I tugged up my jeans and shrugged on a long-sleeved shirt, buttoning it one-handed, grabbing an elastic band from the doorknob with the other. I didn’t even bother combing my hair, just ran my fingers through the tangles, and pulled it back, looping the hair band several times around it. I snatched my jacket from the hook behind the door, pulling it on as I ran to the kitchen, grabbed an apple from the bowl filled with assorted fruit on the counter, and shoved it into my jacket pocket.
Passing the living room, I saw the mess of scattered, broken china on the floor in front of the hutch. Mom stood at the edge of the room, shaking her head. I could almost feel her anguish at the sight in front of her. With her hands clasped together, fingers folded into the soft peach Angora wool of her sweater, she crushed the collar close to her chin as if it was a security blanket; maybe it was to her. My dad had given her that sweater last Christmas and she wore it all the time.
“Sorry, Mom.” I wanted to comfort her but she waved me on, not even looking at me. The china set, an heirloom from my mother’s family, passed down for five generations, would have one day belonged to Ambrosia or me. Well, that decision was no longer an issue. At that moment, I realized nothing lasts forever. Particularly porcelain china.
The smell of hay mixed with horse manure assaulted my nose when I strolled into the stable no less than two minutes later. Most people cringe at that smell, but I embraced it. It meant I was near Big Blue.
The radio announcer’s voice blared throughout the stable, talk of the earthquake dominating the conversation. San Joaquin, the epicenter of the 6.9 quake, experienced major damage. The destruction was devastating and still under assessment. Reports of buckled highways and multiple car pile-ups made me cringe; so many people trapped in their cars and presumed dead. Several cars plummeted into the delta when the bridge collapsed down around Antioch. The man on the radio said they didn’t have the total death toll yet. Most of the surrounding towns, like ours, only experienced minor damage with broken windows here and there, and several stores’ merchandise had toppled over, requiring major cleanup. And, oh yeah, school was closed for the entire next week.
I walked past my dad who’d already shoveled most of the hay into the trough, and headed straight to Big Blue’s stall.
“Adela, don’t go in there yet. He’s very skittish and he might stomp on you by accident. I’m going to give Courtland Reese a call. I want him to check out Blue before you ride him. That is, if he hasn’t already been solicited by another rancher around here.”
“Dad, seriously? Courtland Reese? Come on. I know Big Blue better than anyone. I can handle him, can’t I big boy?” I said as I got closer to my horse.
Courtland Reese was the boy everyone at school hated and made fun of because of his freakish connection to animals. Well, Max hated him, mostly. Everyone else just went along with whatever Max said.
I reached over the gate and placed my hand on Blue’s head and he reared back, flaring his nostrils as if he didn’t know me. I recoiled in shock.
No. Big Blue can’t do this. He’s my baby. I had been there when he was born, the very first person he’d seen as he lay there covered in that white gooey-looking transparent sac. It gave his midnight black coat a bluish tint. I’ll never forget Dr. Showbert, the veterinarian, saying Blue was the largest colt he had ever seen. I knew from that very moment what I would call him.
“Shhhh. Big Blue, shhhh. That’s it. Come on, it’s okay,” I coaxed in my softest persuasive voice as Big Blue inched closer to the gate and let me stroke his beautiful black face. I gently traced the white diamond on his forehead, a gesture he always seemed to love, and a bubbling thrill tingled throughout my blood when he nuzzled my cheek.
I was pleased that Blue let me pet him, but my mind seethed with anger over the prospect of Courtland Reese handling my horse, a guy my own age. A boy Max despised. A boy who was the talk of every rancher within ten miles of Pleasant Ridge. He always seemed different than other boys, standoffish, and he looked a bit older than the rest of the guys in school. It was rumored—if you paid attention to those sorts of things—that Courtland had some weird ability to communicate with animals, particularly horses. Back in elementary school kids made fun of him, calling him “Dr. Doolittle” and freak. Not so much anymore though, now that we were all seniors and way too cool for such immature behavior—well, most of us. Max still referred to him as “Freakazoid.” Courtland was also half Miwok Native American and most people said that was where he got his strange ability. I think a lot of the kids regarded him as being scary and unapproachable more than anything else. He was quiet and didn’t socialize much, which didn’t help his reputation. I’d always thought he had a certain bad-boy look—sort of a leftover hot guy from that movie, “The Outsiders.” Yeah, I’m an 80’s movie nerd.
