Back in the Saddle

by Bonnie Bryant

  Wow, Callie thought as she hurried toward the seats. Maybe George isn’t as clueless as I thought. He certainly seemed willing and able to accept that he’d stepped over the line last night. Could it be that I just haven’t been clear enough after all about only wanting to be friends? Am I sending mixed signals?

  She really wasn’t sure. In the past, she’d always been quick to tell off guys who didn’t take no for an answer the first time, usually leaving them quivering and mortified in the scorched and melted remains of their male egos. For a while, after she’d blown away three obnoxious suitors in the space of a week, Scott had jokingly started calling her the Terminator. But George was so different from those other guys—more sensitive, almost like an eager little boy, one who could be mortally wounded by a harsh word. She’d thought she was doing the right thing by taking it easy on him, giving him time to get over her. But by trying to spare his feelings, had she merely ended up confusing him?

  She would have to think more about that later, she decided. In the meantime, she took the seat beside Stevie and glanced down the row. “Where’s Spike?” she asked, noting that her friend’s husband was nowhere in sight.

  Stevie frowned. “Who cares?” she muttered. “There’s no rule that says we have to sit together just because we were forced into this ridiculous fake marriage.”

  Callie raised one eyebrow, recognizing that tone. “Ooo-kay,” she said, deciding to change the subject. “So how’s the article going?”

  “Great!” Stevie perked up immediately. “I got a lot done last night. All I need to do today is gather a few more quotes and work in whatever we cover in this class. Then it will just be a matter of proofreading and doing any last-minute revisions before my deadline this afternoon.”

  Corey, who had settled into the seat on Callie’s other side, leaned across her and nodded. “Let me know if you want any more brilliant quotes from me, Stevie.”

  Stevie grinned. “I will, Corey. Thanks.”

  Just then Miss Fenton called for attention. A pudgy woman with pasty skin and flyaway red hair had joined her onstage. “Good morning, juniors,” the headmistress said. “I’d like you to welcome Ms. Abigail Norwood. She’s our guest speaker for today. She’s a psychologist and author of the best-selling book Why Some Marriages Last Forever and Some Don’t.”

  Callie clapped politely along with everyone else. But she was a little distracted by George. He had moved to a seat across the aisle and a few rows ahead of her. I’ve been blaming him for everything, she thought. But is that really fair? Maybe I’ve been a little uptight this week, so focused on my training and on talking to Mom and Dad about the horse thing that I haven’t been as honest and understanding as I could be with George. Especially since I know very well that he isn’t exactly Mr. Self-Confidence. Maybe he hasn’t been playing the friend role exactly right so far, but it’s not like I’m perfect, either.

  She wasn’t sure what to think about that idea. But soon the thought of her horse-to-be distracted her from thoughts of George. She couldn’t wait to start checking out prospects. Maybe Max could give her some names to call that very afternoon. It was already Thursday, but Callie was sure she could set up some appointments for that weekend if she didn’t waste any more time.

  I wonder which would be better—a fairly young, green horse with lots of raw talent that I could bring along just the way I want, or an older, seasoned competitor that can start entering races as soon as I’ve caught up? She chewed her lower lip, thinking about the pros and cons of both plans. Finally she decided to keep an open mind and see what came along. And, of course, I should keep an open mind about breeds, too, she reminded herself. Just because I’ve always had good experiences with Arabians and Arab crosses doesn’t mean they’re all that’s out there. Not that I’m going to seek out quarter horses or Shetland ponies, but it would be interesting to try out a few mustangs or Morgans or Appaloosas for a change.…

  She was so eager to get started that she could hardly sit still. Trying to distract herself, she tuned in to what the speaker, Ms. Norwood, was saying.

  “… and statistics show that more than half of all marriages will end in divorce,” the woman was saying, her apple-cheeked face somber as she waggled one finger warningly at her audience. “There are plenty of reasons for that. Sometimes one spouse leaves a marriage to be with someone else. But even when there’s no third party involved, there are a lot of factors that can come into play and drive emotions to the breaking point. Money issues. Disagreements about having and raising children. Lack of communication. Boredom. Growing apart. Jealousy. Even spouse abuse.”

