A.J.’s freckled face appeared over the stall door. “Hey,” he greeted them. “What’s up?”
“Hi!” Phil said. “Where’ve you been, buddy? I tried calling you all weekend.”
“Did you hear from that woman?” Stevie asked at the same time, almost dropping the bridle she was holding in her excitement. “Is she your mother?”
A.J. frowned. “What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” he muttered.
Stevie noticed for the first time that he looked kind of grumpy. Uh-oh, she thought. Maybe she still hasn’t called and it’s getting him down.
Before she could ask again, A.J. sighed heavily. “Okay, I know you two aren’t going to leave me alone until I tell you,” he said. “So yes, that woman called yesterday. And no, she’s not my birth mother.”
Stevie’s jaw dropped. “She’s not?” she blurted out. “But I was so sure—”
“Sorry, A.J.,” Phil said, tentatively reaching out to pat A.J. on the arm.
A.J. jerked his arm back. “Whatever,” he said sharply. “Now come on, are we going to ride or what?”
“But, A.J., what did she say?” Stevie asked uncertainly, not willing to let the topic drop just yet. “Are you sure she’s no relation? Maybe she’s, like, some kind of biological aunt or cousin or something.” Seeing A.J.’s expression darken, she changed directions hastily. “Anyway, even if that lead was a bust, it doesn’t mean the next one won’t turn out to be the real deal.”
A.J. rolled his eyes. “Give it up, Stevie. That woman isn’t my relative any more than you are. And you know what? I’m glad. I’m starting to think this whole deal—looking for my birth parents, I mean—is a big fat mistake.”
“What?” Phil sounded startled. “But I thought you were into this.”
Stevie nodded. “You’ll feel better if you know where you came from,” she said encouragingly. “What your roots are and stuff, you know?”
“I’m not so sure about that.” A.J.’s scowl deepened. “Why should I care about finding someone who doesn’t care about me? I mean, she gave me up, right? She didn’t want me or she would’ve kept me.” He shrugged. “I think maybe I’m better off just letting the whole thing drop.”
Stevie couldn’t believe her ears. How could A.J. feel that way? If it were me, I wouldn’t rest until I tracked down my birth mother, she thought. I would have to know the truth.
She didn’t think saying so would help A.J., though. He was obviously in a pessimistic place after the setback with the woman in the photo, and Stevie couldn’t help feeling responsible for that. After all, she was the one who’d found the picture in the first place.
She decided to do the only thing she could think of to make it up to A.J., at least for the moment—change the subject. “Okay then,” she said briskly, ignoring Phil’s surprised glance. “Why don’t you go tack up, A.J.? I think we could all use a nice, relaxing ride right about now.”
At that same moment, Callie was feeling anything but relaxed. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked George. “You must have loosened it with the hoof pick.” She stopped just short of accusing him of doing it intentionally, a little fearful of how he might react to that. A week ago she had thought him totally predictable. Now she wasn’t so sure.
George wasn’t looking at her. He was gazing into the clear, cold water tumbling into the still pool beside them. “Why would I do something like that?”
Callie took a deep breath. To her own surprise, she was feeling dangerously close to bursting into tears. Why would George come all the way out here into the wilderness after her just to sabotage her horse’s shoe? It was crazy. And worse than that, she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. She was prepared for a lot of emergencies on the trail, from cuts and scratches to bee stings to dehydration. But this was a totally different situation. Even though Scooby had gone shoeless until a couple of days earlier, she definitely didn’t want to risk his soundness on the rough footing of the state parklands. And she hadn’t bought Easy Boots in his size yet, so she didn’t have any with her to use, even if she could manage to pull the shoe off the rest of the way.
But this is nuts, she thought, gathering her wits after a moment of near panic. Of course I’m prepared for this kind of thing, too. George or no George, it’s totally possible that my horse could somehow lose or loosen a shoe during a race or a training session. What would I normally do?
