by Toni Mari
I inhaled the smell of the perfectly cooked roast and creamy mashed potatoes, heaping a third helping onto my plate. That was another reason to hate college, the lousy food.
My mother’s mouth fell open. “You’re eating like a football player. Don’t you eat well at school?”
My father laughed. “I remember the dining hall food, so I don’t blame you, baby. Load up because you may not see a home-cooked meal again for weeks.”
I scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. “One week, anyway. I’ll be home next week to ride.”
My father rubbed his chin. “This is your future, Jane. You had your fun with the horses, now you need to focus on your education. Your college degree will ensure you get a good job, be successful. I don’t want you coming home every weekend. Once a month should be enough. Heck, I stayed until they kicked us out for Thanksgiving.”
“But, Dad, you don’t understand. I have to ride Windsong. Regionals are coming up and—”
He cut me off, slapping his hand on the table. “I am talking about your real life, your career. I played sports, too. Do you think I became CEO of a global company by worrying about my game scores? Get your mind off the horse and into your books, like it’s supposed to be.”
I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth. “What?”
His voice softened. “It’s time to put the riding aside. Schedule your training for around the holidays. It’s only four years, and then you can ride all you want when you have a real job. No homework then, you know?”
“Jane, I agree with your father,” my mother chimed in, using her best lawyer voice. “It’s time to put the horses aside and concentrate on your studies. This is important, for your future.”
Slowly, I lowered my fork to the plate. I heard their words but they weren’t making any sense. “Are you saying stop riding for four years?” Give up the time I needed with Windsong? Kate and I already had a plan for Regionals, and we had sent my entries in. I was going.
“Not give it up, but stop showing so much. There are a lot of things in college that you may find you like just as much. You won’t know unless you try them out. I want you to cut back on the horse stuff and explore some other school activities.”
I looked back and forth between my parents, Were they serious? “I’m not interested in other activities. Riding is my sport. Besides, I spoke to Michelle from EMA Rescue, like you told me to. I said that I couldn’t take the spokesperson position because of school. So, I gave that up. How can I give up riding, too?” I pushed my plate back, the aroma not smelling so good anymore.
My father was nodding approval. “Good girl. You did the right thing. Pass the salad, please.” He took the bowl that I handed him.
I kicked Cory under the table. “Help me. Say something,” I mouthed silently. He gave a tiny shake of his head, unwilling to challenge my father.
As he picked through the greens, my father went on, oblivious to the effect his words were having. “That’s a start, Jane. Cut back on the riding. Stay at school for the next few weekends, get involved. You won’t regret it. College is your chance to make connections that could last the rest of your life.”
Was that an order or a suggestion? I studied his stern face for a clue. None of this was making sense to me. My father had encouraged my riding and showing throughout high school; now, it seemed that all of a sudden, they were telling me to stop.
He arched his brows. “I’m being a protective, loving, caring, thinking-of-your-future parent, and you’re my beautiful, precious, supersmart, ambitious daughter, who has unlimited potential that I don’t want her to waste in a barn.” His eyes crinkled as he used our favorite pastime of listing as many descriptive adjectives as we could think of to persuade the other in an argument.
Pressing my lips together, I relented, more for the peace of our meal than because I agreed. I rose and took my full plate and Cory’s scraped-clean one to the kitchen.
Cory helped me carry the boxes I had packed and load them in my car. I nodded silently when he asked if we had everything.
Mom hugged me tight, even though my arms hung limply at my side, and said, “I’ll miss you, but call me. I put money in your purse and paid your credit card bill. Let me know if you need more, okay?”
“Drive safe.” Dad gave me a squeeze and then shook Cory’s hand.
I glared at Cory for being so polite, but he didn’t get it. When they went inside, I turned to him.
Cory slid an arm around my shoulders. “I guess there are some road trips in my future because I don’t think I can wait a month to see you.”
“You won’t have to. In fact, this is your lucky day. I’m coming home with you tonight.”
His eyebrows lifted and his arm dropped off my back at my sharp tone. “What?”
Pulling him to me by the belt buckle, I tilted my chin up. “Pretend you’re kissing me goodbye, and then climb in your truck. I’ll follow you home. We need to talk. I can go back to school tomorrow.”
He threw a look toward the house, holding his head up so my lips couldn’t reach his. “That’s lying and that’s not right.”
“Are you saying I’m not welcome at your house?”
His hands covered my tank top and warmed my ribs. “‘Trailer,’ and you’re always welcome, but I don’t think I could lie to your father.”
“It’s not lying. I’m an adult and so are you. What’s the difference between sleeping on your couch or sleeping in my dorm room?”
“Nothing, I guess. I’ll be the one on the couch, though.”
“It will be perfect. I’ll go to the barn early in the morning, ride Windsong, and then make it to school for my classes.” My last class of the day, anyway. I’d get the Statistics notes from Carly. No problem.
Chapter 6
Cory set a glass of iced tea in front of me on the small, wobbly kitchen table in his tiny trailer. I slid my fingers up and down, smearing the moisture droplets on the clear glass. “Why didn’t you speak up at dinner tonight? You know how seriously I take my riding. My dad might have listened to you.”
