North Oak 4- To Bottle Lightning

by Ann Hunter

  Alex looked over her shoulder to her bedroom door. A familiar tune of a griddle crackling drifted upstairs. She looked back to Carol as it registered.

  "Bacon," they said simultaneously with delicious enthusiasm.

  Carol's eyes opened wide. "Should we get up?"

  Alex settled back down on her pillow. "Just one more minute." She wanted to memorize the way the sunlight hit just behind those crazy lavender eyes, and how Carol's tiny freckles bridged perfectly over her nose from cheek to cheek.

  Carol blushed beneath the stare. "Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking when you look at me like that."

  Alex bit her lip. "I'm wondering what I did right to have you as a friend. I'm so lucky."

  “You okay? After last night, I mean.”

  “I will be.” She linked pinkies with Carol, grateful for this anchor in her life. Alex had been running from a nightmare, and yet she kept waking up to a dream life at North Oak.

  Carol kicked back the covers and swung her legs over the bed. "I'm going down. Whatever else your mom is cooking is killing me."

  "'Kay."

  Mom. I didn't even have that before. Although Alex still wasn't sure if she thought of Dr. Hillary Showman, North Oak's head veterinarian, as her own mom.

  "Tell her I'll be down in a minute," Alex added.

  Carol paused at the doorway and grinned over her shoulder before padding downstairs.

  Alex flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, and sighed. She’d take this little happiness and try to forget last night.

  For the first time in her life, she felt like this was home. And Carol... Alex glanced at the door where Carol had been and was smothered in smiles. She never thought her heart would beat again after losing Ashley, but it did now.

  She winced momentarily. She was still counting. Six hundred and twenty-seven days. Why was she still counting? It wasn’t fair that she had a safe home now, people who loved her, but DeGelder and Ashley still lurked in every shadow, forbidding her to move on.

  Alex sat up and rubbed her face. She had better things waiting to distract her, like bacon, and pancakes, and really, really fast horses.

  CENTERED

  Alex went down the stairs to the music of plates, bowls, and silverware clinking at the kitchen table.

  Carol was already into her bacon and eggs, while Laura poured herself a bowl of cereal. Alex yanked out a chair beside her, and reached for the bowl of scrambled eggs. “No bacon?”

  “I’m going vegan,” Laura said with a full mouth. “Vegans go to Harvard.”

  “You and the Harvard thing.” Alex rolled her eyes, layering four slices of bacon onto her plate. Not turkey bacon either. The good kind they got from real pigs down the road a stretch. Hillary said anything else was an abomination to God. Alex was pretty sure that was Hillary’s inner foodie talking. Their so-called God probably didn’t give a flying fart about bacon.

  Laura poured herself a glass of juice. “I’m going. Watch me. I have those big school tests next spring.”

  “The SAT and ACT?” Carol asked.

  “Yeah, that.” Laura nodded.

  Hillary stood by the stove, flipping over pancakes. “Maybe Carol could tutor you. She’s good at math.”

  “You’re more artsy fartsy anyway, Laura,” Alex teased.

  Laura nearly spewed her juice. “You said fart.”

  “Oh my land, are we twelve?” Hillary chided.

  Alex and Laura exchanged looks, snorting in laughter.

  Cade took a chair across from them. “We missed you at the fireworks last night, Sport.”

  Alex froze with her teeth sunk into a slice of toast. The booming echoes still drummed in her memory. Twisted in some curtain of her mind, there was only Ashley dying and Alex shooting DeGelder. The crime she didn’t want to be reminded of. The loss she still couldn’t come to terms with.

  She resumed chewing, and chugged down a glass of milk so she wouldn’t have to answer. The hairs on the back of her neck came to attention when she realized they were all looking at her, expecting her to respond.

  Alex swallowed, focused on the bacon grease sizzling in the frying pan on the stove so the pancakes wouldn’t stick to it.

  Hillary cleared her throat. “Carol mentioned we might want to find a therapist for— ”

  Alex’s eyes shot to Carol who looked like a chipmunk with her mouth stuffed full of breakfast.