  “I hear you, sister!” a loud voice came from near the back of the auditorium. “My wife is abusing me!”

  Stevie had only been half paying attention as she thought about her article, but she gasped when she recognized the voice that had spoken up. Spike!

  This is the last straw, she thought furiously, spinning around in her seat. Sure enough, Spike was standing on his seat near the rear entrance, a big, self-satisfied grin on his face as students all over the auditorium craned their necks to see him.

  Stevie leaped to her feet.

  “Stevie, wait,” Callie hissed, grabbing her arm. “Don’t let him get to you.”

  Stevie shook off her friend’s hand. That’s it, she thought grimly. He’s embarrassed me for the last time!

  She jumped onto her seat and raised her fist in the air. “I want a divorce!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  The auditorium erupted into pandemonium. After letting out her frustration and annoyance in one loud burst, Stevie immediately felt a lot better. She glanced around, a little surprised at the reaction her words had brought. A couple of rows away, Kenny Lamb and Moira Candell were arguing loudly and calling each other names. Across the aisle, Lorraine Olsen was complaining plaintively about how her partner cared more about surfing than he did about their relationship. Best of all, Veronica was standing up by her seat, yelling something about how Zach had only married her for her money and she wanted the marriage annulled due to geekiness.

  Stevie grinned. Cool, she thought. I guess Ms. Norwood was right when she said that stuff about driving emotions to the breaking point. It even works in fake marriages!

  A piercing whistle cut through the commotion. Miss Fenton was standing at the front of the stage, her thin face splotchy and red. “Silence!” she cried. “This is not a joke! I want you all to be silent, right now!’

  “I can’t be silent any longer!” a voice Stevie didn’t recognize shouted from the other side of the room. “My wife won’t listen to anything I say, and I won’t take it anymore!”

  “Me too,” a girl’s voice called out. “I would never marry a jerk like the one you matched me up with. He’s the exact opposite of my type, anyway. This project is ridiculous.”

  Miss Fenton’s face was turning redder and redder. She called for quiet a few more times, but it was hopeless. Students were shouting out complaints about their partners and the project from all directions. Ms. Norwood, still standing at the podium, gazed out at the students with undisguised horror.

  Stevie was a little surprised that so many people seemed to be unhappy with their matches. But it also made sense when she thought about it. It’s not like a random computer pairing is the way to find true romance, she thought. I mean, I would never in a million years end up with a major dork like Spike. And there’s no way someone like Veronica would get together with someone like Zach, either. Total mismatch.

  She glanced over at Callie and Corey, who were watching in astonishment as more and more shouting matches erupted all over the auditorium. Even Alex, who was sitting on Stevie’s other side, was arguing with Iris about all the money she was wasting on vitamin supplements and organic cat food.

  Then again, maybe that’s sort of the point, Stevie realized as she looked at Callie and Corey. They seemed like a great match in a lot of ways—they were both intelligent and likable and good-looking, and they seemed to g
et along great. As friends. But Stevie couldn’t imagine them ever getting married for real. People have to match up in a lot of ways. It’s not enough for two people just to be nice, or smart, or good-looking. It’s not even enough just being attracted to each other—though a lot of people I know seem to think that’s the only really important thing. Maybe that’s why so many couples that seem perfect together at first break up before long. I guess Phil and I are lucky that way. We got together because we had that instant attraction thing going for us. But we’ve stayed together because we’re a good match in lots of other ways, too.

  She was distracted from her thoughts by the sight of Wesley Ward, Spike’s soccer buddy, climbing up onto his seat in the front row and waving his arms. “Yo!” Wesley called, the neon green streak in his short, light brown hair gleaming beneath the auditorium lights. “Enough with the negativity, dudes!”

  The noise level fell slightly as people stopped arguing long enough to see what was going on. Even Miss Fenton stopped shouting for a moment.

