BETTY
Ipolished hooves in the barn aisle when I spotted a pair of sneakers.
“Bets?”
I looked up, eyes locking on Mary’s confused face.
“Mar!” I said, trying to deal with my current task. “I’d hug you, but… my hands are full of hoof polish.”
I stood to see her father standing from his wheelchair to say hello.
“Give me just a second to finish this hoof and I will properly greet you all.”
“Are you painting that horse’s nails?” Mary asked.
“Yes. Sorta. I don’t even know why. We don’t need it for cross-country, but I like seeing her put together. She’s so fabulous. I love a grey.”
I stood back up as Jaz came around the corner.
“Can you hold this?” I asked.
She held out her hands. I snapped off my rubber gloves and turned back to Mary and herdad.
“Hi. Sorry. It’s all hurry-up-and-wait here.” I gave Mary a big hug, not sure what I could do.
She never mentioned her father’s views on her sexuality. I didn’t know if she told him we were dating.
“You smell like horses,” Mary said.
“I don’t notice it, but it’s probably every day.”
“Betty, this is myfar, Erik Jensson. Dad, this is Betty.”
He held his hand and spoke Swedish, “So nice to meet you.”
“And you,” I said.
“Pappa understands a lot of English, but doesn’t respond in it as much. If anything confuses you, I’ll translate,” Mary explained.
“I think I can keep up,” I agreed, switching to English. “Uh, Mr. Jensson, this is Jaz, another rider. She’s helping me out. Jaz, this is Mary’s dad.”
“Nice to meet you, sir. I speak English and Spanish,” she clarified. “No… whatever we’re speaking here.”
“Swedish,” Mary said. “Betty is always invoking it to manipulate me.”
“No comment,” I said.
“I will tack her up,” Jaz offered. “Go up to the show office.”
“Yep,” I said. “I hope you didn’t mind but I rented your dad a power chair.”
“What?” Mary gasped. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I did,” I insisted. “I wanted him to be able to enjoy the course rather than just hang out in the barn.”
The minute she told me about her dad having trouble navigating a field, I thought about how I could make it easier. Golf carts were common, but I remembered power chairs from my Florida events. I called the office and, sure enough, there was a vendor willing to drop off a chair. If Betty was bringing her dad, I wanted him to feel included.
Mary turned to her father.
