by Jane Josephs
“Ready to go riding?” Nick asked when Alison came back out into the living room. She had knotted her bright pink tee shirt at her waist, leaving an inch of smooth skin showing above a silver belt. How had he missed seeing that at the car? Nick nearly whistled, his gaze raking over her tight jeans. Instead of the black boots she usually wore, her feet were laced into a pair of white canvas all-stars. Nick grinned. He’d have to make sure she didn’t step in a pile of horse poop. Or distract him so much that he did. “Let’s go.” He took Alison’s hand. “Later, Ma.”
“Thanks again, Ginny, for letting me stay tonight. We’ll see you later.”
“We’re glad to have you, honey. Have fun.”
Falling in beside Nick, Alison walked with him down the path to the barn.
“I’ve got the horses saddled. I thought we’d start out in the ring, then go up to the woods for a while.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and grinned. “More private there.”
~ ~ ~
“Wow! Dotty looks ready to have this foal at any minute.” Alison hung over Dotty’s stall door, admiring the black mare’s big belly. Over her shoulder she grinned at Nick, doing her best to put on a happy face and block out all thoughts of Emma’s dilemma, at least for a little while.
Nick crossed the barn to Dotty’s stall door, his hand coming to rest on the small of Alison’s back. “Yeah, we think three or four more weeks at most. It’s been four years since we’ve had a foal around here. Sam was the last.”
“How old are the other horses?” Alison asked. Her stomach ached, the need to talk to Nick paramount in her mind. But not yet. How would he react?
“Lucy’s the oldest. She’s twelve. Max is eight and Mae is six.”
“You left out Dotty. Is this her first foal?”
“No, Dotty is seven. This is her second foal. Dad sold his first horse, Rusty, to buy Dotty a couple of years ago.”
“Let me guess. Rusty was red.”
“Sorrel color, technically, but yeah, he was red. Mane and tail, too.”
“Why’d your dad sell him?”
“The price was right. And Dad knew he wanted another mare he could breed. He died before it happened. But he had a contract in place that I felt I should honor.” He stroked Dotty’s face with one hand, pulled a carrot out of his pocket with the other, and fed it to her. “I’m looking forward to welcoming this little one into our stable.”
Something about Nick’s expression made her want to cry. “You miss your dad, don’t you?”
“Every day.” Nick turned away. “Let’s get the horses, okay?”
Alison turned too, and walked to Mae. “Hello, Misty Mae.” Putting her foot in the stirrup she mounted the horse, took hold of the reins, and followed Nick out to the riding ring.
~ ~ ~
Half an hour later, Nick had had all he could take. The emerald horseshoe necklace felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted to get to it. To take the next step. To tell Alison how he felt about her. What he hoped for them. She had come to church with him, twice. She wanted to be part of their Easter traditions tomorrow. That meant she was at least interested in Christianity, didn’t it? Nick blew out a calming breath and pulled up Sam to watch Alison canter around the riding ring. Within minutes, she trotted over to join him. “Let’s walk the horses up to the campfire ring. What do you say?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Nick chuckled and turned Sam toward the field and the woods beyond. “If you want, I could build a campfire later tonight after dinner. Ma bought marshmallows.” He fell in beside Alison, walking his horse at a slow, easy pace across the field.
“What about graham crackers and chocolate bars?”
“Don’t tell me you eat s’mores.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” She laughed. “Actually, you’re right. I want to eat them. But after two bites, I feel sort-of sick.”
“If you keep eating, then you don’t care how sick you feel.”
Alison shook her head. “And you know this how?
“Experience. Lots of it.”
“I don’t believe you. You do paleo, eat healthy food. Work out, get plenty of sleep. Where do s’mores fit in that regimen? Well, I guess you do eat junk on Saturday when I come over.”
“I wouldn’t call it junk, and I don’t want to disappoint Ma, you know? Food is her love language. She feels loved when I eat her cookies.”
“What do you mean food is her love language?”
“You have to talk to Richie. He’s got some book about...” He laughed. “Never mind. Ask Richie. Food isn’t actually a love language. It’s just Ma’s way of serving others. I eat anything I want when you come over because Saturday’s my cheat day, usually. Sometimes I even like to roast marshmallows and have s’mores. Like tonight. If you agree.”
“Okay, deal. Maybe we can work together on those s’mores. I’ll take two bites and you finish the rest. What do you say?”
Nick shrugged. “It might work. If I haven’t had too many hot dogs first.”
“You’re joking, right? I don’t eat hot dogs. Unless I’m at Petco Park.”
“Even if it’s a Reid family tradition the night before Easter Sunday?”
“Is it?” She stared at Nick. “Tell me you’re joking.”
Nick licked his lips, his eyes twinkling. “No, I’m serious. It’s a tradition.”
Alison leaned over and punched him in the arm for teasing her as they rode into the shady woods.
The wind rustled the leaves overhead. Except for a few chattering birds the woods were quiet. A short distance in, Nick stopped at the campfire site. In the center of the fire pit, he’d built a teepee of twigs, ready to be ignited. A distance away, three thick logs, each stripped of its bark and weathered to a warm gray, circled the pit. Nick reined Sam over to a tree across from the site. “Let’s tie up the horses here and sit for a while.”
