Page 15 of Christmas at the Ranch
I drag myself back into the present as Charlie says, “Okay, so let’s address the elephant in the room.” My heart seizes in my chest. “I’m sorry about the way you’re being treated in town.”
I blink a few times, catch my breath, slow my heart. He doesn’t want to talk about Tate. And why would he? It was years ago. It was between me and Tate. And Tate’s not here.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the Evergreen grapevine is still fully functional. It was always robust, from what I remember.”
“Yes, well, now it’s been streamlined. That Business Owners’ group chat never shuts up.” He shakes his head. “I keep meaning to ask Tate to tell me how to mute it but we always get busy with something else and I forget.” Then he shoots me a sidelong smile. “Small towns, you know. Everyone’s in everyone else’s business. Sometimes literally. Now, let me guess what brought you here at this exact time.”
Now my heart rate gallops completely out of control. How am I going to handle Charlie saying he can tell I obviously have never fully gotten over his son?
Except that’s not what he says at all. Yet again, he doesn’t mention Tate and me and what happened between us back then. “You came here to apologize to Gill on behalf of your family. To try to make things right.”
“Oh.” I have no idea what to say to this. The fact that this isn’t at all why I came jabs at the shame that is so close at hand, pulls it up into my consciousness again so it’s all I can feel.
“And to offer him money, probably,” Charlie continues, which just makes it all worse. “But I don’t think you should do that,” he concludes.
I open and close my mouth, but can’t think of anything to say that will help.Sorry,I didn’t come here to apologize to Gill andI have no money to give him. I gave it all to my mother, who is still throwing her annual Christmas party while my father is in jail.
“It’s okay, kiddo. This is hard, I can tell. But I don’t know that you talking to Gill will help. Emotions are running high, obviously. And while I think it’s really quite admirable of you to have rushed here to try to make it right, I just don’t know if you can accomplish that right now. Gill is a softie in some ways, but a proud man, too. It’s going to take a while for him to accept help.”
“Charlie, that’s not why—”
“No, I must insist that it’s just not a good time to go talk to Gill.” He shakes his head, his voice still kind, but firm.
All I can do is nod and force a weak smile. Thankfully, we’ve reached the paddock fence, which is a distraction. Reflexively, I search my parka pockets for a mint. I place my empty hands on the wood of the fence and watch two horses in the paddock together, one a large bay—mahogany-brown coat, coal-black tail—running back and forth at the south end. She reminds me of Mistletoe until she turns her head toward me and I see the distinctive marking isn’t there.
But there’s another horse nearby, full of energy. Kicking up snow, dashing back and forth, almost as ifshe’s showing off to the others. And then, she stops and looks over at us.
She has a coat the color of dappled sunlight. Spun gold. Fresh hay. She nickers and trots in our direction. That’s when it comes into focus: the blaze up the center of her aristocratic forehead that ends in a star.
Charlie chuckles, his mood lifting. “Here she comes. Our Star.”
He reaches into one of his pockets and hands me a scotch mint. I take it and hold my palm flat, filled with sudden reverence.Star.I was here the night she was born. Star dips her head to take the mint and her muzzle grazes my skin, a soft brush of velvet. Then she steps back, crunching and staring. Once she’s finished the treat, she tosses her head and whinnies, while Charlie chuckles and tells her one is enough. She sidesteps one more time and paws the ground, as if waiting for a different answer, before shooting me what I’m sure is a haughty look, then turning and trotting back the way she came.
I turn to Charlie. “I haven’t thought about her for years,” I say, my voice filled with emotion.
“Really?” Charlie raises his eyebrows. “You’ve never thought of her?”
How can I tell him the truth? I haven’t allowed myself to think of her is more accurate. I’ll always remember my eighteen-year-old self breathlessly telling Tate and Charlie that the night Star was born was the most memorable night of my life. Helping during a foaling, especially one as complicated as hers, is an unforgettable experience. All at once, my eyes are filling withtears. I blink them away fast and turn back toward the paddock, hoping Charlie didn’t see.
It almost seems as if Star did, though. She’s stopped in her tracks, and her head is lifted, as if she’s caught a scent. She turns to me, gives me a long look, then lets out a whinny before galloping in a circle. I think of something Tate told me once, years ago.Did you know a horse can sense your heartbeat from four feet away?
“That girl,” Charlie says. “Even at ten years old, she still acts like a damn filly. And against all odds, too, since she was a preemie. You remember.”
“I remember,” I breathe, the words coming out in puffs of white air, lingering in front of my lips as if I could reach out and touch them. “Ten years. I can’t believe it.” But I can, of course. I know exactly how long it’s been since I’ve stood in this spot or been near this horse.
“We all got a little older, didn’t we?” He tips his cap forward to reveal a head full of gray. “I’ve turned into Father Christmas.”
“Aw, Charlie, you look the same, just like this place. The hair only makes you look dignified.”
“Dignified!” He laugh-shouts the word and a horse in the paddock whinnies a response. “Don’t think that’s quite the right word for me, but I’ll try to keep impressing you.” He turns and watches Star thoughtfully for a moment, then looks toward me and tilts his head.
“You still ride?”
“Not since I was here.”
“You know what they say, right? ‘It’s just like riding a horse.’ You never forget.”
I laugh. “I’m pretty sure the saying is ‘It’s just like riding a bike.’ ”