Certain that I could do better than Courtland, I smiled and nuzzled Big Blue right back. Courtland Reese had nothing compared to this kind of love. Big Blue was mine and nobody could ever soothe him the way I could. “See, Dad? Big Blue is fine. We don’t need Courtland.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Courtland. All I really knew about the guy was what Max told me. Maxen Wendell, my best friend, future boyfriend and husband, only he didn’t know it yet, was an excellent judge when it came to sizing up people—being, after all, the most popular boy in the school.
Max called Courtland a pansy and insisted that anyone with as much sweetness as Courtland spewed forth must be a mama’s boy. I’d thought about pointing out that Courtland’s mother died several years ago so he couldn’t possibly be a mama’s boy, but it really wasn’t something worth starting an argument over. I wasn’t even sure about the sweetness part; he didn’t look very sweet to me. He frowned a lot and never spoke to me unless I said something to him, which rarely ever happened, mostly because we really had nothing in common, except for our love of animals. I didn’t want him near Big Blue, but my father seemed to think Courtland Reese had what it took to make or break a good stud like my horse.
“Well, I’m calling him anyway,” my dad said, interrupting my thoughts. “There are other animals around here besides Blue that could use a bit of calming.”
Convinced that Big Blue was steady and unflustered, I trucked back inside the house to help pick up china with my mom, another spirit in dire need of appeasement.
Mom sniffled as she swept up shattered pieces of china and my heart felt as broken as Mom’s dishes; not for the china, but for my mother. She put so much stock in preserving the past. Personally, I didn’t see the importance but respected the fact that she did.
“Sorry, Mom.” I didn’t really know what else to say to her so I grabbed another dustpan and broom.
Angelica Castielle, the ever-protective angel, shooed me away. “Careful, honey. I’m afraid you’ll cut yourself. I’ll finish sweeping this up. Why don’t you go help with the twins instead? Could you get them dressed and give them some cereal?” Did it bother me that my mother would, on occasion treat me like a twelve-year-old? Yeah, but this particular time I was thankful to be away from her sniffling over broken antique porcelain.
“Sure.” I forced a smile and headed toward the twins’ room. I’d rather help them figure out what they were going to wear anyway. My siblings’ choices of clothing never failed to amuse me. Ambrosia always wanted to mimic Aaron. She was no doubt slated to be the next great tomboy in our small town of Pleasant Ridge, following in my very own footsteps. In fact, I still wanted to do everything Max did. I’d been following him around most of my life. Max is the one and only child of Julie and Carl Wendell, owners of the Wendell Winery, the second largest vineyard in Pleasant Ridge, California. My parents provided Max with free riding lessons from the time he’d been ten years old. They also allowed him to board his horse, Misty, a golden mare, in our stable in exchange for some great—from what I’d heard—wine. Max joked that Misty had the hots for Big Blue. Hell, he might’ve been right.
As I rounded the corner, I smiled at the usual banter co
ming from the twins’ room. I paused at the doorway and shrieked when I saw Ambrosia sporting a plastic baseball bat in her hands ready to swing it at Aaron’s head.
“Ambrosia, don’t you dare hit Aaron with that bat! Give that to me. Do you want to put your brother in the hospital?”
Ambrosia dropped the bat as if it suddenly acquired some magical power and singed her hands. Sitting on the lower bed, she pulled the pink comforter up to her chin, and shook her head, her reddish brown curls dangling over her face and down her back. “He called me a baby because I cried when the earthcrack happened this morning,” she confessed with an angelic pout.
“Earthquake,” I corrected and looked at my little brother. “Aaron, I cried too. Does that make me a baby?” Well, I hadn’t exactly cried, but almost and he didn’t need to know that.
