Triple Exposure Page 2

  “Smart dog,” Meg said. “He could get his face kicked in. Doesn’t he have a name?”

  Nicky shook her head. To give him a name would be to acknowledge his presence as possibly permanent. Pretending indifference to Brittle’s alarming behavior, she turned away from the fence.

  “Look,” Meg said, toeing the ground. “I wonder if you could put some grain in that ground feeder for him tonight.” They had unloaded several bags of feed and stored them in the old milk room. “I have to go somewhere. Something I can’t beg out of.”

  Nicky hesitated, words of protest crowding her thoughts, then said nothing. After all, it was only one night, and she had Meg’s first check for one hundred dollars.

  That evening she poured the feed into the tub and hurried out of the enclosure as the horse raced from the pasture toward her. He seemed to know that dinner was served. “Hey,” she said when Brittle first nosed the tub, then pawed it, spilling the grain onto the ground.

  Looking up at the sound of a vehicle, half expecting it to be Meg again, she recognized Beth’s car, a black Ford Probe. Beth emerged from the driver’s seat looking as sleek as the car. Her thick, light brown hair was piled on top of her head. She wore cotton slacks, a short-sleeved cotton sweater and loafers. She bent to touch the dog, who had rushed to greet her.

  “Give him a name yet?”

  “He’s not staying. I’m sure he already has a name—we just don’t know what it is.”

  “That’s what you think. He’s here for the duration. How about calling him Scrappy?”

  Ignoring the suggestion, Nicky said, “Come see my new roomie.”

  “Where did he come from?” Beth exclaimed upon seeing Brittle. “Isn’t he elegant?”

  “He doesn’t belong to me.” Nicky told her about the events that had led the horse to her barn.

  “He’s a gelding, probably a quarter horse. Is he registered?”

  “Yes. How do you know those things?” Nicky was impressed.

  While Brittle crunched grain between strong yellow teeth, Beth leaned over and pointed. “He’s been cut, so he can’t become a daddy. And he looks like a quarter horse. The American Quarter Horse Association is the world’s fastest growing horse breed registry and the largest,” she said knowingly.

  “No kidding.” Nicky grinned, glad to see her. “Will you stay for supper?”

  “Love to. I tried to call you all day.”

  “I’ve been outside. Let’s go throw some food together.” Still dressed in sweat-stained shorts and T-shirt, she put an arm around Beth and led her toward the house.

  She and Beth had attended high school together, had been lovers while roommates at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Heartbroken when Beth exhibited signs of heterosexuality, Nicky nevertheless agreed to be the maid of honor at her wedding. Shortly thereafter, Nicky left the university without graduating and returned to the Fox Cities, and Beth forged ahead toward her law degree. It seemed impossible that fifteen years had passed.

  “Where’s your handsome young son?”

  “At home with his dad.” Beth paused outside the back door. The dog panted between them. “I missed you.”

  “Me too.” Nicky pushed the door inward, placing a restraining foot against the dog’s chest as he tried to squeeze inside with them. “How d’you know so much about horses, Ms. Forrester?”

  “I have a client who shows Quarter Horses. I’ve ridden some of their stock.”

  “Really?” Nicky felt desire stir. She admired Beth, who always seemed to know what she wanted out of life and how to get it.

  Despite the idle conversation, she knew why Beth was there—and alone. Their love affair had resumed a year after Matt’s birth, when Beth and Mark moved to the Fox Cities to join his father’s law practice.

  Nicky hadn’t been able to resist saying, “You never should have married, you know.”

  To which Beth had replied, “I never would have had Matt otherwise.”

  Looking into Beth’s clear, hazel eyes, Nicky thought ruefully that Beth still had Mark and Matt and Nicky. She understood why Beth loved Matt so much. At ten years of age, he endeared himself to Nicky too with his gentle, friendly ways. On the other hand, she hardly knew Mark. She was fairly certain, though, that he knew nothing of Beth’s affair with her.

  As the bedroom darkened around them later, Nicky murmured into Beth’s slender neck, “You smell wonderful, you taste wonderful, you look wonderful.”

