“You're really confusing me, you know.”
Mike snapped to attention at the accusation. A look of concern in his now deep blue eyes was enough to melt my heart. Winny didn't flinch. “What do you mean?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. Gretchen,” she stabbed her finger in the direction Gretchen had left.
“The hug? It was just a congratulations for her doing so well. She initiated it.”
“So what?” Winny's voice was growing more vicious. “So she rubs her perfect body all over you. You don't have to indulge her and you certainly don't have to like it.”
Mike's fists balled up at his sides and the muscles in his jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth.
“That's not fair,” he said sternly.
“Not fair?” Winny mocked him with a laugh. “I'm just calling it as I see it!”
“Come on, Nadia! You're the one who's confusing here. Ever since I met you, you've been so hard to read.”
“Me?” Winny asked incredulously, pointing to her chest.
“Yes, you!”
“Enlighten me.”
“I've been trying to ask you on a date for almost a year now. Before we got here, every time I touched your hand, you pulled back. And now, you're jealous? How am I supposed to keep up with you?”
Winny folded her arms across her stomach and cocked her hip to the side. “I thought I made my feelings crystal clear. I apologize for not being shameless as Gretchen.” She jutted her chin out and looked down her nose at him. “I suppose we don't have to worry about that anymore.”
Mike's mouth dropped open, caught off guard by her cold dismissal.
“No, Winny,” I fruitlessly pleaded. “Don't be so hard on him.” Winny looked at me, her expression a desperate reading of, What do I do now?
“Alright then,” Mike said, absolutely defeated. He hung his head and walked away from us.
When he was out of earshot, Winny grabbed the metal bars of my stall and said, “I'm sorry, Nadia, but you do not need that kind of treatment. He should make a definite decision between you and Gretchen and get off the fence.”
Silently, she walked off, back to the cross-country fields where Kristi and Willow would be galloping through shortly.
Left in my stall to contemplate alone, I dropped to my knees, physically and emotionally tattered. There was nothing I could do about it. Nothing more I wished to do about it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
At dinner, Isis apologized for Gretchen's behavior.
“Why?” I asked apathetically.
“I never claimed that she was perfect but what she did was inexcusable. She slips in and out of her insecurities so easily.”
“Insecurities? Is that what you call them?”
Isis thought and answered, “Yes, her general lack of self-esteem gets her to do some awful things.”
“Well, it doesn't matter now, I suppose. My chances with Mike flew out the window when Winny and I switched places.”
“Don't be so sure about that,” Isis hinted, her black eye sparkling.
“Oh, yeah, I guess she can blame it on the fact that she's from a broken home.”
“That's not fair,” Isis warned.
“Life doesn't seem very fair, does it?” I snapped. “Gretchen's a rich, beautiful, talented girl who has dozens of adoring minions, even if she is a child of a lousy dad. Her grandmother may be cruel but she obviously indulges her every wish. Me, an average nobody who never asked for much, now stuck as an average horse.”
“You're just being ridiculous.”
“Whatever,” I muttered and gave her the cold shoulder.
Winny didn't feel any better than I did. Apathetically, she did her nightly chores without so much as acknowledging me.
“You feeling alright?” Sidney asked her. She hadn’t learned her lesson yesterday, traipsing around in a pair of bright, flowery wedge heels with a lime green party dress. She leaned against the light post looking utterly out of place but completely oblivious.
“Sure,” Winny said rather unconvincingly.
“Do you want to go with Kristi and me to get some sherbet? I hear the stuff they sell here is to die for.”
“Nah. Thanks though.”
Without excusing herself, Winny shuffled away to her trailer, slamming the door behind her while Sidney and Kristi gossiped, lightly grooming a snoozing Willow.
There was no need for sleep that night. I'd rested my physically worn body all afternoon and no amount of sleep was going to get rid of the bogged down, hopelessly empty pit of despair.
I leaned my long head against the door of my stall. Pushing my weight in it to alleviate my pounding headache, the hinges squealed and the door cracked open.
