Burton Road
An idea comes to life. Or does it?
Previously on Between Corners: Charlotte and Christopher have a long conversation over coffee.
My car was parked a block away from Café 508. As I walked toward it, I turned around once and caught a glimpse of Christopher before he veered left onto Neches Street.
His touch lingered on my shoulders.
I got in the Ranger, turned the key, and cranked up the AC. It was a warm late morning. And two lattes – way more than my usual coffee consumption. My stomach burned. I felt edgy.
I shifted into drive, turned on the blinker, glanced back, pulled into traffic. Cars shimmered in the rising heat. A bus exhaled as it dropped down to take on a passenger. Someone honked. I fished my sunglasses out of my bag and put them on.
The therapy center was 25 minutes away. I had only 20 to get there before my first client. I had stayed at coffee too long. But I enjoyed talking with Christopher. He asked questions. Listened.
I liked his eyes. Brown. They paid attention. To me.
I pressed on the accelerator, then hit a red light. I looked at the dashboard clock and felt a lurch of impatience. I remembered what Christopher said, that I was building something with the therapy center. And something I couldn’t quite recall. Something about a vision.
Maybe that was it. But it sounded ridiculous. Douglas would laugh. He hated that kind of stuff. Too mystical. He liked things that were real. Iron skillets. Airstreams. Welds.
I remembered how I started. I’d always been around horses. But my niece and her problems had gotten me thinking about how to help her.
Somebody passed me. I adjusted my sunglasses.
Douglas had given me a push – when I first met him, when he was working with my dad. I’d been standing at a paddock when he walked by. It was a hot afternoon. We got to talking and he said dad had mentioned me to him. Dad had said I was bright but seemed to need a push.
That conversation had been the push.
So now what?
I thought of more Burton Road centers, red cursive lettering on cream-white background. Or a dozen horses, four or five therapists, 100 clients. Right where I was now. I thought I had heard of places that did that – started small and grew large.
The high-rise look of downtown devolved into billboards, strip malls, and taco trucks. It still was hot and humid inside the Ranger.
What would I want to do?
Then…
The tires jumped over a pothole.
A moment of clarity.
I had thought of this before. I had looked for a place like this, back when I started. A place to find my footing, learn, and gain confidence. I hadn’t been able to locate one.
A training center.
A training center for other equine therapists.
My heart thumped a little. Perhaps from the caffeine. Perhaps not.
I wanted to matter. Make a difference.
That embarrassed me. I still was learning, myself. No one outside of a small slice of Austin knew I existed. Who could I train?
Lots of people. I knew plenty.
But others knew more – of course they did.
I saw Christopher drinking coffee. Douglas welding. Horses, clients, a summer storm. I looked at the speedometer. Fifty. My eyes snagged on something. Brake lights. Traffic cones.
I slammed on the brakes. The Ranger’s nose pitched down as the ABS kicked in, making the truck judder. I squealed to a stop behind a big silver Chevy pickup, its tailgate looming over me. “Heavy Duty” was stamped on its steel.
Two feet to spare. Perhaps less.
For a minute, my heart hammered. Really hammered.
After five minutes, I began to roll again. Watchful, now.
I took a breath, tried to calm down. My hands were sweaty on the wheel.
I saw myself talking to people.
Traffic thinned, and I passed stands of cedar and oak.
At last, I turned onto Burton Road. Fences on each side of the road. A lizard skittered along a rail, its scales glittering in the sun. The road had been paved at one time. Now, mostly gravel. I’d have to fix that, or nobody would even get as far as the barn.
The familiar barn. The sun glinting off its metal roof. Molly leading a horse inside. One of our new ones – a brown mare named Dynamo.
I tried to see it as a stranger might. And I realized what I had here wasn’t all that much. Three older horses. A small barn that I didn’t even own. A barn already full of three horses and my little desk in the corner.
The bags of feed stacked outside, where it shouldn’t be, because we lacked space. The leaking hose bib. The warped siding boards.
My shoulders sagged.
I parked, and walked to the barn. I could smell the horses, the dust from the paddock.
I had two clients that afternoon. Sarah, a regular, and a new one. Elizabeth.
“Hey Charlotte,” Molly said as she led Dynamo to a stall. “We’re getting low on hay. And the vet called – we’re behind on our bill.”
“I’ll order hay.”
Sarah was already there, sitting patiently in a corner, adorable in her pink riding cap with unicorn decals. “Hey Sarah, I’m sorry I’m late – just give me a minute.”
“It’s OK,” she said.
I grabbed some saltines from my desk and wolfed them down to settle my aching stomach.
Sarah and I had put in seven or eight sessions. She was a sweet girl – 10 or so. And she reminded me of my niece. Her motor skills weren’t all that good. I helped her put the halter on Daisy, brush her, walk her around the paddock.
Sarah liked to talk. Usually, I listened. Today I let her words flow around me.
“Charlotte…” I heard Sarah say in a small voice. Her brown eyes looked up at me.
“Yes, honey?” I said.
I realized she had been talking to me for at least a minute and I hadn’t heard a word.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
I shook my head to clear it.
“Of course not,” I said. “I was just thinking about something.”
Sarah nodded.
“I asked you a question.”
I crouched down, so we were at eye level. Put my hand on her shoulder.
“What was your question, Sarah?”
Such a sweet face.
“How am I doing?”
“With Daisy?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re doing fine, honey.”
We walked around the paddock some more.
The air was warm and still.
Daisy looked at me.
Next: Crystal Gel