Freefall: Book Three in the Defining Gravity Series, page 10
We followed them inside, Hilary walking woodenly beside me with a far-off look on her face, a small smile playing over her lips.
“Oh, there’s Susan,” I said in surprise. I should have guessed that the Ling’s might be there, since WorldCor was a pretty big sponsor of the club.
She looked up and caught my eye, smiling and waving us over.
“Astrid,” she said, giving me a genuine hug. “You look super. I missed you at school last year.”
Even though we’d never been exactly friends, I’d always liked Susan. We moved in completely different circles at school so had never spent much time together outside of WorldCor parties. She was smart and had a wickedly sarcastic streak, so I’d always been grateful that she’d never turned her sharp tongue on me, even when it became obvious that I had that ridiculously painful crush on her out-of-my-league older brother.
“Come sit down,” she said, pulling out a chair. “Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”
It turned out that we were sharing a large, round table with Darius, the handsy coach Nancy, the Lings, and a few other people I half-recognized from my dad’s work. There was a brief flurry of activity around the table as everyone found their seats.
Susan pulled me down beside her and Hilary sank to her seat on my other side without saying a word. The second my dad reached the table, Nancy appeared out of thin air and planted herself beside him. Marion raised an eyebrow but sat down quietly on his other side silently, a smile fixed on her face.
I wasn’t sure how it happened, but Darius somehow managed to slide himself next to Hilary, even though I was positive someone else had been sitting there a moment before.
I filled Susan in about my time at the ranch, and Hilary sat beside me pretending to listen and smiling automatically whenever I turned to include her in the conversation.
Our dinner arrived, and I mostly concentrated on my delicious plate of ravioli while the general conversation turned to squash. My dad held court at the far end of the table, telling stories and cracking old-person jokes while both Marion and Nancy looked up at him like every word coming out of his mouth was the most brilliant thing ever.
I didn’t mind, though; everyone looked like they were having a good time and it was nice to see my family actually happy for once.
Hilary was more like her old self by the time we were halfway through dinner, although she hardly ate anything. Even though Darius was beside her, he spent most of his time talking to a guy on his right; as far as I could tell he and Hilary didn’t so much as glance at one another.
Finally, dessert came, a silky hazelnut crème brûlée topped with deliciously burnt sugar, and then the lights dimmed, and someone tapped on a wine glass to start the speeches.
Various people took turns getting up on stage to thank sponsors and hand out awards and things. It wasn’t as boring as I’d expected; many of the speakers had had quite a bit to drink by then so they were pretty funny. There were slideshows of things that had happened over the year, and I actually found myself laughing at all the silly jokes with everyone else.
When I glanced over at Hilary at a particularly funny part she was watching the stage, but her face was pale and immobile in the dim light, and she’d placed both her hands on the table as if she were ready to push herself upright and bolt at any moment.
I was about to ask her if she was all right when I noticed that Darius’s hands were on the table, too, and that his left one had slid over to lay next to hers, and their pinkie fingers were touching slightly in a way that could have been an accident but probably wasn’t, and for some reason that small thing made me flush and look away as if I were seeing something I shouldn’t be.
When I glanced back again they weren’t touching at all and maybe I’d just imagined it.
There was an announcement, and when I turned back to the stage, it was my dad climbing the stairs, and Marion and Nancy were both applauding madly; Nancy added in a few of those high-pitched obnoxious wolf whistles that made Marion shy away like a startled horse.
“Thank you, everyone,” my dad said, “for making our club’s inaugural year such a successful one. Every single one of you should be proud. Because of your hard work, we have one of the finest facilities in North America, a credit to our city. Because of you, we are poised to host world-class international competitions, creating an economic benefit to the Island we love and putting our city on the global map.”
“I’m pretty sure we were already on the map,” Susan whispered under her breath and winked at me, grinning.
I laughed and poked her lightly in the ribs. My dad’s speech wasn’t that bad, and it was nice to see him excited about something rather than being just manic and angry all the time. It made him seem much more human, and I felt a rush of something like affection for him. But then, of course, he had to ruin it.
“On a personal note, I’d like to thank our coach, Nancy, who is passionate about our great sport and works tirelessly to both make us better players and to promote squash to the world. And, of course, I’d like to thank my family, my wife Marion, and my daughter, Astrid, for putting up with me. Ladies, I have a surprise for you.”
At that, I sat up straight and went very still, like a rabbit sitting frozen in the middle of a road with an oncoming car barreling toward it.
The lights dimmed, and an image popped up on the screen behind him; a huge grey motor home splashed with sponsor logos across the side.
“Welcome to our new home for the summer.”
It can’t mean what I think it means. I thought numbly, he can’t be serious.
Hilary came alive beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Astrid, what is he talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I said miserably, “he didn’t say anything about this before.”
My hands shook under the table and I had the sudden feeling I was about to be sick.
I looked up to see Marion watching me, her face pale and tense. She made eye contact with me and then shook her head slowly back and forth. I could only hope that it meant that there’d been some mistake. Marion would take care of it; she always did.
