All Your Life by Lily Foster

Chapter Three

It’s still quiet at this hour.

It’s early May but I can still see my breath in the chill of the early morning air. I don’t mind the cold.

My mother used to obsess over the chances of me contracting pneumonia when I was younger. This can’t be good for her, I’d hear her complaining to my father. It’s freezing in that stable. Arms crossed, I’d plead my case to my father, reasoning that if the horses didn’t get sick in the winter then neither would I.

He’s always had to play the role of referee. It’s not that my mother and I butt heads on a regular basis, it’s just that we’re not like-minded. We tend to disagree about pretty much everything. My father has spent years as the go-between, handling negotiations with the tact of a seasoned diplomat.

And in the end, I won out. It took a couple of winters of me not contracting bronchitis, the flu, or so much as a bad case of the sniffles for her to let up, but eventually she did. And I firmly believe all that time spent out in the elements has toughened me up—you can’t tell me anything different.

I breathe in deep, fill my sturdy lungs with that crisp air, and smile when the scent of fresh hay and leather hits me. It’s a smell that’s so uniquely horsey. I lean in and nuzzle Shadow’s mane, and he turns his face to show me some love right back. It never gets old.

The sound of boots on the ground gets my attention. Braids, bright eyes, and a smile that stretches clear across her face. This one can’t be more than nine or ten, and she reminds me of myself at that age. You can tell from the look on her face that there’s nowhere else on Earth she’d rather be. A girl and her horse. I had that same single-minded obsession way back when.

Back then I spoke to Shadow in the early morning on the weekends, and then every afternoon as soon as I could cast off my school uniform and tug on my boots. I told Shadow everything, even though most of the time I wasn’t speaking a word aloud. I believed we had this perfect symbiotic relationship where no words were necessary. I could ease his worry with a gentle brushing, and Shadow could soothe me with a nuzzle, or cheer me up with a whinny.

“You’re here early.”

“Early?” I don’t look up at Mr. Murphy as I go on brushing my baby. “I used to get here before sunrise.”

“Still, it’s pretty early for a teenager. My nephew was snoring like a bear when I left, and if I don’t call him every hour on the hour he’ll be late for his shift at noon.”

“He snores?”

“Sleeps soundly is a better way of putting it. Guess you could say I’m jealous. Sound sleep isn’t easy to come by at my age.”

“You’re not so old, Mr. Murphy.”

“I’ll be sixty next month. And my own kids had already flown the coop by the time my younger sister had this hellion, so don’t mind my complaining. I think I’m just too old to be raising a teenager at this stage in my life. I prefer horses,” he rustles my hair like he’s done since I first started riding here, “present company excluded.”

“He lives with you?”

“For the time being.” He changes the subject, telling me the farrier is coming on Monday. “Tell your father I’m having him look at Shadow.”

“Are his shoes ok for now?”

“Sure, you can ride him today. I just need your dad to approve the expense.”

I nod, knowing it’s no big deal. Horses are wildly expensive, but my father has never once balked at the boarding, training or vet bills. Where I’m concerned, no expense is spared.

“It looks like rain, little gypsy girl, so if you plan on riding, you best get a move on.”

I smile whenever he calls me by that name now, but it used to irk me to no end. When I was a kid I was obsessed with some book, Gypsy from Nowhere. I saw myself as Wendy, the girl who gets sent to live on a faraway ranch and comes to rely on a horse to heal her spirit. Sometimes I’d read it out loud to Shadow, using a different voice for each character in the story. You know, to put on a good performance for my animal audience. I think Mr. Murphy got a kick out of my weird behavior.

He made the mistake of calling my horse Gypsy once, and I went off on him like the spoiled little brat that I was back then. His name is Shadow. And after laying down the law, I proceeded to school Mr. Murphy while he did his best not to laugh. Gypsy is brown, not black like Shadow. And my horse doesn’t have weird, different colored eyes like Gypsy, see?

“Ok, ok...I get it, kid.” Mr. Murphy temporarily conceded the win to me, but the next day when I showed up to ride, he greeted me as Gypsy Girl and the nickname stuck.

One brown eye, one blue. A genetic anomaly. Maybe I am more like Gypsy than Wendy.

Gypsy, the girl from nowhere.

And today I ride like her—no form, no rules. I warm Shadow up and then take off into the back trails and hills. I am literally off the beaten path, knowing there’s a part of me that wants to get lost out here in what passes for wilderness in New Jersey.

By the time we get back, we’re both wrung out. My hair is a tangled mess and Shadow is ambling back to the stable like an out of shape runner who just ran a marathon.

Mr. Murphy is red in the face too, but he looks more pissed-off than tired.

“Everything ok?” I ask as he snaps his phone shut. Yes, he still has a flip phone.

“The kid is going to send me to an early grave. If he gets fired from this job...”

“You said his shift is at noon. It’s not even ten-thirty.”

“Lunch is served at noon. He needs to report to the club at eleven. He’s probably awake and not answering his phone just to be a pain in my arse.”

“He’s working here?”

Murphy nods. “If you spot a kid covered in tattoos with his hair tied up in man bun, that’s him.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Tattoos? Tell your nephew to roll his sleeves down in the dining room. Some of the members won’t be too keen on the ink.”

“If I tell him to roll his sleeves down, he’ll be sure to wear a tank top.”

“What’s his name?”

“Liam.” Mr. Murphy takes the reins from me. “He’s about your age, I think.”

“A senior in high school?”

Mr. Murphy sighs as he shakes his head. “Well, he would be a senior if his mother didn’t let him drop out of school two years ago.” Handling Shadow with care, he lifts each foot to inspect the shoes. “Looks good. I was getting a little worried...You were out for a long time.”

“I won’t ride him again until he’s ready.”

“Tuesday.”

Both of us turn when someone clears their throat, loud and angry. His eyes are laser focused on Mr. Murphy as he holds up his phone asking, “Six messages? What’s that about?”

And my eyes? Oh, they are currently laser focused on the brooding hottie standing before me.

He’s gigantic. Like a rugged frontiersman who could wrestle a bear kind of big. I check for a man bun but see that his sandy blond locks are neatly secured at the nape of his neck. Good. He’ll get a few side eyes for the long hair but it’s not like he’s channeling Jason Momoa.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re not late on your first day.” Mr. Murphy looks down at his watch. “I’d say you’re cutting it close.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Danny, everyone will get their cucumber finger sandwiches right on time.”

He looks my way when I giggle, but his hard eyes cut through me and suck the air from my lungs. I immediately look down to my boots to avoid his glare.

Mr. Murphy looks up to the ceiling and lets out a breath once his nephew leaves. “Like I said…That kid’s going to be the death of me.”

I take a deep breath too, relieved once his nephew is gone. “All these years and I didn’t know your name was Danny. Same as my dad, but everyone calls him Daniel.”

He smiles in a way that tells me he knows I’m doing my best to lighten the mood and he’s grateful for it. “Need some help with Shadow today?”

“Nope,” I tell him as I go on making long, lazy brushstrokes. “I have nowhere I need to be.”