Teddy smiled at Britt’s high spirits. She was also happy to see Britt wearing the prosthetic arm, having managed to attach it without her help. “He sort of found me. I was just standing here, staying out of the way, and the little bugger climbed up my back to perch there.”
“What’d I tell you? Perfect match. He’s definitely claimed you as his.”
“We’ll see.” Teddy wasn’t ready to admit she was smitten with the little feline. “You didn’t tell me what a huge deal this would be.”
Britt shrugged. “Honestly, I haven’t been around for the past four years and forgot how excited everyone gets.”
“So, these guys come and tell you how much your horses are worth?”
“No. They’re experts who will score each horse according to their look, confirmation, and ability to move. Their individual scores are averaged for a final score. The Keeneland September Yearling Sale actually consists of two weeks of auctions. A horse’s score indicates which of those auctions he or she qualifies to enter. When they’re shipped to Keeneland, the horses are turned over to a consigner—a sort of broker, who enters your yearling in the auction where it has the best chance to bring a top price. They generally have scoped out which buyers are planning to show up at which auctions and what other horses will be offered in that lot. And they also handle the financial transaction.”
“But you said you were going next week. What do you do there?”
“Watch, basically. We want to see what other farms bred and their results.”
Teddy had been hinting for weeks that she wanted to go, but Britt had yet to invite her. “It sounds exciting. I’ve never been to a horse auction.”
Britt looked at the time on her phone. “Thirty minutes, folks. Let’s settle them down.”
The chatter immediately quieted, and after a moment, soft classical music flooded the barn. Grooms traded brushes for soft cloths they stroked over the gleaming hides of the young horses while they murmured to their charges.
“They’ll also judge each horse’s temperament. A nervous, fretting horse loses points because you don’t want one that will use up all their energy fussing around before they even get on the racetrack,” Britt said.
Teddy sighed inwardly. Britt had again ignored her hint for an invitation to go with her to the September Yearling Sale. The auction Britt had invited Teddy to attend earlier to buy the Tapit filly had never happened because Britt was able to make a deal with the cash-strapped owner beforehand. Teddy wasn’t giving up. “How long will you be in Lexington?”
“Three days. Pop and I’ll get hotel rooms near Keeneland. So, you can go home a few days. I’m sure you’re ready to sleep in your own bed a while.”
“What about Mama Cat and the kittens? Who’ll feed them?” She and Britt had added a visit to the hay barn to their nightly porch-sitting routine.
“Lynn’s taking both of the gray kittens home with her, and Gail plans to pick up Mama Cat to be neutered next week. Lynn will let her recuperate at the house while Pop’s gone, so she’ll be at home there when he returns. He might resist letting her in the house the first time if he’s there, but he’s too big of a softie to throw her out if she’s ensconced.” Britt pointed to the ginger kitten, who’d finished eating and was trying to use his claws to hook the dog-tags chain that peeked out from under Teddy’s collar.
The tiny claws missed the chain and grabbed skin. “Ow, you little brat.”
Britt laughed. “That’s what you should name him.”
“I just might.” Teddy gave Britt a sideways glance.
“You could take him with you next week, but you probably should wait until you’re going to be home during the day to make sure he doesn’t shred your apartment.”
“Who said I wouldn’t be home. There’s no reason for me to stay here if you’re gone.”
The metal hook on Britt’s arm clicked open and closed again when she shrugged. “Well, you’ve been hinting hard enough for the past week. I thought you might like to go to the auctions with us.”
Teddy playfully punched Britt’s shoulder. “You’re just a big brat. Were you hoping I’d beg? I was about to, you know.”
“Damn. I should have held out a bit longer.”
Jill walked up behind them, carrying the halters of two mares she’d just turned out into the paddocks. “They’re here. I saw the van pull up and E.B. heading over to greet them.”
Britt rubbed her hand on her jeans. “That’s my cue. I’ve been elected stage manager of sorts. Come with me if you want to watch.”
Jill reached for the kitten. “How about I take him to the other barn to get him out of the way?”
“That’d be great. Thank you.” Teddy pulled the kitten from her shoulder, despite his claws digging into her jacket in protest. She held him up to look into his green eyes. “Go with Jill. You can play in her barn while I’m busy.”
“Thanks, Jill,” Britt said.
“You bet, pal.” Jill winked at Britt, who seemed to ignore her, except for the blush that tinted her neck and cheeks.
Britt strode down the long center aisle of the stable. “Halters on, people. Get ready to lead them out.”
Chapter Eleven
The day was a tedious process of leading the yearlings in a line for an initial look, then walking each of the twenty-seven individually back and forth, toward and away from the four judges, and finally holding the yearling at a standstill so the judges could examine the yearling’s confirmation—musculature and bone structure. A judge or two almost always requested for the horse to be walked a certain way or turned left or right. The grooms, the audience and, most of all, the young horses needed a lot of patience.
The inspectors took an extra-long look at Home from War, the yearling E.B. expected to bring big dollars at auction. Thankfully, the sometime-temperamental colt stayed alert but calm throughout the process.
