If Wishes Were Horses

by Barbara Morgenroth

  “I better not say anything.”

  “I wouldn’t eat at a restaurant like that either unless the food was free.”

  Mill parked the truck on the street and we got out. It was just a short walk to the pizza place.

  “You impressed Coach Teague today,” he said as he got the door for me.

  “Did I impress you?” I asked as we entered the restaurant.

  “I didn’t expect you to gallop down the field on my horse, shoulder to shoulder, to keep me from my shot.” Mill paused. “I think I gave you a hard time and should apologize.

  We sat at a table by the window. I looked at him across from me and thought this was exactly how my life should be. There was nothing to change, nothing to improve upon. If I thought I could attribute it to throwing the coin into the fountain, maybe I should throw a coin in every day.

  “If you really feel it’s something you need to do then I won’t stop you but I don’t agree.”

  “Why?”

  “I like a horse that’s really forward. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  “Maybe.” He was being careful.

  “Back home, I did a lot of riding cross country, because that’s what’s done there. Combined training, yes, that includes dressage. You need a horse that can carry you fearlessly. Whatever you’re faced with, you know he’s going to take you over it or through it without hesitation. It’s not bravado; it’s a realistic confidence. You don’t have time to think, you just go.

  “Some horses aren’t cut out for that kind of event. They’re reluctant. You have to encourage them. They’re not sure of themselves. That kind of horse is dangerous because when you need them, they’re hanging back.”

  Mill looked at me. “Are you comparing me to a horse?”

  I didn’t have to think. “Yes.”

  Mill grinned. “I like it.” He motioned with his hand the way any horseman would. “Forward, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “I thought you said your horse was a coward.”

  “You said that.”

  “What about the white rocks?”

  “Turn his head, distract him.”

  “Well, that figures. You’ve turned my head.”

  “You are so cute.”

  “Do you really think so or are you just trying to get on my good side so I’ll get you on the polo team?”

  “Found me out. Just using you.”

  “Gia tries to use me.”

  “Why? What can you do for her?”

  “I’m kind of a big deal at school.”

  I laughed. “And humble, too! What have you got that Jared Jansen doesn’t?”

  “I’m number three on the polo team.”

  That was a key position and it was a big deal.

  “You’re better looking than he is.”

  “You’re trying butter me up again.”

  “Found me out.”

  “Don’t stop now. I didn’t think I would enjoy being used but you’re making it...” he trailed off then stopped.

  “What were you going to say?”

  “Enjoyable. I don’t want to joke about it.”

  “Okay we won’t joke about it right now. I have a serious question. Answer it and then we’ll joke.”

  “What’s the question?”

  “Probably half the girls at school ride, and you’re not interested in them. What makes me different for you?”

  “That you would ask a question like that.”

  “Fine. Answer it.”

  “If I would compare you to a horse, you’re bold. You’re fearless.”

  “Not always. I have my white rocks, too.”

  “When have you been scared?”

  “I was quite concerned about you for a while.”

  “In what way?”

  “I thought maybe you were serious about someone.”

  “Never have been. My father has taught us to focus on what’s important, not on what looks important. I understand that life is what you put into it.”

  “You were pretty cranky at the fountain.”

  “Ivy seems like a predator. She’s trying to lure my sister away from the real world into a realm of nonsense. When I saw it happening with you, I got angry. Then you went back in for the quarter.”

  “Sentimental value. It was a present from my grandmother.”

  “I was disappointed.”

  “In me? Mill.”

  “There was something that made me want you to be better than that. More substantive, more reliable, more present. Then I watched you all day after hearing about your father, then on the show and realized I had been wrong at the fountain. You were the girl I first thought you were and that we saw life in the same way. I had to call you last night.”

  “So you invented the whole riding test thing to make sure I was what you thought I was. You wanted to see if I’d get my feelings hurt or if I’d get angry or if I’d fall off if you pushed me as we were galloping for that ball.”

  “I did not bump shoulders with you on purpose.”

  “Did so.”

  “No. The whole riding test thing was just a set-up so you could spend a couple hours in my world. See if you like it. See if you like me in it.”

  “I like you in my world. I don’t want a horse that makes life easy, I want one that makes it interesting. Some horses are uncomplicated; you don’t have to figure anything out. Other horses challenge you by making you think, by making you grow. They make you a better rider. They make you a better person. I’m looking for a partner, who’s there for me when the terrain gets tough. When you leave the safety of the riding ring, the outside course isn’t always easy. You need someone who trusts you, someone you can trust. Your life depends upon it, right?”

  “Cappy,” Mill started.

  “Are you Caprice Rydell?” A young woman approached our table and stuck a microphone at me. Slightly behind her was a man with an enormous video camera and a light on it.

  I was stunned. How did they find me here?

  “We’ve been searching for you all day.”

