“Excellent!” he proclaimed. “You’re a natural.”

How can I be a natural? Rose wondered. I’m not even on the horse yet!

But she liked the process. There was a quiet orderliness to it. She found it almost soothing. And Ivy herself was patient—she seemed, in her wordless way, to understand her.

Rose’s legs were long and she didn’t need a mounting block. She easily slipped her foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Peter led her from the barn into a ring. After her new teacher went over the basic positions of how to sit in the saddle, she flexed her heels down in the stirrups and began to walk Ivy around the circle. Toward the end of the hour, she trotted a bit.

“Amazing!” Peter called out. “I’m not even going to have to teach you to post. You’re already doing it. Posting.”

“Posting?” Rose asked as she pushed up in the stirrups. “What’s that?”

“What you’re doing right now.” Rose felt the locket thumping softly against her breastbone each time she rose from the saddle.

“You’ve got the rhythm and everything. A natural, isn’t she, Lisa?”

Lisa! Lisa was watching her! Rose felt herself suddenly bobble and bounce wildly in the saddle, losing her balance. I’m going to fall . . . I’m going to fall! She gripped with her knees and tried to tuck her butt more firmly into the saddle.

“Great recovery!” Peter shouted. “Slow to a walk and bring Ivy to the center of the ring.”

Peter walked over to her and slapped the calf of her boot. “Great first lesson. Wonderful instincts, Rose. Most new riders yank on the reins if they begin to lose their balance. Always a bad mistake. You handled it like a pro. Gripped with your knees and settled deeper into the saddle. Don’t know what happened back there, myself. Because you seemed to have hit the sweet spot of Ivy’s rhythm. Hard thing to do on the first lesson. So did Ivy spook a bit? I didn’t catch it.”

No, don’t blame Ivy. I spooked, Rose wanted to answer. Spooked by Lisa. But she said nothing. Her heart was still racing and yet she wasn’t frightened. An odd sort of joy pulsed through her.

“There must have been some great riders in your past. You’ve got the genes.”

“Really?” She turned to Peter and smiled. It felt almost strange to smile. A foreign sensation. It had been so long.

Peter led her back to the barn. There was a boy carrying a saddle.

“Hey, Jamie, this is Rose. Could you help her dismount and show her how to brush Ivy down?”

“Sure, Pete.”