For Alice, With Love

Chapter 7 - Temper

Amelia threw the bale of hay at the wall. "Jerk. Asshole. Party Boy." She wiped her nose on the back of her glove, realizing the futility of being mad. She plunked down on the bale for a moment to rest.

When he had started in on bringing in more help, a ball of anger pushed into her stomach, followed by apprehension. She didn't want to share this place; she didn't want help in her gardens and her stables. It was hard enough getting used to another person being in the house, let alone it being him, leaving a mess wherever he went. She did not want to give up all the hard work she had done. She did not want to lose what was the best job she'd ever had.

Amelia's temper was still bubbling, so she purposefully breathed in and out to calm herself down. She wasn't going to be let go, and Chris would have to run things past his mother. Even though he was here now, it wasn't his place.

Yet.

And that thought hung in the air. Maybe she would sign the place over to him once the divorce was final. Then it would be his decision, and she didn't like that.

Cutting through the twine on the bale she'd been sitting on, she portioned out a few flakes into each bright, clean stall. The smell of shavings and fresh hay lowered her blood pressure, so she focused on the job at hand, not what-if scenarios that were just fueling stress. She was more than capable of handling this, and she could also handle Chris.

As she brushed her jeans off, and turned to grab lead ropes for the horses, a cough echoed through the stable.

Chris.

He was just inside the door, hands in his pockets, a slightly wrinkled look on his face. He'd not been interested in horses as a child, and when he got older, had only ever feigned interest when he said he was interested in some girl at school who liked horses.

Amelia had ridden some of the horses for his mother in the summers then, pestering the stable staff until they relented. She'd made herself useful there whenever she could, enjoyed every moment, sometimes simply sitting in the stable with her homework as the horses and riders came and went.

"Hey," he said, but continued to shift his eyes around, not looking directly at her. She shook her head.

Mel had never found out who the girl was, but she and Chris spent a lot of time together riding that summer. Alice had even mentioned it once, teasing her about it. She had loved it, her crush on him thumping along, the excuse to spend time with him perfect.

She'd been jealous too, because of course he was a natural horseman, where she had to work at it. He'd given it up the moment he went off to college.

"Come to help?" she asked, amused at his presence.

He raised an eyebrow, but held out a hand for a lead rope anyways. She handed it to him silently, and they walked out the end door, into the sunlight. The horses were gathered around the gate, expectant of their dinner, and Chris hesitated when he saw them.

"They're gentle. Won't hurt a fly, I assure you," she said, and unhitched the gate chain. She hooked her gelding up, and traded lead ropes with him.

"Take Red. First stall on the left."

Chris walked away with her horse at arms-length, still not saying anything, and she dragged the two ponderous mares behind her into the barn, eye on him in case he got into trouble. Once the horses were safely locked in, she leaned against the wall, and watched as Chris stood, hands back in his pockets, facing one of the mares. The sound of hay being rustled and munched filled the silence, and Amelia didn't want to speak, lest it fracture the peace that always accompanied that sound.