Aaron scrunched his eyebrows together, jumped off the bed and stood, shooting his fists straight up in the air. His identical reddish brown curls fluffed around his head, and a thin red blanket tied around his upper chest hung down his back. Mom made sure he knew never to tie anything around his neck and he took it literally. “Don’t worry, I will protect you. Me and Dad. We’re the mans of this family.”
“Well, I feel much better now, don’t you, Ambie?” Ambrosia rolled her eyes and giggled. I’d taken to calling her that when I found out that Ambrosia meant immortal. Why my mom insisted on giving all of us names starting with the letter A eluded me. She and my dad had the same initials too, ARC, and they thought it would be cute if the entire family had the same. Actually, I thought it gave us all some sort of bond. Something that connected us, more than just blood.
“Let’s see, what do you guys want to wear today?”
“Mama said we didn’t have school today ‘cause of the earthcrack,” Aaron pouted.
“Right.”
“When can we go back to school?” he asked.
“Stupid earthcracks. I don’t like them.” Ambrosia jumped off the bed, standing stiff with her arms crossed over her chest and sticking out her bottom lip, while Aaron stood at her side, a mirror image.
“Yeah, stupid earthcracks,” he mimicked.
“In about a week, I guess.” I handed Aaron a pair of jeans and a blue shirt I pulled from his drawer. “Here, put these on. Ambrosia, you have a blue shirt, don’t you? Oh here it is,” I said, rummaging through the messy drawer that my mom will no doubt have a fit over. That is, if she ever gets over the mess in the rest of the house.
“Who’s here?” Aaron asked at the sound of a knock on the front door.
“Probably that obnoxious Courtland guy. Daddy wants him to help soothe the horses,” I said with a sigh.
He’s not noxious. He’s nice and handsome, like Daddy. I want to marry him when I grow up.” Ambrosia twirled around, holding her clothes out in front of her so they flowed through the air.
“You’re stupid.” Aaron rolled his eyes and laughed.
“Shhh. Both of you get dressed; I’ll go tell him Daddy’s in the stable.”
I strolled toward the door, glancing in the living room on my way. The vacuum roared with an occasional crunching sound as my mother pushed the beast over and over the area in front of the hutch.
I opened the door to find Courtland Reese. His already broad shoulders seemed huge in that dark green hoodie zipped half-way up his chest, revealing a dark blue and black checkered shirt. I’d seen him wear that shirt before and as I remembered, it had tight short sleeves that made him look rather tough the way his muscles peeked out from the hem of the sleeve, not like the freaky weird guy everyone claimed he was. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and gave me an almost dangerous-looking half smile then looked down at his feet. He shifted from one foot to the other, sticking both hands in his pockets before glancing back at me with vibrant green eyes. I’d never been this close to him before and I suddenly felt like I’d forgotten to get dressed. I’d never noticed his eyes before or the way they could make me feel so defenseless. He kept glancing around the front yard like he was looking for something. Why did he always act like there were a million and one things he’d rather be doing than talking to me? Well, the feeling was mutual, I’m sure.
His dog Shiloh, on the other hand, a black mixed lab, took a step forward, melting my heart. Wanting my attention, she wagged her tail fast enough to knock a small child across the porch and nuzzled the palm of my hand, her wet cold nose sliming my fingers. I smiled at the feeling and looked up into Courtland’s eyes that lingered on me for a few seconds before he averted them back to the ground once again.
“Ah, is your dad home?”
I nodded, unable to find my voice. Why was it again Max hated Courtland?
“He called me to come over to check on the horses,” Courtland said, his eyes squinting in a frown.
Now I was the one studying the cracks in the old red-painted concrete porch my dad had been threatening to remodel with wood decking since we’d moved there eight years ago. Why anyone would paint concrete is beyond me. What’s wrong with plain gray? I mean, everybody knows it’s concrete.
“He’s over at the stable,” I said, managing to locate my voice somewhere down past my esophagus, the statement so curt, I even surprised myself.
“Thanks.” He turned and headed down the pathway.