  Beth burbled soft laughter. “So do you, sweetie.”

  “But I wish things were different.” Nicky sighed deeply, kissing the space between Beth’s winged collarbone. They lay hot and languid from lovemaking in Nicky’s double bed. “I want you to stay the night.” She breathed the request into Beth’s rosy lips as she ran a warm, persuasive hand over her slippery, smooth skin.

  Beth struggled to a sitting position. “I love you, Nicky, but I have to get back.”

  Nicky propped herself on an elbow, the sheet falling off her breasts. “Matthew would love it here, especially with a horse.”

  Beth paused while gathering her clothes to glance at Nicky. Her voice softened. “Look at you. You have the nicest breasts.” Then, “The kid loves Little League baseball too. He’s a city boy. Want to take a shower?”

  Afterwards, they dried each other and dressed and started for the door.

  Beth’s eyes smiled into Nicky’s. “Listen, this was a nice evening. Let’s don’t spoil it with demands.”

  Nicky experienced a brief moment of despair. Beth never made any demands. She seemed happy with things as they were. But she only said, “I love you, Beth. Give my love to Matthew.”

  “I will, sweetie. Look who’s here waiting for us—Scrappy. There’s nothing as devoted as a dog. You really ought to clean him up.”

  They passed the sweet-smelling honeysuckle bush on their way to Beth’s Probe, and Nicky watched the car swallowed up by distance and the night. She said to the dog, “Scrappy, huh? It fits.” Suddenly lonely, she went over to the new fence but couldn’t see even a shadow of Brittle in the pasture.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, parked behind the Art Barn, Nicky let herself in the rear door. The old wood floors creaked under her tennis shoes as she made her way past paintings and prints, sculptures and pottery, to the square counter at the center of the building. Fans hung from the high ceilings, lazily stirring the air.

  Margo, her bleached blonde hair stacked untidily on top of her head, looked up over half-glasses and welcomed Nicky with a smile. She wore a smock and long skirt over her large frame. “I just sold one of your photographs.”

  “Really? Which one?”

  “Spring.” Margo’s prominent pale, blue eyes met Nicky’s in a moment of pleased acknowledgment. By offering Nicky a job at the Art Barn, Margo had given her an opportunity to show and sell her work. Nicky earned her paycheck by framing pictures for customers and tending the store in Margo’s absence.

  Nicky flushed. She disliked naming her photos, but Margo insisted, claiming that the titles helped to sell the prints.

  “Did you take any pictures this weekend?”

  She hadn’t and silently wondered why. She mentioned Brittle, thinking he might make a good photography subject.

  Burying herself in the back room all morning, Nicky made a valiant attempt to catch up with framing orders. Around noon Margo stuck her head in the door to say she was leaving for a while, could Nicky keep an eye out for customers. When the front door jangled, Nicky reluctantly put aside her work.

  “We could run off with some valuable art here,” Beth called, one arm around Matthew.

  Wiping her hands on her work apron, Nicky smiled, pleased to see the two of them. “If we had anything valuable to run off with. How you doing, Matt? Batting a thousand?”

  “Naw,” the boy admitted. He was small and skinny with straight brown hair and eyes like his mother’s. He readjusted his ball cap and jerked it down over his forehead. “I brought in the winning r
un yesterday,” he said proudly.

  “Did you?” Nicky pulled the bill of his cap down even more, covering long-lashed, hazel eyes. “Did your mother tell you about Brittle?”

  “Yeah.” He tipped his head back in order to meet her eyes. “Can I see him?”

  “He’s a big dude. Maybe if Meg’s there, you can ride him. Would you like that?”

  Beth, looking cool and lovely in a tailored rayon suit, said, “We can only stay a few minutes. I have to take Matt to practice and get back to the office. Thought we could set something up for Matt to meet the horse Saturday.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll call you soon as I talk to Meg,” Nicky said to Beth. Then to Matt, “Take care of that right arm.” She winked at him, and he grinned shyly in return.

  Meg was grooming Brittle when Nicky arrived home that evening. The horse was tied to a fence post in the small lot just outside the barn. Mosquitoes droned overhead, and the air smelled faintly of citronella. Nicky leaned on the fence to watch. Scrappy left her side to nose the manure piles.

