Chapter Twenty-Six
Friday, October 4th, 2:20 p.m.
No cross-country practice today, so I’d go for a run when I got home, but that meant I had time to walk to Dad’s office. I checked out my wonderful Presidential blue Mustang in the lot. No, it wasn’t mine, and it didn’t look like it ever would be unless I could figure out how to get a job to pay for it. And I was sixteen. How would I possibly make it happen?
I glanced toward the office trailer, but it was difficult to see inside from here so I walked across the pavement toward the door. I heard something drop in the service area, so I went to the mechanic’s shop first and spotted Brenna with her head under the hood of the puke green loss leader. “Hi. What’s going on?”
“A tune-up,” Brenna said, flicking me a quick glance. “I’ve been rebuilding the engine. Want to help me make it run?”
I blinked. “Sure, but aren’t you mad at me?”
“For what?” Brenna stepped back to open a little box in her hand. “Being sixteen? Wanting something beautiful? If I didn’t love these cars, do you think I’d have taken over the lot when my grandfather retired?”
She had a point. I shrugged out of my backpack and put it in the corner. “I am going to buy a Mustang from you someday. And I will be back to help you sell these cars to the perfect owners as soon as you hire me.”
“Okay.” She laughed. “Then, we have a deal. Now, tell me about your friend, the one that Harry’s been seeing.”
“I really like Harry,” I said, “but I can’t make him want me the way I want him.”
“No, you can’t,” Brenna agreed, passing me the tiny boxes of spark plugs. “And you’re smart to learn that at sixteen. I didn’t learn it till Afghanistan when I met this dangerous, deadly, devastating Army Ranger and he became everything I ever wanted.”
“What happened?” I ripped open the end of the little carton. She’d been in a combat zone so the question seemed obvious to me. I handed over the spark plug to her. “Did he die?”
“No. We connected, and when I got home I discovered he had a fiancée. For him, I was Ms. Right There. I didn’t know I was just a stopgap until he came home to Ms. Right. It felt like my heart would fall out of my chest at his feet. He’d stomp it into dust, or crush it in his hand the way that witch does on TV.” Brenna checked the gap on the spark plug before she slid it into place, finger tightening it first. “And I was ten years older than you are. I should have been smarter.”
“I think you’re plenty smart,” I told her. “I couldn’t run a place like this. My grandma says that ‘love makes fools of us all,’ and neither of us are stupid.”
“Well, then let’s go with what your grandmother says and believe we’ve both learned and grown a lot.” Brenna forced a smile. “Now, what about the girl?”
“She’s nice,” I said. “Dani looks like a model, but she’s smart and good with animals and keeps her promises. She tries to make other people feel good, too.”
As I talked to Brenna and we worked on the car together, I realized that I was telling the truth. I still liked Dani, and maybe I hadn’t really seen who and what Harry was as a person. I kept seeing him as blond and beautiful, but he was more than a pretty face. He was a human being, and he undoubtedly had baggage of his own. He must. He lived with his older sister, not his parents. Did Dani see the person when I hadn’t?
* * * *
Friday, October 4th, 10:10 p.m.
Bill and Jack were riding high when they came out of the locker room to meet me and Vicky. They should be. Lincoln High had wiped up the field with Lake Gurlock, thirty-two to nothing. Jack made one touchdown and Bill scored two.
“Dinner first.” Jack hugged Vicky and kept his arm around her waist. “Where do you want to eat?”
I smiled at Bill, feeling suddenly shy. “What do you guys like? You won tonight.”
“Italian? Chinese? Mexican?” Bill grinned at me. “What sounds good?”
We discussed restaurants while we headed toward the parking lot and my dad’s car. We opted for a pizza place up in Stewart Falls that Vicky raved about. I hadn’t been there before, but Parthenon Pizza was totally cute in a checkered tablecloth, big candles in wine bottles kind of way. And the pizza was amazing, thick layers of cheese over meat, olives, and peppers on a homemade crust. We took the leftovers with us, squabbling about who would get to keep them.
Bowling was a blast too, girls against the guys, and we won. Jack said that meant we had to buy the popcorn, but Vicky told him that was against the rules. Losers paid, and we would choose the movie. It was ‘chick flick’ time, and he could just suck it up. Lots of whining ensued as he drove to the theater for the midnight show, and I never laughed so much in my life.
We got back to our house a little before three in the morning. Luckily, Bill and Vicky were staying over, so it meant there wouldn’t be a hassle about curfews from their folks. I froze when Jack pulled in the drive. I’d expected a few lights on in the house, but not the ones in the indoor arena. Oh no! Not again. I pushed open my door and was running for the barn before my brother parked the car.
I passed Dr. Larry’s truck and raced in the side door of the building. Mom walked Twaziem around the ring.
