Mariska

I sit up fast, breathing hard and sweating. That dream again. That stupid, nonsensical dream. Why do I keep having it? Rolling over, I reach for Stuart only to find his side of the bed is cold, and I start to cry. I feel like my heart is breaking, which makes zero sense. Still, the weight of my miserable insides pushes me down. Through the crack in the curtains I can see it’s morning. He left me in bed again without loving me.

Tears come harder, and I put my face in my hands trying to get a grip. I’m okay. I have no reason to cry. I’m sad because of the emotions of my dream, and I’m sure a good dose of pregnancy hormones as well. My shoulders shudder once more, and I hug my midsection remembering the intense fear, the panic and sadness. What does it mean?

Pushing the blankets away, I slide to the end of the mattress and go to the bathroom. Splashing cool water on my face, I hold the soft towel to my cheek and inhale deeply, in and out. Again… Inhale, exhale. It’s going to be okay. I’m okay. The dream isn’t real. I’m here with my new family and all the beautiful horses.

“Oh!” I say out loud, dropping the towel.

The idea of working with Jessie doesn’t entirely eliminate the lingering misery of my dream, but it helps. Quickly I brush my teeth then I dash into the bedroom and go straight to my dresser. A sleeveless floral top that ties at the neck and then hangs loose through the bodice is comfortable and cool. I scoop up my black knit mini from last night. It’s a flippy circle that ends mid-thigh.

My sketchpad and pencil are on the desk in the corner, so I grab those while I step into my short, black cowboy boots and head out the door. Noises from the end of the hall tell me I must be the last one in bed.

When I finally reach the great room, I see Bill talking to Sylvia while Winona stands by the stove stirring the contents of a black skillet with a wooden spoon. I’ve given up coffee for the duration, so I only give them a little wave before running out the door.

The sun is almost directly overhead, and the constant breeze pushes my hair off my shoulders. I don’t see Stuart anywhere, but it doesn’t stop me from dashing into the barn.

The crisp smell of fresh hay combined with the heavy odor of leather and livestock floods my senses. It’s a rich, comforting scent. I look all around, but still no signs of Stuart. I do see Freckles in her stall. Her white head with its stark black mane is in the alley looking out at me.

“Hey, girl!” I say gently, going to where she waits and holding out my hand to give her velvety nose a pet.

For the first time, she doesn’t pull back or make those funny, grunty noises. I take it as a good sign. She’s starting to like me.

“Where is your baby girl?” I say softly, scanning the otherwise empty stall. “I bet that naughty Stuart is out training her without me again.”

Turning on my heel, I skip up the alley and out the back where the circle pen and the yard are nearly side-by-side. Sure enough, my handsome cowboy is in the pen with my little horse. He has her on a line, and she’s running around while he turns with her.

“You keep starting without me,” I call, climbing onto the fence.

He glances over at me and gives me a nod. “I’m not going to do all the work. I’m just getting her over the initial stages.”

“How will I ever learn if you don’t at least let me watch?” Speaking of watching, I lean my head to the side, taking in his loose, faded jeans and untucked tan cowboy shirt.

“You’re watching now,” he says, turning his back as she goes and giving me a nice view of that tight, square ass.

“Looks good,” I say, thinking about the last time we were together in the creek.

I watch as he holds his hand out, and she walks to him. This time when she puts her nose in his chest, he strokes her neck, bringing those sexy hands up behind her ears.

“Good girl,” he says softly. “You’re getting it.”

“No treats this time?” I call out, giving him a wink.

He looks up, brow lined. “What?”

“I saw you giving her treats the other day.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “We were just getting to know each other. I don’t give her treats when we’re training. Teaches her to bite.”

“Really?” I move so I can sit on the top of the fence. “Why?”

“Just does.” He shrugs and studies my position. “Come over here and let her see you.”

“Okay!” I climb down and take slow, careful steps toward them.

“Come on now. Walk to us in a normal pace—not like you’re afraid. You’ll make her afraid.”

“Okay,” I say with less enthusiasm, trying to figure out my pace.

“Don’t be timid. Be assertive, a leader.” His voice is urgent. “Show her you’re in charge. But gently.”

My head is swimming with all these orders, but I take a breath and straighten my shoulders, striding toward them with confident thoughts.

“You’re walking like a robot.” Now he’s laughing at me. “Relax. Move your arms.”

“You’re making me self-conscious!” I whisper-cry.

“Do you remember how to walk?”