Wedging my nose in the crevice, I shoved the door out of my way and stepped out onto the gritty cement.
“Where are you going?” hissed Isis, still behind bars.
“Relax. I'm just going for a walk.”
“A walk? By yourself? It's nearly dawn. You'll be spotted.”
“I need to clear my head.”
Before she could protest more, I trotted off in the direction of the meadow. I figured it would be the safest place to sort through the mangled thoughts in my head. There never was anyone else walking over there and with the grounds deserted, it was the best chance I had to get away. Plus, the grass there was exceptionally sweet and nothing was more therapeutic to a horse than grazing.
Striding through the scraggly trees bordering the field, I surveyed the land. The moon dimly cast light before she bowed out for the day's return. From the corner of my eye, a tightly coiled shadow crouched in the west of the sleepy meadow. It didn't move except for the rhythmic swell of breathing.
“Hello?” I neighed cautiously.
The figure stood up and stepped toward me.
“Winny?”
I recognized the voice. Sucking in deeply through my nose, a comforting scent wafted towards me.
I nickered, “Mike?”
“Winny?” Mike repeated. “What are you doing out here?” His usually twinkling eyes were dark and heavy. It was painful just looking at him.
“Come on,” he wrapped his arm under my cheeks and led me into the clearing. “I could use some company.”
At the center, he flopped down again and motioned for me to take my choice of grass. I nibbled a tuft at my feet, keeping an eye trained on him.
He said nothing. I said nothing. He wasn't going to understand me anyway. The last of the chirping crickets silenced as the black sky lighted into a periwinkle blue at the horizon. Robins and cardinals chirped from the brush, revived by the night's rest.
Mike sat up and folded his arms around his knees. “I just don't get that girl,” he sighed.
“Who?” I pricked my ears and gave him my full attention. Surely he was talking about Winny, reincarnated in my body and therefore, me.
“She's so fun to be around and she's hilarious. She's not afraid of hard work or getting a little dirty and lately, she's really opened up but…” he trailed off.
My heart froze mid-beat, afraid of what his pause implied. The wad of half-chewed grass clumped together in my throat as I swallowed. Had he fallen for Gretchen? Or someone else?
“Nadia's been acting so bizarre lately.”
My heart thawed and rapidly drummed against my ribcage. My head whirled. From the cover of a chokecherry bush, a brilliant red male cardinal serenaded a female sitting at the canopy.
It'd be so much easier if we were like birds, I thought. A guy comes and sings for you and if it's not impressive enough, you just flit away until you find Mr. Right.
Mike was deeply lost in his thoughts, searching for answers to his own questions.
I can't take this, I whined to myself. Just say it! Do you like me or not?
Folding my legs underneath my wide belly, I slumped to the loamy ground. Mike scooted himself closer and twirled my mane in his fingers. It sent shivers down my spine, feeling him play with my hair. Were I
in human form, he certainly wouldn't have been so liberal with his touch. I was glad to be a horse at that moment.
“I don't want Gretchen getting the wrong idea.” He confessed, “I probably shouldn't have given her a hug.”
“You got it right,” I flicked my head, a flat tone of sarcasm in my whicker
“She's more like a sister than anything. Gorgeous, for sure, but not my type.” There was no denying her looks. She was practically Dressage Champion Barbie.
“But, I just don't get that same, I don't know,” Mike hesitated, “that same excitement, that connection that I get with Nadia.”
If I were capable of blushing, surely my cheeks would have rivaled a ripe beet. Instead, the soft tissues of my nose warmed up hotter than a blazing fire.
“I should do something special for her,” he mused.
“Chocolate,” I whickered. “I really like chocolate.” My answer came out unintelligible to Mike.
Mike turned to me and gave me a curious look. He brushed my forelock out the way and peered past my eyes, scrutinizing my soul. “Do you understand what I'm saying? You're awfully vocal this morning.”
He stared at me with a prying gaze but I kept my lips sealed. How on earth would I explain it to him anyway? Morse code by tapping my hooves on the ground?
