The You I Never Knew (21 page)
C
ody was glad his mom didn’t demand some big explanation when he said he wanted to go to Sam’s in the morning. All he had to tell her was that his head felt fine, he’d wear a hat, and he wanted to see the foal he’d helped deliver.
ody was glad his mom didn’t demand some big explanation when he said he wanted to go to Sam’s in the morning. All he had to tell her was that his head felt fine, he’d wear a hat, and he wanted to see the foal he’d helped deliver.
Her face took on that tight, nervous expression she got when she suspected he was up to something, but she drank her coffee in thoughtful silence. He wondered what she was thinking. Then he decided he didn’t really want to know.
Cody waited, stiff and apprehensive, while she called Lonepine. But she didn’t talk to Sam. She talked to that Indian guy, Edward Bliss. Edward was okay, kind of goofy but not too bad. He said it was fine to come, so by nine o’clock Cody was jumping out of the Range Rover and heading for the barn. The dog—Sprout? No, Scout—came churning across the snow to accompany him.
He heard his mom calling stuff after him—keep his hat on, call if he started to feel bad, all that crap—but he simply waved without turning. It was rude to blow her off, but if he didn’t walk away, she’d sit there for an hour telling him be careful of this, watch out for that, and he wasn’t up for maternal lectures this morning.
“Hello,” he called as he stepped into the barn. Scout trotted around, sniffing loudly, acting important. The central breezeway was dim and a little warmer than outside thanks to some heat lamps hanging from the rafters.
He poked his head into the cluttered office. “Anyone here?”
No one in sight. He figured Sam was probably at work, and Edward was either out on the range somewhere or still in his cabin across the way. The Border collie found a heap of old blankets by the wood-burning stove and curled into a ball for a nap.
“Excellent,” Cody said under his breath. It felt good to be alone, away from everybody. He didn’t like people hovering over him.
Outside the office, he put on the boots he’d worn the other day. He picked up a set of tan coveralls and stepped into them. Stomping his feet to warm them, he was glad there wasn’t a mirror around, because he was sure he looked like a complete dork. As he pulled on a pair of gloves, he quit thinking about how he looked. He wanted to see the mare and her foal.
The birthing stall had its own set of heat lamps in all four corners. The light from them fell at an angle over the mare and the baby, and for a second Cody gawked at them with a hitch in his throat. Sylvia stood calmly in the middle of the stall. She made a noise, like someone clearing her throat, when she spotted Cody. It was a friendly sound. At least, he was pretty sure it was friendly. Then she used her big muzzle to nudge at the foal, which was sleeping curled up like a kitten near her feet. The little one lifted its head, then staggered up, all wobbly. First it splayed out its front legs, then its hind legs, and after a minute it figured out how to get up on all fours. Cody was tempted to help, but Sam had said it was best to let the baby get up on its own.
It lurched against its mother, lips nibbling comically at her belly. She nuzzled it some more, twisting back to guide it to her udder. After a while, the foal stuck its head in the right place. Cody had never expected the sound of nursing to be audible, but it was—sucking, swallowing, gurgling. He’d probably be embarrassed if anyone else was around, but he had the moment all to himself, so he leaned on the stall door and grinned.
The soft morning light, the little drift of steam from the mare’s nostrils, the funny sucking sound made by the foal and the way its skinny legs splayed out. Aunt Natalie—she wasn’t his real aunt but his mom’s best friend—would get all gushy at this point. But hell, Natalie got gushy over Hallmark commercials on TV.
When he’d talked to Claudia last night, he’d tried to describe what it was like seeing a foal being born, but she’d just said “Gross” and started nagging him about the pain pills. He sort of wanted to tell her about finding his father, but he couldn’t figure out a way to bring up the topic. Sometimes he wished Claudia was the kind of friend he could tell this stuff to, but the fact was, she never really seemed interested in heavy personal stuff. She was too into having a good time, and when Cody was with her, that’s what he wanted, too. But sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have someone he trusted, someone he could really talk to, because some days, like today, he had news burning a hole in him.
