CHAPTER SIX #2
Angel remained still enough—sort of— that the men were able to continue checking her out.
The farrier—who I think I heard Tom call Angus—had started to work on one of her hooves, while Morty swirled the fetal doppler around Angel’s middle section.
Or at least he tried, but as soon as he started to move it, she lost her shit and Angus was knocked into the stall wall as the mare started to thrash.
Sam gripped my arm, her fingernails digging into my skin.
Tom lunged forward and grabbed the reins tight, pulling Angel’s face as close to his as possible until her big, wide eyes were almost level with his.
I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but even if I could have, I wouldn’t have understood it since it was in Italian.
His voice was soft, almost melodic as he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.
Carefully, Angus and Morty resumed what they were doing.
Angel fussed a bit more, but with Tom right there, holding her tight and reminding her that she was okay, she allowed them to continue.
Angus’ job wasn’t easy, and after a while, my back hurt just watching him hunched over the way he was. And he hadn’t even replaced the shoes yet. He was still working on removing the overgrown hooves. No wonder the poor baby hobbled and wobbled her way to the stall.
I wasn’t expecting Tom to acknowledge us, since this was his life and he was here for the animals, but just like my daughter, I didn’t want to leave. So I quietly ushered Sam away and we went back to brushing the horses.
It wasn’t until my belly rumbled and I checked my phone that I realized that it was after six. The vet, farrier, and Tom were still in the stall with Angel.
“We should get going,” I said to Sam as we stood on opposite sides of Galahad in his stall, brushing him.
“Do we have to?”
“It’s after six,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. I don’t think Tom even knows we’re still here. So we should just head out. They’re busy with Angel and probably will be for a while.”
Her pout tugged hard at my heartstrings, but I couldn’t let her talk me into staying any later.
“Maybe we’ll pop by tomorrow to see how she’s doing. But you have homework, and I have laundry.”
We said our goodbyes to the lovable Galahad as well as the rest of the horses, but Tom, Angus, and Morty were too busy with Angel so we just took our leave.
“Where’s the helicopter?” Sam asked as we headed to the RAV.
“I guess it dropped them off, and they’ll either take the ferry back or it’ll come get them when they’re done?” I mused, marveling at the kind of money Tom must have to have a farrier and vet on standby, not to mention, the ability to fly them over via helicopter with basically zero notice.
He was definitely using his money for good, unlike a lot of people. Mr. Moneybags wasn’t just Mr. Moneybags; he was Mr. Moneybags with a heart of solid gold.
When we drove off his property, a pang of melancholy made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t expecting, and I couldn’t figure out why.
Was I sad for Angel and how mistreated she’d been? Or was I sad to be leaving such a wonderful place … and wonderful man? I hardly knew him, and he was certainly peculiar, but that only made me want to know more about him. Learn all of his peculiarities, and his story.
By the time we got home, both Sam and my bellies were rumbling like oncoming thunder. Luckily, I had a Crock-Pot of veggie potato soup ready to go. So all I had to do was bring out the crackers and hummus and whip up a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches.
“I smell like horse and hay,” Sam said, grabbing the spoon and smearing more hummus onto her cracker. “Though, I don’t hate the smell.”
“Neither do I.”
“I hope she’s going to be okay,” she added. “And the fact that she’s pregnant.”
I hadn’t had the heart to tell my kid that there was a serious possibility the foal might not make it if Angel was that emaciated. Maybe she wasn’t that far along and they could get her healthy in time for delivery, but even then, who knew what condition the foal would be born in.
We finished dinner, and just as I was putting the dishes away, my phone vibrated on the counter with a message from Naomi to our cousin group chat.
How was horsing around with the mystery millionaire today?
Raina was the next to text.
Oooh yeah. Did he show you his salt lick?
Gabrielle chimed in to team Raina..
I’m sure you were searching for an equally funny innuendo as Naomi, but I don’t get that one.
Naomi added.
Yeah. 1/5 stars. And that single star is for effort only.
Raina replied with a bit of cheek.
Whatever. How was it hanging out with Mr. Mystery Moneybags?
With a deep sigh, I typed back my reponse. Because I knew they wouldn't let it go if I didn't.
He’s a very interesting man. Very patient. Peculiar. Wonderful with Sam and the animals. A mistreated mare showed up and turns out she’s pregnant. So emaciated though. I question whether the foal is even viable.
