“That sounds very interesting. I’d love to learn more about what you do there.” My instant mortification sets in when I realize how I just blurted that out without even thinking. I don’t know the first thing about rehabilitating a horse. “So, what was wrong with the horse I was petting?”
“That was Frankie,” Ace replies. “Frankie is one of our rescue horses. He was in a very abusive environment—physical abuse, neglect, and starvation. When we first got him, he didn’t trust any human. Not that I blame him. But it took a long time with just him and me in the round pen, with hay and sweet feed in my hands, before I could even get close to him.
“So, you can imagine my surprise when I walked through the pasture to get him today, fully expecting to spend half an hour chasing his ass around, but instead, I find you petting him. By the way, how’d you get so close to him? What’d you bribe him with?”
“He came up to me while I was sitting on that boulder by the water. I didn’t offer him anything.”
This really does catch Ace’s attention. Again, he puts his fork down, but this time, he leans back in his chair. His wrist is propped on the table by his plate and the other hand is on his hip. His eyes are wide and his lips slightly parted. “He came up to you? You didn’t call him or anything?”
“Actually, he surprised me because I didn’t hear him walk up behind me. He put his muzzle on my arm. I jumped at first but then I stood and started petting him.”
Ace’s bottom jaw drops to his lap. He’s still looking at me disbelievingly, so I keep explaining.
“When I started walking away, he followed me and stayed right with me. I thought he just wanted more attention, so I stopped walking, put my stuff down, and told him I’d pet him as long as he’d let me.” I chuckle and shake my head, remembering how I’d spoken to the horse. But in my defense, he seemed to understand me. “That’s when you walked up.”
“Why’d you laugh just now?” Ace asks as he leans toward me and puts both elbows on the table.
“Oh, I was just thinking about how silly you must think it is that I talked to the horse.” I shrug one shoulder dismissively but turn my face away from his penetrating green eyes.
Calloused fingers, rough from years of hard work, touch my chin tenderly and turn my face back to his. “It’s not silly at all, Layne. It’s just the opposite, actually. It makes perfect sense, and just that little bit of information you shared helps me tremendously.”
“Then I’m glad my trespassing on your property turned out to be helpful.” I smile teasingly. “Maybe I’ll vandalize your barn tomorrow and give you another revelation.”
My poor attempt at a joke at least earns a real laugh from Ace. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you just come by the barn one day in the next couple of weeks? There are a couple of other horses I’d like you to meet, see if you get a similar reaction or if Frankie is just special.”
“Sure,” I agree a little too quickly. “That sounds like fun.”
“Waynie, you should take me, too,” River suggests.
“River, try your l-sounds again. La-la-la.” He exaggerates the sound, and they go back and forth until the “wa” is replaced with “la.” “Try her name again. La-la-laaaaaayne.”
“Layne,” River pronounces proudly. “Layne. Layne. Layne.”
“That’s good, baby. I knew you could do it.” Ace praises her and her eyes light up. He hangs the moon and the stars for her.
“Laynie,” she says correctly. A sharp pain slices through my chest and my breath hitches in my lungs, but I hide it behind my polite smile. “I like saying Laynie better.”
“Okay, but only as long as Layne doesn’t mind.” Ace replies and looks at me. “It’s up to you. A lot of people don’t like nicknames, and it’s okay if you don’t.”
“I like Laynie. It kind of sounds like ‘Mommy.’ Doesn’t it?” River reasons.
I don’t think about what either of those names means to me. I don’t think about how my heart just shattered inside my chest, never to be made whole again.
“River can call me Laynie if she wants to—but she’s the only one who can.” I wink at River, firmly establishing the agreement that only the two of us are privy to.
“That’s right. She’s my Laynie,” River confirms with a huge smile. It’s impossible not to respond with my own smile.
We finish our meal with easy chitchat. River recounts the events of her day, including every dramatic detail of when the truck almost ran over her. While River regales us with her version of it, I feel Ace’s eyes on me like a heavy veil. Our eyes meet, and without verbal expression, I know what he’s thinking and feeling. Perhaps because my own emotions are still so raw is why I feel his so strongly.
“Layne.” His voice is thick with sentiment.