Clearwater Bay 2- Against the Clock

by Kate Lattey

  “Thank you. It was a long time ago now.”

  She wipes her tears again with her hand, and I jump up and weave between the tables to the front counter, where I grab a small stash of paper napkins. Nina laughs when I hand them to her, and dabs the tears away carefully with the corner of one. Her carefully-applied makeup has run slightly and her eyes are red, but strangely enough, I’ve never liked her more than I do right now.

  “She was just a baby. Five months, two weeks and three days old. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, they call it, and sudden is right. One day she was there, the next…” Nina scrunches the napkin into her hand as she talks, her voice measured and controlled, but I can see the effort it’s costing her. “One of those things, they said. Nothing you could’ve done. Nobody could’ve predicted it.” She shakes her head slowly. “I couldn’t believe it. I’d wanted her so badly, planned everything so meticulously. It was the first thing in my life that didn’t go according to my plans, and I just…fell apart.”

  Nina dabs at her eyes again, but keeps talking. “My marriage fell apart too, after a while. He wanted us to try again, to move on, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let her go. I could hardly get out of bed, let alone work or even think about having another child. And he got impatient, and he left.”

  “That’s terrible!” I exclaim indignantly, but she shrugs.

  “I don’t blame him. I couldn’t give him what he wanted, what we’d both wanted so badly. I was a failure. That’s how I felt, and that’s how my family saw me. Still see me, really. They don’t understand either. My siblings are married now with children of their own, and every time I see them it just reminds me of everything I lost.” Nina sighs. “I love my family, don’t get me wrong, but they ran out of sympathy for me years ago. Eventually I went back to work, and just threw myself headfirst into that, leaving no room for anything else.”

  As she talks, I remember Alec’s comments at Christmas, and my skin burns hot at the memory. Ever wonder why Nina chose to spend Christmas with you instead of with her own family? I’d told him that I didn’t care why, had dismissed her reasons as trivial. I couldn’t have been more wrong, and I wish I could go back and have that day to do over.

  “When I met your father, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. Just a few casual dates. And he was so easy to talk to, you know?” She looks at me, sees my startled expression, and shrugs. “He’s quiet,” she clarifies. “A good listener. I found myself telling him things that I hadn’t told anyone in years. Including about Isabel.” Pain flickers across her face as she says her daughter’s name, but she carries on. “That was our third date, and that’s when he told me about you.”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes a little. “Of course it took him until the third date.” She smiles shakily, and I wonder what that revelation must’ve been like for her. “I’m surprised you didn’t just cut and run, then and there.”

  “I thought about it,” Nina admits. “It did seem a pretty big thing to forget to mention. But to be fair, I hadn’t exactly given him much of a chance to talk about himself. So I thought I’d give it a shot. To wait until I’d met you. I thought maybe we’d get along.”

  I cringe at the recollection of our first evening. I’d barely spoken two words to her that night. “And I would’ve made such a good impression,” I mutter sarcastically, but she shakes her head.

  “You didn’t make a bad impression at all,” she says softly. “You were perfectly civil, but you also seemed so…lonely. I felt for you, and I wanted to see more of you. I pushed your father into taking me to your horse show, and inviting me to Christmas, because I was starting to realise how much I missed out on when I lost my own daughter. I would never try to replace your mother,” she says quickly, seeing my startled expression. “And I’m sorry if it ever felt that way. I wasn’t trying to, I just...”

  “It’s okay,” I assure her. “I get it. You were just trying to be nice to me.”

  “I think we’ve both made mistakes,” she says. “Hopefully we can learn from them.”

  I nod. Seems like people never stop making mistakes, no matter how old they get. “Do you think you and Dad will get back together?”

  Nina thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’d like to be part of a family that needs me to be an active participant in their lives. You’re not ready for that, and neither is Dave. You’re still learning to live with each other, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

  “You weren’t in the way,” I tell her, but even as she smiles gratefully, I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

  “Thanks for saying so,” she replies. “I appreciate it.”