“Wait,” I shouted, not sure what I wanted to say. I wasn’t about to apologize for my rudeness, that’s for sure, but I didn’t want him to mess with Big Blue. I wanted to be the one to calm him and talk to him. Big Blue was my horse and I didn’t see the need to have some weird freak whisper in my horse’s ear. If anybody was going to do any whispering to Big Blue, it was going to be me, no matter what my dad said.
He turned and stared at me; the cool morning breeze blew his thick dark hair into his eyes. He brushed the strands away with long slender fingers and for the first time, I noticed that his eyes were not only green but the deepest shade of emerald I’d ever seen.
“Yeah?” he said coolly.
“Um …what exactly are you going to do?”
His lip curved up on one side. “Well, I don’t know yet. I’ll have to ask the horses what they want.”
I blinked. “Oh,” was all I could think to say to such an odd statement and he turned and walked away. Shiloh pushed her nose against my hand one more time before turning to follow Court. What did he mean, “ask the horses?” At this, I ran to my room to put on my riding boots. I wanted to be there when Courtland asked Big Blue that question. I chuckled at the image of Big Blue neighing and shaking his head in my direction, indicating it was me he wanted. I glanced in the mirror on my way to the closet and froze.
Did I really just answer the door looking like this? My shirt was buttoned crooked; the last button was completely undone. I hadn’t even brushed my hair before pulling it back into a ponytail and it was all bumpy and lumpy with tons of escaped strands sticking out.
I yanked the elastic from my hair, cringing at the broken strands that came with it, ran the brush through the tangles, smoothed out the knots, and pulled it back into a neater ponytail this time. I tugged off my shirt and pulled on a grey sweater instead. It had been a little nippy outside and besides, the sweater stopped short of the silver embroidery on the flaps of the back pockets of my jeans, which accentuated the little curve of my never-to-be-perfect bottom—not like my mom’s. I think I must have inherited some ancestor of hers butt instead or some relative who’d not had much in that area. Kicking off the old brown boots my dad referred to as my shit-kickers, I opened the closet door to get my black riding boots and screamed.
Chapter 2
~~ Courtland ~~
I moped my way to the stable, kicking at almost every rock I saw along the way. Shiloh trotted beside me and leapt after several of them. What a freakin’ douche. I’d been totally tongue whipped. Good thing Adela couldn’t read my mind. When she opened the door, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. What a sight. I had to keep my eyes from hers in order to refrain from laughing. As beautiful
as she was, this morning she was a mixture of sweet and ruffled. Not the normal Angel I’d come to covet. But then, we don’t have major earthquakes every morning, so I guess I could understand her appearance. I bet she threw those clothes on in a hurry to get to her horse.
Adela’s dad was pitching hay in the back of the stable when I entered. He looked up and smiled at me, a huge welcoming grin, and I instantly felt at ease.
“Hey, Courtland. Am I glad to see you!”
“Hey, Mr. Castielle.” I waved my hand and made my way to the first stall where Adela’s horse, Big Blue, stood. He stepped back and snorted at me as I approached. His breathing quickened and his neck muscles stiffened as he raised his head—a sure sign that he was anxious.
Mr. Castielle walked over to us, careful to keep his distance. “When I came in here this morning, Blue’s ears were pinned back and his muscles seemed mighty tense. Adela was able to calm him some, but I still want you to see what you can do for him as well as Misty over there.”
I glanced over at Misty, Max’s horse, and nodded at Mr. Casteille. If I didn’t care so much for animals, I wouldn’t give Misty the time of day, knowing she was his horse. But I knew deep down that Misty really had no choice in who she belonged to and thank God she didn’t have the same personality as her owner.
I stretched out my hand toward Big Blue with my palm open and he walked forward a little bit, but he was swishing his tail, showing me his agitation. I noticed him grinding his teeth so I grabbed an apple out of the basket on the ground next to his stall and held it out to him. He was hesitant at first, but soon started to nibble. I petted his side and he began to relax, resting his rear foot with the tip barely touching the ground. “That’s it, boy. All the ruckus is over. No more shaking and rumbling.” At least for now. I was certain there would be aftershocks.
Reflections Page 27