Narrowing my eyes, I stand beside him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Just move naturally.” He holds Jessie’s neck, and she only seems a little wary of my presence. I can’t wait to touch her out here in the open. “Slowly lift your hand and touch the side of her neck.”

“I thought you said not to move slowly.”

“When you’re reaching for her face, take it easy.” His voice is gentle, guiding. “You wouldn’t want someone jamming their hand in your face, would you?”

“No,” I say quietly, staring into her big black eyes. “She has such a pretty face.”

The black covering her nose is like a sheer veil with darker spots scattered across the bridge and between her eyes. The white spot in the center of her forehead reminds me of a little moon shining above it all.

“It’s almost as if her spot is casting a reflection down her face,” I say, and without thinking my hand moves from her neck to the white spot at the top of her head.

“Easy,” Stuart says softly, but she doesn’t pull away or even resist.

I place my palm flat over the white circle and look into her eyes. “Hello, girl,” I whisper. “You’re a beauty, did you know that?”

“I’ve never touched her there,” Stuart says in the same even tone. “She’s letting you do more with her than she lets me.”

“See?” My voice takes on a musical quality. “She’s my horse. I told you.”

Still, he stays beside me, not releasing her. “It’s good that she lets you touch her. She trusts you.”

“It’s because she knows I love her. I can’t wait to ride her.”

“We’re a ways out from riding. It’s possible we might not even make it that far before we have to leave.”

Pulling my hand back, I jerk my face to look at him. “What?”

The sudden change causes Jessie to pull back. She nods her head up and down, trying to lunge away from us, but Stuart holds her, stepping in front of me to block her with his body.

“Ho! Easy, girl.” He holds her nose making that clicking noise, and I feel terrible.

“I’m sorry.” My voice is back to soft. “I didn’t mean to scare her.”

He continues making the clicking sound, holding her. “Come on, it’s okay.” She lets him put his hand on her neck and then her face again, and I exhale the breath I was holding.

“Bill’s been working with her. She’s not going to lose ground so fast.” He’s got her back to him now. “Still, she has to trust me if I’m going to teach her speeding up and slowing down on the line.”

“And me!”

He looks over and smiles, and my stomach does a little flip. “She already seems to trust you. Sit up on the fence while I let her run.”

I skip back over to the fence and climb up while he makes a different noise to her. I’m starting to understand the different sounds are for different commands.

“What if someone works with her, and they don’t know all the sounds you make?” I watch as he follows her, jogging to the right.

“They’re pretty standard in the horse world. Bill taught them to me.”

My brow lines. “I don’t know any of them.”

“Just keep listening. You’ll catch on.”

I sit and watch as he leads her around and around until he takes a few steps toward her while saying whoa. She does not stop, and he repeats the process, shortening the line. They keep at it again and again until she finally stops when he gives the command.

“She’s very smart,” I call out from where I’m sitting.

He nods. “She learns fast. We’ll have to wait and see how much she’s like Freckles.”

I know he’s referencing her mother’s habit of being flighty and running away. Uncle Bill told me Freckles was captured with a band of wild horses, which is why she’s prone to erratic behavior. Jessie isn’t like her. I’m convinced my little horse is different.

As they work, my eyes follow the movement of her legs, the way it’s almost like dancing how she takes tiny steps to avoid Stuart, then large, graceful canters when she’s doing what she’s told. Stuart’s expression is focused, intense. His hazel eyes never leave her, and his light-brown hair is messy over his forehead. The muscle in his jaw moves, and the rope is like an instrument in his elegant hands. He’s strong and so intoxicatingly handsome as I watch him work with her.

It feels like we’ve been out here for hours, and I skipped breakfast. Still, I don’t want to miss anything. Quickly dropping down to fetch my sketchpad, I climb back to the top rail, holding it on my lap.

With one long, black sweep, I draw the curve of Jessie’s back. Her dark mane ripples along her side, and her tail is slightly raised. The grasses in the pen are low and brown, and behind all of it, the hazy mountains rise in the distance, purple, green, and gray.

Stuart is lean and tall guiding her. I shade the cuffs in his sleeves then spend a little time shading the muscles in his forearms. Watching the movement of his hands, my mind drifts to our morning in the spring and his hands on my bare skin. Warmth spreads across my stomach in a fizzy wave. The water in the creek was fizzy and warm. The sun was bright over our heads like the brightness of the sun today…

Too bright. It makes my eyes ache. Brightness, aching eyes. It’s like my dream. My sketchpad is so heavy. I need to put it down. My head is light, and from somewhere far off, I hear a voice shouting my name. I have to close my eyes. I’m falling…

Three worried faces are the next things I see. I’m lying on the couch in the house, and a cool rag is on my head. Bill’s face is drawn tight, and Stuart’s is pale. Sylvia looks like she’s about to cry.

