(Part 7/9. Klaus in a black polo gives me life.)
The remaining winter days pass much more quickly, and are much warmer than the first three weeks — in a lot of ways.
The day after her visit with Klaus, Minori has a new light in her eyes. She goes to town more; she laughs more; she smiles more. It's a gradual change, surely — but I know that with every passing hour she returns to a more normal state.
We only get one really bad snowstorm, and then, all at once, the air changes.
Minori lets me and the rest of the animals outside — and she's hatched so many chickens I've nearly lost count of them, not to mention we added another sheep and a rabbit named Zuzu — and the moment I leave the confines of the barn I can feel the gentle air of spring.
Hanako and I exchange a glance full of relief. Winter was rough, but Spring —
Spring always holds promise, no matter what kind of Winter you're coming from.
Hanako, speaking of her, handled Eda's death really well. She's old, in cow years, and I think she expected it to happen eventually. I didn't even have to tell her — she seemed to know from the start.
On the second day of spring, Minori drags the barn door open with a bit more difficulty than usual. Propped between her hand and one hip is a saddle.
It's not an ordinary saddle, though — and it's also not the one that smelled like dog urine that she tried to give me almost a year ago. This saddle is polished, good quality, and smells like fresh leather and something — someone — very familiar.
Eda.
Sure enough, a nod from Hanako confirms my thoughts: it seems that Eda's final gift to Minori is the saddle.
Well, I may be stubborn, but I'm not heartless. Minori walks over and allows me to give the saddle a good sniffing. It's in even better condition than I thought — nicer than some of the saddles at Elise's farm. Eda must have been a hardcore horseback rider in her younger days.
So, when Minori goes to put it on my back, I don't pull away. I stand, patiently, as she fixes each buckle and attaches stirrups and adjusts the belts so that they aren't uncomfortable.
That morning, we go for the longest ride we've ever been on. With the new saddle, Minori gets newfound confidence. She was already a fairly good rider to begin with, but I guess the security of stirrups and something to hold on to other than my mane makes it so that she feels better about taking me deeper into the mountain areas, and even past the public fields to the east.
We tread new territory. There's a big clearing that looks nice for grazing, but we follow the river until it pours over the edge of a sharp cliff and turns into a waterfall.
It's a beautiful sight, really — especially in the spring when the snow has just melted so the water swells with extra weight. We stand close to the edge of the cliff for a while. I munch on some grass; Minori takes in the scenery. And I guess I do a little of the latter, too. It's too beautiful to ignore.
On the ride home, I have to admit that the saddle isn't as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. It might have been if Minori had set the straps too tightly, but she's too careful for that. The best part of it is that the chances of her falling off have slimmed, even if she has gotten pretty good at riding bareback.
We don't go all the way back to the farm. Instead, Minori starts leading me with the reins toward town. I happily oblige, and we go past the mountain area and the public fields and finally reach the little cobblestone path.
But, instead of going to the south of town or to the trading area, we take a sharp left at the entrance that leads onto a different path, and a familiar one: the cobblestone path to Elise's farm.
I ease up on the speed a little, tossing my head back to look at Minori. I don't want to assume the worst, but we've never gone to Elise's farm before. Sometimes I see Elise and Minori chatting together (Minori is, after all, friends with everyone), but that's the extent of it.
She isn't about to return me to Elise, is she?
I soon find out I couldn't be more wrong.
We enter Elise's main farm area, and, standing in the middle of the path is not only Elise, but also Klaus.
He's the most dressed down I've ever seen him, donning a simple black polo shirt with a pair of dark wash jeans (I didn't know it was possible for Klaus to wear jeans).
He also looks the youngest I've ever seen him — and that's the first time it strikes me just how much older Klaus is than Minori.
And that's also the first time it all makes sense: the hesitancy, the uncomfortableness that Klaus displays whenever he's around Minori, all of which contrasts so starkly with the obvious affection he feels toward her.
He's in love with her, but he's older and he's embarrassed. I just didn't figure it out until now.
I wonder if Minori knows.
My thoughts are cut off short as Minori takes her leg out of one stirrup, swings it around my back, and dismounts. She brushes her shorts off and gives me a pat on the neck before joining Elise and Klaus at the middle of the path for some talking. I'm still a little on edge about being returned to Elise, but somehow having Klaus there, and wearing a pair of jeans, makes me think that maybe this isn't about me and that it's somehow about him.
Just as I get a strong urge to knock my hoof against the cobblestone, Elise gestures toward a stable on the far end of the field. Minori and Klaus both nod and say something, and, as Klaus and Elise start toward the stable, Minori backtracks toward me and grabs the reins to lead me along with them.
