Page 174 of Catch the Sun

Chuckling, she sends me a smile, her teeth extra white against dark skin and plum lipstick. Natine readjusts her sage-green headscarf as two golden earrings glint in the sunshine. “I was going to head over there this afternoon. Aside from manure, all I’ve been smelling this weekend is deep-fried everything. My hips are telling me no, but my heart wants Oreos on a stick.”

I giggle as we stroll side by side toward my RV, my knee-high boots sinking into chill-hardened dirt. “Give me twenty minutes to hop in the shower and I’ll be your Oreo wing-girl.”

“I knew you were good people.”

“Of course you did. When you met me, I basically had ‘Chosen Little Sister’ written all over my face as I ass-planted in the mud.”

“Your face was more ‘Holy shit, I’m about to ass-plant in the mud,’ but, sure, we’ll go with that.”

I nudge her playfully with my shoulder. “We’ll definitely go with that.”

It’s true that I made a subpar first impression when I drove up to Natine’shorse ranch over two years ago, lost, exhausted from months of directionless traveling, and eager to hop on a horse again for the first time in years.

It didn’t go well.

Turned out, I wasn’t quite the bright-eyed, confident rider I’d once been. The horse sensed my faux self-assurance and decided to play with me, hightailing it into a full-on gallop the moment my feet were in the stirrups. I hunched forward, trying my hardest to stay in the saddle, but it was too much, too soon—I biffed it.

Natine laughed as she ran toward me.

And thus, our friendship began. There I was, floundering in a mud puddle with a bruised tailbone, while Natine, a wise and nurturing presence at the age of thirty-five, stood steadfast by my side, extending a hand to pull me to my feet. She pulled me to my feet in a lot of ways, giving me a temporary job on her ranch as a stable hand while I continue to search for a more lifelong career in the equestrian field. She’s also let me live on her property in the rusty old RV Chevy sold to me for $9,500—well under listed value. I used the remaining $40,000 of the inheritance from Grandma Shirley to travel aimlessly before fate landed me at Diamond Acres, one of the few horse farms in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan—making my job hunt difficult—and I still have a lot of that money left over, considering I enjoy living simply. A good portion of ithas gone into making my RV sparkle. It doubles as not only my home, but also a small business I started up to sell books and my own bookbinding creations.

I like to call it a modern-day bookmobile. It’s served me well, keeping income flowing in, while allowing me to do what I love.

The last two years have been pivotal in my healing process, and regular visits from Mom, Ricardo, Brynn, and Kai have kept me focused on that uphill journey. Excitement has been blooming all week as I gear up for my twenty-first birthday.

Excitement that is only dimmed by one thing.

And that one thing is a constant reminder of what I gave up in order to find my healing.

There are days when I wonder if I made the wrong choice. Those are the dark days. The shadow-fogged, dreary days of wallowing, eating too many carbs, and video-calling Brynn with tears streaming down my face. She tells me he’s doing well, visiting with his father in an assisted living center and thriving in a business with Chevy. What began as a side gig in house-flipping has now blossomed into a flourishing career for both of them.

Still, it hurts.

I miss him so much.

There’s a hole in my heart, a hole in my entire life. A painful missing piece. And the only thing that comes close to filling it is the Michigan air filling my lungs as I ride my favorite horse, Midnight, through pastures and golden fields, pretending he’s galloping by my side.

He is.

I never let him go.

The RV comes into view and I wave a quick goodbye to Natine as she curves toward her small white ranch house. “I’ll pop by in a few,” I tell her.

“Take your time, Ell. I have some paperwork to finish up.” She stops, swivels toward me. “Oh, hey, you still have that interview on Sunday morning? At the new horse farm a bit west of here?”

“Yep,” I call out over a gust of wind. “Ten a.m.”

“Bummer. I was secretly hoping you’d stay here forever.”

“Yeah, right. This RV is an eyesore and you know it.”

“But you’re not. I’m really going to miss you.”

We share a soft look as I readjust my wool hat and waver by my makeshift home on wheels. Part of me wouldn’t mind staying here forever, but I know, deep down, Natine and Diamond Acres are just beautiful stepping stones to my final landing place. My ambition to specialize in professional horse training brought the disappointing realization that the Upper Peninsula doesn’t offer many opportunities in that field, so I’ve found myself dragging my mud-spattered feet, reluctant to bid farewell to my dear friend.

To my surprise, Natine got wind of a new farm that just opened up thirty miles west of here. She even helped me secure a job interview on Sunday as a stable manager, which happens to be the day after my birthday. Nailing down a job in my desired field while also staying close to Natine would be the best birthday present ever.

I holler back before traipsing toward the RV. “Nothing is official. You might be stuck with me forever.”

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