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  Alex knocked her chair back, rising from the table. Did words just tumble out of Carol’s mouth when it wasn’t full of food? How could she betray Alex like that?

  “Where are you going?” Hillary asked.

  “Out,” Alex said, not holding back any venom from her voice.

  “Dressed like that?” Cade raised an eyebrow.

  Alex pulled her red chucks on. “T-shirt, shorts, I’m good.”

  She slammed the door behind her.

  “I don’t need some stiff to tell me I’m messed up,” she muttered, jumping from the stoop to the gravel path below.

  Alex kicked the rocks in her way. A whinny in the paddock across from the Showmans’ farmhouse caught her attention. She turned her head to see a colt as dark as chocolate surge from behind a few trees, his white mane and tail flagging behind him.

  Tension eased from Alex’s shoulders and jaw. She shook out her hand, which had been bunched into a fist. Some of her anger subsided. How could it not when he skid to a stop, dropped his head over the fence, and called to her? She crossed to him, gently yanking on his ear. “Hey, Pro.”

  Promenade nipped her pocket. Alex playfully nipped his cheekbone.

  This was the only therapy she needed.

  She raked her fingers through his creamy forelock, bumping her forehead against his. He was home for the summer after a brief spring campaign of his first races as a two-year-old. Despite nearly selling for a cool five million as a yearling, he remained winless in his first three starts. It had eaten away at Alex to stay in school and only see him on television. If she could have been with him, maybe things would have been different. She tried not to think of him being whisked away in the next month or two to another racetrack to try again.

  “Loser. Like me.” She smirked as he bumped her away.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Brooke Merrsal said casually.

  Alex turned to see the granddaughter of North Oak’s head trainer, Joe Hendricks, headed her way. For the most part, Alex trusted Brooke’s opinion when it came to racing, and their working relationship was constant. But sometimes… sometimes they were flat out frenemies. At least they were good about pulling the other’s head out of their butt when they didn’t see eye to eye.

  Brooke patted Promenade’s neck, glancing at Alex. “Ready for today’s lesson?”

  The Showmans’ front door shut. Alex glanced over her shoulder to see Carol headed her way. “Alex, where are you going?” Carol called.

  Alex walked backwards a few steps, tugging Brooke’s wrist. “Still mad at you, Care.”

  “I thought we were going to hang out.”

  Alex stuck her tongue out at her.

  Carol cocked her head, hands on her hips. “I don’t French long distance.”

  Brooke choked on a laugh.

  Alex threw her a sharp look, heat rising up her neck. She was sure her cheeks were trying to turn the same shade as her chucks.

  “I think you just weirded her out,” Brooke called back to Carol.

  “Tell the weirdo I’ll be waiting for her in the boarding barn,” Carol answered.

  Brooke jabbed Alex in the ribs playfully. “Hear that, Princess Charming? You’ve got a date.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed on Carol. She swiveled on her heel and shoved her hands in her pockets, grumbling to Brooke, “Shut up.”

  Alex and Brooke made their way to the indoor arena near the boarding barn and pushed the doors apart. Tiny particles of dust floated in the light cast by large windows high on the walls, accenting the earthy scen
t of the arena dirt. A haybale girdled with a racing saddle waited inside.

  Good ol’ Speedy.

  Alex crossed to it and sat astride, easing her feet into the irons. The first time they’d met, she was so excited to be able to get on a real racehorse, only to be greeted by the farm’s joke. No fancy equiciser to practice on, like she saw real jockeys do on TV, or read about. Just some dinky, musty old haybale.

  Any more bristly, and he’d be Joe.

  He had shoved her off Speedy once. She winced, remembering Joe’s harsh words, as she made some adjustments on the racing saddle: “You wanna learn how to ride? Learn how to fall.”

  Oh, well. At least she and Speedy could both be North Oak’s jokes. Until she turned sixteen in another year and a half, she’d be stuck relying on Speedy and a big ol’ bowl of Brooke’s good graces. She wished she could say that then, when she was old enough for her racing license, that nobody would be fooled. Until that time, who would take her seriously? Herself.

