The Horse Shoe

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A tender reunion, after a fateful tragedy.
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"Ouch! A rusty horseshoe! Of all the damn things!"

The irony that the very item that was supposed to bring good luck, would now be sending her to the local Doc-in-the-Box for a tetanus shot, was not lost on her. One of the nails had wedged itself deep into the instep, and she winced, reprimanding herself about being old enough to be a grandma and running around barefoot on a beach in her capris.

"Only a fool gets distracted by daydreaming of days long gone. Or was that, nights. It could have been a jelly fish." She grinned wryly as she climbed the wooden stairs, limping back to where she parked her bike above the beach. Her fingertips slipped through the thick strawberry and cream shoulder length mane.

Emma O'Conner, had said goodbye to many things, in this very spot, that fated summer. Her love of horses and the love of her life.

About that time, the island carpenter whom she suspected was the local lothario, rounded the turn and nearly hit her, coming to a stop a dozen yards ahead of her and looking like he had seen a ghost. She tossed the horse shoe in his general direction, missing as she let out a sting of epitaphs that would surely make the church choir giggle, as he backed up beside her.

His soulful brown eyes reflected the depths of his uncomfortableness, like a motorist who was pulled over on the bad side of town. "Eve Emma, step on some glass?"

He tried not to notice the shapely calf, and focus upon her right foot, and the blood tinted white sandal.

"Horseshoe," she uttered flatly. Lifting her chin, her cool blue eyes raked his weathered, yet still boyish, face pleased to see the gray at his temples.

"You know, we got us one of them Opti-moligists from the mainland," he teased. "Might want to pay him a visit soon, if your going to be beach combing."

"Nothing wrong with my eye sight, Frank Turner, I was looking out past the reef. Dolphins."

"I haven't seen dolphins up in these parts in years."

"Then perhaps you're the one that should get your eyes checked."

As if reacting to a challenge, he opened the truck door walking back to her, tipping his straw Stetson-like hat back slightly. "Let me see your hoof, Em..."

At 56 years of age, he was still a site to behold in his boots and blue western plaid shirt with pearl snaps. Truth be told, the wranglers were nice too. Fortunately childhood girlfriends get to the heart of matters and wasted no time in filling in the details just last week, when she returned for good. The most vied for seat at bingo night was next to his. His dance card was always full at the VFW. Desserts arrived upon his porch several nights a week.

Frank nearly smirked at the tension, but turned so she wouldn't see. He always did like Em's best friend. Em looked good. Damn good. Picking up the old shoe he tossed the offending item into the back of the red, Ford truck. Glancing at the bike he picked it up, and gingerly laid it in the bed, before extending a hand to her. "Come on filly-girl lets get you looked at."

He closed the truck door after her, she closed her eyes. He used his name for her. Damn him! They had ridden this stretch of beach 28 years ago, today. Galloping down the beach at the water's edge. A driftwood log lay buried, and the horses hoof had sunk into the rotted timber. 3D was a magnificent animal. Daddy had bet the farm on him, in standing stud. Danver's Dancing Danny had been put down that day. She never rode again, moving to a large mainland teaching hospital only to lose her leg above the knee. Institutional life was appealing. She startled at his words.

"I've thrown 28 horse shoes into that ocean, Emma O'Conner every July 23rd..."

"Next time you go fishing Frank use a hook and a nice pole."

"Brought me luck."

"It wasn't a bad shoeing job, like Daddy told everyone. I got the insurance report, Daddy was supposed to tell you. I heard you married a few years later."

"Felt like it was my fault... Em. Your Daddy told me he would kill me in no uncertain terms if I ever stepped foot on your property. He told me you hated me. I couldn't bring myself to write."

"I know," she murmured softly as she looked out the window. When Daddy became the town drunk, I took my vows. He never was same. He told me about Sally. After several long moments of silence, she glanced sideways and reached down thumping her knuckles against her manmade left leg. I had a good life Frank, and from the looks of things, you have too. As if to prove the point, a turquoise Oldsmobile convertible from the 60's slowly swerved around them passing, four females from 4 to 64 waved to him.

He waved and winked to the youngest passenger, his fingers lightly touching the front of his hat, before turning the charming smile upon Em, fully.

"Younger blonds are too much competition for an ex-nun." She laughed and glanced at the car ahead of them, her fingers waggling at the youngest flirting imp, as she tried to hide her flushing face. Had she really, just said that?

"Well Em. Guilty as charged. I quit shoeing. I kept the hammer and nails though. Sally, took the wreck of a man I was, and loved me till her last breath. She passed four summers ago. Cancer. The girls are all grown up and live on the mainland now." His fingertips reached over and ever so gently brushed her cheek.

"Forgive me?"

"You were my first love, Frank."

"I would like to be your last, but if you think blonds are hard to compete with, try Christ."

"I have a thing for Carpenters."

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AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
Good Storie

This is a good storie line. I hope you keep it going.....

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