“Never mind,” he muttered and massaged my neck. His hands were more healing than an entire day filled with nothing but grazing and buckets of carrots.
“Nadia,” he breathed my name. “I think I love her.”
The words were not wholly unexpected but were completely satisfying. They answered the suspicion I’d had about his feelings and put my troubled mind to rest.
We watched the sunrise with the symphony of tweeting birds and rattling leaves amplifying the splendor. With the sun finally free from the horizon, Mike stood and stretched himself. I followed suit, heaving myself up and situating my feet beneath me.
“We'd better get going before anyone wonders if you've escaped.”
Slowly, I walked beside him, desperately wishing I could grab his hand from his pocket or wrap my arms around him in an earnest embrace.
Playfully, I shoved him with my nose, drawing out a smirk from him. His anguish vanished. Mike scoffed and said, “How much do I owe you for the therapy session, doc?”
He laughed and patted my forehead as I nudged him again with my muzzle. His countenance was considerably improved and that was payment enough for me.
Mike delicately cupped my chin in his hand and led me back through the hidden entrance. The thicket of trees and brush surrounding the meadow thinned until we spilled out to the show grounds. Only a few people were awake at the early hour, mostly grooms feeding horses, a couple walking a feisty German shepherd on a short leash and a crew setting flowers out on the show jumping course.
“I'll race you,” Mike gave me a devilish grin.
“Please.”
Unexpectedly, Mike kissed the velvety skin between my lips and cheeks. The red hot on my nostrils flared again. I never imagined my first kiss would be as a horse, but I’d take it anyway it was given.
At the stalls, Winny was frantically flitting back and forth, asking if people had seen her horse. Knowing she was about to have a nervous breakdown, I jogged over to her, nickering softly, “Winny, I'm here.”
She spun on her heels and with wide eyes, looked at me. Spotting Mike, they narrowed into angry slits.
“Now you're into stealing my horse?” she accused.
Mike slid down my side and motioned me into my waiting stall. “Actually, she found me.”
“Really,” Winny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms defensively in front of her stomach. “So she's talented enough to open her own door now?”
Mike dropped his head and clenched his jaw, straining to keep his temper in check. His humble nature was wearing thin with Winny's accusations. “Don't know how she did it, Nadia. All I know is that she was out and you're lucky she found me instead of taking off down the road.”
Without waiting for her rebuttal, Mike hastily marched away. If I could have slapped Winny, I would have seriously considered it. Instead, I substituted a forceful shove to Winny's back.
“Way to go,” I chided her. She didn’t seem to understand. Flicking my tail in her face, I trudged into the stall. Making my point, I grabbed the rails of the door by my teeth and slammed it shut with a heavy clank.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“It says stall three hundred,” a voice sternly insisted.
“Let me look at the sheet,” another protested.
“Why? Can't I read just as well as you?”
A deep voice interjected, “Calm down, everyone. Isn't that her right there?”
“Mom! Dad!” I practically shrieked. I pawed the ground fiercely, thrilled at the surprise. Rooney yapped excitedly at the end of his leash, thinking I might be dangerous. He was the kind of dog that would have jumped in front of a charging wildebeest to save his darling Selma. Too bad he was so puny. I could have taken care of him with one hoof.
Peter snorted, “Kind of feisty, isn't she?”
My mother poked him in the side. “Watch what you say.”
I shook my head in agreement, “Yeah, Pete. Watch what you say. I could take you out now, no problem.”
“This horse is Nadia's baby and I'm sure she treats it accordingly. You don't want her to go off on you for making fun of her pride and joy, do you?”
Peter rolled his lively brown eyes. “It's not a baby. It's a horse.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Where's Nadia at?” My dad scratched his thinning hair. “I don't imagine she's ever too far away from this mare.”
“She's probably getting breakfast. Let's walk down to the food tent.”
“Be sure to bring something back for me,” Peter groaned, slumping into the folding chair near my door. “I'm practically wasting away here.”
