“What’s your pony’s name?”
“Peanut,” she answered, as she waited patiently for Destiny to saddle Daisy.
“Cute name.” Destiny placed the saddle on the blanket and adjusted the cinch on her own mount.
“He’s named after Peanut, the companion pony of Exterminator. He won the Kentucky Derby in 1918.”
“Really?” Destiny stopped what she was doing to listen.
“Yeah, he wasn’t even supposed to run. His owner was going to run Sun Briar, but the horse got hurt, so he ran Exterminator instead, and he won.”
“Wow!” Destiny exclaimed, then finished saddling Daisy. “How do you know all this?”
“You can learn anything on the internet.” Sydney led Peanut to a feed bucket, turned it over and stood on it to reach the saddle. “Plus it’s a book. Old Bones, The Wonder Horse. My daddy and I read it last summer. I love horse books,” Sydney chattered on as Destiny mounted Daisy. “I have all the Black Stallion series. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Jessie gave them to me last year for my birthday.”
“I read all the Black Stallion series, too, but I was a little older than you.” Destiny looked down, adjusting her stirrups.
“So, where do you usually ride?”
“Well, some days I pick. Some days, she does.” Destiny clicked her teeth, and Sydney followed suit, with a little kick to get the horses moving. “Do you have any suggestions?”
A small smiled crept up on Sydney’s lips. “Yeah, I do.” There was mischief in her eyes. She kicked Peanut a little harder, and he started trotting.
Destiny chuckled at the small child bouncing up and down on the pony until he started cantering. Daisy didn’t need any encouragement and followed Peanut until she was loping steadily beside them. They took their time riding through the meadow and down to the pond. An hour later they came to the edge of the forest. Then they stopped. Sydney looked over at Destiny and grinned. “My pick?”
Destiny nodded, following as Sydney walked through a dense section of trees. After about sixty feet the woods opened up. The creek that ran through the property and the three ponds on it was much wider through the forest. How had she never seen this before? In the two years she had ridden, she must have been over the property a hundred times, and yet, she had never ventured into the forest, believing it too thick to navigate, the passages too narrow.
It was an incredible sight. The stream ran shallow through the clearing, up to a small rocky ledge, where it split at a larger rock and some brush creating two small waterfalls a few feet apart. The waterfalls poured about three feet or so into a deeper pool just below, which continued to feed the larger ponds further downstream. Sydney dismounted first, followed by Destiny.
“This is my secret hideout,” Sydney said. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”
Destiny held her finger to her lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Sydney walked Peanut to the water, Destiny and Daisy right behind them. They let their mounts drink from the cold, fresh creek.
“They let you come out here by yourself?”
“Sometimes,” Sydney replied. “I’ve been riding since I was little. I used to ride another pony, a Welsh,” she continued. “Her name was Nellie. But she died a month ago. Peanut was Nellie’s best friend. And of all their ponies, he’s the gentlest.”
Destiny smiled, giving a little more rein to Daisy so she could munch on the green forest grass. “I got my first pony when I was a young girl.”
“Really?” Sydney asked excitedly. “What was its name?”
“Bessie. She was a little dapple gray Welsh pony. She was so sweet and so tame.”
“Peanut’s a Shetland,” Sydney informed her. “I told Daddy I wanted a horse for my birthday.”
“A horse? You’re still young. And a horse is a big responsibility.”
Sydney hung her head. “Yeah, that’s what Daddy said.”
“I’m betting by the time you’re my age that you’ll have a lot of other presents that will mean just as much to you.”
“Not like a horse,” Sydney said, wrapping her arms around Peanut’s neck and squeezing. “Nothing would be as amazing as my own horse!”
Destiny looked over at Peanut. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I guess nothing was ever as special as Bessie was.” As she watched Sydney with Peanut, she smiled. Ah, to be young and naïve. Then she turned to Daisy. “You’re a pretty special lady, too.” Destiny scratched the mare’s forehead again; then Daisy persisted by using her arm as a scratching post. “Hey, it’s about 9:30. We should get you back.”
