Fall With Me

possibly make this summer anything but normal.
    And for that, I am grateful.
     
    I join Bill and Lorrie at their house for dinner, and we sit out on the back deck overlooking the barn and the paddocks.
    “How is your mom?” Lorrie asks as she scoops quinoa salad onto my plate. “I’m going to try to get up there in the next week or so. I feel terrible I haven’t been better at visiting.”
    “We know you’re busy,” I say. “And she’s doing the best she can. I’m going to try to see her every Sunday, if that’s okay with you guys.”
    “Of course it is,” Bill says. “Take whatever time you need. I mean, you’re certainly an integral part of the ranch around here, but family first.”
    “Speaking of family,” Lorrie says, “Allison has decided to work here this summer. We’re hoping you can kind of take her under your wing. She’s familiar with a lot of the stuff, obviously, but I’m sure she’ll have plenty of questions.”
    I force a smile. “Great,” I say. “I’d be happy to help.”
    Allison is their daughter, the baby of the family, who, in my mind, will forever be eight and throwing a tantrum about something. The past few summers she worked up in the city at some retail job in Union Square, and I wonder what must have happened to make her resign herself to work here. She’s not exactly the outdoors-y type, though it’s been a while since I’ve seen her so perhaps things have changed.
     
    I get my answer bright and early the next morning. During the summer, I get up at six every day except for Sundays. I go down to the barn and feed the horses, turn them out, then muck out the stalls before going to the lodge to help with breakfast. I don’t mind getting up early, when it’s still semi-dark out and the birds are the only things awake. I like that special time—early in the morning and twilight—when the sun could be about to rise or set. I fill an oversized travel mug with strong, hot coffee and sip it as I go about my work. I’m just finishing up the last stall when I hear someone walking down the barn aisle.
    “Hi, Jill.”
    I don’t have to turn to know who that voice belongs to. Yet, I do turn, and there she is, all five feet two of her. She’s got a great body, even though she’s short, a fact that she’s well aware of and—based on what she’s wearing—clearly uses to her advantage. She has always been someone who’s gotten what she wants.
    “Hi, Allison,” I say. I dump another pitchforkful of manure into the wheelbarrow. She takes a step back so the errant bits of shavings don’t mar her impeccable outfit: a peach-colored romper with gold sandals that lace up her tanned calves.
    “Mom and Dad probably told you already,” she says. “But I’m a junior counselor this year. Second in command only to you.”
    “Excellent,” I say. “Glad to see you came dressed to work.”
    She laughs. “Well, I’m actually heading over to the lodge right now to help get things set up for the arrivals. But I wanted to come find you and say hi and give you the good news. I really think it’s going to be a lot of fun, us both being counselors.”
    I stop shoveling shit for a second and look at her. I am seven inches taller than she is and it’s hard not to see her as a kid, an annoying little sister, even though she’s seventeen. She’s got silver hoops in her ears and pale pink blush on her cheeks.
    “Did your parents happen to go over with you exactly what it means to be a counselor?” I ask. “Did they give you any of the details?”
    “Well . . . sort of. I think they thought you’d go over most of it. Since you’ve been here so long, and everything.”
    “One of the main jobs is the upkeep of the horses. So that means getting down here by six o’clock in the morning and helping muck out stalls, feed, and scrub water buckets. Brandon isn’t coming back this year, either, so there’s another new counselor onboard, too.”
    “Yeah, Karen or something. Well, maybe she’ll be more of a morning person and she’ll want to get up early and do the horse chores and I can take the late morning shift.”
    I go back to mucking out the stall so I can roll my eyes without detection. “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll be totally open for that,” I say. “She’ll be here around ten, so maybe that’s something you can talk to her about.”
    “Awesome!” Allison says, completely missing—or ignoring—the sarcasm in my voice. “I’ll be sure it’s one of the