“What’s he doing?” I truly did want to know even though it was also an attempt to change the subject.
Della peered at her son, sighing with affection. “Staying busy and not learning how to relax.”
“What do you mean?”
She gave me a strange look, her blue gaze almost as bright as the sky. “Nothing. It’s lime. The earth is a little acidic and growing too many weeds. He’s making it alkaline again.” She ran her fingers through Stardust’s mane. “The joys of having horses. Their manure isn’t good for healthy grass.”
“I had no idea.”
She shrugged. “Why would you? Ground management and crop rotation aren’t exactly a required degree when you’re travelling the world acting.”
I winced.
Yet another subject I didn’t want to discuss. Somehow, Della had an uncanny way of cutting through the unimportant stuff and focusing on topics that made me cringe.
“Okay, that’s two now.” Della grinned, blonde hair curling around her shoulders. “Which one do you want to tell me first? Why you fell off and broke your arm, or the part where you flinched when I mentioned acting?”
Cody pawed the ground, jostling me in the saddle. I used the excuse of settling him to keep my eyes far away from Della’s knowing ones.
Strange that I was brave enough to consider telling her about my lack of interest in acting when I’d yet to tell my own father. Then again, I wouldn’t hurt her by admitting that his dreams weren’t my own.
Sucking in a big breath, I rushed, “I don’t want to act. I have no interest in saying lines or dressing up or making stories come alive on screen. I’m almost finished with my studies. I could quit now if I wanted, and Keeko is supplementing my education with university grade lessons, but I’m too afraid to stop because if I do, I don’t know what that will mean. Will Dad expect me to get into acting full time? How will I say no to bigger parts when schoolwork is no longer my excuse?”
I inhaled again, plucking the soft material of my riding leggings and already regretting my honesty. “Please, keep that between us.”
Dad and Della weren’t close, but there was no telling if my being here was a ruse for me to tell her stuff so she could spy on his behalf.
She stayed quiet, the only sound the distant growl of Jacob’s tractor and the soft inhale, exhale of our horses. Finally, she nodded. “Anything you tell me is strictly between us, Hope.”
I flashed her a quick look. “Thanks.”
“If you don’t want to act, do you have something else in mind?”
I bit my lip, once again avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”
“Want to tell me?”
For a second, I shook my head. Then I remembered that, out of anyone, she would understand the most. She was a writer, after all. She’d penned her personal tale—shared her world with strangers—allowing her love to be read and watched a thousand times over.
That was the sort of magic I wanted to create. The power to touch people through conjuring the story rather than delivering someone else’s.
Sitting tall in my saddle, I admitted, “I want to be a scriptwriter.”
Her eyes widened just a little. “That’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
It was her turn to look away. “When we first met at the movie premiere, I had a hunch you’d be a good storyteller.”
“Oh, really?” A flash of heat and pride warmed me. To be acknowledged as something other than a child of Hollywood was wonderfully liberating.
“Yes.” Della smiled. “You were very eloquent even as a ten-year-old. From the first moment you introduced yourself, you had a tale about the origins of your name. That’s a skill.”
“No, that’s just talking too much.”
“Wrong. That’s fate already deciding who you’ll be.”
We fell quiet as the tractor turned off and Jacob leapt from the cab to fiddle with the contraption on the back. He was sure-footed and confident working with such heavy machinery.
Della turned Stardust away, nudging her into a walk. “And the reason you fell off?”
Damn, I thought I’d gotten off the hook.
Staring at her back, I encouraged Cody to follow, murmuring self-consciously, “It was because of Jacob.”
Della tensed. “Oh? How come?”
“I remembered how he looked sailing over the fence with no bridle or saddle on Forrest that day he made me ride him. He made it look effortless. Like magic.” My shoulders rolled, recalling my attempt at such skill on a creature I had no bond with. “When my instructor left the arena to grab her phone, I took off Polka’s tack, scrambled on bareback, and kicked her toward a jump. She had no idea what I wanted, and I had no clue what I was doing. It ended in disaster.”
Della looked over her shoulder, assessing me in that calm, all-seeing way. “My son is many things, and reckless is one of them.”