“Bill says you have a new Thoroughbred. Is he a beauty?”
“Oh, God, Sam, he sure is!” And then she laughed again. “Better even than my green boots.” She looked down with amusement and then back at Sam with a sparkle in her eye. “He’s a stallion and so full of fire that even I can hardly ride him. Bill is terrified I’ll kill myself riding him, but when I saw him, I really couldn’t resist.The son of one of the other ranchers near here bought him in Kentucky, and then needed some quick money so he sold him to me. It’s almost a sin to ride him just for pleasure, but I can’t help it. I just have to. I don’t give a damn if I’m an arthritic old woman, or what kind of fool anyone thinks me, he is the one horse in my lifetime I want to ride till I die.” Sam flinched again at the mention of death and old age. In that sense both she and Bill had changed since the last time. But after all, they were both in their sixties now, maybe it was indeed a preoccupation that was normal for their age. Nonetheless it was impossible to think of either of them as “old people,” they were too handsome, too active, too powerful, too busy. And yet, it was obviously an image of themselves that they both now had. “What’s his name?”
Caroline laughed out loud and then stood up and walked toward the fire, holding out her hands for warmth. “Black Beauty, of course.” She turned toward Samantha, her exquisite features delicately lit by the fire until she looked almost like a carefully etched cameo, or a porcelain figure.
“Has anyone told you lately how beautiful you are, Aunt Caro?” It was the name Barbara had used for her, and this time there were tears in Caroline’s eyes.
“Bless you, Sam. You’re as blind as ever.”
“The hell I am.” She grinned and nibbled at the rest of her sandwich before taking a sip of the hot chocolate that Caroline had poured from a Thermos jug. She was the same gracious hostess she always had been in the days when Samantha had first visited the ranch and all the way back to her legendary parties in Hollywood in 1933. “So.”Sam’s face sobered slowly. “I guess you want to know about John. I don’t suppose there’s much more than what I told you the other night on the phone. He had an affair, he got her pregnant, he left me, they got married, and now they await the birth of their first child.”
“You say it so succinctly.” Then after a moment, “Do you hate him?”
“Sometimes.” Sam’s voice fell to a whisper. “Most of the time I just miss him and wonder if he’s all right. I wonder if she knows that he’s allergic to wool socks. I wonder if anyone buys him the kind of coffee he loves, if he’s sick or healthy or happy or freaked out, if he remembers to take his asthma medicine on a trip … if —if he’s sorry—” She stopped and then looked back at Caroline still standing by the fire. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I mean, the man walked out on me, cheated on me, dumped me, and now he doesn’t even call to find out how I am, and I worry that his feet itch because his wife might make a mistake and buy him wool socks. Is that crazy?” She laughed but it was suddenly a half sob. “Isn’t it?” And then she squeezed her eyes shut again. Slowly she shook her head, keeping her eyes tightly closed, as though by closing them she wouldn’t see the images that had danced in her head for so long. “God, Caro, it was so awful and so public.” She opened her eyes. “Didn’t you read about it?”
“I did. Once. But it was just some vague gossip that you two were separated. I hoped that it was a lie, just some stupid publicity to make him seem more appealing. I know how those things are, how they get planted and don’t mean a thing.”
“This one did. You haven’t watched them together on the broadcast?”
“I never did.”
“Neither did I.” Samantha looked rueful. “But I do now.”
“You ought to stop that.”
Samantha nodded
“Oh, God, Sam, he sure is!” And then she laughed again. “Better even than my green boots.” She looked down with amusement and then back at Sam with a sparkle in her eye. “He’s a stallion and so full of fire that even I can hardly ride him. Bill is terrified I’ll kill myself riding him, but when I saw him, I really couldn’t resist.The son of one of the other ranchers near here bought him in Kentucky, and then needed some quick money so he sold him to me. It’s almost a sin to ride him just for pleasure, but I can’t help it. I just have to. I don’t give a damn if I’m an arthritic old woman, or what kind of fool anyone thinks me, he is the one horse in my lifetime I want to ride till I die.” Sam flinched again at the mention of death and old age. In that sense both she and Bill had changed since the last time. But after all, they were both in their sixties now, maybe it was indeed a preoccupation that was normal for their age. Nonetheless it was impossible to think of either of them as “old people,” they were too handsome, too active, too powerful, too busy. And yet, it was obviously an image of themselves that they both now had. “What’s his name?”
Caroline laughed out loud and then stood up and walked toward the fire, holding out her hands for warmth. “Black Beauty, of course.” She turned toward Samantha, her exquisite features delicately lit by the fire until she looked almost like a carefully etched cameo, or a porcelain figure.
“Has anyone told you lately how beautiful you are, Aunt Caro?” It was the name Barbara had used for her, and this time there were tears in Caroline’s eyes.
“Bless you, Sam. You’re as blind as ever.”
“The hell I am.” She grinned and nibbled at the rest of her sandwich before taking a sip of the hot chocolate that Caroline had poured from a Thermos jug. She was the same gracious hostess she always had been in the days when Samantha had first visited the ranch and all the way back to her legendary parties in Hollywood in 1933. “So.”Sam’s face sobered slowly. “I guess you want to know about John. I don’t suppose there’s much more than what I told you the other night on the phone. He had an affair, he got her pregnant, he left me, they got married, and now they await the birth of their first child.”
“You say it so succinctly.” Then after a moment, “Do you hate him?”
“Sometimes.” Sam’s voice fell to a whisper. “Most of the time I just miss him and wonder if he’s all right. I wonder if she knows that he’s allergic to wool socks. I wonder if anyone buys him the kind of coffee he loves, if he’s sick or healthy or happy or freaked out, if he remembers to take his asthma medicine on a trip … if —if he’s sorry—” She stopped and then looked back at Caroline still standing by the fire. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I mean, the man walked out on me, cheated on me, dumped me, and now he doesn’t even call to find out how I am, and I worry that his feet itch because his wife might make a mistake and buy him wool socks. Is that crazy?” She laughed but it was suddenly a half sob. “Isn’t it?” And then she squeezed her eyes shut again. Slowly she shook her head, keeping her eyes tightly closed, as though by closing them she wouldn’t see the images that had danced in her head for so long. “God, Caro, it was so awful and so public.” She opened her eyes. “Didn’t you read about it?”
“I did. Once. But it was just some vague gossip that you two were separated. I hoped that it was a lie, just some stupid publicity to make him seem more appealing. I know how those things are, how they get planted and don’t mean a thing.”
“This one did. You haven’t watched them together on the broadcast?”
“I never did.”
“Neither did I.” Samantha looked rueful. “But I do now.”
“You ought to stop that.”
Samantha nodded
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