Maybe he couldn’t unload about Sam, but he’d try to find a camera somewhere, take some pictures of the horses to show Claudia. The filly was so goddamned cute, how could anyone not want to see it?
His mom used to draw awesome pictures of horses. He thought of the paintings stacked in the closet of her study at home. The large, flat folder was filled with old sketches and watercolor and acrylic studies. When he was little, he had asked her about them, paging reverently through the stack and regarding the horse drawings with astonished admiration. “What are these, Mom? Did you do these?”
“Years ago, baby.” She always used to called him baby, sometimes even slipped and did so now. “I don’t have time for that kind of drawing anymore. I’m too busy drawing for work.”
“I like these better than work.”
She’d looked at him with big, sad eyes and tousled his hair. “So did I, baby. So did I.”
She had never said much more about those pictures, but Cody used to look at them in secret sometimes. Now that he’d seen his grandfather’s ranch, he knew where those drawings came from. Horses and mountains and a rushing river. A tall fir tree next to a salt lick. A nest of loons in a marsh, the still water mirroring a snow-peaked mountain. They were all pictures made while she was at Blue Rock Ranch.
Sam’s mare and foal would have fit right in with those pictures. His mom could have made a hell of a drawing of those two. But she had given up painting when he was a baby, and he had no memory of her doing anything but agency work. Still, she kept her old pictures.
One Fourth of July when he was about ten, Cody had been awakened by the boom of fireworks over Elliott Bay. He’d gone looking for his mom, and he’d found her in her home office, the drawings spread out on the floor. She was drinking a glass of wine and silently crying. Disconcerted, Cody had crept back to his room.
Now he knew the source of her memories and her sadness. When she had lived at Blue Rock Ranch all those years ago, she’d met Sam McPhee.
His father. His goddamned father.
Cody scowled the thought away. He actually did some work, cleaning the lines and pans of the watering device. The contraption served all the stalls, filling with fresh water when one of the horses pressed its tongue against a bar in the center. He filled the wheelbarrow with manure from empty stalls and hauled it outside. He kept stopping to check on the mare and foal.
After a while, the filly quit nursing. The mare started doing motherly things, like sniffing it all over, giving it a lick here and there. Cody wondered if he’d be welcome in the stall. The kick in the head had been an accident. A reflex. Even with his limited experience, he knew that.
When he lifted the latch of the stall door, his hand trembled a little, surprising him. He didn’t think he’d be afraid. That was stupid. He made himself open the half door and step inside, boots sinking into the soft layer of straw. He made a smooching sound with his mouth, the way he’d heard Edward and Sam do.
The filly shied, but the mare looked up, nodding her head in a funny way that made him smile. “Hey, Sylvia,” he said softly. “How you doing, girl?”
She grunted, then stretched out her neck so her big soft muzzle nudged his shoulder. And Cody, the most self-conscious kid ever born, forgot to be self-conscious. He rubbed her nose, and her bristly chin, and her neck, murmuring soft nonsense. She sighed with contentment when he scratched her between the ears.
The foal kept watching them, tail flicking, ears pricked forward. Cody held out his hand, low with the palm open. “C’mere, little one. I won’t hurt you. C’mere…”
The foal lurched to its feet. Cody went down on one knee, moving slowly so he wouldn’t startle her. She sniffed his hand, nose twitching, and jerked her head back. He held his hand steady, keeping up a low-voiced monologue. The foal sniffed and pulled back a couple more times. Finally, she allowed Cody to give her a rub between the eyes. She pressed forward in clear acceptance, letting him rub her muzzle and head. He laughed out loud when her small pink tongue came out and licked his hand. She latched on to his finger, sucking away. She was so damned cute, shiny as a new penny, cuddling up to him like a regular pet. Completely lost in the moment, he looped his arms around the foal’s neck and pressed his cheek to her warm, smooth face.
