by Jillian Neal
“I’ll be right there the entire time.” He kept up steady reassurances with every measured step he coaxed out of her.
“Well, look at what the cat dragged in.” Beck was forking hay into the stalls of the large barn.
“Hey, old man.” Brock teased as he heartily shook Beck’s hand.
“Look at you bringing pretty ladies out here like Izzy won’t get jealous.” Beck offered Hope his hand.
Bewildered, she managed to accept the handshake but kept her gaze flitting from one horse to another in the stalls. “Uh, who’s Izzy?”
Chuckling, Brock took three steps beyond Beck. He grinned at the majestic, copper-colored quarter horse that was whinnying for his attention. “Beck, this is my girlfriend, Hope Hendrix. Hope, this is Isabelle. Izzy for short. She’s been my girl for a long time. I like you more.” He winked at Hope. “But don’t tell her that.” He proffered Izzy several rubs on her nose and then pulled an apple from his pocket. Her tail swished with delight as she consumed her favorite snack.
“Oh.” Hope nodded and forced her feet to move in the direction of the horse.
“Hope’s never ridden before. This’ll be her first time. I thought I might ride double with her if you have a pillion saddle, and you don’t think Izzy would mind.” Brock lifted his eyebrows. Izzy was 15.5 hands, plenty big enough to hold his weight and Hope’s for a slow trail ride, but Brock wouldn’t do that to a horse for any length of time.
“All the saddles are in the tack room. Pillions are in the back, and she’ll be fine for a while. I wouldn’t take her on the bluff trail that way, but on one of the shorter trails she won’t mind at’all. Izzy’d do most anything for you, Brock. You know that. And Ms. Hendrix, I hope you enjoy your ride. Next time, we’ll get you on your own horse.”
Hope managed another shaky nod. “She’s … uh … really high up.”
Beck ran his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at Hope outright, but Brock just leaned down and brushed a kiss over her cheek. “You’ll be fine, sugar. Trust me?”
“I do.” She sounded as if that admission were the furthest possible thing from the truth.
“Izzy’s as sweet as they come, aren’t you girl?” Brock opened the stall door and stepped inside to grant Izzy a little more love and a sugar cube or two from the ones he’d picked up on his way into the barn.
“Here,” Beck handed Brock a pillion saddle so he didn’t have to leave Izzy and more importantly so he didn’t have to try to make Hope walk back past the other dozen horses to get to the tack room. Appreciative of the help, he led Izzy out of the stable and into the sunshine.
Brock expertly bridled and saddled Izzy. She did seem to be a very sweet horse, and very responsive to Brock. Hope understood that only too well. Maybe if Izzy sensed that they had that in common she would like Hope too.
When he finished with the saddle, he turned back to Hope. “Okay, I’m gonna get you on first then I’ll hop up behind you. You’ll be on her less than 2 seconds without me. We always mount from the left. Izzy senses that you’re scared of her. She’s a sweetheart. She’s gonna try to get you to loosen up, but she won’t do anything that will frighten you.”
“Did she tell you that or something?” It annoyed her that even the horse knew she was terrified. How utterly pathetic. Brock was probably already regretting this, and if she’d ever had any prayer of getting him to commit to her for longer than the next few weeks it was gone now. He loved riding horses more than anything else—even the Cornhuskers, his truck, and surfing, and that was saying something.
“See how’s she’s studying you and trying to keep still?”
Hope nodded.
“She doesn’t want to scare you so she’s trying to show you she’s gentle. Horses talk. You just have to listen. They’re just like humans. They all have something to teach us.”
Dejected, Hope took Brock’s hand and let him help her place her left foot in the stirrup. Tensing her entire body, she managed to swing her right leg over the horse’s girth and into the saddle. True to his word, Brock was behind her before she even had a chance to be afraid.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and took the reins. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Hope willed her voice to stop shaking.
“Try to relax for me. You ride like that all day, you won’t be able to walk for a week. I’ve got you.” With that, he made a noise with his mouth that sounded akin to a kiss. Hope felt his powerful legs nudge Izzy’s sides, and they were off.
Izzy walked slowly along the trail, letting him take her anywhere he wanted her to go, and Hope managed to relax just a little.
“There you go.” He brushed another kiss on her cheek as she settled back against his chest. “See, no big deal. Ready to go just a little faster?”
“Is that why she keeps sort of pulling on the rein things?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, she’s trying to be patient with you, but she’s getting a little bored.”
“We can go faster, Izzy.” Hope was shocked at her own excitement. Maybe that girl that wanted her father to throw her faster and higher in the water was still in there somewhere. Brock gave the horse another nudge and she began to really trot. Hope tensed for a moment, but then settled back in and began to take in the beauty around her.
“Look at that!” She pointed to a low ridge that was covered in magnificent trees just starting to change their leaves as they climbed upwards towards the mountains.
