“Now, off to the arena. That’s the large circular area right there.” He points next to us.
I go around the outside of the area and lean on the rails to watch him.
He leads Mia into the area and brings her closer to me. “So, you always do everything on the left. I stand on her left, mount from the left, all that.”
In one smooth move, Sabin steps a foot into the left side stirrup, grabs Mia’s mane, and pushes up, swinging his right leg over her. I see how perfectly suited he is for this. He takes her on a slow walk around the edge of the circular pen, all the while talking to her and stroking her mane. Not that I have any expertise, but Mia seems very responsive to Sabin, very tuned in to him.
He loosely holds her reins and makes a clicking sound, and she picks up her pace a bit so that they are trotting rhythmically. When he slows her down and looks as though he might stop, I call out for him to keep going. I drop my arms on the railing and rest my chin down.
I could watch him forever. This is Sabin at peace.
It seems he’s been wearing that cowboy hat all these years for a reason.
I hear footsteps scraping across the gravelly road behind me, and I tense. If that parallelogram parasite has come back for more, I’m going to beat her to a pulp. Ready to do battle, I turn.
Mercifully, it’s not her. It’s a man with brown hair and gray streaks, a thin but solid build, fitted Wranglers that hug him well, and intoxicating pale blue eyes. He’s a little Paul Newmanish, and I try not to giggle and blush when he introduces himself.
“Hi, there. I’m Pearce.” He actually tips his hat to me.
I somehow refrain from curtsying in response when I shake his hand.
“I’m Blythe. It’s very nice to meet you. You’re Sabin’s boss, right? And this is your property? It’s just beautiful here.”
“Well, thank you. And that’s right. You’re Blythe from Maine? Sabin’s talked a lot about you. Happy to have you here. You and the family are all around for a few weeks, I believe.”
“Yes, we’re renting a place in La Jolla.”
He whistles and gives me a smile. “Not too shabby. Glad it’s slow right now with work. He’ll have plenty of time to spend with you all. First time in California?”
“First time in California and first time this close to a horse,” I say.
“Well then, let’s do this right.” He waves Sabin over, and when he gets within earshot, Pearce says, “Why don’t you get your girl Blythe up on Mia?”
“Yeah? I didn’t know if that’d be all right with you.”
“Of course it’s all right with me. You know what you’re doing. You know how to be safe. And I don’t think you’d let anything happen to this young lady, would you?”
“No, sir,” Sabin says.
“Good. Get her a helmet though. Protect that pretty head.”
“Wait, what?” I know my eyes are as wide as they can get. “You want me to ride? I don’t know how to do that! I can’t…I can’t…um…”
“Sure you can,” Sabin says.
“Sabin will take you nice and slow, right?”
Sabin nods. “I’ll hold the reins and walk her around. You just sit there and enjoy.” He looks to Pearce.
Pearce nods at him. “You’re in good hands,” he says as he backs up and waves. “Shepherd here has a way with all the animals, especially Mia. A natural rider, that boy is. Have fun, kids.”
My knees might not be actually shaking, but I am a little nervous when Sabin buckles my helmet for me.
“You’re gonna love this, B.” He moves a small step stool next to Mia’s left side and helps me get my foot into the stirrup. “Now, just grab on to her mane and then push up and throw your right leg over.”
“I have to grab her mane? Doesn’t that hurt her?”
“No, not at all. You can grab the horn if you want instead.”
“There’s a horn? Like a car?”
Sabin laughs loudly, and I glare at him until he stops.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Not that kind of horn. This. The sort of knobby thing on the saddle.”
“Oh. Okay. If you laugh at me again, I’m not getting on.”
“I promise I won’t.”
Miraculously, I get up on the first try. Sabin does have to put his hands under my ass to push me all the way on, but I still count it as a success.
I sit up and exhale.
“Perhaps not the most graceful mount I’ve ever seen, but you did it!” Sabin says happily.
“And you got to touch my ass!”
