The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,86
I. Abby set a plate of unappetizing looking white and green mush before me with a brilliant smile.
“It’s a new recipe… with kale,” she announced proudly. “Greens are very good for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, meeting Ethan’s amused eyes and taking a bite defiantly, “Where’s Dutch?”
“He had another fishing charter this morning. Boy, business sure is picking up ever since he got the new boat!”
I avoided looking at Ethan, assuming he’d still be wearing a knowing smile to tease me. I shoveled the rest of the mushy tofu in my mouth and sprang up from the table, putting my plate in the sink and announcing I was off to get dressed.
“Where are you two going today?” asked Abby.
“It’s a surprise,” Ethan told her.
I turned around with a smile, “I’ll go fetch my wetsuit.”
“Nope,” he said, “We’re not going surfing.” He got up and walked to the counter, looking back at Abby, “Do you mind if I take a couple of these?” he gestured to a bowl of small apples on the counter.
“Sure honey,” Abby smiled.
I raced for my room with a lighthearted feeling of suspense, curious as to what he had planned. I brushed my hair and slipped on some jeans, topping them with a pretty green blouse embroidered with white daisies. Ethan stood with a smile as I climbed in the truck, leaning over to plant a kiss on my cheek before he closed the door. He drove us inland, to the park in the woods at the base of the redwood forest.
“Are we going hiking?” I asked, looking down at the flimsy ballet flats on my feet.
“Nope,” he smiled at me, driving further up the country road. He continued on, turning into a gravel driveway and going under an arch with a bunch of horseshoes nailed across the span. A carved wooden sign read, “Skyline Riding Stables”. My stomach dropped, and I looked over at him with wide eyes.
“Horses? No way.”
He grinned at me, pulling into a parking area alongside a big barn and oval arena, “Yes way.”
I looked at the saddled horses standing behind the fence, and suddenly felt like I was a scared seven year old again, “I’m not going,” I announced, tensing up.
He looked surprised, “You’re kidding, right?”
I shook my head no, biting my lip, “I can’t.”
“You’re afraid of horses?” he asked incredulously.
“I had a bad experience when I was little,” I said with a shudder.
He reeled back in his seat, “Lemme get this straight… You go surfing at night… at the point… and you’re afraid of riding horses?”
“I’m not going,” I repeated.
He looked puzzled, “I thought you loved animals.”
“Not big scary ones that can hurt you.”
His brow knit together, and he got out of the car deliberately, coming around to my side and opening the door, holding out his hand, “C’mon, let’s just go see them.”
“I’m not getting on one.”
“Come on,” he said firmly, offering me his hand.
I took it and climbed out of the truck reluctantly. He slipped his arm around my waist and steered me towards the horses in the corral. One was dappled grey with a silvery mane and tail, the other, a rich chestnut brown with a white star on its forehead.
Their heads turned towards us, large brown eyes regarding us with curiosity. Ethan called to them, speaking in a low, soft voice, and I was surprised to see them turn and slowly plod towards us. I squeezed his hand a little tighter and he pulled me right up to the fence where the two horses converged on us, snorting softly through their wide nostrils.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Ethan asked as he dropped my hand and reached out to pat the gray one’s jaw. It flinched a little, but held its ground. He continued crooning soft reassuring words to the big animal, taking an apple from his other hand and passing it through the fence. The horse snuffed at it gently and delicately gripped the fruit with its lips, working it back into its mouth and chomping away happily.
Now the other horse nudged the first one out of the way, its curiosity piqued. Ethan handed me the other apple and instructed me to offer it flat on my palm.
“How do you know it won’t bite my hand off?” I asked, having noticed the size of the first one’s teeth.
“Don’t worry, they’re vegetarian,” he teased me.
“We should have brought them the tofu,” I grumbled, gingerly reaching through the fence with the apple cradled in my palm. The horse looked at me with