Moonlight Mile (11 page)

Still, she felt a little uneasy as she hurried back to the barn. Breezy knew she usually brought treats when she visited him. If he'd been in a stall nearby, wouldn't he have heard her voice and nickered to her as usual?

Trying not to think about that, she ducked down a side aisle as a shortcut back to the area of the barn where Breezy lived. Halfway down, she heard a familiar nicker and stopped stock-still.

“Breezy?” she blurted out, spinning around.

Sure enough, her pony's familiar spotted face was poking out over the half door of one of the stalls. Relief flooded through Nina, followed by confusion. What was Breezy doing way over here? This stall was nowhere near his own. Why would a stall cleaner walk him halfway across the barn when there were plenty of stalls closer, never mind several sets of crossties?

“Weird,” she muttered. “But never mind. You're safe, and that's all that matters.”

She rubbed the pony's face, then raced to the tack room for a lead rope. Soon she was leading Breezy out of the unfamiliar stall.

As he came out into the aisle, she glanced back at him—and stopped again, panic flooding through her at the sight of a huge, reddish smudge covering half of Breezy's side.

“Oh no—are you bleeding again?” she cried, flashing back to the morning she'd discovered that oozing cut on his nose. Dropping the lead rope, she darted to his side and searched for a cut or scrape.

But there was no sign of injury. And when Nina touched the smudge, she realized it wasn't even blood—it was more pinkish than the brownish-red of old blood or the bright red of fresh.

“Weird,” she murmured again. “What did you get into, boy?”

She glanced into the stall, but there was nothing out of the ordinary in there. As she picked up the lead rope
again, one of the other riding instructors appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Hey, Hector,” Nina called. “Do you know how Breezy got over here?”

Hector came toward her, looking surprised. “Breezy was over here?” he said. “How'd that happen?”

“That's what I was asking you.” Nina shrugged. “I just got here and found him in this stall.”

The instructor scratched his head. “Beats me. He was in his normal stall when I helped the guys muck out a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.” Nina swallowed hard as she glanced at her pony and the mysterious reddish mark on his side.

This is really weird,
she thought.
But that doesn't mean it's Serena's work. Does it?

CHAPTER

11

“AFTER YOU, LADIES.” NINA'S FATHER
held
open the art gallery's glass door, gesturing for Nina and Delphine to go in.

Nina smiled briefly, but her mind wasn't really on her mom's art show. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with Breezy that morning. She'd gone around and asked every barn worker she could find, but nobody knew any more than Hector did about how the pony had ended up in the wrong part of the barn—or about what that strange pinkish mark on his side might be.

In the end, she'd barely had time to brush most of the
mark off his coat before it was time to go, though she'd promised the pony he would get his grazing time after her ride with Jordan later. She'd had to sprint home to have enough time to change clothes and then walk over to the gallery with her father and Delphine.

Her mother hurried to meet them as they entered. She'd been at the gallery since early that morning making sure everything was perfect for the grand opening. She looked perfect herself in a silk dress and a pair of vintage sandals Nina had given her for her last birthday.

“You're here!” she exclaimed. “I was starting to think you'd forgotten.”

“Never!” Nina's father leaned down and kissed his wife. “We'd never miss your first big solo show.”

Nina was glancing around the gallery. She'd seen most of the pieces before, but they looked different here somehow—bigger and more important. “Everything looks great, Mom,” she said. “Wait, I almost forgot to ask which piece you picked to replace the one that got wrecked.” Then her gaze fell on a piece she didn't recognize—a sculpture of a girl and a pony—and she gasped.

Her mother followed her gaze and smiled. “I was ­hoping you'd be so busy with your show and everything that you'd forget,” she said. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Nina stepped closer. The sculpture was modernist and stylized, like all her mother's work. But Nina had no ­trouble recognizing herself and Breezy. She was riding him bareback beneath a huge full moon.

“Wow,” she breathed, stepping around and studying it from all angles. “This is amazing!”

Her mother smiled. “I call it
Moonlight Mile
,” she said. “I can't believe I forgot about it for so long.”

“We found it packed away in the crawl space,” Nina's father put in. “When your mother hides a gift, she doesn't mess around.”

Nina just nodded, still mesmerized by the sculpture. It was beautiful, but it was more than that—it really captured her bond with Breezy.

And that's what matters,
she thought.
My relationship with Breezy. Not show ribbons, or silly superstitions about ghosts and curses. None of that is real—
this
is what's real.

Then she flashed back to the weird pinkish mark on her
pony's coat that morning. That had been real too. Maybe she could write off the rest of the stuff that had happened to bad luck or an overactive imagination. Or psyching herself out, like Brooke seemed to think. But how had Breezy ended up in a distant stall with who knew what smudged all over him?

As she pondered that, she took a step backward to get a better look at the whole sculpture.

“Nina, look out!” her father exclaimed. He grabbed her arm and yanked her forward again just as Nina felt her arm hit something.

“Mon Dieu!”
Delphine leaped over and steadied the sculpture that Nina had almost knocked over.

“Sorry!” Nina blurted out.

Her mother smiled and stepped over to adjust the sculpture. “No harm done. Besides, it's bronze—the floor's more likely to break than the piece.”

Nina smiled weakly, glancing down at the gallery's pristine wooden floorboards. Her mother was probably right, but still . . .

