One Silver Summer Page 4

  Helena sat down, suddenly weary. The thought of selling up was like a gin without tonic. Bitter. It was the horses she’d miss most, and the staff. Although apart from the stable girls, they were almost as ancient as she was. Time they all went out to pasture. As for the house, so many memories, and not all of them happy. After all these years, she still felt like an outcast. It wasn’t called Trist for nothing. Cornish for “sadness,” there were plenty of tears and sighs caught up in these cobwebs.

  Alex had picked up a sponge. Good grief, was he making amends for his disastrous arrival?

  “Bo looks well. I didn’t know you were going to turn her away for the summer?”

  Helena smiled; had he sensed her weariness?

  “Bo needed a rest. Have you seen her foal yet? Cheeky little madam. Didn’t mind being weaned at all.”

  “No. I’ll go and see her tomorrow. Have you thought of a name for her yet?”

  Helena hadn’t. Bo’s foal had been born one freezing night in January. They’d come down in the morning and there she was, already woolly and shaky-legged beside her mother. Bo was old now and this filly would be her last.

  “No, but I will. I always do. It takes time to find the right one.”

  Seagulls woke Sass, noisier than any alarm clock. She’d slept better than a caterpillar in a cocoon, and this morning she could feel the beginnings of butterfly wings. Seeing Alex galloping his horse through the surf had made her want to do something. For the first time in forever, she looked forward to feeling the sun and wind on her face.

  Sinking back against her pillow, she tried to imagine what it took to ride like he did, to gallop that fast. He was certainly brave, and nicer than she’d expected in a poker-faced sort of way. And best of all, he hadn’t explicitly told her to stay away from the meadow. Not that she wanted to run into him again, but Bo was different; Sass had to see her.

  She flopped back onto her stomach and stirred her stuff on the floor with a finger. Most of her clothes were still in crates on a ship crossing the Atlantic, one of those long, dark outlines that slid across the horizon. She couldn’t even remember what was in them. She’d brought the things that mattered with her, the things you’d save in a fire. Her photo of Mom, safe under her pillow, along with Lion, the stuffed toy she still slept with because he was missing his whiskers and courage. Some of her swimming medals for freestyle and backstroke, and random bits and pieces: a Broadway ticket to Matilda, a lipstick of Mom’s, and some books.

  Harry was scratching at the door. Still in her nightclothes, Sass took him down to the jetty. The tide was coming in, so they pottered above the cove, the dog sniffing at rabbit holes and growling at the lobsterman checking his pots from a rowboat near the shore. She decided on three new things:

  a. To always walk Harry first thing in pajamas because it felt kind of good, so long as nobody saw her.

  b. To get up and out and doing something.

  c. To not get distracted by thoughts of boys with dark-dark eyes. On horses, she added in her head, like that made it okay.

  When she got back, Sass got dressed and wandered into the kitchen, where David stood on his own rinsing paintbrushes. Perching on the edge of the sink, Sass drummed her heels and poked at the dregs of paint swirling down the drain.

  “Jessie not around?” she asked. Sass had noticed her bag of toiletries had disappeared that morning. David looked up, a little startled at her directness.

  “She’s over at her place.”

  “But aren’t you two … ?” Sass didn’t like to presume.

  “Aren’t we what?”

  “You know, living together? As a couple.”

  David took his time answering. He washed up and put the brushes in a jar on the windowsill. “Yes … and no. She has a life of her own, and I have you to think about now.”

  “I’m not in the way, am I?” Her newfound resolve wobbled. “You don’t have to change things because of me … I mean, I really like Jess.” She pulled at a loose thread on her jeans.

  “You’re not in the way,” her uncle said carefully. “Don’t ever think that, but there’s stuff that Jessie and I need to work out.” He paused. “But that’s up to us. Right now, I’m about to make breakfast. Want some pancakes before I go to work?”

  “Pancakes? Seriously?”

  “Yeah, with syrup and bananas, like your mom used to make.”

  “You know about them?”