“Amazing, isn’t it? People never see stuff like this in a car on the interstate. I think that’s what I love most about riding. It’s an entirely different world.”
Thrilled over the scenery, Hope felt silly for being so afraid she’d stared at nothing by Izzy’s mane for the last half hour.
“Just wait ‘til you see where we’re having lunch.” Brock sounded thrilled as well.
A sense of peace washed through Hope’s weary veins. Out here, all of the complications with this current relationship, her money problems, the new roof, her aunt, Skye’s insanity, and everything else that weighted her existence seemed so very far away. They would be there when she returned, but for now, life traveled with the rhythmic clop of Izzy’s steady hooves, and Hope let the melody carry her thoughts to a kind of oasis where nothing existed but her and Brock … and Izzy, too, she supposed.
“Can we go faster?” She was doing this. She was going to live.
“You sure?” Elation perforated his tone.
She nodded.
“Giddy up, girl. You know where we’re going,” he urged, and Izzy increased her speed. Hope held on tight. She was certain Izzy could fly faster if she didn’t have two riders, but Hope loved it anyway. Next time, she could ride her own horse. She was determined. She wanted Brock to show her.
Several minutes later, Izzy slowed of her own accord.
Hope’s brow furrowed. “Is she getting tired?”
“We’re gonna let her rest. She’s slowing down because we’re here. Look.” Brock directed her to a stunning field filled with wildflowers in every imaginable color. Orange milkweed intertwined yellow jessamine. Some kind of purple flowers Hope didn’t know the name of dotted the landscape in every available area. Tall grasses attempted to hold their ground against an uprising of Queen Anne’s lace. She could make out white creek plums and daisies, and there, she gasped, there was an entire patch of dandelions.
“Oh, my gosh! Brock, it’s beautiful. Can we get down?”
“Yes, ma’am. This is where we’re eating lunch, and there’s a little creek on the other side there where we’ll let Miss Izzy rest since we put her through her paces.”
“Is it bad for her for both of us to be up here?” Hope couldn’t stand the thought that they might be hurting Izzy.
“Nah, and you don’t weigh enough for her to even notice the difference.”
Hope doubted that was true. He dismounted and then lifted her down to the ground. Taking Izzy’s lead, he guided her through the flowers. Hope giggled when she sto
pped to munch on a few. When they arrived at the creek, Izzy lapped at the cool water while Hope made a beeline for the dandelions. Brock followed after her.
She picked one and cradled it in her hand.
“You gonna make a wish, sugar?” He grinned at her, but she shook her head. Another memory returned to her.
“Did your parents ever tell you the dandelion story?”
“Which story?” His brow furrowed as he made a quick check of Izzy.
“About the fairy families that live in the petals?” Certain she sounded ridiculous, Hope tried to stop talking.
Brock shook his head. “My parents weren’t big on stories. You tell me.”
“It’s silly, really.” She rolled her eyes.
“Hey.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek softly. “If it meant something to you even when you were little, I want to hear it. You never talk about what happened, Hope. That’s gotta be hard.”
Floral-scented mountain air filled her lungs and gave her courage. “Daddy used to tell Skye and me that fairy families lived inside of dandelions. They’re who make the yellow petals fall off and turn them white, and that when you blow the flower the fairies make your wish come true. It’s an old Gypsy legend.”
Brock grinned and nodded his understanding.
“But I never wanted to blow them or to make a wish.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted the fairy families to stay together.” She choked over that admission and blinked back tears. Why did he have to be so easy to talk to? Why had she told him that stupid story? She hadn’t even thought of it in years.
“Come here to me,” he softly soothed as he guided her into his substantial embrace. “Listen to me, Hope, I know your aunt never really let you talk about your parents, but please don’t be embarrassed to talk about them with me.”
Something in the way Brock embraced her, in the smell of his aftershave mixed with the flowers surrounding them, sent a lightning pulse to her brain. She gasped and jerked her head away from his chest. “Brock, I remember! I remember when he told us that story. He used to tell us that when we went camping. Why can’t I remember anything else?” Her jaw clenched as she tried to forcibly cajole her brain into recalling more.
Giving her another grin, Brock nodded. “Some memories are stronger than others. I remember when my mom told me we were moving from the ranch I was so furious, but I just kind of forced myself to try to remember every single thing that I loved about living there. I refused to lose those memories. You have to fight to keep the important things, Hope. You can’t ever let them go. Honestly, I hate your aunt for a lot of reasons, sweetheart, but the fact that she didn’t help you remember is why I hate her the most.”
Hope nodded against his chest and let him feebly wipe away the tears he could access from her left cheek. “I wish I could remember more.”
“Let’s have some lunch and you keep talking. Tell me every single thing you can remember about the years before the wreck. You’ll be surprised what you come up with. My mom and I used to sit and talk about how my Uncle Ev’s hound dog, Husky, had horrible gas, or the way the sun came up over the silos, anything, but it all helped us remember.”
