by Lynn Viehl
My mare seemed impatient, and nudged my back a few times while I finished spreading out the fresh straw.
“Stop tempting me,” I told her, knowing she wanted to go for a ride. “I’m trying not to think about that, much less do it.”
I saw something white sticking up behind one of the boards at the back of the stall and took off my work gloves to pull it out. It was an envelope, and I wondered if it was some mail Trick had picked up and then stuck there while he was working on the stall. But Sali’s stall didn’t need any repairs, and I usually did everything else for her. I opened the envelope.
There was something inside, and it wasn’t a bill.
I knew my horse wasn’t leaving notes for me, and my brothers wouldn’t bother. I took out a square piece of stiff, semi-transparent paper with dark, bold writing on it.
Meet me tonight by the moonflowers.
“Cat?”
Quickly I stuffed the note back in the envelope and shoved it into my back pocket before I came out of the stall. “Over here.”
Trick walked in with a sack of feed balanced on each shoulder, which he carried over to the plastic bins where we stored it. “Have you seen my cutter?”
I glanced around and spotted it sitting on the work bench. “Got it.” I brought it to him, and he dropped the sacks by the bin.
“Thanks.” He cut open the end of one sack and emptied the feed into the bin, which was almost full. It had been nearly empty the day before, so he must have been emptying sacks into it all day. “You’ve got straw in your hair.” He glanced past me. “You haven’t been up in the hayloft, have you?”
Since there was nothing up in the hayloft except hay, it surprised me that he would ask that. “No, I’ve just been working in Sali’s stall.” I glanced inside the bin, which was close to overflowing now. “Do we need all this feed?”
“We will next week,” he said. “The vet didn’t find any trouble with those mares, so I’m going to buy them. I’ll need you and Gray to help me bring them over on Saturday. Did I tell you one of them is an Arabian?”
I listened as he described our new horses, and tried not to move too much. Every time I did the note in my pocket crackled a little.
What had Jesse written the note on, parchment? When had he written it? Why? He’d been smart enough not to write my name on it or sign it, but he’d still taken a big risk leaving it in Sali’s stall for me. If one of my brothers had found it, they wouldn’t think it had been left for them.
Trick was saying something and I shook my head a little. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, leave your boots by the door outside and I’ll clean them for you.” He closed the bin and latched it.
If he was working in the barn tonight I’d never get away to meet Jesse. “You aren’t going to stay up all night again, I hope. You know you’ll feel terrible in the morning.”
He shook his head and rubbed one shoulder. “I’m too sore for that. I’ll do all the boots tomorrow.” He sniffed. “Be sure to shower before you go to bed. Not to be crude, but you smell like Sali’s rear end.”
“Thanks.” I tried not to rush until I was out of sight, and then I ran to the house and up the stairs to my room, where I took out the note and tucked it under my mattress next to Mom’s letters.
I spent extra time in the shower so I could scrub away the dirt and sweat from working in the barn and wash the smell out of my hair. After I dried off I changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, and covered them with my robe. I had to use the blow dryer on my hair, but that made it a little smoother than it usually was.
I was too nervous to sit down, but I did shut off the lights so my brothers would think I was asleep. Then while I waited to hear them going to bed I had to torture myself by wondering why Jesse wanted me to meet him.
Had he changed his mind? Why hadn’t he tried to call me first? Our number wouldn’t be listed in the local phone book yet, I remembered, and Trick might have even had it unlisted. He couldn’t have mailed me a letter without his parents finding out, and despite what he’d said about them I had the feeling they didn’t know about us.
Us.
Not counting my weird dream, this would be only the third time we’d met, and I was already thinking about me and Jesse as a couple. And I didn’t care. He’d left a note for me. In our barn. Exactly where he knew I’d find it.
But when had he left the note? What if I’d found it too late? What if he’d been waiting for me last night, or the night before that, and when I didn’t show had given up on me?
I couldn’t stand waiting another second; I had to get out of the house. Instead of trying to sneak downstairs, I opened my window and looked at the pine tree. The branches seemed sturdy enough to hold my weight, but if they didn’t, it was a long way to the ground.
Calm settled over me. I can do this.
I took off my robe and draped it on the end of my bed like I always did. After I put one of my pillows under the covers, I scrunched them up around it so it looked like I was huddled under them. Then I went and climbed onto the windowsill, and reached out for the thickest branch.
“Don’t break,” I whispered just before I swung out and grabbed the branch with my other hand. I heard the wood creak and felt the branch dip and swung my legs over to the trunk. I found footholds on some lower branches and went hand over hand until I could get my arms around the trunk. I stopped for minute, my whole body trembling, before I looked down and saw the next branch I could grab and step down to.
“Next time,” I promised myself, “I’m going to wait and use the door.”
The trees held me until I had climbed down halfway, but from there the branches looked too thin to support my weight. It was a ten-foot jump to the ground, too far for me to make it without hurting myself, or so I thought until I heard a rushing sound in my ears and without thinking let go of the branch I was holding.