Now I start getting nervous again. I tug against the reins frenetically, desperately wanting to just stay put. Minori doesn't understand; she turns to look at me with confusion darkening her eyes.
I tug against the reins one more time, in what I hope is a clear signal that I want to be left alone.
I don't know if she understands, but Minori laughs a little for a moment and then walks closer to me and leans her head against my flank. She reaches one hand up and strokes my neck, murmuring what sounds like reassurances.
Well, I'm fairly reassured, so when she grabs my reins again to start pulling me toward the stable, I follow — knowing that if it starts looking like I'm about to get returned to Elise I can always make a quick getaway.
That's not what I want, thought — at least, not anymore.
Elise slides open the barn door. I realize for the first time that Rick, the stable man, isn't anywhere to be seen. Elise is doing everything herself.
We follow her and Klaus inside. It's a lot lighter of a stable than I remember — they must have had windows installed — but still not as open as Minori's barn.
I recognize some of the other animals. There are newcomers in the back, though, including a young calf that looks a little like my old friend (and only friend, on this farm) Bessie.
Klaus and Elise move toward the back of the barn, where the horses are kept. I follow Minori, still hesitant but trusting that she won't let anything bad happen.
Elise has four horses — one that I have no memory of, probably my replacement. She's black like pavement, with solid splotches of white on her forehead and her flank.
The rest of the horses I have faint memory of — a bay, like me, a paint, and a little red pony with a white mane. Klaus walks up to the pony and reaches over the stall door to stroke her mane. The pony eases into his sure touch, and then I have my second revelation of the day:
Klaus knows horses. I knew that from the first time I met him in the mountain area last spring, when he did his little pseudo-inspection, and when he was so effective in calming me down during the summer thunderstorm. And, now, I can see it from the way that the red pony likes him so easily.
Maybe Klaus wants a horse?
Minori nudges me with her shoulder. I shift my weight and nudge her forward with my nose. She joins Klaus to pet the red pony, and giggles at something he says in a hushed voice.
Klaus watches Minori intently as she holds her hand out for the horse to smell, and I can see the affection buried in his eyes. It's the first time I actually feel like maybe I shouldn't distrust Klaus as much as I do — especially considering that now I know why he always seems to be leading Minori along. It's not that he's doing it purposefully — in fact, knowing him, he probably beats himself up for it all the time.
Well, what an idiot. Who cares about age gaps anymore, anyway?
Minori eventually turns away from the red pony and spins around slowly to look at each of the other horses in turn. Klaus asks her a question, which she answers by pointing at the black and white horse in the stall closest to me.
Klaus walks over to the stall. He reaches a hand over the stall door again, and the mare walks toward him to meet his touch. From that action alone, I can tell that she's a tame horse — gentle, especially in the way that she raises her head a little so he can rub her nose comfortably.
Minori joins Klaus by the door, but looks over her shoulder to ask Elise a few questions. I catch what I think is a name — Blossom.
I toss my mane away from my eyes and look toward Blossom, the horse, again. She and Klaus seem to be getting along quite well. After a while, Klaus asks Minori another question, and then they both look at me.
There's an awkward pause where I'm not entirely sure what's going on and why they're staring at me, and then I get it: Klaus, for whatever reason, wants my approval.
I toss my head again and take a step closer to Blossom to give her a good sniffing. She returns the gesture. She smells like hay and, fittingly enough, flowers.
Then I pull away, and give a good nicker in an attempt to make it clear that I approve.
Klaus takes his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and hands a few bills over to Elise. He says something and then there's a small deal of commotion, and barely do I realize what's happening before Blossom's all saddled up and ready to go.
Minori leads me out of the stable. Klaus and Blossom follow, with Elise all the way at the back of our little parade.
Once we're outside, Klaus walks over and lets Minori use his hands as a little step-up so that she can mount me with less difficulty.
(Alright, Klaus, I get it — you're adorable and you like her. I'm sorry I judged you.)
Then, Klaus crosses to Blossom and mounts her with an ease I don't think I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of different people mount a lot of different horses. Once he's up on top of Blossom's back, though, his demeanor transforms — he looks nothing short of a dashing knight, albeit a knight in blue jeans and a black polo.
I think Minori is thinking the same thing, because I feel her grip on the reins tighten a little. Looking back at her, I can see the little dusting of pink on her cheeks — and I snort. She shares a secret smile with me, and a bit of warmth blooms in my chest.
A few more words are exchanged between Minori, Klaus, and Elise, and then Minori is squeezing her legs around my stomach and signaling for me to walk. I go forward, and before long, Blossom gets the idea and she and Klaus follow.
