Page 61 of The Lookback

He was an expert craftsman of horse tack, hence our name, Saddler. He knew more about horses than anyone I had met. But in this instance, he was dead wrong. When we approached Spooks to saddle her, a nickname that stuck, she darn near impaled herself by leaping through a wooden fence. If she hadn’t been in a breakaway halter, she might have snapped her neck, too.

I knew that Spooks needed us to go slow. Slower than slow, really.

Sometimes I’ve wondered why on earth my dad thought that pushing her was a good idea. All it did was scare her more, causing more damage and trauma at the hands of humans. But as an adult, I’ve done some dumb things too from time to time. As I’m showering, I can’t help wondering whether pushing Helen was one of them.

I’m not sure I’ve seen a human as spooky as her. Amanda was close, but not quite as bad.

The knock at the door when I’ve barely stepped out of the shower sends my heart racing. I did finally pack Tommy off to the Earls’ little motel late last night, but only because Helen’s arrival threw him. I’m not sure why he came out several days early, and I’m not sure why he thought he would be staying with me, but I’m not looking forward to seeing him.

I mean, I am.

But I’m also not.

Even thinking about him makes my old heart race, and I’m sure all my doctors would agree that’s a very bad thing. I don’t have the strongest heart, and even with the rotor-rooter job they did, I’m not sure it’s really ever going to be back up to full speed.

Whoever is banging on my door has gotten impatient.

“Coming,” I holler. Then I jam my feet into some pants, lament the horrible state of my hair in the mirror, and pull my head through a bright purple blouse that makes me look less yellow and white. Then I’m jogging toward the door, where Tommy’s probably the one knocking.

Does he think I’m deaf?

“I said I’m coming!” I swing the door open with a huff, ready to slice him open for just barging over like that.

Only, it’s not Tommy.

“What on earth are you doing here at this hour?”

It’s Amanda, Emery, and Maren, their arms full of muffins and coffee. “We’re coming in,” Amanda says.

And then they do, nearly trampling me in the process. “Don’t even think about trying to kick us out,” Maren says. “I’m missing cheer practice for this.”

“For what?” I ask. “You already missed the fireworks with Helen.” I clamp my mouth shut a little too late.

“What fireworks?” Amanda asks. “I thought things were going alright—she hardly ever barges in and bosses us around now that the retreat’s up and running. I thought she’d moved on to terrorize new people on other projects.”

‘Running’ might be a strong word for our little retreat. According to Helen, it’s barely hobbling along so far, but for a retreat in the literal middle ofnowhere,I think it’s off to a good start. Now if she’d share her rolodex or better yet, start making some calls herself, I’m sure we could fill it up double quick. “Never mind that. She’s a difficult houseguest.” Hopefully they’ll think we got into a fight over wet towels or dirty socks.

Amanda frowns. “You’re just trying to distract us, aren’t you?”

“From what?” I sigh. “You’re here at—” I glance at the clock. “Ten till seven in the morning? School doesn’t even start until eight-thirty, and?—”

“Precisely,” Emery says. “That’s how we convinced Mom to drag us over. Aunt Helen texted Aunt Abby last night and said she ran intoTOMMY, and then Aunt Abby texted Mom. I thought you said he wasn’t coming for a few days.”

“We don’t even know the whole story yet,” Maren practically wails. “And where’s this photo Emery saw?”

“What photo?” I sink onto the end of the sofa in defeat.

Amanda shoves a banana nut muffin in my hand, and then she offers me a coffee. “It’s decaf,” she says.

I stand back up. “Ah, ah, ah. I’m not eating the crappiest muffin and drinking decaf, not if you want the rest of the story.” I shove them back at her.

Amanda begrudgingly takes them.

“Why’d you even get banana nut?”

“The Grill only had one chocolate muffin and two blueberry.” Maren snatches the chocolate one out of the bag and licks the top. “Mine.”

“You are so gross,” Emery says.

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