Chapter 2
After promising Kestrel that I’d ride to meet her when she came over in two days for our weekly visit, Mom and I left her parents’ ranch and continued toward home. It was early evening by the time we turned off the dirt road and onto the narrow track that led to our cabin. I drooped in my saddle as we rode. I could tell Mom was worn out too by the way she rode beside me, but there was more than tiredness getting her down. Her forehead creased with worry lines and her eyes looked pained. When the look didn’t disappear as we neared home, our safe place, I became even more troubled.
“Mom, is everything okay?”
She sighed.
“What did Edward say?”
“How do you know I phoned Edward?”
Uh oh. “Um, I guessed. What did he say?”
She blinked rapidly for a second or two, almost like she was blinking back tears. Now that was worrisome. I could try demanding answers, but it had never worked before. I’d tried being non-emotional and businesslike in the past too, with the same result. So maybe I’d have better luck being sympathetic and understanding.
“It must have been awful, whatever it was.”
“Everything’s okay, Evy.”
“Is there something I can do to make things better?” I felt like such an ungrateful daughter. Why had I never asked that question before? I sucked.
Mom just shook her head and stared down at Cocoa’s dark mane.
“I’d be glad to help, if there’s anything I can do.”
She smiled at me, but her sad eyes didn’t meet mine. “There’s nothing you can do. I… I… well, honestly, I just feel like such a failure sometimes.”
What? Had I heard her right? My mom, the brilliant artist, the awesome mom, the wilderness survivor, the most patient home school teacher I’m sure this world has ever known, felt like a failure?
“You are so not a failure,” I said with as much emphasis as I could muster. “Not even a little bit. Don’t even think it.”
She looked up at me, openly surprised at my vehemence.
“You’re awesome,” I continued. “Even though I’m not supposed to say that, being your kid and all, and after today, I’ll deny I said anything. But you are. Totally great. I mean it.”
Tears studded her eyes. “Really?”
I nodded. “You’re my hero,” I said in an oddly croaky voice. And I wasn’t joking or lying or anything. My mom is my hero, even if she’s incredibly frustrating. Even if I constantly wish she’d trust me more and tell me things.
She turned her head to stare out over Cocoa’s ears. Ahead of us, Twilight glowed in the evening light as she high-stepped in a circle, her tail in the air. She sprung straight up, as if on springs, and landed on four stiff legs, then kicked up her hind end and raced around the corner. She’d be the first one home tonight.
Mom laughed. “That horse of yours is a strange one, Evy.”
I was relieved to hear her laugh. Maybe, she was okay again. No one is tougher than my mom. No wonder I admire her.
“I know,” she said, sounding suddenly enthused. “We’ll do it ourselves.”
“Do what?” Finally, she was going to tell me why she’d called Edward.
“We’re going to build a new room onto our cabin.” She smiled at me. “We’ve lived in two tiny rooms for long enough.”
“Really? That’s great! Last winter almost drove me crazy, being stuck inside during that cold snap.”
“I know. Me too.”
“So how do we do it?”
“The old fashioned way. We don’t need boards and nails. We have lots of trees in the forest that have died or been blown down. We’ll use them and make a log addition.”
“Log addition?”
“Yeah, we have a saw and an axe.”
“Saw? Axe?” Okay, so I sounded a bit stunned, but I just couldn’t picture my mom swinging at a tree with an axe. A five foot four lumberjack. Right.
“Yes, saw and axe,” she repeated slowly, as if talking to a toddler.
“Just so I know I heard you right,” I persisted. “Us. Saw. Axe. Then us taking said saw and axe and cutting down… trees?”
“No, not you. Me.”
“But I want to help too,” I said, quickly turning on my whiny voice. Ridiculous as it all was, I wanted to be involved.
“Maybe a little. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself. And remember, I am awesome. And heroic.”
Throwing it back in my face, and so soon! “I don’t remember saying that.”
She laughed. “I know what I heard. And you’re right, by the way. I am quite awesome.”
Okay, so no wonder I’m just a little bit sarcastic at times. I get it from my mom. “So is Edward bringing us any nails?” I still didn’t see how we could do a whole addition without nails.
A tight expression constricted Mom’s face. “Edward can’t help us.”
“Why not?” Though I pretty well knew why not – but hearing it from her would confirm what I’d gathered from the phone call, plus it would give Mom a chance to tell me something, for once.
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now, Evy. And besides,” she added resolutely, “this is a blessing in disguise. It’ll be educational and we’ll be far more proud of it when it’s done. I think we should put it beside the living room area, with the door connecting near the stove. That way, it’ll be warmer in the new room at night.”
“What’s the new room for? A real studio?”
“It would make a fantastic studio, don’t you think?” Her voice actually sounded dreamy. “There’d be a lovely view of the lake on one side, the meadow on the other.”
I didn’t mention that to have a view, we’d need windows and that they cost money. She didn’t need to hear that just when she was starting to feel better.
We rounded the corner and our tiny cabin appeared, nestled on a rise. In front of the cabin, the land rolled down a gentle slope to a wild meadow and in back it sloped down to a small lake, the source of our water supply. A few trees stood around the small building, offering a bit of shade in the summer and a small protection from the wind in the winter. Our barn, where Rusty, Cocoa, and Twilight lived, sat at the side of the meadow, and that’s where the horses headed, completely ignoring the house.
Their delight and anticipation rose as we rode nearer, and it was a light, humming feeling. They could hardly wait for the yummy oats and hay, and the relaxing pleasure of the grooming they knew I’d give them after their long day.
We dismounted outside the barn and I held out my hand for Cocoa’s reins. “I’ll take care of her.” Evening was one of my favourite times of the day and I wanted to be alone with the horses so we could talk.
“Thanks, Evy. I’ll get dinner started. Don’t be too long.”
I watched her walk toward the house, her stride fast and strong. There was no longer any sign of the bad news she’d heard from Edward today. Good thing I’d eavesdropped or I’d have no clue what was happening. It was hard to be too mad at her though, because I knew why she was keeping this secret. She was protecting me. She didn’t want me to worry. But how could I not? If people stopped buying her paintings we might be forced to leave our home so she could get work somewhere else, and that would be terrible.
What would happen to Rusty, Twilight, and Cocoa if we had to leave? Could they go with us? Horses are considered a luxury in most parts of the world. If we lived somewhere else – okay, anywhere else – they would no longer be a necessity. They’d become a hobby; a hobby I knew we wouldn’t be able to afford.
Rusty bumped me with his nose. “Yeah, buddy. I know. Lots of lovely oats.” I led the three horses into the barn. They’d done a good day’s work and deserved all the nice things I could give them. Relaxing into the horses’ satisfaction of a day well lived, my worries started to fade.
People can learn a lot from horses. For one thing, they tend to not obsess about what might be, preferring to deal with things as they happen. Plus they’re amazingly open
creatures. There’s none of the twisted stuff where you feel admiration, irritation, and frustration toward someone all at the same time, as I sometimes feel with my mom.
I felt my body unwind and move into the rhythm of our nightly rituals with relief. Right now, I wanted to enjoy being with my uncomplicated, truehearted friends. I wanted to give them food and groom them, one by one, and listen to their calm thoughts. I wanted to relax with them. Such a heavenly idea.
But that meant no more thinking about those dastardly, infuriating secrets, and even more, about the terrifying life-changing events they might contain.