Sydney’s face fell, but she didn’t complain. She walked to a rock and then mounted Peanut like she’d done it a thousand times. Destiny climbed onto Daisy, the leather squeaking as she rose in the saddle. Silently they rode back to the stable, taking their time, enjoying the morning sounds. They walked past geese on the pond and cattle grazing in the meadow. When they arrived back at the stable Destiny helped Sydney put up the tack and left her brushing Peanut, while she turned Daisy and headed in a different direction along the fence line.
“Dee?” Sydney called after her.
Destiny turned in the saddle.
“Thank you for letting me ride with you.”
Destiny smiled. “See you around, Sydney.”
Sydney waved, then went back to brushing down Peanut as he munched on oats.
“Cute kid.” Destiny grinned to herself as she clicked her teeth and gave Daisy a little kick. Daisy galloped slowly, and then Destiny leaned forward and loosened the reins. “C’mon Girl,” she smiled, as they ran faster and faster across the field. Destiny pressed closer to the horse’s mane as it whipped against her face, snapping her cheeks like sharp cords; losing herself again like she did when she was a young girl. Embracing the freedom of the fields, the freshness of the morning, the smell of her horse. Soon they were racing across the pasture, her heart suddenly full; feeling better than she had in two years.
Chapter 13
Bill stepped into his daughter’s domain and found himself surrounded by purples and greens and pinks. Mostly purple, though. Purple was her favorite color. But when she had asked for purple walls, carpet, comforter and furniture, he drew the line. He had the original wood floors stained and sealed, then repainted the walls a soft pink, with white crown molding and baseboards. However, once it was all said and done, and he’d spent $1000 on furniture he painted purple, purple bed sheets, and comforter, and assorted purple accents for her walls, it felt like she got her way. Sydney was only eight. He knew he shouldn’t indulge her so much. Bill knew he was overcompensating for her mother’s absence from her life, but she was his only child. He had to. He needed to. What else was he to do?
Justine had not only left him after eleven months of marriage but walked away from their child, their beautiful daughter, without ever looking back. Sydney was only four months old when her mother disappeared from their lives. She left without any warning, without any discussion. Bill simply arrived home one day to a note on the mirror. The note was as brief and unremarkable as his marriage had been.
When he first met Justine she was sophisticated and exciting, and he knew he had finally met the one. They went out four times in four weeks, and then they slept together. She left the next day with her family on a pre-planned month-long trip through Italy. She teased him with postcards from exotic ports telling him she was thinking about him and missed him.
However, for three days after she arrived back in the States, she avoided him and his phone calls. The fourth day she showed up on his doorstep, crying and told him she was pregnant. He was surprised, to say the least. But after a moment of letting the news sink in, he was ecstatic. Bill proposed on the spot. They were married the following week at the county courthouse. Before the honeymoon started, the honeymoon was over. Justine had grand plans for them—wanting to travel back to some of the same exotic cities where she had just been so that she could show him the world. But something was just… different. She was diff
erent. Distant.
Bill shook his head as he picked up Sydney’s purple leggings and her purple shirt with a horse outlined with glittery faux jewels, her white tennis shoes with purple hearts and purple shoe laces and her purple and pink polka dotted underwear. Tired of picking up after her, he was going to have to put his foot down. Bill wanted to be the best single dad he could be, but knew he couldn’t keep letting her get away with some of her recent behaviors; not cleaning her room, defiance at school. And then there were the nightmares. Plus, lately, she’d been asking about her mother, and she never even knew her. It was all a little overwhelming.
Bill dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. Justine never wanted to be pregnant and was contemplating an abortion, until Bill pleaded with her to reconsider. In her emotional state she acquiesced and kept the baby. Of course, Justine never had the courage to tell him in person that not only did she not want children, but she never wanted to be married. When she finally did get the nerve, she left it in a letter, taped to the expensive bureau he never really liked. Then she moved to Italy and filed for divorce, giving him full custody. He hadn’t heard from her since.
