Blaine’s scowling, so I know it’s true.
“It’s fine,” I say, chuckling a little.“It’s nice to feel good at something, isn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Blaine says.“You aren’t any good either, Hannah.”
“Oh, boy,” Natalie says.“Hannah’s a very accomplished rider, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be as well.”She leans a little closer to Blaine, releasing her hold on Dara’s reins a bit.“And it’s good she’s great.It’s in your genes to have talent at this.Remember what we said about beingpositive, even when you feel frustrated.”
As if on cue, Scout reaches out and bites Rudolph the Red, one of my gift horses from Richard, and Scout’s nemesis, on the butt.Rudy kicks out, almost hitting Riona, who was behind and to the side of me, and chaos reigns.
Luckily no one falls off.
Once we get the horses settled down, Blaine almost losing hold of Teagan, we all rush to get them put away.After all, it is Christmas Eve, and everyone has things to do.I don’t have nearly as much as everyone else, though I am feeding all the horses alone tonight, since Rían has tonight and tomorrow off.Blessedly, Mrs.Murphy and her daughter are handling our three holiday guests, since they bailed on Thanksgiving.Natalie offered to host Christmas Eve dinner for our family, and Vanessa’s hosting Christmas Day lunch, so it seemed right that I relieve them from horse care as well.The weather seems to love me, because it’s hardly rained in the last two days, which means most of the horses can be out.
Not as many stalls to muck is a real gift.
Once I finish getting the horses put away, and I have their dinner grain all ready to go, I head back to my place, checking over the gifts I had lined up.I’ll look a little like Santa with a sleigh when I drive my car to dinner tonight.I think I managed to get something that each of the kids will like, and I already gave Trish her big gift.
It’s Natalie who’s the real question mark.
I had a gorgeous photo of her and Cillian I blew up and framed.So that’s clearly a disaster.I stuffed it in the back of my closet.I figure I’ll hold off on trashing it, just in case they reconcile.But then I had to rush to find her something else.I wound up buying her a gorgeous emerald green knit cashmere sweater, and I just have to hope she’ll like it.It was softer than the wool, by a hair, and made locally.
I mix up my almost-famous cranberry salad—the kids ate their weight in it at Thanksgiving, because of the marshmallows, I think—and then I have some time to kill.I notice Natalie has already emailed me some of the Christmas photos with a one-liner.Which is your favorite?
She included a few up-close ones of me she must have taken while we walked back, but the ones I like the most are of the three of us.In all the years we’ve been friends, we have hardly any photos of just the three of us.None of us with horses, not since we were kids.
I can’t help smiling.
But when I start looking at the photos with the whole family, focusing in on each child, I find myself becoming profoundly sad.I can see Natalie in each of her children, in different ways.Blaine’s tenacity.Hannah’s sunny disposition.Amelia’s people-pleasing, and Clara’s strong desire to defend and protect.Even Paul is like her, with his funny little quips.That’s manifest in physical details, too.Clara has her nose.Hannah is her clone.Blaine’s got the exact set of mouth when she digs in, and Amelia’s quizzical look is a carbon copy.Even little Paul’s hair is just like Natalie’s.
They’re all miniatures of their phenomenal mother.
The same thing’s true for Vanessa.I didn’t know her kids very well before, and I was guilty of judging Trace a bit before he came.It’s easy to let one thing color your view of people, who are all so complex.Sure, when he was hurting, he might have let things he shouldn’t in to feel better.But since coming to Ireland, he has really started to blossom.
I’m sure he’d hate that phrase.
But he has grown.Stronger.Taller.Bolder.
Natalie’s quietly freaking out that Trace and Clara are ‘dating,’ which is really code for sneaking around and kissing whenever no one is paying attention, but they also text each other constantly.I know, because they’re always looking at their phones, and then glancing across the room at each other with knowing smiles.
It’s really stinking cute.
And when Clara’s around, Trace is brighter.He tries more.He makes more jokes, and he stands taller.I’ve really enjoyed watching them date, not that I would admit it around Natalie.Even if Trace is more like his father than his mother, I can see her in his quiet kindness.I can see her in his little gestures, too.Handing his mother a pot before she asks.Opening doors for Natalie, Clara, and me.Picking up toys and putting them away before someone can trip.
Bryce is a mini-Vanessa.He’s kind.He’s responsible.He’s serious, and sometimes,too serious.He worries about people, and he spends a lot of time trying to mother, or maybe it’s father, them instead of focusing on his own stuff.But it’s all very well intentioned.
Trina’s a hilarious little mess who reminds me almost painfully of Vanessa when she was young.She was full of energy, and without direction, it just spilled out all over the place in exuberant joyfulness.
I can’t help wondering whatmylittle boy or little girl would be like, if I ever had one.
If I evercouldhave one.
But whenever I reconsider dumping Richard, whenever I wonder if his money might bring me the solution I could never find before, I think again about the deep and soul-rending pain that I felt every time I found out I was no longer pregnant.Every time my body wasn’t enough.Every time I couldn’t keep my own child safe, and they weren’t even out in the real world yet.
Then I think about how some of the kidslooklike their parents, and some just don’t.Trace only really looks like Jason.Paul looks exactly like Mason, other than his hair.Neither of those boys look at all like their mother.Without their fathers around, they could be adopted for all anyone knows.
Adoption.
I’ve considered it a million times over the years, but as soon as it comes to mind this time, I realize that for the first time, nothing’s standing in my way.