  We spend the rest of the meal chatting about minor things, and she pays the bill for both of us. I walk with her back to her office, and we stop outside the front door.

  “You can come on up if you want to,” she offers, but I quickly decline.

  “It’s okay. I’m actually late now to meet Dad, and he’s going to be ringing me to get a move on in a minute.”

  I feel the cellphone in my pocket buzzing even as I say the words, but I ignore it.

  “For what it’s worth,” I start, then the words clam up in my throat, threatening to make me cry again. I swallow hard, and force them out. “You would’ve made a really good mother.”

  Nina looks like she’s about to burst into tears, so I step forward impulsively and give her a hug. She stands frozen for a moment, then reaches her slender arms around me and hugs me back firmly. I close my eyes and rest my head against her collarbone, letting myself believe for just a moment that I still have a mother.

  And as Nina lets out a shaky breath and holds me tight, I know she’s letting herself believe in the same thing.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I walk down to Alec’s when I get home, and go out to the paddock to get Finn. She’s become progressively easier to catch lately, and today for the first time, she comes up to me when I approach her, even with the halter over my shoulder.

  “Hello gorgeous.” I give her the piece of apple that I know she’s looking for, then slip her halter on and clip it up. “Ready to do some work?”

  Alec’s waiting for me at the gate, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Afternoon. Have a nice shopping trip?”

  “Not bad. What’ve you been up to? I came down this morning but you were nowhere to be seen, and your mum didn’t know where you’d gone.”

  “Yeah she did,” he says with a grin. “I’ve got something for you.” He swings the gate shut behind Finn’s hindquarters and clips the latch up. “Chuck your pony in a yard and come with me.”

  I look at him suspiciously over my shoulder as I lead Finn over to the yards. “Where are we going?”

  “Not far.”

  I unclip Finn’s leadrope and close the sagging yard gate behind her, lifting it awkwardly into place as I shove the bolt home. “Is it a new gate for this yard?”

  “That doesn’t need a new gate, just new hinges. And no, it’s way more exciting than that. C’mon.”

  Alec starts walking towards the woolshed, then stops and turns around. “Wait. Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s a surprise, and I want it to be surprising.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “No way.”

  “Fine.” He steps around behind me and covers my eyes with his own hands. “Now walk.”

  “If you make me walk into a wall, I’m going to kill you.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’d be far more likely to make you walk into the creek. And I won’t,” he promises as I try to squirm away from him. “Just trust me, would you?”

  We walk awkwardly across the yard, or at least I think that’s where we’re going. Without sight I’m forced to rely on my other senses, but aside from the crunching of gravel under my feet and the sensation of Alec’s calloused hands across my eyes, I’m not left with much. His legs bump into mine from time to time as we walk.

  “You stink of petrol.”
r />   “Diesel.”

  “Same thing.”

  He chuckles. “Put petrol in a diesel engine and tell me that again. On second thoughts, just take my word for it. Not the same.”

  I wrinkle my nose as Alec navigates us around a corner, and I can smell the dogs now too. We’re near the kennels, I realise, just as Alec takes his hands away from my eyes and moves to stand next to me.

  “Surprise!”

  I blink, trying to work out what I’m looking at. Bouncer, Magpie and Rebel gaze up at me from the row of cage kennels and I stare down at them in mild confusion. And then a black and white blur appears at the edge of my vision, and I turn to see a mischievous-looking puppy springing out of the kennel at the end of the row and looking up at me, tail wagging frantically.

  I gasp and crouch down to see him. He licks my fingers through the grill, and I look up at Alec, silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

  “He’s back!”

  “Yep.” He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head then crouches down next to me. “Never did get you a Christmas present, so he’ll have to do.”