  “Sure.” He looked away for a second and then turned back and held her gaze. “She was my big sister. She used to make them for me.”

  After David left, Sass cleaned up and took Harry out, letting the small dog rocket up the steep country lane to where it emerged from its coverlet of green. The pancakes and bananas had found a sweet spot; wherever Harry decided to go, she’d follow.

  Over breakfast, David had told her the story of the village. No bigger than a hamlet, he said, with its cluster of houses above high water, the same fishing cottages that had stood since the long-gone days of smuggling. Everyone had joined in: fishermen, blacksmiths, farmers and their families, because it was the only way to survive. When the wind, the moon, and the tide were right, brandy and lace were rowed ashore and stashed in caves and boat lofts like hers. They traded in danger to stay alive and ignored the inn on the hill. The Struggler’s End, a grim reminder that anyone who got caught dangled at the end of a rope.

  Halfway up the lane, Harry veered down a path to a stone stile. A new walk. Sass picked him up and climbed over, and found herself in a field of cows. Not the black-and-white girl ones, wet-lipped with swinging udders. These were smaller, honey-colored and doe-eyed. Calves but bigger. All baby boys, she thought. Some of them were lying down, while others chomped on the lush grass. There had to be at least twenty of them, and on seeing her, one of them began to low. It was so sweet. Or, it seemed sweet, until the solo moo became a collective mooing. When they scrambled to their feet, Sass felt the smallest trickle of apprehension down her back. They were much bigger than she’d realized. And really curious; so curious that they were coming over now. A herd of teen-bulls was charging her way. They were … galumphing toward her, or whatever it was that boy cows did before they grew into full-sized bulls.

  “Shoo.” She tried on the nearest one as she picked up Harry and held him close. The dog wasn’t liking it either; she could feel him shaking. There were too many of them. The herd was jostling closer, crowding around and butting her like she was the most popular girl in the field.

  “Stay calm and walk over here,” an unexpected voice commanded. Sass risked a look over her shoulder. Alex was leaning over a nearby gatepost.

  “I don’t want them to come any closer.”

  “They won’t hurt you.”

  “How do I know that?” The biggest bull was prodding her with his head. Not so cute anymore. Her heart was thudding in her ears.

  “Sass, listen. Wave your arms slowly and walk back toward me.”

  “I can’t. I’m holding the dog.”

  “It’s him that they’re interested in.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bulls and loose dogs, they don’t really mix.”

  “I didn’t see any warning signs.”

  She ignored his rolling eyes.

  Sass made it over the gate to Alex, doubly pleased when he ruffled Harry’s head. She could feel her own hair bursting out of its rubber band like a firework and a trail of nettle rash down her legs. Before she left, she’d cut off her jeans, which was clearly a mistake. Worse, Alex had noticed, and her face went redder when she saw that he was holding out a large, flat leaf.

  “What’s that?” she asked, doubtfully.

  “It’s a dock leaf. If you press it to your skin, it takes away the nettle sting.”

  “Oh? I never knew.” Sass pressed it to her thigh. It seemed rude not to. She scraped her hair off her hot face. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

  His turn to not meet her eyes. “I was on a break. Came up here to make a call.
There’s no signal down there.” He tapped his iPhone. It was the latest one.

  “Ah, okay.”

  “And you?”

  “Just walking the dog. Again. Harry needs a lot of walking.”

  “I know. I’ve got one too, a black Labrador. We’ve had her all my life. She’s pretty doddering these days. She’s sixteen, and all she wants to do is sleep.”

  “What’s her name?” Sass liked the way his face softened when he talked about his dog.

  “Susan.”

  “So English. Do you have a nickname for her too?”

  He made a face. “Not usually …” adding with a hint of a grin, “though she ought to be called Pig because she steals food all the time.”

  The way he said pig made a sudden giggle well up inside her.

  “I see I’ve made you smile.” Sass was about to apologize for her goof, when he gave a quiet but very definite, “Oink!”

