Joy and Tiers

by Mary Crawford

  I make a face as I comment, “I’m sure you don’t want me to say what I’m thinking, otherwise you might hit me and it’s a little early in the morning for me to duck. I think you look right pretty and your mom would be crazy not to like your outfit. You look like you could have been Jackie Onassis’s best friend. Are you going to want to stay here tonight or do you want to stay at your grandma’s place? I need to know so I can check out of the room,”

  Heather looks up at me in the mirror as she fastens her earring. I watch as a blush overtakes her. But, she quickly gathers herself as she responds, “I don’t know, Cowboy. We seem to get along okay. We didn’t kill each other last night. Maybe we should try it again and see how it goes. I like the Jacuzzi here.”

  “I like it too,” I reply, “but I like the company even better.”

  “Alrighty then, I guess we’ve established that you’re not going to pick up any random strangers at the memorial service,” Heather answers with a wink. “So, let’s come back here and go out to eat. The restaurant here looks phenomenal. I can only eat so many casseroles from the church ladies. I’m starting to adopt your casserole phobia. I need to eat a steak or something.”

  To say breakfast was a strange affair was the understatement of the century. Even after several conversations with Heather’s dad and brother, I can’t tell whether they respect me more or less because of my military service. It’s clear they don’t think my service warrants the same amount of respect as their relatives that served in the Civil War, World War I and World War II. It’s also clear they didn’t want to talk about Heather’s grandmother’s service in the Korean War. Her dad went as far as saying it didn’t really count as military service because she was only a nurse. Although I strongly disagree with sentiment, I let the matter go for the purposes of keeping peace. I never claimed my military service was more meritorious than their relatives, so I don’t that touch one with a ten foot pole. Every time her dad challenges me, Heather just sinks further down in her chair. It makes me wish we were like Tara and Aidan and could communicate privately between us in a separate conversation. I try to give her a reassuring smile to let her know that none of this BS is really bothering me, but given the expression on her face, I don’t think she’s getting the message.

  It pains me to watch her shed her vivacious personality to try to conform to who her parents want her to be. It hardly seems fair that the men in the family are eating hearty omelets with biscuits and gravy and the women are eating cantaloupe and yogurt. I know from our previous discussions about food that yogurt is one of the few foods Heather really dislikes. Yet, she’s eating it to meet some unrealistic social expectation.

  The longer I think about it, the angrier I become. Finally, I move my coffee cup and scoop some of my omelets and sausage and biscuits together with a generous helping of the hash browns on to the saucer. I place it in front of Heather. “Come on Chef, I bet you can’t identify all of the spices in these dishes,” I challenge.

  The look of pure sunshine Heather gives me would’ve brought a dying plant back to life. I haven’t seen her grin that wide in a while. “You do realize this is my field of expertise, right?” she answers.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that,” I counter. “But, this is so good that I’d like a formal analysis of it so I can re-create it at home.”

  “Food is food!” her dad huffs. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “Oh hush Carl,” Heather’s mother interrupts. “I doubt she’ll be successful anyway. I don’t think her palette is sophisticated enough to tell the difference. You can tell by looking at her that all she eats is French fries.”

  I’m trying really hard not to buy into their drama, but right now it’s taking every bit of discipline ever drilled into me as a soldier not to break into a curse-laden tirade against that vindictive woman. I’m clenching my jaw so tight that my teeth hurt. I look directly at Heather and say, “Gidget, you were saying?”

  “Well, the omelet has several layers of flavor. They’ve put some spinach and garlic and onions in it, which is pretty standard. What’s unusual is the basil pesto and pine nuts. It’s a stroke of genius if you ask me. The hash browns are my favorite kind. They make them kind of like they make steak fries and they’ve added just a touch of balsamic vinegar and tarragon. The biscuits and gravy are your pretty standard fare. The sausage they use is heavily loaded with fennel,” Heather explains.

  I take a bite of each item as she explains the composition of each one. It’s amazing how much more I can taste once I have an idea of what I am looking for. “Wow, that’s great. I had no idea everything was so complex,” I respond.

