Page 38 of The Lost Hours
Lucy glanced over at her father for a moment as if seeking his approval. “A few times, with Malily—until Mama found out and told us to stop. She didn’t think it was . . . safe or something. Sara was too little, so it was just me. Malily doesn’t ride anymore, but she told me what to do and we stayed inside the ring the whole time. But we didn’t use saddles or anything.”
“Oh, so you’ve ridden bareback. That’s a really great way to get a feel for a horse’s different gaits. We’ll be doing it a bit, too—especially at first. Right now I just want to get you comfortable on your mount and with your saddle. Do you need help getting on or do you think you can do it yourself?”
Tucker gave Oreo’s reins to Emily to hold and moved next to Lucy. “I can lift you on the first time if you’d like.”
For a moment, I thought Lucy would say yes. But then she looked back at the pony and I watched as she set her jaw. “No. I want to do it myself.”
I showed her where to put her hands on the pommel and then held the reins while I watched her slip her left boot into the stirrup and hoist herself into the saddle. The pony took a step to the side and for a moment it looked as if she might lose her balance and fall back to the mounting block. Tucker made a move to step forward but I held him back with my hand.
Biting her lip, Lucy held on to the pommel and slid her right leg over the pony so that she was sitting astride.
“Great job,” I said, patting the pony’s flank and then handing the reins to Tucker so I could finish adjusting the stirrups for Lucy. “How does it feel?”
Her smile made me want to look away, reminding me too much of what it felt like to sit astride a horse. “Like I’m twelve feet tall.” She smiled even brighter. “Like I have four legs instead of two.” Her eyes closed, her expression dreamlike. “And I can run faster and jump higher than anybody.”
Something seemed to tighten around my heart.Yes. I know.
Lucy leaned down and gave a tentative pat on the pony’s neck. “What’s his name?”
Tucker rubbed the pony’s nose. “You know, I forgot to ask my friend. But I don’t think it would hurt if you wanted to call him something different for now, if you’d like.”
Lucy nodded, her face solemn again. She turned to me. “Do you remember the name of your first pony?”
“Oh, yes. Her full name was Elizabeth Bennett but I called her Benny for short.” I glanced over at Tucker, who was shaking his head and trying to hide a smile. “I had a babysitter at the time who was obsessed with Jane Austen and her books and she helped me name her.”
Lucy looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’d like to call my pony Benny for now.”
Tucker gave Lucy a tentative pat on her leg before removing his hand. “Then that’s what he’ll be. Just don’t let him know that he’s named after a girl.”
I put the reins in Lucy’s hands. “Keep your thumbs up and your hands low and steady. I’m going to have your father lead you around the ring while I get Sara onto her pony.”
For the first time since meeting her, I saw a rebellious look cross her face. “I don’t need Daddy to hold on. I can do it myself.”
I placed my hands over hers. “I know that, but it’s also important that we start slowly. I want Benny to get used to you and you to get used to Benny. He seems gentle and sweet, but I’d feel better knowing that your father is close by just in case. I promise you’ll be riding by yourself before you know it.”
“But I want to go fast.” She bit her bottom lip again, as if punishing herself for having spoken out loud.
I know,I wanted to say, recalling the solid feel of saddle and horse beneath me, the power and joy of racing the wind, the temporary illusion of invincibility.
Before I could respond, Tucker turned to her. “Miss Earlene is right. You always need to learn to walk before you run.” He wiped dust from Lucy’s boot. “Would you rather Miss Earlene walked you around first instead of me?”
I think we both held our breath as we waited for her answer.
Lucy focused on her hands in her brand-new riding gloves. She shook her head. “No, Daddy. I want you to.”
I saw the relief on Tucker’s face before facing Sara, who had moved so far back that she was now pressed against the fence, as far away from the ponies as possible.
“Are you ready, Sara?”
Avoiding looking at anybody, she vigorously shook her head, her pigtails flying.
Slowly, I approached her and knelt in the dust, oblivious to my pants or my knee. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “It’s okay to be a little scared the first time. Most people are.” I didn’t tell her that I’d been scared, too, because I sensed that she’d know I was lying.
Then I remembered the second and last time my grandmother had to tell me to get back in the saddle—an incident that I’d nearly forgotten if only because I’d barely listened to her at the time. I was about eleven or twelve years old, unbeatable, it seemed, in my quest to be the best. I’d long since grown used to relegating my quiet grandmother to the background, a background she seemed to crave or at least had grown used to. So I’d been surprised that after I’d taken a fall and sprained my wrist, she told me to get back on,just as she’d told me the time I fell off my first pony, Benny. That I could do it despite my grandfather’s doubts and insistence that I withdraw. I’d won first place in that competition, and the trophy was somewhere in the attic of my grandparents’ Savannah house.
I looked Sara in the eye and repeated from memory,“The only way to get beyond something difficult is to put it behind you.” I thought for a moment, trying to phrase it in words she might understand better. “It’s like eating your vegetables so you can have dessert. The sooner you finish the broccoli, the sooner you get to eat your ice cream.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “But I like broccoli.”
