Lauraine Snelling (27 page)

“You should always let a dog sniff your hand before you try to pet them,” her son explained.

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m not very conversant with proper dog procedures.” She stepped to the side and around the dog and the wheelchair. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Gil watched her walk down the hall. Matching cream silk slacks and long-sleeved shirt with an abundance of gold at her throat, ears, and wrists, and she was wearing high heels. Not the best thing for a trek out to the barn, but so be it. Hair cut so it swung just so and lightened to ash blonde, makeup that didn’t quite disguise the wrinkles at the eyes and lips. Just what he’d expected.

“She’s pretty.”

He ruffled his son’s hair. “Yes, she is. Let’s go help Maria carry the trays out.”

He heard her high heels first on the tile floors, then on the hardwood. She greeted Maria who managed to be barely polite and followed her out to the patio.

“You have a lovely house, Gil, but then I am not surprised. I’ve watched your career take off and soar. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Would you like some of Maria’s marvelous lemonade? We don’t drink much sangria around here any longer.”

“That’s a shame—Maria made such great sangria. But then I don’t drink it or anything alcoholic any more either.” She took the tall glass tinged a deep red by the syrup Maria added and held it while smiling at Eddie. “I brought you a couple of things for your birthday.” She nodded to the bag Gil had set on a chair by the table.

“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” Eddie glanced to the bag, took his glass of lemonade, and after a sip looked to his father.

“Go ahead and open them, Eddie.”

The blue package was a Game Boy. He smiled. “Thank you.” And didn’t tell her he already had one. The last package was a digital camera, small enough to fit in the pouch were he kept dog treats. “Thank you very much. I’ll send you a picture of me and Bonnie and Breaking Free.”

“Why Eddie, that is so sweet.” She glanced at Gil. “He is so polite.”

He’s also sitting right there. Don’t talk around him
. Gil had a hard time just nodding.

Eddie put the gifts back in the bag and asked, “Do you live on the beach at Santa Barbara?”

“Close to it. Frank and I usually walk on the beach every day. You could come . . . ah, well, I guess your wheelchair wouldn’t make it through the soft sand.”

“Probably not.”

Gil glanced at his son who was very carefully not looking at his father. He’d seen Eddie plow through sand, over rocks, and through mud puddles. Only solid barriers like concrete walls stopped him. And when he needed help, he asked.

“Lunch is served.” Maria set the basket of fresh baked rolls on the table.

Eddie rolled his chair to the empty space, and Gil motioned for Sandra to sit between him and Eddie.

“This looks wonderful,” Sandra gushed as she sat down. “You always were a marvelous cook, Maria. Do you still make those wonderful enchiladas?”

“Sí.” Instead of sitting down, Maria turned toward the house. She’d not set a place for herself; a definite sign she wanted no part of this
family
meal.

Gil took his place and spread his napkin in his lap. Sandra was trying far too hard. He thought of warning her, but then dismissed the idea. His ex-wife was an adult, and she was the one who wanted to come here. A shame she wouldn’t see his home and family at their usual hospitable best. He dished up the chicken salad and fruit platter and handed the plates to his guest and son before passing the basket of rolls.

“I’ve always remembered Maria’s fresh, homemade rolls. That was nice of her to make them for today.”

Gil let that go by. Reminding him of earlier years together was not a good move on her part.

“So, Eddie, how is school going? You’re in what, the fourth grade?”

“No, fifth.”

“Oh. What do you like best?”

“About everything. I read a lot, and I write on the computer.”

“Eddie is a very good student, pulls straight A’s, and is a member of the debating club.” Pride made Gil smile at his son’s accomplishments.

“What school do you go to?”

“Pine Hills Christian Academy.” Eddie slipped Bonnie a bite of chicken and let her lick his fingers.

She frowned, but turned to Gil. “I read that you are thinking of writing a book.”

“Just thinking about it. I have a publisher who has been encouraging me.” He caught Eddie’s look of surprise. He should have already mentioned it to his son.

“Would you like to come see me ride this afternoon?” Eddie asked.

“Oh, you have a pony?”

“Not exactly.” Eddie rolled his eyes toward his father. “Breaking Free is a retired racing Thoroughbred. Dad and I adopted him from the Thoroughbred Retirement Foundation.”

