by Orly Konig
Rena pulls her mouth into a tight circle and I can almost hear her brain cells arguing over how to respond. Jump on it. You can’t let her do that. You need that money. She needs that money.
“Before you say anything, I’ve asked the lawyer to draw up new papers. He’s coming by this morning for us to sign them. Please, Rena. I want to do this. I need to do this.”
We both startle as the door pushes open.
“Do what?” Jillian stands in the open frame, her left hand gripping the handle while the right fist pushes into her hip. The expression on her face tells me she’s overheard more than I would have chosen for her to know at this point.
Can’t very well do this without her knowing, though, so get it over with it.
“I’ve offered to keep funding the therapeutic program.”
A flash I can’t read passes over Jillian’s face. The stride of her riding boots echoes on the tile floor as she walks to the open seat across from Rena, clearly leaving me outside the decision-making circle. “Of course you did. Golden Child Emma, here to save us all. Why not? We need a new outside donor if we’re going to keep the program going. I’m not surprised that you wouldn’t want his money.”
Rena winces.
I don’t. “I didn’t mean as an outside donor.” Not entirely at least.
Both women practically give themselves whiplash to get a better look at me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jillian growls at the same time Rena says, “What are you saying?”
I address Rena. “I spent all night thinking about what you said. I’ll never know if he was proud of what I’ve accomplished or if he wanted something different for me. But I have to let it go. I think it’s why he included the instructions for me to come back to deal with his affairs. He died before you guys had a chance to hash through it, so this was something he’d been thinking about. It was his way of releasing me.”
“You’re not thinking about staying?” Jillian wrinkles her nose and looks at me with the same disgust as if I’d farted in her presence.
I fight the urge to laugh. That won’t further my shaky footing. Not that I need her approval but I’m stunned to realize that I want her to accept my offer.
“Can you stay and help run the program?” There’s a set to Rena’s mouth that tells me it’s not really a question. It’s what she’d planned on talking to my father about the day he died.
“No. This is our business, a family business, and She. Is. Not. Family.” The words find their mark, the sharp point dulled only by the slight slur.
Rena squints at Jilli, who’s suddenly intent on the photographs hanging on the back wall. She heard it, too. She turns back to me, waiting for an answer.
“I’m not staying. But I don’t want to be a silent partner either.”
Jillian flails her arms in a dismissive wave. “Sign the damn papers then and go back to your cushy life. We don’t need your suggestions.”
“I have no intention of running the program, much less the stable. But it’s important to me that the program survives and I’ll do whatever I can to make that happen. I’ll help you hire someone to run it if needed. But the program cannot die.” I shift my weight and cross my arms across my chest. It’s a physical exclamation mark I learned from Bruce when he addressed the board or senior leadership.
It has less of an effect on Jilli, though. She raises one eyebrow and matches my crossed arms, although her tone is less belligerent than before. “Why is it so important to you? You stayed away for sixteen years. Now, suddenly, it’s your life’s mission?”
Rena stiffens. “Emma, will you please give us a minute?”
I’m rooted, the answer to Jilli’s accusation burning a trail up my throat.
“Emma, now please.”
I turn to the door but the misery in Jillian’s sagging face stops forward motion. In the lines around her mouth, I see every day of the last sixteen years. The years I’d spent battling guilt and insecurity, forging past betrayal and disappointment, led me to a successful life. To the outside world, I have everything.
To Jillian, I have a life she couldn’t have.
Because I did move on.
For the first time, I see the truth—that she didn’t. She’s living in the same house, doing the same thing. Every day, she sees Jack and the river-shaped scar. I scan the pictures on the wall above her head. Jilli and Tolstoy. Me and Jack. Every day she’s reminded about what she lost, and can’t escape.
Our eyes connect and it’s my H&H sister looking back at me.
In the skip of a heartbeat, her face tightens, all emotion shuttered behind blinds of resentment.
