by Alana Terry
She looked out her window as he coasted through her neighborhood then refocused on him. “Any updates, Michael?” She hoped she didn’t have to say more.
“No, Dr. Nathan,” he said, at the light separating her neighborhood from the main vein. “They’re going through the street cameras, but it’s taking some time.” He glanced quickly in the rearview mirror at her. She nodded and turned back to the window for a moment.
“How’s Lindsey?” she asked, drawing out the name like a pestering, adolescent sibling. Michael met Lindsey, Shauna’s cousin, at a special family dinner party a few years ago. She remembered it was love at first sight for Lindsey. Her eyes followed him everywhere after she interrogated Shauna to make sure there was nothing between them. She had to give it to Michael. He didn’t spare Lindsey more than a glance until after his shift was over, then he shook hands with her and formally introduced himself. From there commenced the longest courtship she’d ever seen between two people who were absolutely smitten with each other.
“She’s good,” he responded sharply. She knew that was his way of dissuading her from going further with the conversation, but little did he know she’d recently spoken to her cousin and received the latest episode in what Lindsey called his campaign to romance her down the aisle. Lindsey’s job—to try not to let all of it go to her head.
“When you gonna ask her to marry you?” She watched him carefully to see if there was any change in his expression. She could only detect a tightening of his jaw. “I can tell you love her. Why don’t you just do it already?” She worked hard to keep her mouth in its downturned line of disapproval when all she wanted to do was giggle.
“If I ask her, she’ll be the first to know. Not her impertinent chit of a cousin.”
She feigned outrage. “How dare you!”
“Oh, I think we both know by now that I dare, Shauna, and when you find someone worth me making fun of, you can be assured I will do so.”
Whatever Shauna was going to say left her mind with his response. She doubted she’d find that someone. Her line of work wasn’t really conducive to finding someone. The hours were long and most of the men she worked with ate and slept their job. She was good at what she did, but she wasn’t interested in having it own any more of her life than she’d already designated.
She thought she’d found that in Nicolas, but after a couple of months she noticed a pattern with him that left her feeling a distant second to his career as a forensic pathologist. She didn’t mind his passion and love for his work. She actually admired it, but she’d always kept the hope in her heart that the man she fell in love with would put her above everything. She knew some things couldn’t be avoided in regard to their jobs, i.e., the long hours and emergencies, but every now and then, she wanted the man who desired her affections to make a selfless gesture that told her she was first in his life.
After she broke up with Nicolas, she thought her mom would cry. She refused to speak to Shauna for two weeks, so Shauna refused to share any more of her dating life with her. She knew her mother wanted her to be happy, but after her parents’ separation, it was as if her mother was trying to live vicariously through her.
“Shauna, the security company your dad hired to find your stalker is excellent. All you have to do is be a little more aware of your surroundings, and report anything out of the ordinary,” Michael said, mistaking her quiet for concern. She turned to look at his reflection, giving him a wan smile.
“I know. We all went through this when dad received that string of death threats.” Shauna turned back to the window, ending that particular conversation.
SHE BENT LOW AND GAVE Shadow Boxer a pat on his head. This was where none of her worries or cares could catch her. She flew. The wind skimming across her face and neck was exhilarating. She loved this feeling. She wrapped her free fingers around his mane and squeezed her thighs tighter. As they came upon the next curve in the obstacle course, she pulled up on the reins gently. It wasn’t as though Shadow hadn’t memorized most of the course and her way of riding. He was very smart, but she loved the feel of working in tandem with him around every bend and over every hedge. She listened to Shadow’s breaths and marveled at his endurance and strength. She imagined she could feel his heartbeat as she guided him through the rest of the turn to face the shorter of the two fences on this obstacle course. She brought the reins up a little higher to guarantee that Shadow could see it clearly. She stood in the stirrups and pressed her calves into his sides as he took the leap. She smiled at the placement of his hooves before and after they caught air, the ease of his lift and the height at which he cleared the fence. Though she wasn’t training anymore, she never wanted to lose the feel of the movement, and it looked like she still had it.
She brought Shadow Boxer around and cued him into a trot before slowing him to a walk to begin his cooldown. She turned toward the stables, unable to keep the smile off her face. This was her domain. She didn’t have to pretend or put on airs here. She was sure of herself and her movements. Everything had always made sense when she was in the saddle or around horses in general. The feelings of peace and well-being that overtook her while she rode and took care of her horse usually stayed with her for a few hours afterward, if she didn’t come upon a particularly stressful situation with people.
This was where things were clear. This was her sanctuary. Too bad she visited here less than most devout Christians visited their sanctuary.
When she was twelve, she considered making horse riding her profession, but that was swiftly and firmly discouraged by her father, who otherwise was her greatest form of support and encouragement. Horseback riding was great exercise, but it wasn’t something she could base a career on.
She looked at her watch and noticed she’d lost track of time. She only had enough time to dismount and give Shadow Boxer a thorough brush down before Michael drove up. She knew she could have the stable hand do it, but the act was something she reveled in. She liked it almost as much as riding.