Look at you speaking like a rancher after only a few hours. Next, you’ll be telling us you helped muck stalls and milk the cows.
Naomi joked back.
I rolled my eyes.
No cows. And no stall mucking. Sam and I just brushed the horses and got to know them. She’s in her element though. Didn’t want to leave.
Gabrielle texted next.
I bet. Kid is a natural with animals. Always has been.
I was grateful for the change of topic. Sam was much easier to discuss than the handsome Italian man with a yard full of animals.
Raina messaged next.
I’m home tonight. Wine in 30?
We all texted back “Sure” at the same time.
Sam came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair, and her pink and purple tie-dye robe on. “Let me guess, you’re going for wine at Aunt Gabrielle’s?”
I smirked. “Smart-ass.”
“I’m going to go read until bedtime.”
“You’re sure? I’m sure Laurel would love to see you.”
Sam got a weird look in her eyes that said more than what her lips did.
I sat down on the kitchen island bar stool since we had no table in our little carriage house apartment over Gabrielle’s garage. “What’s going on?”
Her gaze flicked to the floor.
“Samantha Jean St. Claire.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, so I lunged forward, reached for her hand, and hauled her over to stand in front of me, giving her arm a little shake while still holding onto her hand. “What’s going on?”
Finally, she lifted her eyes to mine. “I feel bad. Laurel, Honor, Austin, and Marco are now getting teased because of me. People are saying their cousin is a freak, and they’re probably freaks too.”
“People? Or Clyde Whalley?”
She shrugged in a noncommittal way. “I dunno. They just said that people are teasing them too.”
Anger flared hot inside of me. Most of the time I loved living on the island and how safe it felt being part of a small community that looked out for each other.
But at times like these, when the school pond was small and even one rotten fish could poison the whole watershed, I really wondered if a bigger town or city would be better.
“It’s fine,” she sighed. “I just don’t want to see Laurel right now.”
“They’re not mad at you because of it, are they?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know.”
I pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “I won’t be late. Just one glass.”
“Sure.” She smirked.
“Hey.” I stood up, but kept my grip on her hand. “We’re going to figure this Clyde stuff out. Okay, kiddo? I promise.”
Her nod was small, as if she didn’t believe me.
“If I have to push that little bugger down the stairs for you myself, I will. You know that, right?”
That made her smile.
“I’ll be quick.” Then I headed to the front door, grabbing my navy cardigan from the coatrack before I trotted down the stairs, then back up the porch steps to Gabrielle’s front door. I didn’t bother knocking, and just went in. Naomi and Raina were already there.
Damon, Gabrielle’s fourteen-year-old son, and Gabrielle’s new man, Maverick, were playing video games in the living room. Only Maverick gave us all a wave and friendly smile hello. Damon was too engrossed in the virtual hockey game to even notice that we were there.
Once we all had a glass of merlot in front of us, and sat in our usual places at the tables, I finally broached the subject with my cousins.
“So, uh … are your kids upset with Sam?” I took a sip from my stemless glass, letting the jammy notes settle on my tongue for a moment before swallowing.
All three of them gave me confused looks.
“Why would they be upset with Sam?” Gabrielle asked.
“I guess kids are teasing them now, saying they must be freaks too because Sam had that … freak-out, or whatever, at Clyde when he wouldn’t leave her alone. Have they said anything?”
Heads shook.
“Marco hasn’t said anything to me,” Raina replied. “He just said there’s a kid in Sam’s class who is a troublemaker, and he feels bad for Sam and how Clyde treats her. Nothing about getting teased by him though.”
“I love that your son talks to you,” Naomi remarked. “Austin tells me nothing. Honor’s better, but she still doesn’t tell me as much as Sam or Marco tell you guys.”
“Laurel mentioned what happened, but nothing about being called a freak because of her cousin,” Gabrielle added.
“They all love Sam and know she’s not a freak.
They understand she suffers from anxiety and is getting help with it, and that she’s shy.
They also know that this Clyde kid is a menace.
So I doubt they’d place any kind of blame on Sam, even if Clyde called them freaks. ”
While I already knew all of this, it did ease some of the worry inside my chest that the kids hadn’t mentioned anything to their mothers and didn’t seem to be affected by Clyde’s hurtful words.