  “I know you can handle Morning Glory,” Brooke said, referring to her racing filly she had Alex ride sometimes, “but if you ever want to get on Pro, you’ll have to convince Pop that you’re not completely incompetent.”

  Alex bit her lip, sliding a strap into the stirrup leather keeper. “How do we do that?”

  “We need to work on your foundation and purchase.”

  Alex swung her feet forward and back, checking the tension and length of the leathers. “Purchase? Please tell me the only shopping we’re doing is at the tack store.”

  “Not that kind, dodo.”

  Alex pulled her hair back and tucked it behind her ears. The arena swirled with a thick warmth that heralded the oncoming heat of the day. She took a deep breath of hay and arena dust, aware of the sweat forming on the back of her neck. Sometimes the semantics of racing made her want to gouge her eyes out or something, probably with parts of Speedy. She just wanted to be out on the track already, proving to Joe he could trust her with a horse. That wasn’t happening until she nailed down the tactics.

  “Purchase is the position of a riders’ feet in the stirrups.” Brooke slid the iron just behind the ball of Alex’s foot. “If you don’t have solid purchase, you don’t have a good foundation.”

  Alex leaned over, watching and feeling the placement of her foot. Brooke tapped Alex’s ankle, getting her to flex her heel way down. “Haven’t we already gone over this?”

  Brooke looked up at her. “You’ve been getting sloppy.”

  The corner of Alex’s mouth turned up wryly.

  “If you’re not balanced, the horse has to work harder to compensate. It’s your job as a rider to help your mount as much as you can. Better balance means better movement. Movement equals performance.”

  Alex rose in the stirrups, paying attention to the way the new adjustments affected her muscles. The tension ran right up through the back of her thighs. It was a sweet kind of burn that felt good and super sucked at the same time. She glanced down, feeling like she was more solid. She wished she’d worn jeans. Speedy was obnoxiously pokey.

  The haybale rustled as she leaned one way to the other, flexing her heels and calves. She grit her teeth.

  Brooke circled her. “Flatten your back. Eyes straight ahead.”

  Alex tried to picture herself sort of as a triangle, forming the apex of the horse’s stride. If she closed her eyes, she could see herself on Promenade racing down the backstretch, with their hearts beating as one. She loved that feeling of electric in the reins, and a heartbeat between her knees.

  Leaning forward just a touch, she was sure something mentally clicked. If only she could test it out on a real horse, she would be sure. The image of Joe dressed as that wizard guy from Lord of the Rings popped into her mind, yelling, “You shall not pass!”

  She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be annoyed, until she pictured herself as the big, fiery monster. Her mouth twisted. She was a beast, and screw you, old man.

  “Good,” Brooke said. “Your center of gravity always needs to line up with the horse’s.”

  “I think I got it.” Alex eased back and sat against the thin vinyl saddle that separated her from the haybale.

  “You wanna know what I love about a racehorse?” Brooke smiled, like she had some huge secret to share. “The center of his gravity… it’s in his heart. Right through the girth where his blood pumps the deepest.”

  She arced her hand through the air like she was painting an imaginary scene. “When I watch the great riders during a race, I can only imagine what it must be like to be in sync. You get a taste of it while exercise riding.” She and Alex locked eyes for a moment. “Your heart right over the horse’s, two beating as one.”

  Thinking on that feeling she’d shared sneaking rides on Promenade, exercising Morning Glory for Brooke on occasion, Alex smiled. Some of her crankiness from earlier melted away. “There’s nothing better.”

  Brooke nodded. She squeezed Alex’s Achilles. “But if you’re not in sync, if you do something to throw the horse’s balance off, it can be game over. Bang, crash.” She popped Alex in the heel. “That’s why purchase is so important.”

  Alex nodded. “No purchase, no foundation, no balance, no movement, no performance.”

  Brooke grinned. “Ladies and gentlemen, she can be taught!”

  Right. Like a chicken, or a monkey. Whatever it took to get her from perching over a bale of hay to actually flying on a horse. Alex rolled her eyes.