  “There’s no way she can tell all that from just a few bites. She’s making up all that crap just to try to impress you,” her dad snarls.

  “That’s it. I’m done trying to be civil,” I announce directly to Carl. “Your daughter has done nothing but try to make peace since she arrived here and you’ve done nothing but tear her down. Have you actually ever eaten anything your daughter has cooked for you? If you had, you wouldn’t have a single, solitary doubt about her skill level as a chef. As good as this food is, her food leaves this food in the dust. I’m amazed you don’t know that. Since you apparently don’t know or don’t care, I think we have better things to do with our time this morning. So, we’ll see you this afternoon at the service.” I stand up and tip my hat at Madison. “Madison, it was nice to see you, perhaps next time it will be more pleasant, but this isn’t your fault.” I pull out Heather’s chair and help her on with her coat. We walk out of the restaurant in silence, hand-in-hand.

  When we get to the rental SUV, I walk her around to the driver’s side where she’ll be sheltered from the windows of the restaurant. I notice we are both trembling. I open the back seat of the vehicle and grab my raincoat. I place it around Heather shoulders. As I tried to button the top button, I notice my hands are shaking from adrenaline as well.

  “Oh God Heather, I’m so sorry. I ruined your family breakfast. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I can go back in and apologize,” I offer as I turn back toward the restaurant.

  Heather catches my arm. She captures my face in her hands as she insists, “Tyler Colton, don’t you dare apologize, my dear sweet man.” She kisses me passionately in the middle of the parking lot. Her tongue darting in to caress mine. As she pulls away she continues speaking. I have to shake my head to clear it from the endorphins that race through my body at the unexpectedly intimate touch. Her voice fades in, “You just said all the things I wish I could say and never think of in the moment because I’m too angry. I could kiss you for that, Cowboy. In fact, I just did,” she teases breathlessly as she giggles. “Come on, I know how these breakfasts go. They’ll be drinking mimosas until one o’clock in the afternoon. If it’s a typical family breakfast, they’ll probably have difficulty standing during the prayer service at church.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  “As a heart attack,” she assures me. “Getting sloshed before church is a family tradition.”

  “I’ve heard of a lot of family traditions, but that one’s a new one on me,” I remark.

  “Oh, my family’s got some doozies,” she confesses.

  “I can only imagine,” I deadpan. “On the bright side, it might explain much of your childhood.”

  Heather grins at me as she replies, “Good point, I never thought of it that way. Come on, I want to show you something. Let’s go to the barn.”

  “Wait! What? You’ve got a barn and this is the first time you’ve mentioned it? How many days have we been here?” I ask, exasperated.

  “Well, it’s not like we haven’t been a little busy,” Heather responds defensively.

  “You’re right. We barely had time to take a breath, let alone do anything extra,” I acquiesce. “Where is this barn?”

  “It’s on the back of my grandma and grandpa’s property. It’s not where he keeps the fancy horses that Grandma gave to Madison. These are just pe
t horses.”

  “How many pet horses are we talking about?” I asked with trepidation knowing how big the ranch is.

  “Well, the last time I was here, there were two. But, one of them was very sick and my grandma was going to have the old gelding putdown. So, it means there should be one left. But, don’t quote me on that. Because, you never knew with her. She had a huge heart she collected strays like most people collect stamps or commemorative coins. “

  I sigh heavily. This could go badly, people who have been in the hospital for a long time or those in need of home care can have extremely neglected pets and people with big outdoor animals like horses, cattle and even sheep can be among the worst. I steel myself for a bad outcome, but I have no way of really warning Heather without sounding like the world’s biggest jerk. As we hike to the back of the field, I am pleasantly surprised. Although the barn looks weathered from the outside, it’s actually in pretty good shape. It’s clean and well-kept. The tack is organized and not tattered. There’s water and fresh feed out for the horses. I breathe a sigh of relief. Just then a beautiful black head pops up from over the stall. Just from her elegant lines, I’m guessing this beauty is the mare in question. She tries to steal my hat with her teeth. “I know you’re trying to get my attention, but that’s no way to win a cowboy’s heart. What’s your name sweetheart?” I ask as I stroke her flank.

