That Summer

by Joan Wolf

  “Clear it with Liam and I'd love to.”

  He got to his feet and I followed. He was two inches shorter than Liam, but I still had to look up at him. With his blue eyes, blond hair and golden tan, he looked like a Viking. He was currently one of the hottest properties in Hollywood.

  “I'll meet you at the barn at seven,” he said.

  “Great,” I said.

  He took my hand. “Give Nancy my condolences.”

  “I will.”

  He bent and this time he kissed my mouth. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodbye, Kevin,” I said, and took the coffee cups back into the empty house.

  After I had washed the dishes, I decided to take a walk around the property and go to visit Thunderhead, Wellington Farm's premiere stallion, the sire of Derby hopeful, Someday Soon.

  The graveled path took me through acres and acres of black oak-fenced grassy paddocks, populated mostly by horses.

  It was one of the most beautiful sights on all the earth. There were the paddocks that belonged to the mares and their foals; the paddocks that were inhabited by the yearlings; those that held the two-year-olds; and finally the stallion paddocks. Close to the stallion paddocks was a large and airy shed which hosted “the most expensive thirty seconds in sports. ” It was the breeding shed.

  Thunderhead was on the far side of his pasture, and I stood at the fence and watched as he assessed my arrival. He was a big boy, a grandson of Mr. Prospector, a perfectly balanced animal with a lovely head, a giant stride, long-sloping shoulders and powerful hindquarters. At the moment his glossy gray coat was somewhat spoiled by the dirt he had rolled in.

  I watched him watching me, then I called his name. His ears flicked. Who was this stranger that knew his name?

  He trotted toward me, stopped when he was about forty feet away, and glared. “Thunderhead,” I said. Liam had named him after the horse in Mary O'Hara's eponymous novel. He came a little closer, nostrils flaring. He was a little put out with me. This was his paddock, after all, and his farm, and who was I to intrude where I wasn't invited?

  As a two-year-old Thunderhead had won three stakes races before an injury had caused Liam to retire him to stud. Last year his first crop of foals had been two-year-olds and they had done well at the races. Now his son, Someday Soon, was one of the favorites for the Derby. If he won, Thunderhead's reputation as a sire would be made. The stallion would be worth a fortune.

  I watched him approach me, careful to keep my hands outside the fence. Stallions have a nasty habit of biting.

  “You're gorgeous,” I told him in the soft, melodious voice I always used for horses.

  His ears flicked back and forth.

  I stood there talking to him and he listened. In the distance, a cloud of dust appeared on the road and both Thunderhead and I watched as the pickup truck went by the mare's pastures and headed in our direction. The truck pulled up and Liam got out, wearing jeans and a collared navy blue knit shirt.

  “Visiting with Number-one Stud?” he asked.

  “Yes. He looks marvelous, Liam.”

  “One of his won the Fountain of Youth last year. And now Someday Soon is having this terrific season.”

  “Storm Cat move over,” I said. At the moment, Storm Cat was the most popular and most expensive stallion standing at stud.

  Liam leaned against the fence next to me. My heart beat a little faster. “I'll never get the money Storm Cat commands, not in Virginia, but if I could get even half it would be a salvation.”

  I looked at Liam's profile and he turned and looked back at me. The sun shone on his black hair and his long black lashes made his eyes look deeply blue. “Salvation?” I said. “That's a strange word for you to use.”

  His eyes looked bleak. “Things have changed around here since you left, Annie. For one thing, the stock market has crashed. Dad had a lot of money in bad stocks. For its entire existence, almost a century, the horse operation here at Wellington never had to worry about running at a profit. It was a gentlemen's avocation, propped up by private money—a small farm standing a few stallions and keeping a smallish number of quality mares. Since I've taken over, the horses have carried themselves, but Dad has always paid for the insurance and the upkeep of the farm buildings. Now it seems the money isn't there anymore.”

