Joy and Tiers (9 page)

As she places her hand in mine, I notice it’s trembling slightly, and she is breathing rapidly. I stop and turn her toward me as I say, “Heather, you understand you don’t have to do this for me, right? If you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t push it just for me.”

Heather gives me a small, tight smile. “No, Ty, I’m not doing this for you; I’m doing this for me. It’s important for me to get to the bottom of my fears and overcome them,” she explains with a heavy sigh.

I gather her gently into a hug and say, “I totally understand that, and I’m here for you any way you need me. So, let’s go introduce you to Fannie. She always needs a new friend.”

“Okay, let’s go do this thing before I lose my nerve,” Heather declares in a rush of words.

“That’s my Gidget. Totally fearless. I’m so proud of you,” I praise as I lead her into the barn area.

Fannie nickers and blows her breath out excitedly when she sees me. The noise scares Heather, and she jumps.

“Heather, it’s fine babe. Miss Fannie’s just telling us she is happy we’re here, that’s all.”

“That was her hello? She wasn’t just licking her jowls in anticipation of a good meal?”

“Gidget, human beings are not on a horse’s diet. There is absolutely no danger you’re going to get eaten for her dinner. Trust me, she’ll be far more interested in the sugar cubes in my pocket than your flesh.”

Scrunching her eyes together like a little kid, Heather holds her arms out for me to lead her to the barn. I shrug as I comply, forgetting she is unable to see my response. “Okay, here we go, Gidget, watch your step,” I instruct, as I guide her between the buildings on the way to the barn. As the odor of the hay becomes stronger, her breathing becomes shallow. “Heather, you have to take a deep breath or you’re going to faint. It’s okay, I’ve got you covered. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. Do you trust me?” I ask, meeting her gaze.

Abruptly, Heather looks up at me as if recognizing me for the first time in several minutes. I can see her giving herself a mental shake. 

“I can do this, right?” Heather whispers half to herself as she creeps closer to Fannie. 

At last, Fannie notices the newcomer and swings her head around to greet Heather. Heather practically jumps out of her skin at the sudden motion. When she jumped, Fannie startled. This causes a rather comical chain reaction of jumping and jerking. To stop what could be a huge comedy of errors, I pull a sugar cube out of my pocket and offer it to Fannie. As I suspected, it distracted Fannie right away.

Heather watches in total astonishment as Fannie gently licks the sugar cube off of the palm of my hand.

“Look at that!” Heather exclaims, “She totally loves it. Look at the size of her teeth. Aren’t you afraid she’s going to bite you?”

“Nah,” I reply. “See how I have my fingers flat? That’s so she doesn’t catch my fingers with her teeth. She’s not interested in my fingers she just wants the sugar. She knows if she gets aggressive, I stop giving her sugar; so she stays very gentle. Would you like to try?”

Heather shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Can I watch you again?” she asks as she wipes the sweat off the palm of her hands on the back of her overalls.

“Sure, I can give Fannie a couple more. But, I need to spread the love a little and give some to Jacques and Julia,” I explain.

“Really? I don’t see them anywhere,” Heather remarks.

“That’s because they’re in the field behind the barn,” I respond. “But if they see me handing out sugar cubes, they’ll come strolling back in a hurry.”

“You mean they might come charging toward us?” Heather asks, alarm ringing clear in her voice.

I put my arm around her waist and pulled her close as I clarify “No, I didn’t mean to panic you. I simply meant that they’d come loping into the barn and try to stick their nose into my pocket so they can get my sugar cubes. They probably won’t even notice you exist until all the sugar cubes are gone, and even then they will only notice you to the extent that you can scratch their itchy spots. They are just big spoiled babies. Think overgrown couch potatoes.” I grin as I look down at her.

“If you say so, they’re mighty big to be couch potatoes. When I think of a couch potato, I think a medium-sized Basset hound, not a huge horse,” Heather argues.

“Trust me. They are very low-key. The Humane Society thought maybe they were ridden as ponies in a circus act for kids. They give new meaning to the word mellow,” I respond.

