The Horsewoman(103)
Steve Gorton.
Dad leaned over and whispered, “I might have told him where we’d be, just for my own twisted amusement.”
“Thanks so much,” I whispered back.
Gorton stood there in the middle of the room as if just by showing up he’d immediately turned into our host.
“Well,” he said, “it wasn’t easy, but we all managed to end up with gold medals in the end.”
“We?” Tyler Cullen said to Gus.
Gus lowered his voice for once and said, “A horse’s ass to the end.”
Mom sighed, breaking a silence that was beyond awkward. Gorton stared at us. We all stared back at him, until the smile had completely disappeared from his face.
Finally, after what felt like an hour had passed, he said, “I get it, okay? I get it,” and turned and walked out.
The noise level shot right back up to where it was before, and maybe beyond, before more bottles of wine appeared, as if by magic. Grandmother then stood up one last time, raised her water glass, and announced that she wanted to make one more toast, which was why nobody noticed Daniel and me as we slipped out.
ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE
DANIEL AND I WALKED over the bridge known as Pont des Arts. We held hands. I had already asked if he wanted to talk about the detention center.
“Not tonight,” he said.
He asked if I knew where we were headed.
“Right now,” I asked, “or in general?”
“Either one,” he said.
“Not a clue,” I said.
Then I told him that I knew the damn Louvre was over on this side of the river somewhere. I looked over at him and saw that he was smiling.
“I should have left the party earlier,” he said, smiling, “and walked this particular course myself.”
“You know they call Paris the City of Lights, right?” I said.
“I believe I might have heard that.”
I giggled. I wasn’t drunk. The night air had helped out with that. But I was just light-headed enough. In a good way. Knowing it wasn’t just the wine.
“Well, I didn’t think the lights of Paris were so great when I was coming up on that water jump in a monsoon,” I said.
“You got over it,” Daniel said.
“My horse got over,” I said.
“You two are a good pair,” he said. “You take care of each other.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes, still holding hands. He was as comfortable with it as he’d ever been. Daniel being Daniel.
“You know,” I said finally, “I was thinking that if Dad had gotten you out a few days earlier, you could have been here in time to help train Mom.”
“It is like I told her, she didn’t need me,” he said. “What I really wanted was to make it here in time to watch you.”
“Get a rail,” he said.
“Get another gold medal,” he said.
“Oh,” I said, “that old thing.”
“By the way?” Daniel said. “Gus thinks it’s time for you and Maggie to switch trainers again.”
“He might have mentioned that to me, too,” I said. “But I couldn’t tell if it was the whiskey talking.”
“How do you feel about that?”
Now I smiled. “I’ll have to think about it,” I said. “But you definitely show promise.”
He asked if I was getting tired. I told him Sky was the one who ought to be tired after the way she’d carried me, and not just in Paris. Then he asked what I wanted to do when we got back to Florida. I said it was time for me to get back to school.
“But I had one hell of a semester abroad,” I said, “just over the last two weeks.”
“As I recall,” Daniel said, “your original plan was to do that for your mother.”
I lifted my shoulders and dropped them.
“Merde arrive,” I said. “I learned that one while I was over here.”
“Now you are the one who must translate for me,” he said.
“Shit happens,” I said.
We walked over the Pont Neuf, the old stone bridge that was my favorite by now, the lights of Paris reflecting off the water in a spectacular way this time. We were halfway across when he stopped and kissed me. And if I was going to get kissed like that, I decided pretty quickly, this was the place for it to happen.
“So what do you want to do tomorrow?” Daniel said.
“Ride my horse,” I said.
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About the Authors
James Patterson is the world’s bestselling author. His enduring fictional characters and series include Alex Cross, the Women’s Murder Club, Michael Bennett, Maximum Ride, Middle School, and Ali Cross, along with such acclaimed works of narrative nonfiction as Walk in My Combat Boots, E.R. Nurses, and his autobiography, James Patterson by James Patterson. Bill Clinton (The President Is Missing) and Dolly Parton (Run, Rose, Run) are among his notable literary collaborators. For his prodigious imagination and championship of literacy in America, Patterson was awarded the 2019 National Humanities Medal. The National Book Foundation presented him with the Literarian Award for Outstanding Service to the American Literary Community, and he is also the recipient of an Edgar Award and nine Emmy Awards. He lives in Florida with his family.