  I blinked. “Is your father going to sell the farm, Liam?” I asked in a hushed voice.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “It's not as bad as that. But he's told me that I'm going to have to lease the land from him to run my business. And I'm going to have to shoulder the entire expense of the horse business as well. So there's a lot riding on Someday Soon's success. If he wins the Derby, it should enable me to generate enough income in stud fees to pay Dad the lease money he needs. Otherwise, it's going to be tight.”

  In the pasture, Thunderhead lowered his head and began to graze, all the while keeping one eye turned in our direction.

  Liam looked out over the rolling hills, the large green fields with their run-in sheds, the graceful old trees. He said fiercely, “One day this place will be mine, and I'm not giving up the horses. I've worked too hard to build what I've got here.”

  “You'll make it succeed, Liam. I know you will.”

  His mouth softened and he smiled. “I've missed you, Annie. Your visits home from school were always so short.”

  Liam's smile made Kevin's look dull. I didn't reply.

  “How old are you now anyway?”

  “I am twenty-six, Liam.”

  He looked surprised. “Twenty-six. You mean little Annie is twenty-six already?”

  “Little Annie is twenty-six, and you are twenty-eight. We're not children anymore, Liam.”

  “Believe me, sweetie, I know that.” He looked at me. “But you don't look twenty-six. You still have those big brown eyes and that shiny brown ponytail that makes a guy just yearn to pull it.”

  You look your age, I thought. He didn't from a distance, but close up I could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and his mouth. Well, Liam had known some hard times in his life, that was for sure.

  I said, “I just saw Kevin.”

  His face didn't change. “He must have gotten in after I left the house. Is he staying long?”

  “I don't know. He said he was taking a break from promoting his new film. If it does as well as the last, he'll be in clover.”

  “I wish I had some of his money.”

  Deciding that we were boring, Thunderhead turned his back on us and continued to graze.

  Liam reached out to tug my ponytail gently. Then he grinned. “I couldn't resist it. “ He straightened away from the fence. “We have a breeding session in an hour. I have to go see if the lady is ready. Can I give you a lift?”

  “No, I'll walk. I'm reacquainting myself with the farm.”

  “Okay.”

  He got in his truck and drove away down the gravel road in a cloud of dust. I turned to look back at Thunder-head. Had I made a mistake in taking a month off from work so I could be here for Mom? After so many years of avoiding Wellington, of avoiding Liam, why would I do something so drastically different?

  I knew the answer before I even asked the question. I had been in love with Liam since I was six years old. For ten years I had stayed away from him, hoping my feelings would run their course, like a virus eventually did. But it hadn't happened. I had dated other men, I had even come close to an engagement once, but in the end my feelings for Liam had always won out.

  Absence hadn't worked; perhaps propinquity would. I had hero-worshipped Liam when I was a child. As an adult I would see him more clearly and, I was hoping, more objectively. I wanted, finally, to break the hold he had over me. I wanted to be free.

  Or so I told myself as I leaned on the fence and watched Thunderhead pull up the green grass with his strong thoroughbred teeth.

  That afternoon I took the car into town to pick up some supplies. Midville is in the heart of Virginia hunt country—there are nine separate
hunts in the vicinity— and horses are everywhere on the landscape: in pastures; in horse trailers on the highway and back roads; on roadside signs. There are the restaurants with horsey-sounding names like the Coach Stop, the Jockey Club and the Horse and Hound. There's the tack shop right smack in the middle of Washington Street, the main street in town. There is a statue of a horse at the post office and horseshoes on the bathroom doors in the two local bars. There's an auto repair place called Auto Jockey. If you couldn't tell that Midville was horse country, you had to be blind.

  I was in the Safeway, trying to decide if I wanted Tide or Cheer when a voice from behind me said, “Anne—is that you?”

  I turned to find myself facing a red-haired young man in a suit. It was the hair that clued me in. “Justin,” I said. “How are you?”

  Justin Summers smiled at me. “You look great. I heard you went to vet school.”

  “I did. I'm working in Maryland now, but I'm home because of my father.”

  “I was so sorry about your dad. Everyone in town loved him.”

  My throat felt tight. “He was a good guy.”

