Сьюзен Мэллери - Summer Nights

“You haven’t lost her.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can. She obviously cares about you, although for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. That’s not going to change overnight. But you’re going to have to figure out a way to convince her you’re worth a second chance. I haven’t got a clue on that one.”

Shane thought about Annabelle, how she made him laugh and how he looked forward to being with her. He thought of all he knew about her and what was most important to her. It wasn’t a matter of convincing, he realized. Love wasn’t about words, it was about actions.

“I know how,” he said. “But I’m going to need your help.”

* * *

THE MORNING OF THE FESTIVAL dawned warm and clear. Perfect weather, guaranteeing big crowds. Good news, Annabelle told herself as she secured the circle of flowers in her hair. Plenty of money would be raised today. Hopefully enough to cover the purchase price of the bookmobile along with the cost of all the books and supplies. Anything left over would go toward the little things like gas, insurance and, hey, paying a driver.

Problems for another day, she told herself. She shook her head a couple of times to make sure the flowers would stay in place as Khatar rose on his rear legs, then pulled on the white Máa-zib-inspired dress she would wear.

The full skirt would keep her covered as she rode astride. She was supposed to be barefoot, which was easy enough. She was also supposed to look fierce, or at the very least happy. Neither of which seemed very likely.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Shane, which wasn’t a surprise considering everything. He’d said he wanted to talk. Even though she kept telling herself that the only subject of interest was the baby, she wanted him to have meant something else. That maybe he’d finally figured out she wasn’t playing games with him, that she didn’t want to “win” anything. Her only goal was to be with the man she loved and have him love her back.

She would know more tomorrow, she thought, wishing she had suggested they have their conversation after the ceremony today. At least that would cut down on the wait time.

She slipped her feet into sandals and left her house. The walk to the beginning of the parade route was short. She waved at people she knew as she went and was pleased to find a large crowd already lining the streets.

When she slipped past the barricades into the prep area, she was surprised to see Mandy and her friends there and in costumes that looked a lot like hers.

“Surprise!” the girls shouted, then rushed toward her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“We’re in the parade, too!”

“Shane’s been teaching us the steps with our horses and everything.”

“He said he wanted this to be the best parade ever so we would get a lot of money for the bookmobile.”

“He did?”

She told herself not to wish for too much. He would have had to start practicing with them weeks ago. Long before he’d found out she was pregnant and had decided to assume the worst.

“Our horses are here and everything,” Mandy said, pointing.

Annabelle saw Rafe leading the last of the riding horses down the ramp of a trailer. The other three were already saddled and tied up to a makeshift railing. Khatar was there as well, with flowers in his mane and his white coat painted to match the trim on her dress.

Khatar and Rafe and the girls and their horses, but no Shane.

The hope she’d been holding on to died. Shane didn’t want to talk to her about the two of them. About a future. He was going to have a child and he would want to protect his interests. If he cared about her, if he believed in her, he would have been here.

She walked over to the big Arabian stallion and rubbed his face. “You’re very handsome,” she whispered, fighting tears. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

Rafe came over. “You ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

“There’s a big crowd,” he told her. “You’re going to get your bookmobile out of this.”

“Then it’s all been worth it.”

He smiled at her. “My brothers and I talked last night. We’re going to set up a trust fund for the bookmobile. It will cover maintaining the program. It was Shane’s idea.”

She stared at him. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”

“I’ll let him tell you.” He touched her shoulder. “Don’t give up on him. He’s a good guy.”

“I know that. Loving him isn’t the problem.”

“Then maybe it’s time to have a little faith.”

He moved next to Khatar and laced his fingers together. Annabelle slipped off her sandals, gathered her skirt in one hand and pushed off the ground. When she’d settled in the saddle, Rafe helped her straighten her skirt, then handed her the reins. He got each of the girls ready and then it was time.

The sun was high in the sky as they started the parade. The Fool’s Gold High School Marching Band went first, followed by the cheerleaders. A few local businesses had decorated cars with banners and flowers, then Pia signaled for Annabelle to start.

“This is it,” Annabelle told Khatar as she guided him into place then lightly touched his side with her bare heel. “We’re the main attraction.”

The parade route went through the center of town and ended at the park. Huge crowds lined the sidewalk, cheering and calling out. The smell of popcorn and hot dogs mingled with the scent of suntan lotion and barbecue. Children waved small flags and a couple of balloons drifted toward freedom and deep space.

Khatar took it all in and seemed to enjoy the attention. He zigzagged along the parade route, carefully performing his steps. Annabelle found she didn’t have to offer much in the way of encouragement. He tossed his head and pranced, a happy horse adoring the waving audience.

When they reached the edge of the park, Annabelle saw the altar where Clay would be waiting. After Khatar performed his big finish, she would dismount—hopefully without flashing the crowd—and climb the two steps to where Clay was tied up. She would take the fake knife from her belt and pretend to cut out his heart. Easy enough, she thought. Then she could make her escape, go home and have yet another good cry. This one, she promised herself, would be her last. Her heart might still be breaking, but sobbing every day couldn’t be good for the baby.

She and Khatar came to a stop near the dais. She gave him the signal and he gracefully rose onto his back legs. His front legs pawed impressively. The crowd gasped, then cheered. When he came down to solid ground, she swung her leg over, gathered her skirt around her and slid to the ground. The second cheer surprised her.

She offered a little wave, then gave Khatar a scratch behind the ears. “You were great,” she told him.

The stairs were on her left. She started up, just wanting this all to be over. She had a few words to give, then she would pretend to cut out the heart of her sacrifice and call it a day. Only she realized the loincloth-clad man wasn’t Clay at all. It was Shane.

He lay spread-eagle on a bed of hay. His face had been painted like a Máa-zib male prisoner would have been hundreds of years ago, his wrists and ankles wrapped in rope as if he were bound, although she knew he wasn’t. He had a chain of flowers around his neck.

She climbed the second step, then stared at him. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a low voice, aware there was a microphone somewhere.

He smiled at her. “If you’re going to cut out anyone’s heart, it’s going to be mine.”

She heard someone murmur in the crowd. No doubt everyone was waiting for the big finish.

“I’m not mad at you,” she told him in a whisper.