Just then, Fannie nudges Heather in the hip, and I chuckle. “It looks like she thinks it's your turn to give out the sugar cubes.”

Heather’s eyebrows climb to her hairline, as she looks totally shocked. “Do you think she likes me? Do you think I can give her one?” she asks, her eyes wide with wonder.

I try not to chuckle at Heather’s childlike expressions; she looks a lot like the kindergartners that we have come to the ranch on their school field trips. “Sure, knock yourself out,” I encourage as I hand her a couple of sugar cubes. I demonstrate the proper way to hold out her hand palm side up with the hand as flat and compact as possible.

I feel her hand tremble as I drop the sugar cube into the center of her palm. Her breaths are so shallow that her lips are turning blue. “Ty, I’m scared. Will you do it with me? I can’t believe I’m this much of a chicken. You must think I’m nuts,” Heather murmurs under her breath.

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy,” I assure her. “I think you’re scared of something you haven’t encountered before. In my book, that makes you cautious, not crazy. Where I come from, cautious keeps you alive and that’s a good thing. I’d be happy to help you. I’m going to put my hands under yours to keep yours steady, okay? But, you need to take steady breaths.”

“I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Heather states as she places her trembling hands over the top of mine, palm sides up. Fannie’s ears twitch with interest and her nose immediately moves to the center of Heather’s hand.

A look of stark terror crosses Heather’s face as Fannie’s large head comes closer and closer. As soon as the horse’s lips touch her hand, a peal of laughter comes bubbling from Heather, uncontrollably erupting. I give Heather a questioning look.

“I didn’t expect it to tickle. She’s got some stray whiskers on her mouth, and they’re poking me.” I laugh as she continues.

“I guess I was scared for nothing because she was as gentle as a baby kitten. Do you have any more sugar? I’d like to try it again. This time I want to do it by myself,” Heather announces with more confidence.

“Sure thing, Gidget. I knew you’d be a natural. Fannie has taken a shine to you. I think I should be jealous. I bet you guys are going to be best friends. I’m going to be the odd man out. I’m going to have to teach Mindy how to ride so I’ve got someone to hang out with.”

Heather smirks as she says, “Somehow, I don’t think she’s going to have a problem with that. She already told me she has you booked for the entire Christmas break. “

“Oh, she does, does she? It’s nice of her to keep me up-to-date on our social calendar,” I say with a chuckle. “Although, I never regret any time I spend with her. She’s a pistol. She brightens anyone’s day.”

Grinning widely, Heather replies, “I totally agree with you. That little girl is a total work of wonder isn’t she? She has every right to hate the world and everything in it, but she doesn’t. Whenever I am feeling down and grumpy, I invite Mindy over for a play date and my problems seem a little less insurmountable.”

I hand Heather a couple more sugar cubes and ask her, “Are you ready for this? Remember, palm flat, fingers tucked.”

 She turns to Fannie and says, “Hi there, pretty lady. Do you want a treat? I understand you have a penchant for junk food just like me. You and I should get along just fine.” She holds out her hand to allow Fannie to take the sweet treat. Ever so gently, Fannie removes the treat from her hand making soft snuffling noises. Suddenly, Fannie lays her muzzle against Heather’s shoulder and leans in. At first, Heather jumps in surprise. Then, she seems to collect herself and gives a wry chuckle as she says. “Well, you’re welcome. I like you too.”

I can see that there are tears in the corners of Heather’s eyes as she looks up at me And whispers, “Can you believe I just did that? I think she likes me.”

“I think you’ll be riding in no time. But, we’ll tackle that another day. For now, there are some chocolate lava cakes just waiting for us.”

“Hmm, Cowboy— for a guy who doesn’t know me. You guessed pretty darn well,” Heather observes as she walks away with a sassy grin.

