“Why were they horrible?”She sounds offended that I didn’t tell her.
I sigh.“Not in any specific ways, but my horse is really green, and he has a lot to learn, and our dressage test was?—”
“Your dressage what?”
“Test, Mom.That’s what they call the dressage part, remember?”
“Huh.You’d think I’d remember that they just stole their words from school.”
I wouldn’t think that.She forgets almost everything I tell her about horses, because it’s all boring and meaningless to her.She still can’t tell when my horse has changed leads.“It’s fine, Mom.I’ll look at the calendar and make some suggestions.Did my gifts arrive in time?”
“Oh, Samantha, they were such a hit.The girls loved those little wool sheep with the caps.Your sister about died when she opened that Herringbone coat, and you know me.I’ll beprayingwe get a cold front in Florida so I can wear my new scarf.”
My mom thinks anything under seventy degrees is a cold front.Most Floridians agree with her, but still.
“I’m glad.Did Dad like the shoes?”
She raves about the custom shoes I had made for at least five minutes.She knows nothing about horses, but everything about men’s dress shoes.My dad has worn fancy, leather-soled shoes every day of his life.He’s a lawyer down to his DNA, I’m pretty sure.
“Well,” I say, trying to think of a way to wrap this up.I need to refresh my email.“I guess?—”
There’s a truck rumbling its way down our long drive, a massive lorry.And notably, there’s a horse trailer behind it.I peer at it, trying to figure out why we’d have a truck headed our way on Christmas Day.I blink.
“—better let you go.Those rolls aren’t going to make themselves.”
“Right.”My mom, in true Southern form, always tells me she has to ‘let me go,’ like I’m dying to hold onto her, but it’s just not possible.In her mind, it’s the only polite way to get off the phone.“I love you, Mom.Merry Christmas.”
“To you too!”I hear squeals behind her, which tells me that she’s already at my sister’s and her kids are awake, probably combing through their stockings right at this moment.
When I hang up, the truck has reached the barn, and I realize it’s Richard’s horse trailer.The family crest’s emblazoned on the side in gold and black.It’s two enormous bucks, holding a black shield like they have hands.It’s a little disturbing, especially since the shield has three deerheadson it, so why are they holding it like it’s on display?I suppose if it was two humans holding up a shield with human heads, that would be macabre beyond belief.
Anyway, I prepare myself, because if Richard’s here with a horse trailer...what’s he doing?When Aodhán climbs out of the lorry and circles around to the back of the trailer, I can’t help myself.I have to intervene.“What are you doing?”
“I’m unloading a horse.”He’s smiling.
“And are you alone?”
He frowns.“You didn’t know Richard flew back to London yesterday?”
Part of me was hoping Richard was with him, I realize.“Uh, well, I thought he might have changed his mind.”I sigh, because it seems like Aodhán doesn’t know.“We broke up.”
His jaw drops.“If you broke up, then why...”He whistles.“Ireallyshould have dated him.”
“If only he liked men.”I laugh.“Then why the trailer?Does he have more semi-retired horses for my program?”As far as breakup gifts go, it’s not a bad one.Only, the horse Aodhán leads outisn’ta semi-retired or even an almost-to-retirement horse.It’s one of the few horses in Ireland I would never forget, not if a yearor tenhad passed.
It’s Cachacco.
“He told me to bring her papers.”Aodhán hands me a letter.“For what it’s worth, he really, really loves you.It was so obvious that I just...”He shakes his head.“I don’t ever get involved in this kind of thing.”He winces.“But if Idid, I’d be rooting for you to work this out, whatever it is.”
Richard’s giving me Cachacco for Christmas, even after we broke up?It makes me wonder whether Richard’s trying to work it out, too.I can’t imagine him giving that horse away unless he was pretty sure he’d still own her.I’m half-smiling when I open the papers.Surely he included a note, right?Maybe he had to go home, because he said he would, but he wanted me to know that he’s sorry.Maybe he’s decided I don’t need totryto have kids.
Maybe I am enough.
Dearest Samantha,
Off to a good start.
I tried at first to send you flowers.I thought you’d understand.Then I sent you chocolates.I bought you dozens of rings.I tried everything I could think to let you know what you meant to me.
