Her Summer Crush, page 22
“Are you excited?” Cody slowed to negotiate a turn in the winding road.
“Yes. Coming home is always exciting. Don’t you think?”
He shot her a smile. “All the more so this time, because I’m with you.”
So much had happened since that day on the beach when she’d joyfully accepted Cody’s ring. First they’d flown to Denver to meet Dex and Shar, who stood up with them while they were married. Then they went to LA to catch a flight to Peru and the archaeological expedition, where Luci was hired as a writer. Her job was to take the archaeologists’ notes and write them up into formal reports, a task she found both challenging and interesting.
Now, they were taking a beach break, as Luci called it.
Finally the Welcome to Willow Beach sign came into view. Cody turned at Seaview Avenue, continued on a few blocks and then pulled into the driveway of his old home. Since Olive had married Mel and moved in with him, the house now belonged to Cody and Luci.
“I’m so glad to be home for a while,” Luci said.
Cody put the car into Park and gazed at the house. “Me, too.”
Surprised by his enthusiastic response, she said, “You mean that?”
“I do. I’m looking forward to sitting in my favorite chair, putting my feet up and vegging out in front of the TV. Guess I’ve become a nester, after all.”
She laughed and kissed his cheek. “A part-time one, anyway.”
They hauled in their bags, opened the windows and aired out the house. They hadn’t been there long when Luci’s mother phoned. “We’re expecting you for dinner tonight,” she said.
“We’ll be there.” Luci let a beat go by and then added, “How about the rest of the family?”
“Can’t tell you any more. I want you to be surprised.”
At the appointed time, Luci and Cody drove to the Monroe home. Cars and trucks were parked all along the driveway. Luci stared. “What’s going on?”
Don stepped into view and waved them forward. Cody stopped and rolled down his window. “There’s a spot saved for you over there.” Don pointed to an empty space near the house.
Luci leaned across Cody and asked, “What’s happening?”
Don’s eyes twinkled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Cody parked the car and they got out. Holding hands, they walked around the side of the house. As they stepped into the backyard, someone shouted, “They’re here!” and a cheer went up.
When she saw the banner proclaiming Welcome Home, Cody and Luci! she pressed her hand to her cheek. The backyard was filled with people. For the next few minutes, they were busy exchanging hugs and handshakes. The party included Olive and Mel; Ben and Sylvie; Glen Thomas and his wife; Marge Delano and her husband; Eva and Mark Townson; Tessa and Carl, and so many more that Luci lost count as she and Cody circulated among the guests.
“I’m gonna have to take some pictures.” Cody was already reaching for his camera. “This is too good an opportunity to pass up.”
“Go for it, honey,” Luci said, having become quite accustomed to her husband’s addiction to his profession and loving him all the more for it.
While Cody took his photos, Luci joined her father and mother, who stood together on the patio near the barbecue, where her father was keeping an eye on his chicken. “Mom, Dad, I’m so glad to be home again. Having us all together is like old times.”
Her father put his arm around Luci’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “Our family’s complete now you’re here.”
“We’ve missed you,” Anna said, kissing Luci’s cheek. “And I’m looking forward to hearing all about your and Cody’s adventures.”
“And I want to hear about yours, too,” Luci said. “Especially that cruise you two went on to celebrate your wedding anniversary.”
“That was special,” Anna said, smiling at Erv, who grinned back and grasped her hand.
When the food was ready, they all trooped to the buffet table. The salads included Olive’s potato salad and the desserts Anna’s sponge cake. After dinner, while Cody exchanged stories with Max Billings, Ben and Don, Francine and Luci wandered to Anna’s rose garden, where the lowering sun highlighted the red, orange and yellow blossoms.
“So Dad and Mom are getting along now?” Luci asked.
Francine nodded. “Like they’re on a honeymoon. They really do love each other.”
Luci fingered one of the rose blossoms, the petals soft and moist to the touch. “What about you and Will?”
“I’m still living in Oceanside, but we’re going to counseling. And guess what? I’m a Girl Scout leader now.”
“That’s wonderful, Fran. I’m sure Betsy and Megan appreciate spending time with their mom.”
As they continued their stroll, Luci spotted her father and brother drinking coffee together on the patio. “Looks like Don and Dad are speaking again.”
“Oh, yes. Dad even went fishing on Don’s new boat.”
“Has Arliss accepted Don’s new job?”
Francine tilted her head to the side, then said, “More or less. She loves her new day-care business, says it keeps her busy when he’s gone.”
“She does love kids,” Luci said.
Jason ran up to them. “Auntie Luci, Auntie Fran, look at our airport.” He pointed to a strip of sand at the edge of the yard where Spencer, Hannah, Betsy and Megan were playing with the toy airplanes. “We’re going to get one that really flies,” Jason said. “Grandpa promised.”
