Seasons of Love (Witches of Warren County)

by Summer Donnelly

  Gray grinned and for a moment, Holly thought maybe her heart was going to be in danger of falling for a certain lanky boy who liked 90s grunge music. She shook it off, though, as a ridiculous idea. Gray James represented her ticket to help save another horse.

  <<<>>>

  “You’re one of the Old Families, aren’t you?” Gray asked as they settled in front of the fire with a pair of ice cold sodas.

  “You don’t want a beer?” she asked.

  “I’m in the mood for a soda,” Gray said. He lifted the bright red can and saluted her silver one.

  Holly sat for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the bonfire and the camaraderie of her classmates. Despite being born in Harper’s Mill, she wasn’t popular like these kids. Lights seldom were because they kept to themselves most of the time. She hoped if she waited Gray out, he’d forget about his question.

  Instead, he nudged her with his knee. “Talk,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Holly said, rolling her eyes. “Well, my mom is. I wasn’t raised with the family, though.”

  “But still,” Gray said. “You’re a Light. That must mean something.”

  “To some people, yeah, I guess,” Holly said, conceding the point. “But not to me. I don’t have any intention of marrying the first boy to ask and popping out babies every other year until I’m thirty or he dies.”

  Gray tilted his head. “You sound angry. Is that what happened to your mom?”

  “I don’t know. But I’ve seen it with my aunts. My dad died when I was little,” Holly said with a sigh. Getting to know someone was harder than it looked on paper, especially when you had to reveal things about yourself. “He was larger than life and loved to do crazy things. That seems to be a plus for Lights. The crazier the challenge, the more they like it.”

  “And you’re a quiet mousy type?”

  “I am not mousy,” Holly said, frowning. “And don’t make your German tutor mad.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I have vays of confusing, ja,” she said in her best cheesy German accent.

  “Not mousy,” Gray agreed. “Bookish?” he tried again.

  “Bookish. I can live with that.”

  “So, what kind of a boy would you like to date?”

  “Just. You know. A boy. Someone content to live in the Mill. Someone who makes me laugh. Who cares about the things I care about.”

  Gray was silent for a moment. “What was it like, growing up as one of the Old Families?”

  Holly considered his words and thought of telling him the easy story. That it had been fabulous being related to a family of witches with the power to sew charms into quilts and sense the history of an object through touch. She was tired of the lies, though.

  “Okay, I guess,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like I knew any other way to grow up, but sometimes the pressure gets to me. It’s easier because my last name isn’t Light.” She nodded towards her cousin who was busy crashing beer cans into his forehead to the delight of a laughing audience.

  Holly took a deep sigh and let the wall around her drop. “Lights keep to themselves. Never ask for help. Don’t even really like seeing the doctor. My dad liked to ride snowmobiles through the open fields in the middle of a snow storm. That was his thing.”

  Holly smiled a little wistfully. “My favorite memory was when I was little. I had just turned three and there was a nor’easter that hit and we got dumped with snow. My dad woke me up, bundled me, and we went out to the Tristan farm and kicked up fresh snow for hours. Or what felt like hours,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “For all I know, it was only twenty minutes.”

  Gray lifted his hand and pressed hers between his. “That’s a beautiful memory. What happened to your dad?”

  “When I was five, he was out riding his dirt bike through the abandoned railroad trails. No one is quite sure what happened, but there was an accident and he died.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gray said, squeezing her hand in solidarity. “That must have been terrible for you and your mom.”

  Holly wiped at her tears with her free hand. “It was. Mom was a wreck. We moved back to Lightville,” she said, referring to the area on Polk Road where the Lights had lived for generations.

  “Do you have the Light talent for psychometry?”

  Holly opened her mouth to answer but closed it again and shook her head. “Now you,” she invited. “Why so much anger at your dad?”

  “He thinks he knows best. A Princeton education. Study abroad. The perfect internship. Everything I need to create me in his image.”

  “And you don’t want that?”

