The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,148

had called looking for their sons and daughters, everyone had to come through the house and introduce themselves to us.

As the boys would troop by on their way to gather in the fields, Adam would shake their hands firmly and look them in the eye. Then, with uncharacteristic paternal sternness, he’d announce his rules: “Stay away from the stable and horses. Take care of the girls. And have a good time, boys.”

“Sure, Mr. Hope, it’s cool.” The boys always nodded. Rosie and Gracie would roll their eyes at Adam and pull the boys through the house and out the back door.

On a May Saturday in 1970, Gracie and Rosie prepared for a big party they’d be having out in the pasture. Sarah and Lil left earlier that morning with Pauline for the beach. All afternoon, the older girls bustled around in the kitchen and house, driving firewood, tables, and baskets of food out to the spot where they usually gathered, under one of the large live oaks. Adam cleared an area in the pasture we never used for riding. They would be allowed to have a bonfire there. They’d be far enough away to dim their music and debates, but close enough to run back to the house for the bathroom or any emergency.

I spent the day in the garden, mulching, trying to keep the water in and the weeds out. Adam mended the far corral and worked with a young mare, a pretty, gold thing whose love bite had left a bruise on my behind the week before. By sunset, we were beat. We sat inside at the kitchen table, drinking iced tea and watching each other sweat.

After dinner, Adam and I relaxed on the front porch, greeting a steady stream of arriving kids. The yard filled with cars and vans. It looked like it was going be one of their bigger parties.

Finally, the mosquitoes chased us inside. There was no more iced tea in the refrigerator, so we each poured ourselves a glass from a pitcher of bright red Kool-Aid. Adam finished his quickly and poured himself a second glass. I settled down on the couch with a novel while he gave the stables a final check for the evening.

It was well past ten o’clock, my normal bedtime. I didn’t feel sleepy but the words on the page blurred toward the margins. I set my book aside. I was back in the kitchen, trying to decide if the Kool-Aid tasted like strawberry or cherry—maybe raspberry—when Adam joined me and a batch of kids shuffled through. We rose to greet them. They were a brightly dressed group, all so sweet and beautiful. I felt a great tenderness toward them.

When they left, the salt shaker on the table undulated slowly to some music I couldn’t quite hear. One of the boys had been carrying a mandolin. “That boy must be a very good musician,” I said and pointed to the dancing salt shaker.

Adam gave the table a long, quizzical look. We both sat down again.

“The flowers are beautiful,” he said. I’d cut some zinnias and lantana and put them in a bottle. They danced, too. The bright pink, gold, and orange petals trembled delicately, keeping time with the salt shaker. They were the most beautiful flowers I’d ever seen. Their hairy emerald leaves curled gently, waving in a breeze. I bent and inhaled the simplicity of tart chlorophyll and sunshine. When I opened my eyes, the room glowed.

Adam, fluctuating between the definite and indefinite, watched me. I held my arms out to him in an invitation. He was surprised, but game. I tapped time on his shoulder as we waltzed around the table. He was the most beautiful and exquisite man. So right and so good.

The whole world was right and good and sweet and we danced. The breeze swirled around us, cooling our skin. I smelled horse, marigold, leather, dirt, and sweat on us. I heard the birds outside, an infinity of calls. The stabled horses breathed and shuffled. Farther out in the pasture, more animals and the voices of the kids, a faint echo of chirps. A car rattled down the road. Our home hummed around us. The room spun slowly and glowed as we danced. We kissed and got lost in the dark forest of kissing; I slowly sank to the floor, pulling Adam with me.

A wave of sound washed down the tube of the hall and curled itself into and out of footsteps, then giggles. There