A Summer Without Horses Read Online Free Page A

much that meant to Skye.
    When her notebook was full, Ms. Lamport stood up, thanked Skye and then Chris, nodded to Krysti, shook my hand, and left.
    The rest of the evening was both wonderful and too ridiculous for words. Chris was in a huff and was very rude, mostly to poor Krysti. When we went to the ladies’ room together, I expected her to burst into tears. Instead she seemed oblivious, and told me all about the plastic surgery she thought she’d have over the next couple of years. If I don’t recognize her next time I see her, I decided, that’s okay with me.
    As soon as we were done eating, Chris and Krysti left. Skye and I enjoyed the rest of our evening together.When we left Penelope’s—to more flashbulbs and autograph pads—we got in the car, and he and the chauffeur took me on a guided tour of Los Angeles by night. We saw everything from Hollywood Boulevard (very tacky) to Mulholland Drive (breathtaking). It was great and it was over too soon except for the fact that my yawns kept informing me, as well as Skye, that my body thought it was three hours later than the car clock said it was.
    Skye took me back to the hotel, gave me a hug, and put me in the elevator. Mom wanted to hear everything, but I told her she could read about it in the morning. I was in bed and asleep within minutes.

I’ D BEEN JOKING , of course, when I told my mother she could read all about it, but it turned out that it wasn’t a joke at all. I awoke to my mother’s screams.
    “Lisa! Lisa! You won’t believe this! Lisa!” she cried, running into the bedroom from the sitting room and waving a newspaper at me. “Look at this! You’re here and so is Skye!!!”
    I sat bolt upright in bed and looked at the clock. I barely had time to register the fact that it was 7:30 in the morning when the phone rang.
    It was closest to me so I picked it up automatically. “Lisa Atwood, you’re a miracle worker!” declared a familiar voice. “I couldn’t have made it all come out better if I’d done it myself. It’s the old Saddle Club magic, isn’t it? You are something!”
    Through the haze of morning sleepiness, I began to recognize where I was and what was happening. I was in Los Angeles, California, in a hotel with my mother who was hysterical with joy for some reason, still flapping the newspaper in my direction. I was talking on the phone with somebody who loved me. I recognized the voice from somewhere.…
    It came to me. It was Skye. As he went on, the words “newspaper” and “column” and “Lamport” came through strongly enough for me to think that my mother’s actions and Skye’s words were somehow related.
    “Stop! Everybody stop!” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Nancy Lamport’s column,” Skye said. “She wrote up everything I said last night. Listen to this: ‘While some young actors seem more concerned with bizarre techniques that make them look like the professionals that they clearly are not, others, like Skye Ransom, are busy with the business of humanity. This bright, young, handsome star, accompanied by a charming girl named Lisa Atfield’—I’m sorry she got it wrong, Lisa, but that’s the way she spelled it—‘was dining last night at Penelope’s and took time out from a social dinner to tell this reporter about the work he’s doing with chronically ill kids at Dade.’ ”
    Skye took a breath. Mom handed me the newspaper and pointed to the column. It was a big story, two fullcolumns, headed by the words, SKYE RANSOM , HUMANITARIAN . Skye read to me, and I read along, loving every word.
    “Imagine all the good this is going to do!” Skye said.
    Yes, I thought to myself. It’s going to let the world know what a terrific guy Skye is. That wasn’t what Skye had in mind, however.
    “With publicity like this, hundreds, maybe even thousands, more people will come to the charity auction! The kids! It’s going to be great for them. So much money for