Never Let You Go (9 page)

Megan watched her friend pick up a bottle of perfume from the bedside table and squirt her neck. Megan cleared her throat. “Maybe you should wait a little. That’s a big step. I don’t know if he’s totally ready.”
Please, Anna, don’t get hurt. Please be careful.
No matter who it was, she couldn’t stand watching Anna make herself so vulnerable, like she always did with guys, and then have her heart broken. Just like Mike, Jordan
didn’t
love Anna. Megan knew that. She could just sense it, and she had to protect Anna—
from
Anna, really, not from Jordan.
And if it doesn’t work out, Megan, are you saying you’ll just forget Jordan ever existed? You won’t try to grab him for yourself? Why, that’s very selfless of you.
No. No. That wasn’t even an option. Not after last summer.

Anna scowled. “I don’t even know why I asked you. You don’t know anything about guys.” She patted her hair, eyeing Megan in the mirror.

Megan said nothing.

“Okay, wish me luck.” Anna swept out the door, leaving the scent of lemon in her wake.

“Luck,” Megan whispered to the empty room.

The cabin was quiet after Anna left, despite the chorus of cicadas and peepers that started up outside. Moths hurled themselves frantically against the screen door like kamikaze pilots. Megan stripped down to her sports bra and tried to read a book her mother had given her before she left,
The Moon and Sixpence
by W. Somerset Maugham. The story was pretty good, but her wool blanket seemed to be made of a thousand prickles. She squirmed and scratched until she could tell she was getting all splotchy.

Finally, Megan heaved herself upright and grabbed her watch. It was only eleven. Another hour to go until she was due for her shift. She wondered what Anna and Jordan were doing.
No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter! Remember your resolution. Stay out of Anna’s business. Rosie. Think about Rosie.
She wondered how the mare was feeling. Maybe the foal would be born before her shift. No, Thomas had said she probably wouldn’t go before morning, Megan comforted herself. He would know, after all.

Soothed by this thought, she dug a long-sleeved T-shirt from her trunk and pulled it on, then lay back on the bed again and tried to concentrate on Maugham. The words were blurring in front of her eyes, though, and massive yawns kept splitting her jaws.

Megan didn’t realize that she’d fallen asleep until she felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see a large, bristly face bending over her. “Oh!” she shrieked, and tried to push herself upright before she realized it was Robert.

“Hey, sorry! You were sleeping.” He grinned.

Megan ran her tongue around her cottony mouth, trying to wake up. “Yeah, I know.” She swiped at some dried drool at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll meet you on the porch in a few minutes, okay?” she said deliberately.

Robert looked confused for a second, then his face cleared. “Oh, yeah. Okay.” He lumbered outside, and Megan heard the creak of the steps as he sat down.

Retreating into a corner away from the door, she took off her T-shirt and pulled a gray hooded sweatshirt over her head. She stuffed her flashlight into her back pocket and, after a moment’s hesitation, swiped on a little rosy lip gloss. Who it was for, she wasn’t sure. Rosie, maybe?

Robert stood up as she came out onto the porch. “Ready?”

She nodded, and they started down the path toward the chicken coop. There was no moon, so the only light came from a mess of stars flung across the sky. The horizon held none of the orangey glow Megan remembered from the city. Here, the blackness was total.

Robert insisted on walking right beside her, forcing Megan partially into the weeds at the side of the path. At the farmhouse, the porch light burned brightly, but the upstairs rooms were dark. They skirted the house, and as they came out onto the drive Robert cleared his throat. It sounded like gravel rattling in a metal trash can. “Um, you know Anna?”

Megan smothered a giggle. “Yeah, I think I know her.” She sensed what was coming next.

“So . . . is she
officially
with Jordan?” He was concentrating on the path.

Megan tried to speak gently. “Well, not officially . . .”

They were passing the fence line of the pasture. “Do you think she’d, you know, go for me?” Robert’s voice was hopeful.

“Well . . . I think she’s pretty into Jordan right now.”