  Greg probably told them where I lived. It was all publicity for the book; even if it was my privacy they were invading. My father had no privacy and didn’t care if he didn’t. He made it easier and easier for me to cut any ties to him I might have had. My father was using me for his own self-aggrandizement, for his own financial gain. It was lower than a slug. The next thing I expected was to see my father leaving a trail of slime behind himself.

  My mother should have divorced him earlier. Right after I was born sounded about right.

  Mill stood, shouldered them out of the way, grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the restaurant.

  They followed us out onto the street as we rushed to the truck.

  “We just have a couple questions to ask! Are you going to forgive your father? Are you going to join him on the book tour? How do you feel about having all those brothers and sisters?”

  Mill opened the truck door and pushed me inside.

  “All those?” I asked him.

  “Don’t say anything.”

  “How many siblings do I have?”

  Mill pushed into the reporter on his way to the driver’s side.

  “How do you like being famous?” She asked sticking the microphone in the open window.

  I hit the toggle and the window went up pinning the mike between the glass and the doorframe.

  Mill put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking space.

  “Hey! That’s my mike,” the reporter shouted at me, trying unsuccessfully to grab for it.

  I took hold of it as I lowered the window then threw it onto the sidewalk.

  “I’ll bet you never thought you’d date a celebrity,” I said as he turned down a side street to avoid the television crew.

  “I knew there had to be a downside to you,” Mill replied.

  Thinking it would offer us a hiding place, we parked behind the restaurant and went in the rear door.

  “Hi. I’m surprise
d to see you,” my mother said barely looking up from the sauté pan she was using.

  “Have the reporters been here yet?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “They will be,” Mill replied.

  She slid the fish onto a plate, spooned the sauce over it and placed a small ramekin of tomato jam next to it. “I’ll be right back.” My mother left to serve the dinner.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked Mill.

  “Who’s this we you’re referring to?”

  “Mill,” I said pitifully.

  “I didn’t sign up for this. I brought you back to your Momma, don’t expect anything else from me.”

  He turned and began walking out the door.

  I picked up one of his father’s tomatoes. “Bailing on me? You will be so sorry.”

  “I already am, Celebrity Girl,” Mill replied turning just as I let the tomato fly.

  He ducked and it hit the wall behind him.

  “Good throw!” Mill cheered as he reached for a large tomato. He weighed it in his hand. “Do you know red’s your color?”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  He grabbed my arm as I tried to bolt past him. In one easy move, he pressed the tomato against my face. Juice began to run down my shirt.

  “What’s going on?” My mother asked returning to the kitchen.

  Mill found a towel hanging on the wall and was about to wipe my face but handed it to me instead. “Clean yourself up before the reporter gets here.”

  “Beast,” I replied.

  “Beastette. You threw first. And next time, stay out of my way, when I’m going for a goal.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but the news crew just pulled up in front of the restaurant,” my mother said.

  I threw some water on my face from the faucet by the large utility sink and toweled myself off.

  “Come on, we’ll boogie,” he said.

  Mill drove the truck up a winding road into the mountains, and parked. Then we walked to a spot at the very edge. There we sat on a rock, no railing, nothing to prevent us from falling and with a view of the entire valley, we watched as the sun began to set.

  Unlimited by trees, or houses, or even the mountains themselves, there was so much sky, so much freedom, I felt that if I stepped off the rock and spread my arms, I would float on the currents of air like the hawk in the distance. As the orange disk reached the horizon, I took Mill’s hand and he squeezed mine in return.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning I stayed home to take care of Bijou and all the housework that hadn’t been done in days. After picking vine ripe vegetables, Mill and Soule went to the farmer’s market in Santa Barbara to sell them. My mother went to the restaurant, where by midmorning she called to say she was surrounded by news vans.

  Why was this such a major story that it required cable channels and networks to stand on the street waiting for something to happen? What was going to happen? Nothing, besides them getting in the way so that the police had to show up and put up a barricade so the customers could get to the door. It wasn’t entirely bad for business, if a blue plate scandal was more appealing that fresh caprese salad composed of Crocker heirloom tomatoes and the local Woodford Dairy mozzarella.

  I wasn’t going to talk to the so-called journalists and neither was my mother. They were like flies to manure, buzzing around anyway.

  After all my work was done, I got on Bij and rode into the hills, trying to clear my head. When I came home, there was a text message from Mill on my phone saying they would be stopping by the restaurant for dinner and one of the waitstaff would pick me up on their way in.

  I took a quick shower and put on my formal jeans—that meant my newest pair, a fresh polo shirt and did a speed polish on my paddock boots just as Jane arrived to drive me to town.

  She talked all the way about my father and all the publicity Cadiz was getting because of his appearance on every blooming talk show in the country. When it wasn’t television he was on the radio. He couldn’t shut up.

  What was so intriguing about a lying, law-breaking bigamist? It wasn’t the first incident where a man had juggled two families at the same time. Wanting to know what made this situation so mesmerizing, I asked her. She said my father was very handsome and had a good personality.

