Chapter 26 Samantha
Samantha
When Natalie told me we were doing photos with our horses and random people in the community, I thought about cursing her out.
What a stupid idea, and so not what our program is all about.
It literally felt like my worst nightmare—horse-idiots showing up, wanting a picture-perfect moment for their poorly behaved little brats.
I had a session or two that were like that.
But the vast majority of the people who came already had a love of horses. They knew how to stand around them. They knew not to pull on their faces and heads. They knew to stand at their shoulder, non-threateningly, and let the horse drop its head down to them.
We chose the most photogenic horses, of course, the friendly ones who like people and small children. Drew’s a major fan favorite as a big grey with a massive draft face and sweet eyes. Orla the palomino Cob is probably everyone’s other top choice, and she loves children, thankfully.
Watching these families, snappy and stressed in some instances, after fussing over their hair and makeup and outfits, settle down when they came near the horses made me happy.
Watching their forced smiles transform into genuine smiles, and then spending my time realizing that none of us know what the future holds, I decided that our family needed a photo like this.
Sure, most of my real family’s actually back in Florida.
I suffered through massive family photos each year back there, but I was always the afterthought.
The focus was on my siblings who had children.
A lot of time was spent ensuring they all looked very cute and coordinated.
Here, with these women and their families, I don’t feel like an afterthought.
Even when Vanessa’s dealing with a, well, almost a mother-in-law who really stinks, and even when her kids are all painting cookies, she still notices I’m spiraling and comes to make sure I’m okay.
Natalie has now offered to be my surrogate three times. Twice in jest, and once in earnest.
Their kids call me Aunt Samantha, and they seem to mean it. I decide that this year, for Christmas, what I want is a photo of all of us, with our horses of choice. Since Natalie dumped Cillian, and Richard and I died a painful death, poor Jack gets assigned to take the photo.
“I think our photoshoots before prepared us for this moment.” Natalie’s smiling, but it looks half-forced.
She’s picking the dead parts out of the live wreaths we thought we were done with.
“They’re going to look fine in the photos.
” But now she’s frowning. “Why did all these little white flowers go brown so fast?”
“It’s been three days,” I say. “We didn’t order any more, because now it’s Christmas Eve.” I laugh. “I’d say we’re lucky they look as good as they do.”
We’ve never put this many horses into a photo, and it took us half the morning to get them all cleaned up. Rían actually volunteered to groom a few of them before leaving earlier, which was pretty nice. It’s too cold for baths, but they cleaned up pretty well.
Foxy’s dancing around a bit, but Vanessa’s new saddle looks amazing.
We saved Scout for last, but he’s been practicing standing tied, and he’s doing much better than I anticipated.
Earl Grey will have Trina and Paul on him with a bareback pad, but we did that for several families, and he was a champ about it.
He does keep trying to eat the wreath, but you can’t have everything perfect. That’s just not how life works.
It takes a very long, very tiring forty minutes to get all the finishing touches on the horses and lead them into the high pasture in the north, with Fortwilliam in the background, and the wind’s whipping more than I wanted, but then we all finally get lined up, and other than Scout dancing, and Teagan crying constantly for Speckles, whom we left back at the barn, it goes really, really well.
Jack’s beaming. “These are amazing. I wish I’d booked a session for my kids, now.”
“Why didn’t you?” Vanessa asks. “We’d have done them for free.”
“Speak for yourself,” Natalie says. “These are a lot of work.” But she’s smiling.
“Well, to be honest, I was worried Rory would start insisting on regular horseback lessons if I brought her anywhere near here.” He looks like he’s serious.
“Does she want them?” Because if he and Vanessa stay together, she’ll be family, too. “I can teach her for free. I don’t mind working her in.”
“It’s not about the money—I believe in paying people fairly for their work.” He sighs. “But it’s hard to fit in more things when you already play on one hurling team and coach another.”
“I could grab her and bring her over,” Vanessa says. “That would be a fun Christmas surprise, I bet.”
Jack’s pretty excited about the idea as we all walk our way back to the barn.
“What about me?” Blaine pats Teagan’s nose. “Because I think this one likes me.”