  Brooke straightened, brushing her hands off on her back jean pockets. “I’m going to leave you to practice for a while. Don’t forget Carol’s waiting for you.”

  “There’s nothing going on between us, you know. We’re just friends like you and Laura.”

  Brooke grinned. “Sure.”

  She watched Brooke leave, and perched up over Speedy again, trying to picture where a real horse’s heart would be. Where his center was.

  And as Ashley invaded her thoughts, Alex wondered where her own center was.

  A BETTER PERSON

  Carol leaned into the brush as it glided over Thorne’s dark back. The seal-bay gelding twitched with pleasure, shifting his weight and exhaling contentedly in the cross-ties. Why had Alex been so upset? Didn’t she understand why Carol had told her parents what happened? She wanted Alex to be happy.

  Carol tucked her lip, pausing from brushing Thorne, and leaned her forehead against his stocky shoulder. What would she do if Alex didn’t want to be friends anymore? Carol didn’t think she could stand the rest of the summer alone. She certainly didn’t want to sit at home watching TV all day while her mom worked at the hospital.

  “What’s eating you?”

  Carol looked up, searching for the owner of the voice. Dejado Augustun stood in the aisle with a wheelbarrel full of fresh bedding for one of the stalls. She hadn’t realized he’d been there.

  He held a work glove in his teeth while he pulled the other glove from his back pocket and put it on. He had these dimples that made you want pinch his cheeks, and the dark floppy hair thing… Carol burrowed her face into Thorne’s shoulder again before Dejado could notice her blush.

  “Usually when I see a girl head-desking a horse,” he said, “it can’t be anything good.”

  Carol laughed softly. He was right. Thorne swished his tail impatiently, and she went back to brushing him. She moved to his other side and started working there. “It’s Alex.”

  Dejado cocked an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  Carol smiled. Of course he was. It was no secret he’d been trying to get Alex to like him. “I don’t know if I can tell you everything without making things worse between she and I.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “She’s been through a lot, and…” Carol looked at him. “If she hasn’t told you yet, then it’s probably not my business to either.”

  “Secrets between friends.” He picked up the wheelbarrow handles, shuffling down the aisle. “I understand.”

  Except maybe she ki
nda screwed that whole secrets between friends thing up. Carol’s shoulders slumped. Thorne swung his head around, ears perking toward her like he was reading her thoughts. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, wanting someone to understand how she felt, but Thorne’s deep, dark eyes looked empathetic. She reached for the bridge of his nose and rubbed it gratefully.

  Maybe she could still make things better somehow. She cleared her throat. “Dejado?” she called.

  He poked his head out from behind a stall door. “Hmm?”

  “Do you think you could get Approved ready for Alex? She’s off with Brooke right now, but she’ll be here soon.” At least Carol hoped she would if she hadn’t screwed up their day too much.

  Dejado smiled. “Course.”

  Carol set about tacking up Thorne, trying to convince herself that a good ride would solve everything like it usually did. She put her bravest face on and smiled when Alex appeared in the breezeway. “Feel better?”

  Alex glowered. “What’s he doing here?”

  Carol glanced to Dejado, working diligently on grooming Approved for Alex. “I asked him to help so you and I could go when you were done with Brooke.”

  He grinned at Alex. “Good morning, Ishmael.”

  Carol tightened Thorne’s girth. She and Alex had studied Moby Dick that spring, and she wondered if that’s where the nickname came from. She could imagine Alex snidely telling Dejado to call her that when she was going through another rough patch of life.

  Alex grabbed the brush from Dejado’s hand as though he held some sort of weapon. “Dorkshado,” she said curtly.

  They stared eachother down. Could they ever get along? Carol shook her head with a half-smile. Approved snorted, breaking the tension.

  Alex laid a hand on the gelding’s nutmeg shoulder, but kept her eyes on Dejado, as though her stare could push him away. She removed her mount from the cross ties and pulled herself onto his back outside. Approved circled in the sunshine, head held high under a tight hold. She glared at Carol, then put her heels to Approved.

  They disappeared around the corner of the barn. Dejado turned to Carol, hands on his waist and looking perplexed.