“What happened?” I whisper, trying to sit up.

“Oh, thank God!” Sylvia gasps, catching my shoulder. “Lie back and sip this.”

She holds a glass of lemonade to my lips, and I sip it. Grasping it tighter, I take another, longer sip. It’s the best-tasting lemonade I’ve ever had.

“Take it easy now,” Bill says calmly. “You got a little overheated.”

“But I wasn’t doing anything…” I try to remember the last thing that happened before I passed out. “I was just sitting on the fence sketching.”

“On the top of the fence. If I hadn’t heard your sketchpad fall, looked up and saw you swoon.” Stuart’s voice trails off, and I realize what must have happened.

“Is Jessie okay?”

“Forget Jessie. Are you okay?” I can tell how worried he is by the sharpness of his tone, and I quickly try to ease his mind.

“I’m okay. I should’ve eaten some breakfast is all—”

“You didn’t eat breakfast?” His voice rises, and his mother stands quickly beside him.

“Why don’t you ask Winona if she has a little bread or something mild like a banana or cheese…”

His jaw is tight, and his eyes flash. I wish there was a blanket or something I could pull over my head to hide. “No more skipping meals,” he says in a voice just above a growl.

With that he turns and heads for the kitchen, and I feel the blood flaming hot in my cheeks. “I had no idea I would faint like that. I’ve never fainted in my life.”

“Your blood sugar must’ve dropped,” Sylvia says. “It never happened to me until I was nursing, but you’re not very big to begin with.”

“I’ll let you two have some privacy. I’m glad you’re okay,” Bill says, giving me a kind smile. Then he tilts his head toward the kitchen where Stuart went. “Don’t worry about him.”

My stomach tightens, and I’m so embarrassed. “I can’t believe this happened. As if he weren’t overprotective enough.”

“Now, stop that.” Sylvia moves my legs and sits beside me on the couch. “You’re still learning how your body is going to respond to pregnancy. It’s not your fault.”

“Still, I should know not to skip meals. Especially breakfast.”

“You’re also not used to this climate. The air is drier and a little thinner. We’re at a higher elevation.”

The thud of boots on the wooden floor signals Stuart’s return. I look up to see his expression has cooled slightly, even though his jaw is still tight.

“Mom, can I steal your seat?” he says, and Sylvia jumps up.

“Of course.” As she starts to go, she squeezes his shoulder. “Be gentle.”

His eyes are fixed on the plate in his hand. Winona has arranged several slices of fresh cucumber, a wedge of watermelon, several cheese cubes, and a stack of crackers.

“Do you need some more lemonade?” His voice isn’t as stern as I expected, and I relax slightly. Still I feel guilty.

“I’m okay for now.” Picking up a slice of cucumber, I eat it slowly, not meeting his eyes. “I was just so interested in watching you work with her. I feel so stupid.”

“It was after lunch. I should have made you go inside and eat something.”

“It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have to remind me to eat.”

I look up and our eyes meet. In spite of his irritation, I see the love simmering in those hazel depths. Two breaths, and he reaches for the plate, setting it aside and pulling me into his arms. I reach around his waist, holding his firm torso tightly. My face is pressed into his shoulder.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he says, holding the back of my head.

We’re quiet a few beats, and my insides throb with a mixture of relief and love and embarrassment. My eyes heat as per usual, and internally, I chastise myself.

“It won’t happen again,” I say. It’s a promise to us both.

He exhales, leaning back to smooth my hair away from my face. “Mom’s right. The climate here is different, we’re at a higher altitude—”

“Still,” I shake my head and grasp his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’ve been taking care of myself a long time. I’ll do a better job. You don’t have to worry about me.”

That gets me a smile, and another wave of relief washes through me. “I’m sure I’ll worry about you regardless, but it’s good to hear.”

Reaching for the plate, he sets it on my lap again. “You good here?”

I nod, picking up the watermelon. “I’ll eat this and then have some lunch.”

“I’ll go check on Jessie.”

Nodding, I wave him away. “Go on. I’ll be right here.”

He walks to the door, but pauses a moment to give me a final look before heading out. I exhale a breath as I watch his handsome form disappear through the doorway.