“I wonder if Dad’s going to knock the bloke out?” Sebastian mused, dismounting from his bike and pushing it along as he walked beside her.
“It’s not like that, Sebastian. Your dad won’t be knocking out anyone. This is for fun to raise money for Maud and Wobbly Bob’s donkey rescue. Your dad will be in the ring with the person who donated the highest amount to the charity. It’s not a fight but more of a photo op.”
Sebastian patted Plum’s neck, and the sweet Jennie nuzzled the boy with her nose. “We’ll have to give the donkeys back to Maud and Wobbly Bob, won’t we?”
She could hear the sadness in his voice.
“We’ll have them for your birthday party. That will be fun.”
“But then it will end. We don’t get to keep the house or the animals, do we?”
It was as if a stone had dropped in her belly. “I don’t think so. All we can do is be grateful for the time we have,” she replied, trying to infuse optimism into her reply but falling short.
“Can we stop walking, Mibby?”
“Are you tired? Do you need a break?”
“No, I need to put an intention out to the universe. You know, like we do after morning yoga,” the child answered, resting the mountain bike on the ground.
“Okay,” she replied as the boy’s expression grew serious.
Sebastian closed his eyes, raised his arms, and touched his thumb to his index finger on each hand, creating a mudra. “You and me and my dad belong here with the donkeys. I’m making this my almost-seventh-birthday birthday wish slash intention. I’m bundling them together.” Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed like he was mustering up as much psychic energy as he could. “And one more thing, universe. I’d like to keep Mibby. If I had to put my intention wishes in order, I’d say I’d want Mibby, then Plum, then Beefcake. Beefcake’s last because he farts so much, but I still love him like I love Plum and Mibby. What do you think of my intention?” Sebastian asked, opening his eyes.
Libby swallowed hard, not sure if sweeter words had ever been spoken. But how was she supposed to answer? She’d fallen head over heels for the boy. It wasn’t hard. He was a terrific kid. Their connection had been immediate. The car ride over to the park had solidified her feelings for him. From that moment on, Sebastian Cress had occupied a place in her heart, but she didn’t have an answer to the what-came-next part.
“Mibby, what do you think? Do you think the universe heard it?”
She nodded, willing her eyes not to tear up. “I do.”
“And do you think that means we’ll stay together like we are now?” he pressed as his stomach rumbled.
Saved by the belly.
“I think this mountain biking has made you hungry,” she replied instead of answering. “And if I remember correctly, Maud mentioned there would be a hot dog tent in the square tonight.”
At the mention of food, Sebastian’s pensive countenance brightened. “Phoebe’s gonna go right bonkers over that.”
She tapped his nose playfully. “Yep, I think you’re right. It’s a good night for eating hot dogs.” It wasn’t as if she wanted to brush off Sebastian’s earnest intention or evade his question. It was that, despite knowing better, a piece of her heart wanted the same thing.
They continued down the trail quietly, listening to the gentle clop of Plum’s hoofs meeting the path.
“Hey, Mibby?”
“Yeah?”
“Why were my dad and Dougie racing? When they ran past me, my dad looked scary. He was making his boxer lion face, and Dougie was puffing his cheeks like he was giving it all he’s got.”
Another doozy of a question.
How was she supposed to answer this one?
In a quest to find my lost O, your dad and I are in a physical relationship to maintain the quality of my sexual response, and Doug is the final test to see if my O decides to stick around.
Um…there was no way she was dropping that explanation.
“A butterfly,” Sebastian remarked, and again, she was saved from formulating another answer.
Plum, bless her donkey heart, noticed the butterfly and tugged on the lead.
“Let’s follow the butterfly, Plum,” Sebastian suggested, getting back on his bike and pedaling beside the donkey as they picked up speed.
“Easy, girl,” Libby said, patting the Jennie’s neck. They’d gone from a meandering walk to a brisk running pace in a matter of seconds. She clucked her tongue, trying to get the burro’s attention, but Plum had locked in on the insect. A gust of wind thrust the butterfly forward, and the motion elicited an enthusiastic cry from the burro. They picked up more speed, chewing up the trail.
Left, right, left, right.
Libby concentrated on the rapid beat of her feet striking the ground.
Slow down.
“I’ve never seen Plum move so fast,” Sebastian called, pedaling furiously.
Neither had she.
She tugged on the lead, beckoning the donkey to slow down but to no avail. They flew down the trail, passing couples out for an evening walk. Gaining more and more speed by the second, panic flooded her system as they rounded a bend, and the lights from Rickety Rock’s town square came into view. Complete with a makeshift boxing ring for the night’s event, the place was packed with people milling around, securing their donkeys, and coming and going from the many food tents scattered on the periphery of the square when a realization hit.
If she didn’t get her donkey under control, their entrance wouldn’t be pretty. There was a good chance they’d careen into the crowd like a freight train.
She eyed the butterfly. “Fly away, little insect. Go find a nice flower.” She wasn’t one to wish harm on nature’s creatures. Still, she’d be A-OK with a crow swooping in and picking off this renegade butterfly riding the breeze like a fluttering kamikaze paraglider.
“Easy, Plum. Slow down, girl,” she called to the burro, her voice going up an anxious octave.
But the Jennie didn’t stop. Dust built beneath them as the burro team sliced down the path.
“Sebastian, steer clear. I can’t get Plum to stop,” she said. The one saving grace was that the trail had widened, giving ample distance between herself and the child.
“Make way!” Sebastian yelled. “Runaway donkey coming through!”
Truer words had never been spoken.
Libby tightened her grip as the breeze died down, and the butterfly flitted away into a smattering of golden sunflowers. She tugged the lead, but Plum gave no indication of slowing down.
Think, think, think.
She couldn’t let go of the lead and allow Plum to charge into the crowd, but she sure wasn’t doing much to slow her down. She glanced around. There weren’t any trail offshoots they could take to give the donkey more space to run. There was nowhere to go but down into the bustling square.
Stay on your feet, Libby Lamb.
Her pulse raced, and her breathing grew ragged and uneven. She dropped her gaze, focusing on the rocky trail. There was nothing left to do other than hold on and pray people would see them and get out of their way. But what about the children? There was a kids’ tent right next to a hot dog tent. She parted her lips, prepared to start screaming at the top of her lungs when a rolling British accent that sent a tingle down her spine cut through the crunch of hoof and foot meeting rock and gravel.