A giggle shook through her tears, helping them to dissipate. She lifted her head and allowed him to really wipe the hot tears from her face this time. “Is that why you don’t ever go back? Because you remember it so well?”
Brock’s jaw tensed and a storm of intense emotion crashed in his eyes. When he didn’t respond, Hope started to apologize, but he cut her off.
“Yeah, maybe.” His eyes darted back to Izzy. He couldn’t look her in the eye and lie to her, she supposed, but what on earth had brought on that reaction?
Thrown by his response, Hope debated asking more. “I have a few vivid memories with mom and dad, but I just wish I’d paid more attention to the insignificant details, you know? Like, I wish I could remember the exact way my mom’s crab chowder smelled when it was cooking, or what I got for Christmas when I was seven, what my dad’s workshop looked like, stuff like that.” She shrugged.
His expression softened, and his customary tenderness returned to his eyes. Maybe asking about the ranch made him sad and that made him angry. Guys could be like that. She’d never really known Brock to avoid emotion, though.
“Come on. Let’s eat, and you talk. Tell me anything that comes to your mind. You never know what you might recall.”
Hope shared the very few stories she recalled from her childhood. She hated the details she’d forgotten all because the stories hadn’t been retold. The fabric of her life was torn. “Maybe that’s why I love books so much,” she blurted out in between bites of fried chicken.
Brock’s brow furrowed, but he gave her that grin that said he’d never understand her but he still loved her—in a friend sort of way. “What?”
“Sorry. It just kind of hit me. Stories are everything. The stories you remember from the ranch affected your whole life. And you said you and your mom told them over and over again. That’s how histories are passed down, Brock. Don’t you see? I feel like my history was kind of erased. I wish someone were here that could tell me my own stories, but they aren’t, so maybe that’s why I love reading other people’s stories so much.”
“Sweetie, do you have any pictures from before the wreck? Does your aunt have them or something? Maybe that would bring your stories back.”
Hope shook her head. “Aunt Cora threw out the album Mom had. She said it was clutter.”
The irritated exhalation of breath that egressed Brock’s flared nostrils spoke volumes. He’d just admitted to hating her aunt. Hope had never considered hating Cora. She was the only family Hope had other than Skye, and generally she did mean well.
Another memory, one she hated, one that didn’t want to be a part of her story forced its way through the barbed barriers she’d erected in her mind.
“I remember the wreck.” She confessed with a terrified shiver.
Brock guided her closer and kept her tucked in his arms. “Tell me, sweetie. Stop trying to keep it all bottled up inside of you.”
“It was so loud, and I couldn’t see. I remember hearing Skye crying, and I tried to hold her hand, but my arm wouldn’t move. I saw the red lights, and I remember telling the firefighters to make mommy answer Skye. I remember the way the blood smelled, metallic like a penny that no one wanted. I hated it. The firefighter kept telling me not to go to sleep, and I got mad at him. I don’t really remember much after that.” She shrugged and buried her face against his neck. He held her tightly in his arms. “That’s when I started being afraid of everything, I think.”
“And you had every right to be afraid then, sweetheart. Every right in the world, but you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m right here.”
She’d never, ever told anyone the things she remembered from the wreck. She’d never told anyone the fairy story. She’d never discussed her parents with anyone but him. Her heart ached with the memories, and then it seemed to lighten as she allowed herself believe that he was there to listen and lighten the load she’d tried to shoulder all of her life.
She lifted her head. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Okay, we don’t have to.”
Anxious to distract herself, she went on with her next thought. “You don’t have to answer this if it upsets you, but I was curious if you have a favorite story from the ranch. Something that made you laugh, maybe.”
“You don’t have to read my stories, sweetie. I’ll tell them to you.” Brock winked at her. He did indeed start laughing, and Hope could see the memories begin to form in the glass canvas of his hazel eyes. “So, my family’s land is a massive ranch. Uncle Ev and my dad were supposed to split it when my grandparents moved into town. But I told you the story about my dad gambling away several acres. He did it just to spite Uncle Ev, but anyway, Granddaddy took away my dad’s portion and gave the whole thing to Ev. That pissed Dad off but good.
Hope joined in his laughter and tried to force herself to remember the melody of their laughter together. Brock was right. There were some memories you had to fight to keep. She wondered if he knew that most of the ones she never wanted to forget involved him.
They continued to laugh together, and she reviewed the story in her mind. “So, uh, do I want to know how one preg-tests cattle? I’m guessing they don’t pee on one of those stick things.”
His laughter turned uproarious as he shook his head. “You really want me to tell you?”
Hope considered, but her insatiable curiosity got the best of her. “Tell me.”
“Well, you stick your arm up the cow’s …”
“Okay, you know what, never mind. I’m good. I’m so, so good.” They both cracked up at that and continued laughing as they remounted Izzy and headed back to the stables.