by Orly Konig
The next hour is spent coaxing two reluctant and uncooperative boys and their mounts. The counselor who came with them keeps her eyes glued to her phone the entire time, uttering an unhelpful “pay attention” each time one of the boys rides past her.
By the end of the lesson I’m not sure whom I’ll be happier to see the back of—the boys or their counselor.
After the lessons are done and the horses are tucked into their stalls for the night, I collapse into an Adirondack chair in front of the lounge, too tired to make my way back to the Mountain Inn just yet.
“Well that was one hell of a day,” Ben says, handing me a beer and sinking into the chair next to mine.
“Cheers to that.” I tap the mouth of my bottle to the one he’s holding.
“Have you heard from Simon or Jillian?”
With the daylight fading, the pastures have taken on a droopy melancholy.
“Spoke to Simon about an hour ago. They’re keeping Rena in the hospital a few more days. It wasn’t a heart attack this time, but she’s not in great shape. Simon asked how you were doing.”
“Well, I didn’t break Libby and hopefully I didn’t traumatize the therapeutic kids beyond repair.”
Ben smiles. “That’s pretty much what I told him.”
“Nice. Thanks.”
“Seriously though, you were great today. Thank you.”
“Can I trust you to keep a secret?” I take a long swig, stretching the quiet into the deepening evening.
“Depends if it’s in my best interest.” The shadows conceal the expression on his face.
“I had fun teaching and helping out in the barn. I didn’t realize how much I missed being around horses.”
“That’s not a secret.”
I pull the corners of my mouth into a frown but can’t keep them down.
Ben laughs, then hands me a piece of paper. “Here’s your schedule for tomorrow. I’ll juggle the rest after I get some sleep.”
“You have me for two more days, Ben.” My stomach clenches and I imagine the darkening aura cloud swirling around me.
“Are you done with your dad’s affairs?” He ignores my timing comment.
“No. But enough that I can finish the rest from Chicago.”
“Can’t you take more time off? It would mean a lot to Rena and Simon knowing you were here. And that would give you more time to finish whatever is left to be done.”
“I have a job.”
“Is that the only thing pulling you back there?”
“Isn’t it enough?” I study the bottle in my hand, squint at the warning label as though I’ve never read it before.
I don’t need a spotlight on Ben to know he’s giving me a don’t-bullshit-me look.
“Simon also told me to have you check out of the inn and move your stuff into the second apartment. It’s not being used, and it doesn’t make sense for you to be shuttling back and forth.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t stay in the apartment or can’t stay to help?”
“Both?” It’s more question than statement and Ben laughs at my indecision.
“He said that would be your answer. Why can’t you stay in the apartment?”
“The state of Maryland won’t survive the explosion when Jillian learns I’ve moved in. It’s safer for all of us if I stay at the inn.”
Ben repositions and the wood chair groans in protest. “So, you’re staying to help?”
“What?”
“You said ‘It’s safer if I stay at the inn.’ That means you haven’t ruled out staying and helping.”
“Yes. No. No, it doesn’t mean that. It means I don’t want to deal with Jillian’s temper tantrum over me being here.”
Even in the gloaming light I can tell Ben is smirking.
“Jillian will get over it. She’ll have to. She can’t take on all the lessons and I certainly can’t absorb much more than I already have. We need you. Rena knew that.”
He stands abruptly and asks if I want another beer.
We need you. Rena knew that.
“Sit.” I point at the chair and Ben refolds into it. “What did you mean by ‘Rena knew that’?”
He drops his head into his hands. “Oh crap. Rena will geld me for this.”
I lean back and cross my arms. “Talk.”
He shoots me an under-the-flop-of-hair assessment, probably trying to decide whom he’s more intimidated by or feels more sympathetic to. “Shit. Fine.” He pushes into the back of the chair and straightens his arms as though preparing for liftoff.
“Talk.”
“Damn you’re bossy. Is that what they teach you in the corporate world?”
I glare, or at least try to glare.
“Your dad used to come here. He’d sit away from others mostly, close enough to watch but just removed enough so no one would get the idea he was here to socialize. He always had a dark gray notebook with him. Writing, drawing. I don’t know what he was doing.”
A million questions zip through my brain but none finds the exit through my mouth.
“Rena would sit and talk to him. They never seemed to agree, though. At least they never laughed or looked relaxed around each other. She was always moodier after his visits. Anyway, she wanted him to call you back. She was hoping that if you came, you would decide on your own that you belonged here. But I think she was also ready to make a case for it.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“Rena and Simon have been very good to me. They’re more than my employers. They’re also friends. She tried to take on more after Simon was forced to slow down. But her health is worse than his. She’s just way more stubborn. When her health took a dive, the helping reversed. But Simon can’t keep up or take more on.”
“My father sent me an e-mail a few weeks before his accident. Something about needing to talk.” My brain cells scroll through the vast number of e-mails, trying to recall the exact words of my father’s last e-mail to me.
“He didn’t say what about?”
