With the Wind | A Short Novel (3 page)

Since the incident in the barn on the day of her engagement party one thing was certain – a measure of joy had returned to her life. 

She wasn't sure why, but this beautiful Russian horse whisperer was an important part of her improved disposition.

At night when Misty turned off the light and lay in her bed she could see Daniel looking down at her, begging her to be happy, to live. 

This was the first time Misty had seen Daniel with his shirt off.  He was muscular; in a smooth, toned way.  Standing there in the corral in his jeans and boots and light brown skin glistening in the sun Misty had to try hard not to stare.  She was thankful that her mirror shades concealed her not so platonic intentions.  

“Mr. Anthony, I not so…”  Jose was ready to step into the ring and end this demonstration before Daniel got hurt.

“No, Jose.  Let him try,” Anthony ordered.

Daniel led Sweet Pea over to the saddle. 

He showed it to her as he continued to speak softly to the horse, as if he was explaining exactly what he intended to do. 

When he let the rein go, Jose and Anthony winced. 

They expected Sweet Pea to react, to bolt. 

Sweet Pea stood there, attentive and still.  Daniel brought the saddle up to her nose and allowed her to sniff it. 

“He’s getting her approval,” Misty chimed in.  “He’s asking her for permission to ride her.”

“I think you’re right, honey.  I’m amazed.  I’ve never seen anyone work a horse like that,” Anthony replied.

Sweet Pea stood there and allowed Daniel to put the saddle on her back and cinch it.  Before he mounted her, Daniel crossed himself and kissed the crucifix that was hanging from his neck on a leather strap.

              The horse reacted, but not violently. 

             
She pulled up and danced around, not at all sure what was going on, but she did not panic. 

             
Daniel didn’t yank hard on the reins or try and force her to calm down.  He gripped the horse firmly with his legs and continued to speak to Sweet Pea and stroke her neck.

             
After a few minutes Daniel was riding her around the corral and Sweet Pea was responding to his gentle commands.  She was well on her way to being saddle broWilson and therefore useful to the winery.

             
Daniel dismounted the horse in front of Anthony, Misty and Jose.  He spoke to the animal once more and gave her a sugar cube.

             
“Say hello to Sweet Pea please, Misty,” Daniel asked.

             
“No, Daniel.  Thank you.  Horses and I don’t get along.”

             
Daniel smiled.  “Not this horse.  She like you very much.”

             
“She told you this?” Misty said, laughing.

             
“Yes.  Do you believe me?”

             
“Will you hold her tight?”

             
“Yes, no worry.  Sweet Pea just want to say hello.”

             
Misty then leaned over the fence and touched Sweet Pea on the nose.  The horse inched a bit closer, so Misty stroked the mare’s head with both hands.

             
“She like these,” Daniel said, giving Misty a couple of sugar cubes.

             
Misty fed Sweet Pea the cubes and then the horse leaned over and nuzzled Misty on the face, startling her.

             
“Horse kiss,” Daniel said, as he turned and led Sweet Pea back to the barn.  “Told you that she like you.”

             
“Two miracles in one day,” Anthony pronounced.  “Daniel saved Sweet Pea from the glue factory and my daughter actually touched a horse.”

             
Misty’s heart was racing. 

             
Who was this man?  He made her feel like she had never felt before, alive and happy and free inside. 

             
Isn’t this how Wilson is supposed to make me feel? Misty silently asked herself. 

             
Somehow this young Russian boy had turned her world completely around in a few days.  He had done this without being able to utter a complete sentence in English.

             
“Not for long”, Misty whispered, loud enough for her father to hear.

             
“Say something dear?” Anthony asked.

             
“No Father,” Misty said, as she kissed him on the cheek. “I’m going into Forest Hills for a few hours.”

             
“Shopping?”

             
“Yes, you know.  A girl can never have enough shoes.”

             
Misty wouldn’t be shopping for shoes today. 

             
She was headed to a bookstore to buy a textbook. 

             
She desperately needed to get to know Daniel Novikov and the only way that could happen was if she taught him how to speak English. 

CHAPTER SIX

              “Where have you been?” Wilson asked accusingly.

             
“In town.  Why?  Did I miss some…Oh my God.  Wilson, I am so sorry.  Is she still here?” Misty answered.

             
“Martha left an hour ago.  Do you have any idea how difficult it is to engage Martha Press for a wedding?  Why was your phone off?”

             
“I never switched it on all day.  I feel terrible.”

             
“You should.  Anthony said you went after shoes.  Please tell me that it was something far more significant than the latest Jimmy Choo offering that cost us our chance to hire Martha Press.”

