Running Barefoot
Page 45
“Did they stand?” I was dumbfounded. I really hadn’t noticed.
Samuel just raised that one eyebrow and looked at me.
I blushed and shrugged. “I really don’t know…”
“Your teacher was the first to stand – Mrs. Grimaldi, right? Everyone just kind of followed her up.”
I giggled, suddenly understanding what Sonja had done. “It’s actually tradition to stand on the Hallelujah Chorus. You see, when the King of England first attended a performance of ‘Messiah,” he was so moved when the Hallelujah Chorus played that he stood up. Apparently, when the King of England stands, everyone stands. I guess Sonja thought Levan should carry on a tradition that’s been in effect for 250 years.”
“You really didn’t notice that everyone was standing almost the entire time you played?” Samuel’s smooth baritone was slightly disbelieving.
His tone made me feel defensive, and I waved my hand as if to brush off his doubts. “You know me, Samuel – I lose myself in the music. By the time I came back to Earth, everyone had probably sat back down.”
My insistence that he ‘knew’ me rang in my ears as he turned back towards Daisy, again without comment, and stroked her long neck. He was acting like we’d never known each other at all. I thought of how often my thoughts had been filled with him over the last two plus years and felt a lump the size of Texas rise up in my throat.
I was distracted from my misery several moments later when Daisy convulsed strongly and a wet nose popped out between her hind quarters. I gasped and the little nose disappeared again as the contraction abated.
“One more and that should do it.” Samuel’s voice was calm and reassuring, but my heart was pounding as I waited for the next contraction to come. Samuel ran his hands down Daisy’s damp flanks, talking softly to her, urging her on.
“One more, girl, one more. You’re almost done,” he soothed. “Here it comes, here we go.”
Moments later, the horse shuddered and her flanks shook as a nose and two hooves came plainly into view, followed by a wet tangle of big ears and wobbly, knobby legs. Samuel helped pull the new colt free, wiping blood and slime off the little fellow with handfuls of straw. Daisy turned her head and butted her awkward offspring gently, prodding as she urged him to his feet, licking and nudging him all the while.
“Way to go, Daisy - Well done girl!” I cried, clapping softly. I realized I was on my feet and there were tears on my face. I wiped them off hastily as I knelt back down and placed a kiss between Daisy’s sweat slicked ears.
“You did it, Samuel!” I grinned at him, my unhappiness forgotten in light of the triumphant birth.
“I didn’t do anything – it was all Daisy,” he replied, but his tone was mild and I could tell he was pleased that it had gone without incident.
I was happily contemplating Christmas names for Daisy’s baby when the sound of a slamming door and boots on gravel carried back to the barn.
“I hope that’s my dad!” I cried out, rising and running for the entrance of the barn. Jacob and Dad had parked the truck around the house and were high tailing it towards the barn when I intercepted them with the happy news. My dad was beside himself with worry and rushed ahead of me in to the barn. I followed him in, sharing details of the morning’s miracle, relating Samuel’s role in the excitement as we approached him where he still perched, balanced on his haunches next to the new colt. He rose smoothly to his feet, wiping his blood stained hands on his jeans before extending a hand apologetically to my dad.
“Congratulations, sir. Sorry about the hand.”
My dad grabbed it, completely unconcerned about shaking the proffered hand. Clapping Samuel on the back, he thanked him for coming to my rescue.
They all talked for a few minutes, admiring the new colt, commenting on this and that, rubbing his floppy ears, and enjoying the Christmas surprise.
“Well Josie,” my dad turned to me suddenly. “I think you and Samuel have earned the right to name the colt. Whaddya think?”
I looked at Samuel expectantly, but he just shrugged, dipping his head in my direction as he deferred to me. “Go ahead, Josie.”
“George Frederic Handel,” I said impulsively.
Jacob and my dad groaned loudly in unison and hooted in laughing protest.
“What the hell kind of name is that, Josie?”
My brother howled.
“He’s a composer!” I cried out, embarrassed and wishing I had taken a minute to think before I blurted out the first thing that came to my head.
A smile played around Samuel’s lips as he joined in the fray. “He wrote the music that Josie played last night at the church service.”
“I just thought the colt should have a Christmas name, and Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus is synonymous with Christmas!” I defended and then cringed as Jacob and my dad burst out laughing again.
My dad wiped tears of mirth from his eyes as he tried to get control of himself.
“We’ll call him Handel,” he choked out. “It’s a very nice name, Josie.” He patted my shoulder, still chuckling. I felt like I was ten years old.
“Well, my grandparents are going to be wondering where I am.” Samuel extended his hand to my father again. “I’d better get cleaned up and be on my way.”
“Thanks again, Samuel,” my dad called after him. Samuel inclined his head politely to me and Jacob, turned, and strode out of the barn.
