13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Lydia
P icturing Luke riding at the head of the rebels in the battle re-enactment causes an involuntary gasp and a quickening of pulse. The idea of him charging to victory, however re-enacted and theatrical, overwhelms me in an unexpected tingly way.
While we are watching Ray train Bernie, Luke leaves us. Then minutes later, I turn my head and out of the corner of my eye, I spot Luke walking Deedee up to a gate in the paddock fence on the other side, away from the audience. Ray leads Bernie out and holds the gate while Luke mounts his horse and rides into the training paddock. Deedee canters in a wide circle, his muscular neck is arched, his nostrils flared.
Watching Luke ride Deedee is astonishing. He’s at one with the powerful stallion. Every movement is subtle and looks effortless. Deedee seems to enjoy showing off for the crowd. He tosses his long, flowing mane and swishes his tail as he prances with knees high. Luke makes him turn on the spot, walk backward, then run full gallop from one end of the training ring, kicking up dust, to the other. I could watch them all day. Then, Deedee walks sedately around in a circle before rearing up, like Champion the Wonder Horse. Luke dismounts and stands beside his horse and together they bow to the spectators, causing a gush of ‘Ahhhs’ from everyone, especially me, and a round of appreciative applause.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” says Ray who is perched on the fencing rail. “I hope you enjoyed our demonstration. If you’d like to return to the barn, we’re going to serve some light refreshments and, most importantly, we’re going to do the prize draw.” He hops down and walks to the barn followed by a trail of visitors.
“Wasn’t that amazing?” says Molly with shining eyes. “Luke is a proper cowboy, just like in the movies, isn’t he? I’m quite overwhelmed.”
“Me too,” I say quietly as if I’ve had a spiritual epiphany. Angels sing inside my head, and everything is shiny.
“He is a very good rider,” Sheena says. “No doubt about that. But I wonder what health and safety procedures they have in place here. I’d like to know more before I send our guests here. The last thing I want is to feel that we’re liable for an unsafe activity.”
We join the other guests in the barn and accept a beaker of soda from the trays that are being circulated. Platters of baked savories and potato chips are set up on trestle tables around the barn’s periphery. Containers with pens and pencils sit next to strips of paper that sit under small rocks, to stop them from blowing away.
The chatter surrounding me is praise for a great show. I stand with my friends, but I keep an eye on the door and watch for Luke. In a few minutes, I see him. He takes off his hat, hands it to one of his staff, then steps onto the hay bale and waits for the chatter to die down.
“Okay, folks. That’s about it for today. Thanks for coming out. We appreciate your interest in seeing what we’re all about out here at Green Acres.” Some people start clapping. He clears his throat. “So, all we need to do now is find a lucky winner for our prize draw of a voucher for a complimentary horse trek for two.” There are some excited whoops from the crowd. “Alright then,” says Luke smiling broadly. “You’ll notice the writing equipment collated on the tables.” We all turn to look around. “Without causing a riot. Let’s allow the ladies to go first. All you have to do is write your name on a piece of paper then fold it and put it into one of our hats. Then, gentlemen, it’ll be your turn.”
There’s a scurry of activity as women swoop down onto the pens and pencils, making a flurry of bits of paper. The mayhem lasts a few seconds, and I wait for it to die down before I approach the closest table. I reach for a pencil and a handful of paper, then very quickly I scribble a name, and then another and another. In the blink of an eye, I stuff my handful of paper into a waiting hat. Then I stand back as the male contingent begins writing their names and tossing them into the hats too.
Luke, who is still standing on the hay bale, takes back his hat and adds the contents of four more hats. Then he theatrically rummages around in the loose slips of paper. “Drum roll please.” Ray and the other staff members lean forward and rapidly pat their thighs creating a drumroll simulation. Luke pulls out a piece of paper, unfolds it, and holds it up. He clears his throat then says, “And the winner is Sheena D.” Luke searches the crowd.
“Oh my,” says Sheena. Her hands snap up to her chest in surprise. “It’s me. I’ve won.”
“Where’s Sheena?” says Luke shielding his eyes as he looks for her. One of his staff members hands him a printed piece of paper. “Come on up here.” Sheena squeals gleefully and totters through the excited crowd to accept her prize. “Congratulations, Sheena. This voucher entitles you and a friend to a half-day horse trek here at Green Acres.”
Sheena beams and she looks emotional, as if she’s going to cry. Then she says thank you a few times, while the crowd claps and cheers, before hurrying back to where we’re waiting.
“This is so great,” she says grinning. “I don’t think I’ve won anything in my whole life.”
“Congratulations!” Molly and I say together.
As the barn empties out, I watch for Luke. He’s chatting with people and shaking their hands. I can see that he’s busy, so we wave goodbye. Then, to my surprise, he smiles and comes over.
“Thanks for coming, ladies. I hope you had a good time. And, congratulations, Sheena. Just call to book your trek. We’ll try and accommodate any day you want, except Christmas, of course.”
“Alright, thanks so much,” says Sheena still buzzing from her win. “I’ll let you know.”
Luke smiles. He looks as if he’s going to say something more, but he just nods. “See you soon, then.” His glance catches my eye for a moment before he turns and strides away and I’m left feeling a bit woozy.
I wonder if he has counted all the ‘Sheena’ entries. Will he revoke her prize if he suspects cheating? Or will he think Sheena’s multiple entries are endearing and an indication of her excited enthusiasm? Of course, my plan may still backfire depending on Luke’s perception of contest fixing. It’s probably best if he doesn’t check the names in the hat. I cross my fingers and hope. But I figure, if Luke was going to say anything about it, he would have done so by now.
