That Summer Read Free Page B

heard you went to vet school.”
    “I did. I'm working in Maryland now, but I'm home because of my father.”
    “I was so sorry about your dad. Everyone in town loved him.”
    My throat felt tight. “He was a good guy.”
    “He was that.”
    I managed a smile. “What are you doing here?”
    “I'm just picking up some food for Lauren—my wife.”
    “You're married. That's wonderful, Justin.”
    “I'm married and I'm an attorney, working here in town.”
    “Better and better,” I said.
    “God,” he said. “Seeing you brings so much back.”
    We were silent for a moment, each of us contemplating his words. “Any children?” I asked brightly.
    “Not yet.”
    We talked for a few more minutes, then Justin pushed his basket away and I decided to take the Cheer.
    I drove home, put the groceries away, and went out to the front porch to wait for Mom. The April afternoon was warm and I could see the back part of the big house through the just-greening trees. My mind wandered back in time, and once again I was six years old and it was my first day at Wellington.
    My father had been hired to break and train Wellington's yearlings, and I was trailing along after him as he walked to the farm's office building to report to Brady Fitzgerald, the farm manager.
    We walked into a room filled with pictures of horses. The gray-haired man behind the desk was on the phone and he gestured my father to a seat and kept on talking. As my father sat down I looked at the black-haired boy who was sitting on an old sofa against the wall. He wore jeans and a T-shirt that said V IRGINIA IS FOR HORSE LOVERS .
    “Hi,” he said. “Who are you.”
    “I'm Anne. My Daddy is starting work here today.”
    “Then he must be Pete Foster.”
    I nodded.
    “He's come to break and train our yearlings and two-year-olds.”
    I nodded again.
    He looked me over from my long brown braids to my well-worn jeans and sneakers. “Do you ride?”
    I stared at him with as much astonishment as if he had asked me if I breathed. “Yes.”
    “I don't mean can you sit on a horse. I mean can you
ride?
The kid who was here before you was afraid of horses.” He curled his lip in scorn.
    He was the most self-possessed child I had ever met and he was starting to annoy me. I stuck my chin in the air. “You can ask my father if you like. He's the one who taught me.”
    Mr. Fitzgerald had hung up the phone and now he and my dad were talking.
    The black-haired boy said, “I own two ponies. Do you want to go for a ride with me?”
    “Sure,” I answered recklessly.
    “Ask your father.”
    I waited until there was a break in the conversation before I said, “Daddy, can I go for a ride with this boy? He's got two ponies and he said I could ride one.”
    Mr. Fitzgerald said, “I don't know if that's such a good idea. Liam is a Cossack with that pony of his.”
    My father looked at the boy's proud face. “I don't believe we've met.”
    “This is Liam Wellington, Pete. Lawrence's son.”
    My father smiled at Liam. “He won't do anything that Anne can't do as well.”
    Liam curled his lip once more.
    My father said peaceably, “You wouldn't do anything that would get Anne hurt?”
    “Of course not,” was the lofty response.
    “All right, then, Anne. But don't be late for supper.”
    The men went back to their conversation and I trailed Liam out of the room.
    We went to the broodmare barn, which was laid out around three sides of a center courtyard. There was a statue of a horse in the middle. “Who is that?” I asked, looking at the bronze statue.
    “That's On Course. He was bred here then he went to England and won the Epsom Derby. He also won the French Arc de Triomphe. He's the most famous of all Wellington's horses.”
    “Have you ever won the Kentucky Derby?”
    “No.” He gave me a burning look. “But we will someday.”
    Two ponies were stabled in adjoining twelve-by-twelve stalls bedded deeply with hay. “Jake is my old pony; I'm too big for him now.