The Bequest
Chapter 39—Abigail

My arms are a little shaky and my butt is definitely bruised by the time we make it through the meadow, but it was fun. At least, it's fun in retrospect, now that we're walking and all the cows are past. Steve ambles poor, sweaty Farrah over to

me with a bemused look on his face.

"You'll have to teach it to me later," Steve says.

"I don't think it can be taught," I say. "It's an innate skill. You either have it or you don't."

He tries, but it's awful. "That sounds like the warbling of a seagull in pain." I laugh. "I'm afraid you don't got it, Steve."

"How do you know it can't be taught? I have faith in you."

"You shouldn't. You don't know me at all."

"I feel like I know you pretty well."

"Oh you do?" This should be good. "Why don't you tell me what you know?"

He cocks one eyebrow. "Are you sure you want that? I'm a great judge of people."

"Is that from taking care of so many patients in the ER?"

"Nah, it's because of the horses. They don't lie, and they never dissemble. It makes it easier to see the false things-the lies humans tell themselves."

I hardly think that being around horses makes someone more intuitive with people, but I don't bother arguing.

"Right now, for instance, you're thinking I'm an idiot. How could spending all day with four-hooved creatures possibly give me insight into the human heart?"

How did he do that?

"Alright, alright, my first party trick is done. Pick your jaw back up, and tell me if you really want to hear what I've learned about you."

How can I say no now? I'd look like a coward. But I am a little afraid. "Once, I had a guy draw a caricature of me it was in eighth grade, I think."

"Yeah?"

I nod. "I had these glasses that I thought looked pretty nice. In my defense, my prior pair had been hugely round, made from pink plastic, and the side bars attached down at the bottom, like a librarian." "I would pay good money to see a photo of those."

"I'm pretty sure I've destroyed every photo my mother ever took. I still blame her for being stuck with those she should have stopped me from picking them."

"But the caricature?"

"Right. So, I was delighted when the caricature artist who visited our class chose me to draw as a demonstration. I thought it was quite the honor, but I think he chose me because he knew that it would be easy to make mine funny." I forgot how upsetting it was at the time. "He drew me with huge, face-eating glasses, fluffy, puffy hair, and a lopsided smile full of brackets and wires."

"Your smile is perfectly symmetrical," he says.

"Maybe so, but no one noticed the shape the braces were all they saw. And I realized then that our own image of ourselves is rarely very honest."

"Is that your way of saying you don't want to hear what I think?"

"Maybe, because it was painful. But that caricature helped me to see what others saw, which was helpful too. I got my braces off quickly thereafter, and I begged my mom for contacts. The puffy hair took a little longer to tame, but eventually I got that under control as well."

"And you blended in with the rest of the sheep?"

I bleat.

He laughs.

"I've never been very good at blending in," I say. "But I didn't stand out quite so much."

"Well, if you don't care what I think, that's fine."

Now I have to know. "Just tell me."

"You face things head on, but you always arm yourself to deal with them. When you talked to me about the Forestry Service letter, you weren't crying, and you weren't upset. You'd already checked out the webpage and you were asking my advice as a courtesy."

"It ended up helping," I say. "I think Amanda, surprisingly, came through as well."

"But you're the one who scared poor Ranger Dutton into doing the right thing."

"I suppose."

"I can't speak to what you were like in grade school or high school, but now you're independent, you take action competently and forcefully, and you're fierce."

This isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

"But as with most things, our best traits are also our worst."

There it is. The sting in the tail.

"You can't ask for help-you insist on paying or otherwise dislodging guilt from any favors you receive. It's probably to make sure you're never justly asked to do anything for anyone else. It makes sense-you have to safeguard your time as there's not much to go around. You only acknowledge a weakness or flaw so that you can tighten up your armor, not because you're okay with not being the best at every single thing."

"I know I'm not "

"And you talk more than anyone I've ever met. You have something to say about everything under the sun, most of it well-crafted and sound." That didn't sound mean.

"It makes it almost impossible to know when you're out of your depth. You sound equally expert in all instances."

"I sound like a real pain."

"You parent your children like you approach life. You're everything to them, and you beat yourself up for any misstep, no matter how slight."

I can't help my frown.

"But it makes you an excellent mother, and your children are some of the most balanced, empathetic, and bright that I've ever met."

It's almost harder accepting the compliments than the criticisms. "Well-”

"I'm not quite done."

"No?"

He stops Farrah, and Snoopy stops, too.

"It nearly broke you when your husband died. You clearly loved him a great deal."

His words are a slap in the face.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.com is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! "You're probably not ready to date anyone. I'd be shocked if you were that kind of love is hard to follow."

My hands tighten on the reins.

"But you'll never actually be ready to move on. It's not in your nature. You loved him like you love your children, absolutely and completely."

"Then why-"

As if she can sense his desires, Farrah shuffles forward until he's within a foot of me. "But you need to do it anyway. Someone like you can't hide. Someone like you needs to live fully. You were ready to let me take you out...when you thought I was a loser."

"I don't think horse trainers are losers," I protest.

He grins. "What about drunken horse trainers who barely function?"

He's got me there.

"You thought I was a drunken horse trainer with a rocking bod, but still a mess."

Wait, did he know it was me, that day he was mowing? "You never mentioned that you even saw me."

"There's exactly one navy blue minivan in Manila," Steve says. "But once you found out I was a doctor, and that I wasn't a drunk, you suddenly clammed up. You shut me out, and I think it's because I became higher risk. If I'm a viable option, I'll never get the green light. Dating me is too dangerous."

"It's not "

"I bet there's even someone back home, someone suitable, and part of the reason you came here, to a place you didn't want to be, was to get away from a guy who wanted to take you out." He shrugs. "He would have been a real option too, and that's not okay, not for Abby Brooks. It could wreck her life, and her vision of herself, to love someone else after losing her perfect husband."

"You think you know everything," I say. "But you have no idea."

"Alright, then if I'm wrong, let me take you out."

I kick Snoopy and he takes off, which would have been a lot more impactful if we hadn't just reached the end of the line.

At least I'm not worried about being sore on the long ride back-I'm too busy making sure I'm never alone with Steve again. I wish it wasn't totally obvious what I was doing, but his knowing smile haunts me the whole way home.