  “What’s he up to?” Stevie muttered curiously.

  Callie shrugged, still looking a bit stunned at the outburst of anarchy. “Who knows?”

  Wesley reached down and pulled his fake wife, Nicole Adams, up onto the seat beside him. She giggled and smoothed back her shoulder-length blond hair, glancing around the auditorium and waving to a friend or two. Stevie noticed that a few guys in the row behind Nicole were leaning forward in their seats, obviously hoping to get a peek up her short flouncy skirt.

  Wesley held up his hand in a fist. “People!” he cried, slinging his free arm around Nicole’s waist. “Didn’t you ever hear the saying Make love, not war? We should all be trying to live up to our marriage vows, not break them!”

  “Yeah!” Nicole said with another giggle. “All it takes is the right attitude.”

  Stevie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right,” she muttered to Callie. “Nicole’s idea of the right attitude is going out with every guy who asks.”

  Wesley grinned down at Nicole. “My dear wife is right,” he agreed loudly. “And to prove our point …” He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her closer, locking his lips on hers. Nicole didn’t put up any protest. The two of them began making out enthusiastically as the entire auditorium erupted in whistles and cat calls.

  “Mr. Ward! Miss Adams!” Miss Fenton screeched ineffectually. “Stop that this instant!”

  But it was too late. Not only did Wesley and Nicole continue their very public display of affection, but several other couples immediately joined in the counterprotest.

  Stevie felt a little sorry for the headmistress, who was waving her arms around like a windmill in a typhoon, but she also couldn’t keep from laughing. “This is amazing!” she exclaimed, reaching for her notebook. “I’ve got to put this in my article. And I thought this project wasn’t going to make exciting news!”

  Callie and Corey chuckled, and Stevie glanced over at her brother with a grin to see if he’d heard. But Alex wasn’t looking at her. He was staring intently toward the front of the room. Following his gaze, Stevie saw that he was watching Wesley and Nicole, who were still going at it with gusto.

  Stevie frowned, suddenly remembering how Alex and Nicole had ended up together at that party when he and Lisa had briefly broken up. I wonder …, she thought with a stab of worry.

  But she quickly pushed the thought aside. Flipping open her notebook, she began scribbling furiously. She didn’t want to miss a single thing.

  Stevie was still frantically making notes as she walked down the hall to her fourth-period class an hour later. She’d had to rethink the whole focus of her article to work in what had happened that morning. But she was excited about the new direction.

  So this is what it’s like, she thought, pausing in the middle of the crowded hallway as she tried to recall exactly what Wesley had said just before he and Nicole had started lip wrestling. She wanted to make sure she got the quote right. I definitely see why people do this journalism stuff. You’ve always got to be on your toes or you might miss out on the story. And you’ve always got to be ready to change directions or you’ll get left behind. It’s exciting. It’s unpredictable. I totally love it!

  She started walking again and immediately stepped squarely on a large, sneakered foot, realizing a split second too late that someone had stopped right in front of her. Glancing up to apologize, she saw that it was Scott. “Oh!” she said. “Hi. Sorry about that. You didn’t need those toes, did you?”

  Scott grinned. “Nope. I’ve got a spare set on the other foot,” he joked. “So what’s keeping you so distracted, as if I didn’t know? I heard what happened in marriage class today.”

  Stevie nodded, glancing down at her notebook. “It was awesome,” she said. “Theresa’s going to love my article. As long as I can get it finished in time, that is. But it should be okay—I have a study hall fifth period, so I can get a lot of work done then.”

  “That’s great,” Scott said. “So are you still planning to go with the three-couples stuff, or—”

  “Can we talk about it later?” Stevie broke in, shooting him a quick, apologetic smile. “I really want to—”

  “No problem,” Scott replied before she could finish. “I should have known better than to interrupt an intrepid journalist in the middle of a hot streak. So go, be creative and brilliant.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll see you at Pine Hollow later and you can fill me in on the details.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Stevie smiled at him gratefully. It wasn’t until he’d hurried away with a jaunty wave that she realized just what he’d said.