  “He was that.”

  I managed a smile. “What are you doing here?”

  “I'm just picking up some food for Lauren—my wife.”

  “You're married. That's wonderful, Justin.”

  “I'm married and I'm an attorney, working here in town.”

  “Better and better,” I said.

  “God,” he said. “Seeing you brings so much back.”

  We were silent for a moment, each of us contemplating his words. “Any children?” I asked brightly.

  “Not yet.”

  We talked for a few more minutes, then Justin pushed his basket away and I decided to take the Cheer.

  I drove home, put the groceries away, and went out to the front porch to wait for Mom. The April afternoon was warm and I could see the back part of the big house through the just-greening trees. My mind wandered back in time, and once again I was six years old and it was my first day at Wellington.

  My father had been hired to break and train Wellington's yearlings, and I was trailing along after him as he walked to the farm's office building to report to Brady Fitzgerald, the farm manager.

  We walked into a room filled with pictures of horses. The gray-haired man behind the desk was on the phone and he gestured my father to a seat and kept on talking. As my father sat down I looked at the black-haired boy who was sitting on an old sofa against the wall. He wore jeans and a T-shirt that said VIRGINIA IS FOR HORSE LOVERS.

  “Hi,” he said. “Who are you.”

  “I'm Anne. My Daddy is starting work here today.”

  “Then he must be Pete Foster.”

  I nodded.

  “He's come to break and train our yearlings and two-year-olds.”

  I nodded again.

  He looked me over from my long brown braids to my well-worn jeans and sneakers. “Do you ride?”

  I stared at him with as much astonishment as if he had asked me if I breathed. “Yes.”

  “I don't mean can you sit on a horse. I mean can you ride? The kid who was here before you was afraid of horses.” He curled his lip in scorn.

  He was the most self-possessed child I had ever met and he was starting to annoy me. I stuck my chin in the air. “You can ask my father if you like. He's the one who taught me.”

  Mr. Fitzgerald had hung up the phone and now he and my dad were talking.

  The black-haired boy said, “I own two ponies. Do you want to go for a ride with me?”

  “Sure,” I answered recklessly.

  “Ask your father.”

  I waited until there was a break in the conversation before I said, “Daddy, can I go for a ride with this boy? He's got two ponies and he said I could ride one.”

  Mr. Fitzgerald said, “I don't know if that's such a good idea. Liam is a Cossack with that pony of his.”

  My father looked at the boy's proud face. “I don't believe we've met.”

  “This is Liam Wellington, Pete. Lawrence's son.”

  My father smiled at Liam. “He won't do anything that Anne can't do as well.”

  Liam curled his lip once more.

  My father said peaceably, “You wouldn't do anything that would get Anne hurt?”

  “Of course not,” was the lofty response.

  “All right, then, Anne. But don't be late for supper.”

  The men went back to their conversation and I trailed Liam out of the room.

  We went to the broodmare barn, which was laid out around three sides of a center courtyard. There was a statue of a horse in the middle. “Who is that?” I asked, looking at the bronze statue.

  “That's On Course. He was bred here then he went to England and won the Epsom Derby. He also won the French Arc de Triomphe. He's the most famous of all Wellington's horses.”

  “Have you ever won the Kentucky Derby?”

  “No.” He gave me a burning look. “But we will someday.”

  Two ponies were stabled in adjoining twelve-by-twelve stalls bedded deeply with hay. “Jake is my old pony; I'm too big for him now. You can ride him. I'll ride Tucker.”

  I looked at Jake, a small roan pony, and he came over to the stall door to nicker at Liam.

  Liam reached in his pocket for a horse treat and gave it to him. Jake inhaled it.

  Liam said, “You can use my saddle. I'll ride bareback.”

  I was only six but I knew this invitation to ride was a kind of a test. I knew it was important that I pass it if I ever wanted to ride with Liam again.

  “I don't need a saddle,” I said. “I'll ride bareback too.”

  He frowned and looked down on me from his superior height. “Are you sure? I promised your father you wouldn't get hurt.”

