Book Series: IRISH BLUE Author: Sheila Willar Copyright: 2022 Sheila Willar ISBN #: 978-0-9867101-4-8 Book Title: THE CHAPEL Chapter #: 12 - THE TRAIL RIDE
BOOK 1 - CHAPTER 12 - THE TRAIL RIDE
Erin was relieved that Maggy’s wedding was back on track and that the Irish Blue stone had been repaired.
However, her relationship with Astor had made life increasingly difficult.
At the office, Erin’s co-workers were not comfortable being themselves around her anymore, and her supervisor had given her less and less to do.
If she asked for help, he would say “Just leave it!”, whereas the other employees had to account for every bit of work they did.
Erin tried to downplay the relationship, but it only became worse because Astor had the habit of emerging from the elevator with her silk-scarf waving in the air, and dropping off notes on Erin’s desk.
The notes were cryptic. They were two or three scribbled words that made no sense to anyone except Mrs. Mancinni.
Erin’s co-workers wanted to know what the notes said, but Erin was so embarrassed that she could not read them, that she squirrelled them away in her pocket as fast as possible, which only made the secrecy all the more suspect.
The curiosity about Erin and Astor had also spread to her family.
Back at the apartment, Finola surmised that Erin had weaselled her way into the Mancinni’s lives, pretending to be interested in “concrete”.
“That kind of work’s no place for a woman,” stated Finola.
“What does Erin know about rocks?” said one aunt.
“What does Astor know about it?” said the other.
“Poor John Mancinni,” they sighed.
“Her husband won’t leave his girlfriend.”
“Girlfriends!”
“Men!”
Erin endured the gossip and the slights. She had heard it all before. Mostly from her own mother.
In Kinkerry, women had been excluded from working in the mines, and the the idea of a woman in architecture was just another form of men's work.
“The car is here!” yelled Kelly. “Let’s go!”
She and Erin burst out of the apartment. It was Friday evening and they were heading to the Mancinni’s, for Mrs. A’s wedding the next day.
They had no interest in the ceremony, but Errin had invited them for a trail ride and they didn’t want to miss it for anything.
As soon as they arrived, they ran to the barn where the horses were being brushed, saddled and lined up outside.
Mr. Hailey, who managed the barn, was doing his best to keep things organized, but the teenagers were more excited about each other than the horses.
There was a lot of commotion.
“Errin,” yelled one of the volunteers, but Errin with two “r’s” did not respond.
However Erin with one “r” did.
“Here’s your horse. Bring up the rear,” he said as he passed Erin a helmet and the reins.
Erin was used to riding and had no problem settling into the saddle. “Great,” she thought. “This will be fun.”
“Ride on!” someone called and off they went down the trail.
Rally was Erin’s horse and a perfect gentleman.
He did exactly as Erin commanded, responding to the slightest touch of the calves or heels and to the deftest weight of her hands.
Rally was a trained soldier. He could read her mind and anticipate her every move. His years of experience and pride kept him one step ahead of her intentions at all times.
Everything went fine until they reached a clearing where one of the other horses was bent on challenging Rally.
At first Erin remained motionless for fear of triggering a run-away, but as the bullying continued, she turned Rally around to avoid a confrontation.
Erin encouraged Rally to pay no mind to the other horse, and he was more than willing to do his part because he had been taught to endure difficult circumstances.
He was unshakable in motorcades, in violent protests, and during gun salutes. However, he did have a weakness.
While he was naturally dismissive of humans he did not have the same tolerance for horses.
Suddenly, Rally spun around and pushed the quarrelsome horse backwards, and its rider yelled to Erin, “Stand down!”
Erin became flustered and pulled hard on Rally’s reins and kicked him with her foot. She only meant to pull him aside, the way as she had with stubborn horses back home.
However, she may as well have pushed the gas pedal to the floor of a race car, because that is exactly how Rally interpreted her commands.
He never second-guessed a rider, and therefore he turned on a dime, dug his hooves deep into the earth, bound over a rock wall, charged down the nearest trail, and was determined to pick up speed with every push.
His shiny black coat and long wavy mane, flowed like oil as he thundered down the narrow path.
Erin fell forward against his neck, and had the presence of mind to duck under the tree branches that smacked against her helmet.
Her heart pounded as she looked for a safe place to jump off, but up ahead she saw a bend in the trail that might slow him down, so she lowered her body even further and tightened the reins.
However, as they got closer to the turn, a horse and rider suddenly appeared in front of them.
“HALT!” yelled Erin out of sheer panic as they approached the giant gray steed.
Rally had no problem with the word “Halt”.
He had done it to avoid cars, trains, brick walls and cliffs, and he was good at it.
He braced his front legs and dug them into the ground like iron rods, while he sat down on his hind quarters to create a triangle of support for his shoulders and neck.
Earth and rocks flew into the air as Erin wrapped her arms around his neck.
Together they slid across the gravel to stop just in front of a solemn-faced man and his unwavering stallion.
Rally righted himself and stood tall and proud that he had done exactly what he had been told to do.
“Who are you?” demanded the man.
“I’m Erin,” she answered out of breath.
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am.”
“What are you doing on my horse.”