“Listen,” Robert said with a touch of urgency, “you’re her best friend. Will you put in a good word for me?”

“Sure,” Megan said, giving up.

“Thanks.”

The two approached the barn doors, and Megan was about to slide one open when Robert slapped his hand to his forehead.

“I forgot my water bottle. Hey, do you care if I run back real fast?”

Megan shrugged. “Fine with me.”

Robert pulled his flashlight from his pocket and disappeared around the side of the barn toward the guys’ bunk. Megan rolled the heavy door open just enough to slip through.

Most of the barn was in shadow, but a few of the lights were switched on down by the horse stalls. “Hey,” Megan called softly. “How’s Rosie?”

No one was visible, though she could hear Rosie shifting in her stall. Thomas had told them that Darryl and the donkey would stay outside for the night, so that they wouldn’t disturb Rosie by banging around or whinnying.

Megan looked around. There were a couple of chairs pulled up by the stalls, with a paperback book lying facedown on one.
Megan walked over and looked at it.
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.
An open can of root beer sat beside it.

Rosie stood calmly in her stall, her head drooping. Megan didn’t think she looked any different from the way she had that morning.

“How do you feel, girl?” she asked the mare, who half closed her eyes.
Pretty good
, Megan guessed, since she was basically falling asleep.

There was a rustle behind her, followed by a giggle. Megan turned. The door to one of the empty stalls was ajar.
Damn it. Damn it!
She paused uncertainly in the middle of the floor until another giggle floated out. Okay, she wasn’t going to stand here and
listen
to them make out. She had a shred more self-respect than that. Steeling herself, she walked over to the stall.

Jordan and Anna lay sprawled on a pile of straw, Anna half-draped on top of Jordan, her shirt on the ground beside her. She was giggling, trying to pin Jordan as he held her shoulders away from him. “I’m too strong for you, Jordan,” Anna said, laughing. “I’ve got you. . . .”

“Hey, whoa there, Anna—” he said, but she wasn’t listening. Instead, she reached down, trying to kiss him. Megan could see Anna’s hands go to his belt buckle before Jordan finally managed to lift her off of him.

Anna sat back on her heels, blowing her hair out of her face, still laughing. Just then, she caught sight of Megan standing by the door.

“Oops!” She grabbed her shirt and held it up to her chest in a
gesture of modesty that Megan could see she didn’t mean one bit. Jordan’s face flushed scarlet, and he got hastily to his feet, brushing off his clothes. He looked horribly embarrassed.

“Hi,” he mumbled, and strode past Megan without looking at her.

Anna couldn’t seem to stop giggling as she fumbled for her sandals, which she’d apparently kicked off, and her sweatshirt.

“I am so crazy about him!” she whispered as Megan went over to help her up. Anna’s voice held a tinge of mania. “He’s so, so sweet. Listen, listen to my plan—”

“Come on, Anna, shhh. He’ll hear you. Just put your clothes back on. Robert’s going to be here any second.” She picked some straw out of Anna’s hair. “Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast?”

Anna sighed through her nose and pulled her shirt over her head. “No, silly! Everything is perfect, okay? Don’t worry about me.” She swept from the stall and Megan followed her, wishing she didn’t have to see Jordan. She wanted to erase the whole stall scene from her mind, but she kept seeing their bodies together on the floor.

But wait a minute, Megan,
a little voice asked in the back of her head,
wasn’t he trying to push her away?
But he was in the stall with her!
Still
, the little voice argued,
you don’t know what she told him to get him in there.
Either way, did it matter? No. All that mattered was keeping Anna from making a fool out of herself.

More lights turned on down by Rosie’s stall. Robert and Jordan peered over the door, excited.

“Hey, something’s happening!” Jordan pointed.

Rosie had moved to the middle of the stall, and the hair on her neck and shoulders was now dark with sweat. She was champing her jaws and occasionally stomping her feet. Her eyes were wide and her nostrils dilated. Every muscle in her body was tense.