  “God, no,” Gray answered. “Sitting in a classroom drives me crazy. I hate it. I couldn’t even imagine doing another four years of college, let alone working in an office somewhere for the rest of my life.”

  “You’ll need to figure out something to do after high school, though, right?”

  “I guess,” Gray said. “I guess I just haven’t given it too much thought. I’m too young to know what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

  “We graduate in a year.”

  Gray shrugged. “I guess. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I should go home,” she said. “Life on a horse farm starts pretty early.”

  Gray stood and offered her his hand. “I’ll walk you down,” he said. “I should probably head out, too. I apparently have a tutoring date tomorrow.” He placed his warm hand on her low back and Holly liked how his hand felt warm. Friendly. Possessive.

  As Holly got into the little Honda her folks had given her, she had to mentally shake herself. This was about working for the rescue and tutoring Gray. There was not dating involved.

  <<<>>>

  Saturday afternoon, as promised, Gray drove up to the big house. They had an hour of studying planned and then dinner with her folks. But first, a tour of the barn.

  She was on the back verandah, enjoying the spring sun. “Hey,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “You made it,” she said with a smile. “Would you like something to drink before we head down to the barn?”

  “A soda would be great,” Grey said, accepting the ice cold can.

  Holly smiled and Gray was struck by just how pretty she was. Her golden-brown eyes were mostly hidden behind glasses, but they glowed with peaceful intelligence. And he found he liked that. Immensely.

  As they walked to the barn, Holly explained what her step-father did. “Mostly, he does some boarding. Lessons. Trail rides. His barn manager Zack has been a great asset.”

  “Isn’t that Kel Parker?” Gray asked. “From school?”

  Holly narrowed her eyes and scanned the people coming in and out of the barn. “Oh, yeah. There he is with his girlfriend, January. January is Zack’s daughter. They’re here on the farm a lot.”

  “Hey guys,” January said, smiling at Holly and Gray. “Today is equine massage therapy day, so you can guess where Kel is.”

  “Following Jewels around,” Holly guessed. They entered the barn where several horses looked out of their stalls, reminding Holly of towels hanging from a clothesline. She smiled a greeting at the painted pony closest to the barn door.

  Jewel, the equissage therapist on staff joined them. “Holly, I’m so glad you’re here. I want to take a look at Heart.”

  “Oh, Jewels, you know I love you and what you do, but I don’t have the money to pay you for Heart to be seen,” Holly said, blushing with the admission.

  “Who is Heart?” January asked. “Is he new? Why haven’t I met him? Can I come with?”

  Put on the spot, Holly led the group away from the main barn. “Heart is a rescue. He’s a fifteen-hand six-year-old gelding that I was able to get before a kill buyer got him,” Holly explained.

  “There are so many shades of brown,” Gray said. “I had no idea. I guess I thought all horses looked mostly alike.” He looked behind himself one last time to look.

  “Yeah, fifty shades of brown,” January said with a
smirk.

  “This is Heart,” Holly introduced.

  “Oh, the poor baby,” January said in a hushed tone. She walked up to the severely underfed horse. January’s eyes filled with tears as she slowly reached out to stroke the horse’s unruly forelock. “How are you doing, handsome?” she asked, her voice kept soothing and low. Heart bobbed his head and greeted her. “Now I see where you get your name, sweet boy. I love your heart-shaped star.”

  “What did they do to you, big guy?” Kel asked, keeping his voice in a sing-song tone. Anger flashed briefly in his eyes, but he kept his voice calm and gentle. “You’re in good hands here, Mr. Heart and if Jewels and Holly will let me, I’d love to help with your care, too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple for Heart to enjoy.

  Gray paused, his eyes going wide as multiple things dawned on him. This group of friends was bonded in a way he had never experienced before. As they oohed and awwed over the malnourished gelding, he felt the tensile nature of their bond growing.

  “Please let me work on him,” Jewel begged. “My gift to you for all you’re doing to help rescue these guys.”