  Heather giggles at our interaction, which I consider real progress considering where she started. “Her name is Velvet. My grandparents got her for me when I was a little girl. They just didn’t realize I was going to be completely terrified of all animals. My grandpa was so disappointed I didn’t bond with her like every other little girl that completely adores horses. I think he wanted me to be like Elizabeth Taylor in the movie. I always felt so sad I couldn’t be that kind of grandchild for him. But, with what you taught me the other day, I’d like to try now. She’s not included in the horses he gave my sister, so I don’t know what’s going to happen to her. I’d hate to see her go to the Humane Society. She’s kind of old.”

  “How old is she?” I ask, gently pulling up Velvet’s lip to examine her teeth to examine them for wear.

  “Look at me, I don’t even know how long horses live,” Heather mutters. “But, I suppose she’s about 17 or so.”

  “Oh, she’s just barely into middle age. Horses usually live to be about 25 or 30. If she’s a good riding horse, she’d make a great training horse for Mindy,” I suggest.

  The look on Heather’s face is priceless. It’s a cross between horror and hopefulness. “Where do you suppose I would keep her? Tied out behind the food truck?” She snickers as she grins. “That’d be a good one. I could just throw her cake scraps and the left over lettuce from sandwiches. She’d have a bonanza on the days I serve coleslaw. I make an excellent coleslaw that has apples in it. She would grow fat and sassy from all the apple cores.”

  I grab a currying brush from a hook on the barn wall and start to brush out Velvet’s mane as I say, “No, that’s precisely why I’m offering to board her for you at my place. My guys could do with a little less feed and Fannie could use a friend.”

  “Why would you do that?” Heather demands, her voice full of skepticism. “You don’t even know this horse and Mindy isn’t even your kid.”

  “Well, you might have noticed I don’t really like leaving horses at the Humane Society and I’m not real fond of your parents at the moment. Your mom would probably just as soon use Velvet as raw material for a handbag than keep her as a pet. I don’t know much about your brother, but to be honest he doesn’t strike me as a real horse aficionado, unless he can bet on them.”

  Heather laughs out loud. “I’m still not sure how you managed to nail my family so well. But, you so have Carlton’s number.”

  “Madison is probably going to have her hands full with the four Arabians she got under the terms of the will. Call me sentimental, but I’d really like to see you being able to give this horse to someone who would really benefit from her the way your grandpa intended. I think she’ll make a great little riding horse.”

  Heather sighs and in a shaky voice says, “That would make Grandpa so happy.”

  “I know that Mindy’s not my kid. But, she has had such a rough start in life and I want to do everything in my power to help make all of her dreams come true. So, if I can pitch in and help Jeff and Kiera, that’s what I’m going to do. Mindy has been bugging me to teach her how to ride horses ever since the wedding. Apparently, Justice Gardner told her if she learned how to ride horses, she can ride his horse, Snowball, on the beach next summer when they go back. So, it’s been her singular focus. She was highly incensed that she had to ride on her grandpa’s lap the last time. She is bound and determined to do it independently the next time.”

  “Yes, that’s true, Mindy is very stubborn when she sets her mind to something,” Heather agrees chuckling. “She saw someone making baked Alaska on television a couple of months ago and she’s trying to convince me she’s ready to try that. She won’t take my word for it that it’s a pretty advanced technique even for a culinary student. So, we’ve been working on cookies and yeast breads. But she still has her eye on the prize. It won’t be long before she’s making that baked Alaska.”

  “So, what do you say?” I press as I toss Heather a brush. She looks down at her tight fitting A-line dress and her little kitten pumps and gives me a look that says something akin to ‘get real’.

