Chapter 19
On the way to Isabelle’s farm, Dave Matthews Band’s Tripping Billies came through the speakers, so I rolled down the windows and turned up the volume.
I was almost out of the neighborhood when I saw my Mom’s blue minivan heading my way.
She was rolling her window down as I got closer, and then she stuck her arm out to flag me down.
I put my foot on the brake and came to a stop in the middle of Moorland Road.
When we were window to window, I turned down the music and she spoke, but she was strangely calm.
“Hi Allie, where are you headed?” she asked. Her cheerful demeanor had me immediately on guard. Instead of questioning it, I smiled and replied.
“I’m going to Isabelle’s farm to go horseback riding,” I said politely, to avoid her asking questions or telling me I couldn’t go.
“That sounds fun. What time will you be home?”
“I should be back by 4:00,” I said. This time, she replied with the weirdest thing I had ever heard in my life.
“Okay, we are going out to dinner tonight. It’s your choice. Wherever you want to go, we’ll go,” she said, with emphasis on it being my choice. Was this about my scholarship? Was she finally going to celebrate my accomplishments?
“What? Why am I picking? I don’t care where we go, just pick something.”
“I want it to be your choice, but if you don’t care, what about going to Richmond Country Club? You like that, right?”
“Sure, that’s fine, whatever. I’ll see you at 4:00,” I replied skeptically.
“Okay, have fun. Be safe,” she replied, with a sudden parental shift in tone.
“I know, Mom.”
As I began to roll my window up, she gave me a strange smile, told me she loved me, and then continued home.
What just happened? That was just too weird.
I put my foot on the gas, turned the music back up, and tried to take my mind off of it as I drove the winding roads out to Manakin Sabot.
Field after field full of cows and horses grazing behind beautifully painted three-board fences lined either side of the road.
How had I not known that Isabelle lived out here in this serene countryside?
The wooden Apple Blossom Farm sign swung gently in the breeze as I approached the gravel driveway.
Turning into the gravel drive, I slowed my speed and followed the fence line up to her house, passing a field of horses on the left and an apple orchard on the right.
She lived in a large white farmhouse with a wrap-around front porch and freshly watered ferns that hung along the roof line.
They dripped onto the porch rail as I climbed the steps to her front door.
Isabelle met me at the open door before I could knock.
“Allie! You made it! Come in!” she said with a huge smile.
This was such a nice welcome. I wasn’t used to being invited to other people’s houses, so I wasn’t sure what a normal greeting was, but this felt warm, unlike what my Mom extended to Chris when he came to my house.
“Through here!” she said, motioning for me to follow her inside. Isabelle walked through the foyer and down a long hallway that emptied out into a spacious kitchen. The windows spanned the entire back of the house that looked out to the back pasture, the apple orchard, and the barn.
“Wow! What a view,” I said, simultaneously exhaling and gazing out the window, wondering what it must be like to see this every day.
“Pretty great, right?” I spun around. “Hi, Allie! Welcome!” It was Isabelle’s Mom.
“Good morning, Mrs. Wharton. Thank you so much for having me over. Your home is so beautiful,” I said, still taking in the view.
“Thanks, dear. Hungry?” she asked, as she slid a basket of freshly baked rolls and a dish of butter across the kitchen island.
“Sure, thanks,” I said, reaching for a roll that was still warm to the touch. I looked at Isabelle with wide eyes.
“Is it always like this here?” I asked, pointing at the basket of bread. “Your mom is such a great hostess,” I said, now with a mouth full of bread, and Isabelle laughed.
“Yes, she loves to entertain. She’ll take any excuse to cook or bake,” she said, as she gestured around the kitchen. Her mom had multiple items on the stove and the counter.
“Is that all for us?”
“No, she has a dinner party tonight that she is hosting. Don’t worry. I asked her to please just be normal and make sandwiches,” she said. Just then, her mom returned to the kitchen.
“Ready for lunch, girls?” she asked as she pulled out the ingredients to make sandwiches, and Isabelle started to question her.
“Mom, why are you pulling out so many things? I thought we agreed to normal, boring sandwiches,” she said, as she got up and walked around the island to playfully nudge her mom.
Then Isabelle washed her hands and helped her make our lunch.
I watched as they both cut and prepared the ingredients for sandwiches.
It wasn’t something I was familiar with.
My Mom was an excellent cook, but the thought sank in that I had never once experienced cooking with her.
“This is so amazing!” I said, biting into the Italian sandwich, filled with every authentic type of deli meat, mustard, and mayo on a rosemary ciabatta bun.
“I’m so glad you like it, Allie!” said Mrs. Wharton. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Just some water would be nice, thank you,” I said. She nodded and passed me a sky blue Mason jar full of ice water.
After lunch, we helped clean up the dishes, then made our way towards the back door. Her Mom followed us, but before we went outside, she stopped us.
“Allie, have you ever ridden a horse before?”
“Yes, just a few times at a Dude Ranch.”
“Ok, let’s have her ride Lucky,” she said, looking at Isabelle.
“That was the plan,” Isabelle said.
“Just making sure,” she said, as Isabelle sat down on the bench to pull on her riding boots.
“Duh, mom, I’m not stupid,” she said, with a smile and a slight roll of her eyes.