  Sass snorted—Oh god, piggy style—and clapped a hand to her mouth. It was the relief of her rescue from killer cows, that was all, and yet she couldn’t seem to stop. She was an overflowing can of soda: crying with laughter till she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep it still. So totally the wrong thing to do, but it felt … really good.

  Alex had never met a girl like her. Loads of girls giggled, then stared, or were loud and horsey, or perfectly cool like Plum, but she, Sass, seemed to have a way of knocking him off-balance and then making him feel … good about it. If he took her fishing, he might end up happy just rowing in circles. So natural, he could almost believe she didn’t recognize him. Was it possible? She wiped the palm of her hand across her eyes and nose, and surreptitiously down the back of her shorts. He pretended not to notice, distracted by her legs, which went all the way up to her bum, which of course was where all legs ended. She reminded him of a setter, a black-and-tan gun dog that he’d had on a shoot in Scotland last year, all wavy tail that kept getting in the way.

  “Have you ridden yet today?” she asked with a final effort.

  “No, too much mucking out to be done. Dancer’s out in his field. He’s probably rolling right now in the muddiest patch he can find.”

  “How great to be a horse and just get down and wriggle in the dirt. It must be kind of satisfying.”

  There was something very real and yet slightly breakable about her. Thumbprint shadows beneath the blue eyes.

  “You’re not used to the countryside, then?”

  “No. I’m a city girl. I guess you’ve known dogs and horses … and farm animals … your whole life?”

  “Pretty much.” Cautious now … “I had a fat pony when I was five called Magic. He’d stick his head down to eat and hey presto, I’d fall off.” He smiled, thinking about Magic, but then felt the familiar dig whenever a conversation turned to him, which it almost inevitably did. “Do you ride, then? You said you liked horses.”

  “I like them, but I’ve never sat on one.”

  With her accent, her words rolled into one another, the way a wave gathered gravel on a beach.

  “Sometimes downtown … in Manhattan, I saw trailers parked for the police horses. I always wondered where they went at night.”

  Alex wasn’t sure how to reply. Part of him wanted to tell her about his last trip to New York, when he’d had the exact same thought about the horses queuing with their heads down outside Central Park. But what if she started asking questions? He wasn’t going to mention the suite at the Plaza, or the round of receptions his parents had dragged him to. Better to say nothing at all.

  “I could teach you?” he said, jamming his phone down in his pocket.

  “Show me?” Her body a question mark.

  “Yes. How to ride. We could meet in Bo’s meadow tomorrow?”

  “Oh,” she said, with a smile that invited him in. “Yes … I’d like that.”

  “Well, then.” He clasped his hands, twisting them hard. “I guess … I’ll be seeing you again.”

  And a sort of static hung in the air, that made Alex think that if he reached out and touched her, he might light up inside.

  Sass stepped out of the shower and stood in the tiny, damp bathroom with a porthole for a window. Was today a date or a riding lesson? She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been on many dates, not any that counted, and certainly not one like this. If it was one. She felt a flutter in her stomach.

  Through the warm steam, she caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror on the wall. She rubbed at the glass with the edge of her robe and a smudged girl she half recognized looked back. Her face was still drawn, but not as pale as it had been. There were spots of color in her cheeks and she’d burned her nose. Same frown-y brows and that stupid freckle above her lip, but her eyes had a brightness in them that had been missing.

  When she first met him, Alex had glared at her like something his dog might have found, but yesterday was different. Unless she’d imagined it? Maybe he was just being helpful to the crazy girl scared of cows? Hardly romantic. She smeared the face in the mirror. Just as well, since she had nothing to wear. When she’d packed three months and six days ago, she hadn’t been thinking about … well, very much, except getting through the next hour.

  She brushed her hair, tugging at the stubbornest knots before tying it up in the usual clump on top of her head. She’d risk a little mascara today. Crying was not an option. A spritz of cologne from a bottle on the shelf and she was ready for whatever came her way: date or lesson. Lesson or date. Dating lesson. Riding date. Which was it?

