twenty-seven | emberly #2
“Are you talking about the eagle’s nest?” Our guide turns a one-eighty in the saddle again. “It came down in that bad storm we had a few years ago.”
Iris practically deflates in the saddle.
Thank you for the spoiler, Jenny, I want to say.
“That’s why it’s hard to see,” she continues. “It’s a lot smaller now.”
So … not gone. Under construction.
“Look!” Iris rises in the saddle. “There it is!”
I pull back on Thunder’s reins and he actually stops. The only thing I can see in the trees is … more trees. And then I see some kind of structure high in branches of a towering pine.
As if the eagles understand that we’re admiring their home, they fly back to the nest and perch on the edges.
“Why is everyone stopping?” I hear Whit’s plaintive voice. “What are we looking at?” She nudges her horse, Cupid, toward our group, but the horse must know Thunder because it stops several yards away and no amount of coaxing and heel-nudging will convince it to come any closer.
“There’s an eagle’s nest,” I tell her.
“Maximus and April have two eaglets.” The hint of pride and the affection in Jenny’s voice makes it sound as if she’d been there to help with the delivery.
Rachelle laughs. “You named them? I mean, how do you tell eagles apart? They all look alike.”
Jenny shrugs. “Not once you get to know them.”
“Like Otto,” I say without thinking. “He has a scar on his nose.”
“Who’s Otto?” Olivia looks confused.
“A bear.”
My friends’ shocked expressions are almost comical.
“I kind of bumped into him the day I got here.”
“Like, a real bear?” Rachelle looks skeptical.
“A real bear.” My eyes meet Will’s and I smile.
Amazingly, he smiles back—the dark chocolate truffle smile—and I know what he’s thinking. Otto wasn’t the only thing I’d bumped into that morning.
A sudden commotion draws everyone’s attention to the trees again. Two fuzzy white heads are bobbing up and down in the center of the nest.
I could linger here for a few more hours, watching Maximus and April interact with their babies, but Jenny, our teenage horse whisperer, clicks her tongue and the horses fall into formation again.
Except for Thunder. He suddenly finds a new gear and tries to get around our guide.
“Thunder, no!” I keep my voice low.
He tosses his head in what can only be a gesture of defiance because now I’m in a wrestling match.
“Emberly?”
I hear Jenny’s voice, but if I lose focus, I run the risk that Thunder will regain control. Not that he ever lost it.
“Yes?” I squeak.
“Sit back in the saddle and don’t let your feet slide out of the stirrups. Thunder gets a little excited on this part of the trail because he’s anxious to get back to the barn.”
Well, I’m anxious to get back to the barn, too …
The ground begins to tilt.
No, I’m the one who’s tilting. I’m sliding off the saddle as Thunder ignores the reins, trail protocol, and Will’s shout as he lurches around Jenny’s horse and takes the lead.
Somehow, I manage to right myself. The reins have slipped out of my hands but I’m hanging onto the saddle horn the way Rose clung to that piece of wood in Titanic.
We round a corner but I don’t even SEE the barn. All I see is a blur of trees through the cloud of dust rising from the trail.
“Thunder!” I yell over the thud of his hooves pounding against the ground.
Now I’m wondering if I was wrong and this is how he got his name.
I hear a loud whistle, but the scenery changes and everything is in slow motion now.
Thunder’s gait changes and we’re flying through an open field. I release my grip on the saddle horn long enough to reach down and grab the reins before his feet get tangled up in them.
What did Jenny tell us during our two-minute orientation on riding?
Stop, drop and roll?
No. That was fire safety in elementary school.
Go … nudge with your heels. Stop … pull back on the reins.
Unfortunately, Thunder doesn’t respond to a tug on the reins. Or pleading. Like Maximus and April, he knows the way home and he’s going to get there as soon as possible.
I want to pull out my phone and call 911, but, like Reeve’s device-free canoe trip, our cell phones were confiscated and put in a basket before we left the stable.
Yes, that’s right. Whenever there’s potential danger, it seems the sturdy people who inhabit the Northwoods prefer to face it on their own.
The barn is getting closer and I can see a group of people standing inside the corral. Heads turn in our direction. Just when I think Thunder is going to crash through the fence—or worse, sail over it—we begin to slow down.
The people scatter anyway and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Runway clear. Prepare for landing.
I blink the dust from my eyes as Thunder rolls to a complete stop in front of the water trough.
“Cool!” I hear a teenage boy say. “Can I have that horse?”
