Page 72 of Everything We Give

“Do you remember the café’s soft opening and how I thought it weird that Thomas ended our conversation and left like that?” She snaps her fingers. “He’d seen Lacy in Mexico with Imelda. Then he sees her at my café. He dug around a bit and found out who she really is.”

“I bet he threatened her.”

“Most likely. That’s probably why she shipped James’s painting rather than try meeting up with me again. Anyway, Thomas knew her legal name. That’s how he found her so quickly.”

“I’m surprised he agreed to get it for you.”

“I was, too, but I think he feels guilty about everything he’s done. It’s eating him alive. He looks horrible. I almost feel sorry for the guy.”

“Almost?”

“Like this much.” She holds her index finger and thumb a quarter inch apart. “The number is to a landline. Lacy lives in New Mexico with her granddaughter.”

I pull Aimee into my arms and kiss her. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“I didn’t think twice, and I did it for us. We’re in this together, Collins. Now feed me. I’m hungry.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I link my fingers with hers, our hands swinging as we walk. I look askance at her. “Thomas and Nadia, eh?”

Aimee waves her hand in dismissal. “Don’t get me started. But yeah, she’s working on a project for him. And I got the impression from both of them it’s more than business. She’s on my bad-friend list right now.”

“Then we won’t talk about her.” I kiss her cheek.

Alex seats us at a table under a window and immediately serves us the night’s meal, salted pork shoulder with local greens and chickpeas.

“Are you serious about pulling from this assignment?” Aimee asks, cutting into her pork.

I set down my knife and fork and lean forward, my forearms on the edge of the table. “When Reese was a kid, she had a neighbor who neglected his dogs. He kept them tied up in the front yard.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It traumatized her. She’s taken it to the extreme and doesn’t keep pets because of that. She’s also opposed to animals being penned for whatever reason, but more so when the conditions aren’t ideal.”

“She doesn’t see the Rapa as ideal?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“How many horses are placed inside the arena?”

“Two hundred and for less than two hours. It’s for the safety of the horses, and it’s the fastest way the villagers can attend to them. They get the greatest number wormed in the shortest amount of time without causing too much stress to the animals and more extreme injuries to the handlers. The horses are wild. Given space to move, the vaccinations would never get done. They’d get sick and weak. The herds would eventually die off.

“The way Reese has been talking, I don’t know ...” I push food around my plate. “I’m concerned her bias will come across in the article. I don’t want negative press. That’s not what I signed up for. The villagers are passionate about their herds. The Galician horses are a rarity to them and the Rapa is an astounding event steeped in history and tradition. I want to share that through my photos, and I was hoping whoever wrote the article would express that.

“Reese was at the Rapa this past summer. She had to leave in the middle of it. She couldn’t handle it. I took her up the hill today hoping she’d see they’re free the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.”

“You haven’t seen them since you got here?”

I shake my head and put down my fork, appetite gone. “Tomorrow’s my last chance, and after what happened out there this evening”—I tilt my head toward the lobby—“and on our hike today, I doubt she’ll want to go with me. We came across a dead foal.”

Aimee chews her food, thinking. “We have three more days before we have to be at your dad’s house. You’ve come too far to give up. Text Reese’s Pieces and apologize.”

I laugh at the nickname. Then I laugh at the logic behind her suggestion. “You want me to apologize to her?”

“Yes, because you’re going to be the mature one in this disagreement. You’re also not going to let her, of all people, come between you and your dreams. Come on, Ian,National Geographic! Your photo could be on the cover.” She stabs a chunk of pork, bites it off her fork, and grins.

“Is this your version of a pep talk?”

“It is, because you’re taking us both. I want to see these magnificent Galician horses.”

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