  “I can ride anything,” I said recklessly. “Daddy says I'm a natural.”

  His nostrils quivered. “We'll see about that.”

  We went to the tack room for bridles, put them on the ponies and walked out into the sunshine. “I'll give you a leg up,” Liam said.

  Once I was aboard, I watched him nonchalantly vault onto Tucker's back.

  “Wow,” I said. “I'd like to learn that.”

  He gave me a haughty look. “We'll see.”

  I hated the words “we'll see.”

  “We'll go through the woods and along Martin's Creek,” he said.

  And so we did, coming out on a wide-open grassy field, where we had a gallop. Jake was a great little pony and did his level best to keep up with Tucker's longer stride.

  When we reached the fence at the end of the field we pulled up, and Liam gave me a brilliant smile. “Hey. You really can ride.”

  Even at six, his smile dazzled me. “I told you so.”

  “You're okay, Annie. You're a peanut and a girl, but you're okay.”

  I was thrilled at these words of praise, so thrilled that I didn't tell him not to call me Annie.

  “The last kid who was here didn't even like horses,” Liam said. “Can you imagine?”

  “No,” I replied honestly.

  “He played video games all day.” This was said with scorn.

  “I like video games,” I said.

  “Of course you do. They're neat. But they're not as neat as horses.”

  “Of course they're not.”

  “Did you have a pony before you came here?”

  “I learned to ride on one of the horses that ponies the racing horses. He was a quarter horse.”

  “We have a few of those horses here. We train our own yearlings for the track right here on the farm, you know.”

  “I know. That's why my dad has come here to work.”

  “Are you going to go to school here in Midville?”

  “Yes. I'm going to be in the first grade and my mom is going to teach at the high school. Do you go to school in Midville?”

  “Yes. I'll go away to boarding school in another couple of years, but for now I'm in Midville. I'll be in the third gra
de.”

  This seemed like a very elevated status to me. I said, “Wow. “ The ponies were walking steadily, their heads hanging down in front of them. “What is the school like? Are the teachers nice?”

  “Yeah. It's okay. If you get Mrs. Morton you'll be lucky. She's very nice.”

  “I hope I get her then.”

  “If anyone gives you a problem, just tell me.” He sounded very lordly. “I'll take care of it for you.”

  I was impressed. “Okay.”

  A small smile curved my lips as I remembered that exchange, and it took me a moment to realize that my mother's car had pulled up to the porch.

  “How did it go?” I asked as she came up the stairs with her arms full of books.

  “All right. It was much better than just sitting home and thinking about how much I miss your father. Everyone at school has been very kind.”

  I said, “I ran into Justin Summers in the Safeway this afternoon. He told me he's a lawyer in town.”

  “Yes. He married Lauren Ames. Do you remember her?”

  “Sure. She was in my class.”

  My mother put her books on the table and one of the dogs from the big house came up the porch steps and curled up next to me. Four dogs lived on the farm: two coonhounds, a Springer spaniel and a black lab. They were out all day long but went inside to sleep at night.

  “How about a cup of tea?” she asked me.

  “Sit, I'll get it.”

  I went into the kitchen, which had golden oak cabinets to the high ceiling and linoleum on the floor. I took two cups and saucers down from the cupboard over the sink and filled the kettle.

  Daddy had loved a cup of tea in the afternoon.

  I felt tears sting my eyes and a lump come into my throat. Guilt twisted in my heart. These last few years I had always managed to find a reason for not coming home. And now it was too late. Daddy was dead and I had last seen him six months ago.

  “Oh Daddy,” I said. Tears streamed down my face. “Oh Daddy, I'm so sorry.”

  I waited until I had regained my composure before I took the tea out to the porch to my mother.

  CHAPTER 3

  The following morning I met Kevin down at the barn and we saddled up the hunters and went for a ride. One of the coonhounds and the lab followed as we went along the barn roads between the paddocks and into a wooded area. There was a trail through the woods that led to Martin's Creek, which we could ford and go onto the trails that ran through the Stanley property next door.