             
“I got lost in the bookstore reading bride’s magazines.  Before I knew it …”

             
“What’s this I hear?” Anthony said, as entered the room perspiring heavily and covered in dust.  “What happened with Martha Press?”

             
“I missed the appointment, Daddy.  I was apologizing to Wilson.”

             
“Well, I guess I should be grateful.  That woman is very expensive and to me a picture is a picture.”

             
Wilson sighed.  “Anthony, please.  That’s just not the case wi…”

             
“What’s plan B?”

             
“There is no plan B,” Wilson admitted.  “Martha was my only option.  I’ll be starting from scratch.”

             
“It was my mistake.  I’ll find us a wedding photographer, honey.  Maybe if I beg and plead Martha will change her mind and see us again.”

             
“No chance of that.  She handed me a bill for two hours of her time and stormed out.”

             
“You have a professional photographer on the premises.  He could help you pick the best candidate, Misty.”

             
“Who?”

             
“Your Russian friend, Mr. Novikov.”

“What are you talking about?”  Misty’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name.

“Daniel told me that he came to America to be a photographer’s assistant in San Francisco.  When the man died unexpectedly he had to find other work and he eventually made it here.”

“I wondered what his story was, I knew that …”

“Honestly, Anthony.  Daniel is not qualified to select our wedding photographer.”

“I think Daniel will surprise you, Wilson,” Misty argued.  “I’ll pick the photographer; Daniel can help me.”

“It might be courteous to ask Mr. Novikov if he would be willing to assist you before you enlist him for this duty,” Anthony said.

“Invite the boy for dinner,” Wilson suggested.

“That’s a great idea,” Misty agreed, beaming.

********

              Daniel came to dinner dressed in the best clothes he had – a pair of khakis and a black silk shirt that while intact had seen better days.

             
Misty thought Daniel looked very handsome.

             
She arranged it so that she could sit next to him at the table. 

             
Her form fitting grey skirt and low cut light yellow top said, “I want to be noticed.”

             
And not by Wilson.

             
“Daniel, why don’t you tell us about your background in photography?” Anthony asked after the aperitifs were served.

             
“My parents from Moscow.  Father a chemist at University.  Mother a nurse.  My dedushka, grandparent, worked on farm south of city.  I spent many summertime working on farm.”

             
“Photography?” Misty asked.

             
“I love pictures since small child.  Learn to develop, print, whole thing.  Get better cameras as get older.  Learn more.  Take pictures for Russian magazine.”

             
“Have you taWilson wedding pictures?” Wilson asked, pronouncing his words slowly and deliberately.

             
“Wedding, ah…svad'ba pictures.”  Daniel took a bite of his sorbet.  “Yes, more than one time.  Last time sister’s wedding in St. Petersburg.”

             
“Where are cameras?” Wilson asked, in a condescending tone.

             
“Cameras, yes.  Must sell cameras brought to U.S.  Need money for food.”

             
“Do you have any of the pictures you took that were published in the Russian magazine?” Anthony asked.

             
“I have magazine, yes.”

             
As the butler was clearing the sorbet dishes and preparing to serve the salad, Daniel removed a file folder from his tattered case.  He took the magazine out of its protective sleeve and handed it to Misty.

             
“
Russian Life
,” Misty said, as she looked over the magazine.  “Do many people read it?”

             
“Largest circulation in Russia,” Daniel answered.              “Maksim’s Farm, that is English translation of name of article.  Maksim was my dedushka .”

             
The piece began with a haunting black and white silhouette of a grain silo framed against a dusky sky.  Every picture was animated and unique, taWilson by someone with a keen eye for contrast and angles.  A picture of Maksim leaning against a barn door was particularly outstanding.

             
“Your grandfather?” Misty asked.

             
“Yes, my dedushka.  He and I very close.  He die three years ago.  It was him who told me come to America and work for Mr. Simkalo and become best photographer possible.”

             
“I’m sold,” Misty said, handing the magazine to her father.

             
“More than good enough for me,” Anthony concurred without bothering to look at the photos. He handed the magazine to Wilson.

             
“You no have wedding photos?” Wilson asked.  His tone had crossed the line into offensive.

             
“Wilson, Daniel understands English.  You don’t have to talk down to him like he’s a toddler.” 

             
“Misty, dear.  I apologize.  I don’t wish to offend your friend, but we are asking Mr. Novikov to be responsible…”

             
“To be responsible for absolutely nothing, Wilson.  He can obviously evaluate photography,” Anthony interjected.  “Daniel, would you help Misty hire a good wedding photographer?”

             
“Help her?”

             
“Help me find a good photographer,” Misty said, as she touched Daniel gently on his arm.