The gallery owner hurried over and dragged Nina's
mother off to meet some important art critic who had just arrived. Nina barely saw her go. She was staring at the sculpture she'd almost crashed into, still shaking slightly from the close call.

Then she felt her father's hand on her shoulder. “You okay, Boo?” he asked. “You look pensive.”

Nina forced a smile. “I'm fine.”

“No, seriously.” He peered into her face. “You haven't been yourself all day. All week, now that I think about it.”

“It's nothing.” Nina tried to smile, but it felt shaky. “Nothing real, anyway,” she amended.

Her father cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

Nina glanced around. Delphine had wandered off to look at some of the other sculptures. Nobody else was nearby, though the gallery was filling up. Nina glanced at the
Moonlight Mile
sculpture again.

“It's just . . .” She bit her lip, not wanting her father to think she was going nuts.

But he won't think that,
she reminded herself.
He wants to help me.

“Boo?” he prompted, his expression so loving that it melted the last of Nina's hesitation.

“Okay,” she said. “But you can't tell me I'm crazy, okay? See, it all started when I decided to dress up as Serena for the show. . . .”

The whole story poured out of her. Her father listened quietly, his expression impossible to read. When Nina had finished, he patted her arm.

“Meet me at the entrance,” he said. “I'm just going to tell your mother we'll be back in a while.”

“Where are we going?” Nina asked.

He smiled. “You'll see.” Then he hurried off toward his wife.

A few minutes later, Nina and her father were back on their home block. He led the way toward his car, which was parked between a van and a fire hydrant.

“Climb in,” he said, unlocking the doors.

Nina did as he said. “Are you going to tell me where we're going now?” she asked. “You're not planning to drop me off at the loony bin, are you?”

He chuckled. “Nope. You'll see.”

Nina fidgeted in her seat as they set off. She watched the familiar city streets slide by outside the window, trying to figure out where they were going.

When they passed the Superdome and then the edge of the French Quarter, she started to have an inkling. She nodded as her father pulled into a parking spot just off Basin Street.

“The cemetery,” she guessed as they climbed out of the car. “St. Louis? We're going there?”

“Come with me.” Her father smiled and strode off.

Inside the cemetery, her father paused, glancing around. Then he nodded and started walking.

Nina followed. Finally they stopped in front of a modest crypt.

“Here we are,” her father said, waving an arm.

Nina stepped closer, leaning down for a better look at the stone. There was no name on it, just an etched image. It was faded almost smooth with time, but after a moment Nina figured out what it was.

“A horse?” she said. “I think it's a horse.”

“It is,” her father confirmed.

“That's cool,” Nina said. “But why . . .”

“This is Serena's grave,” her father said. “Your uncle Oscar did some research when he was in school and figured it out.”

“Oh!” Nina shook her head. “No wonder Jordan and I couldn't find it. It doesn't even have her name on it.”

Her father nodded. “Oscar's research also revealed that Serena was known in her time as an outstanding horsewoman,” he said. “Apparently she had a special rapport with horses and rode better than any man in New Orleans.” He winked. “Remind you of anyone?”

Nina smiled. “Wow. I guess loving horses runs in the family.”

“Uh-huh.” Her father glanced at the etching. “Serena had some good things in her life. But like everyone, she had some bad luck too.”

“Her fiancé's death,” Nina said.

“Yes. It's too bad she let that one piece of bad luck ruin her whole life.” Her father shot Nina a sidelong glance. “She focused so much on what she'd lost that she forgot
to appreciate everything else she had, which could have helped her through the tragedy.”

Nina nodded, pretty sure she knew what her father was trying to tell her. Serena had gotten so fixated on what had gone wrong that it had taken her over and made her miserable. Was Nina doing the same thing by worrying too much about her recent run of bad luck?

Nothing that's happened to me is half as bad as what happened to Serena,
she thought.
Still, maybe I am losing perspective a little. At least Brooke seems to think so, and now Dad, too
.

“Can I have a minute alone with Serena?” she asked quietly.

Her father nodded. “I'll meet you by the entrance whenever you're ready.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, then hurried off.

Nina crouched in front of the grave, staring at the horse etching. “Serena,” she said. “It's me—your great-great-great-great-niece. I love horses too.”

She paused, feeling a little foolish for talking to a
woman who'd been dead for well over a hundred years. But she shrugged and continued.

“These days, there aren't as many horses around New Orleans as there were in your time,” she said. “But I'm really lucky, because I have a super-special Chincoteague pony. His name is Breezy, and he's about as perfect as a pony can be.” Remembering some of the issues they'd had at the show, she added, “At least he is when I remember to ride my best. And sometimes even when I don't.” She laughed. “Anyway, it's because of Breezy that I met some awesome friends online. . . .”

She went on to tell Serena about the Pony Post. After that she talked a little about the horse show. She was just describing her mother's
Moonlight Mile
sculpture when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Glancing that way, she realized a tour group was looking at a large mausoleum nearby. Nina blushed, wondering if they were close enough to have heard her talking to the gravestone.

Who cares if they did?
she thought.
This is important.

“Anyway,” she told Serena softly, “I'm really sorry if I
insulted you by dressing up as you for the costume class. But it wasn't meant like that. Especially now that I know we had a love of horses in common, you know?”

She paused, as if expecting Serena to answer. Then she laughed and patted the etched stone.

“Thanks for the chat,” she said. “I'd better go.”

She stood up, ignoring a little kid from the tour group who was staring at her. Already feeling better, she hurried to meet her father.