Naomi reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze, her small smile encouraging. “We know how hard this has all been on you and Sam. And you’re doing a great job getting your kid the help she needs. You’re a fantastic mom, Dani. Seriously.”
My throat grew tight, and the backs of my eyes stung a little.
I squashed those bubbling emotions with another sip of wine.
“Thanks,” I finally croaked out. “I’m really hoping that the medication will start to help, as well as this time at the barn.
She’s only been on the SSRI for a couple of weeks, and it takes time for it to start working.
The nurse practitioner did say we may need to titrate up too, if it’s not enough to make a noticeable difference in her anxiety. ”
“Did she feel any anxiety about going to the barn?” Raina asked.
I shook my head. “No. None. But that’s because of the animals. I had to drag her away from there tonight. She’d probably be content sleeping in a stall with one of the horses and a sleeping bag if I let her.”
They all snorted because they knew it to be true.
“Sort of off-topic, but sort of not,” Naomi said, leaning forward and picking up the nearly empty bottle of wine from the middle of the table and emptying the rest into her glass.
We all smirked because even though we all probably told our kids, “Just one glass,” that was never the case.
“But … Mr. Moneybags is very nice to look at. Is there, perhaps, a spark?”
Heat instantly filled my cheeks. And I’m sure that meant my face was bright red.
My cousins all smirked as if it were, anyway.
“I … I don’t know him well enough. We’ve met three times.
The second time was weird too. He just …
left. Closed the door, and Sam and I took that as a sign we weren’t welcome anymore. ”
“What do you mean he left?” Gabrielle asked, gathering her thick, dark-brown locks into her hand and holding them on top of her head for a moment to let the back of her neck cool off a little.
“The donkey—Pinata—was terrorizing the ducks in the pond, and we helped him lure Pinata out. His clothes got soaked, then he got this weird look in his eyes, stood up straight, and walked out of the field, to his house, opened the door, closed it, and never came back out. Never said a word to us either. It was super weird.”
“And he didn’t address it today?” Raina asked.
I shook my head.
“Maybe he was just really uncomfortable and went to change?” Naomi postured.
“I didn’t get that vibe from him.” Running the pad of my index finger around the rim of my glass, I kept my gaze focused on the grain of Gabrielle’s dark wood dining room table.
“Honestly, it almost felt like he got overwhelmed and just kind of shut down. The same way Sam does when she’s on the verge of an anxiety attack. ”
Gabrielle raised her brows slightly. “Could be. Maybe he suffers from anxiety too. Would explain the fact that he basically operates as a recluse on the island and nobody knows he or his place exists. I mean, the fact that Jolene Dandy has never mentioned him or tried to set him up with anyone is astounding.”
Snickers of agreement flitted through all of us.
There was a reason the woman had the nickname “The Island Mouth” because she never stopped talking—about other people.
She considered herself a matchmaker too, and always liked to zero in on single people and try to set them up.
As far as I knew, she’d never made a successful match, but that didn’t seem to stop the woman from meddling whenever she could.
I’d turned her down more than once in her efforts to “set me up with a good father figure for Sam.”
The longer we sat there, and the conversation drifted naturally to other things—mainly the upcoming wine season and opening up the tasting room in a couple of weeks—the more I started to think that Tom was a person who suffered from anxiety.
Why else would he allow two little girls, who also had anxiety, to infiltrate his haven of calm?
He could have told Cameron and me to pound sand and ferry our kids to the mainland for equestrian therapy. But he didn’t.
And the look in his eyes after he got Pinata out of the pond was very similar to the look in Sam’s eyes when her anxiety was taking over.
I wasn’t put off from getting to know him by this sudden speculation; if anything, I was more intrigued.
To put his own comfort aside for the sake of two kids he didn’t know at all, spoke volumes about what kind of person he was.
Not to mention his animal rescue sanctuary, which seemed to be funded from his own pocket.
After what happened with my husband ten years ago, I was pretty convinced all the good guys out there were truly taken, and only the dregs remained.
But seeing Raina fall in love with Jagger, and Gabrielle fall in love with Maverick had rekindled some of my hope.
And Tommaso Barone also seemed like one of the good guys.
The question was: was I ready to even entertain the idea of welcoming a man into my life again?
Or was this mare ready to be sent to the glue factory too?