“Wow, Astrid, that sounds like a good time,” Susan said dryly, “good luck with that.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said flatly, remembering what I liked least about Susan. She was fun but not exactly supportive.
I glanced over at Marion again, but she now looked so calm that I almost managed to convince myself everything would turn out okay.
My panic had mostly evaporated by the time the event ended and I was able to say goodnight politely to everyone at my table without dropping to the floor in hysterics.
I just have to hold it all in until I get to Hilary’s, I thought, just a little bit longer.
Chapter Five
“Could you drop us off at the barn, please?” Hilary asked when we turned into her driveway. “I have to do night-feed before we go to bed.”
“Oh, but you’ll get your nice dresses dirty,” Marion said, “and your shoes.”
“We’ll be careful, I promise,” Hilary said. “I swear I won’t let Astrid get so much as a smudge on her.”
“Let the girls have their fun, Marion,” my dad said jovially. He was still glowing from his win earlier and from the party.
Marion laughed and shook her head. “All right, then. I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon, Astrid. You can call when you’re ready.”
Hilary thanked them again for the invite and then we hurried out of the car, Hilary tugging on my arm so I just had time to grab the backpack I had stashed in the back seat.
We waited in the dark entryway of the barn, holding our breath until the car turned around and crunched back down the driveway. The horses nickered quietly in their stalls, feet shuffling through the shavings, all of them probably wondering why we were being so slow to bring their dinner.
“Oh, Astrid,” Hilary whispered, “this is awful. What are we going to do?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, my hands shaking.
“Can you refuse to go? You can just stay here with us for the summer.”
I paused, hope blooming in my chest. But I couldn’t just ask Hilary’s parents to take me in for an entire summer when they were clearly up to their ears in renovations. They’d always been so good to me and I didn’t want to be a burden…again.
“I don’t know,” I said, too tired to even think about it anymore. “Maybe Marion can talk him out of it. We should give these guys their night feed.”
I flicked on the aisle light and padded in my flats to the hay room.
I held the hay out carefully in front of me, not wanting to get any on my dress and tip-toed to Red’s stall where he waited patiently in front of his manger.
Hilary followed me slowly and when I turned around to go back for more she was standing right behind me, looking completely miserable.
“Hilary?” I said, stopping in confusion. “Are you okay?”
“N…no,” she said, tears pooling in her eyes. “No, I’m not. Astrid, you can’t go. You have no idea how far in over my head I am on this project. I told my parents I could handle it but…but I honestly have no idea what I’m doing.”
“What? Hilary, you’re doing a great job.”
“No, I’m not. I love horses so much, but this is not how I thought it would be. I hardly have to time to do any of the other things I like. I’m good at a lot of things, Astrid, but figuring out when grain and hay and bedding needs to be ordered before it actually runs out and coordinating the vet and the stupid farrier who you have to book months in advance, that stuff I’m terrible at. And that mess with the indoor; I don’t even know if they’ll come back at all.”
“Hilary, you’ll figure it out. You’re good at everything.”
“That’s so not true,” she said miserably. “I make mistakes all the time and sometimes I think I must be crazy. Like what happened tonight….”
“What?” I asked in confusion.
But instead of answering, her lower lip trembled and then she began to cry, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.
I stared at her in horror, not having a clue what was the matter, but finally, I remembered that friends were supposed to comfort one another when they were upset, and I went and wrapped her in a hug. She turned and pressed her face into my shoulder, sobbing and sniffling until finally she took a deep breath and pulled herself upright.
“Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and smiling at me through her tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Tell me what’s going on?” I said. “Was it Darius? Did he say something to you?”
“No, well, sort of. Astrid, do you believe in fate?”
“Um, I don’t know,” I said lamely, wondering if maybe she’d gotten into the wine at dinner while I wasn’t watching. Hilary had a tendency to be dramatic, but she’d completely lost me this time.
“Astrid,” she said, clasping her hands together, “the second I saw Darius it was like a lock clicked open inside my chest, as if he was the only person in the whole wide world who carried the key. And the crazy thing is I think he felt it, too. Does that make sense?”
“Do you mean that you like Darius?” I said in astonishment. “I know he’s beautiful and everything, but you don’t even know him. Plus, he’s old…well, older than us anyway. He hangs out with my dad so he’s probably a jerk, Hilary.”
“He’s nineteen,” she said dreamily, turning to stare out at the darkness, “and I turn seventeen in a few months, two years isn’t much. And besides, it has nothing to do with liking him. This is something bigger than us, I told you, it’s fate. God must be directing us together.”
Jerry nickered sleepily in his stall and I turned slowly back toward the hay room.
“Hilary.” I sighed, wondering how to say this gently. “I’m no expert on boys, but back at the ranch I watched nice, normal girls fall in love with Kade on a daily basis. He was beautiful and charming, but that didn’t mean he’d make a good boyfriend at all. He made them crazy and he left a path of broken hearts in his wake wherever he went.”
“Do you think Darius is like that?” She frowned at me, looking more like her old self and less like a lovesick puppy.
