Flight: Book Two in the Defining Gravity Series Page 3

  “Aunt Lillian, what type of dog is he? He’s gigantic.”

  “Irish Wolfhound. Well, he’s supposed to be purebred, but I’ve never seen one shed as much as he does. We usually have a pair of them, but his sister died last year, and I didn’t have the heart to replace her so soon. He’s not real friendly to other dogs anyway. He loves people, though. You probably don’t remember this, but you came up and spent the winter here after your…well, after your mother died. You were just tiny, but you spent nearly all your time running around with our last pair of wolfhounds. They’d trot around all day watching over you while you played.”

  I had a sudden dim memory of snow crunching under my boots as I waded up the long driveway, plunging purposely into drifts as high as my waist and my breath pluming up like dragon smoke in front of my face. Two big dogs, my friends, trailed after me like watchful guardians as I plowed through the snowbanks.

  “I think I remember it, a little bit.” I reached out tentatively and touched the wiry fur on Jake’s cheek, right below his ear. Instantly, he groaned and leaned his head into my hand, telling me to scratch that spot right there and not stop.

  I laughed, and Aunt Lillian put a hand on my shoulder. “Now you have a friend for life. He lives for food, ear scratches, and truck rides. Come on, I want to introduce you to Bryce and the girls.”

  I left Jake reluctantly and followed her into the cavernous dining room attached to the kitchen, where a huge wooden table big enough to sit twenty people took up most of the room. There were only three other people at the table tonight, though, all seated at one end.

  The first to look up was a tanned, blond man wearing a green hat with a yellow tractor on it. His face crinkled into a smile when he saw me, and he took off his hat, pushed back his chair, and came to meet me.

  “Astrid, this is Bryce, our farm manager. We couldn’t run this place without him and his family. His boys are wonderful hands with the horses; talented riders and trainers both. The girls help out, too, of course. They live in our original homestead right here on the ranch.”

  Bryce took my good hand in his big, warm, callused one and beamed at me, bright blue eyes full of kindness. “Welcome to Triple Hills, Astrid. These are my daughters, Casey and Olive. Say hello, girls.”

  A sturdy, little girl maybe around eight years old, sat closest to me. She had her long blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She stared at the bandages crossing my nose and cheek, her eyes widening. “What…what happened to your face?”

  “Ollie,” Bryce said warningly, “we talked about this. Astrid had a riding accident.”

  I smiled at her weakly, trying not to be insulted. She was just a child and probably couldn’t help sounding rude. “I go to the doctor in a few days and then the bandages should come off. I guess it looks scary now, though.”

  “Does it hurt?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “Sometimes. I have medication to make it feel better, though.”

  “Oh.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Your horse is a chestnut, right? Mine’s a bay named Salsa. We’re going to California to live with my mom. Do you want to sit beside me?”

  “Hey,” Bryce warned, “don’t pester Astrid on her first day here. She’s probably exhausted.”

  “I’m not pestering,” Olive stated, glaring at her dad. “I’m just telling her about—”

  “And this is my other daughter, Casey,” Bryce interrupted quickly, waving toward a serious looking girl with dark brown hair cut just below her chin. She had on a pair of large, black-rimmed glasses and a bulky, oversized cardigan that made her look like miniature librarian.

  “Hi,” she said shyly, glancing up from the table with a quick smile and looking away again. She had mint green eyes with dark lashes and a constellation of freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. Her nose was strange, though; it looked swollen and a faint greenish bruise curved up over one eye. I wondered if she’d hurt herself on a horse like I had.

  “All right,” my aunt said, clapping her hands together briskly. “Now that we’re all introduced, let’s sit down before dinner gets cold. Astrid, I’m afraid we’re still short a cook right now so you’ll have to make do with my kitchen messes.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice, I’d been secretly eyeing up the huge basket of fried chicken at the head of the table. That was the sort of food that would have never crossed the threshold of our condo back home. There was more fat on each of those drumsticks than I’d normally see in a week. My stomach rumbled, and I sat down beside Olive, waiting impatiently for my aunt to pass the basket down.

