She brushed past him and headed for the crowded dance floor, doing her best to ignore the hurt expression on his face.
Meanwhile, Carole was leaning against the rough wooden side wall of Samson’s stall. She had been with the big black horse since leaving Lisa in the tack room a short while earlier, and as usual, just being in his presence made her feel a little calmer about things.
But that still didn’t mean she knew what to do about her problem. “This is so hard,” she said, speaking more to herself than to the horse. Samson’s usual high energy had been lowered by their earlier workout, and he was standing quietly, chewing on a mouthful of hay while she watched him. “I really don’t think I can decide this. It’s too hard.”
The horse clearly didn’t have any answers for her, and Carole fell silent again, simply letting herself get caught up in watching him. It seemed so natural to stand there and look at the big black gelding, be with him, plan their next ride together. It felt natural and right and completely fulfilling. He was everything a horse could be and then some. In just two weeks she would ride him in the Colesford Horse Show, and after that, who knew what challenges waited on the horizon? The future seemed limitless with a horse so talented.
But it wasn’t only Samson’s show potential that thrilled her. It was Samson himself. She had been crazy about him since the moment he was born, and the better she got to know his courageous, willing spirit, the more she loved him. It was inconceivable that her future wouldn’t involve him.
But it was equally inconceivable that it wouldn’t contain Starlight. “I’ve got to go, fella,” Carole whispered, stepping forward to give Samson a pat. “I’ll see you later, okay?” He lifted his head from his hayrack and turned to blink at her. She smiled at the curious, sleepy expression on his face. Then, after giving him a few more pats, she let herself out into the stable aisle.
Starlight was sleeping when she reached his stall. “Hey, boy,” she called softly from the aisle, not wanting to startle him.
He snorted and awakened instantly, moving forward to greet her as eagerly as always. She smiled as he shoved his big head over the half door and nuzzled at her shirt, obviously looking for treats.
“Sorry, boy,” she said, rubbing his face and then pushing it back gently as she let herself into the stall. “No apples today.” Once inside, she slipped her arms around his neck for a quick hug. “Maybe next time, okay?”
Pulling back, Carole ran her hand down the length of her horse’s sleek, muscular back. His mahogany coat glowed with good health, and his glossy black mane lay smoothly along his slightly arched neck. Moving around to his front, she scratched him in his favorite places, taking in the familiar off-kilter shape of the white star splashed on his forehead and his bright, inquisitive, friendly eyes.
“You’re such a good guy,” Carole told Starlight softly, brushing a piece of straw out of his forelock. “You’re such a big old good-hearted guy.”
I remember the first day I saw him, she thought, smiling slightly at the memory. I scratched him on the face to reassure him, and he nuzzled my neck.
Starlight butted her shoulder with his nose, as if remembering that day along with her, and she automatically reached up to scratch him again in his favorite spot. He sighed with pleasure and let his eyelids droop, drooling slightly on her arm.
Carole bit her lip. Now that she had started this trip down memory lane, more special moments flooded into her mind. She thought about the way Judy Barker had tricked her into riding the gelding across the fields from his old stable to Pine Hollow, keeping the wonderful secret that Carole’s father had already bought the horse for her as a Christmas gift. When Carole had found out the truth, she had been so overwhelmed that she’d hardly been able to believe it at first. She had wanted a horse of her very own for so long, and knowing that her dream had finally come true—and in such a wonderful way—had been one of the best moments of her life.
Tonight, being with her horse felt as comfortable as always. But was he still helping her grow as a rider, still changing her life? Or was there something missing now, something she had rediscovered with Samson?
I can’t imagine my life without Starlight, she thought, stroking her horse’s smooth cheek with her fingertips. But it’s not right to keep him around just because I can’t bear to let go and move on.
“You deserve a rider who’s going to put you first,” she murmured. She moved to stand directly in front of the horse, grabbed his big face in both hands, and looked at him steadily. “You’re no second banana.”
Starlight pricked his ears toward her curiously and snorted. Carole drank in the sight of him, memorizing every curve and angle of his head for the millionth time.
A moment later she felt something drip onto her arm, and she realized that tears were running down her cheeks. That was when she knew she’d made her decision.
TEN
“Ugh,” Callie said, wrinkling her nose with distaste as she yanked something unidentifiable out of the drain of the kitchen sink. “It’s times like this that I really wish Dad was still a lowly state legislator. It seems like we didn’t have to do nearly as many disgusting chores back then.”
Scott glanced up from scrubbing the stove top and chuckled. “I know what you mean,” he said. “He’s so hyped on the idea of us being a ‘normal’ family that it’s practically abnormal. I’d hate to think what he’d want us to do if he ever decided to run for president.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “It’s hard to believe you can still laugh after what happened last night at the dance.” She’d been feeling a bit grumpy all morning, and she suspected that her bad mood had sprung mostly from her own guilt about the way she had treated George the evening before. After her encounter with Veronica, Callie had managed to keep herself so busy dealing with Scott’s problems that she hadn’t spent any more time alone with George. With Scott’s help, she’d even been able to dodge the whole issue of a good-night kiss. Still, judging by the way George had stared longingly after her as Scott had bundled her into his car, Callie guessed that he probably hadn’t gotten the hint. She had been expecting and dreading the almost inevitable call from him all morning.