Samuel just raised that one eyebrow and looked at me.
I blushed and shrugged. “I really don’t know…”
“Your teacher was the first to stand – Mrs. Grimaldi, right? Everyone just kind of followed her up.”
I giggled, suddenly understanding what Sonja had done. “It’s actually tradition to stand on the Hallelujah Chorus. You see, when the King of England first attended a performance of ‘Messiah,” he was so moved when the Hallelujah Chorus played that he stood up. Apparently, when the King of England stands, everyone stands. I guess Sonja thought Levan should carry on a tradition that’s been in effect for 250 years.”
“You really didn’t notice that everyone was standing almost the entire time you played?” Samuel’s smooth baritone was slightly disbelieving.
His tone made me feel defensive, and I waved my hand as if to brush off his doubts. “You know me, Samuel – I lose myself in the music. By the time I came back to Earth, everyone had probably sat back down.”
My insistence that he ‘knew’ me rang in my ears as he turned back towards Daisy, again without comment, and stroked her long neck. He was acting like we’d never known each other at all. I thought of how often my thoughts had been filled with him over the last two plus years and felt a lump the size of Texas rise up in my throat.
I was distracted from my misery several moments later when Daisy convulsed strongly and a wet nose popped out between her hind quarters. I gasped and the little nose disappeared again as the contraction abated.
“One more and that should do it.” Samuel’s voice was calm and reassuring, but my heart was pounding as I waited for the next contraction to come. Samuel ran his hands down Daisy’s damp flanks, talking softly to her, urging her on.
“One more, girl, one more. You’re almost done,” he soothed. “Here it comes, here we go.”
Moments later, the horse shuddered and her flanks shook as a nose and two hooves came plainly into view, followed by a wet tangle of big ears and wobbly, knobby legs. Samuel helped pull the new colt free, wiping blood and slime off the little fellow with handfuls of straw. Daisy turned her head and butted her awkward offspring gently, prodding as she urged him to his feet, licking and nudging him all the while.
“Way to go, Daisy - Well done girl!” I cried, clapping softly. I realized I was on my feet and there were tears on my face. I wiped them off hastily as I knelt back down and placed a kiss between Daisy’s sweat slicked ears.
“You did it, Samuel!” I grinned at him, my unhappiness forgotten in light of the triumphant birth.
“I didn’t do anything – it was all Daisy,” he replied, but his tone was mild and I could tell he was pleased that it had gone without incident.
I was happily contemplating Christmas names for Daisy’s baby when the sound of a slamming door and boots on gravel carried back to the barn.
“I hope that’s my dad!” I cried out, rising and running for the entrance of the barn. Jacob and Dad had parked the truck around the house and were high tailing it towards the barn when I intercepted them with the happy news. My dad was beside himself with worry and rushed ahead of me in to the barn. I followed him in, sharing details of the morning’s miracle, relating Samuel’s role in the excitement as we approached him where he still perched, balanced on his haunches next to the new colt. He rose smoothly to his feet, wiping his blood stained hands on his jeans before extending a hand apologetically to my dad.
“Congratulations, sir. Sorry about the hand.”
My dad grabbed it, completely unconcerned about shaking the proffered hand. Clapping Samuel on the back, he thanked him for coming to my rescue.
They all talked for a few minutes, admiring the new colt, commenting on this and that, rubbing his floppy ears, and enjoying the Christmas surprise.
“Well Josie,” my dad turned to me suddenly. “I think you and Samuel have earned the right to name the colt. Whaddya think?”
I looked at Samuel expectantly, but he just shrugged, dipping his head in my direction as he deferred to me. “Go ahead, Josie.”
“George Frederic Handel,” I said impulsively.
Jacob and my dad groaned loudly in unison and hooted in laughing protest.
“What the hell kind of name is that, Josie?”
My brother howled.
“He’s a composer!” I cried out, embarrassed and wishing I had taken a minute to think before I blurted out the first thing that came to my head.
A smile played around Samuel’s lips as he joined in the fray. “He wrote the music that Josie played last night at the church service.”
“I just thought the colt should have a Christmas name, and Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus is synonymous with Christmas!” I defended and then cringed as Jacob and my dad burst out laughing again.
My dad wiped tears of mirth from his eyes as he tried to get control of himself.
“We’ll call him Handel,” he choked out. “It’s a very nice name, Josie.” He patted my shoulder, still chuckling. I felt like I was ten years old.
“Well, my grandparents are going to be wondering where I am.” Samuel extended his hand to my father again. “I’d better get cleaned up and be on my way.”
“Thanks again, Samuel,” my dad called after him. Samuel inclined his head politely to me and Jacob, turned, and strode out of the barn.