  Fried chicken, creamy mashed potatoes dripping with butter and chives, baked beans, creamed corn, and gigantic biscuits. It was like food-lover heaven at that table. While everyone else loaded their plates, I had to literally force myself to take just a small helping of everything. My dad would kill me if I gained any weight. He was big on self-control. He’d even instructed the hospital to make sure I had low-carb meals while I was healing. He’d ship me off to the Windy Shores health spa the second I got home if I tipped the scale in the wrong direction.

  “Dig in, Astrid. We don’t stand on ceremony here,” Aunt Lillian ordered, biting into a crispy drumstick. “Take as much as you like; there’s more than enough to go around.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, practically melting at my first bite of chicken. I cleaned my plate in about five minutes.

  I looked up guiltily, but everyone was too busy eating their own meals to even pay attention to how much I ate. The mashed potato bowl had conveniently ended up just in front of me, so it was easy to just reach out and covertly scoop another spoonful onto my plate. And it wasn’t very far to reach the chicken again, either. I closed my eyes while I ate, savouring the delicious flavours.

  Dad is thousands of miles away, I reasoned, you’ll have plenty of time to diet later.

  There was a horrific, loud buzzing noise and I jumped half out of my skin, looking around shamefully as if someone were about to leap out from behind a potted plant and shout at me about my lack of will-power.

  “Oh, sorry, Astrid.” My aunt laughed. “That’s that darn land-line. Cell service is almost non-existent out here, so I keep it as a back-up. It’s loud as sin, though.”

  She rose and went to a faded yellow box on the wall that had a handle sticking out of it. “Hello,” she answered. “Triple Hills. Who’s this?”

  There was a short pause and then her face lit up. “Marion! Good to hear from you. Yes, she’s here, she’s fine. Yes, terrible cell service. I’ll put her on right now.”

  She held the phone out to me. “It’s for you, Astrid.”

  I slid back my chair and walked slowly toward the phone, wishing it wasn’t attached to the wall so I wouldn’t have to have a conversation with everyone listening to me while they ate.

  “Hi, Marion,” I said as quietly as possible.

  “Sweetheart, you arrived safely. We didn’t hear from you, so we were worried.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pressed the funny receiver to my ear, happy to hear her familiar voice, even if it was so many miles away. “I fell asleep and then it was time for dinner. There’s something weird about the cell reception here.”

  “Well, the main thing is that you’re okay. Are you settling in, darling? How’s Folly?”

  “She’s fine, I think.” As fine as she can be under the circumstances.

  “That’s good. I wish I could have come along to get you settled in, darling. I hate to think of you all by yourself.”

  Suddenly a volley of high-pitched, hysterical barking echoed through the line, making me wince.

  “I’m fine,” I said, raising my voice. “Everyone seems nice.”

  The barking escalated until I could hardly hear a thing.

  “Darn it, Caprice is barking at the float planes landing in the harbour again. Thank goodness, the trainer is coming tomorrow to work with her. Astrid, I wanted to let you know the good news; thanks to your old principal at Sacred Heart we were able to secure you a last-minute spot at a good, private school, after all. Remember, we looked it up online: Redmond. It has an excellent reputation.”

  “Wait, what?” Despite all the noise, I pressed my ear to the receiver, certain I must have misheard her.

  “I know we’d settled on you going to the public school, Astrid. But this is an opportunity we couldn’t easily pass up.”

  I stared at the wall, trying to comprehend what was happening. When I’d agreed to come live here, the three of us had sat down and had the first real family discussion we’d ever had in living memory. It was the very first time I’d ever been asked for my input on anything important. I’d actually felt listened to.

  This had to be a mistake. “Marion,” I said slowly, raising my voice to be heard over Caprice’s yapping, “we looked at that school, but it didn’t have any archery at all. The public school has a team—”

  “Oh, I know, darling,” Marion said, her voice sounding tight with nerves, “but this is a great opportunity and with your arm being hurt—”

  “But it won’t take a whole year to heal!” I interrupted, forgetting to be polite. “The public school has a club and they go to meets regularly. You said that I could go there; we had a whole conversation about this.”