Gil kept his smile inside but wanted to high-five his son.

Eddie looked politely at his mother. “Do you like to ride?”

“I don’t think so. Horses are so . . . so big, you know.” She looked to Gil. “Are you sure a horse like that is safe for-for someone in-ah, like Eddie?”

Gil’s mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “You can be sure I am most careful with my son.” Emphasis on
my
.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t, but an ex-racehorse?”

“He’s retired.” Eddie’s answer lay flat on the table.

Sandra looked down to see Bonnie looking up at her, a blob of drool dropped from her chops and onto the cream colored pants. “Oh, look what you have done!” Sandra dabbed at the spot with her napkin, making a face as she did so.

“Come on, Bonnie.” Eddie pushed his chair back. “Please excuse us.” Without waiting for permission, Eddie wheeled up the ramp and into the house, the dog trotting beside him.

“I’ve hurt his feelings, I’m so sorry.”

“You owe him the apology, not me.” Gil let her dip her napkin in her water glass and dab at the spot on her trousers. Wait until her heels sank into the lawn and the gravel.

“I’ll do that later.” She laid her napkin on the table. “Gil, sometime I’d love to take Eddie to El Capitan Theatre for the release of one of the children’s movies.”

“I think not.” Gil leaned back in his chair, his salad half eaten. “Let’s talk straight, Sandra. You said you no longer drink or do drugs?”

“That’s right. I still attend weekly AA meetings, and I’ve been clean and sober for two years. I got my driver’s license back . . .”

His eyebrows went up.

“Well, I had a slight accident. But that turned my life around and helped me realize that I made some pretty big mistakes, all thanks to-to my illness.”

“Illness?”

“Well, you know substance abuse is an illness. And I’m glad to say that day by day, I’ve stayed in recovery.”

Lady, you say all the right words, but
. . . “I see. Well, I have a policy of not letting Eddie ride with strangers.”

She leaned forward and extended one manicured hand. “I don’t want to be a stranger any longer, Gil. I want to be his mother, at least as much as you will allow me to be.”

Was she really this sincere or had her acting skills improved through the years?

“I-I think I’d better be going. It’s a long drive home, and Frank doesn’t like me on the freeways late in the day.” She pushed back her chair. “Thank you for letting me come. I’ll be in contact.” She motioned to the gifts. “I hope he likes them.”

“I’ll get Eddie.” Gil stood before she did. Nothing like here’s your hat, what’s your hurry. He met her at the front door, Eddie beside him.

“Thank you for the presents. I’m sorry you can’t stay to see me ride.”

“I’ll come another day.”

“We’ll set something up. Perhaps Frank would like to come too.”

She extended her hand to her son. “I’m sorry I was upset with Molly. I-I’m just not used to dogs.”

“It’s Bonnie.” Eddie’s jaw tightened, and he shook her hand. “Thank you for coming.” Father and son watched her walk down the ramp and to her car where she turned and waved. They waved back and waited until she was backing out before closing the door.

“She should have worn khakis like Maggie does.” Eddie heaved a sigh. “I’m glad that is over.”

“You did well, son.”

“She really doesn’t like Bonnie.”

“Her loss. Let’s go swimming.”

“Can we invite Maggie?”

“I think she’s riding.”

“Oh. Just think, if we had two more horses, we could all ride together.”

“Two more now?” Gil rolled his eyes and made Eddie grin. “You think Maggie would be a good enough teacher to teach me to ride?”

“She could try.” Eddie ducked away from his father’s fake punch and sped down the hall to change.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Sandra had her fill and never came back?
Dream on, Winters
.

TWENTY-SEVEN

R
iding while Gil, Eddie, and their guest ate lunch seemed a good way to keep herself from stewing. She’d taken Breaking Free out on the trails before to make sure the horse would behave in different circumstances than the round pen. He ignored barking dogs, but shied at shadows until she gave him time to see there was nothing to be afraid of, and finally he enjoyed the rides as much as she did. Like today. She stood straight in her stirrups, stretching her legs, and inhaling fall, the scents of dried grass and pine pitch and freedom.