“He did, did he?” Luci asked, ruffling his hair.
“He sure did. He’s the best grandpa ever.” Jason ran off to join the other children.
“I’m glad to see him being part of the family,” Luci said as she and Francine headed back to the party.
“Yes, when Helen’s in town, she always brings him over for a visit.”
“She doesn’t come, though?”
“No, but Mabel Thompson brought her to the garden club, and I’m told she and Mom talked to each other. Seems they both love roses. Not that they’d ever become best friends, but for Jason’s sake, it’s nice they’re on speaking terms.”
“I’m glad for that, too.”
“What about you and Cody? Will you be in town long?”
“A couple months, at least. We have a lot to do here. Our first collaboration, a photo essay, is on exhibit at the Blue Gull Gallery. Then we’ve decided to do a book on the history of Willow Beach.”
“That should keep you two busy,” Fran commented.
They’d reached the patio, where Cody and Don joined them. “Did I hear my name mentioned?” Cody slipped his arm around Luci’s shoulders.
“I was just telling Fran about all our projects,” Luci said.
Don gave Cody a soft punch on his shoulder. “I told you that you two would make a good team.”
“And you were right, buddy,” Cody said. “You were right.”
Later, after the party was over and everyone had gone home, Luci and Cody took a walk on the beach. Hand in hand, they strolled along, watching the moon rise and cast a silver glow over the water. “This is the best homecoming ever,” she said.
“It is,” he agreed. “Because we’re together.” He pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss that left no doubt about the depth of his love.
Luci sighed with contentment. Her life wasn’t perfect and never would be, but as long as she was with Cody, she’d be perfectly happy.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from FEAR OF FALLING by Catherine Lanigan.
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Fear of Falling
by Catherine Lanigan
CHAPTER ONE
THE EARLY-SPRING DEW glistened as dawn struck the lush grass of the Barzonni training paddock. The only disturbance in the chilly air was the heavy snort, rhythmic breathing and thundering hooves of Rowan as Rafe urged his father’s prize Thoroughbred around the second quarter mile of track.
Rafe was far from a professional jockey, and at six foot one, he’d never aspired to the career, but no one knew Rowan’s talent, spirit and desire to run like Rafe did. Every beat of Rowan’s heart matched his own. Blood pulsed through his veins, suffusing his body and mind with oxygen, and Rafe’s lungs filled and exhaled the crisp, clean morning air like an elixir. His exhilaration grew as the horse sped up, and Rafe leaned his head closer to Rowan’s neck, shouting encouragement. He knew Rowan sensed his pride, his own need to push them both to their physical limits. No run was a test or trial. Each one was the end game. It was for the win.
At moments like this, Rafe and the horse were one, moving fluidly through space and time, gobbling up track as if they weren’t part of the real world. Together they were magic.
They were coming up to the third turn, so Rafe pressed his thighs into Rowan’s sides and dug in his heels just enough to communicate it was time for Rowan to unleash all his power.
Rafe and his father had built their home track together, board by board, truckload after truckload of precisely mixed sandy loam, clay and base soil when Rafe was only fourteen. Angelo had always dreamed of owning a Kentucky Derby winner, so they’d fine-tuned their track to the exact specifications of Churchill Downs in Louisville. And no ordinary racehorse would do. Angelo wanted fame, but not necessarily fortune—though his farm had yielded a fairly large one over the years. His four sons were his legacy, but a moment in the winner’s circle would erase all his beleaguered childhood experiences, or so he’d told Rafe. Rafe never once forgot what he was racing for.
Rafe’s father had come to America after living most of his young life on the streets in Sicily. Angelo had told the boys he worked hard because he never wanted anyone to take his land from him. As long as he tilled the earth and watched vegetables grow, he knew he’d never have to scrounge through garbage for a meal. Some townspeople said Angelo was a thief, that he’d stolen bankrupt farms from their neighbors over forty years ago. But Rafe never believed his father had done anything wrong.
The fact was that Angelo was a driven man. His need to control his future and that of his sons overrode everything else in his life. Angelo was not demonstrative or thoughtful. He didn’t often tell his sons or his wife that he loved them. Instead, he toiled from dawn till long past dusk to keep the farm solvent. His hard work had made him wealthy over the years, but Angelo never saw it that way. He was always one failed crop away from destitution. He taught his sons to keep their sights on the abundance that came from the earth.
Angelo was also a man of contradictions. Though he loved horses, he never bet on a race in his life. To him, gambling was the same as burning money. A waste. But the thrill of being victorious at a race, the prestige that came from owning a winner and the possibility that his name would be attached to a horse that made history was Angelo’s dream. And he didn’t believe in half measures. When he realized Rafe shared his love for horses, Angelo did everything he could to encourage Rafe’s passion and involvement in the sport.
