Page 61 of Touch the Sky
Her question catches me by surprise, jerking me out of my thoughts.
“Oh, um, honestly, no.”
I stretch my feet out farther in front of me and take a deep breath. I guess after everything she just shared, I owe her a few chapters of my life story in return.
“I did my undergrad in agricultural science, but after Shel was born, I wanted as much time with her as possible, and we had to stay with my parents, of course. I needed the help, so I had to turn a few job offers down. I ended up working some pretty boring administration positions for a few years.”
Jacinthe nods, all her attention locked on me.
“We have this old family friend who’s a farrier, though, and I always thought his job was so cool. I’d go watch him work sometimes when he went out to the stables I learned to ride at. I sat and watched him trim hooves for hours, but it never really clicked that I wanted to do it myself. He opened a farrier school about eight years ago, and one day he asked me to stop by, and I just thought…I could do this, you know? This could change my life.”
I still remember the first time I ever put a shoe on. I was so nervous we had to take breaks because my hands were shaking, but by the time I was walking the horse out with all her feet in perfect order, I knew this was the job for me.
“He ended up hiring me after I finished his program,” I tell Jacinthe, “but I got to the point where I wanted my own thing, and now, here we are.”
Jacinthe grins. “Here we are.”
Everyone else is still lingering over at the tables. I can hear the clinking of dishes as the caterers begin to clean up. I’m sure our solitude will end at any minute, but for now, it’s like the circle of firelight on the ground is still containing us in our own little world.
“People are always acting like I gave up all my dreams for Shel,” I say, “but I never would have ended up becoming a farrier if I didn’t have her. I’d be off in some lab growing mutant corn grains or something, but it turns out, that’s just not me.”
I chuckle at just the thought of myself in a long white coat.
“Now, I get to be outside all day. I get to be with animals. I get to meet great people.”
“You sure do,” Jacinthe says, hitching her thumbs under her collar and doing a little shimmy.
“Exactly,” I say with a laugh. “Maybe it wasn’t my dream all along, but it’s still a dream come true, and I hate when people act like that means nothing. Hell, even my ex-girlfriend kind of thought that way. She’d assume Shel must be this huge inconvenience to me, but that’s never been true. For some people, yeah, having a baby at twenty-two would have been devastating. Nobody should have to go through that if they don’t want to, butIwanted to. I just think sometimes people don’t actually want to believe good things can come out of a tough situation.”
My voice has gotten louder, and I worry I’ve gone too far with the ranting and bringing up my ex, but Jacinthe’s eyes light up like I’m speaking her native language.
Not French, but something deeper. Something beyond words.
“Ouais, that’s it! People say the same thing about me and the farm. Like, this is what I want. I could have had a different life, sure, but why would I want that?”
I clap my hands in agreement. “Exactly!”
We grin at each other from across the fire. I feel giddy, my head rushing with the thrill of being so quickly understood for once.
We’re quiet for a few moments, but it’s not awkward. It’s almost like we’re soaking the past few minutes up, letting the conversation seep into our skin.
Jacinthe reaches to pop a couple buttons of her shirt open, fanning her face as the fire continues to climb higher. My gaze finds its way to the exposed skin of her throat.
There must be a shift in the wind, because the smoke that had previously been drifting straight up into the indigo sky starts to come straight at me.
“Oh, damn,” I say, jumping to my feet while I cough. “I do not want this outfit smelling like smoke.”
I’m pretty sure the blazer is one of those inconvenient items that absolutely must go to the dry cleaners, and there’s no sign of one of those in La Cloche.
The most smoke-free zone is where Jacinthe is sitting, so I end up plopping down on the stump right next to hers.
“Isn’t there something they say about that?” she asks. “Where the smoke blows?”
It takes me a minute to summon up the memory of some childhood campfire, but after concentrating, I can hear my mother’s voice declaring the old saying in my head.
“Smoke follows beauty.”
Jacinthe shifts on her stump, just a fraction of an inch, but it means her body is now slightly curved towards mine.