“Nope. Trying to manipulate as always.”
“Wow.”
I can’t tell if that’s a judgment on me or my father. “Did you ever talk to him?”
“No. But I didn’t get the sense from what Rena said that he had horns and a pitchfork.”
“Designer ones.”
“Funny.”
Our conversation is replaced by the chatter of evening—noisy bugs and restless horses.
I try to picture my father here, sitting on the bleachers with his notebook. I try to imagine what he looked like sketching. Did he think about me while he was drawing Jack? Did he think about Mom when he was drawing the scene from a therapy lesson?
“So?” Ben’s voice pulls me back. “Will you stay and help?”
“I can’t. There’s a lot going down at the office and they’re expecting me back.”
“There’s a lot going down for you here, too. Maybe it’s time to put yourself first.”
“Now that’s a unique idea.”
“But a good one, right?” I hear the smirk in his voice.
My stomach flops, from nerves or excitement or a combination of both?
“My boss will have a nervous breakdown.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
We both laugh, and just like that, the flopping in my stomach stops. I pull out my phone and send an e-mail to Bruce, copying human resources and Howard.
There’s a giddiness at the idea of spending four more days with the horses and a sudden freedom at the idea of following my heart.
But there’s also a swirling of dread that, once again, I’ve been manipulated by my father.
23
My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans. “And walk,” I tell the horse cantering circles around me at the end of the lunge line, then with my free hand I reach for the phone. The horse comes to an abrupt halt. In the time it takes to flick my finger across the screen and accept the call, the horse has turned and is breathing into my face. “
Stop that.” I push him away.
“What did I do?” A man’s voice asks, the tone somewhere between affronted and amused.
“Jeez, I’m sorry. Not you.”
“Oh good.” I hear what could be a chuckle or a throat clearing. “I have some good news. At least I hope it’s good news.”
My brain whirs, trying to place the voice. Maybe it’s the prolonged quiet, but the voice adds, “This is Tom.”
Tom?
“Thomas Adler?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. Good news?” I shove at the dark brown horse who clearly has an issue with personal space.
“I have papers for you to sign to close out your father’s practice.”
“Already?” Feeling suddenly unmoored, I grab at the large shape in front of me.
There’s a hesitation on the other end of the line. “You seemed anxious to have this resolved as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, I was. Am.”
You’re still leaving the moment Rena is back on her feet.
Except that the conviction from those first few days, that absolute certainty that I don’t belong here, is softening like ripe cheese.
I didn’t belong here. Until I started belonging again.
“I can bring the papers to you if that’ll be easier?”
“Actually that would be great. I’m working all day and probably won’t be done until long after you close tonight.”
“Work?” The surprise in his voice leaps out of the phone.
“I’m helping a friend for a few days.”
I give Thomas the address of Jumping Frog Farm and return my attention to the beast trying to stomp on my foot.
“Dude, manners. We’ve got some work ahead of us. Personal space. Listening. Patience.” I pull my foot out from under his hoof again. “Now get back out there. We’re not done lunging yet.”
After another ten minutes of trotting and cantering in circles, Charlie settles down. Or at least he’s not bucking every third step. And he’s not trying to pancake my feet. I look at my watch. Another ten minutes before his owner, Scott, arrives for their lesson.
The rest of the morning is a whirlwind of dust and horses. I’m surprised when Thomas walks into the barn looking freshly pressed and surprisingly casual. He’s holding an envelope in one hand and a white paper bag in the other.
“I brought sandwiches.” He swings the paper bag from side to side.
My stomach snaps to attention at the mention of food. “You’re brilliant. Thanks. Can we start with those?”
He grins and pulls the bag closer to his body. “Maybe I should hold it as collateral. Get your signature on those legal documents first.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll sign.”
“Sure you’re not having second thoughts?” He takes in my less-than-couture-ish attire, my hair pulled into a sloppy bun, and smiles.
I’m supposed to say “no second thoughts.” About the medical practice there are no second thoughts. Not even a hiccup about selling the condo. And yet, there’s a significant drop in urgency over leaving.
“Hand over that bag.” I won’t let the stomach stutters over returning to Chicago color what needs to be done.
We sit on the patio, the fields dotted with horses enjoying the fall day. Carlisle, Simon’s black Lab, flops at my feet. Poor dog has been cooped up inside the last few days with Simon spending most of his time at the hospital.
I take my time with the sandwich, sharing a piece of turkey with Carlisle.
Thomas is watching, the left corner of his mouth inching higher.
“What?”
“You look completely different.”
I wipe my hand along my pant leg, then self-consciously pick at a slobber spot courtesy of Jack and a grass stain courtesy of Jukebox. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t show up in your office looking like this?”
He winks. “The look suits you. The smell not as much. No offense.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is there a right way to take being told I look better wearing horse and goat slobber than the fancy clothes I spent a small fortune on?”
“You’ve smiled more in the half hour we’ve been sitting here than the entirety of our previous meeting.”
