I don’t know how I would have known that.”

  “You should have trusted your instincts.”

  “Maybe I should have but,” my mother laughed as she walked away. “I think I have a little more life experience than you do. Things don’t always work out as you wish they would. You make decisions based on the best information you have and sometime you make mistakes. That’s how you learn.”

  I wanted to say how much her mistake had cost us but without that mistake, I wouldn’t exist, so it was rather difficult to complain about it. Mill was right. My father was in the past. We had started a new life here in Cadiz and today, it looked promising.

  ***

  After working the lunch shift and helping to clean up, my mother brought me home around four-thirty to take care of Bijou. I got showered and changed then traveled back to town where it had been agreed that Mill would pick me up. Right on time, he showed up wearing, appropriately, a polo shirt, jeans that really fit and boots.

  For some reason, I felt a little shy as Mill entered the restaurant. It seemed like an important event. Momentous. Life-changing even.

  “Hi, Mrs...”

  “Don’t call me that. Laurie is fine. You two could eat here,” she offered.

  “And you’d be watching us,” I replied.

  “I could promise to not watch.”

  “I think we’ll have pizza this time,” Mill said.

  “I’ll get a pizza oven if I can ever afford it,” my mother replied.

  “I won’t hold my breath,” I said as Mill opened the door for me.

  “Pizza Margharita with heirloom tomatoes,” she called after us. “That would work.”

  “She loves your father’s tomatoes,” I said getting in the truck. “She’s using them for everything. She made tomato jam this afternoon.”

  “That sounds awful. Do you put it on toast for breakfast?” Mill was confused.

  “Not if you want tomatoes and onions on your toast and I don’t.”

  Mill was bewildered. “What kind of jam is it then?”

  “The kind you get served in a restaurant like my mother’s and the customers exclaim ‘Ooo, isn’t this lovely’ when they see it on the plate.”