Maybe she’d have Michael stop by a deli instead of having an early lunch in a restaurant, as she’d originally planned. She wouldn’t make him wait through one of her showers just because she’d failed to keep track of the time.
Almost an hour later, she was sitting in the back of the sedan watching four young children playing kickball in their front yard while Michael filled her order at her favorite deli. The wide street was lined with older Victorian-style homes and mom-and-pop businesses on the corners. She loved the feeling of nostalgia the scene evoked. It reminded her of the times she’d visit her grandparents who owned a similar home in New Jersey when they were still alive. She could almost smell the biscuits and bacon that seemed like staples in their home.
The flight of the ball sailing over the fence caught her attention. She watched as the children ran to the fence, their faces falling more with each bounce of the ball as it made its way across the street. She judged the distance of the ball from the car she was sitting in then glanced at the deli, hoping to see Michael exiting. After waiting a couple of moments, she figured exiting the car for a few seconds at the most to retrieve a ball for some little kids who looked like they were about to cry, couldn’t be too dangerous.
She looked up and down the street with enough thoroughness to make even Michael proud, before she opened the door and walked swiftly toward the ball now resting against the curb. She picked it up and turned back toward the children at the fence. She could throw the ball with a thirty/seventy probability of getting it into their yard, or she could run it over to them.
“Thank you, lady,” yelled the oldest-looking boy of the group. She smiled at him as she walked back across the street, right before she spotted the man standing to the right of a huge oak tree trunk a few doors down. She stopped, frozen. All thoughts of the ball in her hand fled her mind. He was there. How did he know she was here? How did he keep finding her?
“Hey lady, watch out.” She heard the little boy’s warning, assuming he was tal
king about the man as well. Too late, kid. Her heart rate jumped up and she broke out in a cold sweat. She was paralyzed with fear. The man hadn’t moved, but he didn’t have to in order to evoke any more fear than he already had. She couldn’t make out his expression behind his mirrored, aviator sunglasses, but she could imagine the malice and hatred. Why else would he stalk her?
“Shauna!” She heard her name, but had a hard time pulling her eyes away from the man to search for the direction the shout came from.
The next few seconds slowed to a crawl as she finally turned her head to see Michael run toward her. Maybe he saw the guy too and was coming to protect her. She heard a screeching and turned to see a car barreling down the street, right toward her. She made a move to run, but her body seemed to lock up. The next thing she knew, an arm moving at incredible speed wrapped around her waist and swept her up and off her feet with its momentum. She floated in the air, feeling as though gravity had fallen away one second, only to be jarred against something mostly hard the next, pushing all the air out of her lungs. She was rolled; asphalt coming up to meet her again and again until she had to close her eyes. A searing pain registered in her upper arm and something hard jabbed her in her hip, but neither prepared her for the pain that burgeoned in the back of her head before the world came to an abrupt stop.
She tried to lift her hand to her head, but it was caught, and her strength was quickly draining. She opened her eyes to see Michael looming over her, but he was so blurry she had a hard time making him out. She blinked over and over, but with each shutter of her lids, the image became darker, and the pain in her head became worse until she knew nothing at all.
Chapter 4
ZACH SLOWLY RAN THE brush through her thick, coal-black hair. He knew this was her favorite part, and if he was being truthful, it was his as well. He sometimes saved this for the end of the day, because it brought him so much peace. Usually the repetitive motion allowed his mind to wander a little, but not with her. As soon as he began to zone out, she’d move her head away and the rhythm would be broken. She wanted all his attention and why not? She deserved nothing less.
The thick, heavy tresses fell across his hand like a waterfall before he sifted it through his fingers. There was little else that felt like it. His downstroke with the brush became firmer and more deliberate. He felt the shudder run through her. “Ahh, I found the perfect spot. I told you I could find it anytime I wanted to.” He almost cooed at her.
“Are you flirting with my girl again?” Slightly startled, Zach turned in the direction of the strident voice that filled the stable.
He worked hard to keep the flush from his face. He was so engrossed in what he was doing he didn’t hear the man walk in. He wasn’t used to anyone coming into this part of the stables, let alone an owner.
He went back to brushing the mare’s mane. “Some females need a little extra attention and Betty Gables here needs it more than most, but then I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.” He chanced a glance at her owner, Rick Neighbors, who was now running his hand along Betty’s flank and back leg.
“How’s she doing today?” Rick stepped back to lean against the stable door.
“She seemed a little skittish this morning, but after a short walk around the paddock she calmed down,” Zach said, giving the brush one more pass before patting the horse’s neck and running his hand soothingly along her back. He gestured for Rick to follow him to the tack room.
“I think she’s warming up to her new surroundings. I will take her out farther tomorrow and farther yet the next day.” He placed the brush and other grooming tools on a shelf then walked to a set of chairs in the sitting room designed just for the purpose of talking to owners about the performance of the horses they rented the stables for.