“Oh, wow!” Megan grabbed Anna’s hand and felt her friend squeeze back. All the weirdness from before evaporated. It was like they were nine years old again, about to go on the biggest roller coaster at the amusement park.

“Someone’d better go get Thomas,” Jordan said.

“I will.” Megan grabbed her flashlight and ran from the barn, her feet pounding on the path’s hard-packed dirt. She prayed Rosie wouldn’t have the baby before she got back. How fast were baby horses born?

She banged open the door to the farmhouse harder than she meant to, wincing at the noise, and ran up the stairs, trying not to thump too loudly.

At the top of the stairs, Megan was confronted with three closed doors—and realized she didn’t know which one was Thomas and Linda’s room. She knocked softly on the nearest one, then opened it and saw a sink and a tub. Not that one. She cracked the door of the next room and made out Linda’s wheelchair on one side of the bed. She could see the outline of Thomas’s beard on one of the pillows. The sound of deep breathing filled the room.

Megan crept over to the bedside. Thomas made a little whistling noise every time he breathed, like a teakettle about to boil. Gently, Megan shook his shoulder.

“Thomas,” she whispered.

Nothing. She shook a little harder.

“Thomas.”

“Hmm-what?” He stared at her a moment, then swung his legs over the bed. Linda mumbled something and rolled over. Thomas quickly pulled a pair of overalls over his red and blue striped pajamas. “How far along is she?” he muttered as they crept from the room.

“I don’t know,” Megan said. “She’s breathing hard and really sweaty.”

“Standing up or lying down?”

“Standing—or at least, she was standing when I left.”

Thomas opened the front door. “Okay. Good thing you got me so quickly.”

They hurried down the path and back into the barn. Someone had switched on all the lights, and the brightness was dazzling after the darkness of the night sky. Robert and Jordan were pacing up and down like expectant fathers, while Anna stood at the stall door.

“Uncle Thomas, she just lay down,” she called. “Hurry!”

Thomas opened Rosie’s door. The mare was stretched flat on her side on the clean shavings. The skin on her belly had taken on a strange wrinkled appearance.

Thomas knelt by the mare’s side, and she let out a deep, long groan. Megan sucked in her breath and groped for Anna’s hand again.

“Is she dying?” she whispered. “She sounds so awful.”

“I don’t think so.” Anna’s eyes were reassuringly steady. “Look—Uncle Thomas isn’t worried.”

Thomas calmly stroked the horse’s neck and murmured to her. Rosie went into a prolonged strain, her mouth wide open.

Megan’s heart hammered and she squeezed Anna’s hand as hard as she could. It was so intense, she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The barn was silent except for Rosie’s panting. The mare groaned, louder this time, and strained again.

“Look!” Jordan pointed. A tiny pair of hooves were visible under the horse’s tail.

“Oh my God!” Megan squeaked, excited and grossed out at the same time. She and Anna grabbed each other, hiding their faces on each other’s shoulders. Megan peeked out of one eye and through her lashes as a glistening dark head and shoulders emerged, draped in a whitish membrane. The rest of the foal followed in a rush of fluid.

And then, just like that, Rosie raised her head and heaved herself over onto her chest. The foal was already snorting and struggling, trying to figure out his legs.

Thomas pulled the foal up to Rosie’s head. She immediately began nuzzling and licking it from head to tail.

The five of them watched, riveted, until Thomas rose stiffly and brushed the shavings from his knees.

“A little colt,” he said with a huge grin. They were all grinning actually, standing there in a line in front of the stall as if
they’d just watched the Kentucky Derby. The foal was drying off, his thick newborn fur fluffing out. He was chestnut colored, like Rosie, with a wide white stripe down his nose.

As they watched, Rosie stood up, then reached down and nudged the foal with her nose. He staggered to his knees and then, with a visible effort, climbed to his feet.

“All right!” Jordan said. Megan felt like there should be a blast of trumpets. Her throat swelled and she felt tears prickle her eyes. She did her best to blink them away. No one else was crying, but she did see Jordan give her a quick sideways glance. She smiled at him briefly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her shiny eyes.