Chapter 26
Three days later, William brandishes an arm toward a weathered stable, brick-red paint curling and peeling away from the wood.
“Don’t tell me,” I say, eyebrow raised, “you’ve brought me all this way to murder me?”
He grins. “Well, now you’ve spoiled the surprise, haven’t you?”
An oscillating pulse within me ripples outward as he takes my hand and pulls me closer.
We spent half an hour wandering down a scenic nature trail to get here.
The fall foliage is in full display, leaves drenched in deep maroons and rich yellows, as the surrounding sugar maples and red spruces release an earthy fragrance.
Dead pine needles crunch under our boots as we descend onto a narrower footpath.
“Now feels like a good time to catch you up on trespassing laws,” I say as we reach the heavy stable doors.
“We’re not trespassing,” he says as he lifts the latch, allowing the doors to swing open. Then he steps inside and veers toward a pair of muddied rubber boots.
I stand in the entrance. “Breaking and entering is also frowned upon.”
William shakes his head, hair tumbling forward as he bends over to slide on the boots. “I assure you, we are meant to be here.”
The subtle-sweet scent of hay and feed hits my nostrils. As he wanders deeper into the stable, a light clop sounds from somewhere nearby. Hooves. Then, a whinny.
He releases the swinging door on a stall to his left. “This is Whiskers.”
I lean inside the stable. A brown-and-white horse nickers as William gently strokes his dark mane.
“It is not.” I fold my arms. “That’s what you call a particularly fluffy house cat—maybe a pet mouse.”
“I suppose you should take that up with Gary.”
My next question is poised on the tip of my tongue when the answer strides through the opposite end of the stable. An older gentleman with a ruddy complexion and freckles clasps his hands together, beaming.
“Thought I heard you, Enzo,” he says, his eyes on me. “Hello.”
“Delaney, this is Gary.” William swoops an arm in his direction. “Delaney, Gary.”
Gary meets me where I’m at in several large steps. “Pleasure.” He offers me a rough hand. I shake it. “Enzo’s spoken highly of you.”
I angle my head in his direction. “Has he?”
“Of course,” William says, not at all flustered. He takes Whiskers by the reins and leads him into the empty stall across from it.
The pieces fall into place. “So you work here?”
“A few hours a week,” Gary explains. “Pitched himself to me and everything. I was promised a hard worker, and that’s what we got.”
William fetches a rake propped in a corner. “We own horses back home,” he tells me. “I asked if I could tend to the cleaning for a fair wage.”
A grin breaks across my face. There’s no way William’s ever tended to a stable in his life. I’d bet my own money on it. However, I can’t deny how quickly he picks things up. I have to give it to him. It’s a clever opportunity.
“And he’s thorough,” Gary adds. “Doesn’t cut corners.”
“No, he’s not one to do that,” I hear myself say. “So this is your ranch?”
“Mine and my wife, Sandra’s.” He gestures to another pair of rubber boots flopped over near me. “Those are hers, if you’d like to put them on and step inside.”
It takes a bit of balancing on my part, but I slide out of my sneakers and into Sandra’s sturdy mud boots, then I clomp across the hay and peek into Whiskers’s stall.
“He’s beautiful.”
“Sandra’s dream.” He reaches up to open the top gate of the two-tier stall door. Whiskers pokes his head out. “Loves them. She’s out right now riding Peony.”
I hold out my hand to Whiskers, his giant nostrils tickling the inside of my palm as he sniffs. His rich brown coat has a stunning glossy sheen that’s silky to the touch.
“Heard what’s happening up at that school of yours,” Gary continues. “I’m sorry, it’s such a monumental place.”
I swallow thickly. “My dad used to teach there. Years ago. And I spent most of my childhood here. We made a lot of great memories growing up.”
“It’s pure greed.” Gary pats the side of Whiskers’s neck. “If there’s anything we can do, you let us know.”
I listen to the methodic scrape of William’s rake and gentle swish of hay, my mind whirring.
“Actually,” I say, “there might be.”
By the time we exit the stable, Gary’s agreed to auction a day of horseback riding lessons for our gala. I promise to email him and Sandra a save-the-date this week, and he seems thrilled to attend.
“Been waiting to visit for the heck of it,” he says. “Love that you’ve gotten our little community involved. Makes us feel part of the greater cause.”
“Delaney’s been working hard on this initiative,” William says. “It’s most admirable.”
My belly swoops at his compliment.
“Hey,” Gary says, “you ever ridden before?”