Rafe had raced over a dozen Thoroughbreds around this track, but no horse had ever measured up to Rowan. He was the son of a Preakness-winning sire and a mare that had won over a million dollars at Santa Anita, Arlington and other tracks in her lifetime. Rowan had been born to race, and Rafe believed that with the help of their trainer, Curt Wheeling, they were finally about to triumph.
As Rafe and Rowan headed down the final stretch, Rafe tried to imagine what it would be like to be the jockey on Rowan’s back during a professional race. Thousands of spectators would be watching him, critiquing his skills, the nuances of the tugs he gave the reins, the directions he shouted into Rowan’s ears and the lean of his body in the saddle. They would cheer and yell for him, and his boyhood dreams would become reality.
The sound of Rowan’s hooves as they pounded the dirt filled Rafe’s ears. In the distance he could hear his father’s voice rolling toward him like an oncoming storm.
“Push him out, Rafe! Put your knees into him!” Angelo shouted. Rafe could see his father out of the corner of his eye, holding his stopwatch at eye level, and he smiled to himself. Angelo never let that stopwatch drift a quarter inch out of his sight, always fearful he’d miss a split second of vital clocking.
Curt Wheeling pulled off his ever-present cowboy hat and smacked it against the white fence. His thick salt-and-pepper hair sprang into a half-dozen spiky cowlicks. “Let him free, Rafe! Let him take you to the limit!”
Curt also held a stopwatch, the one his father had given him fifty years ago on his sixth birthday. Curt had come from a long line of horse trainers, and the Barzonnis were lucky to have hired him. Curt had been let go from his last job in Texas because the owner wanted a younger man. Since coming to Indian Lake, Curt had fit right in and had bonded with Rowan just as Rafe had.
Rafe heard their instructions and leaned his chest against Rowan’s withers, keeping his head low to reduce wind resistance. When he got this close to the finish line, Rafe always wondered how many seconds faster Rowan would be with a jockey who was sixty pounds lighter and nearly a foot shorter. At the same time, this ride was so thrilling that Rafe couldn’t—wouldn’t—dream of relinquishing the track to anyone else. Angelo always said that if Rowan could run with a lanky, hard body like Rafe’s in the saddle, he could race to the stars with a professional jockey. Training Rowan with an anvil on his back was good for the horse, his father had said.
“C’mon, boy! This is it! Now—fly!”
That was all Rafe had to say. Rowan’s strong legs beat out a rhythm that Rafe had never heard from any horse before. His hooves hit the ground and carried them so fast over the finish line that Rafe wasn’t quite so sure the horse hadn’t sprouted wings and left the earth.
Then something happened that Rafe had never experienced with his horse. He kept going. With each stride, he moved even faster.
Instead of pulling him back, Rafe let him run. And run he did. Rafe felt as if he was shooting through space. The air stung his eyes and he admonished himself for not wearing goggles, but he couldn’t have anticipated this. Last week Rafe had pushed Rowan to nearly thirty-eight miles an hour, but today he knew they were moving much faster. Most Thoroughbreds’ stride was twenty feet, but Rowan’s was twenty-six. He was a highly unusual horse, and it was becoming more apparent to them all that this year Rowan was about to meet his destiny.
But what confused Rafe was the fact that Rowan had never displayed this kind of power before. Why had he held so much back?
They were nearly halfway around the track before Rowan’s speed diminished even a millisecond. The horse was breathing so hard, it sounded as if his lungs would explode, though Rafe knew well that Thoroughbreds had exceptionally efficient cardiovascular systems. Breathing through his nose, Rowan drew in air when he extended his long legs, and he exhaled when his legs came together.
Finally, without any instruction from Rafe, Rowan slowed, turned around and galloped back to the fence gate where Angelo and Curt were clapping and grinning at them.
“That was unbelievable, son!” Angelo shouted with both arms raised jubilantly over his head, his stopwatch still in his right hand.
Curt opened the gate so Angelo could walk through and hug his son.
Rafe jumped down and wrapped his father in a tight bear hug. “Did you see that? Amazing! There aren’t enough words.” Rafe unfurled his arms from around his father and threw them around his horse’s neck.
Rowan stamped a hoof and bobbed his head as if he was taking his rightful accolades. “Way to go, boy! You are the best. The best!”
Angelo hugged Rowan, as well. “I knew this was a special horse the first day we saw him in Tennessee.” Angelo held the reins and stared into Rowan’s deep brown eyes. “He has soul, Rafe. You remember that. This is no ordinary horse. He deserves your time.”