  Meg shooed him out of the enclosure. “Dogs sometimes eat manure,” she said.

  Nicky glanced down. Was he that hungry? “Maybe I should feed him, but then he’d never leave.”

  “Would you like to ride?”

  Nicky laughed. “No, thanks.” She watched admiringly as Meg put a pad, a Western saddle and bridle on the horse and mounted him.

  “He rides double,” Meg said, looking down at her.

  Nicky shook her head emphatically and followed the fence so that she could keep them in view. She had never seen a horse, not even in the movies, that didn’t toss its head or swish its tail when ridden, that didn’t run off on a loose rein. Astonished, she watched Brittle canter across the pasture like a huge rocking horse.

  A warm breeze washed over her as the low-lying sun set the western sky aflame and turned puffy clouds pink overhead. A few early lightning bugs flashed on and off in the meadow. Nicky retrieved her camera from the floor of the truck and snapped several shots of horse and rider silhouetted against the colors of the sky.

  Before going home Meg joined her for a beer on the screened-in front porch. They could see nothing outside but an occasional firefly. June bugs buzzed and moths shredded velvety wings against the screens in vain attempts to reach the lights.

  Nicky got up and switched off the overhead bulb. The blackness of the night sky, relieved by a nearly full moon and countless glittering stars, slowly revealed itself. The June bugs and moths ceased their frantic efforts to get inside. The wind had vanished with the sun, and the night surrounded them with warm, pulsing darkness.

  “This is great,” Meg said, settling back on the chaise lounge. “I could fall asleep here.”

  “I often do,” Nicky replied. “Have you always had a horse?”

  “Nope. Brittle’s my first.”

  “What made you buy him?”

  “I didn’t. I inherited him.” Nicky could feel Meg’s eyes on her. “And now I’m hiding him.”

  A few heartbeats of silence followed this remark. Just her luck, she thought, the horse must be hot. “Why?”

  “I told my roommate, Denise, that I sold him. Why do you think I drive that beat-up car? He eats all my spare cash.”

  Nicky failed to understand. “But why do you have to tell her anything? It’s your money, isn’t it?”

  “I know that, you know that, even she knows that.” Nicky saw the shadow of a fatalistic shrug. “Which reminds me, I’d better be going. She’ll be wondering where I am.”

  Nicky accompanied Meg to her car and stood slapping at mosquitoes while the Rabbit vanished into the satiny night. Hurrying back to the porch, she made a bed out of the chaise lounge and, wrapped in a sheet, stared at the sky until her eyes closed in sleep.

  Brittle chased her across the pasture in her dreams that night. She hid behind the few trees, trying to escape his persistent pursuit, and awoke with a pounding heart to the hush before dawn. Forcing herself to stay awake so that she wouldn’t return to the dream, she watched shadowy objects solidify as daylight turned the sky a deep blue. The hush ended with the first bird’s chirp, followed by the early morning chorus that would not die away until nesting season was over. Some mornings she cursed the symphony of birds that ended her sleep.

  Standing barefoot in the bathroom, she stared at her face in the mirror. Freckles brought out by the summer sun marched across her nose and cheeks. Her disheveled black hair stood on end where it was cut short on top and flattened where it curled down the back of her neck. Her dark blue eyes looked gummy with sleep. “Who would want to wake up to you?” she said, wishing that Beth did.

  ***

  The following Saturday morning, Nicky waited in her kitchen with Beth and Matthew. Matt had just stuffed an entire piece of coffee cake into his mouth, and Nicky couldn’t take her eyes off him. Beth was reading the paper. He washed the coffee cake down with milk and wiped his lips with the back of one hand.

  Hearing the sound of the Rabbit, Nicky swallowed the dregs of her coffee. “That’s Meg. Ready to go?”

  The boy grabbed another piece of coffee cake, which he fed to the dog. “Can we take him home, Mom?” he begged.

  “He does need a home,” Nicky said to Beth.

  “He has a home. He’s good company for you. We’re gone all day,” Beth pointed out.