  Holly hugged her. “Thank you, Jewels. I do this because I love it and I’m thankful Todd has given me the resources to help. I can only do one horse at a time, though.” Tears filled her hazel eyes. “I want to do more and sometimes I think I’m not doing anything at all, you know? Like, what good is it if I rescue and rehab one or two horses a year if I’m letting hundreds more die scared and alone in a slaughter house?”

  Kel approached Holly. “I’m a Parker, Holly. You know that means I can’t tell a lie, right?”

  Holly nodded. The Parkers were another of the Old Families and their gift was to be the most trusted voice in any conversation. They were completely unable to tell any lies or falsehoods.

  “There are thousands of animals in need of rescue and you’re only one person. All of that is true.” Kel took her by the shoulders and together they faced Heart’s stall. “But what you’re doing here, today, has helped this beautiful boy. What you do matters to him.”

  Gray felt shame as he realized why Holly needed the money from his father. This wasn’t just a job for her. She didn’t need another pair of shoes or a large data package for her phone. She rescued abused horses. It was both her passion and her calling.

  After a few more minutes with Heart, Holly left Jewel to work with the gelding and continued Gray’s tour.

  “I had no idea so much went into taking care of horses,” Gray said. He snorted. “I guess I never really considered it before.”

  “It’s a lot, but when you do what you love, it’s hard to think of it as work.”

  “We ready for our lesson?” Gray asked. If she was going to help him pass his junior year, he decided, the least he could do was be a willing student.

  “Yep,” Holly said, handing him a sheet of paper as they sat around the table on the verandah. “Today we are going to review irregular verbs.”

  “You have a gift for language. Wasn’t there an announcement the other day about a study abroad program this summer? You should apply for it,” Gray said.

  “Yeah, I saw that. I’d love to. Fraulein told me I have a gift with languages. A chance to spend three weeks in Europe would be a dream come true.”

  “Then apply,” Gray said.

  “It’s not that easy. I’m a Light, Gray. We don’t really go places or do things.

  Gray stroked his chin, his inquisitive brown eyes studying her. “Sounds like you’re the one holding yourself back, not your last name.”

  Holly paused, recognizing his truth but not having anything to say in return. “Verbs,” she said, tapping her book with one finger. “Let’s get back to verbs.”

  After an hour of studying, Holly showed Gray where to clean up and went to help her mom with dinner.

  “What are we having tonight, Mom?” Holly asked. She picked up the plates her mother set out and began setting the table.

  “Pork chops and broccoli,” Kelly said as she removed them from the frying pan. “Can you pull the macaroni and cheese out of the oven, sweetheart?”

  “Sure thing, Mom,” Holly said, brushing a kiss across Kelly’s cheek. “I love your mac and cheese.”

  Gray joined them, still damp from his shower. “Thank you for inviting me for dinner, Mrs. Farraday,” he said. “Everything smells delicious.”

  “We’re glad to have you, Gray. I always like meeting Holly’s friends,” Kelly said. Holly blushed and looked at her feet.

  Kelly handed Gray a pitcher of water. “Could you put that on the table for me, please?”

  “Here,” Holly said handing Gray a trivet with a towel over it. “We don’t want the condensation to ruin the table.” Their hands met for a moment and a tingle of sensation pulsed up through Holly’s arm and down the rest of her body. Gray must have felt it, too, because, for a hushed moment, they simply looked at each other. Hands touching. Breath bated. Holly licked her lips, caught in the casual helpless moment.

  The bubble of awareness dissolved when Todd Farraday entered the dining room and startled them apart. Holly looked away from Gray and tucked her hands behind her back. “Hey, Todd,” Holly greeted. “Todd, this is Gray James. I’m his German tutor.”

  “Hi, Mr. Farraday,” Gray said. Todd nodded to the younger man.

  “Smells good,” Todd said and took his place at the head of the table.