  Is it just me, or has Scott been spending almost as much time at Pine Hollow lately as Callie has? she thought as she moved on toward her next class. And it’s not just showing up to drive her home or whatever. He’s actually been hanging out, even though he almost never actually rides. Huh. That’s kind of weird.

  But she didn’t have time to think about it just then. She could worry about Scott’s odd use of his free time later—after she finished her article.

  THIRTEEN

  Carole felt a twinge of guilt as she pulled her car to a stop in Pine Hollow’s gravel parking area. When Dad said I could go to the stable four times a week, he probably wasn’t expecting me to head over here the first three days in a row, she thought ruefully. Pulling her key from the ignition and opening the door, she shrugged and smiled. Then again, maybe he did expect it. He knows me pretty well

  Whatever her father thought of it, though, Carole hadn’t been able to resist coming to the stable that day after school. She knew she would be busy that weekend—she was already committed to spending most of Saturday and Sunday working with Hometown Hope—so she wanted to get some quality time in at Pine Hollow while she could.

  Pocketing her keys, she headed for the stable entrance, looking forward to a long session with Starlight.

  When she entered the building, several excited-looking intermediate riders were standing in the entryway talking with Red O’Malley, Pine Hollow’s head stable hand and Denise’s longtime boyfriend. Red looked a bit harried, and for a moment Carole was tempted to go over and offer to give him a hand with whatever crisis was brewing. But after a glance at her watch, she decided she didn’t have time. Her father was due home from his trip by three o’clock or so, which meant that Carole was going to have to walk in the door herself by five on the dot, or she could kiss their new arrangement good-bye. And she couldn’t stand that. The very thought of being banned from the stable again made her queasy.

  Giving Red a quick, only slightly guilty wave, Carole hurried past, heading straight for the tack room. She glanced into the office as she left a moment later with Starlight’s saddle and bridle, but it was empty.

  Soon she was buckling the throatlatch on her horse’s bridle. “There we are,” she told the horse as she tightened his noseband. “Almost ready to go. So what do you feel like doing today, boy? Want to practice our flatwork? Or maybe do a little jumping?
”

  Starlight snorted, which Carole interpreted to mean Whatever you want to do is fine with me. She smiled and rubbed the horse under his jaws before leading him down the aisle. It had been so long since she’d really been focused on the ongoing process of training her horse that she wasn’t sure where to start. She decided to solve that problem by doing a little of everything.

  “That way we’ll figure out what we need to work on,” she murmured as she led the big bay gelding out to the little-used west paddock, where they weren’t likely to be disturbed. “Plus it’ll be fun.”

  She was right about that. For the next hour, she put everything out of her mind except her horse. They practiced their reverses, they worked on extension and collection for a while, they even did a little jumping over some low cross rails. It felt wonderful to spend that much time in the saddle thinking about nothing but her horse. This is what I’ve been missing so much, she thought as Starlight sailed easily over the jump, tossing his head on landing as if expressing how much he, too, was enjoying himself. This is why I can never let myself get banned from the stable again. She knew that one of the surest ways to avoid that was never to miss her two-hour curfew.

  All too soon, it was time to head inside. As she reluctantly pulled up and started walking her horse around the paddock to cool him down, she realized that it had been a long time since she’d been able to enjoy a nice long session like the one she’d just had with Starlight without having to worry about squeezing her own riding in between doing chores, teaching riding lessons, waiting for the grain delivery, and the million and one other things she had to worry about as a member of Pine Hollow’s small staff.

  It’s kind of nice to be able to relax and not think about that kind of stuff, now that I’m not working here anymore, she thought as she led Starlight toward the paddock gate. Maybe that should be telling me something about which career is right for me. Do I really want to do something where I’m going to end up caring for lots of horses like Max does as a riding instructor and stable manager? Or would I be better off riding and training one or just a few horses, like I would if I decided to become a competitive rider?