Mrs. Susie and I embrace each other like a mother and her child.
Monkey pokes his nose between us and playfully bumps my arm with his forehead.
The horses in the pasture whiny happily.
Mrs. Susie and I let go and grin at each other. Ours and Monkey's heads turn toward Maise.
She's standing in complete silence, fiddling with her fingers. The evening sun shimmers over her back. It casts her shadow across the length of the ring.
"Well, Maise, do you have something to say to Miss Stella?" Mrs. Susie questions.
Maise has to think a bit, but before I know it, she bursts into tears. "Yes. I'm sorry, Miss Stella. I should have never doubted you. I still have so much to learn about horses. Please forgive me."
"Come here," I say. I take hold of Maise's hand and pull her close. "Listen to me. I'm sorry, too. This whole time, I was thinking about myself and nobody else. You, though, Maise, helped me more than you think. Your love for horses made me realize how much they mean to me, too, and that is the best birthday present I can ask for. I am honored to have you as my student."
Maise sniffs. "Thank you, Miss Stella." She gets down on her knees, and we embrace each other—for a good two minutes, nonetheless.
The honks of geese overhead snap us out of our trance.
I clamp Maise's shoulders as Mrs. Susie did with me when I got to the barn earlier. "Well, what are we waiting for? We have a lesson to finish!"
***
Monkey is a doll for the rest of the afternoon. He listens to everything Maise says. She canters on his right and left reins and flies as gracefully as a swan. When the time comes for her to try the obstacle course, there are no falls and no Cowboy Massage.
"How was that, Miss Stella?" she asks.
"Beautiful!" I mean what I say. Maise is a fantastic horseback rider, and Monkey is an incredible horse. We're having so much fun that we go over by ten minutes.
Maise's mother appears at the top of the pony ring hill. She joins Mrs. Susie at the bleachers, and they begin to talk. Both of them are beyond proud.
Maise tries the first part of the obstacle course one more time.
"Nice," I say. "You two-pointed a little early, though."
"Got it!" Maise fixes her two-point with the following line of jumps. The correction is incredible.
I take back what I said. Grove Station Farms is not a hell house. It is much more. So many outstanding students strive to do better. The horses have no qualms about this. They want to help us reach our goals. What started as a cursed nineteenth birthday is now a blessing.
I am thrilled to be a Grove Station Farms riding instructor.
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Final Word Count: 5,729
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