“The dance,” Scott said thoughtfully. “Yes, that was an interesting evening, I’ll admit.”
“Interesting?” Callie snorted. “Is that what you call it when one of your romantic rejects totally trashes your family to everyone she knows?”
Scott frowned slightly. “I must admit, I didn’t think Veronica would react that way.” He gave the stove another halfhearted swipe with his sponge. “I guess I underestimated how angry she would get.”
“No kidding. Not to mention underestimating what she was capable of when she got that way.”
“Right.” Scott sighed and glanced at his sister again. “By the way, I really am sorry that you got caught up in this.”
Slipping off her rubber gloves and reaching up to tighten her messy blond ponytail, Callie shrugged. “I know. Not your fault.”
Still, she couldn’t help wincing as she thought about some of the garbage Veronica had been spreading. While most of her rumors were focused on Scott, a few targeted the rest of the Forester family—innuendos about Mr. and Mrs. Forester’s marriage, gossip about Callie’s love life back in her old hometown, even a totally outrageous lie about both Forester kids being recovering drug addicts.
“I’m sure most of the kids at school are smart enough to ignore the stuff Veronica’s saying,” Scott said, his forehead creasing slightly with worry. “But still, I wish—”
He cut himself off as Mrs. Forester poked her head into the kitchen. “How’s it going in here, you two?” she asked. “I want to get started on lunch soon.”
Callie picked up her rubber gloves and tossed them into the bucket on the floor nearby. “We’re finished, Mom.”
“And starved,” Scott added, dropping his sponge into the bucket and picking it up. “Lunch sounds great.”
Mrs. Forester glanced around the clean
kitchen, a pleased smile on her youthful, delicate-featured face. “Nice job, kids. Why don’t you go set the table in the dining room? I’ll have something ready in a jiff.”
As her mother started rummaging around in the refrigerator, Callie collected her crutches from where she’d leaned them against the counter and swung out of the kitchen. Scott followed her toward the dining room just across the hall.
As she dug into the sideboard for utensils, Callie glanced toward her brother. “So what are you going to do about her?”
“Who, Mom? Let her make lunch, of course,” Scott joked.
Callie rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I’m talking about Veronica, you nitwit.”
“What can I do?” Scott shrugged helplessly. “I’m going to wait it out and hope Tuesday’s election shows her that people aren’t paying attention to her lies.”
Callie didn’t think that was a very satisfactory solution. But she had to admit that she didn’t have a better one.
When Callie and Scott returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, they found a platter of sandwich fixings laid out. Their mother was busy making a pitcher of lemonade while their father rooted around in the refrigerator.
“What are you looking for, Dad?” Scott asked.
Congressman Forester looked up. “The spicy mustard.”
Mrs. Forester bustled over and leaned into the refrigerator, coming up with a small brown jar. “Here it is.”
“Ah!” Congressman Forester took the jar and planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “You’re a lifesaver, honey.”
At that moment the doorbell rang faintly at the front of the house. “Who could that be?” Mrs. Forester wondered, glancing at her watch and then at her husband. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.” Congressman Forester set the mustard on the table and headed for the hall. “I’ll see who it is.”
Scott picked up the lunch platter and carried it toward the dining room while Mrs. Forester came over to Callie and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “How’s your leg feeling, sweetheart?” she asked gently. “All that dancing last night didn’t tire you out too much, did it?
Callie shrugged. “It’s okay.” She appreciated her mother’s concern, though sometimes it irritated her a little. After all, she had been an athlete before her accident—an endurance rider, accustomed to long, strenuous, difficult competitions requiring all kinds of strength and stamina. Maybe she was out of training for the moment, but that didn’t mean she was some kind of fragile flower who might collapse after a night of dancing. “No problem.”
“Good.” Mrs. Forester tucked another strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear.
Feeling a little self-conscious, Callie tugged at her ponytail again. She suddenly realized that she probably looked a mess, especially standing beside her mother, who looked cool and perfect as always.
“Callie,” Congressman Forester called from the front hall. “You have a guest.”
“Really?” Callie exchanged a surprised glance with Scott, who had just returned from the dining room. She couldn’t imagine who would be stopping by to see her at lunchtime on a Sunday. “Who is it?”
She found out as her father entered the kitchen. George Wheeler was right behind him. Holding back a gasp of dismay, Callie forced herself to smile at George even as her head swam with shock.
“Um, hi,” she greeted him.
George had a bright smile on his flushed, moon-shaped face. If he noticed her messy hair or the stained old sweats she was wearing, his expression certainly didn’t show it.
“Hi, Callie,” he said eagerly. “I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by and tell you in person what a fun time I had last night at the dance.”
Callie shot a glance at her brother, who looked just as startled as she was to see George in their house. “Um, thanks, George,” she said uncertainly. “I had fun, too.”
She couldn’t believe that George was there. What in the world was he thinking? Even if he’d had no clue about her feelings the evening before, it had been only their first date—hardly the time for him to start dropping by unannounced.