  I stare at him, and he meets my eyes evenly. “He’s for me?”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  I stare at Alec’s smiling face, then back at the pup in disbelief. “He’s…but…” My head is swirling, but my excitement is quickly dampened when I remember why I couldn’t have the pup in the first place. “Dad’ll never let me keep him. He said no about a thousand times already.” The puppy nips at my knuckles, and I withdraw them from the cage, still thinking. “Can he live here? Is that okay?”

  Alec shakes his head. “He’s useless as a farm dog. That’s why he got returned, because he has no interest in working sheep or following orders. He just wants to sleep all day and play the fool. And don’t worry about your dad. I talked him ‘round this afternoon.”

  “You did not. How?”

  Alec grins at me. “That’d be telling.”

  He reaches over and unlatches the pup’s cage, and the young dog bounces out and jumps up at me, frantically licking my face and yipping excitedly. Rebel turns his back in disgust, but I can’t help laughing as the pup runs around behind me and collides with Alec, sprawling into the dust at his feet.

  “So he’s really mine?” I ask again as we both stand up

  “All yours.”

  I fling my arms around Alec’s neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you! He’s the best present I’ve ever had.”

  Alec hugs me back, and that’s two hugs in one day. He’s more solid than Nina, and I can smell the dogs on him, mingled with sweat and diesel and hay and all the other smells that make up Alec. Over his shoulder, I watch the pup trot up to a passing hen, who flaps her wings in alarm and squawks at him. He tumbles backwards in astonishment, and I laugh as I step back out of Alec’s embrace.

  “Has he got a name yet?” I ask, and Alec shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans.

  “Not as far as I know. You’ll have to try and think of something.”

  That won’t be a problem. I’ve had the perfect name picked out for this mischievous, silly fellow ever since he was born. He bounds back over to us, and I scoop him into my arms and give him a hug as he licks the sunblock off my chin.

  “Well then. Welcome to the family, Puck.”

  Strangely enough, Alec really has managed to talk Dad around. Of course, he pretends not to be pleased about it, and reckons that Alec practically begged him to take the puppy in, but Puck soon wins him over with his impossible cuteness.

  Even Chewy only takes a few hours to get used to the company, tolerating Puck leaping back and forth over him and trying to make him play games for the entire evening, until he finally collapses in exhaustion in the middle of Chewy’s bed and falls soundly asleep. Chewy looks at me in pathetic protest, and I make Puck up a bed of his own before transferring his sleepy body onto it.

  Satisfied, Chewy climbs onto his own bed and lies down with his head on his paws, keeping one cautious eye on the snoring puppy. I rub the old boy’s head affectionately before I head up to bed, still unable to believe that I can now add dog, alongside pony, to the list of pets I never thought I’d have the chance to own.

  * * *

  Finn’s ears are pricked and her long trot strides eat up the pine-soft ground beneath us as we head up the logging road the following weekend. The Horse of the Year Show is fast approaching, and I’m getting more nervous about it by the day. It hasn’t helped that we’ve only been to one show in the last month, and although Finn jumped well there, we’re only three weeks away from HOY with no shows left to practice at. We had planned to go to North Island Champs this weekend, but a death in Tabby’s family has sent her up north for the funeral, and Alec’s gone with her to catch up with his cousins.

  Meanwhile, everyone else is at Champs. Anneke’s there, and has already won two classes on Nonny. She texted through a photo last night, declaring that Nonny’s prepping his ‘A-game’ for HOY. Natalie was Reserve Champion in the Show Hunters, and Sarah’s pony Mickey won the metre-twenty. I know because she posted it all over Facebook last night with some thinly-veiled comments about how crazy it is that a pony as consistent as him would get overlooked for a team. Seems like she’s still not letting that one go, and I sigh as I let Finn burst into a canter.

  It’s not fair, I think to myself sullenly. Everyone’s there except us. Everyone’s getting a good practice at a big show, everyone’s prepping themselves and finding their weak points and knowing what to work on in the next few weeks before HOY. Except us.