Cory folded his long legs under the table as he sat, but his knees still banged into mine. “Right, like he would listen to someone who works in a barn. Your dad is really smart. He knows what he’s talking about. He’s done it all.”
I bumped my leg against his. “He hasn’t done everything. He’s never won a World Reining Championship like you did. You could have told him how that improved your character and your life.”
His stony glare had me biting my tongue. “Well, mostly improved your life, if we don’t count losing Jet.” I reached across the table and took his hand.
He turned it up, curling his fingers around mine. “Sometimes I think that was the worst thing that happened to me because, if I never went to France, things might have worked out completely different.”
I sighed. “Different, but not better. You have a title and a reputation that people know about and that establishes you as a trainer. You have a credential.”
He pressed his lips together. “But a college degree is your ticket to anything you want. Only horse people think mine is important. You should at least think about what your father said. Try out some activities at school.”
“Maybe. But I’m not going to stop riding. I have to prepare for Regionals.”
My pen scratched across the paper, and I listened closely to the professor, but what he said made no sense. Since skipping Monday’s class, I hadn’t had a chance to copy the notes from Carly. And not having done any of the reading either, I was completely lost.
I kept writing down everything the monotonous bearded guy rambled on about. My notebook page was full, crammed with partial phrases and extra jottings in the margins. I looked over at Carly’s.
Neat bullet lists were printed in her very legible handwriting. She was going to have to take lessons from me in scribble scrabble if she expected to have any credibility as a veterinarian. Her writing was just too perfect. I glanced at my chicken scratch a
gain and decided to just copy her notes from this lecture as well.
Relieved of the responsibility of taking notes, my mind wandered back to the farm. Right after this class, to Carly’s disappointment, I was heading straight to the barn to ride Windsong. Cory didn’t know it yet, but I was staying at his house again this weekend.
My stomach grumbled. Carly giggled, causing me to laugh, too, and my stomach groaned louder as it shook. Definitely a stop at the coffeehouse on my way off campus was in order.
In no time at all, I was on the highway, sipping a warm cappuccino and munching a zesty panini.
My cell rang, and I poked speaker phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“How are you, sweetie? I just wanted to make sure you were okay on funds.”
“Fine. I don’t have to pay for food, you know? The dining hall is free.”
“Not really free since the cost is included in your tuition, but I’m just used to worrying about you. Are you going out with friends tonight? Just remember to do some studying this weekend.”
“I will, absolutely.” I swerved around a pothole and the car in the lane beside me beeped. Really? I threw the driver a dirty look; I had barely crossed the white line.
“Where are you? It sounds like you’re driving.”
Was that a suspicious tone? I couldn’t tell her I was on the way to the barn. “The mall.” I blurted out and then winced. I just told her I didn’t need any money. “I’m picking up underwear. And socks. I need a pair, a couple pair.”
I bit my lip hard, but she answered trustingly. “Okay, I won’t keep you on the line if you’re driving. Be careful and have a good weekend.”
I slumped in the seat. I was not a good liar. It would be best to avoid conversations unless I had a better story prepared.
One, two, three, four, skip, a flying change. One, two, three, four, change back the other way. Kate barely moved in the saddle, making it look easy when she rode the canter zigzag on Windsong. He lifted his front end as he moved from right to left and back again with a lightness that was breathtaking.
Since I was the one riding him most of the time, I forgot how mesmerizing watching him could be. His long, dainty legs powering him across the ground with graceful, ground-covering strides. His body elastically bending at the change of direction, his muscles rippling under his smooth, sleek black coat. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and I wanted to tell Kate to keep going.
She halted, though, and slid down his side, her feet dangling for a split second before she landed solidly in the glistening sand of the outdoor arena. She unbuckled my helmet and handed it back to me, shaking out her blond ponytail. “You have to give much more on that dominant right rein when you do the flying change back to the left-lead canter,” she instructed me.
I stamped my foot. “I hate my right hand.” I held it up in front of my face and spoke to it as if it were a separate being. “Right Hand, why can’t you stop trying to take over everything? Calm down and listen to what I say.”
Kate smirked.
I brought Windsong to the mounting block, not wanting to twist his back by hauling myself up from the ground. I lifted the leather stirrup straps and lowered the stirrups three holes from where Kate had them buckled for her shorter legs.
I signaled the canter and guided Windsong along the rail. Turning down the quarterline of the arena, I recited the count in my head, except instead of saying Turn my shoulders, I said, Release my right hand.
My hips and seat rocked along with Windsong’s smooth, collected canter, but I kept my shoulders back and slightly rotated to the side. With the lightest touch of my calf, Windsong bounded sideways. I could feel his quicker response as a result of Kate’s gentle but firm corrections. I told myself to relax another degree, trust his response.
I purposefully moved my right fist forward a quarter of an inch toward Windsong’s ears, cocked my shoulders back to the left, and asked for the flying change with my leg. Windsong effortlessly skipped to the left lead and took four strides to the side. Really concentrating, I turned my shoulders, adjusted my hands, and we skipped to the right. I grinned.