  After the platters of food had been passed around, Gray watched the others before picking up his knife and fork to cut into his pork chop. Holly tilted her head, curious over his almost tentative manner. Was the confident Gray James actually feeling insecure?

  But as Gray cut into the pork chop, he applied a little too much pressure. The chop slid off his plate, taking a healthy amount of broccoli with it and a glob of macaroni and cheese that went air born. Gray watched in horrified fascination as the morsel flew across the table and into Todd’s lap.

  Silence reigned for a long beat. Then two. Holly choked on a laugh, earning a stern glance from her mother.

  Todd looked up, his face impassive. “I’m afraid Miss Manners doesn’t have a go-to reaction during an accidental food fight.” The barest hint of humor glinted in his eyes. “It was accidental, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gray said, ducking his head. “I. Uh. I’ll be more careful, sir.”

  Todd smiled and the atmosphere around the table relaxed.

  Todd’s cell phone went off. He cast an apologetic look at his wife before swiping his phone open. He stared at whatever message he received and then put the phone back in his pocket.

  “Todd? What’s wrong? You seem distracted?” Kelly asked after a few minutes of eating.

  “A Tennessee Walker was just put up for auction,” Todd said, frowning as he played with the macaroni and cheese on his plate. “I think I’m going to buy him.”

  “Oh.”

  “What does that mean?” Holly asked. “I get you’re going to buy a horse. But what else?”

  “We don’t generally do Walkers. I board and have trail rides for folks. But I’ve always had a soft spot for Tennessee Walkers. This one was used as a show horse and is probably in pretty rough shape.”

  “Why do you say that, Mr. Farraday?” Gray asked, his brow furrowed.

  Todd pinched the bridge of his nose. “When I was coming up, I worked for a while on a training ranch for Walkers. And that’s when I learned about soring.”

  Holly and Gray exchanged a confused look. “What does that mean?” Gray asked. “I’ve never heard the term before.”

  “It’s illegal now. Or supposed to be, but like most things, if people think they can get away with it, they do. Soring is the use of any product that will cause pain to the front feet and legs of a horse. So, when they touch the ground they kick up higher to avoid the pain.”

  “That’s barbaric! How am I only hearing about this now?” Holly asked.

  “Sometimes kerosene is applied to the pasterns. Or they
’ll use a performance package which stacks nails and weight to the shoe. It’s then tightened with a band across the hoof to hold it all. They call that pressure soring. Then the bastards steward the poor horse. Will actually hit him with a cattle prod if he flinches with the pain. That’s to get the horse through inspection.”

  Gray was horrified. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “They think the pain to the horse exaggerates that big lick kick they get out of them in the shows. I mean, they’re right. The horses do pick up their front feet higher and faster than they would do naturally.

  “Because they’re in pain!” Gray was furious. Anger at the abuse of the innocent horses pulsed through him. He pushed back his seat. “Excuse me,” he said. “I. This is terrible.” He paced around the dining room as adrenaline pushed through his body. He turned to look Todd. “How can I help? I mean, I’m no one special and I don’t know anything about horses. But I want to help. Tell me how. Please?”

  A look of shrewd intelligence passed across Todd’s face. “What are you doing Saturday? You can come with me to the auction.”

  “I’ll be there,” Gray said. He looked at Holly. “If it’s okay with my tutor?”

  “I’m so there,” Holly said. “You aren’t doing this without me.”

  Todd nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Now, sit down and finish your dinner, son.”

  >>><<<

  The Saturday of the auction dawned clear and warm. The cerulean blue of the endless sky was broken up only by the bright heat of the sun.

  The day, Gray decided, was an absolute contrast to the sights and smells of the auction. He’d expected the smell of manure. And if that was the only fragrance of the day, he’d have been fine. But it wasn’t. Instead, the air was permeated with a kind of sad acceptance. If hopelessness had a scent, it would smell like an end of the line livestock auction.

  Todd paid his fee and they went around the pens, looking at the animals.

  “I want to save them all,” Holly whispered, tears in her throat.