The answer came to her immediately. She would lead Scooby to the nearest road, which probably wasn’t more than a half mile away to the east, then use her cell phone to call Pine Hollow for Red or someone to come and pick them up with one of the stable’s trailers. It seemed so simple all of a sudden that she felt like laughing out loud.
Controlling that impulse, she patted Scooby comfortingly and then reached into the cantle bag for the phone. “Excuse me,” she told George icily. “I’ve got to call for a ride.”
“What do you mean?” George blinked in surprise as Callie pressed the power button and the phone came to life with a bleep. “What’s that?”
“It’s a phone. Perhaps you’ve heard of them,” Callie said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Better to have George think she was angry with him—which she was—than to let him see that she was also scared.
“Oh!” George stepped toward her. “Here, let me do that. I’ll call Pine Hollow while you hold on to Scooby.”
“That’s okay,” Callie protested. “I can do—”
She gasped as George grabbed for the phone, moving faster than she’d thought he could. “No, no, I insist!” he exclaimed, pulling the phone out of her grip. “I’ll just call the stable, and then I’ll help you—oops!”
Callie gasped again, watching as the cell phone slid out of George’s grip. The whole scene seemed to slip into slow motion as the phone flew up in a wide arc before falling toward the streambed. Snapping out of her trancelike state, she lunged for it, trying to catch it before it hit the ground. But she was too late. The phone smashed against the rocky slope, a large piece of the black plastic casing snapping off and whizzing to the ground. The rest of the phone bounced, landing a split second later with a splash in the stream, which swept it away.
“Ohmigosh! I’m sorry!” George’s gray eyes were wide. “It slipped, Callie, I swear! I’m really sorry. I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.”
Callie’s heart was pounding at triple its usual speed. Now what? she thought desperately, staring at the cracked piece of black plastic lying at the edge of the stream. Now how do I get out of this?
Because suddenly she was completely certain that George wasn’t sorry. He’d done it on purpose—all of it. First he’d followed her into the woods, far from civilization. Then he’d found a way to put her horse out of commission. And now he’d effectively removed her last link with anyone who could help her.
“Don’t worry, though,” George said, interrupting her thoughts. He gestured toward his horse, who was still grazing nearby. “We can both ride Joy back to the stable—we’ll stay at a walk and lead Scooby so that he doesn’t hurt himself.”
He took a step toward Callie, smiling eagerly. Callie stepped backward until her back was pressed against Scooby’s warm, solid flank. The edge of the saddle cut into her shoulder, but she hardly noticed.
It’s crazy, she thought, feeling panic well up and constrict her throat until she could hardly breathe. Anyone who would do all that stuff on purpose would have to be crazy.
But she just couldn’t shake her conviction that George had done just that—which meant that he was crazy. Totally off his rocker.
And that was the scariest thought of all.
THIRTEEN
Okay, so now what? Callie thought as George took another step toward her. How do I get myself out of this one?
For a moment she was tempted to turn and pull herself into Scooby’s saddle. She could be a good quarter of a mile away by the time George could clamber up the slope to his horse and follow her. And while Joyride, with her long Trakehner l
egs, could easily outrun Scooby on the flat, the sturdy, compact Appaloosa would have an advantage in the rougher territory of the thick woods beyond the clearing they were in.
Get a grip, she told herself firmly, banishing the idea immediately. She couldn’t risk Scooby’s soundness, and perhaps his life, just because she was having a paranoia attack.
Still, as she glanced at George again, she knew there was no way she could go along with George’s plan. He was still advancing toward her, a weird little smile on his round face.
“Come on,” he said, stretching his hand toward her. “Give me Scooby’s lead. I’ll help you bring him up the hill.”
“I don’t think so,” Callie said, easing past Scooby’s head with the intention of putting the horse between her and George. She had no idea what she would do then, but she hoped the slight distance would allow her to take a few deep breaths, control her panic, and get her mind working again.
