Chapter 32
Dom
“We should bring a TV in here, don’t you think?
” Riley asks as she walks Juniper around by hand.
There were no records of the mare when we brought her to the vet, who diagnosed her with colic.
She was so malnourished, we decided to keep her.
Riley has not left her side since we brought her back.
When it was time to name her, I knew immediately the name that best suited her—Juniper, resilient, strong, youthful, just like Riley. She loved it too, so it stayed.
“What for?” I continue adding new shavings to the stall.
“So Juni girl can be entertained before she decides to step out into the world, you know?” Juniper has been struggling leaving the barn, even with guidance. Doctor Burton said it was normal and to give her time, but Riley refuses to accept it.
“We can play videos of nature nonstop until she gets used to it again, right, my girl?” she asks her, tilting her head towards her neck.
I sweep the aisle now that the stall is clean so Juniper can get back in and rest. She didn’t need surgery, but she’s not out of the woods yet.
“What do you think?” Riley asks, guiding Juniper into her stall—one she goes into willingly. Riley’s a horse whisperer.
“I don’t think a TV is gonna help.”
She huffs, unclipping the lead rope and giving Juniper space. When we first met, she made a comment about not loving being around horses but how she was good at it—I can see it, but what happened that made her not like them in the first place?
“Fine. I’ll keep thinking about it.”
She plops herself in the corner, where her backpack rests and the cushions she brought yesterday live, as she says. She has spent most of her free time with Juniper, even if I’m not here.
“You need to go home, Riley. She’s fine. Nothing is gonna happen to her.”
“She’s learning to trust me more and more.
I’m not going anywhere. Besides, there’s nothing for me to do over there.
Willa says I’m overreacting, but I still can’t figure out what to do.
She keeps smoothing things over between me and Lilly, and now that she’s here at the camp, it’s easier for her to play her peacekeeper role.
Nothing for me to do over there, like I said. ” She shrugs. “So drawing it is.”
“What about an art class?”
She shakes her head. “We already have art included. I need a way to bring in extra income to help take the load off Lilly. I don’t want her to have to take out a loan to pay for credit cards and expenses.
We need to figure it out, but my brain is mush, and I’m out of ideas. At least here, I feel peace.”
“How do you feel at peace here? Is it the pee or the hay, because I thought you didn’t like horses?” I wiggle my eyebrows, even if she can’t see them. Something about her brings out a part of me I haven’t seen in a long time.
I feel alive.
The more time I spend with Riley, the more I can predict her needs or wants. I’ve never been as comfortable with someone as I am with her. I may complain about her being here for hours, not doing much, but it’s mostly because I don’t want her to feel like she has to. I’ve got this.
“I didn’t say that. I have a weird relationship with them because my dad loved them.
It was our thing. So after he passed, it’s been bittersweet to be around them, but something Saylor said the other day reminded me that life’s too short, particularly after I thought I almost lost her.
We were both too stubborn, dealing with our own grief, to reach out to one another.
Shitty life circumstances will do that. If I could, I would take it all back, and it got me thinking about my future, about life as a whole. ”
Her wisdom pours out of her, every word leaving me stunned.
“Life’s hard. We all go through things, but if we don’t stop to smell the flowers, are we wasting it in fear?”
I told her she was breathtaking the other day, but it’s more than that. She’s awe-inspiring, and in a time and age when awe has disappeared, she so freely gives hers, as if it’s as simple as the air she breathes. I meant it when I said we all have so much to learn about her. I should start now.
“Oh my gosh!” she shouts, pulling my attention back to her. She's walking out of the stall, journal in hand, a smile on her face.
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later. I have an idea!” she shouts, running out towards the door but then stopping suddenly and running back to me. She throws herself into my arms, dropping a kiss on my lips. She wipes hers with the back of her hand and says, “Ew, your beard is so sweaty.”
A laugh escapes me, one I can’t contain, like the ones I used to let out as a kid riding horses for the first time at this same ranch. That’s how Riley makes me feel—like new, like joy is worth exploring when she’s around.