When Adelaide falls from her horse in the paddock near home, her mother freaks out. But not without cause: Adelaide’s terminal illness grows worse by the day, eating away at her energy, her body—and her independence.
But that’s nothing compared to the tragedy that happens next in the paddock, a tragedy that threatens everything Adelaide holds dear.
Inspired by Greek mythology, Sea Foam and Blood reminds readers of the importance of self-determination in crafting a better future for ourselves.
Sea Foam & Blood
Adelaide laughed as Anchor cleared the jump with room to spare. She lined him up for the final obstacle.
Her side twinged.
She clenched her teeth and ignored it. Just one more jump. She rocked back and forth in time with Anchor’s smooth canter, and her side caught again. She sucked her breath in sharply.
Adelaide aimed Anchor straight at the jump, judged the take-off and tapped him gently with her heel. He flew over the jump.
Adelaide didn’t.
From the pathway up to the house, her mother screamed.
How typical of Mum to appear now. Adelaide groaned and sat up, winded but otherwise fine. She grabbed the jump and hauled herself to her feet.
“Stop!” her mother called. “Lie back down right now!”
Adelaide rolled her eyes but did as she was told. She lay down and breathed in the grassy smell of the paddock. The evening dew was settling and the air smelled fresh and clean. Almost as good as—horse.
She grinned as a noseful of warm horsey air announced Anchor’s arrival. He snuffed her face, tickling her with his whiskers and nickering.
Inhaling the comforting smell of horse sweat and partially-digested grains, Adelaide raised a hand to his cheek. “Hey, gorgeous. What’s doing?”
Satisfied that she was all right, Anchor raised his head. His ears flicked as he watched her mother approach.
Adelaide sighed as he backed away. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt caught between the two of them. Their peace with each other had been uneasy since the day Anchor had arrived.
Her mother knelt by her side. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Mum, I’m fine.”
“Do you hurt here? What about here?”
Adelaide tried to sit up, but her mother’s insistent hands held her down. “Mum, honest, I’m fine.”
“How many fingers?”
“Two hundred.”
“Funny. Any blurriness of vision? Head pain? Dizziness? Blacking out?”
“No, no, no and additionally, no. I’m fine!”
Her mother pursed her lips, but rocked back on her heels. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Adelaide tried not to roll her eyes.
“One of these days you’ll be thankful for my caution, Miss Adelaide Kelton,” said her mother, halfway between teasing and tears.
Adelaide tried to look innocent, and sat up. Her side twinged again and she flinched.
“Ah ha!” Concern lines deepened on her mother’s forehead. “I knew you weren’t fine.”
“Mum, it’s nothing.” Adelaide scrambled to her feet and stepped towards Anchor.
“Oh no you don’t. You’ll not be going near that beast again.”
This time Adelaide did roll her eyes and, impatient with her mother’s theatrics, walked towards her horse.
“No.”
Anchor shied at Mum’s harsh tone.
Adelaide turned, ready to glare at her. But the strange look on her mother’s face froze her. “What?”
“I mean it, Adelaide.” Mum folded her arms. “This time enough’s enough. I’ve already spoken to your father. You’ll not be riding anymore.”
Adelaide’s pulse raced. What kind of cruel joke was this? She shook her head in disbelief. “But, Mum—”
“No buts. I’m sorry. You won’t be riding him again.”
Adelaide fought the tears welling up in her eyes and the anger growing in her chest. “Mum, this is completely unfair! It was just one tiny fall! I’m fine!”
“No, Adelaide, you’re not. And I won’t have you out here risking your life any more. Sooner or later you’re going to have to accept—”
“I have accepted it, Mum! But just because I’m going to die doesn’t mean I need to curl up and do it now! You’re the one who hasn’t accepted it. You try to wrap me up in cotton wool as though that will somehow make me live longer! It won’t, Mum. I’m going to die.”
Her mother jerked back as though slapped, her face pale.
Adelaide’s temper abated and she cringed. That had been a bit low. But before she could apologise, her mother spoke.
“Get inside. Now.”
Adelaide bit her lip and headed for the house.