The front door opened, and he looked up suddenly. He dropped Sydney’s clothes onto her bed and walked into the hallway.
“Daddy!” she exclaimed.
And the moment the sound of her voice hit his ears, any thoughts of chores and punishment, simply slipped away. At least, temporarily. His smile broadened with every step she ran toward him. He knelt to receive her hug and fell backward as she jumped into his arms. She kissed him, then furrowed her brow.
“Your nose is still pretty disgusting.”
Bill saw his daughter reaching for his nose. He leaned back before her fingers arrived, taking them into his hand and kissing them.
“William Bryan Ireland,” his mother exclaimed. “What did you do to your nose?”
“I bumped into the cabinet in the washroom,” he lied.
“The cabinet?” she asked, standing over him, hands on hips. “I swear; you never look where you are going.” His mother shook her head. “Did you take some ibuprofen?”
“Yes, Mother.” Bill hugged Sydney to himself, like a teddy bear or a comforting blanket as he felt a scolding on the horizon.
“Did you put a cold compress on it?”
Bill nodded as he sat back up. Sydney climbed off of him and rushed to her room. “Put your clothes up, Sweetie,” he groaned as he stood up in front of his mother.
She looked up at his nose as he moved toward the kitchen, avoiding her glance. “Maybe rub some mentholatum on it before applying moist heat.”
“I thought you said a cold compress.”
“After the cold compress, dear.” She stated this, as though he should have already known that.
Bill grinned as he walked into the kitchen, picked up her purse and headed for the front door, his mother on his heels. When they arrived at the door, she looked up at his six-foot-one frame from her four-foot-six vantage point, tilting her head as she inspected his nose.
“Love you, Mom.” Bill leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thanks for picking up Sydney tonight.” He handed her purse to her as he opened the door.
“Sure, Sweetie.” She smiled and pulled his arm downward until he leaned closer to her. Then she kissed his cheek. “I’m very proud of you, Son.”
His smile grew. “Thank you, Mom.”
“You really should ice that schnoz,” she added as she walked onto the front porch and pulled her shawl tighter around her.
“I will, Mom. Bye.” Bill shivered, shoving his hands into his front jeans pockets, waiting until she was safely in her car.
“Mentolatum, then heat,” she repeated over her shoulder.
“Got it, Mom.” When she was in her car, he waved and quickly walked back inside. Then Bill dropped his head to the door and banged it gently.
“Syd,” he called out. “Bath, now!”
“Aww,” he heard from her room.
“And then we’ll read whatever you want.”
“You’ll read, or I’ll read?” she asked, as she walked from her room to her bathroom.
“You’ll read. Ms. Johnson says you need to practice your reading.” Bill rounded the corner as he heard her mumbling. “What’d you say, Sweetie?”
“Nothing,” she pouted as her dad started running her a bubble bath. Sydney stepped up onto her purple step stool with white hearts painted all over it and brushed her teeth with her purple toothbrush.
“Ms. Johnson just wants you to be able to read better when you get out of second grade.”
Sydney spat into the sink and looked at him in the mirror. “Allie said Ms. Johnson is the book Nazi.”
“What?” Bill laughed aloud, as he tested the water, then turned off the faucet.
Sydney took a sip of water and rinsed out her mouth, once, then twice, then swallowed her last sip before putting up her toothbrush in her purple toothbrush holder. “Book Nazi.”
Bill helped his daughter undress and then step into the bath. “If you knew what a Nazi was, you would know that’s not a nice thing to say.”
“Well…” she said as wryly as an eight-year-old could while decorating a Barbie simultaneously with bubbles. “Allie explained that a Nazi is someone who hangs onto something like a bulldog and won’t let it go.”
