18
Amy emerged through the hedge and stopped in her tracks. A stagecoach, a rickety, worn-out stagecoach, harnessed to two striking Saddlebreds, stood on the road. Right outside her driveway.
And Gabe Kendall, a sheepish grin on his face, patted their noses. Almost every memory she had of Gabe included a horse.
Except the one with the arrowhead. Reliving that moment had conjured up other dark memories of grief’s abyss. The night of the memorial service, and for more nights than she could number afterward, hysterical sobs had wracked her body, leaving her spent and empty. In time, she learned to release her pain by emptying her body in other ways.
Only a few minutes ago, before the dark memories could consume her, she had resorted to that same liberating, repulsive tactic. Afterward, she stood and welcomed the familiar dizziness, the sensation of numbness. She rested her hand on her empty stomach, momentarily exhilarated as she pressed toward her spine. But her initial sense of power disappeared as regret washed over her.
As soon as she heard Brett calling for her, she’d gargled with mouthwash. She didn’t dare let him know of her relapse.
Standing beside the stagecoach, Brett waved his arm in a grand gesture. “What do you think?”
“This is the surprise?” Amy asked.
“Don’t be rude.” Taking her elbow, he nudged her forward. “Gabe is taking the stagecoach over to Misty Willow. I thought you might want to go along.”
“In that thing?”
“I bet the view’s better up there.” Brett pointed to the driver’s seat.
She looked from the seat to Gabe.
“This wasn’t my idea,” he said.
“Do you want me to say no?”
He glanced at Brett, then held Amy’s gaze. His hazel eyes seemed to penetrate into the depths of her heart, but she didn’t look away. If he could see into her soul, then he might as well see the darkness hiding there. To know she was in a prison too.
His gaze never wavering, he closed the distance between them. “I want you to be happy.”
The world around them faded away. Even Brett, standing beside her, seemed to be in another dimension. Here, in this moment, only the two of them existed.
She and Gabe.
“How can I be?” she whispered.
“Ride with me.” He held out his hand, steady and strong. A hand that could swing a bale of hay onto a wagon, gentle a skittish mare with a confident touch, strip the thorns from a wild rose and slip its stem into her hair.
She readied herself for the expected jolt and placed her hand in his. Longing charged through her, a longing for the innocence of first love and for the discarded dream of her own happy-ever-after.
“You’re sure about this?” Gabe asked.
She eyed the dilapidated stagecoach, the harnessed horses, then drew in air. A breath of wind whispered be brave, be brave and she gripped his fingers. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
Gabe eased into his slow smile, then supported her as she climbed onto the coach. She did her best to ignore the exhilaration caused by the warmth in his eyes and the pressure of his touch against her back. The feeling persisted even after he turned away to straighten the reins.
“I’ll drive behind you.” Brett jogged toward his car.
“Just don’t rear-end us,” Amy called after him. “And close the gate.”
He waved without looking back and disappeared beyond the hedge.
Amy gingerly settled on the stiff seat. Black duct tape crisscrossed the cracked leather, but tufts of the innards stuck out near the seams. Gabe clambered aboard beside her with the easy motion of someone who drove stagecoaches every day.
“Maybe I should have worn jeans,” Amy said, tugging at a bristly piece of the stuffing that had scratched her bare thigh.
Gabe glanced at her legs with an appreciative grin, and her cheeks immediately warmed. “I’ll wait,” he said. “If you want to change.”
“You’re making me blush.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I never blush.”
His grin widened, and the lines around his eyes furrowed in amusement. “Then I’m not sorry.”
She grinned back at him, her spirits suddenly lighter despite her regrettable setback. The quiet words whispered into her soul: I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful.
The golden sun shone bright in a fluffy-clouded sky. Summer scented the softest breezes with freshness. The afternoon was perfect.
And perhaps, for this moment at least, she could pretend to be perfect too.
Tess cut two of the foot-long subs into manageable portions and arranged them on a tray. “I’m going to take these on out to the kids,” she announced.