At the end of the long day, everyone went home exhausted. Dinner consisted of leftover roast and lamb, with mashed potatoes and peas. Simple and quick. Teddy took her after-dinner coffee to the porch as usual, but Britt followed Pop into his office to go over the scores of their yearlings. Before long, the old man began to yawn. For the first time since she’d returned, she noticed the extra lines in his face and the blue of his eyes that had paled with age.
“You should turn in, Pop. We were up extra early this morning.”
“We’re only halfway through the scores.” His protest lost wind as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
“It’s nothing we can’t go over tomorrow,” Britt said, standing so he would.
Pop pushed up out of his chair. “Okay. You’re right. Bed sounds really good about now.” He squinted at her. “You should go up to bed, too. I know you’re younger, but you’re still healing and need your rest.”
“I will in a bit. I just have a few things to check on.”
Pop raised an eyebrow at her. “You mean somebody to check on.”
She shook her head but didn’t bother to deny his insinuation. “Get your mind out of the gutter, old man. We don’t even really know anything about her.” Britt hesitated to share but trusted Pop’s discretion. “She has nightmares about something. Maybe from when she deployed years back. I don’t know.”
“Huh. You sound like you have an idea.”
“When we went to her office last week, I saw a photo of someone on her desk. She went to get something and caught me looking at it when she came back. Her whole mood changed. It was obvious she wouldn’t talk about the woman in the picture.”
“Did you ask?”
“No. I didn’t want to invade her privacy. She would have told me if she wanted me to know.”
“Google her.”
Wait. Say what? Google who?
“Don’t look at me like that,” Pop said, shaking his finger at her. “I know what it means, and I know how to do it. Lynn’s niece taught me. You wouldn’t believe the track gossip you can find on the computer. No more paying the big ears in the backstretch
barns for information.”
“You googled Teddy?”
“Of course not. But you should. Maybe she has some of those social-media pages.”
“You know about social media?”
“How do you think I kept up with you over in that godforsaken Afghanistan?”
This wasn’t a conversation she’d ever expected to have with her grandfather. “I’m not on social media. It’s filled with nothing but fake news and cute animal videos.”
“I know you’re not, but your unit is. And a lot of families use Facebook to stay in touch with children or cousins who’ve moved away.”
She did know that, but she never looked at the Facebook or Instagram pages. Before deployment, all soldiers and their families had to watch videos about what could and could not be posted on social media. The video emphasized only appropriate posts and nothing that would reveal troop locations or schedules.
“I do. But I’m not going to google anybody. It’s an invasion of privacy.”
“Do you think Teddy would put anything private out there where anybody could read it?”
“No.”
“I’m just saying. You’re more like your old self when she’s around, so I think you should get your head out of the sand.” Pop waved her off. “Or you two can just keep shying away from the starting gate until she’s gone. I’m heading to bed.”
She stared after him. Is that what they were doing?
* * *
Britt stepped out onto the porch with her cup of coffee and sat in the rocking chair next to Teddy.
“So, did today go well? Is E.B. pleased with the scores?”
Britt nodded. “Very pleased.”
“I didn’t hear his television go on.”
“He turned in early. He was already down at the barns when I got up at five this morning. I’m not sure he even went to bed last night.”
“His energy amazes me.”
Britt snorted. “That old man will still be going when you and I are gumming our food.”
Teddy chuckled. “It’s sweet, the bond between the two of you.”
Britt rocked and thought of how she could put into words what her grandfather meant to her. “I was never the debutante my mother wanted, not that she didn’t try. She’d dress me up in frills when I was little, then find me in the barn with mud splattered up to my shoulders. I never played with the dolls she bought me but slept with the GI Joe Pop gave me one Christmas. He and Mother never got along. Pop always complained that Dad should stand up for me more against her. He said I should be allowed to be who I am, not forced into what my mother wanted me to be.” Britt ran her hand through her short hair. Her mother had hated when she’d cut it. “Should we walk down and feed the cats?”
Teddy smiled. “I was just about to give up on you and go by myself. I saved them some of the roast-beef and lamb scraps.” She looked up at Britt. “I didn’t know how long you and E.B. would be holed up in his office.”
“I would have understood, but thanks for waiting.” Britt looked forward to their walk each night. They rarely took the golf cart anymore, preferring to stroll and talk.
Teddy grabbed the foil-wrapped scraps sitting by her rocker, and they headed down the steps. “What happens now? With the yearlings, I mean.”
“We’ll start shipping groups of them to Keeneland, where they’ll be stabled until next week’s auctions. It’ll give them an opportunity to adjust to all the activity, and the consigner the opportunity to judge the interest in each horse and decide which auction would bring the best price.”
They walked in silence for a while, shoulders nearly bumping. Britt was only an inch or two taller than Teddy. She shoved her hand into her pocket to rein in her need to entwine her fingers with Teddy’s. What if she did? The fact that desirable Teddy always walked on Britt’s right side seemed like an invitation to do just that. Otherwise, she expected therapist Teddy would walk on her left side, guarding her from further injury. Or maybe she just wanted to think that. The near darkness of the crescent moon seemed to open the gate to the attraction, speculation, and desire between them. Maybe it was just her, but Teddy seemed to edge closer with each step they took.