By the time my group arrives a few minutes later, Thunder is the perfect gentleman. I’m frozen to the saddle, feeling a little dizzy.
Will slides off his horse and strides over to me.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so?”
“Em … give me your hand.”
“It’s, um, kind of stuck at the moment.”
He reaches up and peels my fingers, one at a time, off the saddle horn.
“Thank you.”
“Aren’t you going to get down?”
“Soon.”
Apparently, my response is too vague for Will, because he reaches up and pulls me out of the saddle. For a split-second, his body is flush against mine and I’m transported back in time to the studio.
Only this time, his hands don’t linger on my waist. He steps back so quickly that my knees buckle without the support.
“I’m sorry, Emberly.” Jenny walks up. “Thunder doesn’t do that very often, but you did a great job keeping him under control.”
More like hanging on for dear life, but fine, what she said.
I look around. Rachelle, Whit, and Olivia are already collecting their phones.
Which reminds me …
“Can you take a group photo of us?”
Jenny bobs her head. “Sure.”
“Am I a wreck?” It suddenly occurs to me that my hair probably looks like it was caught in a blender. I start to comb through it, but Will brushes my hands away.
“You’re making it worse,” he rumbles.
I stand completely still as he picks leaves and a stick from the tangles.
“You are …” he says underneath his breath.
I’m what?
I have no idea what Will was about to say because Iris lands between us.
“Will! Sunshine has a foal! Do you want to see it?”
She drags him away before he can answer and I catch Rachelle’s eye.
“Photo!” I sing.
She makes a face. “We’re all sweaty!”
“Pretend its glitter.”
I hand Jenny my phone and we crowd together in front of the sign. This is another Suite Sixteens tradition. The top of my dresser at home is lined with professionally framed photos from our reunions.
“Thank you, Jenny.” I trade my cell for a generous tip and block my friends’ path before they walk away.
“I planned something special for our last night together. There’s an Italian restaurant called DiMarco’s that supposedly has amazing Italian food and we have a six o’clock reservation.
It’s a bit of a drive, but I think it will be worth it. ”
Samantha had recommended DiMarco’s and you can’t go wrong with pasta, right? I’m also hoping that time with my friends will help me forget about leaving tomorrow morning. “Then, when we get back to the resort, I’m going to make dessert.”
Rachelle’s brows shoot up. “You?”
I know, I know. My reputation proceeds me.
“Yes—but I’ve been practicing.” And I have half a dozen cans of apple pie filling stashed in the kitchen pantry.
No one says anything. Whit is looking at Rachelle and Olivia is staring at the ground.
“Oh, come on.” I laugh. “You’re going to love it. Trust me.”
“We won’t be here for supper,” Rachelle finally says.
“What do you mean? Where else will you be?” My voice must have risen a little because Will glances in our direction.
“We all have early flights in the morning, so we decided to check into a hotel closer to the airport.”
“But this is our last night together.” They all know this, but I say it anyway.
“It’s a long drive to the airport and we have to drop off our rentals.” Whit flips her hair over her shoulder. “Not everyone can afford Sky Chauffeur.”
I’m sure she doesn’t mean it as a dig, but I still feel the sting.
“I’m sure we mentioned it,” Olivia murmurs.
“No. You didn’t.” Just like no one had mentioned a three-day canoe trip, dirty dancing with the local boys, or horseback riding.
I don’t know what’s happening, but everything feels wrong. Long distance friendships are hard, but we’ve been doing great the past seven years. At least I thought we were.
I remind myself we would have had more time together if I’d arrived on Saturday. Then, I would have been able to sign up for the canoe trip.
And wouldn’t have gotten to know Will and Iris.
The thought of leaving tomorrow twists my stomach into a knot and not only because I’ll miss my friends.
“We’re heading back to the resort, Em.”
The man taking up way too much room in my head is standing right in front of me now.
“So are we.” I press out a smile.
We can’t go to DiMarco’s, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have options.
“Is there a place we can go out for lunch near here?” I ask him.
“How about the Grill?” Will’s eyes gleam. “You never did get a brat burger.”
“We won’t have time to go out.” Rachelle is shaking her head. “It’s going to take a few hours to pack and we have to be on the road by four.”
“It’s not like we’d have a lot of time this evening, anyway, if we have to get up and leave at three a.m.,” Whit points out.
“You’re leaving?” Will looks confused.
For some reason, it makes me feel a little better that he didn’t know about the early check-out, either.
“They are.” I smile and feel it tip sideways.
Takeout, it is.