“Mrs. Mancinni’s horse.”
“My horse.”
“Astor’s Horse.”
“My horse!”
“They gave me this horse for a trail ride.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m attending the wedding.”
As soon as he heard the word “wedding” the old man’s demeanour changed.
“There's not going to be a wedding,” he announced.
“Yes there is.”
“No there’s not.”
“You’re John!” gasped Erin.
“Be on your way!”
“But the wedding's tomorrow. Astor said that you approved it."
“Is that what she told you?”
“No. I heard her and Fenton talking about it. He’s the monk.”
“I know who Fenton is!” growled John as he kicked his horse and galloped away.
Erin wasn’t sure what to do next.
She dismounted and gathered Rally’s reins in her shaking hands, and removed her helmet to let the breeze dry the sweat from her forehead.
Rally was unfazed and tugged hard to rip mouthfuls of wild flowers from the side of the trail.
As they walked back to the stable, spears of light shot down through the trees onto the path, and suddenly, an eddy current of wind lifted a swirl of dry leaves into the air.
Rally neighed and shook his head, and they both froze in place, as a cathedral of light shone in front of them.
Next, out from the shimmering glow, came a girl walking a horse. It was a mirror image of herself and Rally.
Then, above them appeared a monk, with his arms held out as if he was flying in a great channel of wind.
“Erin! Erin!” someone cried.
She stood perfectly still.
She thought that the vision was calling her name, but it was Kelly and Errin who had been out looking for her.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.”
“Did you fall off?”
“No.”
“I heard that Rally did a sitting stop.”
“Yes.”
“That must have been fun.”
“No.”
“You sure you’re OK?”
“I told Mr. Mancinni.”
“Told him what?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
Rally was happy to see Errin with two r’s. He liked her a lot. He liked people who were good at taking charge, even if it meant the end of eating wild flowers.
Back at the stable Mr. Hailey gave Erin a stern look.
“You should not have been riding that horse,” he cautioned. “He’s quite a handful.”
“Yes.”
“Sitting stop, eh?”
“Uh huh.”
“Did he favour his right knee?”
“Not that I noticed.”
“Mrs. Mancinni wants to see you.”
“She does?”
“In the cedar garden.”
Erin sighed as she watched Kelly and Errin brush the dust from Rally’s neck, the very spot where she had hung on for dear life.
Then she walked slowly towards the rows of trimmed hedges, where Mr. and Mrs. Mancinni sat on one of the benches.
“You overheard a private conversation,” began Astor.
“Yes, but I didn’t mean to.”
"How much did you hear?"
"Nothing really."
“We have been working with Fenton on a special project. It is a passion of ours.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is not a public matter … yet,” explained Astor.
“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to ..."”
“So whatever you heard, it needs to remain private.”
Astor removed her scarf and placed it around Erin's shoulders, where it sat uneasily.
"Keep it as a reminder of today.”
“Thank you.”
“We’ll see you at the wedding then.”
“Yes.”
Erin shuddered as she walked back to join the other girls, but first she took the scarf off and hid it in her pocket.
The next day the wedding went ahead as planned.
Astor wore a pastel-yellow dress with a matching hat, and a Monet-sky-blue scarf that danced around her neck wherever she went.
She also wore velvet-blue gloves to accessorize the look, and to pin-point the staccato movements of her fingers as she orchestrated the events of the day.
Fenton performed the ceremony with a sense of great relief on his face, as if, like Moses, he had just parted the sea and crossed to the other side.
In contrast, Mrs. A was uncharacteristically serene and said only a few words, while a hush fell over the congregation as they said their vows.
“I chose you first,” said John, as he reminisced about how they had met decades ago.
“I chose you first,” teased Astor, who reminded him that "love is a mystery of life”.
The little chapel snuggled warmly into the meadow, as the Irish Blue stones celebrated along with the guests.
Soon, the wedding party and rows of children, chased each other out through the doors, as the guests made their way to the reception.
All was smooth sailing, until a punch bowl, full to the brim with orange ice, had developed a crack and leaked a stream of sticky sugar down over the edge of the serving table.
No one noticed until the younger children had crawled underneath to let the sweet treat dribble down their chins and clothes, after which they wiped it away with their hands, and onto anyone and anything else they could find.
From that point on, the wedding pictures included a sequence of orange fingerprints on everything, a detail that shook some, but did not bother the kids one bit.
Erin, Kelly, and Errin spent the evening making plans for the remainder of the summer, which was quickly coming to a close.
As they warmed themselves beside a crackling fire, and under a sparkling starry-night sky, Erin made a wish.
It was not the kind of wish that a person thought of before hand.
It was a "pure thought" ... a kind of singularity that had no beginning or end.
It used no formula or filter in its making.
And it left no trail from which it came.
It had no limits or conditions, because it had no tether to synapses or cerebral media.
It knew nothing of self-ambition or strife.
Nothing of cost or effort.
It had miraculously slipped through the gauntlet of human conditioning and permissions.
It came out of the blue.
It lived in the moment.
It was more of a question than a goal.
More of a wonderment than an intent.
For one, glorious, fraction of a second, Erin simply wished … that she could take "all of it" with her back to Ireland.