I walk to Jack’s stall and bury my face in his neck, but I still hear the yelling coming from the office.
“Wow,” Ben says from the other side of the stall door. “That must have been some shit bomb you dropped in there.”
“It was.”
“Do tell.” He pushes the half door open and steps inside.
I shake my head, each move digging my forehead deeper into Jack’s silky neck.
From the depths of my denial I hear Tony giving directions to Jack’s stall, then the crisp click of dress shoes walking down the aisle. Now what?
“Emma? I have the papers for you to sign.” With one ear pressed into the horse, Thomas’s voice sounds slightly muffled.
“Good timing.” This shit is going to short-circuit even an industrial-size fan. I force a smile that’s more grimace at Thomas, then turn to Ben. “That was a smoke bomb. This is the grenade.” I make an explosion motion with my hand.
Before I can explain, the office door slams open.
My body reacts, flinching into roly-poly safe mode. It’s going to be okay. Sure it is.
“Never,” Jillian yells and storms out the back door of the barn.
“Wow,” Ben repeats. By the bemused look on his face, he’s enjoying this show.
I pull in a long you-can-do-this breath and leave the safety of Jack’s stall. “Let’s get this over with.”
* * *
An hour later, Thomas Adler drives away, signed papers in his briefcase.
Ben walks over, mirroring my crossed-arm stance. “So, wanna clue a guy in? Rena sent the bombshell away. Told her none of the horses are being sold, at least not yet. What do you know about that?” He bumps my shoulder with his. “Just a heads-up, Tony’s crushed. You may want to make your own coffee for a few days until he gets over it.”
“What did Rena tell you?” I push my hands into the pockets of my jeans and roll forward on the balls of my feet. My nerves are crackling and I feel as though they’ll catch on fire at any moment. If Jillian walked up right now I’d probably disappear with a flaming bang.
“She didn’t say anything. What is up with you? You look like you’re about to explode right out of your skin.”
“I have to get out of here. Can you leave?”
“Sure. I don’t have lessons until the afternoon.”
“Good. You’re driving.”
We get in his car and Ben waits for instructions.
“Back the car out. At the end of the driveway, stop, look both ways, then turn left.”
He gives me a “seriously?” scowl. Ten minutes later I give him directions to The Spinning Ewe.
“Sheep? That’s what will calm you down?” He raises his hands in surrender and pulls into a parking space.
“I discovered this place shortly after I arrived. The owner of the B and B I was staying in suggested it.”
“You knit?”
I laugh at the disbelief on his face.
“Sort of. Not really. The owner taught me how to crochet and I’ve made a scarf and a hat. The beanie is better suited for an elephant than a human being. The scarf was for a giraffe. But I love wearing them anyway. Oh don’t look at me like that.” I mock glare at him. “You’d be surprised how soothing it can be.”
“Well in that case, I’ll buy out the entire store.”
We walk down the pa
th and I divert us to a bench under a tree. I wave at Ceila, who’s fluffing yarn balls in a basket by the door.
After a few minutes, Ben leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and turns to look at me. I suck in air and release the words on the exhale. “The reason the donor pulled the funding from the therapeutic program is because he died. It was my father.”
“Seriously?”
I nod.
“Wow.”
I nod again. “Yesterday, after our ride, I went to see the lawyer. He told me. Can’t say I expected that.”
“I bet.”
“That’s not all. When I was cleaning out his home office, I found a bunch of letters. He’d been corresponding with someone for years. Started before we moved here after Mom’s first episode, and stopped after he sent me off to boarding school. Eight years. His pen pal for eight years was Rena.”
“Whoa.”
“Yup.”
Ben leans back and our shoulders touch. “Why did he send you away?”
I wonder how much to tell him. I wonder how much of the truth I know myself.
“I always thought he did it because he was embarrassed about the accident and was afraid that the news would ruin his reputation. ‘Renowned psychiatrist’s unstable daughter involved in near-fatal crash that killed one horse, injured another, and left two teenagers in serious condition; drinking suspected as cause.’”
