Page 61 of Riding the Storm
Matty stands near the big folding table, her eyes dancing in the firelight and maybe from the two cocktails she’s had. Shelby and Harleigh are on either side of her, cutting up like kids as they try to keep her from peeking at the cake. Grandma Evelyn’s at the head of the table, holding a lighter steady with both hands, the little flame flickering in the breeze. Imma Jean stands proudly behind the masterpiece she made—three tiers of perfection, frosted in cream, decorated with sugar flowers and chocolate fence rails, with a fondant figurine of Luna, Matty’s mare, on top.
“All right, everybody, gather round!” I shout, pushing through the crowd. “Birthday girl’s about to make a wish!”
A birthday wish. Our mother always made sure we each made one on our special day. She swore that birthdays held special magic.
Matty groans. “Y’all, I made a wish last night.”
“Lucky you gets two this year,” I call above the noise.
Her eyes flicker to me. “I told you, I’ve already got everything I could ever want right here!”
“Oh, come on. You can think of something,” Shelby says, nudging her. “It’s Mom’s tradition.”
Grandma leans forward, her silver curls loose tonight, and presses thelighter to the wick of a big pink candle shaped like the number twenty-eight. The flame catches and dances to life.
“All right, girl,” Grandma says, smiling, “make it count.”
We all start singing, loud and off-key, the way we always do. Even Daddy and Grandpa join in, deep voices rumbling beneath ours. Bryce is somewhere behind me; I can feel his gaze but don’t turn around. I focus on Matty, who’s beaming, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
When we hit the final line—“happy birthday to you”—I yell, “Make a wish, Matty Storm!”
She closes her eyes, her lips moving in a whisper none of us can hear. Then she opens them again and blows out the flame. Smoke curls, carrying her wish up into the sky.
The crowd claps and cheers, and Imma Jean swoops in with a knife, cutting the first slice for Matty while she leans closer to admire every detail.
“Oh my gosh, Imma Jean!” Matty gushes, running her finger gently along the fondant Luna’s mane. “It looks just like her! You even have the little white spot that looks like a half-moon on her muzzle.”
Imma Jean waves her hand, trying to hide her proud grin.
Matty’s smile softens as she looks at the bridle looped around the tiny horse’s neck. “Wait,” she says, her brow creasing slightly. “This isn’t … fondant.”
“Nope,” Caison’s voice cuts through the chatter.
He steps out from the crowd, his dark blue shirt rolled at the sleeves, collar open. He looks like the perfect picture of calm, but there’s a nervous flicker in his eyes.
Matty tilts her head, recognizing the leather immediately. “Is this”—her fingers tremble as she lifts it gently off the cake—“a bracelet?”
He nods. “Yep. Like the one you admired at the shop in town. I had it made for you,” he says, his voice carrying across the porch.
Her eyes flicker up to meet his. “Case …”
He steps up behind her, takes the bracelet from her hand, carefully fastens it around her wrist, and whispers in her ear. “Happy birthday, baby.”
She beams as she extends her arm to admire the thoughtful gift. “It’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” Her voice is soft and shaky.
“Look closer,” he says.
She blinks, confused, then glances down at the bracelet, squintingat the engraving burned into the leather. Her brows draw together as she reads the words out loud, voice catching halfway through. “Be my riding partner for life?”
A hush sweeps over everyone. The laughter fades, replaced by a loaded silence that stretches across the yard. Matty’s hand flies to her mouth as her eyes widen.
“Case,” she whispers, “what—”
When she turns around, he’s on one knee, his eyes fixed on hers. In his hand, an open ring box glints in the twinkling lights.
Everyone gasps in unison. I hear Shelby’s sharp inhale, Grandma’s and Marcia’s soft sobs. I catch Daddy’s misty eyes across the crowd. A look of pride on his face.
Matty just stands there, frozen, her mouth hanging open, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
