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She contemplates my offer. “I’d really like the help, but you know what I would like more?”
I’m afraid to ask and I don’t trust my voice, so I nod instead.
“For you to stay and enjoy the party.”
13
PATIENCE AND PEPPERMINTS
SASHA
Ain’t Even Done With The Night
by John Cougar Mellencamp
Iwatch from the side of the makeshift dance floor as my grandparents slow dance to aJohn Cougar Mellencampsong. His hand is around her waist, and she follows where he leads with such effortless trust.
When I move, you move.
The bistro lights hung overhead create a wonderful ambiance, and I couldn’t have gotten all of this done without Cash’s help.
The yard and patio are scattered with friends and neighbors, some dancing, others gathered together talking, laughing, and eating. I’ve always known this was a special place, and I never want to take it for granted. This is just another reminder of how hard it is to leave.
“You are so sweet to do this for your grandparents.” Ruth Beckette and her husband, Chaney, stop me as I walk through the yard on my way to the barn to check on the horses.
The Beckettes own a ranch further down the canyon and have been friends with my grandparents for as long as I can remember. Their granddaughter, Sam, is the same age as me, and we would play together when she came to visit her grandparents.
“Fifty years.” I watch my grandparents and then turn back to Ruth and Chaney. “They wouldn’t have done anything for themselves.”
“You’re right about that,” Ruth laughs.
“How is Sam doing in New York?” She went to NYU for college and we fell out of touch, but I hear about her accomplishments from Ruth and Chaney every time they visit.
“She’s working at Washburn Brokerage firm and loves it. Of course, she’s so busy we don’t hear from her as often as we’d like, but we’re hoping she’s able to visit over the holidays this year,” Ruth says proudly.
“I hope she does. I’d love to catch up with her,” I say sincerely.
Not many of my friends stayed in Pacific Palisades. Everyone I was close to either went to college out of state and stayed there after graduation, or they’re busy working downtown L.A. Sometimes I feel like a bit of a misfit. I’m twenty-three and I’m still not finished with school. My grandparents pay for college, but everything else is my responsibility. I had to work in order to pay for anything else I needed. Working at the bar was great money, but I don’t miss the atmosphere.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the party,” I tell them before continuing through the yard and out to the dirt path. I want to check on the horses to make sure they aren’t stressed over all the commotion.
The barn looms in the distance; a soft glow from the light filters out into the pasture from the side windows. My boots kick up dust in my wake. It’s a reminder of how long it’s been since it rained, which gives me an ominous feeling because we are in the middle of wildfire season.
I push the barn door open just enough to fit through. There are six stalls on each side, but only half are occupied at the moment. The horses snort as I walk down the aisle, checking on them. The barn is quiet and only muted notes from the music drift in on the breeze.
Ivan’s nose pushes out over the stall door as I walk past, trying to grab onto the skirt of my dress. Ishoohim away as I head into the storeroom and grab a few pellets. The other horses take them with no problem, but when I get to Ivan’s stall, he sniffs the pellets as if he knows there’s medicine in them and he’s not having it.
His head lifts up and tilts to the side, dismissing what I’m offering.
“Stubborn,” I say and turn my back. I feel his head dip down and nudge my back.
I turn back around. “If I give you a peppermint, will you take your vitamins?” I ask him with a stern voice.
“Does he answer back?” Cash’s voice startles me.
He stands in the doorway with a smirk on his face, devastatingly handsome against the light from the party. I have never met anyone that could flip my stomach like him, making it hard to be in the same space as him and breathe properly, let alone wrap my arms around him while riding on the back of his bike.
I place a hand on my hip. “As a matter of fact, he does.”
