Time Will Tell (Timeless Series) (2 page)

“Awesome! I’ll set it up. You won’t be sorry.”

She left Bev full of resolve. In fact, while taking the escalator to the third floor, she decided it was time to do something just because it made
her
happy. Not Dave or her dad. Instead of going back to her department, she veered toward her manager’s office and asked for a personal half day. After that, she called Bev to set up an earlier appointment.

Libby spun out of Dillard’s parking lot, feeling like she’d been let out of prison. That alone made her realize it was time to make some changes in her life
, and quitting Dillard’s would be the first one.

At her apartment, she quickly donned jeans and riding boots, grabbed her vest, then hurried back to her car and soon was heading east on US 60. Excitement welled up inside her, building to near-bursting proportions. She’d finally chosen a path and it felt like the best decision she’d ever made. Kismet; meant to be. She mentally kicked herself for not acting sooner. If only she could fast-forward the next few weeks, her life would be perfect.

Well, almost perfect. Thoughts of Dave sprang forth. She doubted he’d like her decision, but she didn’t want to worry about his disapproval. Not now.

She tapped the brake
pedal, slowing, and turned onto the shaded gravel road leading to Twin Oaks Farm. As she drove, her gaze wandered. Various shades of green emerged everywhere. The main stables and outbuildings eventually came into view. Beyond them, open meadows and Kentucky bluegrass spread out as far as Libby could see. Overhead, giant oak trees that, even without leaves, formed a canopy across the road, hiding the sunlight behind dark branches that stretched toward the heavens.

When she spotted a group of horses in the distance, running together in the same direction, she pulled over to the side of the road. While watching the herd run with wild abandon, contentment warmed her. Despite civilization looming only eight miles away, Libby imagined herself slipping back in time.

This place was special and made her feel comfortable. She remembered her first trip to the farm like it was yesterday instead of nine years ago. She’d never forget why she came. To heal. Twin Oaks and the horses had helped her deal with the overwhelming grief of losing her mom.

I made the right decision to return
, she mused happily. I belong here.

Smiling, she looked at the clock on her dashboard. “Shoot. Better get a move on. Don’t want to be late for my interview.”

She put the car in gear and, after a quick glance to check the side mirror, a couple of giant oaks grabbed her notice. The two stood side by side, about fifteen feet away from the road. They towered over the other trees lining the drive, appearing out of place. Not only that, she caught whispering in her thoughts. Like they were mentally calling to her.

Yeah, right!
Giant oaks didn’t call to people in their minds. She laughed, hit the gas pedal, and peeled out. Boy, she’d escaped from the crazies at Dillard’s just in time.

Around the bend, her best friend rushed to unlatch the gate. When the car came to a stop, Bev ran over and opened Libby’s door.

“I’m so excited you made it.”

“Me too!
I can’t believe I’m actually here.” The “William Tell Overture” sounded from her pocket. Libby pulled out her cell phone and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Dave.”

Bev shrugged. “Just text him and tell him you can’t talk right now and you’ll call him back later.”

“Good idea.” When the message light blinked, she typed a quick message and after sending it, turned the phone off. The thought about feeling as if she couldn’t share her excitement with him didn’t ease her anxiety any. She could already hear his words about irresponsibility and immaturity, not to mention what he’d say when he learned she’d be working with Bev. Candace and Victoria would certainly mock her choice. But none of that mattered. She’d made up her mind. Retail and messing with displays day after day, fresh or otherwise, just weren’t her thing. Horses were.

“So
, where’d Dr. Bull take you last night? You never said this morning.”

She sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

“If the name didn’t fit, I wouldn’t use it.”

“Can’t you try to get along
,” she asked, tired of playing referee. “And be nice to him?”

“I have tried.” Bev’s chin lifted. “He treats me like I’m a pariah because I don’t fit his mold of what he thinks is respectable.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Still, if Bev didn’t respond to his little barbs so negatively, it would help. “Then be the bigger person and be nice for my sake.”

“
OK. I promise I’ll try harder.” Bev hesitated a beat, then her eyebrows rose. “So, where’d you guys go last night?”

“The opera.”
Libby exhaled slowly, blowing on her bangs. “I’m sure he thinks I’m uncultured.”

“Be still my heart.” Bev placed her hand over her chest, patting, and rolled her eyes. “How’d you get roped into doing something so
fun
?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It just sort of happened. You
know, another surprise.”

“It seems a lot of things are just sort of happening.” Bev clucked and shook her spiky red head. Her
overlarge dangling earrings followed the movement, dancing back and forth. “But hey, you’re the one who’s going to spend the rest of your life with him. Not me.”

Another truth Libby didn’t want to reflect upon as Dave’s comment about Kewpie dolls entered her thoughts. She smiled, thinking it an apt description. Her friend did tend to use makeup, cloth
ing, and jewelry to attract attention, even when working with her precious horses.

A loud neigh rent the air. A hoof impatiently pawed the ground and the horse blew a huge breath out of her nostrils. “Is that Black Mystic?” Libby nodded at the mare Bev had been working with when she drove up.

“Yes. And as you can see, she hates to be ignored.” Bev reached for Libby’s arm and tugged. “Come on and get reacquainted.”

“I’d love to.” Libby climbed out of the car and
turned a full circle, taking everything in.

Another snort erupted. Black Mystic pranced, clearly growing more impatient by the second.

“Cool your jets, Mystic. We’re coming.” Bev latched on to Libby’s hand, pulling her behind. The mare’s head rose and her ears twitched. Nostrils flaring, the mare nudged Bev when she got close enough to grab her halter. “She’s my favorite, and she abuses the knowledge.” She rubbed soothingly over her long face. “Behave, you beast. Black Mystic, this is Libby. You remember her? She remembers you.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” Stifling pure joy, Libby stroked the animal, letting her gaze wander farther.

