Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Absolutely,” my mom adds in the tone that says she won’t take no for an answer. “It’s a beautiful evening and there’s no time like the present.”
I turn to Wade. “You in?”
“I’d love to go,” he replies, looking a bit torn. “But I’ve got plans tonight with some buddies.”
The same buddies we went to see the Whiskey River Gang with this past weekend. They’re a tight pack but I can only take them in small doses. They’re all about the party lifestyle and I’ve moved beyond that.
Kat stands from the table, grabbing empty plates to take to the sink. “Gabe and I have to get going. There’s a new distillery that opened up in Versailles and they’re doing a tasting tonight.”
“Checking out the competition,” Marcie teases.
Gabe snorts with derision as he too stands to clear plates. “There’s no competition to Mardraggon but I am curious to see what they’re putting out.”
The rest of the family follows suit, something we always do after a big dinner, the many hands make light work mantra never truer. Miranda always leaves after she serves dinner as we’re more than capable of cleaning up.
Holland jumps right in, as she always did whenever she sat at our table, but I touch her shoulder. “There are plenty of people to clean up. Let’s go get a ride in before it gets too dark.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says hesitantly, the bread bowl in her hand. She’s not balking because she needs to help clean up—she doesn’t want to be alone with me. I can see straight through those brown eyes to the bitterness lurking there.
“Holland,” my mom chides, taking the bowl from her. “We’ve got plenty of help, so ye two go on and have some fun.”
Holland turns to Ethan, and I don’t miss the pleading in her request. “How about you, Marcie and Sylvie? Want to come?”
Ethan shakes his head, rubbing his hand over Sylvie’s hair. “This one has been nursing a summer cold so it’s an early night for her.”
“Oh,” Holland says, and boy can I see those gears clicking inside, trying to figure a way to weasel out of this.
I don’t give her a chance. “It’s settled then. We can be saddled up and out of here in fifteen minutes.”
“You two have fun,” my dad says, and my mother beams.
Kat turns from the dishwasher where she’s loading plates as Wade rinses them. “Can we do lunch tomorrow, Holland?”
Holland looks overwhelmed but then says, “Yeah… sure.”
“Let’s go,” I say, nodding toward the mudroom that leads outside. I don’t turn around to see if she follows and I figure there’s a good chance she’ll just leave, but I’m relieved to hear her footsteps coming down the porch steps behind me.
It’s silent as we head to the lesson barn which houses those horses used to teach people to ride. The lesson horses are usually a bit older and mellower, far better suited for a ride through pastureland. Not that Holland and I can’t handle spicier horses, but I don’t want to have to worry about any complications.
Holland doesn’t say a word and I’m okay with that. I figure I’ll get her on the horse first, out into the countryside, and when she’s relaxed, I’ll be able to say my piece. Inside the barn, comforting smells of hay and horses greet us. This is my happy place.
I show Holland to a stall where a chestnut mare waits, coat gleaming in the low light. “This is Ginger.” I pat the horse’s neck. “She’s a sweetheart.”
Holland smiles, running her hand along Ginger’s side. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’ll give you a quiet ride.” I move to the next stall and open it up to lead Dash out. He’s a gelding that just came out of show retirement but has taken well to lesson life.
Holland nods and we tack up the horses together. I notice she works with efficiency and confidence. Once we’re ready, we lead them out into the pasture and use a mounting block to put our butts in the saddle. The sun hangs low but still plenty of light left. We ride in silence for a while, the only sounds the soft thud of hooves on grass and the occasional snort from the horses. Holland gazes around and I notice her taking a few deep inhales of the fresh Kentucky air. She looks at everything but me and stubbornly holds her silence.
Eventually, we reach the pond where we used to fish as kids and I dismount. She looks hesitant at first but then follows suit, leading her horse alongside mine as we walk around the northern edge.
“Remember when we used to come here?” I ask, my voice soft.
“It was a lifetime ago.”
“It’s where you and I started,” I say, stopping to face her.
Her expression hardens, lips pressed flat. “I remember.”
She says a lifetime ago, but for me, it seems like yesterday.