A Summer Without Horses (4 page)

I’
D
BEEN
JOKING
, of course, when I told my mother she could read all about it, but it turned out that it wasn’t a joke at all. I awoke to my mother’s screams.

“Lisa! Lisa! You won’t believe this! Lisa!” she cried, running into the bedroom from the sitting room and waving a newspaper at me. “Look at this! You’re here and so is Skye!!!”

I sat bolt upright in bed and looked at the clock. I barely had time to register the fact that it was 7:30 in the morning when the phone rang.

It was closest to me so I picked it up automatically. “Lisa Atwood, you’re a miracle worker!” declared a familiar voice. “I couldn’t have made it all come out better if I’d done it myself. It’s the old Saddle Club magic, isn’t it? You are something!”

Through the haze of morning sleepiness, I began to recognize where I was and what was happening. I was in Los Angeles, California, in a hotel with my mother who was hysterical with joy for some reason, still flapping the newspaper in my direction. I was talking on the phone with somebody who loved me. I recognized the voice from somewhere.…

It came to me. It was Skye. As he went on, the words “newspaper” and “column” and “Lamport” came through strongly enough for me to think that my mother’s actions and Skye’s words were somehow related.

“Stop! Everybody stop!” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Nancy Lamport’s column,” Skye said. “She wrote up everything I said last night. Listen to this: ‘While some young actors seem more concerned with bizarre techniques that make them look like the professionals that they clearly are not, others, like Skye Ransom, are busy with the business of humanity. This bright, young, handsome star, accompanied by a charming girl named Lisa Atfield’—I’m sorry she got it wrong, Lisa, but that’s the way she spelled it—‘was dining last night at Penelope’s and took time out from a social dinner to tell this reporter about the work he’s doing with chronically ill kids at Dade.’ ”

Skye took a breath. Mom handed me the newspaper and pointed to the column. It was a big story, two full
columns, headed by the words,
SKYE RANSOM
,
HUMANITARIAN
. Skye read to me, and I read along, loving every word.

“Imagine all the good this is going to do!” Skye said.

Yes, I thought to myself. It’s going to let the world know what a terrific guy Skye is. That wasn’t what Skye had in mind, however.

“With publicity like this, hundreds, maybe even thousands, more people will come to the charity auction! The kids! It’s going to be great for them. So much money for research …”

And that told me that Skye Ransom was every bit as great a guy as I’d always thought. He’d been worried about Chris making him look bad, and when the opportunity arrived to make Chris look bad, all Skye really cared about was the good that was going to come out of it for the hospital. In case I’d ever wondered why I liked Skye Ransom so much (which I hadn’t, by the way), there was the answer to the question.

“Lisa, there’s no way I can thank you for what you did. I was just sitting there at the table last night, trying to think of something to say, and you came through. You got me started talking about something that really mattered. It matters to me and it matters to a lot of sick children. It matters a whole lot more than Chris screaming in a blackened shower stall.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I told him. “Just knowing that Chris got put in his place
and
you’re going to
have a chance to help more kids is enough thanks for me.”

“Well, it’s not enough for me,” Skye said. “And I think I’ll have a way to repay you, just a little bit. I got a call early this morning from the production supervisor. They need to work on some of Chris’s solo scenes today so they don’t need me at all. I’ve got a surprise day off. When can you be ready?

“For what?” I asked.

“To go for a ride—a horseback ride. I know you must miss riding with your friends while you’re out here so I’ve arranged to have horses for us at a stable in the valley, north of the city. I can be there to pick you up in about an hour. We’ll have about a one-hour drive and then all day to ride and hang out. Okay?”

“Just a sec,” I said.

I had to talk to my mother, but I also had to talk to myself. First there was Aunt Alison, but I knew she’d understand about riding. Then there was The Saddle Club. If I went for a ride with Skye, I’d be breaking a vow. And—thanks to my own brilliant suggestion—if I said yes to Skye I’d have to invite Veronica diAngelo to join the club. My friends would never forgive me.

If they found out.

How could they find out? I wouldn’t tell. I could ask Skye not to tell. He’d understand, for sure. He disliked Veronica almost as much as we did. Mom wouldn’t tell, though sometimes I think she wants me to be Veronica’s
friend. Mom likes the idea of all the social power the diAngelos have in Willow Creek. Still, if I asked her nicely, she wouldn’t tell anyone.

My conscience pricked me again. I had made a pledge to my best friends. Stevie couldn’t ride, so Carole and I couldn’t ride.

This wasn’t just a ride, though, this was a chance to spend a whole day with Skye Ransom. I could see it—the two of us on our horses, riding across the craggy California mountains, or down by the Pacific Ocean, racing the waves, climbing off our horses and walking in the gentle surf. Just me and Skye, no photographers, no airhead starlets, no chauffeur, no Chris Oliver. How could I possibly say no?

“Forty-five minutes,” I told Skye.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

T
HE
PLACE
WHERE
we live, Willow Creek, Virginia, is hilly country. Everywhere you look, there are gentle rolling hills. Los Angeles is hilly country, too, but it’s not at all like home. In Los Angeles you can be driving along a perfectly nice, flat, straight road, then within a matter of seconds, find yourself on a very curvy mountain road. It’s very dramatic, but I was beginning to feel that everything in Los Angeles was very dramatic.

We were going up what I thought was our second mountain when Skye noticed that I was wearing jeans, a polo shirt, and a pair of paddock boots.

“Where are your real riding clothes?” he asked.

“This is what I’ve got. I wasn’t planning to do any riding, so I didn’t bring my boots and hard hat. I hope this is okay.”

He smiled his million-dollar smile at me. “Of course it is. You can wear whatever you want, as long as it’s safe.”