“I think she just needed to stretch her legs a little and get her confidence back regarding that back leg,” he continued, once they were sitting with glasses of water in front of them. “It’ll be a few days before I begin to introduce her to the other horses. She didn’t seem too social when she first arrived. She shied away from the most recently used stable. It’s one of the reasons why we’re so far back,” Zach stated.
“Well, I can’t stay too much longer. I just received some rather distressing news and will have to get back to my business headquarters sooner than I thought.” He took a sip of water, but Zach noticed he didn’t settle back in his chair. This would be a very quick visit.
“I just wanted to be sure she could adjust here. It’s been... hard since Chelsey died. She only ever let Chelsey ride her and that’s still the case. After the first week, she slowly stopped eating. This place was our last hope.”
Zach watched the older gentleman. Though he was in good shape, Zach could tell that his daughter’s passing had aged him. The skin around his cheekbones sagged with recent, significant weight loss. Betty Gables wasn’t the only one suffering from lack of appetite. Some people just weren’t able to make the connection between their emotional reactions to situations and a horse’s reactions to the same situations. The sensitivity a horse had to its rider’s emotions was real and strong. In many ways, they were more sensitive than humans. They were definitely more in tune with their emotions.
“Well, I think Betty will be just fine here. The next time you visit you’ll see a marked difference. It may be a while yet before she allows someone to ride her, but we’ll exercise her and give her what she needs to transition smoothly through the grieving process,” Zach said, leaning forward in his chair.
Rick gave a snort of disbelief. “A grieving horse?”
“Why should that be hard to believe? How long was Betty with Chelsey?”
“Since she was a foal. About eight years.”
“You should know the bond between a horse and its owner is very strong. Their relationship can be just as deep or deeper than the one a person shares with family members. Horses are very intelligent animals. They know and feel the loss.”
Rick looked perplexed for a moment. “And you think you can help her?”
“As any physician would tell you, the right diagnosis is more than half the battle when it comes to healing a patient. I think we’re on the right track.”
“What are you? A horse whisperer?” Rick chuckled.
“No.” Zach was quick to deny the name many had tried to give him. He never claimed he could communicate with horses on some higher or lower psychic level. In fact, he was the first one to rebuff that claim. He’d just observed them and treated them like the intelligent beings they were, without placing boundaries on their feelings or abilities to sense the emotions of other animals and people. If anything, it was the horses that whispered to him. He was just open to finding out more about himself. It had taken a long time to get to a place where he was willing to listen, but there was very little he’d trade for the peace he was able to gain by obtaining that knowledge.
“I just try to be sensitive and keep an open mind. When I do, I find I’m usually right about my assessment. I find it beneficial when matching them with riders for therapy,” Zach said, giving Rick his run-of-the-mill answer.
Rick’s brows creased. “I thought Giovanni said you were the Equine Therapist.” Zach normally would’ve found that amusing. Though he’d taken the required courses in counseling and therapy, he really just considered himself a glorified ranch hand.
“I am. I instruct and train riders through their therapy sessions with the horses. I teach them how to care for and properly ride the horses, but more importantly, I help foster the relationship that’ll grow between the two. They call it equine therapy because the horses assist in the therapeutic needs of those who are suffering from PTSD, anxiety, and other mental disorders. It has also been shown to help children with attention deficit disorder as well as autism.” Zach saw the man shift restlessly in his chair and surmised that he’d shared too much.
“But you don’t need to know all that. Just know that I will make sure Betty is well taken care of
until Giovanni gets back the day after tomorrow.
Mr. Neighbors nodded his head and stood to face Zach. “All right. I’m trusting you to take care of her.” He stuck his hand out to shake Zach’s and was led out of the stables.
Zach didn’t mind caring for boarded horses, but he wouldn’t trade them for his therapy horses for anything. The horses he’d helped select and train to become therapy horses were as close as he’d ever get again to children. He walked back in the boarding stables to make sure all the horses had enough hay and water for the night. The stable hands were quite efficient, but every now and then they’d forget something because they were in a hurry to get off the ranch for the night or weekend. Seeing nothing amiss, Zach turned the lights down and double-checked the thermostat. The state-of-the-art boarding stables were every bit as cozy as the stables that housed his therapy horses. The only difference was that they were located on the north side of the ranch hand quarters or bunkhouse because the wind rarely shifted to the north, and so they rarely caught wind of any other horse.
When they’d first began taking in boarders, they housed them together, but soon found that the significant differences in demeanor and training caused more disruptive behavior in both sets.
Zach yawned as he walked toward his cabin on the west side of the bunkhouse. He’d only moved in there two years ago when Giovanni took on more ranch hands to care for and exercise their boarders. It was also the least he could do for all the work he caused Zach when they expanded to offer lodging to overnight guests.
Giovanni was a numbers man. Everything had to add up perfectly before he’d make a move, but once he'd made up his mind, it might as well be cast in stone. Giovanni was as staunch and straight as Zach was once upon a time. Zach would feel for the man if he didn’t know that it was how Giovanni coped with life.