“You're so lazy,” Selma pointed out to him. Peter just shrugged, neither denying nor confirming the fact.
“Okay, wait here and we'll be back.” Mom gathered up Selma, Rooney and my dad, leading them towards the smell of frying sausage and fresh buttermilk pancakes. Before long, Peter was lightly snoring in the seat with his Colts ball cap shading his face. No one had much to say that morning. We'd all settled down since we'd been at Gallant Meadows for half a week. The nervous shrieks and playful whinnies were few and far between.
“'Scuse me, son,” a man drawled to Peter. I shot my head up to see a cowboy standing outside my door. Chuck tipped his hat to Peter who snorted and leapt from his seat.
“Sorry, is this your spot?”
“No, no. I was just wondering if you'd seen Gretchen. We're supposed to have breakfast together.”
“Gretchen?” Peter removed his cap and rubbed his scalp. “I'm afraid I don't know her. This is my sister's horse. That's why I'm here.”
“Oh, you're one of the Wells then. Nice to meet you,” he shook hands with Peter. “I was pleased Gretchen's grandmother bought Winny for Nadia. She's quite the horse.”
Isis, her head tilted slightly, like she was trying to dump out an earful of water, asked me, “Gretchen's grandmother?”
“That's what he said,” I answered warily, not sure I followed her logic.
“He said Gretchen's grandmother bought the horse for you. Ms. Diederich is Gretchen's grandmother?”
Astonished, I could think of nothing to say. Ms. Diederich? Gretchen's grandmother? The more I mulled over the idea, the more it seemed possible. Their love of horses, their stern nature and fierce temper, even their slender, upturned nose.
“I would have never guessed…” I trailed off.
“Me neither.”
Chuck told Peter, “Ms. Diederich has a real eye for talent in both horses and riders. She’s gifted in her own right, too. Rode in the Olympics once. Sometime in the sixties.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” Peter noted. “Nadia didn’t tell me her coach was an Olympian
.”
I could have died right then and there. I was an Olympic legend’s prodigy? If I would have known, I might have shown a little more respect.
“It’s tough for Gretchen,” Chuck continued. “Her grandmother has high expectations for her. Too high, in my opinion. Sometimes it’s a little much for her. But what do I know? I’m just Gretchen’s father.”
My eyes widened. “Chuck is Gretchen's dad?” Isis and I sounded in unison.
“I suppose I’m overly sensitive,” Chuck said. “My wife Helena passed away a few years ago. We’re all still hurtin’ from it.”
“From what?” Peter asked.
“Competing, actually.” He shook his head and chuckled, but it was without humor. “At least it was doing what she loved. She was such a fearless rider. A lot like Gretchen.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Peter said.
“It takes a long time to cope with losing the woman you love. I think I’m finally coming to grips with it after a few years drowning it in the bottle. It’s hard to blame Gretchen’s grandmother one bit for any of our predicament either. Ms. Diederich is incredibly stubborn and we had more than our share of roaring arguments. For now, my girls are living with her, at least until I get my act cleaned up.” Chuck eventually turned the conversation to small talk—Peter’s education, the weather, how the show was going.
I felt ashamed and confused and sorry all at once. I’d missed all the connections—Gretchen admitting to her jealousy of my perfect family life, their melancholy hug at Danika’s place. I even knew she and Chuck shared the Fitzgeralds surname but for some reason, it hadn’t clicked.
With Gretchen a no-show, Chuck asked Peter to give her a message if he happened to spot her. “Tell her her dad's looking for her.”
“Feel a little more sympathetic for Gretchen now?” Isis questioned. I had to admit it. Gretchen had tons of life experiences I couldn't begin to imagine and despite myself, I softened towards her.
Chuck excused himself and Peter slumped back in his chair, whistling a sporadic tune. Not long after Chuck departed, Winny, in an unbroken stare, watched her feet walk as she approached my stall.
Headed for the Win (Nadia and Winny Book 1) Page 14