“What happened?” I demanded. “Is he all right?”
“Colic.” Mom kept leading Twaz. “It’s a reaction from the wormer, so it’s good that we used a mild one and under-dosed him, rather than going by his actual weight.”
I nodded and went to my horse. He nudged his blazed head into my side, and I hugged him. “Poor baby.”
“Poor us,” Dad told me. “Zeke thought he saw someone around the barn and came to check things out. He found Twaziem in distress so he started walking him. We took over when we got home from the game.”’
“Why didn’t you call us? We’d have come straight here,” I said. “Bill and Vick wouldn’t have minded.”
“That’s why,” Mom said. “You and Jack are uber-responsible kids. So are your friends. Every once in a while, you need to act like teenagers, and we need to remember to let you. If we desperately needed you, we’d have called.”
“And this way you missed cleaning out the gobs of dead worms that caused the impaction,” Dr. Larry added. “Next time, Robin.”
I rubbed Twaziem’s neck. “Is ‘gobs’ a medical description?”
“Considering what was inside him, I’d call it accurate.” Dr. Larry stretched and yawned. “I’m headed home. Call me in the morning, and let me know how he’s doing. I’ll swing by to get you on Sunday, Robin, and check on him then.”
“Okay.” I took the lead line from Mom. “I have him now. I’ll walk him. Has he pooped yet?”
“No. He doesn’t have much in the way of gut sounds either, so keep him moving.”
Mom and Dad headed out of the arena with the vet, just as Bill came inside. Jack and Vicky were right behind him. I glanced at the three of them. “What a way to end a great night. Sorry, guys.”
“Not your fault.” Bill came to walk beside me. “We came up with a plan. You and I will take the shift now and Vick and Jack will take over at seven. Is that all right?”
I stopped and looked up at him. “Are you sure about this? It doesn’t sound like a fun time to me.”
He winked, then reached out to tug my braid. “Any time I spend with you is fun.”
“A-h-h, aren’t you sweet?” I laughed and all my worry about him evaporated. “You know exactly the right thing to say.” Twaziem nudged him, and I cracked up again. “Oops, you’re in trouble. You don’t have any apples for him.”
“Wouldn’t matter if I did.” Bill massaged one of Twaz’s ears. “He can’t have them until he passes gas or manure.”
“Wow, we have fascinating discussions. Horsy poop.”
I started walking Twaziem again and Bill paced me. Jack and Vicky vanished out the barn door in the direction of the house. So, it wasn’t super romantic, I thought. Still, there was something special about a guy who stuck with you when your horse was sick, and who arranged to walk most the night so you could save a life together. Next time Bill teased me, I’d remember his good points.
During the next four hours, I learned more about Bill. He liked sports, which I already knew since he and Jack were on a lot of the same teams. However, he also read a lot. He could quote speeches, poems and what he called ballads, an old kind of story song. He claimed if I came up with a topic, he could deliver an oration on the subject.
“No way,” I said. “You can’t possibly do that.”
“Sure I can. Pick a subject, any subject, and I’ll show you.”
“You’re lying.”
Twaziem snorted agreement and tossed his head. He hadn’t bitten or kicked at Bill once tonight, even if there weren’t any apples.
“Come on.” Bill took my left hand in his. “You know you want to test me.”
“Okay.” I remembered the lecture in my history class that day. “Something about the Revolutionary War, and it can’t be King George’s quote about nothing happening on July 4th.”
“All right.” Bill thought for a moment, then began, “They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?”
“Oh my Gawd.” I stopped walking and stared at him. “Who said that?”
Bill grinned. “Patrick Henry. It’s part of his speech to the Virginia Convention in March of 1775. Want to hear more?”
“You’re amazing. I’d never remember all that.”
“You would if it interested you,” Bill said. “I’ll bet you can tell me every detail about the engine in that Mustang you want.”
“You’re right. Do you want to know the specs?”
Before Bill answered, Twaziem tugged on the rope, and I gave him a quick glance. Was he trying to lie down? Did he want to roll? I couldn’t let him. He’d twist a gut and rupture something. As I watched, he lifted his tail. He cut loose with a long fart, then proceeded to take a giant dump.
Bill and I both laughed. Then, he took a step closer and rested his hands on my shoulders. “If I kiss you, will you turn your man-eating horse on me?”
I caught my breath. “No, but I can’t guarantee he won’t bite you.”
“I’ll take the risk.”
He bent his head and brushed his lips over mine. A whisper soft, sweet kiss. It ended far too soon when Twaz bumped us with his head. He was on a mission for apples.
I touched Bill’s cheek. “Next time without an audience?”
“Yes, but now we know he really likes me.”
The truth slipped out before I could stop it. “So do I.”