Over the next few days, the world tries to figure out where my baby could be. I guess because it is fun for them, they make all sorts of wild speculations, from the current Gerber baby to child stars on TV shows. Most of them conveniently leave out the fact that they know she's in a wheelchair as they post comparison pictures of me and all manner of kids.
They want someone adorable, already famous, a meaty bit of gossip. It’s fine by me. This way they won’t actually find her.
I don't go to the park to meet Mindy. I don't leave the house at all. Ted reports that everyone is trying to find us for interviews. We've gotten sympathetic messages from half the Dance Blitz cast. Even Mariah and Christy, two of the finalists from the show, have extended their support.
On Friday, Blitz sends Ted to hang out at the park with a phone for Mindy, but she doesn't come. I figure she already went there and gave up. I know it had to be hard for her to try it. Her parents are just as protective as mine were.
I’ve blown that too.
But on Sunday afternoon, four days after everything blew up, I get the surprise of my life. Mindy texts me.
I love my new phone! Thank you! I'll hide it forever and ever! Mindy.
I look up at Blitz, who sits on the floor by the sofa that has been my semipermanent home since the meeting with Gwen.
“I made Ted go to church this morning,” he says. “He spotted Mindy and was able to pass the phone to her.”
A tear squeezes out of my eye. “Thank you,” I say. I send a quick text to Mindy, then set the phone down again.
“You going to see her?” Blitz asks. I know he is concerned. I haven't gone anywhere or worked out or danced since Wednesday.
“Maybe soon,” I say. I don't know what else to tell him. That everything seems pointless now? That nothing he does will really help?
I want to pull myself together. I have him. I have Mindy back, thanks to him. I have money, a career, a home. I have dance.
But letting Gabriella go this second time is worse than the first. I could have prevented it. I didn't put her first. I let myself be vulnerable. I exposed her.
Blitz slides me forward on the wide cushions and fits himself behind me. He curls around my body, strong, stalwart, caring.
I just don't know what to tell him that will help.
I should have known Blitz would have more ideas.
Mindy is taking horse-riding lessons, I learn, and once a month the group joins a trail ride around a property on the outskirts of San Antonio.
Blitz immediately signs me up for the ride despite my objections that I've never ridden a horse in my life. He proclaims me terribly un-Texan and assures me that tenderfoots like myself get horses that don't need any guidance or direction. They just follow the pack.
When we arrive at the barn, Mindy is still with her mother, so Blitz and I hang out in the car until she is alone. She's turned seventeen in the months I haven't seen her. She's tall and lovely, her brown hair in twin braids that reach past her shoulders.
Her jeans are loose, and she wears a plain yellow T-shirt. She's like a bit of sunshine from my dark past.
As soon as I'm out of the car, Mindy spots me and runs to me like we're long-lost lovers in a meadow.
Her slender arms come around my neck and I've forgotten what it's like to have a friend of my own, away from Hollywood and television, all those people who might have an agenda or a motive for seeking me out.
“You look so different!” she exclaims, touching my hair. “You're so grown up!” She glances at Blitz and leans in close to my ear. “So what is the answer to our good-in-bed question?”
I laugh, and the sound is so foreign that I'm almost startled by it. I haven't heard it since the news of Gabriella got out.
“I’ll have to tell you later,” I whisper.
Blitz's grin is wide as he waves us off. “You girls have fun. Don't run off with any cowboys.”
Mindy watches him get back in the plain gray car that we drive around when we don't want to attract attention. “You gotta tell me everything,” she says. “I've missed it all since you left for LA.”
“This better be a long ride,” I say. “Because there's a lot to tell.”
The day is outrageously hot and the horses plod along a trail that shimmers in the heat. There are about a dozen of us, led by a tough-talking sun-weathered lady in a worn cowboy hat.
The first few riders are young boys, maybe ten years old, then a newlywed couple, then three accountants in town for a convention. Mindy and I are last, followed by a handsome twenty-year-old, who was introduced as the son of one of the owners of the horse barn.
Mindy keeps looking behind us, torn between our secret conversation and keeping his attention.
“My parents would never have let me do a ride like this,” I say. “Not this close to a real live man.”
Mindy glances back again, notices the man is watching her, and blushes for the thousandth time. “I think mine figured not much could happen on the back of a horse.”
“What have they said to my parents?”
“Not much. Mine expressed their concern that yours wouldn't talk to you. Your dad called you a –” she stops abruptly. “He said some unkind things that made my mom decide to speak to them less. They haven't done anything together since you left. Poor Owen misses your brother Andy. He was his only real friend.”
“It's my dad,” I say. “And I know exactly what he said. He said it to my face.”