  Meg was shaking a bucket of grain near where the new fence met the old. She stood her ground when Brittle, snorting excitement, skidded to a stop a foot from her and buried his nose in the pail. Slipping the halter over his long ears, she led him toward the barn. Matthew hung on the fence, his eyes wide.

  “I hear you want to ride,” Meg said.

  “Maybe,” he replied. “Does he like people riding him?”

  “I think he does,” Meg said, “especially kids. I’ll tell you what. I’ll put him on a longe line and you can ride that way.”

  Matt climbed the fence and jumped down on the other side. “What’s a longe line?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Feeling Beth’s warm shoulder touching her own, Nicky pressed against her. They were the same height—toe-lockers, Nicky often said—around five-foot-four inches. She smiled into Beth’s gold-flecked eyes, shaded like her son’s by curling dark lashes. “You’re gorgeous,” she whispered.

  “You’re full of sweet shit,” Beth murmured back.

  In the field Meg gave the boy a leg up, then urged the horse to move in large circles around her, his halter fastened to a long nylon lead which she controlled.

  Patting Beth’s hand reassuringly, Nicky said, “She knows what she’s doing.” Something she only assumed. And despite her dream, she added, “Anyway, he’s harmless.”

  “Nothing that big is ever harmless.”

  They watched as Matt bounced precariously, clutching the saddle horn. Meg called instructions to him, “Straighten your back, sit deep, get your heels down, move with the horse,” and then encouragement, “Atta boy.”

  The sun baked them where they stood. Matt didn’t look like he was having a good time, Nicky thought. It pained her to watch him jerk like a loose sack of potatoes. “Want to wade in the creek?” she suggested to Beth.

  “How can I? He might fall off.”

  “Are you planning to catch him?”

  Throwing Nicky an annoyed look, Beth snapped, “All right,” and strode off through the tall grass.

  “Where’s the fire?” Nicky asked, hurrying to keep up.

  Beth slowed her step. “Sorry.”

  “What are you doing the rest of the day? Can you stay?”

  “This afternoon Matt has a game and tonight we’ve been invited to dinner. Clients,” she added, smiling apologetically.

  Nicky struggled to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “When do we get another Saturday together?”

  Spreading her arms, palms up, Beth shrugged. “When I can arrange it. It’s just real hard. Mark doesn’t understand.”

  They had reached the
stream where it turned a corner, undercutting its bank. Nicky sat down and leaned against the trunk of a weeping willow. The dog plopped full length on one side of her, while Beth sat on the other. Beth reached for her hand and Nicky pulled it away, asking, “Why would he?”

  “Look, you want me to tell him?”

  Giving her a dark look, Nicky said between clenched teeth, “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” She thought that was the truth. The little dog licked her face, and for the first time she saw his large adoring eyes peering out from under shaggy black brows. If he hadn’t smelled so bad, she might have smiled, might not have held him at arm’s length.

  “I’ll come early tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Once a week, is that all the time we’re ever going to have? But I suppose you’re getting it in between.” Nicky looked away. Her jaw was beginning to ache.

  “You sound like Matt when he doesn’t get his way,” Beth said, leaning forward attempting to make eye contact.

  Nicky jumped to her feet. “Let’s go back before I say something I shouldn’t.” She saw Meg leading Brittle toward the barn, Matt still mounted on his back. Scrappy raced toward them.

  “Like what?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow. Why don’t you ask Meg to do something tonight?”

  Nicky snorted a laugh. “You don’t care? She’s gay, you know.” A peculiar look crossed Beth’s face. “Taste something bad?”

  “Yes. You’re threatening me.”

  “No, I’m not. You’ll know when I am.”

  ***

  They had reached the barn and Matthew was running toward them. “Did you see me, Mom? Meg says I’m a natural.”

  “I’m real proud of you, sweetie. You looked like a cowboy up there. Just needed a hat, didn’t he, Nicky?”

  “And boots. I was impressed.”

  “Didn’t he do great?” Meg enthused. “I can’t believe it was his first time on horseback. With a few lessons he’d be ready to hit the show circuit.”