Minori and Klaus (I'm not sure who's leading, since we're walking side by side) lead us off of Elise's farm and toward the river area. I learn a lot about Blossom just by walking next to her — not only is she a gentle horse, but she's got a really nice gait. Not to mention she's cheerful, what with the way she tosses her mane and nickers every time a butterfly flutters into view (which, given that it's spring, is about every ten seconds).
The sun has already risen pretty far in the sky by the time we make it past the public fields. Minori takes the lead now, showing Klaus the way that we went just this morning. There isn't really a path through the trees, but we walk a little slower so that Blossom and I can watch out for the stray rocks and branches in our path.
Eventually we come across the clearing I had wanted to graze in that morning, the one just before the waterfall. Klaus casts Minori a mischievous glance and says something teasingly; then, before I know it, Blossom is racing ahead of us, across the field of grass.
Minori laughs, and then gives me a gentle kick in the stomach. She doesn't have to tell me twice. I pick up the pace to a brisk gallop, and we're on Blossom's tail within seconds.
Klaus shouts something to Minori, to which she only acts falsely offended before she says something mocking right back.
Blossom takes a few steps left, and I follow her. She picks up the pace, and I'm on her heels. And just like that, we're all dancing — Blossom and I with our steps, and Klaus and Minori with words and laughter.
This goes on for a while — and then, I suddenly feel a shift in Minori's position on my back. She pulls back on the reins so that I'm forced to falter in my step, to slow down. Her feet slide out of the stirrups, and —
— and then, somehow, she tumbles to the ground.
It's an artistic tumble, if there ever was such a thing. She does it purposefully — I mean, who purposefully tumbles off a horse? — but there's no way she just fell off, especially when she's gotten so good at riding and she has a saddle to keep her secure.
But somehow she ends up on the ground, and then she just lies there. I can't stop my momentum very quickly, so I circle around Blossom once more and then pull up to a stop a couple feet away from Minori.
Blossom notices before Klaus, but as soon as his horse slows down Klaus looks around, and cries out Minori's name. Then his entire disposition darkens as he sees her on the ground: riding helmet strewn to the side, hair splayed out on the grass. Her eyes are closed, her expression blank.
Klaus practically jumps off of his horse, and running over to her as soon as his feet touch the earth. Blossom slows to a halt and stands beside me. We watch the scene unfold.
Klaus calls Minori's name again, but she doesn't respond. He drops to his knees on the ground beside her, looking helpless for a moment as his hands flutter near her cheeks, her forehead — but never touching her.
She can't actually be hurt, can she? She fell purposefully, after all —
Finally, Klaus, gathering courage, pushes hair away from her forehead and rests his hand on her cheek.
He says something in a low, frightened voice, and lowering his head so that it's closer to her face.
Just then, her eyes flutter open. I watch as she smiles gently at him, gaze half-lidded against the bright spring sunshine —
— and then props herself up on one elbow to kiss Klaus very, very lightly on the lips.
Against his mouth, she mumbles a single word — one that I wish, more than anything, I could understand. But before I can even decipher what she might be saying, she leans back on the grass and closes her eyes again.
Klaus looks — angry, for the flash of a second when Minori's eyes open, but when she kisses him the crease in his forehead smooths.
And now —
— and now, as she lowers herself onto the grass again, he smirks like a wolf.
He says something in that voice — the voice he used on Minori's birthday, the one filled with longing — and Minori's eyes snap open. Before she can respond, however, he's on top of her. And I mean that quite literally, as in he moves so that he's straddling her entire body. Only his elbows, which dig into the grass as he props himself up, keep him from crushing her into the ground.
He kisses her — not just a quick, fluttering kiss like the one she gave him moments before, but with simultaneous warmth and roughness; with deep, heart-felt care but also with fierce, burning desire.
He kisses her three times, and then he pauses and lifts his head from hers — probably checking for her consent (because, after all, Klaus is nothing if not a gentleman) — but he already has it. Without missing a beat, Minori grabs a fistful of his shirt and a fistful of his soot-colored hair and pulls him down to meet her again.
Klaus shifts so that he can wrap an arm around Minori's back. In one swift motion, he pulls her from the ground and readjusts so that she can sit in his lap and they aren't as uncomfortable. They don't break apart for a single second, though, and I wonder for the first time if humans somehow have a bigger lung capacity than horses do.
They kiss. A lot. And there's teasing in between the kisses, and joy, and laughter — laughter that warms my heart, because, while there's a lot of pent-up desire in their long-awaited spit-swapping session, there's a lot of love, too.
Love that I didn't understand until Minori stupidly took me in as her horse. Love that I didn't understand until she trained me tirelessly. Love that I didn't understand until she cried outside of Eda's house on a freezing winter morning.
Love that Klaus didn't fully understand, either — until Minori taught him that you're never too old to find it, even when your eyes are tired and you think you know too much.
