Chapter 19 Darcy
DARCY
The next morning the three of us are standing outside the barn at the lodge as the sun comes up, getting ready to make our way up Angel Mountain on horseback.
It’s cold outside, but my heart is light and I’m excited to spend some time out here with two of my favorite people in the world. Derek seems happy too and J.B. is thrilled that we decided to take her up on her idea from last night.
“You always mount a horse from the left side,” Derek explains to me. “I know it looks hard, but it’s super easy, and this horse is very gentle.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him this isn’t my first time riding. His old teaching instincts are clearly kicking in, and I can tell he’s enjoying himself.
“Put your left foot in the stirrup,” he says. “One hand on his neck, the other on the back of the saddle, and just pull yourself up with confidence. Horses love a confident rider.”
I do exactly as he told me, swinging up onto Mistletoe’s back and hoping it’s not super obvious that I actually know what I’m doing. The big white horse shifts his weight a little, but otherwise doesn’t move. He’s as tame as a kitten.
I lean down to stroke his neck and he whickers contentedly.
“That was good, Darcy,” Derek says. “You’re a natural.”
“Thank you,” I reply, lighting up like a Christmas tree from his praise, even though it’s not really earned.
J.B. is already astride Nutmeg, a dainty sorrel mare. Nutmeg snorts, her front hooves tapping the snowy ground like she’s excited for her adventure.
Satisfied that we’re both doing fine, Derek mounts Frankincense.
The massive black stallion has a long mane, and he’s one of the most gorgeous horses I’ve ever seen.
I don’t know what he’s doing at a mountain lodge in the Poconos, but he’s a sight to behold, especially with my boss on his back.
It looks like they’re ready to ride right off the cover of a romance novel.
“I’ll lead the way,” J.B. announces, giving Nutmeg a squeeze with her legs.
The mare takes off up the path, and J.B.’s laughter peals like a bell in the cold, sweet air. I don’t know how often she gets to practice, but she’s riding like she does this all the time.
“You’re next,” Derek says, gesturing. “Just give him a gentle squeeze with your legs. He knows the way, so you won’t have to do much from here. The whole trail is just a big loop.”
He’s right—the moment I give Mistletoe a light tap he’s plodding faithfully up the trail.
Morning birds are singing, and the pale dawn light filters through the bare branches of the trees and glows pink and gold on the snow. Even the cold breeze feels good against my cheeks with the rest of me bundled up and warm.
I haven’t been on horseback in forever and it reminds me again how much I’ve missed being out in nature. The city has a pulse of its own and there’s so much to do. But I never do any of it.
Like most New Yorkers, I’ve never even been to the Statue of Liberty or The Museum of Modern Art. Between the job and the commute I just don’t have a lot of hours left over for stuff like that.
Mistletoe’s gentle movements lull me into a sort of haze and I let myself get lost in the journey up the mountain. Ahead of me, J.B. seems relaxed too. I sneak a peek back at Derek.
“Doing okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I tell him. “This is really special.”
He gives me a smile and a wink, and I turn forward again, feeling as warm as hot cocoa inside.
The ride is wonderful and before long we reach the peak.
J.B. and Nutmeg canter out toward the edge. The horse snorts and dances again when J.B. pulls her up to admire the view. She settles as soon as Mistletoe joins her, and the two nuzzle each other for a moment, making J.B. smile.
“Best friends, huh?” I ask Mistletoe, reaching forward to scratch behind his ear.
Derek rides Frankincense up to J.B.’s other side, and the three of us look out over the snowy vista together.
I know that we’re not so far from the gleaming skyscrapers of Philadelphia or New York, but gazing out over the wooded hills, you could believe you had gone back in time. Unspoiled forest rolls out on all sides under a blanket of snow. It’s incredible.
We stay there for a long time, just breathing in the beauty and peace of the scene laid out before us.
After a bit, Mistletoe stomps his foot, and I guide him to take a little walk back closer to the path again. The view is incredible, but just being up here on horseback is good enough for me. I don’t mind him foraging a little in the undergrowth for an uncovered shoot of winter-browned grass.
We’re still ambling along a few minutes later, and I’m just thinking that we’ve been up here an awfully long time when Derek clears his throat.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks J.B.
At first there’s only the sound of the horses huffing and the birdsong.
“I don’t want to tell you,” she answers after a moment.
“You know you can tell me anything,” he says gently.
I look around but there’s no place I can go up here that won’t be in earshot. This is just a small clearing.
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” J.B. tells him.
“You could never disappoint me,” he says firmly. “Let’s hear it.”
She sighs, but he just waits.
“I… don’t really like school all that much,” she says at last.
“Oh,” he says, sounding genuinely surprised.
In some ways, I am too. J.B. was over the moon about getting in.
“I’m lonely,” she says.
“I miss you too,” he tells her right away. “I know it’s hard—”
“And it’s going to be so much more fun at home now with Darcy around,” she says without waiting for him to finish. “We’re going to be a family of three. Or maybe more than three?”
Her eyes flick to mine and they’re filled with so much hope.
I feel my heart twist in my chest like it wants to break free and fly to her.
How can this not be real?
And how are we supposed to tell her when the time comes that the new family she’s dreaming of will never exist?
“We’ll talk about this later,” Derek growls, wheeling Frankincense around and heading across the peak and down the looping trail back toward the lodge.
J.B. stays frozen right where she is.
I nudge Mistletoe and we join her looking out over the mountaintop.
“He’ll understand about school if you give him time,” I tell her gently after a moment.
She shrugs, her eyes still fixed on the horizon.
“You were really brave to tell him how you felt,” I go on after a moment. “It takes a lot of guts to tell someone you care about the truth.”
She nods once and a tear slides down her cheek.
I reach out a gloved hand and she grabs it and squeezes tight, and we stay like that for a long time, watching the sun rise.
I wish I could take away her pain and loneliness.
Maybe I could, if I could just muster the courage to tell someone I care about the truth about how I feel…