“I did! Win-win!”
Sabin holds Mia’s reins as he slowly walks us around the ring, and I love every second of it. Mia is incredibly gentle and calm, and soon enough, I relax into the ride. We go around the arena three times.
“Do you want to hold the reins and ride by yourself?” he asks. I must look hesitant because he adds, “I’ll walk right next to you.”
I agree, and he hands me the reins.
“How do I tell her where to go?”
“If you want her to head right, just open up your right arm a bit—don’t pull on her mouth or anything—and take your right calf and put a little pressure on Mia’s right flank. She’ll understand what to do. Give it a try.”
So, I do, and I’m surprised when just the pressure of my leg on her side gets her to turn. “She did it!”
Sabin smiles. “She did. What’s interesting is, when horses are in the wild, the alpha mare always nips at the flank or shoulder of the other horses to direct them where to go. A lot like a dog herding sheep. So, we just copy that. In a sense, we become the alpha. They understand pecking order. Pearce says horses are like toddlers. They like structure and boundaries, and they love being praised.”
I make Sabin take my picture, but right after, I wave him back to my side. I ride like this—technically on my own but with Sabin only a few feet away—for twenty minutes. We don’t talk. We just walk and ride, and it’s utterly perfect. I see why he loves this so much. It’s almost meditative.
“You look very handsome, Sabe.”
He does. The cowboy hat, the sun hitting his cheeks, the stunning backdrop of this priceless property—it all enhances how good he looks. I have tremendously missed him.
Sabin rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, whatever. Hey, you getting hungry?”
“Totally. You’ll help me down?”
“Of course. So, you’ll want to shift your weight into the left stirrup, and then as you kind of half-lie across the seat of the saddle, you’ll kick out that left foot and basically hop down by pushing with your hands and chest. Kick your left leg from the stirrup, and swing your right leg back over and off.”
I do what he says, and again, my dismount is as ungainly as I predicted. I pretty much slide off the horse and then stumble back.
“Easy there.” Sabin catches me with two hands and rights me before I totally wipe out.
I take his hands and pull them around my waist as I lean back into him. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a big deal. Just didn’t want you to crash on your landing.”
“Not for that. For today, for this. For being you. For being my best friend.”
Sabin tightly hugs me, and in this moment, everything is right.
We spend the rest of the day eating tacos, driving by the coast, and stopping at a few produce stands. Then, we go back to the tree house and pack up a few things for Sabin to bring up to the La Jolla house. I assume that Sabin will ride up with me, and I am beyond appalled when he informs me that he’ll be taking his motorcycle.
“Motorcycle?” I nearly scream. “Since when do you ride a motorcycle? They’re dangerous. Oh God, Sabin.”
For a minute, I try to believe that he’s joking, but he walks to a lush area near the base of the tree house and shows me his bike. I feel ill. I don’t like the idea of Sabin zipping around on this thing.
“Don’t you worry for one second. I got
me very good noggin protection.” He grins and sets a helmet on his head. “And it’s got a lucky horse painted on it. See?” He taps the shiny helmet and drops the visor down. “Let’s roll, baby!”
I white-knuckle the steering wheel on the drive back to the house as I try to pay attention to the road in front of me and not the fact that Sabin is riding too fast and constantly changing lanes. He’s probably intentionally riding like an asshole, and I’m nothing but relieved when we both pull up to the house.
Chris comes out to greet us just as I’m about to clobber Sabin.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” I scream while Sabin looks annoyingly bemused. “What the hell?”
“Ah, saved by the brother.” Sabin turns to Chris. “Again.”
Chris tackles him in a hug. “Nice bike, man.”
“See? Chris gets me.” Sabin hugs him back, but I could swear that I see restraint there.
I only notice it because I know Sabin so well—or at least, I think I do. Maybe I’m wrong because Chris just seems thrilled to see his brother, and he’s not reacting as though Sabin is not himself.