I plummeted straight down and landed on my feet. Quickly I bent my knees to keep from toppling over, and waited to feel horrible pains shoot up my legs, but nothing happened. I slowly straightened, and wanted to laugh out loud at how easy it had been. As if I dropped ten feet on a daily basis.
I heard a little yowl and stepped into the shadow of the house, only to see Soul Patch padding up to me. He rubbed his head against my calf and meowed plaintively before scampering off into the back yard. Princess and Terrible appeared and did the exact same thing. I didn’t move until a pure white cat I recognized came and purred while he batted my leg with its paw.
“I don’t know what they told you, but I don’t feed the homeless in the middle of the night,” I said. The white cat yawned before he took off around the corner. I followed him into the backyard, and saw dozens of cats gathered just outside the porch. “Oh, no. Come on, you guys.”
“Don’t be angry with them,” someone said. “They’ve been waiting with me.”
I peered in the direction of the voice, which seemed to be coming from the trees at the back of the yard. “Jesse?” I looked back at the house before I walked toward the trees. “Is that you?”
He stepped out from behind the trunk of a big maple. “I’m here.” He held out his hand.
As I walked over the strays came after me, escorting me like furry bodyguards, but when I reached Jesse they dispersed, taking off in different directions. “Your note said to meet you by the moonflowers.”
“I wasn’t sure if you would find the note,” he said as I came to him and took his hand. “When I saw you leave the barn earlier, I thought you might have missed it. My plan was to wait until all the lights went out and throw some pebbles at your window.”
“They only do that in movies.” He was leading me past the trees and into the training pasture where Trick worked with the horses. “Where are we going?”
“I left Prince over there.” He stopped and looked down at me. “Would you like to take a ride with me?”
“I was planning to,” I said, and pointed to the barn, “but my horse i
s that way.” I started to let go of his hand.
He held onto me. “Prince will carry us both.”
Oh. He wanted me to take a ride with him. “You’re not going to jump any fences, are you?”
“No fences.” He brought me to Prince and after untying him, handed me the reins. Then he mounted the stallion with one impossibly fluid movement, and held out his hand to me again.
I eyed the back of his saddle. There was enough room for me, but it was too high up. “I’m going to need a step-up.”
His hand didn’t waver. “I won’t let you fall.”
I reached up, and a moment after my fingers met his I was straddling Prince’s broad back. Flustered by how easily Jesse had boosted me up, I braced a hand against his shoulder and situated my legs. Fortunately we were both slim through the hips, and fit the saddle as if it had been made for us to ride together.
When I took my hand down, Jesse reached back and caught it, drawing my arm around his waist. “Are you ready?”
No. “Yes.”
I felt him shift the reins and murmur something, and Prince wheeled around. Then the stallion began to trot along the fence to a gate that stood open.
I wanted to press my cheek against Jesse’s back, and hug him with my arm, I felt so relieved. He’d waited for me. He’d come to the house to toss pebbles at my window.
Now all I needed to know the reason for this. “Why did you come back?”
He glanced over his shoulder as he guided Prince through the gate. “You won’t believe it.”
“Try me.”
“I’ve been dreaming of you.” He looked ahead. “I never dream.”
I was glad he wasn’t looking at my face so he wouldn’t see my goofy grin. “Jesse, everyone dreams. They don’t always remember it, but it’s part of the wiring.”
“I did once, but not anymore. Not since I was … I was a boy.” He walked Prince across the drive and down to the slope dividing our property from the road. “I thought if I saw you the dreams would stop.”
“Oh.” I drew back a little. “So this is some kind of sleep disorder therapy.”
“No, Catlyn. I wanted to see you again.” He sounded a little baffled now. “I didn’t know how much until you came out tonight. Life has been very difficult for me. Very complicated.”
I understood that only too well. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He squeezed my hand. “Seeing you makes me remember what matters.”
I had to know. “What’s that?”
“I’m going to show you.”
Thirteen
Once we left the farm and crossed the road, Jesse guided Prince through a dense section of trees to an old, secluded riding trail. I’d never realized it was there, but it was pretty well-hidden from view. Judging by the overgrown brush and low-hanging branches it hadn’t been used for years.
I assumed he was going to head east, down toward an strip of undeveloped land where occasionally I’d seen other people riding, but instead he turned Prince toward the property next to ours.
“Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” I asked as Prince passed through a gap in another fence, this one covered in a thick layer of fragrant honeysuckle vines.
“I want it to be a surprise,” he told me. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”
“You keep saying it,” I teased. “Is it a place, or a thing? Please say it’s a brand-new car.”
“It is not a car.” Jesse looked back at me. “Do you want a car?”
I kept forgetting how rich he was. “Thanks, but I think that would be a little hard to explain to my brothers.” Now I was curious. “Do you have a car?”
He shook his head. “My parents think they’re too dangerous. We have a chauffeur and limousine for whenever we leave the island. Our housekeeper and estate manager also keep cars at the dock.”