“Good idea.” Shelby plopped a handful of napkins onto the tray. “Maybe food will get them to stay off that stagecoach.”
“We’ll be out in a minute with everything else,” Dani said. She stirred the pasta salad, then took a bite. “Yum, that’s good. Even better than Tex-Mex.”
“Save some for the rest of us.” Brett took the spoon away from her. “And no double-dipping.”
“I was going to get a clean one,” Dani protested.
Tess smiled to herself. The newlywed bantering could have been her and Rusty once upon a time. How much she missed him on a day like today.
Gabe’s arrival at Misty Willow had turned the afternoon into an impromptu party as everyone got involved in maneuvering the stagecoach into place. After about forty minutes of good-natured bickering, Gabe and Brett had it positioned “just so” between the grassy oval area and the yard behind the house. Jonah, Elizabeth, and Tabby were given the job of wiping off the dust as high as they could reach while the men spruced up the rest.
Soon after, the Owens family from the neighboring farm stopped by to help with last-minute preparations for Saturday’s Heritage Celebration, and AJ had arrived with subs, sides, and drinks.
Tess called the children as she carried the sandwich platter and a pitcher of lemonade to a picnic table. Jonah and the girls, along with Austin Owens, raced toward her, followed closely by Lila, Elizabeth’s Labrador retriever.
“Here you go, kids.” Tess set down the platter and poured lemonade in glasses to a chorus of thank-yous.
As she handed out the sandwiches, she glanced toward the fence corner. Gabe plucked a marigold from the red wheelbarrow and handed it to Amy. She lifted it to her nose and made a face at the pungent fragrance. He grinned, said something Tess couldn’t hear, and Amy smiled.
Tess squelched her misgivings with contentment, happy because Gabe was happy. Working too many hours in the day, perhaps. Rising each morning much earlier than he needed to. But never complaining. Never too tired of an evening to exercise one of the horses or tinker with that old Ford. As darkness descended, the two of them often sat together on the porch to watch the fireflies and listen to the plaintive cry of a distant whippoorwill. After those long years of confinement, he was finding his place here. With these good people.
At a nearby table, AJ scooped pasta salad onto a plate, his eyes shaded by an OSU baseball cap. Shelby chatted with Cassie Owens, whose palm rested on her swollen abdomen. In a few weeks, Austin wouldn’t be an only child anymore.
Brett and Dani sauntered toward them with a jug of sweet tea, their fingers interlaced. Even Brett had grown into someone Tess was proud to know. Though admittedly it had taken him a while.
More than anything, this was what Tess wanted for Gabe. Friends to break bread with, to work alongside, to count on when things went wrong.
She shifted her gaze back to the red wheelbarrow. Maybe even someone to love. Her thoughts turned into a prayer. Just let it be with the right person.
All the adults pitched in to clean up, but then Gabe realized he and Amy were the only ones left in the house. “Guess I better get going,” he said. “I need to get these horses home before dark.”
“How are you doing that?” she asked.
“Ride one, lead the other.”
“You’re riding?” Amy asked. “Now?”
“I don’t think we can fly.”
She gave him that look, the one he’d come to think of as “Amy Annoyed.” A blistering look to others, maybe, but when she directed it at him, he only felt a perverse hankering to annoy her even more.
“But you’ll miss the s’mores. AJ’s going to start a fire in the stone circle.” Her expression changed to “Amy Coquette.” He had to steel himself against that one. Those pleading blue eyes got to him every time.
“You don’t want to miss that, do you?” she added.
“Don’t have a choice.” He narrowed the space between them and held her gaze. “You could ride with me. I’ll take Abner and you can ride Casper.”
“I left my saddle at home.”
“I brought two.”
She averted her gaze and sucked in her lower lip.
“Why are you so afraid?” he asked softly.
“It’s not fear,” she murmured.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s a pain.” She pressed her fist against her heart. “Here. I can’t do it.”