“Was it the cause?”
“No. Maybe. But I wasn’t the one drinking. Or driving.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as the sound of brakes locking, metal crunching, and horses’ screaming fills my head. I should have listened to the warning sirens in my head. I should have known better than to get into a fight with her. I should have been stronger.
I should have done so many things differently. Maybe I could have salvaged our friendship and helped her. We were horse-and-heart sisters. I should have been there for her.
Lots of should-haves.
But she hadn’t wanted my help.
“You’ve spent time with Jillian over the last few years. Has she been drinking the entire time?”
Ben releases a whoosh of air that sounds a lot like the word “fuck.”
I nod. “Did others notice?”
“Maybe Rena and Simon but no one from the outside. Honestly, it’s only become a problem again recently.”
Since I’ve been back. The weight of that knowledge karate-kicks the air from my lungs.
We’re both quiet for a moment. Then Ben releases another “fuck,” this one loud and clear.
“Oh, Emma, I didn’t mean…”
I shake my head to make him stop. Every word is another back-fist of guilt. Everyone felt sorry for poor Emma. They all thought I was scarred. But it was Jillian who’d been crying out for help.
“I did this to her.”
“What?” He shifts to get a better look at me, probably trying to decide if I’m serious.
“I did this to her. All Jilli wanted was to be the center of someone’s attention. Her mom was too selfish and screwed up. All she had were Simon and Rena. They were basically her parents. They adored her and gave her everything, but they—well, Rena mostly—were hard on her. That’s where I came in. I was the perfect doll she could twist and turn. I was so hungry for anything resembling a normal relationship, that I became what she wanted me to be. And as long as I was in her shadow we were great.” I pick at a rough piece of wood next to me on the bench and a large sliver comes loose.
“The day of the accident was the last straw for her, I guess. I made the jump-off, she didn’t. The guy she wanted chose me. She had to turn the attention back on her. She couldn’t do anything about the show results, but she definitely could about the guy. I shouldn’t have let it go so easily, but I hated fighting with her. I needed her friendship.”
I swallow. I hadn’t been any better than Jillian back then. She’d needed people to idolize her. I’d needed people to care about me. And if I’m being honest with myself, I knew people gave me the dead-mom/harsh-dad concessions. I never thought of myself as meek but looking back, I can see it. I let people think that and I let myself be that. Because I needed to belong.
I take in a breath of calm country air. “She insisted that she wasn’t drunk. She seemed okay and I took her word for it. It’s what I did. I’d seen her falling-down drunk before, and she wasn’t. We loaded the horses and when I suggested we call Rena to come drive us back, she freaked. I offered to drive and that just made it worse. The sun was going down and it was that weird light, you know that crazy in-between hour that’s not dark and not light and nothing looks quite right?”
Ben nods but keeps his eyes on the sheep grazing a few feet from us.
“It went from fine to out-of-control so fast. One minute we were on the road and the next we were in the pasture, the truck in a tree and the trailer on its side. I remember her pulling my arm and yelling that I had to get in the driver’s seat before anyone came. That I had to say I’d been driving. The next thing I know I’m in the hospital and it’s a week later. Then he sent me away.”
I push the sliver of wood back into the slot it escaped from. It doesn’t fit. I twist it and turn it, but the gap seems to have changed shape. Or maybe it adjusted. Maybe once you leave, there’s no fitting back in.
Jillian had told everyone I’d been driving. That she’d told me to slow down, but I’d been upset because my boyfriend had dumped me, and being an inexperienced driver I’d misjudged the turn.
I’d tried to tell my dad and the nurses what had really happened. No one believed me. I heard them when they thought I was asleep. “She’s had a serious concussion. It’s likely she’ll never fully remember.”
