“Savannah—”
“Are you sick?” I ask quickly, wanting to rip the bandage off.
“No,” Dad says. “Why’d you ask that?”
“Mom,” I choke out, as my heart races out of control. When my parents told me Mom had cancer, we went to McDonald’s as a special treat.
Dad puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer. “I’m not sick,” he says quietly, glancing over at Cindy. “It’s the exact opposite. We went to the doctor this afternoon for a gender ultrasound.”
“Let’s order pie and have a toast with our forks,” I say, raising a hand to wave down a waitress.
“Shortcake, don’t you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Cindy asks.
Part of me wants to know, and part of me doesn’t. “Whatever it is, we’re still getting pie.” I wave my arm at the waitress. She’s standing behind the counter yapping on her cell phone.
Cindy’s face falls and Dad gently curls a hand around the back of my neck.
“Savannah…” Dad’s tone brings my attention back to him instead of pie procurement.
“I guess Cindy’s gonna need a double order of pie,” I say, trying to delay the conversation. If things were different for my family, I wouldn’t mind so much that they’re having a baby. “So what is it?”
Cindy grins shyly. “It’s a girl.”
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” Dad says, kissing the side of my head.
“I was thinking about tomorrow,” I lie, not wanting to discuss the baby. I lightly run my fingers over spilled salt on the sticky table.
“What’s tomorrow?” Cindy asks.
“I ate lunch with Jack Goodwin today, and he asked me to work with Star personally on starting gate training.”
“And?” Dad asks.
“I said okay. I told Jack I’d meet him first thing.”
“Shortcake, there are other boys out there,” Cindy says slowly, shaking her head. Does she have to call me that?
“It’s one thing to work with his horse, but I don’t want you around him,” Dad says. “I don’t want you to upset Mr. Goodwin.”
What if they knew he nearly kissed me last night?
Cindy nervously taps her knife on a plate. “Have you been spending time with Jack? At breakfast this morning, I overheard him telling his little sister how much you impress him and that you’re a good role model.”
A role model ? Talk about the last thing you want a guy to say about you. “He was talking about me?”
“What’s going on with you and Jack?” Dad asks in a rush.
“Nothing,” I say, my face flashing hot.
“Shortcake, you know we don’t need any drama right now. Not with a baby on the way.” How unfair. He’s the one who got his girlfriend pregnant.
My mind is all screwed up because I loved eating lunch with Jack, and I like working with him and Star, working toward something together, and I can’t sort it out in mind, and I’m gonna have a sister who’ll go through the same shit that I’ve been through—growing up eating the free lunch, not having much for dinner, and wearing yard-sale clothes—and I can’t even flirt with Jack without feeling guilty, because Dad and Cindy are having a baby they didn’t plan for.
“I’m just helping with Star,” I say. “That’s all.”
“You don’t need to work with Star on the gate,” Dad says, sipping his coffee. His hand shakes as he sets the cup back on the table. “I’ll talk to Jack in the morning and take over Star’s training personally if he’s that worried about the colt.”
“Dad, it’s okay. I can handle it…Can we get some pie over here?” I call out.
The waitress finally hangs up her phone, and soon we’re toasting my new sister over rhubarb pie.
If pie only cured confusion.
The next morning I meet Jack at Greenbriar barn at 5:00 a.m. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, and the grass is still damp with dew.
“Morning,” he says, tipping his hat, giving me a grin that makes my palms go sweaty.
Along with Star, we bring Mr. Goodwin’s stallion Lucky Strikes with us to the gate. This horse won the Preakness and the Breeders’ Cup a few years back. People who don’t know horseracing think the Kentucky Derby is the most important race in the world, but the Breeders’ Cup in California attracts the best horses of all. It had a $5 million purse last year.
“Tie Lucky Strikes to that hitching post,” I say.
I hand Jack two bags full of baby carrots and sliced apples; then I mount Star and steer him to the starting gate. He whinnies, his ears go flat, and he backs up. I rub his neck and comb his hair, murmuring nonsense to him. “It’s okay,” I say quietly. “It’s just a gate. It’s not scary. It’s okay.”
I pat his neck again. “Jack, come in here quietly, shut the gate behind you, and climb up next to me.”
Soon he’s standing on the side of the gate, resting a hand on Star’s head. Star is going crazy, whipping his head around every which way, banging against the stall.
“Feed him an apple slice,” I call out, and Jack follows my orders. Star munches on his apple. “Feed him another,” I say again, holding the reins steady.
“God, you’re a taskmaster.”
“Feed him another.”
“It’s cramped in here,” Jack says loudly, wiping sweat off his face.
“Remind me never to work on a submarine,” I say, both overwhelmed and intoxicated by the smells. This early in the morning before baths, Jack and Star both have their own muskiness going on.
Star won’t stop snorting, so I decide to take an extreme course of action. “Star!” I transfer the reins to one hand and grab Jack’s hand with the other.
“What the—” Jack gazes down at our linked hands and glances around, as if making sure we’re alone.
“See, Star? Jack’s my friend. Be nice.”
We stay inside the gate, holding hands, until Star’s breathing calms down and he’s still. I think I’ve bored the hell out of the horse.
“That’s probably enough,” I say. “Let us out of the gate, and now we’ll do the same thing with Lucky Strikes while Star watches.”
Back outside the gate, I call for an exercise rider to mount Lucky Strikes and ride him into the gate. I stand with Star, feeding him apples and carrots, while Lucky Strikes moves in and out of the gate, over and over. Then I feed both Star and Lucky Strikes apples out of my palm, loving how their lips tickle my hand.
“Did you get your training style from your dad?” Jack asks.
I nod. “Dad always says that horses learn by watching other horses. And all guys love food, right?” I hold up the bag of carrots and apples.
“True.”
I wipe sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “I need to exercise Star before school.”
Jack smiles and nods. “Thanks again.”
I take Star out on the racetrack and ease him into a jog, thinking of how patient and kind Jack was this morning. At Gael’s signal, I bring the colt to a full gallop and race him around the track, waiting for the speed to make my brain go numb.
After the workout, I pull my gloves and helmet off and look up to find Jack standing beside the clocker’s tower with a mug of coffee. “Two sugars and cream?”
I set my helmet and gloves on the ground, take the cup, wrap both hands around it, and sip slowly. “It’s perfect.”
He smiles. “I thought Cindy was lying to me. She didn’t seem happy when I asked her how you take your coffee.”
“She didn’t lie to you,” I say, sipping again.
“I figured you might like it black or something. Black for a badass girl.”
I give him a look. “Well, thanks, I think.”