I grab some of the stuff from the car while Chris examines Sabin’s death mobile and asks lots of questions.
“We have to get a tree!” I call back to them as I head inside.
“We will!” they answer.
“Christmas is coming!”
“We know!”
“Everyone will be here soon, and we have shit to do!”
“We get it!”
“So, come on!”
Now that Sabin is at the house with us, I’m really geared up for the rest of the group to arrive, and I call a meeting of sorts on the deck, so we can make a list of everything to do.
Sabin flops into a chair and faces the water.
I rest my head in Chris’s lap while I type on my phone. “Okay, so we obviously need a tree and ornaments. Wrapping paper, name tags for presents. And food. What are our Christmas Eve and Christmas Day menus?”
Chris and I bounce around ideas, but Sabin mostly stays out of the conversation, either scrolling through his phone or staring at the water view.
Chris gets up to assess where to set up a tree in the living room. Before he goes inside, he kisses me on the mouth. “Glad you got to ride a horse. The pictures you sent were awesome.”
“And did you see the videos of Sabin riding? He’s amazing.”
“I did. Very, very cool. I’m happy that you two had such a good day. He’s a good brother and a good friend.” Chris kisses me again and pats Sabin’s arm before he leaves the deck.
Sabin still hasn’t moved, so I stick out a leg and lightly kick him.
“What’s up there? You’ve been very quiet.”
“Just looking for dolphins.”
He seems tense now, edgy even, and I don’t know why.
“Such a big fucking ocean, huh? It just goes on forever. All that water, full of currents and riptides, with hidden dangers everywhere. But it looks so damn pretty, doesn’t it? You’d never know.” He shifts in his chair. “Look, it’s kind of silly for me to stay here. I’ve got a place. I think I should just sleep at home.”
I sharply sit up. “What are you talking about? Why would you do that?”
“I have work to do, horses to feed and stuff.”
“You don’t have work now. Pearce told me you’re free, and I’m sure he’ll feed the horses. Sabe, you have to stay here. We’re all staying here. That was the plan. I don’t…Sabin…”
“Okay, okay. Easy there…”
“Besides, I put three rubber duckies in your bathtub for you. You can’t leave now.”
He cracks a smile but keeps his eyes on the water. “Well, in that case, I guess I do have to stay.”
I feel an underlying anxiety creeping through my system. I felt it yesterday and this morning and again now as I watch Sabin while he watches the ocean.
Estelle is wearing the most inappropriate and tightest red spaghetti-strap nightgown, and she’s sitting on my brother’s lap with her arms around his neck. If I weren’t so damn happy to see her and if it weren’t Christmas morning—or closer to Christmas afternoon, given how late the college kids slept—I might casually throw a poncho over her. As it is, I’ve decided to embrace all that is Estelle. That also meant that I had to turn up the ceiling fan in our room last night to muffle the noise coming from the bedroom she was sharing with James. Both of them look so unbelievably gooey in love that I can’t be mad.
And at least she threw on a bra under her nightgown, so Christmas miracles do exist.
In lieu of his usual cowboy hat, Sabin has on a Santa hat and is handing out presents. “As we have about reached the end of the whole point of Christmas—the whopping gifts—Estelle, my favorite sister, this is for you. I expect that the high-quality nature of this gift will excuse me from any other gift-buying over the years to come.” He lugs a large rectangular item from behind the tree.
“Oh, no.” Eric covers his face with his hands. “I can’t look. I just can’t.”
“What?” Sitting next to him, I lean in. “What is it?”
“I’m pretty sure I have an idea, and just be happy that you don’t room with her anymore.” But he’s smiling.
Estelle leaps from James and claps her hands together. “Gimme, gimme, gimme! Gimme the goods, baby!”
Chris is smirking in the corner, so I imagine that Sabin filled him in. “Estelle, get ready to have your socks knocked off.”
She tears open the paper and absolutely squeals with pure delight. “Oh my fucking God, Sabin Shepherd! How in the hell are you so goddamn fucking brilliantly perfect?”