I tried to imagine what it must be like, living with servants and having private cars. He probably never had to do things like clean the bathrooms or fold laundry. “It must be great to have other people do all the work.”
“I appreciate their efforts, but I would rather do things myself.” He hesitated. “Are you going to learn how to drive?”
“Trick let me drive Gray’s truck a few times around the farm during the summer while I was helping him with the fencing, so I already know how. I just need to get my learner’s permit to be legal. My older brother promised I could, if I get good grades this semester.” I saw lights flickering ahead of us, and frowned. “What’s that?”
“My surprise.”
As Prince reached the end of the trail the trees on either side thinned out and the ground became paved with cobblestones. They surrounded a two-story white house, but it wasn’t a farmhouse like ours. I knew that the moment I saw the square-sided tower rising to the side of the low, rounded stone stairs leading up to the front door.
Glowing lights in the windows showed off short, scrolled wrought iron bars surrounding little terraces outside the long, narrow windows on the second floor. The glass in the windows had a crackled texture that caught the glow from inside and turned it into golden cobwebs of light. I saw some funny stone carvings here and there that resembled the heads of different wild animals. This wasn’t a country house; it was a country mansion.
“What is this place?” I asked him.
“It’s called Conac Ravenov,” Jesse said as he tugged Prince to a stop. “It’s my family’s ancestral home.”
“You have another mansion?” I asked blankly. “In the middle of the woods?”
He chuckled as he swung off Prince and reached up to whisk me down. “It’s not really a mansion. It’s too small.”
“Small.” I was pretty sure our entire farmhouse might fit comfortably into one corner on the ground floor. “Right.” I glanced up at him. “Do you live here?”
“Not since my parents bought the island.” He took my hand. “Come inside.”
The terraced steps leading up to the front door had once been soft white stone, but now were cracked and grimy with layers of dirt and dead leaves. The front doors, two immense panels of dark, carved wood, had old-fashioned brass handles instead of knobs, and their hinges creaked badly as Jesse pulled them open.
I peered inside and saw filmy, ragged curtains of dusty cobwebs and candlelight. “This place already looks haunted. It would be great for a Halloween party.” I expected to see rats or beetles scurrying around the floor, but there was no sign of any critters. “Is it okay if we go inside?”
“Of course.” He sounded amused. “It is my house.”
“You mean it’s your parents’ house,” I said as I walked into the wide entry hall.
“No, it belongs to me.” He pointed to the right. “So does the land.”
“But you’re just a kid. You can’t own things yet.” Sometimes I thought about what sort of apartment I’d get when I went to college, but the thought of having a house was only a distant, vague thing I wouldn’t have to worry about until I was a lot older. “Can you?”
“I don’t think anyone has ever asked that question. Including me.” He opened another door. “Someday I want to live here.”
“So we’ll be neighbors.” I ducked under the bottom of an old orb spider’s web. “I’ll come over whenever we need a cup of sugar.” I glanced down at the floor, which was thick with dust. “Maybe I’ll bring the vacuum.”
There wasn’t any furniture to speak of; by one wall I saw a couple of old straight-backed chairs with fancy tapestry seat cushions that looked as if they’d fall to pieces if anyone sat on them. Between them was an old trunk with brass fittings caked with rust. But framed pictures cover the walls, including one gigantic painting hanging over the stone mantel of a dark fireplace.
“Stay here.” Jesse went over and picked up something from the floor, and lit it with a match. The flame inside the storm lamp sputtered for a moment before he turned up the wick and set it on the mantel.
The lamp illuminated the hanging pictur
es, all of which were colorful old circus banners. They were all written in different languages, and illustrated with images of smiling clowns, beautiful women in spangled costumes and bare-chested men lifting weights. In at least half of them I saw the Ravenov trick riders performing on their white horses.
I walked up to one and saw from the visible brushstrokes that they were canvas paintings, not printed pictures as I’d assumed. I grinned as I turned around. “These are incredible. How old are they?”
“Very old.” He sounded wry as he shook out a faded quilt and spread it on the floor.
I glanced at the quilt and then at him. Under the circumstances—me and Jesse alone in an empty house in the middle of the night—I should have felt a little alarmed, but oddly enough I didn’t. “Are we camping out here?”
“Perhaps another time.” He produced a big wicker hamper and set it in the middle of the quilt. “Tonight we are having a midnight feast.”
He opened the basket and began unloading it, placing cups, covered plates and stacks of small containers on the blanket.
“You brought a picnic.” I inspected the feast he unpacked, which consisted of three loaves of French bread, five packages of sliced meats and cheeses, a dozen containers of fresh veggies and fruit, and a huge tin of homemade cookies and brownies. He even pulled out two slices of cake on little plates covered with plastic wrap. “Where did you get all this stuff? Did you knock over a deli?”
“No, I took it from Sheriff Yamah’s refrigerator.” He bent to retrieve some napkins from the basket and missed the horrified look I gave him. “Do you like ham and cheese? I believe he does. He keeps several packages of it—”
“Jesse,” I said, cutting him off. “You stole this food from the sheriff?”