  And Tegan, I remember, but that’s only due to her own stubbornness. Nugget is back in work now and she’s once again refusing to ride Ghost, leaving him in the paddock and completely ignoring him. Or so Lizzie said when she cornered me at school last week and asked if I would come over and ride Ghost for them, because everyone at their house is too busy and her mother hates to see a good pony go to waste. I was tempted, but refused, knowing that Tegan would flip her lid and it would only drive a bigger wedge between us. She’s still not talking to me, but I haven’t given up completely on the idea of us being friends again. And even if we aren’t, she’s the last person I need as an all-out enemy.

  I’m thrown out of my musing when Finn props to a halt and flings her head up, eyes wide. I recover my balance and snap at her irritably before closing my legs against her sides again. But she doesn’t move, just lifts her head higher, her nostrils flared. I look around, but I can’t see anything unusual. I’m about to kick her on again when I hear a strange noise coming from the gully below us. We both freeze, and Finn’s small ears swivel back and forth as a voice reaches us through the trees.

  “Help!”

  It’s faint, but it’s definitely coming from the gully below us. I turn Finn around and jog her down the track. It’s steep here, and she tosses her head and goes sideways, jibbing restlessly.

  “Hello?”

  “Down here! Help!”

  My head swivels to the right, where the trail drops off sharply down a bank, and what I see makes my blood run cold. Tegan is standing at the bottom of the bank, tears pouring down her face, as Nugget thrashes desperately on his back in the narrow ditch at the bottom.

  “He’s stuck,” she cries to me. “He can’t get out!”

  I fling myself out of Finn’s saddle and pull the reins over her head, then lead her closer to the edge. She whinnies to Nugget, who pauses in his frantic motions and whinnies back. He lies still for a moment, blowing heavily, and I hook Finn’s reins over a nearby tree branch, praying that she won’t pull back and hurt herself, then scramble down the bank towards the trapped pony.

  “We have to get him out!” Tegan is sobbing and she clutches at my arm anxiously, all animosity forgotten. “You have to help me!”

  “I will, but I don’t know what to do!” I tell her, feeling sick to my stomach as Nugget renews his struggles to escape. “Woah pony, you’ll be okay, just take it easy, all right?” I try to s
peak in my most soothing voice, but Tegan isn’t making it easy.

  “He’s making it worse!” she moans as Nugget’s flailing hooves scrape chunks of earth down onto his stomach, panicking him further. As we watch, one of his hind legs gets caught between the bank and an exposed tree root, and he struggles desperately against its hold, but his leg only gets jammed further in. Tegan screams, her arm gripping mine like a vice, and I suddenly surge into action.

  I pull her hand from my arm and grab her wrists, pinning them to her sides. “Tegan! Stop it. You’re upsetting him more and making it worse. He can’t get out by himself, so we’re going to have to help him.”

  “What can we do?” she cries. “We’re not strong enough to pull him out.”

  “First we need to make him stop struggling. He’s not doing himself any favours,” I tell her.

  “How?”

  “Sit on his head. Or blindfold him. Or both.”

  “Sit on his head?”

  “If he can’t get his head up, he can’t get on his feet. If he tries now, he’ll break his leg.” Tegan wails, and I feel like slapping her. “Stop it! You have to focus. You have to keep him still and this is the only way. I saw it on TV once, when a horse got trapped and had to be dragged out.”

  “They got it out?”

  “Yeah, they got ropes around it and pulled it out with a tractor.”

  I don’t tell her that the horse didn’t survive the rescue. She doesn’t need to know that right now. I turn back to look at Nugget, who has recovered his breath and is starting to want to move again.

  “Hurry up,” I urge my friend as I move closer to the distressed pony. “Woah there Nugs, take it easy.”

  I crouch down by his head, grabbing his bridle and putting my knee behind his ear, pressing his head against the ground. He surges against the pressure, and Tegan gasps, but I hold firm.

  “Is he okay? Is he going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know. Come here, hurry up.”