He heard a noise behind him. The mare, thumping her foot on the floor, he told himself. Please let it be that.
He stood up and turned, knowing goddamned good and well it wasn’t the mare that he’d heard. Someone had just caught him red-handed at his most ridiculous.
“Hi, Cody,” she said. “I came to see the new foal.”
“Um, Molly, yeah.” He could feel his face filling up with a blush like a thermometer rising. “That’s your name, right? Molly?” As if he’d forgotten. As if she’d be fooled.
She grinned at him, and the sun through the skylights seemed to get brighter for a second. She was amazing, her long straight black hair so shiny it was like water. Her face was the type of face you never wanted to look away from.
“That’s my name.”
His ears were on fire. He could feel the flames rising from them. “I was, um, making friends with her myself.”
She let herself into the stall, expertly stroking Sylvia to put the mare at her ease. But her eyes never left the foal. “Ooh, she’s such a little beauty.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a treat for Sylvia. “It’s okay that I saw you doing that,” she said as the mare crunched down the carrot.
Cody nearly choked with embarrassment. “I was just—”
“I usually kiss ’em on the lips,” she stated, then squatted and held out a hand to the foal.
He stood back, feeling a tad superior that the filly wouldn’t have a thing to do with the girl. He didn’t care how long she spent trying to coax it. He’d be happy to stand here all day staring at Molly. Barn clothes looked just right on her. At his school in Seattle, the tight leggings and paddock boots, oversize sweater and puffy down vest would draw comments of dork and dweeb. But here in Sam’s barn, she looked natural and comfortable. He found himself wondering what it would feel like to hold her slender form close to him. He wondered what her hair smelled like, and if her cheek was as soft as it looked, and if her lips—
Whoa. His thoughts were way out of control. He owed Claudia his loyalty, not this skinny backwater stranger. Claudia was the one who had pulled him out of obscure mediocrity at school. Because Claudia was his girl, he was suddenly someone, suddenly important. People knew his name when he walked down the halls at school.
The trouble was, when Molly Lightning looked up at him with shining eyes, she made it real easy to forget all that stuff.
“She’s a perfect filly,” Molly said. “Just perfect. I knew she would be.”
“How’d you know that?”
“She’s by Calyx, out of Sylvia. The perfect combination.”
“By Calyx. You mean that’s the father?”
“Uh-huh. Or the stud, you could say. Breeder talk, I guess.”
“Whatever.” Awkwardness stole over Cody. “Um, do you want to get a Coke or something?”
She stood. “Sure. We should leave the baby alone, anyway.”
It turned out she was right. Practically the second they left the stall, the foal curled up and fell asleep. They raided the beat-up old refrigerator, filled with shots and wormer and soft drinks. The Border collie thumped her tail, then went back to sleep. They stood in the barn office, sipping from the cans as unease settled over them again.
“So my mom heard you got kicked in the head.” Molly eyed the knitted gray cap Cody had pulled on that morning.
He felt a little swell of pride as he touched his forehead where the edge of the bandage showed. “Yeah. I got in the way of Sylvia’s hoof at the wrong time.”
She regarded him with such admiration that he felt inches taller. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
He liked the way she sipped her Coke from the can. He liked the way her fingernails were cut, short and plain. Claudia painted hers a different color practically every day, and on special occasions she painted tiny designs on each one. He had never seen the point of it, but it was a girl thing, he supposed.
“So how’d your mom hear about the accident?” he asked.
Molly rolled her eyes comically. “My mom hears everything. She teaches English at the high school. I bet Edward Bliss told her.”
“Did he tell her the other stuff?” Cody felt a strange lightness in his chest, as if he’d inhaled cigarette smoke and was holding his breath.
“What other stuff?”
“About… Sam McPhee.”
“What about Sam?”
“That he’s my dad.” He made sure he sounded totally blasé. “My biological dad.” He didn’t look at her, but he felt her stillness, her dawning amazement.
“Wow,” she said at last.
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