“I honestly don’t know him; I just want you to be careful, is all. Take your time and actually find out what kind of person he is.”
I wasn’t sure exactly where all this good advice of mine was coming from. It wasn’t like I had any real experience to back it up.
“I guess you’re right,” Hilary said reluctantly. “It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened to me, either. I thought the last one was fate, too. And that didn’t work out at all.” Her head shot up and she clapped a hand over her mouth, staring at me wide-eyed.
“It did? You never told me that.”
“Oh, it was a long time ago,” she said quickly. “I was young and stupid, and I’d just prefer to forget it.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, wondering at her sudden mood shifts.
“You give great advice, Astrid. That all makes perfect sense and I feel much better now. Come on, let’s go make popcorn and stay up late watching movies. Everything is going to be just fine.”
I wasn’t sure if she was exactly fine, but I was glad she wasn’t crying anymore. Before we left, I snuck into Red’s stall and kissed his forehead carefully and wished him goodnight.
To save our shoes we walked barefoot up the driveway, walking on the edge of the gravel on the soft grass and laughing and stumbling the whole way.
We changed into pajamas and made popcorn with extra butter and stayed up watching horse movies that made us cry, and Hilary didn’t say one more word about Darius or fate. Not even once. And that should have worried me more than anything.
Chapter Six
The next day, when my alarm went off at six like usual, Hilary groaned and burrowed back under her covers grumbling until she fell back asleep.
Well, I guess that leaves me to feed the horses, I thought, crawling out of the guest bed and rummaging in my backpack until I found the clothes I’d packed the night before. I dressed quickly in the chilly morning air, pulled my hair back into a messy pony-tail, and padded downstairs.
My paddock boots were still in the barn, but I wasn’t about to walk barefoot all that way this morning. I slipped on a pair of rubber boots that were by the front door and crossed my fingers that nobody would mind that I’d borrowed them.
I slipped outside and inhaled deeply in the chilly, morning air, and lifted my arms in a big stretch, luxuriating that I got to spend another entire day in the country.
I took my time walking down to the barn, wishing I had my aunt’s dog Jake loping alongside me or even Caprice. Sometimes it was just nice to have a dog around keeping you company.
The horses were dozing outside in their paddocks when I arrived; Rabbit was closest, and he raised his head and nickered sleepily when he saw me.
“Hey, everyone,” I whispered, rolling open the big front doors and letting the early morning sunlight filter into the barn.
Huh, huh, huh, the horses said in a chorus, shuffling through their thick bedding to stand at the front of their stalls, heads hanging into the aisles.
I fed them hay first, dropping flakes into each stall and making sure that everyone was eating before I went to mix grain. Hilary had soaked beet pulp the day before and the feed chart was neatly written on a white board in the tack room so it was easy to mix their supplements together.
I dumped everyone’s feed into their buckets, and then stood back and closed my eyes just listening to them eat; there was something incredibly soothing about the sound of horses crunching their breakfast.
I grabbed the wheelbarrow and pitchfork, but before I started cleaning, I texted Rob.
Hey, are you up yet? I sent. Still want to go for a ride?
Of course I’m up, he sent back, just finishing chores now. How many free spaces do you have left in the barn?
Um, three, why?
Okay, I’ll bring them all then, as long as you don’t mind helping me exercise. See you in a half hour.
Great, I wrote.
Help him exercise? I thought, slipping my phone back into my pocket and lifting the wheelbarrow. What does that mean?
I picked around the horses without moving them out of their stalls, and had everything cleaned and swept and the feed room prepped for evening grain by the time Rob’s trailer rumbled up the driveway.
A bubble of nervousness rose up inside me; I hadn’t seen Rob since Christmas and I didn’t know what to expect. But it dissolved the second I saw him and his dad again in person.
“Astrid,” Rob said, coming over to give me a tight hug as if it hadn’t been months since we’d seen each other last. “I’m glad you’re home. Help me unload these beasts?”
“Sure.” I laughed and inhaled quickly before he pulled away, savouring the warm, earthy scent of him. He was dressed in breeches, half-chaps and a blue polo shirt, and I felt underdressed in my oldest pair of half-worn breeches and a scruffy t-shirt with a hole in the armpit.
“Good to see you, kiddo,” his dad said, wrapping me in a warm hug, too. “Glad you’re home to keep this boy in line.”
“Oh, I doubt he needs that,” I said, laughing, and we went around to the back of the trailer to where Rob was already dropping the ramp.
“I’ll hand you Artimax,” he said, opening the back door, “and I’ll bring Ferdi, and then we’ll come back for the other two, okay?”
“Sure,” I said, “I’m not sure where we’ll put everyone, though.”
Artimax sauntered out of the trailer like he’d done it a million times before, completely ignoring the hysterical tantrum Rabbit was having.
“Wow,” Rob said, frowning over his shoulder at the big thoroughbred. “That horse needs some exercise. He looks miserable.”
Artimax followed me easily to the barn and into the stall beside Red. I slipped off his halter and he sauntered around, sniffing every inch of the stall like he owned the place, and then strode outside to get what was left of the grass in the paddock.