Bill shook his head as he bathed his daughter. “Well, she is your teacher. And she’s supposed to make you read. So, I guess that’s a reasonable explanation but to call her a Nazi, well,” he said, as he tried to put it in eight-year-old layman’s terms. “That’s not only inaccurate but disrespectful and could land you in the principal’s office. And if you think old Ms. Johnson’s tough, she’s probably a piece of cake next to your principal.”
“Piece of cake?” Sydney laughed, decorating his head and chin with bubbles. “Where do you come up with these things?”
“Where do I come up with these things?” he laughed. “You hit me with book Nazi.”
Sydney shrugged. “I call ‘em as I see ‘em.”
Bill poured a large cup of water over his daughter’s head. “Me, too,” he added. “And I’m warning you, Little Miss.” Bill looked at her sternly, shaking his finger at her.
She responded by shaking her long dark hair and soaking him.
Bill dried himself off, then went to check on the rolls for the morning while she finished bathing herself. When he returned fifteen minutes later, she and Barbie were each sporting a bubble beard and tiara. Then he lifted her from the tub, suds and all, and set her onto the bathmat. He knelt beside her and toweled her dry, including her hair. “By the way, I don’t want ever to hear those words out of your mouth again, okay?” he said firmly.
Sydney slipped on her purple princess pajamas and then turned for him to spray her conditioner on before combing out her hair.
“Young lady?” he asked again, over her shoulder before turning her around.
Sydney crossed her arms and looked up into the sky. “Yes, sir.”
Bill narrowed his eyes and turned her chin with his hand until she was facing him.
“Yes, sir,” she repeated more softly.
“Good girl.” Bill tapped the end of her nose. “Now put your dirty clothes in the hamper, put up your towel, get a book and then get into bed.”
Sydney’s shoulders slumped as she did each of the instructed items on his list, then she dragged to her room.
Bill grinned to himself as he watched her complete her tasks before she hurled herself onto her bed. He stood and walked to her room. “One book.” Bill held up one finger, then turned on the lamp by her bed and turned off her ceiling light. “One book,” he repeated, “then sleep.” He walked from the room and closed her door all the way.
“Sleep Nazi,” she said under her breath as she turned the page.
Bill stopped in the hallway, tilted his head, thinking he heard something. “Nah.” He shook his head, turned off the hallway light and disappeared into the da
rkness of his room.
Chapter 14
Destiny didn’t mind parent-teacher conferences. It was just that some of the parents were a problem. Some of them were a little pompous, and that rubbed her the wrong way. Many of the children she fostered through the gifted and talented program came from wealth. And a few of those had an entitlement mentality. They were smart. Very smart. And manipulative. Then there those who were more than a little arrogant, believing that they deserved the best grade, just for showing up. Sometimes even when they didn’t show up.
The year before her accident, she had discovered two of her students were buying their papers online. Destiny immediately removed them from the program. Both of their parents were furious, and after a very lengthy legal battle, the children were allowed to choose whether to stay in the program with a written admission of their guilt added to their school transcript or to drop voluntarily out of the program. Reluctantly, they resigned. The parents of the two boys tried very hard to lobby the school board to get rid of Destiny. However, most of the board were either her friends, people she’d grown up with, or people she had worked with over the past eight years. They knew her. They knew her reputation, and how much she cared about the kids—even the ones she had suspended from the program. They knew she was an advocate of accountability. Thankfully, her school board had backed her up.
Wally Williamson was the elite of the elite of the film industry in Austin. His son, Frederick, was his protégé. Wally, concerned that his son wasn’t performing as well as he could in school, wasn’t the overbearing parent who pushed his child to overachieve at all costs. He was the kind of parent Destiny admired; he and his wife came to every school sponsored event that his son participated in and more importantly, every parent-teacher conference. He took her phone calls with concerns, and he or his wife called if they had concerns. She wished all her parents were as invested in their children’s lives as he and his wife were. Destiny assured them their son was doing well and that he was trying hard to excel. He was an honest, dedicated young man and Destiny was almost sure Frederick would graduate at the top of his class. Their conference ended with a sincere handshake and a thank you for her dedication.
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