  “I know dear, but your father’s therapist has convinced him that he’s been pushing you much too hard. This whole incident with Folly shook him up and he doesn’t want to make the same mistake again.”

  “No!” I said, desperation kicking in. “That’s not true. Well, with Folly it was true but not with archery. It’s the one thing I’m okay being pushed at. I love it; it’s all I want to do.”

  There was a long silence at the other end of the line, and then Marion sighed. “But maybe there are other things you’d like to do once you’re not being pushed so hard, Astrid; you never had a chance to try other sports.”

  “I hate sports,” I spat. “I love archery and horses. Period.”

  There was another silence. “Astrid, your principal at Sacred Heart spoke to the principal at Redmond and we were able to get a last-minute scholarship for you, free of charge. We can’t afford to turn down a good placement like this, Astrid; who knows if we’ll be able to give you this opportunity again. And it’s only temporary. Once your arm heals and this silly court case is over, you can come home and start archery again. It won’t hurt you to take a break and you can focus on your school work this year instead.”

  “Marion, you have to change his mind,” I said miserably, swallowing hard in my effort not to burst into tears.

  Another volley of hysterical barking crackled down the line and it was another minute before Marion was able to speak again.

  “I’m sorry if this is not what you wanted, Astrid, but we’re trying hard to make the best decisions for you. I’ll talk to your father again and see if there are any other options, but he’s under a lot of stress right now. Now, darling, I do have to go and stop Caprice before the people downstairs complain. Be good and help your aunt; your father sends his love, too. I’ll call you this week with an update. Take care, sweetie.”

  “Bye,” I whispered, hanging up the phone extra carefully. I stood there in shock, not able to process what had just happened. After all that time spent getting to know my dad again, after we’d almost become friends, this felt like the ultimate betrayal. They’d pretended to listen and then literally the minute I was out of earshot, they’d changed everything to suit themselves. Again.

  I took a deep breath and turned around to find everyone at the table eating purposefully, eyes fixed on their plates as if they hadn’t sat there listening to every word I’d said.

  I walked woodenly to my spot and sat down hard.

  “Eat up dear,” my aunt said, her voice warm with sympathy.

  I obediently picked up my fork, my hand shaking as I forced down a lukewarm bite of mashed potato.

  “So, Astrid,” Bryce said after a few minutes, clearing his throat a couple of times to break the growing silence, “tell us about your mare. What are her bloodlines like?”

  “Lines? Oh, she’s a warmblood, I guess” I said, smooshing the edge of my biscuit until it was a pile of crumbs.

  “I know.” Bryce laughed. “But what type of warmblood?”

  I looked up at him blankly, struggling to remember the few details I knew about Folly. “She’s imported from Germany,” I said finally.

  There was another long silence while everyone stared at me with their forks halfway to their mouths. Even Olive looked like I’d said something wrong.

  “You don’t know her bloodlines?” Casey asked incredulously. “Well, who is she registered with? What’s on her paperwork?”

  “I don’t know,” I said abruptly, irritated at the way everyone was looking at me. “I never bothered to look.”

  It came out sounding all wrong, like I was a spoiled brat who didn’t care about my horse when really all I did was worry about Folly practically every waking moment of the day. But it was too late to take the words back.

  “Oh,” Casey said, raising an eyebrow. “Okay.”

  Aunt Lillian cleared her throat. “Astrid is fairly new to horses, Casey. She didn’t grow up with them like you did, so you’ll have to give her some slack. Folly’s a new horse for her, too.”

  “Sure,” Casey said, but she sounded doubtful.