One more time and then, whooping, I turned back onto the rail of the arena and let Windsong speed up. I slowed him before he reached the next corner and brought him back to the walk.
“It took all my concentration, but I see what you mean. I will really, really work on that,” I told Kate as I leaned forward, patting the horse’s neck. Windsong shook his head and walked energetically.
I watched his nostrils as we turned the corners, making sure he quickly recovered his breath. He seemed fine, but I figured we should end our lesson on that great note.
“You rode well today. The canter zigzag is coming along,” Kate said from behind her desk in the indoor arena office.
I chewed and swallowed, setting my sandwich down on my lap, before answering. “Thank you. I felt like I understood what you were telling me with my head, but now I have to practice making my right hand understand.”
“You will, I’m sure of it. By the way, I received confirmation that your entry for Regionals was received. I was thinking that you should declare your intention to ride at the U.S. Dressage Finals in Kentucky.” She grinned, sliding her eyebrows up. Her casual tone didn’t match the excitement glittering in her eyes.
Tucking half-chewed turkey in the side of my cheek, I leaned toward her. “Only the top five can be nominated to go, and I’m showing in a whole new division, Intermediate I, which is two levels above the level I rode at the Junior Championships in July. I’ve only performed this freestyle two times.”
“Yes, and you scored really well at the two qualifying shows. And didn’t I just say you had improved? We have a whole month to keep working it out.”
“But this level is so much harder, and it’s an open class, not for juniors. Can I score in the top five in the open classes? I think not.”
“I think so. Besides, declaring doesn’t cost anything and you don’t have to go. But if you don’t declare ahead of time, you can’t go even if you win the division. It’s one form. We’ll fill it out today and send it.” She tossed a sheet of paper across her desk.
My father wouldn’t like this, I thought as I picked up a pen and started filling in the blanks. The chances of me beating the likes of Robert Peterson, a multiple Olympic medal winner, or another professional were slim, so it wouldn’t hurt to send in the declaration. It was just paperwork.
I paused. “We’re having another lesson tomorrow, right?”
Kate laughed. “Absolutely.”
The increased difficulty of this new level and the fact that seasoned professional riders would be competing against me made my chances of placing in the top five pretty slim. But the competitor in me wouldn’t sit back and accept the current odds. As Kate had said, we still had a whole month to train, and I was going to use that time to maximize any chance that I might have.
Chewing my fingernail, I pushed my father’s words way into the back of my mind and considered my schedule. “I can come home right after class on Fridays and leave for school after I ride on Monday mornings, so that will give me four rides per week, including Saturdays and Sundays. Can you ride him once in the middle of the week?”
With a nod, Kate raised her plastic water bottle. “Absolutely.”
“With that schedule, Windsong and I will be so prepared, those pros won’t know what hit them.” Grinning, I signed the bottom of the form with a flourish.
Chapter 7
Kate sure knew how to motivate me. It was still dark as I led a blinking Windsong to the outdoor arena on Monday morning. I mounted and pushed Windsong forward with my legs as I tugged my gloves on. There was a damp chill to the late summer air, reminding me that fall had nearly arrived. The lower temperature for this early-morning workout would be better for Windsong anyway. The heat had seemed to be affecting him more.
I stroked his muscled neck. “What do you think, big boy? You feel like you can win Regionals?” He tossed his head
up and down. Even though it was in response to me shortening the reins, it was enough of an agreement to have me grinning.
After a while, we were both dripping with sweat despite the cool morning, and I loosened the reins so Windsong could relax. The sky was a gorgeous blue, with pink streaks over the trees. A vehicle bumped down the driveway toward the barn and multiple horses greeted their caretaker with hungry whinnies. Windsong’s ears perked up as he watched the car park, and he softly nickered.
“Hungry? I’ll take you in now so you don’t miss your breakfast.”
After rinsing him off, I put Windsong in his stall and went to get his grain and supplements. I left him with his nose slamming the bucket sideways on its hook and chewing noisily.
After an uneventful commute and a tall cappuccino, I tiptoed into the lecture hall and slid in my usual seat next to Carly. The professor didn’t pause but sent me a disapproving look. I tried to look apologetic, but I was too exhilarated from my weekend. With a roll of her eyes, Carly pulled her arm back so I could see her notes. I blew her a kiss and started copying.
Carly breezed into our dorm room and tossed her books onto the bed. “I’m starving. You ready to go get some lunch?”
I slammed my textbook closed. After the third try, I still couldn’t recite the dates of the significant events that led up to the Great Depression. I might as well get some sustenance; maybe food would make my brain function better. “Sure, let me grab my raincoat.”
My schedule on Wednesdays was weird. I had one course first thing in the morning and then one evening course after dinner. The dorm was quiet during the day when most kids were in class, but today because of the rain, it was busier than normal. Rain was as good of an excuse to skip class as any other, and kids took advantage of it. I couldn’t concentrate. Every shout I heard or person who walked past my room snagged my attention.
