Gerta scoffed. “You and your superstitions.”
Angel took her in his arms and kissed her hard and fervently. When he drew back, they both were breathless.
Angel transmitted a surge of confidence in her. In them.
“You can do this,” he told Gerta. “I believe in you. This is your dream. Go for it.”
NINETEEN
August 23, 8:20 p.m.
Freehold Farm, North Carolina
Gusty winds and flood watches called for North Carolina as Tropical Storm Noelle approaches
The candles burned low, several wine bottles sat empty on Grace’s dining room table, and they’d made serious headway into the rich chocolate cake from Caroline’s Cakes. Most all the guests were gathered at the table except for Hannah, who begged off because of work. Boots were at the door, the attire was casual, and dogs were sitting under the table. Elise was shamelessly feeding Birdie bits of her dinner, while nearby Gigi and Bunny sat beside Moira and Charles, eyes round and begging. The faint whimpers of Tut and Maybelle in their crates sounded from the family room.
“Well, I’m off,” Angel said, setting his napkin on the table. He rose from his chair. “I’m doing the barn check.”
“I’ll go with you,” Charles said, pushing back his chair. “I want to check on Whirlwind.”
Gerta’s sigh was audible.
“I can do that for you, sir,” Karl said with alacrity.
“No, no,” Charles said, his hand waving Karl back into his seat. “I want to go.”
“He’s in love,” Grace said with a chuckle.
“True,” Charles acknowledged with a meaningful glance at Grace. He nodded his readiness to leave to Angel.
“Don’t be too long,” Gerta cautioned. “The storm is heading this way.”
“No,” Angel replied, and offered her a knowing smile. “Not too long.”
Angel again borrowed Charles’s rain jacket and they headed out into the night. Conditions remained fair. He could feel the drop in barometric pressure and looked at the sky. Only the faint outline of cumulus clouds was visible in the darkness. The two men stopped to look at the sky.
“What do you think?” Angel asked Charles.
Charles looked in the sky and rocked on his heels. “Midnight. Maybe later.”
They drove in a relaxed silence in Charles’s pickup truck the short distance to the barn. The evening had been saturated with conversation already. Both men enjoyed the stillness of the dark interior of the car. The headlights cut through the darkness and Charles, familiar with each curve of the road, made good time.
The gravel crunched beneath their boots as they walked toward the barn. At the entrance Angel stopped, seeing a black feather lying on the gravel. He bent to pick it up.
“That’s a turkey feather,” Charles said on stepping closer to inspect. “We have a nice breeding pair wandering around here.”
Angel held the feather between his thumb and forefinger. “My mother used to tell me that if you found a black feather, it was a sign that you were about to embark on an exciting adventure.” He looked up at Charles and said in a cheeky manner, “Maybe a scary one, too.”
“I’d say that sounds about right. Love is never easy.”
“You heard?”
Charles chuckled. “You forget who my wife is. Grace knows everything that’s going on. She’s faster than Twitter.” He waited for Angel to finish laughing before asking, “So, you and Gerta . . .”
Angel’s lips eased to a thoughtful smile. The question didn’t surprise him. He’d been getting surreptitious looks all through dinner. “Sí. I can hardly believe it.”
Charles looked at the ground. “I don’t mean to sound like a father, but she is an old friend,” he began. He looked Angel in the eye. “Do you love her? I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Angel didn’t flinch. “I do. It is fast, I know. We both know. But it is real. I would never hurt her.”
“And Hannah?”
Angel heard the challenge in Charles’s voice, and it was fair. She, too, was their friend. “I will always love her. She will always be my friend. We are good.”
“She didn’t come to dinner.”
Angel shook his head, acknowledging this. Her presence was missed by all. “I wish she did. She feels, I think, a bit, how you say . . . awkward? She doesn’t want to talk about it to everyone.”
“I don’t like her feeling excluded. Stuck alone at the lake house.”
“She knows that. She has been talking to Grace. And she’s working. She’s very excited about a new product line. I am happy for her. She needs this. It’s what she wants.”
Charles took a breath and then exhaled. “Okay, then.” He pointed to the feather. “It seems the angels have given you and Gerta their blessing.”
Angel smiled, hearing Charles’s blessing in the comment. He was a good man. A good friend to have in your corner when the chips were down.
The two men went their separate ways. Charles made a beeline for the other, smaller barn of stalls where Whirlwind was kept. Angel stepped into the main barn, rich with the smells of warm animals, hay, shavings, and manure. The horses nickered at hearing him enter, expecting treats. He first greeted Butterhead, his gaze sweeping over her, assessing. He pulled a carrot from his pocket and enjoyed her muzzle against his palm.
He completed the list of night chores, checking each of the horses. When he was finished, he walked out to the stalls across from the barn. The light was on in the stall and he saw Charles’s gray head bobbing as he brushed the horse’s coat. The sight gave him pause. Charles’s energy and obvious joy was like watching a boy at Christmas receiving his most eagerly awaited gift. Angel smiled and approached them. Whirlwind saw him first and his head came up, his ears forward.
“Mr. Charles,” he called out. “How’s your new horse?”
Charles stopped brushing and sauntered closer to the gate. His grin stretched from ear to ear. “I can’t believe he’s mine. One piece of paper signed and I’m a made man.”
“I see you’ve also got a new cat.” Angel pointed to the exceptionally large orange tabby licking himself on the fresh hay.
“Him.” Charles laughed and nodded. “Yep. He seems to like it here and Whirlwind seems to like him. Karl named him Big Orange.”
“That’s a good name for him,” Angel said. “In my country, cats in the barn are a good thing. Except black cats,” he hurried to add. “Cats keep the rodents out and also keep the horses calm.”
Charles reached up to stroke Whirlwind’s neck. The big horse turned his head to gently nuzzle Charles’s shoulder.
“He really likes you.”
Charles replied modestly, “So it seems.”
“Have you gotten on him yet?”
“No.” Charles shook his head and took a step back.
“You should. You don’t buy a car before you take it for a ride.”
“I will . . . When I’m ready.”
Gerta had told Angel that Charles had stopped riding. Angel thought it was merely until he was healed from his accident. Gerta had confided in him that he might have PTSD about the fall. Grace had told her Charles had not even gotten back up on a horse. For horse people, this was the line in the sand. After a fall, one either got back up on the horse, or never rode again.