  I shrug as I walk over to a row of coveralls hanging on the back wall of the barn. I sit down on a stool that’s clearly intended for a horse farrier and strip off my jacket and my cowboy boots. I put on the coveralls over my clothes and put the boots back on. Then, I pull a set of women’s coveralls out of the pile and hand them to Heather. I raise my eyebrows in challenge.

  Heather rolls her eyes at me as she snatches the coveralls from my fingers. “Turn your back please,” she orders.

  I dutifully turn around and go back to brushing Velvet. I can hear her rustling and muttering under her breath.

  “I can’t believe the things I do for you. I let you talk me into the craziest things…”

  “Are you ready to do one more?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” Heather asks warily, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Well, by the looks of that tack, I’d say Velvet here is used to being ridden every day and she’s probably pretty lonely right about now. I’d ride her—except I’m far too tall and heavy. You’re about the size of your grandmother, so you should suit her just fine. Don’t worry, I’ll lead you around the pasture at a nice slow trot. I’ll take very good care of you, but this old girl needs some companionship or things are going to be much worse for her. Can we do that for her?”

  I watch as Heather's compassionate side far outweighs her fear. Her spine stiffens and her jaw juts out. “Tyler, do you think the sugar cube trick will work for Velvet the way it did for Fannie, Julia and Jacques?” she asks.

  “I’m sure it would, Gidget,” I answer with a warm smile. I knew it would only be a matter of time before she would conquer her fear. Everything that I have seen from her indicates that she has nerves of steel. “I think I saw some over in this other stall.”

  I walk over to the other stall and find an old canning jar with sugar cubes sealed inside. I wonder how many times Heather’s grandparents came out and fed the horses out of this very jar. I stick a handful of the sweet treats in my pocket and return the old dusty jar to the windowsill. I return to the barn and hold a couple of sugar cubes out to Velvet. At first, it seems like she’s going to refuse them from me, but eventually she gently sucks them up. After I’ve confirmed her temperament, I hand the sugar cubes to Heather. Heather holds the sugar cubes out in the palm of her hand. I didn’t have to show her twice how to hold her fingers. She is so still that nothing on her body moves, including her eyelashes. Velvet is understandably curious.

  Velvet took the sugar from Heather and a lifetime of fear seems to start to m
elt away.

  “I should really do this,” Heather resolves. “It would be selfish of me not to.”

  “That’s entirely up to you. I’m not going to judge you one way or the other. I want you to be comfortable with your decision. I’ll support you either way,” I announce as I rub her shoulders.

  “You promise to be beside me the whole time?” she probes.

  “I promise,” I answer solemnly. “I’ll be on you like chocolate on a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. I won’t budge an inch.”

  Heather takes a deep breath. She places her hand in mine she places her other hand on Velvet’s neck as she says, “Come on, girl. Let’s go take a walk around the corral before I chicken out and change my mind. Mindy was not quite seven when she went on her first horseback ride, I can’t have her completely showing me up. As a member of the Girlfriend Posse I’ve got to at least make an effort to hold my own, don’t you think?”

  Velvet seems to make a knowing nod as she nickers. I pull a bale of hay out of the spare stall and set it in front of the barn I placed an old saddle blanket on top of it and gestured for Heather to sit on it.

  “You might as will make yourself comfortable. It’s going to take me a bit to saddle Velvet up properly,” I comment as I start pulling the appropriate tack off the wall. “There’s a few pairs of old boots here if you want to change out of your dress shoes.”

  Finally, I got Velvet all geared up. When I look over at Heather, she’s very pale. She appears to be praying. “Are you all right Gidget?” I ask, with concern in my voice. I don’t want to make today any worse for her than it already is.

  “Yeah, I’m just talking to my grandma, trying to summon the courage to do this. If she can go to war, I can ride a horse around in a circle. I think she told me to 'get my britches out of a bunch'. I swear I heard her say that. I know you’re going to think I’m nuts— and at this point, I probably am—but I’m just going to go with that. Velvet and I are going to go for a ride because my grandma just told us to.”