  The locked gates to the meadow beckoned her like a thief. Even the bowed trees lining the old farm track ushered her up, cobwebs glistening on the dark-green ivy-covered gatepost that was her secret way in. On the other side, the morning mist was lifting, golden sunlight catching her as she ran down the slope. She slowed to a saunter only when she saw that Alex had beaten her, and was sitting casually bareback on Bo. The horse was wearing her halter. Sass’s heart stuttered.

  “Ah … there you are,” he called.

  He got down, swinging his leg over Bo’s neck, showing off. The mare wasn’t impressed and so Sass tried not to be either. He smiled and pushed his hair back from his forehead. It sprang forward. Messy. Nice.

  “You ready?” he asked with that slow grin. “Come over and I’ll give you a leg up. Then I can hold her if she gallops off.”

  Sass gazed at Bo. Now that she was supposed to get on her, the horse had grown to the size of an elephant. “Am I really going to do this?” she whispered in the horse’s soft black-tipped ear. As the mare butted her pockets, Sass leaned in to feel her warmth. “Please, please, please,” she murmured. “Make me look good.”

  Alex cupped his hands, lacing his fingers to create a footrest, his feet planted on the ground. Today he was wearing old sneakers and khaki breeches. Sass had kind of liked his long boots from before: black leather with a chestnut band around the top.

  “Reach up with your left hand and grab a clump of mane. Then put your left foot in my hands and hop on.”

  Sass stepped up and a tremor ran through her, but she managed to follow his instructions and scramble onto Bo’s back. Startled, the mare sprang forward, and Sass clung to her neck for balance as Alex pulled the horse gently around.

  “Sit up, don’t slump. And relax, she’s not going anywhere.”

  “It doesn’t feel like that!” Sass said with a gasp.

  “I promise, I’ve got her. Concentrate on sitting tight.”

  Bo might have been old, but she was light on her toes, and without waiting for a signal from Sass, she stepped out. Sass could feel every muscle in the horse’s back ripple like water. It felt odd and wonderful. She was riding, almost.

  “Don’t grip too hard, just let your legs hang down.”

  “But you said ‘sit tight’?”

  “I know”—he frowned briefly—“but what I meant to say is that if you want her to go forward, then all you have to do is squeeze with the insides of your calves. The rest of the time, sit still.” He ad
justed her ankle, his fingers brushing her skin. “Bo was a racehorse once.”

  “Really?” Sass’s stomach flipped.

  “It was a long time ago, but she was a winner. The whole village turned out to welcome her home.”

  “I knew she was special.” Sass felt brave enough to let go of Bo’s mane and stroke her neck, still glad that Alex was at the end of the rope. As they navigated the meadow, he talked to the horse in a steady murmur that worked for Sass too. At the end, she slithered down reluctantly and none too gracefully, conscious of the nearness of his hand.

  “Did you enjoy that?” he asked.

  Could he not tell? Sass held her breath, time ticking in slow motion. She turned away as a rush of emotion threatened to shush her.

  “It was perfect,” she blurted, lifting her head.

  His rare smile came out again and they walked back to the trailer with Sass leading Bo.

  “You can take her head collar off now.”

  “Okay, but show me slowly. I don’t want to forget.”

  “Undo the throat strap first … see here? Now stand with your shoulder under her chin and reach up.”

  He stood right behind her as Sass groped around Bo’s ears.

  “Pull the head piece down gently.” His hand closed over hers, his polo shirt at her back. She could smell soap and mint … and a hint of hay. The halter came away and Bo swung off to graze. She’d done it. Lesson one, accomplished.

  “You did well,” Alex said.

  “Thanks.” She scanned his face for any sign of mockery, but he seemed sincere. “I should probably let you get back to work,” she gabbled. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “I have a few more minutes. I doubt anyone’s missed me. Want to share this?” He took out a tangerine from his pocket.

  They sat by the creek and split the fruit, its citrus sweetness sharpening the air as the morning slipped away faster than water from the moat of a sand castle. Alex leaned back in the grass with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes with the sun on his face.