Chapter 15 #2
I dropped my pick but kept strumming, singing my own lyrics and songs I knew by heart, until the tips of my fingers were numb and darkness started to fall.
I jotted down a handful of lines that sounded decent in my Notes app.
The brightness of my phone made inverted shadows against my eyelids when I focused on my surroundings.
With a groan, I heaved myself up from a sitting position and put the guitar back in its case.
I slung it over my shoulder and shoved my phone in my back pocket.
My butt ached from sitting on the hard ground for hours.
But even though I didn’t have a full song, I felt the shape of it.
The finished piece might be a long way off, but I felt like the outline was in my grasp.
Despite the damp warmth of late summer, a breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that surrounded me and I shivered, suddenly aware of how alone I was out here.
It was time to go home.
But where was home, anyway?
The trees seemed to close in on me as I walked, crowding me into the center of the path. It wasn’t dark enough to need my phone flashlight yet, but the shadows were long and thin, like skeletons peeking out from the ground.
Behind me came the familiar clop-clop-clop of a lone horse. My breath caught for a moment as I pictured a headless rider swinging a scythe toward me. But I forced myself to turn around and saw Sage, approaching on the giant jet-black horse. I waved and stepped off the path to let them pass.
As they approached, they slowed, with Sage making soft whoa noises to the horse. To me, they said, “Do you want a ride?”
“On ... that?” I pointed at the gigantic horse.
“Sure.”
“I thought Mike said that horse wasn’t ready for a rider.” It lowered its head and snorted, but otherwise seemed calmer than it had when I saw it the other day. It was still a powerhouse of a horse, though, so I didn’t trust it. I kept my eyes on its head and its sharp, powerful hooves.
Sage dismounted and rolled their eyes. They kept a hand on the horse’s neck, petting and soothing it. “That’s what he thinks. But Joan is perfectly happy to let me ride her. Aren’t you Joan?”
The horse whinnied softly, seeming to actually understand the kid.
“This beast is named Joan?” I said. “Really?”
Sage smiled. “Yeah, Joan Jett the Blackhorse.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “That’s pretty good.”
Sage unbuckled their helmet and offered it to me.
As I looked off into the darkness of the forest, my stomach growled, making the decision for me.
I hadn’t accomplished much out here, but I felt more centered than I had when I left the restaurant.
Yasmin’s screwball spell idea wasn’t going to change my decision to sell the house.
Probably. But the idea that Annabelle might be a person again—a real one—didn’t scare me as much as it had when I entered the forest.
I handed Sage my guitar while they helped me climb onto the back of the horse.
Then they slung the case on their back, tightening it around their slim shoulders, and hopped on behind me.
Sage’s thin arms circled me. I felt a moment of sheer, blind panic when they made a clicking noise and the horse started to move.
“Easy,” they said, and even though I knew they were talking to the horse, it helped calm me down, too.
Eventually, my heart stopped racing. We never went faster than a gentle walking pace, but I still gripped the saddle horn until my knuckles turned white.
To their credit, Sage was as calm as a Zen master.
Every now and then they made sounds with their mouth to communicate with the horse, but otherwise, they simply held me close, letting me adjust to the rocking motion.
“Say, Sage,” I said, swallowing a lump of nerves. “If you had the chance to leave Mackinac, would you?”
“Like, to go to college?”
“Yeah, or ... you’re really good at the drums. You could play with an actual band.”
“Maybe.” There was a moment of silence, then I felt, rather than saw, them shrug. “My family is here, though, so I’m okay. Maybe I’ll leave, maybe not. My dad doesn’t care if I don’t take over the stables, he’s already said that a million times.”
I smiled, remembering Mike’s ambivalent attitude toward inheriting his father’s business. The guitar player slash stable owner made his own choice to return home and take care of his family, but he wasn’t going to foist any certain life on his kid.
We trotted past the turn to Big Mike’s and went down the lane to Abaddon instead. Sage made soothing noises and said whoa to Joan as we approached. She slowed down and came to a gentle stop right outside the dilapidated fence that surrounded my cottage’s yard.
“That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be,” I said. “Although I am going to need your help getting down.”
“It was actually easier than I thought for me too,” Sage admitted. They dismounted, then helped me awkwardly clamber off the horse. “I know I can handle Joan but I was a little nervous.”
They handed me my guitar and said, “It’s always easier when you’re not alone.”
With no warning and for the first time in nearly twenty years, I burst into tears. I couldn’t stop the sob that burst from my chest. I didn’t even feel sad, just tired, like a worn-out dishrag that had been squeezed so tightly it was dripping out every bit of moisture it held.
“Gibson? Are you okay?” Sage sounded panicked. They glanced from me to Joan and back, as if my emotional turmoil might spread to the horse.
I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes. “I will be. Thanks for the ride.”
“Sure.”
I unbuckled the helmet and handed it over as they climbed back into the saddle.
“Sage?” I said, struck by a thought.
“Yeah?”
“I might need your help. With a song I’m writing.”
They grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. “Okay!”
I watched them carefully guide Joan back up the lane, waiting until the giant horse and its rider was out of sight before opening the gate.
From the Victrola in the alcove, Nancy Sinatra was singing “You Only Live Twice” when I opened the door.
The kitchen light was on, and indistinct chatter from a trio of voices drifted through the hall.
The smell of a delicious roasting chicken suffused the main level of the house.
Nate’s deep rumble joined Anabelle’s high pitch and Yasmin’s California accent.
As the three of them erupted in laughter, I closed the front door, unable to stop the fond smile from appearing on my face.
“It’s always easier when you’re not alone,” I repeated to myself as I took off my shoes and wiped my eyes, readying myself to face my family.