Tonight’s the big night. I have to put up or shut up. As I’m driving over to Heather’s house, I’m still not sure how I’m going to approach this. I
really
don’t like pasta. It’s not just something I just made up to irritate her. I think it’s a texture thing for me. Overall, my mom is a pretty good cook. She tried when I was growing up to buck the stereotype of the Midwestern housewife—only cooking meat and potatoes. So, we didn’t always have the typical fare of meatloaf and mashed potatoes or pot roast with peas. Despite that, pasta is the one thing I could never quite stomach. My college buddies thought it was funny that I didn’t actually like Top Ramen noodles. When you’re in college, that’s almost considered sacrilege.

I’m so discombobulated by today’s activities; I wasn’t even sure how to dress. I finally decide to wear my favorite 501 Levi’s and a well-worn denim western wear cowboy shirt. I know I look like a walking stereotype, but I figure if anyone can appreciate that, it’s probably Heather. As she opens her front door, I feel instant relief. Heather looks like something out of a 1950s ad campaign for Good Housekeeping magazine complete with red lipstick, apron and patent leather pumps. She looks like an incredibly sexy housewife. I’d like to kiss off her lipstick, but I doubt she’d appreciate that. So, I settle for handing her the bouquet of Gerber daisies Jeff’s mom Gwendolyn made up for me. They have a brightly colored bow around them that matches Heather’s dress. I wonder if Gwendolyn had some inside information about tonight’s plans.

“Wow! You look different!” Heather exclaims as she opens the door. “I was getting used to the beard. I don’t think I’ve met a guy who changes their look as often as you do,” she comments as she reaches up and runs her hand along my now smooth jaw. I’m taken off guard by the brief contact.

I have to shut my eyes for a moment and focus on the present. I force myself to answer her unspoken question as I explain in a rough voice, “I sometimes help out on the undercover teams when they need someone to play the out-of-town-redneck-meth-head. So, I had to grow a little scruff.”

When her eyes grow round with shock, and she gasps softly, I realize I may have been a bit too forthcoming. Most of my friends think I’m just a step above parking enforcement. I usually just share G-rated stories about rural policing that make my job sound about as dangerous as escorting little old people across the street in Mayberry. There are guys on the force that like to brag about the adrenaline-pumping hazardous parts. I’m not one of those guys. Once you’ve lived through hell and survived to tell the tale, you soon discover that no one cares what it’s like, and the words bring back pictures you would just as soon forget.

Heather takes a deep breath and swallows hard. She reaches up and worries a lock of hair between her fingertips. Finally, she seems to settle on words as she says, “Talk about your mixed blessings. On one hand, you wouldn’t get bored at work, but then there’s that whole getting shot thing to deal with.”

Startled, I laugh out loud. Of all the things I thought she might say, that wasn’t it. “True, it’s a mixed bag,” I concede.

I watch as Heather shudders and then dons an engaging smile. I can almost see her giving herself a mental shake, trying to dispel the graphic images like a sheep dog shaking after a bath. She turns to me with a bright twinkle in her eye. “Ty, these are beautiful. Thank you so much. I’ll just go put these in some water. How was your day?” Heather asks as she takes my coat and hangs it on a hook by her front door.

There is something so strangely normal about that simple domestic act, it almost makes me dizzy. It’s been so long since someone was interested in the details of my life that I wasn’t prepared for the emotional impact of that question.

“Are you okay?” Heather inquires, as she studies the perplexed expression on my face.

 “Yeah, it’s just been a long day,” I reply, trying to cover my bizarre reaction.

Heather motions me over to a big recliner chair in the middle of her living room. I’m a little surprised to see it in a woman’s house, but I try not to let it show. “Would you like something to drink?” she asks as I sit down. “I can get you a beer or I’ve got some soda or some sweet tea.”

“I think I’ll stick to tea because there’s a chance I may get called back in tonight so I really shouldn’t drink,” I answer.

“Okay, tea it is. Something to snack on while we wait?” Heather offers as she turns to go back into the kitchen.

“Sure, I’m at your mercy tonight— I mean—I’m looking forward to whatever you serve me,” I respond with a wink.