I remembered. I relived that accident in my dreams for years. But no one had wanted to hear. And my father made the decision to send me, and the truth, away.
“Why do you think he did that?” Ben squeezes my hand.
A sheep bleats from the other side of the fence and sticks his black head between the wood slats, blinking at us.
It suddenly makes sense. My father hadn’t been protecting himself, he’d been protecting me and Rena.
He had believed me. But he knew that Jillian’s involvement would shatter Rena. And that my connection to Jillian needed to be severed.
“Come on.” I stand and pull on Ben’s hand. “Let’s go see what new colors Ceila has come up with.”
Half an hour later Ben pushes me out the door of The Spinning Ewe, a large bag swinging from my hand. Instead of walking to the car, I lead him to the fence surrounding the pasture. We watch the tranquil scene, the sheep barely registering our presence.
“I had papers drawn up to fund the therapeutic program with the money from his condo and medical practice. And a large chunk of the money I was to inherit.” My voice catches on that word. I was used to not having my father around. But he was always out there. There was always the hope that we’d find a way to connect.
The only thing out there now is an inheritance.
Ben turns to face me. “What about you?”
“Rena wants me to stay and help with the program. But you already know that.”
He doesn’t try to hide the smile. “Yup.”
“Don’t get all smug. I said no. I have a job to get back to. The last week has been fun, but it’s like being on vacation. You can pretend to be someone else but at some point, it’s back to reality.”
He takes my hand and tugs me toward the car. “Reality is, I have a lesson to teach. And there’s a black horse in that barn who can teach you a thing about reality. Listen to him.”
We’re quiet for the ride home, each lost in our respective worlds. Except the world that fit me only two weeks ago feels far away. Will I settle back in, like after a vacation? Or is Ben right and my reality has shifted?
We turn into the driveway of Jumping Frog Farm and Ben parks the car. He pats me on the knee, then points to the back paddocks. “The answer is out there. Good luck.”
He gets out and walks into the barn, riding boots stamping an easy cadence.
Advice from a black horse and forest spirits. How can I go wrong?
37
The mid-October sun turned down the heat during the short drive back from The Spinning Ewe. I zip my fleece jacket and round the barn, heading for the back paddocks. Ben’s laugh tumbles out the barn doors and I can’t help but smile.
Jukebox bleats as I approach. Jack steps around him, leans into the fence, and nickers. “Hey, guys.” I pull two mints from my pockets and distribute them, careful to arc my fingers back as much as possible when it’s Jukebox’s turn. He attempts to frisk me between the rails. He’s figured me out, he knows the pocket where I keep the mint stash. I hop out of the way. “Think I don’t know your tricks, mister?” He bleats again, then turns and flicks his mitten-shaped tail at me.
A deep gravelly chuckle from behind surprises me and I whip around. Simon is leaning against the rails of the paddock across the path. He’d been hidden behind the tractor shed as I walked up.
“Why are you hiding back there?” I cross to where he’s wedged between the wood fence and the metal shed. It’s warmer here and I weasel my way next to him.
“Who says I’m hiding?”
I point at the shiny metal wall behind us.
“Okay, I’m hiding. I needed some quiet. Rena and Jillian have been going at each other all day. They’re making me crazy.”
My stomach knots. “Because of me?”
He nods, the nod turns to a shake. “More than you.”
That answer doesn’t exactly ease the knot. “It’s time for me to get back to Chicago. I don’t think my being here is good for Jilli.”
“You being here has caused a bit of upheaval. No question about that. But as painful as it can be, that kick in the ass may be just the ticket.”
I suck in a shallow breath. It’s not like Simon to be so blunt. That’s Rena’s specialty.
We watch the two rescue ponies grazing in the paddock. Every step the chestnut makes, the little black mare matches. She lifts her head and looks our way, then leans into her buddy for comfort.
“You did a good thing bringing her here. She’s a sweet girl. I think she’ll end up a nice addition to the therapeutic program.”