Never Let You Go by Emma Carlson Berne Page B

before jumping in.
    “Look!” Megan said before realizing that she was alone. The others had gone ahead—Robert and Isaac were just disappearing into the shed where the pickup was kept, and farther down the path, she could see Anna holding Jordan’s arm and chattering to him as they walked. Jordan’s shoulders were straight and broad, his back narrowing to his waist in a V. Megan forced her eyes away. Anna’s boy. Anna’s boy. Anna’s boy. What was wrong with her?
    Megan caught up with them at the barn. Jordan rolled back the big double doors, and the fragrance of sawdust and horses wafted out. Minuscule bits of hay floated everywhere, and overhead, swallows swooped in and out of the hayloft. One of the horses—Darryl, Megan thought—whinnied at them as they came in, and the donkey did a couple of excited little turns in his stall.
    “Why is he dancing around like that?” Megan asked Anna.
    Anna opened a door near the front of the barn. Inside was a tiny room lined with metal trash cans, each clearly labeled. She cast Megan an impatient look. “He wants his breakfast.” She didn’t say “idiot,” but she might as well have.
    Megan flushed and glanced at Jordan, but he was studying the hose in the corner and then starting to unravel the green loops.
    “Hey, you girls want to start feeding and I’ll do the buckets?”
    Anna smiled at him. “Great idea.”
    Megan peered into the garbage cans. Each held a different kind of grain.
    “Okay, show me what these guys get for breakfast,” she said. “Anna? Anna!” Her friend was still watching Jordan uncoil the hose.
    “It’s really sexy watching guys work, don’t you think, Megan?” she said loud enough for Jordan to hear.
    Megan grabbed a big steel scoop from the wall. “Focus, Anna. Here, do we use this to measure it out?”
    Anna dragged her attention away from Jordan. “Hmm? Uh, yeah. It’s this feed here, the sticky stuff. Half scoop for each horse. Cisco just gets a handful.”
    “Okay.” Megan dumped the grain into a smaller bucket nearby and carried it out to the stalls. Both horses pricked their ears eagerly at the sight of the bucket.
    “Hi,” Megan said softly as she approached. Rosie bobbed her head up and down as if responding. Her belly looked even bigger this morning than it had yesterday. Megan carefully reached over each horse’s half door and emptied their grain into their feed bins.
    “Here, Meg,” she heard Anna call. She turned, and her friend pitched her a currycomb. “Brush Rosie while she’s eating. I’ll do Darryl. Then we can turn them out and do their stalls. You just rub in circles from neck to tail.”
    Megan slid back the bolt and slipped into the dimness of Rosie’s stall. The mare seemed huge up close, but Rosie ignoredMegan, keeping her head sunken in her feed bin as she eagerly snuffled up her grain.
    Jordan appeared at the door to unclip the heavy water bucket, then moved on to Darryl’s stall. Gently, Megan started currying the mare’s neck, moving the currycomb against the short chestnut fur. The skin was warmer under the horse’s heavy blond mane. Rosie continued eating, and Megan rubbed in steady circles, feeling the firm muscles under the horse’s skin and watching the dust puff under her comb as she worked. She felt like she was cleaning her mind as well. Rubbing out all Anna’s little jabs from yesterday and today. Rubbing out the sight of Anna’s face in the dark cabin last night. A memory floated up of a time a few summers ago when Anna had been in one of her moods. She’d come over to Megan’s house to tell Megan exactly why she found her so annoying. She’d sat in Megan’s room, calm, complacent, spelling out the reasons while Megan cried tears of impotent rage.
    Finally, Megan had screamed, picked up a wooden-soled clog from the floor, and thrown it at Anna’s head as hard as she could. It had missed and broken the window instead. Megan licked her lips. She hadn’t thought of that for