“Huh?” George blinked in surprise as Callie shoved Scooby’s head up so that she could duck underneath. She guessed that her nervousness was rubbing off on the gelding, since his ears were pinned back and he was shifting uneasily, his hindquarters rotating slightly toward George. “Come on, Callie. I just want to help. Give me the—”
Scooby clearly decided he’d had enough. Letting out a loud snort, he whirled around, almost knocking Callie over as he kicked out swiftly and strongly with one hind leg.
George was staring so intently at Callie that he didn’t see the kick coming. He yelped in surprise and pain as Scooby’s hoof connected firmly with his upper thigh. Stumbling backward, he grabbed at his leg and tripped over a rock. As Callie grabbed Scooby’s reins, she saw George fall. She winced as his head connected solidly with a tree stump; there was a sickening crack.
“George!” she gasped, her fear dissipating as George slumped to the rocky ground, one hand flopping into the cold water of the stream. Her heart in her throat, Callie quickly murmured a few soothing words to Scooby, who already seemed to be calming down. Leading him forward and leaving him ground-tied at a safe distance, she cautiously approached George.
She leaned toward him, gripped by the sudden certainty that his eyes were going to fly open and he was going to grab at her throat.
Stop it! she told herself fiercely. This isn’t some cheesy horror movie. This is real life. George is really hurt, and I’m the only one who can help him.
That helped her focus. Kneeling down beside him, hardly feeling the sharp stones cutting into her knees through the thin fabric of her breeches, she tried to remember what she’d learned in the first-aid course she’d taken a couple of years earlier.
“George?” she croaked, touching him tentatively on the shoulder. She swallowed hard and tried again, more loudly this time. “George? Are you okay?”
There was no response. George was out cold. Callie glanced at his chest and was relieved to see it rising and falling steadily. He seemed to be breathing normally, and she couldn’t see any blood where his head had struck the stump.
I probably shouldn’t try to move him, though, she thought with an odd little shiver of relief, remembering a lecture on the dangers of neck and spine injuries. He’s probably got a concussion at the very least, which means he needs professional help. I shouldn’t even touch him. I should just go call the paramedics or something.
She bit her lip, wondering if she was being completely honest with herself. What would she do if this were Stevie lying unconscious in the cold December woods? Or Scott? Or almost anyone else, even a total stranger?
I would probably try to revive them, she thought, glancing toward the cold water running past. Then if we were pretty sure there were no broken bones or anything, I’d try to get them into the saddle and lead them out to the road so that we could flag down a car and get help as soon as possible.
She shuddered as she imagined doing all that with George. Waking him up, seeing those round, grayish eyes fixed on her again. Touching him, feeling for injuries. Letting him lean on her as she helped him toward Joyride …
No way, she thought, feeling like the world’s biggest coward as she stood and backed away from George’s still, pudgy form. I can’t do it.
She stared at him, trying to convince herself that she was being irrational. And she definitely was; she knew it. Looking at George now, how could she ever have been frightened of him?
Nonetheless, she knew there was no way in the world that she could completely forget the panic and powerlessness she’d felt just moments earlier. There was also no way she could really believe that this had all been some kind of huge coincidence, a run of plain old bad luck with no sinister intentions on George’s part. No, he had been up to no good—Callie was as certain of that as she was of her own name. She hated feeling helpless, especially in her own element, and George had made her feel that way. She wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.
“Stay here,” she said aloud, even though she knew that George couldn’t hear her. “I’ll go get help.”
Forcing herself to crouch beside him again, she quickly felt for his pulse and put a hand near his face to check that his breath really was coming in and out as it should. Noticing that his fingers were still trailing in the stream, she yanked at his sleeve until his arm was resting by his side. Then she backed away and glanced at the two horses, which were both grazing contentedly by that time.
Moving quickly—was it because she wanted to get help as soon as possible or because she was afraid George might wake up before she got away?—Callie loosened Scooby’s girth until she could yank the pad from beneath the saddle.
“Sorry, boy,” she murmured. “I need to borrow this.”
