One to Take (One to Hold 8)

* * *

We’re out of the truck and walking up to the house when Sylvia meets us at the door smiling brightly.

“Congratulations, you two,” she laughs, catching us both in a hug. “I’ve been dying to say that.”

“You already said it to me,” I squeeze her arm.

“Yes, but we’re not sneaking around anymore, and I can be a proud grandmother to be. Again!”

“Congratulations.” Bill’s calm voice reaches us from the kitchen. “Winona’s cooking a special dinner to celebrate.”

Holding Sylvia’s arm, we walk to where he’s standing by the bar holding a dark soda I assume is a Pepsi. “We’d like to schedule that ultrasound as soon as possible,” I tell her. “Can I get the number for Dr. Brown?”

“It’s in my purse.” She gives my hand a pat and sets off down the hall to find it.

I continue into the living room and drop onto the sofa. Stuart goes to where his uncle is standing and says something I can’t hear. The two of them leave in the direction of Bill’s office, and I see my little horse trotting around the yard through the window.

“I’m outside,” I say to no one in particular and leave through the double doors behind the couch.

After our swim, I put on a long, floral skirt and tank top. I’m not quite big enough for maternity clothes, but my jeans and pants have gotten too snug to be comfortable. Still, I have on my cowboy boots, and when I get to the yard, I climb up on the fence and sit on the top rail to watch Jessie run.

She slows when she sees me, and I wonder if she might come to me the way I saw her walk up to Stuart yesterday. Climbing down into the yard, I try to remember how he did it. His hand was on his chest, and he made that clicking sound with his mouth.

Moving slowly toward her, I try it. “Here, Jessie,” I say in a soothing tone. “Come to me, girl.”

I’m holding my hand out, although I don’t have any of the treats he was giving her. I hope that doesn’t make her not trust me. Thinking the better of it, I pull my hand to my chest and just make the noise as I carefully walk to where she’s standing.

Freckles stands away to the side watching us. The other four horses have their heads in the hay, munching and disinterested.

“Come here, Jessie,” I say again softly and click my mouth.

Her large dark eyes are fixed on me, and I can almost see her thinking, trying to figure me out.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say in a sing-song voice. H

er small, black head with the spattering of black freckles across the nose stills.

I’m almost to her. I feel like I can’t breathe as I reach out my hand again, slowly toward her black velvet nose. Her muscles quiver, and just as I’m about to make contact, Stuart’s voice cuts through the moment in a stern rebuke.

“Mariska!”

Jessie does a quick little two-step and jumps away, running to the fence and around the yard.

A frustrated exhale rushes out of my lungs in a huff. “I almost had her!”

“What are you doing?” I can tell he’s irritated. I’m irritated.

“You ruined it,” I grumble, stomping to where he’s standing outside the fence frowning. “I was so close to petting her, and you scared her away.”

“You were close to getting hurt. Now come out of there.”

I stand in place glaring at him defiantly, hands on my hips. “You said you were going to teach me how to train her.”

“I’m going to have to gentle her more first. Especially now.” The last part is muttered under his breath but his voice is louder when he commands me. “Come out of there now.”

“I’m pregnant. I’m not an invalid.”

“You still need to take it easy.” He says, climbing onto the fence. “Jessie is unbroken, and Freckles is flighty. She could kick you. Or worse.”