“Sam’s added more horses and enlarged the bunkhouse to accommodate another fifteen kids.”

She nodded. Twin Oaks Farm was an unusual one in these parts.
A camp for kids. A place where children came to heal. Whether from a serious illness such as cancer or from traumatic problems like Libby’s, Sam’s horses helped them.

A few grazed in the adjacent pasture.

Most of the thoroughbreds on the farm were castoffs taken in or bought after being on the racing circuit. Some were injured early on, ending their racing careers before they had a chance to become breeding champions. Others were too old to race and not good enough to breed, meaning they hadn’t won many races in their careers.

Libby grinned. “I’m glad they can bring a little pleasure to kids who need them.” All were dead broke and gentle, needing their own place to heal as they aged. “They’re proud animals and deserve to be useful.”

“I agree.”

“It feels right!” Familiar smells and sounds assaulted Libby’s senses. She spent long seconds enjoying the sensation of returning home after a long journey.

“Doug’s right over there, talking with Sam.” Bev indicated the house with a nod. “Good luck. Not that you need it. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Libby’s gaze followed Bev’s as two men stepped f
arther onto the porch. She recognized Doug, the farm’s manager, a balding, tall, lean man in his early to mid-forties, deep in conversation with the owner, Sam Thorpe.

Libby approached the house.

Doug Williams glanced up. “Can we finish this later?” He turned to Sam and nodded in her direction. “There’s the new handler I’m interviewing. But unless she’s changed significantly since she was last here, I think it’s only a formality. You remember her?”

Sam looked over and a smile lit his face. No one could miss his shock of snowy white hair. That and the deep crinkles around his warm blue eyes gave his age of sixty-nine years away. “Is that Libby Edwards?” When Doug nodded, Sam added, his voice full of amazement
, “She’s all grown up. How many years has it been?”

“At least four.”

Libby started up the stairs, meeting Sam halfway.

“Well, well, well. It’s about time you came back.”

“Hi, Mr. Thorpe.”
Libby’s smile was as wide as his when they shook hands. “It’s good to be here.” She turned to the younger man, still grinning. “Mr. Williams, I’m ready for my interview.”

“What’s this Mr. Williams stuff? You can call me Doug. If you don’t, I’ll feel old.”

“OK, Doug. I’m here to work. How about a job?” Libby replied, laughing.

Doug glanced at Sam with eyebrows cocked. “Can we finish going over the schedule later?”

“Fine.” Sam grunted. “No big hurry since we have a few days before the season begins.” He gave Libby a brief nod. “The first session starts next weekend and then we’re up and running until the end of October.” He turned toward the front door.

Doug’s eyes sparkled. “Well, little lady, I bet you haven’t lost your touch with the horses.”

“I hope not, but it’s been awhile.”

“Ha! It’s like riding a bicycle. Once you get comfortable, it’ll be like you never left. I feel blessed that you’re interested. Of course the pay’s not the main attraction, but I think you’ll love the benefits. Heck
, you can even live out here. In order to attract better trainers, we’ve added a few cabins with all of the amenities—bed, bath, and kitchen. Would you like a tour?”

Libby nodded. “I’d love one.”

While they walked, memories flooded Libby’s thoughts. Besides the two weeks as a camper at age fourteen, she’d spent too many summers after that as a counselor. When she left, at the start of her sophomore year of college, she never thought to return because her father had been dead set against it. Even now, his main argument replayed in her mind. She’d never done anything else, so how could she know what she wanted. Libby had no answer at the time and quitting had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Six jobs later, she could finally answer the question more definitively.

Libby hurried to keep up with Doug
, at the same time noting her surroundings more closely. At first glance it appeared as if nothing much had changed, but now, the new additions stood out.

“Twin Oaks Farm has been in Sam’s family for over a hundred years,” he said. “His great
-great-grandfather started it with two horses back in the 1870s.”

Libby knew all this, but never tired of hearing it. They entered the main stable. Her gaze went directly to the third stall on the right. And there stood Thorpe’s Pride.

At their intrusion, the mare’s head shot up and her nostrils flared.

“I wonder if she remembers you.” Doug strode toward her stall.

The exquisite animal immediately nuzzled her hand when she stepped close enough to hold it out. “Hey there, Pride. It’s good to see you again.” She caressed her nose and rubbed a hand along her sleek neck. “You’re such a beauty.”

“She is that.
And big too. Sixteen hands.” He nodded, absently stroking the horse. “Still, she can be stubborn at times.”

Libby leaned in close and whispered, “Are you giving these nice people a hard time, Pride?”

Doug laughed. “Sam usually does most of her handling because when she does get a burr up her butt, she’s a handful. If it were up to me, I’d get rid of her. I think she knows it, too.”

“Oh, Pride. I can’t believe you’ve become such a naughty girl.” Libby turned back to Doug. “I’m sure I can still handle her.” She’d never had trouble in the past, though, a twinge of guilt tugged on her heartstring
s for never visiting the horse in all this time. The two shared something special. Libby had been present at her birth; even helped train her. Yet, as much as she missed Pride, returning would have been too painful.

“If anyone can handle her, that’d be you. She’s always had a soft spot for you.” Doug continued rubbing her neck. “She’s just finicky. She’s definitely happy to see you. It’ll be nice to have help. Hell, we both know Sam will never part with her. He loves her. Besides, Pride has also become quite the mare for breeding and too valuable. Never hurts to be a direct descendant of Aristide, the first Derby winner back in
1875.” Doug stopped talking, then looked over at Libby and blushed. “Sorry, I forgot you already know all that. Don’t know why I’m rattling on. Habit, I guess.”

Libby smiled. “That’s
OK, I don’t mind.”