She took the saddle pad and draped it over George’s body, hoping the fleece would keep him from getting too chilled. It would be the better part of an hour before help could possibly reach him, and despite the bright midday sunshine, the air was chilly. Trying not to think about that, Callie returned to Scooby, clipping a lead line onto him. Moments later she was in Joyride’s saddle, with Scooby trailing along at the mare’s flank.
“Okay, guys,” she told the horses, already feeling a little better now that she was in the saddle again, with a real plan of action. Trying not to glance at George, who looked pathetic and pale against the stony stream bank, she patted Joyride on the withers and checked to make sure that Scooby was following quietly. “Ready to get out of here? Because I know I am.”
Without another backward look, Callie urged Joyride into a brisk walk and turned to the east, heading toward the road.
Lisa stared at the box in the middle of her bedroom floor, wondering what she was waiting for.
I should just return it already, she thought, a little annoyed with herself. That’s what I decided to do. So what’s the problem?
But the thought of doing it—of taking the gift she’d chosen for Alex and returning it to the store—made her feel a little queasy. Wouldn’t returning the gift mean turning her back on the possibility that they might get back together? Wouldn’t it mean giving up on something that had been so wonderful—something that could be wonderful again if they just gave it a chance?
Maybe I should wait, she thought uncertainly, her mind flashing past image after image of herself and Alex together—their first kiss, the two of them dancing together at her prom the previous spring, their reunion after her return from California that summer, and on and on. So many good times. It feels really wrong to just assume it’s all over between us.
She stared at the box again. It would be easy enough to shove it into the closet again, leave it there until things were settled. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t come up with the money to buy Red and Denise a wedding gift otherwise. All she had to do was dip into the Christmas money that her relatives had already sent.
The phone rang, and Lisa jumped to her feet, a little relieved at the interruption. I just hope it’s not Aunt Marianne again, she thought with a grimace as she hurried into the hall. If she tells me one more time
how absolutely wonderful the schools are in New Jersey or starts babbling again about all the shopping I can do at the amazing outlet mall near her house, I’ll scream.
“Hello?” she said cautiously as she picked up the phone. “Atwood residence, Lisa speaking.”
“Hi, it’s Scott.”
Lisa gulped. Christmas Eve was the next day. He had to be calling about the Starlight Ride. She still hadn’t really given him an answer, and she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Oh. Hi.”
“How’s it going?” Scott asked. “I was just wondering if you’ve made up your mind. If you’re going to do me the honor of being my date tomorrow night.”
Lisa hesitated, wondering what to say. She didn’t know any other guy her age who would put it just that way—do me the honor. It reminded her of how different Scott was, how interesting and fun it had been getting to know him better. Not to mention that intense, mind-bending kiss …
But then there was Alex. Hadn’t she just been thinking that she wasn’t ready to give up on their relationship? If she went on the Starlight Ride with Scott, it would be their third date. That was starting to go beyond “seeing other people” and into the realm of getting involved. Was Lisa ready to make that choice?
I wish I’d thought to ask Stevie and Carole for their advice about this, she thought. Maybe they could help me figure out what I want.
Thinking of her best friends brought back to mind the ever-present and ever-horrible idea that she might be totally on her own soon if her mother had her way. Before long the only advice Lisa would be able to get from Carole and Stevie would be via long-distance phone calls or e-mail. The thought sent a pang through her, painful and raw.
“Lisa?” Scott’s voice said in her ear. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” Lisa cleared her throat. “And the answer is yes. I’d love to go on the Starlight Ride with you.
“Great!” Scott sounded pleased and a little surprised.
He went on to say something about picking her up the next evening, though Lisa hardly heard him. She was too busy trying to hold back the tears that threatened to overflow as she thought about leaving her friends—and everything else that meant home to her—far behind. No matter what it meant regarding her relationship with Scott and/or Alex, she was glad that she would be going on the Starlight Ride the next night. It would give her a chance to be with her friends, and there might not be many of those chances left.
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