“Can I ask another question?”
“Sure.” Britt tensed in anticipation that maybe, just maybe Teddy was going to admit that what was growing between them was more than friendship. Maybe Teddy would do what Britt wasn’t brave enough to—
“Before we met, I saw a video clip where you and your father were interviewed together while he was still in the service. You appeared to have a close relationship. But when he showed up at the hospital last week, you barely looked at him or spoke to him.”
What? Britt stopped in front of the hay barn, her brain stumbling over the bucket of ice water Teddy had tossed into her path.
“You want to talk about my father?” Britt gave the door to the hay barn a rough shove, much harder than necessary. “My fucking father?” Maybe it was the PTSD. Maybe it was his intrusion once again into her life. But her anger rose unexpected and quick, hot and cutting.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Teddy took a step back, darting her glance from the ground to Britt and into the dark barn. “I just…I thought we…I care about you and thought maybe it would help if you could talk about it.”
Britt inwardly flinched at the sadness—or maybe loneliness—in Teddy’s tone and struggled to regain control of her emotions. “I’m sorry.” She opened the other half of the barn door and let the floodlight at the entrance pour into the barn’s interior. Then she gave in to her need to take Teddy’s hand and tug her deeper into the barn. “Let’s feed the cats.”
She let go of Teddy’s hand while they set the food out, but she reclaimed it as they settled on the short bench Britt had brought to the barn when the cat feedings became routine. Teddy didn’t question the dim lighting as they watched the little cat family dine.
“Your question caught me off guard. I apologize for my anger,” Britt said, realizing that she wanted to tell Teddy everything. The weight of what had happened still crushed her. Surely the patient-therapist part of their relationship would guarantee that no one could order Teddy to reveal anything Britt told her. But the army was famous for making rules, then circumventing them whenever it suited the corps.
Teddy pressed against Britt’s side, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…if you can’t tell me.”
Britt lifted their hands and pressed the back of Teddy’s to her cheek. It was warm and smooth. “I want to.” The night felt like a dark, safe cocoon, and Teddy was her shield maiden against the emotions that kept trying to tear her apart. She would try.
“We used to be close. Pop has always been my safe haven. But Dad, he was my hero. He taught me to always do the right thing, no matter what it cost personally. And that can be really hard.”
“Yes, it can.” Teddy’s quiet words held more unsaid, but Britt needed to finish.
“He forgave my mother an affair because he said he drove her to it by volunteering for long deployments to boost his career and not making more of an effort to adjust emotionally when he returned home to his family. I was angry with her, but Dad told me forgiving her was the right thing to do.”
Teddy offered no opinion.
“When I was twelve, my parents let me adopt a dog from the shelter. She was just a mutt, but the smartest dog I’ve ever known. We were inseparable. She ate with me, slept with me, and went everywhere with me. She walked me to the school-bus stop every morning and met me there when the bus returned that afternoon. But she got sick, and the veterinarian told us it was incurable lymphoma. He gave us medicine, and she seemed to get better for a while. But he warned us that the medicine would work for only so long, and she would get very sick again.
“Dad said it would be my decision to make, but he had important deployment meetings the day it became suddenly obvious she was in constant pain. Still, when I called him, he immediately came home to load her into the car.
I sobbed my heart out while the vet gave her that final shot. As much as that hurt, I was proud I had done the right thing. I knew Dad was proud, too.”
Teddy’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Britt. He sounds like a wonderful father. What has happened to change that in your eyes?”
Britt turned to Teddy, their faces inches apart. “He sold his soul and became a politician. Doing the right thing apparently means something different in Washington.”
Teddy cupped Britt’s cheek with the hand she wasn’t holding, her eyes searching Britt’s. “Surely, you must be wrong. The man who raised you must still be inside him, no matter what he’s done to disillusion you.”
Teddy’s breath on her face was warm and sweet. She only had to lean in an inch, maybe two to taste, to caress those full lips. “Don’t waste your time thinking about my father. Think about this.” And Britt kissed her.
Chapter Twelve
Britt’s lips were gentle and tentative at first, and Teddy closed her eyes to savor them. She slid her hand from Britt’s cheek to her lap and pulled her closer, opening to her and dancing her tongue against Britt’s. God, she tasted like warm, rich coffee. Teddy heated as she drank Britt in.
She wanted to be surprised, but even she didn’t believe the lie she’d told herself—that their flirting was just platonic banter. She’d wanted this. Every time she’d allowed Britt into her personal space, every time she’d stepped into Britt’s, she’d been aware of the permission she was offering. But she’d ignored that inner voice, just like she was ignoring the alarms going off in her head now. She’s a patient. She’s critical to the prosthesis project. She’s fragile from recent deployment.
Teddy gasped, jerking her mouth from Britt’s.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Regret flashed in Britt’s eyes, but Teddy held tight when Britt tried to withdraw from their still-clasped hands.
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