gaze followed the black-and-white mare as she moved lazily around the enclosure, new baby at her feathered heels. The Gypsies were the most beautiful horses Gina had ever seen. Their broad shoulders, proud neck and the “feathers,” or long, delicate hairs flying around their feet, looked exquisite. Most people, of course, took one look at the breed and thought…miniature Clydesdales. But the Gypsy horses were something else entirely.
Relatively small, but sturdy, the Gypsies had at first been bred by the roaming people who gave them their name. They were bred to be strong enough to pull loaded carts and wagons and gentle enough to be considered part of the family. They were exceptionally gentle with children and incredibly loyal to those they loved.
The horses, to Gina, were more than animals to be bred and sold…they were family.
“You baby them.”
Gina didn’t even turn when her mother spoke up from behind her. This was a long-standing argument—with her mother claiming that Gina spent too much time with the horses and too little time looking for a husband. “There’s no harm in that.”
“You need your own babies.”
Gina rolled her eyes, grateful her mother couldn’t see the action. Teresa Torino didn’t care how old her children were. If they sassed, they were just as likely to get a swat on the back of the head as they had been when they were children. If she’d had any sense at all, Gina told herself, she’d have moved away like two of her three older brothers had.
“I know you’re rolling your eyes….”
Grinning, Gina glanced back over her shoulder. Teresa Torino was short, curvy and opinionated. Her black hair was going gray and she didn’t bother dyeing it, instead reminding everyone in the family that she’d earned those gray hairs. Her chin was stubborn and her brown eyes were sharp and didn’t miss much.
“Would I roll my eyes at you, Mom?”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “If you thought you could get away with it, yes.”
Gina lifted her face into a soft wind blowing in off the nearby ocean and changed the subject. Safer that way. “I heard you talking on the phone to Nick this morning. Everything all right?”
“Yes,” Teresa said, walking up to join her daughter at the split rail fence. “Your brother Nickie’s wife is pregnant again.”
Ah. So this explained the let’s get Gina married and pregnant theme of the morning. “That’s great news.”
“Yes. That will be three for Nick, two children for Tony and four for Peter.”
Her brothers were really doing all they could to repopulate the world with Torinos, Gina thought with a smile. She loved being an aunt, of course. But she wished they all lived closer, so they could take more of the heat off of her. Yet of the three Torino sons, only Tony lived here on the ranch, working it with their father. Nick was in Colorado, coaching high school football and Peter was in Southern California, installing computer software for security companies.
“You’re a lucky nana to have so many grandbabies to spoil,” Gina said, sliding a glance at her mother.
“Could be luckier,” Teresa countered with a sniff.
“Mom…” Gina couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped from her. “You’ve got eight and a half grandchildren. You don’t need me to produce one.”
Her mother had always dreamed of Gina’s wedding day. Of seeing her only daughter walk down the aisle on her father’s arm. The fact that Gina hadn’t complied didn’t sit well with Teresa.
“It’s not good for you to be alone, Gina,” her mother said, slapping one hand against a board hard enough to make the fence rattle.
“I’m not alone,” Gina argued. “I’ve got you and Papa, my brothers, their wives, their kids. Who could ever be alone in this family?”
Teresa, though, was on a roll. The music of her still-thick Italian accent colored her words when she spoke again. “A woman should have a man in her life, Gina. A man to love and be loved by…”
Gina felt her back go up, even though a part of her agreed with her mother. It wasn’t as if she’d gone out of her way to decide to never get married. To never have children. It’s just the way things had worked out. And she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life being miserable because of it.
“Just because I’m not married, Mom,” Gina interrupted, “that doesn’t mean I don’t have men in my life.”
Teresa sucked air in through her nose in a disapproving sniff that was so loud, one of the horses in the meadow turned its head to investigate. “I don’t want to know about that.”
Good, because Gina didn’t really want to talk about her love life—or lack thereof—with her mother. She loved her parents dearly, she really did. Teresa had been born into a huge Sicilian family and had come to America more than forty years ago to marry Sal Torino. And despite the fact that Sal had been born and raised in America, he tended to side with his wife when she clung to Old World values—namely, that daughters who hadn’t found husbands by their thirtieth birthday were destined to be old maids.
Sadly, Gina’s thirtieth birthday had come and gone two months ago.
“Mom…” Gina took a breath, blew it out and prayed for patience. She’d hoped that having her own small house built on the family ranch would give her more privacy. Would make her parents think of her as a capable adult. She should have known better. Once a Torino child, always a Torino child.
Maybe she should have just moved away from the ranch entirely. But even if she had, she’d have been spending every day here anyway, since the Gypsy horses she raised and trained were her life. So she’d simply have to find a way to deal with being her mother’s great disappointment.
“I know, I know,” Teresa said, holding up one hand as if to stave off a familiar argument. “You are a grown woman. You don’t need a man to complete you.” She gave an impatient huff. “I should never have let you watch those talk shows when you were growing up. They fill your head with—”
“—sense?” Gina offered, smiling. She did love her mom, it was just so aggravating having to apologize for not being married and/or pregnant all the damn time.
“Sense. Is it sense to live alone? To not have love in your life? No,” Teresa snapped, not waiting for an answer. “It is not.”
It would be easier to argue with her mom if a part of Gina didn’t agree. Okay, a small part. But a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered that she wasn’t getting any younger. That she should give up on old fantasies that should have died years ago.
Yet somehow…she couldn’t quite manage it.
“I’m fine, Mom,” she said, willing herself to believe it.
Teresa laid one hand on her daughter’s forearm and gave her a pat. “Of course you are.”
Okay, Gina was willing to accept that, even if her mom was placating her. At least it had stopped the conversation. “Where’s Papa?” she asked. “He was going to come look over