  “Salsa is a Quarter Horse.” Olive turned to me with a knowing expression on her face. “Her great-great-great-great-great grandfather was Poco Bueno, and that means ‘pretty good’ in Spanish. Casey sold her horse and she didn’t even cry; she doesn’t like riding anymore.” She raised her eyebrows dramatically. “All she wants to do is study.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Olive,” Casey said quickly, “of course I like riding; I just don’t want to spend my whole life doing it. And Dinah went to a good home so why would I be upset?”

  “Well, I’m never selling Salsa,” Olive declared, “and mom said we’ll go to lots of shows in California and I’m going to win everything.” She fell silent, dreamily contemplating all her winnings.

  “That’s enough, Ollie,” Bryce said, sending her a pointed look across the table. “Astrid, if you’re interested, you should talk to my wife, Celeste, when she comes to visit next time. She’s crazy about genetics and tracing bloodlines, she could probably tell you your mare’s history back to the Roman Empire. She should be home around Christmas.”

  “Ex-wife,” Casey said quietly, not looking up. “And this isn’t her home anymore. She left, remember?”

  “Yeah, she already has a boyfriend and everything,” Olive added, popping a heavily-buttered biscuit into her mouth.

  Bryce’s smile slipped from his face and he reached up to rub a hand wearily across his eyes, looking sadder, older and very tired.

  Aunt Lillian pushed her chair back so the legs slid sharply over the wooden floor. “Hope you have room for pie, everyone,” she said with forced cheerfulness, moving around the table to pick up our dirty plates. She stacked them together loudly and then set them on the counter with a bang. “It’s almost out of the oven. So, Astrid, when were you planning on starting school?”

  “I’m supposed to start in the middle of October, I guess,” I said unenthusiastically. “The doctor said to wait until I’m off the pain medication.”

  “October? But that’s weeks away. Are you sure it’s wise to wait that long, dear? You’ll fall behind in your school work.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I said, not caring at all at this point. I’d almost been looking forward to school before tonight’s phone call, but now it was just a looming prison sentence. “I was in an accelerated program at home so I’m probably ahead. And I especially don’t want to go while I look like this.”

  “Oh, Astrid, you look fine. Casey here is quite the little scholar, too. Maybe you girls could study together. At least you can ride to town together in the mornings; that will be fun.”

  Casey looked interested in me for the first time. “You’re going to Triple Hills with me? What year? I’m doing some advanced courses, so we might have a few of the same classes together.”

  Tears threatened, but I held them back. “No, my step-mom said it was called Redstone or something like that. A scholarship spot opened there, I guess, so they got me in last minute. All I know is that it doesn’t have archery.”

  My stomach roiled, and I looked down at the table, feeling miserable. It took me a long time to realize that another heavy silence had descended over the table.

  I looked up to find Casey staring at me as if she’d turned to stone, her already pale face draining a ghostly white. The mottled bruises over her nose stood out starkly.

  “You got into Redmond?” she whispered, pressing her hands against the tabletop as if it were the only thing holding her up.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said, sniffling in my effort to keep from crying. “The principal at my old school pulled some strings and got me in. I guess they had an opening.”

  “Oh, of course,” Casey said hollowly. “Of course they did. Why wouldn’t you get a last-minute scholarship?” She stood up slowly, breathing rapidly through her mouth as if she had just finished running a race. She fixed her sharp gaze on me; eyes glittering in the dim light.

  “What’s wrong, Casey?” Olive asked, sounding worried.

  “Olive, leave it. Casey, sit down,” Bryce said, his voice was firm but gentle. He sounded sad. “Be reasonable.”

  “Yes, Casey, sit down and have some pie with us. I’m sure we can talk everything through.” Aunt Lillian stood and laid a sympathetic hand on Casey’s shoulder before moving to the oven to pull out a delicious smelling blueberry pie, still bubbling in its pan.

  Casey dragged her gaze reluctantly from me, glanced grimly at the pie, and slowly sank back into her seat.

  I stared at her in bewilderment, completely clueless as to what was going on.

  Aunt Lillian piled our plates with mouth-watering pie and vanilla ice cream, but I could hardly eat when mine was passed down to me.