“Oh no.” I step away. “I don’t—I wouldn’t be good at it.”
“Nonsense.” William’s giving me an odd look. “How would you know if you haven’t tried?”
“Excellent point.” Gary backs into the stable. “One ride. So you can say you’ve done it.”
“That’s not—” I try, but William slings an arm around my shoulder and navigates me toward the stall. My pulse thrums a slow lullaby at his touch.
I’m overwhelmed in every sense of the word.
Gary secures Whiskers’s saddle while William offers me some direction with the reins.
The next thing I know, I’ve slipped a foot into the stirrup while William helps hoist me onto Whiskers’s wide body, all while my heart thunders with nerves.
I grip what Gary tells me is the horn in the front of the saddle, quickly realizing I’m much higher than expected.
“William’s gonna lead ya.” He tosses the lead rope into William’s outstretched hands. “Just around the premises. You’ll be fine.”
And I am. Mostly.
“You’re sure he’s not going to buck me off?” I ask William for the fifth time.
“Try to relax, won’t you?” He smiles up at me. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Whiskers’s trot isn’t any faster than the time I sprained my ankle in fifth grade and had to hobble around on crutches, but from this height, we might as well be traveling at the speed of light.
“Can we go slower?”
“Delaney, if we went any slower we would not be moving.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m not good at this.”
“You mentioned before.” William’s eyes land on mine. “However, from where I’m standing, you seem to be a halfway decent rider.”
“Only halfway?”
“Considering I’m doing most of the work.” He holds up the leading reins. “Yes.”
“Well, considering I don’t have a natural talent for this sort of thing, I’ll allow it.”
A silence stretches between us. The breeze shifts. Whiskers releases a huffy breath, then whinnies, startling me. I try to settle back into the rhythm as a bird chirps somewhere in the distance.
“Is it important to you,” he begins, “to have a natural talent?”
Is it? There was never a time when Jared wasn’t exceeding, and Mads seemed like she was born with every single acting bone in her body.
I wasn’t going to win any Pulitzers if I stuck to journalism, which was Analiese’s thing anyway.
Science fair was almost like an extension of schoolwork, pushed onto me by parents who wanted to see me shine.
But when I thought about it, premed never felt like me.
And if I couldn’t practice the tuba and get better at it, then what was I going to do if I went through the hoopla of premed requirements and discovered I couldn’t master it?
So I say, “Maybe.”
“You know what I think,” he says after a while. “You’re scared to try.”
I stiffen. “Excuse me?”
“You’re scared to try something new, even if it’s harmless. Because what if you’re no good?” William blinks up at me. “Am I wrong?”
The furious part of my brain wants to come to my own defense. Of course I try. That’s all I’ve done since coming to Ivernia. Jared set the bar high. If I make a wrong decision, my potential becomes wasted.
And then William’s words from our ballroom lessons snag in my brain.
Trust yourself.
I don’t. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s always been the problem. I’ve never stuck to trying anything for myself because I’ve been too afraid it’ll end up in failure. I don’t trust that I can go after something I’m passionate about and succeed.
Once we circle around to the stable, William helps me down and we return Whiskers to his newly cleaned stall. He fills the trough with feed and reseals the bag, parting ways with a cheery pat along his neck.
We’re silent as we navigate the trail back to campus, but my thoughts are loud.
My hesitation to go after what I want has existed since the beginning of the year.
And when I did do something for myself, like playing my part in Capture, I got in trouble.
Yet—I hadn’t given that up, had I? I’m still in the game, still part of the team.
But that’s low stakes compared to choosing a university. Choosing a career path—no, a life path.
For the first time, I wonder if Mrs. Vidar-Tett is right.
All these years I’ve been too scared to really listen to myself, certain everyone else knew how to better manage my decisions.
And when you’re an amalgamation of everyone else’s opinions and counsel, then can you even truly know yourself? Trust yourself?
Dense clouds thicken the air around us, and my palms begin to feel sticky with moisture as we reach campus. Minutes later, a misty drizzle exhales a dampening sigh. We’re doused in seconds.
William nods toward the athletic center. “This way.”
We jog the outer loop and find shelter beneath the overhang just as it starts to pour.
A distant rumble sounds. Wet drops ping and splatter against the protective covering above us.
When I try to scan us into the building, the device blinks red.
I forgot they lock it over the weekend for anyone who isn’t actively participating in a sport.
“We can wait it out,” he says, wiping moisture from along his jaw.
I lean against the glass door. “I can’t believe you’re shoveling horse poop for money.”