“We can start with a baby step.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hold Abner’s head while I saddle him. Can you do that?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“My tack is in the boot of the stagecoach.” He took her hand, pleased that she allowed him. Maybe she’d change her mind and ride with him after all. He glanced at her legs and decided not to push it. As good as she looked in shorts and sandals, they weren’t appropriate riding attire.
They walked to the stagecoach, then she carried the bridle and blanket while he hefted the saddle to where the horses were tied to a fence. Though she was hesitant in her approach, she did all the right things. Abner greeted her with a sniff, and she held her hand flat for him to take the apple treat she held for him. Gabe was slipping on the bridle when Jonah joined them.
“Are you going to ride him?” Jonah asked, wonder in his voice.
“Only way to get him home,” Gabe replied.
“Can I go with you?”
“I don’t know about that, buddy.”
“I’m not sure your dad would approve,” Amy said.
“I’ll go ask him.” He pivoted and raced toward the picnic tables.
Gabe and Amy exchanged glances. He saddled Abner, then they joined the others.
“Can the children have a ride before you go?” Tess asked. She turned to the parents. “Abner is as gentle and steady as they come. Gabe can lead, and I’ll walk beside them.”
“I don’t see why not,” AJ said. He grabbed Tabby and lifted her onto his hip. “You want to take a ride on that there horse?”
Tabby eyed Abner and shrank into AJ. “He’s awfully big.”
“But very friendly,” Amy said. “See?” She scratched Abner’s nose. “You try it.”
Tabby still looked doubtful as she placed her hand near Abner. He snuffed and she drew back, then laughed. “That felt funny.”
“Me first,” Jonah said. “It was my idea.”
“I don’t know,” Brett said. “What if—”
“Oh, would you stop it!” Amy blurted. “You heard what Tess said. She’ll be right beside them. And I’ll walk on the other side.”
“I already told you. I can’t let him get hurt.”
“He won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
She glanced at Jonah, whose light blue eyes were begging her to convince his dad to let him do this, and searched her mind for a solution. “What if, instead of being led, Gabe rides with him? Can he at least do that?”
Brett worked his jaw, then sighed heavily. “Okay. But only for a few minutes.”
Amy smiled at Jonah, and he wrapped his arms around her waist in a quick hug. “Thanks, Aunt Amy. Thanks, Daddy.”
She caught Gabe’s eye, and he tipped the brim of his Stetson as he nodded.
“Come on, Jonah,” Tess said. “Up you go.”
Gabe set Jonah on the horse, then swung into the saddle. Amy gave an inward sigh. She could watch Gabe mount his horse over and over again.
After all the children had taken a turn and gone into the house to wash their hands, Gabe walked Abner close to Amy. “Do you want to take a turn?”
More than he knew. But she wasn’t ready. At least not yet. “Maybe another time,” she said lightly.
“Is Brett giving you a ride home?”
“He was, but I think I’m going with AJ instead.”
“I didn’t mean to cause an argument between you. I don’t think Tess did either.”
“Jonah may not be an infant, but Brett is still a new dad. He worries too much.”
“About you too?”
“It’s tiresome.” She stroked Abner’s nose. His animal scent took her to another time, another place, where she’d found contentment and peace riding horseback around the paddock and through the woods with Gabe. She didn’t want to be chained to this trauma anymore, to be paralyzed by the thought of doing what she once loved more than breathing.
Baby steps, Gabe had said. She’d taken the first one, getting this close to Abner, letting him snuffle her neck and her shoulders. But it hadn’t been easy.
In some strange way, her longing for a horse had gotten bound up with her dad never coming back from that plane trip. A trip he wasn’t supposed to have taken in the first place. He’d left Amy to go with Mom even though they were already divorced. It had never made sense. And then she’d lost them. Lost them both. And lost her love for riding too.
The guilt she’d endured for being angry with Dad for not giving her what she wanted most, for leaving her alone, for not coming home again, was twisted with her grief. Sometimes she wondered if it was too late to ever separate them.
She didn’t know if she could take that next baby step. Not even for Gabe.