Riding. Ivy’s heart was jumping in her throat as she looked at the massive black horse in front of her. It snorted and stomped its hoof impatiently on the pavement. There was no way she was climbing on the back of that beast. Horses hated her, and she hated horses. It was a mutual distrust.
“Uh, can someone tell me what that is?”
Gloria, who had been giving a pep talk to a couple of students from the marching band, turned around to face Ivy. She looked in the direction Ivy was pointing with a confused look on her face. “It’s a horse, dear.”
“Thank you for that clarification,” she said, unable to shelf the sarcasm even for her favorite teacher in school as she panicked. “Why are we riding horses? No one said anything about riding horses. When you said we’d be in the parade, I envisioned us waving from the back of a convertible. Not on horseback.”
“Uh-oh,” Blake said, coming up to them from the parking lot where the parade was starting. “Sounds like the city girl is a little rusty on her horseback riding skills.”
Ivy sighed and put her hands on her hips. “I am not rusty. I never had them to begin with, so they couldn’t possibly be rusty.”
Gloria paled slightly at her words. “You’ve never ridden a horse?”
“Some kids can’t afford horseback riding lessons, you know? The closest I’ve gotten was a pony ride at a birthday party when I was six.”
“But wait,” Blake said, his brow furrowed in thought. “I distinctly remember a music video of yours with you riding down the beach on a horse.”
“That was a stunt rider,” Ivy admitted.
“Well, I really wish someone had mentioned this,” Gloria complained.
“I would have, gladly, if someone had told me this was what we were doing. Why are we riding horses, anyway? Shouldn’t we be on some float made of crepe paper or something?”
Gloria sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Whittaker Farms is sponsoring the event today. They made a huge donation to the cause and in exchange, they wanted you and Blake to ride their horses in the parade. It was good advertising for them since the parade is being broadcast on the local station and on Birmingham networks. You two are our stars, so of course the clips most likely to air will have you in them.”
Even better. Not only was it a horse, it was a horse that was somehow tied to Lydia. The beast would probably buck her off on principle.
“We’re walking down Main Street at two miles an hour. I think you can handle it.”
Ivy frowned at Blake. His words were meant to be supportive, but she just didn’t believe him. There was press everywhere. She could just imagine the fun they’d poke at her expense if her horse bucked or veered off course to eat the petunias out of the flowerbeds.
“I’ll be right beside you,” Blake said, reaching out to take her hand. “You’ll do great.”
Ivy looked up at him and this time found confidence in the depths of his baby-blue eyes. “Okay,” she agreed. Then she turned back to Gloria. “Any other livestock involved this week?”
“No,” she said with a quick shake of her head.
“Any other major details or things of note that people have neglected to tell me?”
“No,” Gloria repeated. “After the dance tonight, it should be smooth sailing until the concert.”
“That’s if I don’t fall off and break my leg,” Ivy muttered under her breath. “Whittaker Farms better be insured.”
Gloria smiled nervously and turned back to talk to the firemen who had just pulled up with the ladder truck.
“It will be fine, Ivy.” With her hand still in his, Blake led her over to the two horses. A teenage boy with a Whittaker Farms T-shirt was holding their reins. One horse was big and black as midnight with a white stripe down his nose. The other was a little smaller and a milky gray color with a long white mane. “Hey, Coach Chamberlain,” the boy said.
“Hey, Thomas. Ivy, you remember Lydia’s little brother, Thomas, don’t you?”
Ivy looked at the teenage boy for a minute, remembering that Lydia’s mother had had a baby when they were in fourth grade. It seemed impossible that the tiny baby she remembered was actually the high school senior standing in front of her, but she could see the family resemblance.
“Yes,” Ivy said with a polite smile. “Hi there.”
“Who are we riding today?” Blake asked.
“Well, this big brute here is Angus,” Thomas said as he gestured to the large black horse. “And this is Willow,” he said about the smaller gray mare.
“Which one am I riding?” Ivy asked with large eyes.