Alison dismounted, tied up Mae beside Sam, and took off her riding helmet. “I need to walk a little first.”
“Sure. You want to walk over to the archery range?” Nick studied Alison’s face. Where before she’d been open and relaxed, she now seemed tense and ill at ease. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. Let’s shoot some arrows.” Leaving her helmet on a log, she stuck her hands in her back pockets and joined him, walking briskly into the woods on the narrow path to the archery range. “I can’t believe I forgot to bring my phone with me. I left it in my purse.”
“Do you need to call someone? You can use mine.” He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and handed it to her.
Alison stopped walking and took his phone. “What’s your password?”
“It’s NICK, 6425.” It seemed the most normal thing in the world to share it with her. He grinned. “What’s yours?”
Her head snapped up. She stared at him for several seconds. Blinked several times as if she was debating whether to trust him. “It’s “KATE.”
“After your grandmother.” His heart ached for her.
“Yes.” She handed his phone back. “I don’t want to call her.”
“Are you talking about Emma?”
“Yes. I . . . Never mind.”
Alison pushed her hair behind her ear and turned to go back the way they had come, walking at a brisk pace. Nick turned, too, and caught up with her.
“You don’t want to shoot arrows anymore?” Nick’s gut clenched. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t going the way he envisioned it would. Alison seemed restless and uneasy, her stride more of a power walk than the easy stroll he thought they would take. Why didn’t she want to check on Emma? Didn’t she care that the girl wasn’t feeling well? He remembered the way she had clung to him when she first got out of the car. He’d enjoyed it at the time. Now, he
wasn’t so certain he should have. Was something wrong? Had something happened?
At the campfire, she stopped next to the teepee of twigs and gathered her hair up in a ponytail, playing with it without looking at him. He walked to her side but didn’t touch her. In his head, a faint alarm sounded at how distant she seemed. Don’t be a coward, man. He slid his hand into his front pocket and wrapped it around the bag holding the emerald horseshoe necklace. “Alison . . .”
She turned on him, dropping her hands. “She’s pregnant. I just found out this morning.”
Nick stepped back as Alison brushed past him. She stopped six feet away and turned, her breath coming in gasps.
“I’ve scheduled an abortion for her on Tuesday.”
“No!” Nick’s fists clenched. His heart raced. How could this be happening to him again?
Alison’s chin came up. “Yes. I’ve got to get her away from this Travis guy. He’s brainwashed her.”
“There are other options. She can give the baby up for adoption.”
“That means she’d have to carry it first. Nine months out of her life. No. I called and made the appointment this morning. It’s settled.”
“No, it’s not.” Nick hung on to his temper, but inside the tape was playing, the one that reminded him of Carrie’s betrayal. “You can’t just kill it. It’s a child.” Inside his body, his adrenaline was pumping hard and fast, panic at the stubborn look in Alison’s eyes and her tone of voice making him want to shake her. How could she even consider aborting Emma’s baby?
“It’s not a child yet. Just some tissue that may or may not become a person.”
Nick forced himself to stay calm. Maybe he could help her see reason. “Did she take a pregnancy test?”
“Of course. I went right out and got one after I found her throwing up this morning.”
“And it confirmed that she’s pregnant?”
“Oh, good grief! Of course it confirmed it. Would I say she was pregnant otherwise?”
“Well, if that test confirmed it, how can you say it only may be a child? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s not a child!” Alison’s fists clenched. “Look, Nick, Emma’s little more than a child herself.”
“She’s old enough to have sex.”
“Because this Travis jerk couldn’t keep his hands off her. I told her not to have sex with him. Or, if she did, to make him use a condom. I’ve talked to her dozens of times. She doesn’t listen.” Alison looked away. “It’s her body, her choice. And she’s choosing to get rid of it.”
“What about Travis? Does he know?”
“How should I know? He took Emma’s money and every piece of clothing I bought her that was worth anything and lit out. She hasn’t heard from him as far as I know. He’s long gone, I’m sure. I want him gone.”
Nick erupted. “He’s the father! It’s only right that he knows she’s pregnant. The least Emma could do is tell him.” Nick paced away, his thoughts crashing in on him. The situation was nothing like his own had been with Carrie, and yet, he couldn’t see it any other way. The woman he thought he loved was willing to abort a child without any thought of what the child’s father might want. It was happening all over again. And once again he was helpless to stop it. How had he been so stupid, so careless with his feelings? He strode to within two feet of Alison. “How can you leave him out of this?”
“Easy. He’s a jerk. He doesn’t need to know. And I’m certainly not going to try to find him. I forbid Emma to call him when I dropped her off at her apartment this morning. In fact, I took away her phone.”
“As if that’s going to stop her. Why didn’t you let her stay at your place?”
“Oh, right. Leave her on her own. She’d let Travis into my place in a heartbeat. And he’d like nothing better, I’m sure. The guy has no problem with stealing, I tell you.”
“And you have no problem with murder.”