While paying attention to her horse, she also let her mind roam. If Gil adopted another Thoroughbred or any horse, she could ride with Eddie. She looked up and ahead to see the ravens that scolded her from the tops of the pine trees, while around her scrub jays and sparrows flitted through the brush. A family of California quail ignored both horse and rider, fluffing their feathers in the dust baths beside the trail, chattering like the giggle of little girls.

On the way home she saw a roadrunner running head forward, tail straight back and then turning into a stick when it stopped, totally melded with the grass and weeds.
How Eddie would love to see all this
, she thought as she patted her horse’s shoulder. Never would she have dreamed that the horse that had once tried to slam her into a wall and raked her shoulder would become such a steady friend and companion.

Hard to believe it was mid October, the weather had remained so nice. While she’d not left Breaking Free outside overnight, she’d thought about it. Maybe she should mention it to Gil.

She took the drive to the barn, noticing that the guest’s car was no longer in the driveway. That hadn’t been a very long visit, especially when the woman had come so far. As soon as he saw her, Eddie and Bonnie blew through the yard gate and along the path to the barn.

“Did you have a good ride?” he called before he stopped far enough away to avoid startling Breaking Free. Bonnie felt no such restrictions, sitting up for her mutual greeting. She gave her equine friend a quick nose lick, and when he snorted she dropped to all fours and shook her head.

Eddie giggled and drove up to hand his peppermint candy to the horse. “Did you have fun?”

“We did. We even saw a roadrunner, until he camouflaged himself. They are amazing creatures.”

“Did Breaking Free spook?”

“Not once. He likes looking around though. One of these days I’ll lead you along that path so you can see the same things we did.”

“Dad and I’ve walked up that direction sometimes. Up until the trail gets too steep. But we never saw a roadrunner. Beep-beep.”

Maggie paused. “I’m sorry Eddie, but you better go ask your dad or Maria to come down here with you.”

“Oh yeah. Come on Bonnie.” He turned with a grimace and headed back to the house.

“What a stupid rule,” she muttered to the horse.

Eddie and his father wandered down to the barn a few minutes later and helped her finish brushing Breaking Free. When they let him loose in the pasture, he ran the perimeter of the fence, dropped to roll, and then began grazing.

“He does the same thing every time,” Eddie said, peering through the rails.

“Horses are like that.”

“So are people pretty much, unless they make a concentrated effort to change.” Gil turned his head to glance at Maggie.

She could feel his look, but stared straight ahead. What was happening that she could feel his look and sense when he was near? Her thoughts roamed around what he’d said and added,
Or some tragedy happens and they have no choice.

“Maggie, Eddie and I’ve been talking and I think he’s right. Now that he can ride alone in the round pen, you don’t really need me down here, or Maria.”

Maggie stared at him. “Thank you.” So she’d finally gained his trust. She knew she should be more pleased but acceptance was enough for now.

A week later Gil was out of town giving a presentation when Bonnie announced a visitor. Eddie and Maggie were working in the riding corral when a cheery voice caught their attention.

“Hello, I’ve come to see you ride.” Sandra waved from the side of the newly finished riding corral, which was much larger than the round pen.

“Hello, Mother.” Eddie smiled politely.

“Mother sounds so formal, Eddie. I’d love it if you called me Mom like other kids do.”

Eddie nodded.

Maggie could tell by the look on his face that he had no intentions of calling her by the more common nickname. The boy who made friends with everyone was not showing the affable side of himself in this situation. She wanted to tell the woman “don’t push” but decided to keep her mouth shut too. After all, she was only the horse trainer, not the mediator in a family brouhaha. But it made her wonder what had gone on. Eddie had described the first visit with his mother in very uncomplimentary terms.

“And you must be Maggie. I’m Sandra, Eddie’s mother.”

Maggie nodded. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Sandra was pretty as Eddie had said, but she looked worn about the edges other than her jeans that looked like she’d removed the price tag just before putting them on. Gil hadn’t said she was coming. Did he know she was here?

Everyone was on alert, even Breaking Free and Bonnie. Of course animals were usually far more perceptive than humans anyway. She remembered Mr. James saying “horses never lie.” In this case, both of these animals were protecting Eddie.

But protecting him from what? Should she ask Maria?
Don’t
get involved. Just get through
. The words echoed in her mind. That was advice for a woman in prison. When would she be free of needing that advice?
Mrs. Worth, I need your wisdom right about now.