  I didn’t reply. Was this what passed for a good personality now? He lied to me, to us, for most of my life. That was sixteen years.

  Since he had a cute smile, he could get away with it?

  I didn’t understand at all.

  This was like a plural marriage where the women are supposed to be grateful to be with the man under any circumstances. I had seen a movie about polygamy on the Spotlight Channel. They claimed to be happy but looked miserable.

  They looked the way my mother had looked most of the time my father was around. It had only been after the divorce and we had come here that she seemed enthusiastic about her future and enjoyed life.

  I didn’t want my father to ruin what she was creating. I didn’t want him and this stupid book of his to intrude on us.

  He had his own life and his new/old family. Why did he have to drag us into this? It could only be because we were part of the story and if we cooperated, the book would sell. Who wanted to hear about a man who was happily married to one woman? That was the norm. He was totally abnormal—happily married to two women. That made him unique. How did he do it? How did he keep the wives from learning about each other? How did he-wink wink-keep both women satisfied in the marriage?

  I wanted to scream. They weren’t both happy. I hadn’t been happy. I had been happyish at school. I definitely loved Bijou. I wanted to make a career out of working with horses, but my family was a disaster area. That was something I had always felt but couldn’t define. It was impossible not to feel something was very wrong, but the excuse was always that he was working so hard.

  After all, we had a nice house with a barn and I had a good horse. I had riding lessons and clothes. All those things cost money. It seemed reasonable that my father would be spending a lot of hours working.

  Now it didn’t seem reasonable, it made sense.

  He always could make as much money as he wanted, and yes, he worked at it, but how much did Deadman Cay cost? He owned an island, for goodness sake. Did he share that life with us? No.

  Why weren’t we enough for him?

  Jane parked her car behind the restaurant and the moment I set foot inside the door, I didn’t have time to take a break or even sit down. It was nonstop activity. The downside to all the publicity was that we were minor, momentary, celebrities in that part of California. The upside was that it brought in many new patrons who seemed to be pleased with the food and maybe they would keep showing up after the furor was over.

  By the end of the day, the Crockers straggled in with a couple cases of vegetables that went unsold. My mother immediately put those to good use. Before they could get out the door, she suggested they clean up and eat at Bagatelle since going home to cook would be so much work after a hard day. Apparently, my mother didn’t think we were having a hard day even though I had burned myself twice trying to remove fresh bread from the oven.

  I sat down long enough at their table to shovel food into my mouth and then the next wave of customers hit and I was up again.

  If Theo or any of my friends from Old Newbury had seen me, I would have been somewhat embarrassed. In front of Mill, it was just what was expected of us.

  I wanted to do something for him; he looked so tired. But all I could do was serve him first.

  Chapter 11

  Over the next two weeks, other news stories hit the front page and my mother and I weren’t nearly as fascinating as we had been initially. The reporters stopped coming around, getting in the way and Mill worked at the farm continually while I worked at the restaurant.

  Three mornings a week, I attended polo practice with him. I rode Gee Whiz, because Bij was a combined training horse and too large to play against polo poni
es who were smaller and more compact than he was.

  There was the possibility once the school year started, I’d be asked to join the other players on a permanent basis, although I wouldn’t compete on the same team with Mill. I hoped I would be given the opportunity to be included but the problem was I didn’t have a horse and when the matches with other schools began, Mill would want to ride Gee.

  We didn’t get to see each other except on horseback or when I was covered in flour and he was covered in dirt lugging crates of tomatoes into the backroom. We made do by talking on the phone after everything stopped for the day.

  Maybe that was better. We could talk for hours without distractions and we talked about everything—music, movies, books, school, horses and was strawberry ice cream better than peach. No matter what the topic, I didn’t experience a moment or reticence or embarrassment and the truth was the only option. There were times I felt I knew him better than I knew myself.

  ***

  There was a thump on the door and my mother opened it to Mill.

  “Did she forget we have practice?”

  “Your sister phoned to say my father, and I use that term loosely, is appearing on Sunrise LA,” I called from the living room.

  There were bootsteps then Mill entered. “Come on, what do you want to see him for?”

  “Because before the commercial interlude he said there was new news he couldn’t wait to reveal.”

  “Then they made him wait and like a fool you’re waiting.”

  “Mill!”

  “Come on, Caprice, we’re late already.”

  “All right, all right.”

  I followed him through the house, grabbed my bag and waved to my mother.

  “Have a good time, you two.”

  The horses were stamping in the trailer as we got into the truck.

  “What’s up with them?”

  Mill began driving down the road. “The coyotes were yelping all night in the hills so they came down to the barn and haven’t been right since.”

  “I’m sorry I made everyone wait. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “You don’t need to. He’s still your father.”

  “Ugh.”

  “It’s a fact of biology. You can ignore him but you’ll always be his daughter.”