“You didn’t feed me last time.”
He laughs. “Touché. But somehow I don’t think my sandwich choice is the magic ingredient.”
I shrug. “I’ve enjoyed being back.”
He hesitates, as though wanting to say more, then picks up the envelope and turns it over several times like a magician waving a magic handkerchief.
“You’re returning to Chicago tomorrow?”
I reach down to pat Carlisle. “No. I extended my stay by a couple of days.” Four, not a couple, that’s a couple plus a couple more. Although technically only a couple since two of those days are weekend.
“Hopefully it’s not because of this?” He taps the envelope against his thigh. “I assure you, Emma, that we can finish the final paperwork via mail.”
I nod. “It’s not.”
“Any progress on the condo?”
“Actually yes. T.J. left a message earlier. She’s had a request for a second visit and expects to have an offer by the end of today.”
“She’s fabulous, isn’t she? I knew she was perfect. She went to college with my partner. Found our townhouse for us and negotiated a killer deal. Aaron is her biggest fan and pimps her to everyone he can. She may be petite but she’s a bulldog.”
“Your partner?”
Thomas sighs, then chuckles. “Don’t get me started. He hates when I call him that.”
Lucy had said “husband.” “You’re married?” I indicate the wide band on his finger.
“We are. But I can’t bring myself to call him husband. That would make me the wife? Nope, thank you. No offense.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
“This time, none taken.” I like this guy. I can imagine us being friends if I stay. Which I’m not. “Thanks again for recommending T.J.”
My attention falters as Ben leads Wally to the outdoor arena.
“Ah,” Thomas says, a smile pulling across his face.
“Meaning?” I tighten the leash on my attention span.
“Staying to help out a friend.”
My eyes follow where he’s looking.
“Not that friend. The owners of this stable.”
“Ah.”
“Are you going to give me those papers or not?”
“Absolutely,” he says, handing over the envelope and attempting to smother the smile.
* * *
Two red dots blink through the swirl of dust as Thomas Adler taps the breaks at the end of the driveway.
“It’s gone, Dad. I signed the papers.” Was it worth it? Was that medical practice so much more important than your own family? For someone who knew so much about reading people, you were completely blind to your own family.
Ben comes to stand next to me at the edge of the patio. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Bad news?” His eyes dart to the road in time to watch the car pop over the hill and disappear around the bend.
“Nothing’s wrong. I guess you could say that things are moving along perfectly.”
“So why the scowl?”
“An unplanned trip down memory lane.”
“Courtesy of the guy in the fancy clothes?”
“He just loaded the baggage. I’m solely responsible for the destination.”
“Wanna talk?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He hands me two halters and untangles their lead ropes from the others he’s holding. “Then walk with me. We need to bring in a few horses for the afternoon lessons.”
We cross the parking lot and ease through the crowd of horses crowding the gate. Of course the horses we need are in the back pasture. We walk, side by side, stepping over mounds of horse poop, both fresh and petrified.
“Did you have a good relationship with your parents?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk.”
<
br /> “I changed my mind. Did you?”
“Mostly. My dad didn’t get why I wanted to squander my talent on this profession.” He sweeps his hands, indicating the property around us. “Careful.” He points at a still fresh poop pile in my trajectory.
“What did he think you should be doing instead?”
“Physics. My specialization was high energy theory. I was all set to go work at Brown University with the expert on black hole physics.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I fell in love.”
I twist to get a look at his face and trip on a large rock.
“Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have brought you out here. You have done this before, right?”
“Give me a break.” I swat at him with the end of a lead rope. “So what happened, she didn’t support your decision to go there?”
I can’t tell if my incredulous reaction is because someone wouldn’t support her significant other or that he’d dropped a career path for the sake of a relationship. What if I’d accepted Stephen’s proposal and moved to Seattle? I look at Ben’s face, searching for a clue to what I gave up. Maybe I should try to find Stephen. No. Some things really are better left in the past.
Ben looks at me in surprise, then smiles. “I fell in love with a horse.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I started riding in college. Don’t look so surprised. Not everyone starts riding before they can walk. Anyway, my college girlfriend had a horse and spent most of her free time at the barn. If I wanted to see her, I needed to either turn into a horse or learn to ride one. The first option wasn’t very appealing. So I started taking lessons. Junior year we both competed in a show and somehow our riding instructor entered us in the same class. Guess what happened?”
I snort a laugh. “You beat her, didn’t you?”
“Beat the custom boots right off of her. She withheld sex for a month after that.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Like you’ve never used that punishment before?”
“Why punish myself in the process?” I duck under a low tree branch and chance a look at Ben.
His left eyebrow disappears under the shock of hair, leaving no question about the twinkle in his eye.
Shit, back up, back up. No flirting.
“So what happened?”
“Nothing. She broke up with me shortly after. And I continued to ride. When I needed a part-time job to pay for grad school, one of the professionals at the stable hired me to hack some of his horses. He taught me everything I know about dressage.