Alison’s face went white and she fell back a step as if she’d been hit. “What!? I can’t believe you said that. Abortion is not murder. It’s legal, and plenty of women have had one or two abortions and got on with their lives just fine.”
Nick’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest. Was Alison saying she’d had an abortion? Something in his face must have given away his disgust . . .
“No. God, no. Not me. I haven’t. I wouldn’t.” She paced away and back again.
Nick’s fists clenched, his voice a growl. “But you’d encourage Emma to have one.”
Alison flung out her arms, her voice shaking. “This is getting us nowhere. I’m sorry I told you. It’s settled. Emma is too young to have her life ruined by this. She’s a child; she has her whole life ahead of her. I’ve worked too hard to help her make something of her life to have her throw it all away.”
Rage flooded through Nick. “So, this isn’t about Emma, after all, is it? This is really just about you.”
Alison’s face suffused with color. “What?!”
A deadly calmness coursed through Nick’s body, burying his hurt and disappointment at what he was hearing from Alison. He had his answer. His voice soft and low, he explained, “I’ve made a mistake, Alison, thinking you might be the woman God wanted for me. You’re not.” He looked over at the horses. “I think you best take Mae back to the barn now, get in your car and go home. You’re not really welcome here at the ranch anymore.” He shoved her riding helmet into her hands, turned, and walked away.
Chapter 21
A groan lodged in Alison’s throat and froze there as she watched Nick walk away. Remorse assailed her. Why hadn’t she kept quiet about Emma? Kept their decision about the abortion to herself? The look of revulsion in Nick’s eyes had been unmistakable. Whatever affection he had felt for her had vanished. He wanted her gone. Out of his sight. Not welcome . . . not welcome.
Mae snorted, breaking the silence. Alison startled, the paralyzing numbness that had gripped her falling away. She turned, automatically putting the helmet on her head and securing the strap as she ran to Mae. Not welcome here . . . not the woman . . . I’ve made a mistake.
Her face flaming with embarrassment and shame, she unwrapped the reins from the tree where she’d tied them and mounted Mae. Her heart hurt so much she could barely breath. Clicking her tongue, she urged the mare into a trot, then a canter, fleeing from the anger and disgust in Nick’s eyes. In seconds, Mae’s stride quickened to a full out gallop. Panic gripped Alison as she hung onto the saddle horn with one hand and jerked back hard on the reins with the other. Instead of responding to the pull of the bit against her tender mouth, Mae stretched out her neck and raced across the field, heading for the barn. Then, in a flash, she bucked violently, sending Alison hurling into the air. Pain shot through her ankle as her foot was wrenched from the stirrup. A startled scream was all she could manage before she crashed to the ground and the world went black.
~ ~ ~
Nick rounded the oak tree leading to the archery range, his thoughts in turmoil. Adrenaline still pumped hard and fast through his system, fueling his anger and disbelief at Alison’s attitude and actions. He was right to say what he’d said to her, wasn’t he? Had to cut off any avenue for a relationship. Any chance of reconciliation. So what if I wounded her with my accusations? “She deserved it,” he spat out, his pace slowing.
Nick ran both hands over his face and into his hair, the ache in his heart so intense he thought he might throw up. He looked up through the canopy of leaves to the brilliant blue sky. Why Lord, why? The day before Easter, and all his hopes for a meaningful relationship with Alison shattered. Would she ignore his command to get in her car and leave? Or . . . when he took Sam back to the barn, would he find Mae in the paddock and Alison having cookies with Ma? Oh, God, please.
Nick turned and ran back to the campfire, determined to stop her from le
aving. To keep trying to make her understand. He pulled up short. She was gone. Sam stood tied in the copse of trees alone. Nick bent over, putting his hands on his knees. Could he catch her?
A faint scream pierced the air. “What the . . .”
Alarmed, Nick sprinted to Sam, grabbed the reins, and jumped into the saddle. He cantered out of the woods in time to see Mae almost to the paddock, rider-less. A dot of bright pink lay on the ground a couple hundred feet from the barn. “Alison!” he shouted, kicking Sam into a gallop.
She lay still, too still. Nick jumped off Sam even before the horse had stopped and ran to her. “Alison!” Leaning over her, he checked to make sure she was breathing, that her airway wasn’t constricted. “Alison!” She moaned softly, and her eyes fluttered open.
“You’re going to be okay,” Nick said, trying to assess her injuries and comfort her. “Can you sit up?”
“Okay,” she whimpered, and tried to push herself up using her left arm. Instead, she screamed in pain, crumbled back down and lay crying.
Nick’s gut twisted. “Easy, babe. Easy. You’ve probably broken your collarbone. Hold on. Let me help you.” As gently as he could, Nick lifted and turned her so that she could sit up. She cried out in pain and shut her eyes. “You’ve probably got a concussion,” he murmured. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, babe, So sorry. What else hurts?”
“My ankle.” She hung her head and grimaced.
Nick pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed for help. He spoke into the phone, giving the address of the ranch and instructions to come into the back field. Finished with the dispatcher, he called the house. “Pick up, Ma. Pick up,” he murmured.