A small, satisfied sigh escapes my lips. Is my work here done? Perhaps. But then, I can’t help admiring Luke’s tall, strong frame and the easy glide to his walk. Yay. Go Sheena. There’s no better way to get to know someone than being out and about, riding the range on horseback. Although… What is that niggly feeling? Jealousy? Nah. It can’t be. It’s probably indigestion from the snacks and soda, and the thrill of being in the crowd of spectators watching an awesome show. Or the effects of cheating on behalf of my single friend.
Two days before Rita and Brodie’s wedding, I call Luke to say I’m coming to get some crabapple branches from his trees.
“Yes. Of course, I’ll be here.” I melt a little listening to Luke’s voice on the phone. “Just turn up. Do you need anything? Hacksaw, perhaps?”
“No. Thanks. I’ve done this a million times.” I try and act cool. “I have everything I need, and a helper, so… Thanks again for letting me prune your trees.”
“Anytime.”
I’m hoping I don’t see Luke as I drive out to Green Acres. The way I feel about him isn’t supposed to be happening. It’s not in the grand plan for me to fall for my friend’s potential boyfriend that I have organized. Laura is with me in the van. I figured this was a two-person job and also, I don’t want the opportunity of being alone with Luke just in case I give in to my feelings. The quicker we get the branches to the venue the better the result.
I drive in through the main gate and park close to the crabapple trees. I cut the engine and get out. Then I look up the hill at the horses in the paddock with the trees behind. It’s peaceful and so beautiful.
“Right then, I guess we’ll take a couple of branches from each tree, so they won’t look too damaged and the tree won’t suffer.” Laura takes the tarpaulin from the back of the van while I grab the tools. “Look for branches with the most fruit.”
Laura lays a tarp on the ground, and we get to work sawing what we need from the trees. The apples are so beautiful. Perfectly round and the colors of autumn - golds, reds, oranges. They are going to look amazing as the centerpiece in the marquee. We need to be really careful not to bruise the apples, otherwise they’ll turn brown and rotten in no time.
Using crabapple branches is an experiment, kind of. I haven’t used them much before in previous designs because, even though the fruit stays looking good, the leaves tend to curl and dry out in a matter of hours. So, I’ve made up a solution of glycerine, benzoic acid, sulphates, and potassium sorbates that I plan to spray onto the branches to preserve the color and stop the leaves from curling. It won’t stop the eventual decay, but it’ll be enough for the event. Still, I have my fingers crossed that my homemade preservative will work. Sometimes I feel like a mad professor in my lab testing formulas and mixing ratios of this and that.
I hear a car engine as I hack away at a particularly attractive branch. I peek out through the leaves and see that it’s Luke driving. I squirm and hide as best as I can in between the branches of the tree, hoping he won’t see me and continue on his way. But no. He pulls over and winds down his window.
“Hey, Lydia. Are you getting what you need?” he asks in his caramelly southern accent.
It’s clear that my camouflage isn’t working, so I step out from the tree holding a branch as if it has special powers to deflect Luke’s animal magnetism. It doesn’t. It’s just a crabapple branch. And I am just a woman covered in leaves and dust, wanting to be invisible.
We exchange some pleasantries, then I say, “We had a wonderful time at the Open Day. You were amazing on Deedee… I mean, you and Ray put on a great show.”
“Thanks. I’m happy you came.”
“Yes. We all had a great time. Especially Sheena. She loved it.”
“And she won the prize draw too.”
“That’s right,” I say awkwardly. “So, has she been in touch to book a ride, yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, she will. And soon, I expect. She told me that she couldn’t wait to get in the saddle with you. I mean… on a horseback ride.”
Laura appears from behind a tree close by. She’s carrying a handsaw and a branch loaded with little apples. I introduce her to Luke. Laura smiles and says hi, then carefully lays the branch down on the tarp cloth, and disappears behind another tree.
“These apples are so pretty,” I say deflecting my attention away from the handsome cowboy in the truck.
“Yes. You’re right. I hadn’t considered the humble crabapple as decoration before, but I can see what you mean.” Luke smiles his devastating smile, and I wish that he would move along so I can stop feeling wobbly and get back to what I’m supposed to be doing. “So, Lydia.” I love the way he says my name. “If I don’t see you before I go, have a great Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Ah, you too. Are you going back to your family for the holidays?”
“Eventually. I have some prospective clients to see. They have a breeding mare that I may be interested in. I want to see their setup in person. I don’t trust pictures on the web.”
“No. Me neither.” Then I remember that Sheena is supposed to be trekking with Luke into the sunset. “So, when are you traveling? Soon?”
“Yeah. Next week. But Ray is here, and I have a great team to take care of things while I’m away.”
“Great. That’s great.” But it doesn’t give me much time.
Luke touches the brim of his hat then says, “I’ll see you later, Lydia. I hope the crabapples work out for the wedding.”
For a minute I forget that I’m holding a branch. I’ve squeezed it to my chest and crumpled the leaves. Luke shifts into gear and steers the truck down to the gate. I watch him go then lay the crabapple branch gently with the others, although I fear I may have bruised this one beyond repair. A moment later, Laura’s head pops out between apple trees, and she waves to me.
“I think we have enough now,” I yell straightening up and stretching my back. “Let’s go.”