If her parents thought there was anything odd about the visit, they weren’t letting on. “George, we were just about to sit down for lunch,” Mrs. Forester said. “Won’t you join us? It’s nothing fancy—just sandwiches—but there’s plenty.”
Callie gulped, wishing that her parents’ knee-jerk hospitality could have faltered just this once. All she wanted was to get George out of her house as quickly as possible. What was she going to say to him during an entire meal, especially with her parents listening to every word?
“Thank you,” George said eagerly, glancing at Callie. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”
“No trouble at all. Callie’s friends are always welcome.” Congressman Forester gestured toward the dining room. “Come on, why don’t we get started? I’m famished.”
Moments later an extra place had been set for George, and all five of them were seated around the big oak dining table. Callie felt as though she were moving through some sort of bad dream.
“So, George,” Congressman Forester said politely. “I understand you’re a Pine Hollow regular, too.”
Mrs. Forester smiled. “Oh, yes, George. Callie is forever telling us what a wonderful rider you are.”
Callie gripped the butter knife tightly in her fist. She could feel her facing blushing a deep crimson. She couldn’t believe her mother had just said that—it made it sound as though Callie spent all her time gushing about George! If anything, she might have mentioned once or twice that George had been chosen to represent Pine Hollow at the Colesford Horse Show. That was the extent of it.
“Really?” George looked embarrassed but happy. “Well, she may be exaggerating just a little about that. But I do love to ride.”
“Have you been riding at Pine Hollow long, George?” Congressman Forester asked, reaching for the mustard.
George accepted the lemonade pitcher Scott was passing to him. “Ever since my mother and I moved to Willow Creek a little over a year ago,” he said. “But I’ve been riding since I was in third grade. I really love it.”
Mrs. Forester turned to smile at her daughter. “Callie feels just the same way,” she said. “Especially endurance riding, of course—that’s her specialty, as I’m sure you know, George. But as long as there’s a horse involved, she’s happy. Isn’t that right, Callie?”
“Uh, sure,” Callie said, feeling annoyed—at George for coming to her house, at her parents for inviting him in and making him feel at home, and most of all at herself for not setting George straight the night before as she should have done.
Scott shot her a sympathetic glance and cleared his throat. “So, Dad,” he said, “did you finish that speech you were writing last night?”
Callie breathed a sigh of relief as the topic shifted away from her and George. Still, she couldn’t relax entirely. She knew she was going to have to figure out what to do about the George situation, and fast. For the time being, though, all she could do was concentrate on her food and do her best to ignore the fact that George was spending most of his time gazing at her with that goofy smile on his face.
This is a nightmare, she told herself, thinking back wistfully to her quiet, peaceful morning of chores. I’d rather have to clean out every disgusting drain in the house than sit here and deal with this.
“Get away!” Stevie said in annoyance, shoving Bear toward the powder room door. “It’s bad enough that I have to clean out every disgusting drain in the house without you sticking your big nose in here trying to help me.”
Giving her a slightly wounded look, Bear turned and padded out of the tiny room beneath the stairs. Lowering himself to the hall floor with a sigh, he rested his face on his front paws and stared at Stevie mournfully.
Stevie ignored the dog. She had been feeling increasingly fidgety and anxious as the morning wore on, and she continued to wonder what had happened at the prev
ious night’s big dance. Would it be too much to ask for Scott to call and let me know how it went? she wondered peevishly, grabbing the chop-stick she was using to pry the drain loose. Or was Veronica’s revenge so horrible that he just up and moved to Timbuktu overnight?
She sighed, feeling frustrated and wishing she could just pick up the phone and find out. But she knew better than to try it. Her parents had been fairly reasonable about allowing her and Alex to accept occasional calls even though they were grounded, but they had made it clear that there were to be no outgoing calls without their express permission. And since Alex had spent most of the morning whining about wanting to call Lisa, and their parents had repeatedly refused the request, looking more annoyed each time, Stevie was pretty sure that it would be hopeless for her even to ask.
Fortunately, she had an alternate plan in mind. When the phone still hadn’t rung by the time she poured the last drop of bleach down the powder room drain, she washed her hands and headed outside to find her parents.
Mr. Lake was nowhere to be seen, but Stevie soon located her mother in the backyard, planting bulbs in a flower bed near the swimming pool. “All drains clear and ready for action, ma’am,” Stevie announced sharply, snapping into the crisp salute Carole’s father, a retired Marine Corps colonel, had taught her years earlier. “Request permission to report to Pine Hollow.”
Mrs. Lake glanced up and brushed a strand of blond hair off her forehead. “Very amusing, Stevie,” she said, not looking particularly amused. “I know you think your father and I are running you ragged with these chores, but remember, it’s only—”
“I know, I know,” Stevie interrupted. “I’m sorry. I was just kidding around, really.” She smiled appeasingly at her mother. “So, can I go to Pine Hollow and practice for a while?”
“I suppose so.” Mrs. Lake glanced at her watch. “But make sure you’re back here by two. Your father wants you and Alex to help him winterize the pool this afternoon.”
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