One of the other things I really like about Skye is that he understands what’s important. Fancy riding clothes are nice, but safe riding clothes are important.

After about four hundred curves, turns, and dips on the mountain road, we were suddenly in a valley and then in some more mountains and then, with one final turn, we were there.

The Double H was a huge stable surrounded by rings and paddocks. Several riders were working on a jumping course, while others worked with cavaletti, and another was lunging her horse. I took a deep breath as I looked around. It was great to be back around horses. The only thing missing was Stevie and Carole. I felt a twinge of guilt. It bothered me so much that I spaced out for the next few minutes, until Skye introduced me to my horse for the day.

His name was Kip. He was a chestnut gelding with three white socks. He was very tall and elegant and at first I thought he was a Thoroughbred.

“Not quite,” Mr. Ward, the owner of Double H, said. “He’s only half Thoroughbred, but when you ride him, you’ll find that it’s the bigger half. He’s a wonderful horse. I know you’ll enjoy this ride.”

I thought it was funny the way he described Kip as having a “bigger half.” I knew just what he meant.

I’m not the expert that Carole and Stevie are, and I
know I’ve made mistakes judging horses by their looks, but one look at Kip and I knew he was a good one. I turned out to be exactly right, too.

Mr. Ward put Skye on a bay named Chesapeake. Some stables choose their horses’ names in themes and a quick look around at the nameplates of the bay horses at the Double H confirmed that this was one of those stables. Their other bays were named things like Hudson, Cape Cod, Biscayne, and Botany. They were a real geography lesson in the bays of the world!

Twenty minutes later Skye and I were mounted and ready to go. Skye had just one more surprise for me and that was when the limo driver pulled a picnic for each of us out of the trunk of the car. They were packed in backpacks so we could ride with them. I knew it was going to be a perfect day.

Skye was familiar with the land around the Double H and Mr. Ward told us where to head for views and safe riding. We were off.

Skye had learned a lot about riding since the first time we’d met. He was comfortable at a walk, trot, and canter, at least on level ground, and he knew how to handle his horse well. Since I was the more experienced rider, I rode behind. The best rider should always be at the back in case something happens to someone up ahead.

The trail was incredibly dramatic. The path snaked up a hillside and every time we cut a turn, it almost took my breath away to see how high we were and how far we
could see. There were vast sections of towns and villages in the valley on one side of the hill and on another, there were endless stretches of hills, cliffs, canyons, and gorges. When we rounded the mountain we were climbing, suddenly there was the Pacific, stretching to the horizon. Skye stopped Chesapeake to look and I pulled up alongside him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I feel so far away from Hollywood when I’m here. That’s why I love this trail.” He glanced at me. “You help me with that, too,” he went on.

“Me?”

“Yes, you and Stevie and Carole,” he said. “I always think of you three as my
good
friends because you’re good for me. You three somehow manage to treat me as a human being and not as a superstar. Does that sound stupid?”

“No,” I told him firmly. “After seeing what happens when you go out, it makes total sense to me.”

Skye went on. “When the reporter wrote her column about me, all she was thinking about was the superstar part, but when you said the things you did, and started me talking about the things I do that I think are the most important and that I’m able to do for other people only because I
am
a superstar, well”—he looked at me and gave me that smile—“it was another way of being good for me. I had only been thinking about showing Chris up by being a professional superstar. You made it possible to
show him up by being a human. There aren’t enough ways to thank you for that, Lisa.”

With those words, he reached out, took my hand, and then leaned over and kissed me.

It’s true. Absolutely. I’ve been kissed by Skye Ransom.

When we broke apart I was shaking. I know it sounds silly, but I’ve only been kissed by two other boys and there’s something so special about Skye, even though it was a friendly-type kiss. At that moment what I wanted, more than anything in the world, was to tell Carole and Stevie all about it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell them about the horses and the mountain and the trail and the Pacific. I couldn’t tell them any of that and I probably couldn’t even tell them about the kiss because they’d want a zillion details and I couldn’t give them the details without letting them know I’d been riding. I gulped, almost wishing it hadn’t happened.

“Come on,” Skye said, interrupting my thoughts. “The place I want to have lunch is right up ahead a little and it’s got an entirely different view from this one. Just wait until you see it.”

There was a sort of plateau around the bend. It looked like the kind of place a Department of Highways would call Scenic View, except that there were no cars and no other people. It was panoramic. We could see mountains, valleys, gulches, hills, canyons, cities, and sky.

I know we ate the picnic because after we’d been there for fifteen minutes, I felt full and there was no more food
in our packs, but I was too enthralled with the view to notice what I was eating. Skye talked while we ate, too, and I do remember that. He talked about his movie and about Chris Oliver and how much it meant to him to have me help him with his career.

I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about what was happening. Just because Skye Ransom kissed me and just because he was telling me how much I meant to him, he wasn’t being a boyfriend. That wasn’t it at all, and one of the other things I like best about Skye Ransom is that we both knew that and neither of us had to say anything about it. Skye is much older than I am. He’s seventeen and I’m only thirteen. I don’t think he has many friends his own age. He doesn’t go to a regular school because he’s always working on a movie so he has his own tutor. He spends most of his time with adults, and the kids he knows are other professionals like Chris Oliver. That’s not exactly what I call a friend. To Skye, I am a friend, the same way I am with Stevie and Carole. It’s almost as if we’re the ones who get to teach him what being a kid is about. That’s something I’m glad to do for a friend.

After lunch we rode back down to the Double H. The jump course was empty. I really wanted to try Kip out on it and Mr. Ward said it was okay. He even found a hard hat for me to use. Skye sat on the fence and watched. He’s okay on a flat course, but he hasn’t done much jumping yet and he didn’t want to try.