“You girls have fun, it’s a beautiful day for a ride!” Mrs. Wharton said as she stepped back inside and shut the door behind her.
“Your mom is amazing, I am so jealous,” I said, as we stepped off the porch and headed to the barn.
“Yeah, she’s pretty great.”
The walk to the barn was peaceful. I could smell the first blossoms of the apple orchard as Fall was in full swing.
As we got closer to the barn, the smell shifted to hay and horse manure.
Once we got inside, Isabelle stepped into the tack room, then reappeared and passed me a red halter with a frayed cotton lead rope attached.
The halter had a brass name plate that read “LUCKY” in block letters engraved on the side.
We continued on down the aisle, and she stopped outside a stall as a chestnut horse with a small white star on his forehead suddenly stuck his head out and whinnied.
“Hi, Lucky!” Isabelle said, as she stretched out her hand and ran it all the way up his nose until it was between his eyes, and then back down again. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a treat, and passed it to me.
“How do I feed it to him?” I asked nervously.
“Hold out your hand flat,” she said, demonstrating with her hand.
Tentatively, I held out the treat to him as he quivered his lips into my hand.
As soon as his prickly lips and massive teeth grazed my palm, I pulled my hand away, but the treat was already gone.
Isabelle doubled over in laughter, then collected herself, opened the stall, and took the halter from me.
“I guess I’d better do the rest,” she said, still laughing.
I watched as she led him out of the stall and put him in cross ties, then groomed him for me before tacking him up with his saddle and bridle. She left him there until she was done tacking her own horse up, too.
“This is my horse, “Fury,” she said.
Fury was a light yellow Palomino with a white blaze all the way down his face and four white socks. He looked like one of those Breyer horses I played with as a child. He was beautiful.
We led both of the horses outside and climbed on, then Isabelle turned around and stopped her horse so that we could ride side by side. She gave me instructions on how to get the horse to stop and go. Those were all the directions that I needed.
We made our way towards a clearing in the trees and onto a dirt trail.
The breeze rustled the leaves as we moseyed down the path in silence for a moment while I adjusted my pant legs that were riding up.
Isabelle warned me that they would cause blisters if I didn’t tuck them into my boots, so I wanted to fix them before we got too far along.
Once that was settled, I cut the silence.
“So what is going on with you and Watson?”
“Well, he asked me if I wanted to hang out after we saw each other at the mall, so that’s pretty cool!”
“Wow! What did you say?
“Duh! I said yes.”
“That’s so exciting, so when are you going to see him?
“I don’t know. I keep hoping he will ask me to Homecoming,” she said, and I could hear the disappointment in her voice.
“Stay positive, there’s still time,” I replied, trying to cheer her up.
A little way down the trail, we came to a meadow clearing where we stopped to let the horses eat some grass. We stayed there for a while talking before heading back towards her house. On the way home, she flipped the script on me and asked about Chris.
“My turn!”
“Okay, what do you want to know?”.
“Is he a good kisser?” she asked, with a curious look on her face.
“Isabelle!”
“What!” She replied. “Oh, come on, who am I going to tell. Besides, I need some pointers if Watson and I ever make it that far.”
“Fine. Yes, yes. He’s a good kisser. I could kiss him all day. His lips are so soft and juicy. The way he knows exactly what to do with his tongue…” I started to trail off into details, and Isabelle interrupted.
“Ew! Okay, too much information, Allie,” she laughed. “Just kidding! Keep going, I want to hear it all,” she said with an eager look.
“Okay, well, if Watson opens his mouth, that means he wants you to put your tongue in his mouth,” I said.
“But what do I do with my tongue in his mouth?” she asked, confused.
“Well, you sort of slide it around with his tongue. Don’t worry, it will be obvious, I promise, and it will send fireworks throughout your body when it happens,” I assured her. She seemed satisfied with my answer as her house came into view.
“Have you and Chris done it?” she asked cautiously.
“Is!” I said, alarmed. “No,” and she nodded, but didn’t press the subject.
Once we got to the barn, she showed me how to dismount, then we led the horses back into the barn and she untacked them. Next, we cleaned them off and put them out in the pasture to graze. As we walked back to the house, I expressed to Isabelle just how wonderful an afternoon this was.
“Isabelle?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t thank you enough for today. This was so fun, and your horses are amazing. Thanks for inviting me.”
She looked at me, smiled, and then threw an arm around me and squeezed my shoulder as we walked back to the house together. When we got to the kitchen door, she pulled off her boots, and we went inside. Her Mom was still at the counter cooking.
“Hey girls! How was it?” she asked, as she looked up from the stove.
“Amazing!” I blurted out.
“I’m so glad,” she said, with the warmest smile. “You’ll have to come back soon, Allie. You’re welcome here any time. Congratulations again on your scholarship to Wake Forest. Your family must be overjoyed at such an incredible accomplishment,” she said.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled and shrugged. “Thanks again for lunch,” I said, as I started to make my way towards the front door.
“You’re welcome, dear,” she called behind me as I headed out the front door to my car.
On the drive home, I suddenly remembered my mom’s awkward conversation, which I had forgotten all about until now. Was I walking into some type of surprise party? I hated surprises, even if it would be nice to be celebrated for once.