She’s bouncing around and totally blocking my view until she turns the gift toward the room and holds it above her head.
“Holy…shit,” I mutter.
“It’s a goddamn Rhinestone Jesus!” she shrieks.
It is, in all its freakish glory. I can hardly believe it. How Sabin managed to find a framed Jesus image done entirely in rhinestones is beyond me.
“I fucking love it!” Estelle is beside herself. “RJ’s in the house, baby!”
She sets it down, and James catches it just as Estelle jumps into Sabin’s arms and wraps her legs around his waist. It’s a good thing her nightgown has such a high slit on the side.
“And I fucking love you!” Repeatedly, she noisily kisses him on the cheek until Sabin is rolling his eyes and trying to detach her from his body.
“If I’d known you’d freak out like this, I would have left it at the flea market.” But he’s still grinning.
The scene before me is what I was hoping for—well, maybe not the Rhinestone Jesus part—and I scan the room to take it all in.
Chris and Sabin found the most massive tree, which I’m still surprised fits in the room, and we decorated it very simply with white lights, red bows, and a few handmade ornaments that we bought at a local shop. Not that a tree is the most important thing about this holiday, but it’s a nice backdrop for being with the people I love most in the world. I feel settled and complete when we’re all together.
Eric retreats from Estelle’s continued whooping and comes with me to the kitchen to help cook. I’ve mapped out a rather elaborate meal. I might have gone overboard with how much food we’ll have, but the college students have been eating dorm food for months, and Sabin’s clearly been gorging on fast food. Granted, the tacos we had the other day were delicious, but I’m afraid he hasn’t eaten anything healthy in months.
Opening the oven, I check on the standing rib roast that I started a while ago, and then I start peeling and thinly slicing potatoes for the gratin. Eric fills me in on his classes while he simultaneously starts a chocolate mousse and assembles a giant salad. If I find a green pepper in my dessert, I’m going to be annoyed, but he seems to have a handle on things.
“So, one more semester, and you’re done. You ready for it to be over?” I ask.
“For sure. I’m really glad I took this extra year, but I’m p
retty over studying all the time.” Eric does look tired, but he is also as bubbly as always about his academics. “I’ve been doing an independent study. Did I tell you that? My professor is so great. She lets me pick out all my own reading materials, and I can write about whatever I want. My room has been filled with thick books on ancient Greece. It’s so fun. The Internet only gets me so far, and you know that I kinda dig the library.”
“What are you going to do after graduation?”
“Well,” he says, “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
For a second, I have some silly fantasy that he wants to move to Maine, but that can’t possibly be on his agenda. Then, I know. “Oh! You and Zach?”
He smiles but keeps his head down as he adds freshly washed arugula to the salad. “Yeah. I’m thinking about asking him to live together.”
“Okay, I love that you’re all Martha Stewart while focusing on your salad when there’s a more pressing issue, but stop salading, and give me details! Where do you want to live? What’s he doing next year? Tell me!”
Eric sets his hands on the counter and looks at me. “I had a feeling you’d like this idea. Zach is looking at a few job possibilities in Chicago, and we could be happy there. We haven’t talked about plans too much, and I think he’s being cautious, not wanting to push me or anything. But here’s the thing…” He lowers his voice a bit. “I don’t know if I can leave Estelle. I don’t know what she’s doing next year, and…Blythe, you know, she switched majors before me. Do you really think she had a burning need to study sociology, and that was worth an extra year of college? What’s she going to do? Become a sociologist?”
“I don’t understand.”
“She didn’t want to leave Matthews. I think she feels safe there.”
“Oh, Eric. Did you switch your major to stay with her?”
He starts chopping a cucumber. “Yeah. Kind of.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “She got kind of messed up for a while. You know that. I didn’t want to leave her. But now, I’m going to have to—unless she wants to come to Chicago or wherever I end up. But there’s James now, and…I’m just not sure what to do.”