Teagan’s the finickiest mare I’ve ever encountered. She likes almost no one, and the people she dislikes, she bites.
“Oh, she likes you alright.” Natalie ruffles Blaine’s hair. “She hasn’t bitten you once.”
I laugh. “Yeah, Teagan’s a pony and a mare. She may be a paint, but she has red-mare energy.”
“Then could I do some lessons on her?” Blaine looks serious.
I know Natalie’s sad that she has never really taken to riding, or even given it a real chance.
“Of course,” I say. “She’s my least used pony, because she’s so picky about her riders. You’d be doing me a favor, really.”
“Then you can return whatever you got me for Christmas and teach me a lesson instead. Maybe I can take one with Rory at the same time.” She shrugs. “So we don’t take up too much of your time.”
“Tell the truth,” Hannah says. “You just want to lesson with her, because you’re almost ten and she’s five, and you think you’ll be way better.”
Blaine’s scowling, so I know it’s true.
“It’s fine,” I say, chuckling a little. “It’s nice to feel good at something, isn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Blaine says. “You aren’t any good either, Hannah.”
“Oh, boy,” Natalie says. “Hannah’s a very accomplished rider, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be as well.
” She leans a little closer to Blaine, releasing her hold on Dara’s reins a bit.
“And it’s good she’s great. It’s in your genes to have talent at this.
Remember what we said about being positive, even when you feel frustrated. ”
As if on cue, Scout reaches out and bites Rudolph the Red, one of my gift horses from Richard, and Scout’s nemesis, on the butt. Rudy kicks out, almost hitting Riona, who was behind and to the side of me, and chaos reigns.
Luckily no one falls off.
Once we get the horses settled down, Blaine almost losing hold of Teagan, we all rush to get them put away.
After all, it is Christmas Eve, and everyone has things to do.
I don’t have nearly as much as everyone else, though I am feeding all the horses alone tonight, since Rían has tonight and tomorrow off.
Blessedly, Mrs. Murphy and her daughter are handling our three holiday guests, since they bailed on Thanksgiving.
Natalie offered to host Christmas Eve dinner for our family, and Vanessa’s hosting Christmas Day lunch, so it seemed right that I relieve them from horse care as well.
The weather seems to love me, because it’s hardly rained in the last two days, which means most of the horses can be out.
Not as many stalls to muck is a real gift.
Once I finish getting the horses put away, and I have their dinner grain all ready to go, I head back to my place, checking over the gifts I had lined up.
I’ll look a little like Santa with a sleigh when I drive my car to dinner tonight.
I think I managed to get something that each of the kids will like, and I already gave Trish her big gift.
It’s Natalie who’s the real question mark.
I had a gorgeous photo of her and Cillian I blew up and framed.
So that’s clearly a disaster. I stuffed it in the back of my closet.
I figure I’ll hold off on trashing it, just in case they reconcile.
But then I had to rush to find her something else.
I wound up buying her a gorgeous emerald green knit cashmere sweater, and I just have to hope she’ll like it.
It was softer than the wool, by a hair, and made locally.
I mix up my almost-famous cranberry salad—the kids ate their weight in it at Thanksgiving, because of the marshmallows, I think—and then I have some time to kill. I notice Natalie has already emailed me some of the Christmas photos with a one-liner. Which is your favorite?
She included a few up-close ones of me she must have taken while we walked back, but the ones I like the most are of the three of us. In all the years we’ve been friends, we have hardly any photos of just the three of us. None of us with horses, not since we were kids.
I can’t help smiling.
But when I start looking at the photos with the whole family, focusing in on each child, I find myself becoming profoundly sad.
I can see Natalie in each of her children, in different ways.
Blaine’s tenacity. Hannah’s sunny disposition.
Amelia’s people-pleasing, and Clara’s strong desire to defend and protect.
Even Paul is like her, with his funny little quips.
That’s manifest in physical details, too.
Clara has her nose. Hannah is her clone.
Blaine’s got the exact set of mouth when she digs in, and Amelia’s quizzical look is a carbon copy.
Even little Paul’s hair is just like Natalie’s.
They’re all miniatures of their phenomenal mother.