Page 20 of Make Your Shot
I let out a breath. “Yes, I know.” I stop at the side of my car and Willow walks over to hers. “Love you. Let me know when you get to the Hollow,” I say as I throw my bag across into the passenger seat.
“Love you too,” she says as she lifts her suitcase into her trunk.
Willow climbs into her car the same time I enter mine. I unlock my phone, entering in Caleb’s address before putting my car in reverse. Willow gives me a wave and blows a kiss in my direction before pulling out of the driveway first. I back out into the street, sliding the gear shifter into drive and head in the opposite direction of my best friend.
Caleb’s house is only a short drive from my father’s. A little over fifteen minutes. My stomach twists,knotting with anxiety as I get closer to Caleb’s house.I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I babysit all the time. But this feels different.
He gave me the run down and printed out sheets the other day of Tella’s activities, school hours, and typical schedule. She has riding lessons twice a week, but she likes to go as often as possible to feed Sodapop carrots and apples. She attends kindergarten in the mornings only, so she has to be picked up around lunchtime.
There isn’t anything unusual or out of the ordinary in her schedule. I feel prepared, like I know what to expect. I know Tella well enough and have babysat her a few times now. I’ve been in Caleb’s house enough to know the way he likes things.
None of that is what has the anxiety building in the pit of my stomach.
It’s the fact that Caleb Ford is trusting me to be the one to care for his daughter. He’s leaving her in my hands while he’s hundreds of miles away. I’m the one who’s responsible for her—the one he picked to keep her safe and out of harm's way.
And coming from a man who lost the woman he loved and the mother of his child, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to put that level of trust in another person.
It’s a trust I know I can’t break.
CHAPTER NINE
MIA
Tella’s pony blows a breath through his nose, his long neck stretching as he drops his head, tucking his muzzle closer to his chest. Tella rises up and down in the saddle, her heels pressing lower than her stirrups as her pony trots past.
“Good job, Estella!” her riding instructor, Magnolia, calls out from where she’s standing in the center of the arena. “Do you see the way he tucked his head from just a small amount of pressure on the reins?”
She bobs her head, her black velvet helmet moving as she tucks her bent elbows closer to her ribs. Reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, I pull out my phone. I lift it into the air and swipe open my camera, pressing record.
“All right, Estella, sit in your seat and urge him into a canter.”
I watch Tella as she stops posting, tucking her tailbone to sit deeper in her seat.
“Squeeze your legs against his sides and roll yourright wrist while lifting your reins. We want him to pick up the correct lead.”
Tella follows Magnolia’s instruction, the movements of her body fluid, as if she does this everyday. She’s a talented rider for being a little under six years old, but it’s obvious that it’s just natural for her. A smile tugs at my lips as I remember my days like this as a child. Hours upon hours spent at the stables and on the back of a horse.
I wonder if Caleb would mind if I took Tella to see Hank. He carried me through my showing days in middle and high school, but after he started to have issues with his knees, I decided it was time to retire him, so he could grow old in the pastures. He’s twenty now and his health is better than it was, but he’s content and happy in one of the meadows by the lake.
He’s still technically my horse, but Willow convinced her brother to let me keep him at the farm instead of boarding him at the stable I had him at. Noah takes care of him for me now and I visit when I get the chance.
Tella’s pony picks up the correct lead, his inside front leg leading with each stride. Tella holds perfect form, her body rocking with him as they circle around the arena. I keep my phone in front of me, recording and taking pictures of her as she canters past.
“Good, Estella, keep him moving!”
My phone vibrates and Caleb’s name flashes at the top of the screen with a message.
Caleb
How are things?
I slowly turn around, flipping the camera to my front one and take a selfie, smiling at the screen with Tella in the background. I send it to Caleb, turning back around to watch her as she slows Sodapop to a trot then back down to a walk.
Just finishing up her lesson.
Good. How is she doing?
She’s a natural. How long has she been riding?
