Page 8 of Hidden Memories

“Listen, I…” feel more emotional than I thought I would at this moment, and my eyes sting. “I applied to be a foster parent when Sandy told me she was sick.”

Light reenters his bright green eyes. “Why did you do that?”

It’s hard to explain the millions of explanations, how his fate seems to intertwine with mine. You can’t explain intuition or a feeling anyway. It just is.

I shrug. “You seem to like it here.”

Hope creeps into his shoulders, and tension releases. “Yeah. I like it here.”

“Alright then.” I cough through the emotion that’sbuilding. I guess the pair of us have this coping mechanism in common, too. “It’ll take some time. But…” I pat Hector’s shoulder to ground myself because my heart is racing. “I’ll get it sorted.”

He nods and chews the inside of his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The same reason you haven’t wanted to let yourself hope, buddy.Why do humans prepare themselves for the worst? Why do we resist hope so damn hard? The outcome is etched in fate, why not enjoy the ride along the way regardless? When bad shit happens, it doesn’t hurt any less if we’re so-called prepared for it. And when the outcome is fortunate, why did we drown in melancholy for the weeks leading up?

Should I be teaching this kid that hope is a bad thing?

I head back to my horse to buy myself some time to think of a wise answer, and when none comes, I’m glad I have a whole family to help me with the foster parenting thing because I am far from having it figured out.

I suppose there’s no better answer than the truth. “I guess I’m afraid I won’t be approved. And then I’ll let you down. Funny thing about life, Owen, is that our fears and anxieties don’t change much no matter how old we get. I’ve always been worried about letting people down.”

We click our horses into gear and head out of the gate where a ranch hand salutes me and opens it then closes it behind us.

Owen asks. “Have you let people down a lot? Is that why you think you will?”

I scroll through my thirty-four years of good, bad, and ugly. Letting people down wasn’t exactly my MO. It was more that my older brothers and little sister were always so much more responsible. “I always felt like I was the wildone. Maybe I felt like a bit of a disappointment when I was younger.”

“Youwere a disappointment?” He laughs like he can’t believe it. He makes one of those dry jokes he’s getting good at, the ones men all seem to use when things are going deep but we want to offer an out. “I guess your brothers are better-looking.”

“Hey now!” I crack a smile. “I think we need to get your eyes checked out.”

He laughs, and it’s nice to see he can still find his humor.

“I am perfectly secure with my appearance, thank you very much…” I decide not to let this moment get away from us just yet. I want to be close to Owen and I need to show him how to open up. “It’s just Enzo and Rio were always destined for greatness. Enzo is brainy, and Rio is just one of those guys you don’t say no to. Gabriel is some sort of superhero, so focused. And my sister, Shay, well, she’s creative. She got into college. I couldn’t seem to buckle down and never got the grades. All I had was my bravery, which oftentimes, my parents got confused with stupidity.”

“But you’re successful now. Luis must be proud.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Yeah. He says he is. But that’s just it, O. You can’t let your fears settle too deep. They’ll only get more pronounced over time, like palm lines…”

He nods, and I think he understands.

As we ride into the gentle warmth of a Sunday afternoon, the relaxed loping of the horses underneath, the birds chirping, nature surrounds us, and we have another one of those soulful conversations that I never have with anyone else.

Not since the tree.

Not since Kat.

Chapter Three

PAST

There are perfectlyfine stables much nearer to my college, but my father has always found clever ways to make me do what he wants me to do. The stables, not far from Mount Hamilton, are far enough east to take me away from the college beach days and the potential for experimentation. Because of the travel, I’m a good girl by default.

I check the girth on Ares, who is likely to act up after being cooped up all week again. To come ride Ares takes up an entire day, not to mention I now do the groom’s job. Of course, as soon as I went away to college,Dad decided I should taste the “real world” and only pays for a groom three days a week, whereas in high school, I had full board. I love taking care of my horse, but on the weekdays when I don’t have a groom, I only have time to muck out and then turn straight back.

My boy is too young not to ride daily, especially as a warmblood. They are easily bored. Ares sneezes, and I wonder if they’re soaking his hay like I asked when I’m not around.

I glance around at the peeling paint on the stables and the rusted hinges on the yard gate. It’s a bit of a ghost town, a far cry from the pristine competition yard I was on in high school. Horse riding is the only thing my dad and I ever agreed on, and it always felt good just having one thing about me he approved of.

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