We round a small hill that looks down on a shallow valley. It's pretty, although sparse and dry. A brutal Texas summer is coming.
“You have to tell me all about Hollywood,” Mindy says. “What was it like being on TV? Do reporters follow you everywhere? What is Blitz really like?”
I smile at her. “Hollywood is a business,” I say. “It's hard to make real friends. You have to realize everyone is there to cut a deal.” My horse whinnies, the first attitude she's shown since we started, and I grip the reins.
Mindy and I look at her like she might take off, but she settles back in the leisurely pace in our line of horses.
“Just joining your conversation,” the cowboy behind us says.
Mindy flashes him a bright smile. “Thanks.”
We realize he can probably hear us.
“You don't have to talk about it now,” Mindy says.
“Oh, most things are stuff everybody knows,” I tell her. “The cameras aren't always there. They can be an annoyance, but you learn how to rent cars or use back exits, or have your driver scout ahead before you go somewhere. We had plenty of time without worrying about them.”
“It sounds so glamorous,” Mindy says with a sigh. “Do you think you and Blitz will get married?”
I gaze out over the brushy landscape. “We haven't really talked about it. Things are good. I got some money from the show too, so I could be on my own.”
“Will you go to college now? I have to take my first SAT this summer,” Mindy says. “Mom wants me to practice as a junior to help my score next year.”
“Probably,” I say. “I'll have to retake the test, I guess. I never saw my scores.”
“Oh, there's a website. Just log in and put in your information. If you can prove your identity, they'll send them to you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I read all about it. There's tons of kids out there who have problem parents. Once you're eighteen, your information is really yours.”
“Blitz got me a car,” I say. “I've been driving.”
“Finally!” Mindy says. “Dad says maybe when I'm eighteen.”
The woman at the front lets out a long singsong call. Her horse turns off the trail toward a shallow pond. They trot up to the water’s edge.
The man behind us says, “We're going to take a little break here.”
Our horses more or less follow the others to the water. Due to a cluster of trees, Mindy and I wind up a few yards down from the others. The cowboy follows us. “You girls need any help dismounting?” he asks.
I shake my head, lifting my leg up and around and hopping down.
“I think I might,” Mindy says shyly.
I shade my eyes from the glare of the sun as the man leaps from his horse with practiced ease and approaches Mindy.
“Just lean my way,” he says.
She lets go of the reins and falls sideways, right into his arms. I pinch my lips to suppress my smile. That girl is ready for a boyfriend, no doubt about it.
“You take lessons out here?” he asks her, setting her feet on the ground.
“Every Thursday,” she says.
“That's my day off.” He frowns.
“I could try to switch it,” she says.
He grins at that. “You take them with Mary?” He walks forward to grab the reins of both horses and leads them closer to the others. My wayward mare resists. She only wants the water. She's not interested in true love.
“With Trish, actually,” Mindy says.
“Trish does Monday and Friday too. We could see if she has openings.”
“Let's do that,” she says.
He looks at her a moment, then says, “I gotta check on all the mounts.” He walks backwards, toward the others, still looking at her.
“All right,” she says.
I realize the lovestruck kids are forgetting the basics. “Thanks for helping,” I say to the man. “What was your name?”
He tips his hat back a bit, and I can see his blue eyes. Mindy's going to have it bad for this one. “Preston,” he says. Then back to Mindy. “I'm Preston.”
“I'm Mindy.”
He lifts his hat and tips it forward in acknowledgment, and I have to bite back another smile. They are adorable.
“See you 'round, Mindy.”
He walks toward the woman who leads the ride, glancing back every three steps.
When he's far enough away, Mindy squeals, “Oh my God, did you see those eyes?”
“I did!”
“I have to do another one of these. Have to. Have to.” She moves close to her horse so she can peek around without being obvious.
Although, of course, she's obvious.
“You think you can get your lessons switched?” I ask her.
“I have to!”
Preston moves out of sight and she plops down in the soft grass on the bank of the pond. “I feel like singing or something.”
This makes me laugh. “It does that.”
“Is this how you felt? When you met Blitz? Like singing?”
I think back to that day in the studio at Dreamcatcher Academy, when I discovered Blitz watching me dance.
“No, I felt like dancing,” I say.
“That makes sense,” she says. “I’m like a water fountain bubbling over.”
I sit down beside her. I can still recapture that feeling I had then, sneaking around, seeing Blitz when I could. This would be Mindy's obsession, like mine once was.
And I still have that. Blitz is with me through all this, getting my friend a phone, organizing time for us to be together. I have lost a lot. Gabriella. My family. My ballet teacher. Dreamcatcher Academy.
But not everything. I still have Blitz. And I have dance.