The Riding Master

by Alexandrea Weis

  An uncomfortable quiet settled in the hallway as Trent leaned against the closed front doors with his back to Rayne.

  She did not know if his reluctance to face her was a sign of his guilt or innocence, but the cold stab of anguish in her gut made Rayne think that no matter his explanation, it would not help his cause.

  “You know nothing happened.” His voice was strained as he continued to lean against the doors.

  Rayne stood riveted to her spot on the hardwood floor. “I know nothing happened today…but what about tomorrow?”

  When he turned around, the fury in his eyes jarred her. That ever-present confidence he always seemed to possess had disappeared. “What is that supposed to mean?” He pointed his finger determinedly at the doors. “Do you think I still want to be with Lisa? The reason I ended it was because she confessed to me that she had been sleeping with the husbands of half her tenants at the stables. After hearing something like that, I couldn’t stay. It sickened me. She sickened me.”

  “I can understand that. But perhaps if you had told me that before—”

  “Before?” Infuriated, he slapped his hand against his chest. “Now you don’t trust me because I didn’t want to tell you the truth about why I left her?”

  Rayne studied his rigid posture, the icy anger in his eyes, and the way his ropelike muscles were bulging in his arms. She found it odd how in a split second everything she had come to know about him, all the idiosyncrasies she had grown used to, could simply vanish without a trace. The man before her was nothing like the one she had let into her life. This Trent Newbury was almost a stranger.

  “Trust?” The word tumbled from her lips as its meaning tore at her heart. “I don’t know if I ever trusted you.”

  “Where is this coming from? You can’t be jealous of her. She is nothing to me.”

  Rayne felt his house key in her hand. “Not jealous, perhaps…just seeing the real you for the first time.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  His ugly tone made her flinch. “I guess I’m just beginning to wonder where I stand in that long line of women you’ve been with.” Rayne moved to the Shaker table by his front door. “I don’t want to end up being just another meaningless fling.”

  He came up to her, holding up his hands as if she were a nervous horse about to bolt. “You’re upset and not thinking clearly.”

  She placed his key on the table while hiding her key tied with the panties in her other hand. “I am thinking very clearly, Trent. For the first time since we met, I’m beginning to understand.” Focusing her eyes on the bright gold key she had put on the table, she refused to look at him.

  “Understand what?” He stood next to her, resting his hand on her arm. “What is there to understand? I care for you, Rayne. I don’t want anyone else.”

  Her eyes shifted to the floor. “You know, I have always wondered why me? Why would someone like you be interested in me?”

  “You know why. You’re not like her. You don’t see me as a meal ticket.” He gestured to the front doors. “You’re different from all the rest.”

  “All the rest of what, Trent? The women you have been with?” She pointed to the key on the table. “I was coming here to give you your key back and ask for a little time apart, but now I think we’re done.”

  He reached for her, but Rayne shied away from him.

  She stepped around him to the doors. “I have to go.”

  “No, Rayne.” He pulled her to him. “I know this is not what you want. You can’t doubt me, not after all we’ve shared.”

  All we’ve shared? Infuriated by his words, she broke free of his embrace. “What did we share, Trent? A few rolls in the sack to what…break that skittish horse you so desperately wanted to ride? Well, you got what you wanted.” She yanked the doors open and ran outside.

  Rayne did not remember running down the wide steps to the street, or even climbing into her car. When her mind began to register what had just happened, she was already driving away from his house, pressing her foot down on the accelerator and desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and the man who had just broken her heart.

  ***

  Instead of going home, Rayne drove to the stables. She needed to get out in the brisk fall air and occupy her mind with something, anything other than Trent. After pulling into the shell-covered parking lot next to the red and white barn, she wiped away the tears that had stained her cheeks.

  Not since she had walked in on Foster and Connie had she felt such heartache. In a way, Lisa Shelby had been right; all men were the same. And even though he may not have treated her quite like Foster, in the end she was convinced Trent would have tossed her aside just as her ex had done.

  Walking up to Bob’s stall, she was sure that she had made the right choice. But still the ache in her heart endured, creating that speck of doubt that maybe she had been wrong about the man and his intentions.

  “No. I’m right, aren’t I, Bob?”

  Bob’s long face held no answers, no hints of wisdom, making Rayne almost laugh at her question.

  “Come on, buddy. Let’s go jump some fences and I can tell you all about it.”

  The time with Bob worked wonders for her. As they jumped fences she had set up around the ring, her mind went over the confrontation with Trent. As she rode, she talked to Bob, told him the entire story and voiced her concerns about Trent. It was what she had done in high school with boys that confounded her, and after fights with her mother. She had spent hours on her horse, talking out her problems. During her divorce, she decided her horse was cheaper than a psychologist, and a lot less judgmental. Through the years, all the time she had spent in the saddle had kept her grounded and sane. And now, when she needed him most, Bob was there like a close friend, willing to listen to her every word.

  After an hour in the jumping ring, her body and her mind were weary. She had run through all possible scenarios with Trent, but every conclusion had reinforced her decision. Sometimes you had to fight to protect your heart, no matter how painful the outcome. For Rayne, love always ended badly, and all those she had loved had left her. Better never to love, and avoid all the misery.

  ***

  It was late in the evening when Rayne returned home from the stables. Determined to put the past with Trent behind her, she greeted Frank with a hearty pat on the head and went to her refrigerator, eager for orange juice.

  As she was chugging from the carton, she heard the answering machine in her bedroom click on.

  “I’ve left you ten voice mails on your cell phone, and now I’m resorting to this goddamned machine. I know I have been with a lot of women, and that you’re scared, but you can’t just walk away. I want a chance to show you that I’m not the man I was. You have changed me. Please pick this up. I know you’re home, probably drinking your orange juice and telling Frank what a shit I am.”

  Rayne looked down at the carton of orange juice in her hand and then to Frank’s fuzzy face on the kitchen floor next to her.

  “Just talk to me, Rayne. Let’s work this through. I can come over or you can come back here. I’ll do whatever it takes. Please, think about this.”

  The machine clicked off, and once again the house was still. She stood in the kitchen, considering his plea. After several minutes of deliberation, she replaced the juice on the refrigerator shelf, walked into her bedroom, and deleted Trent’s message.

  “It’s for the best.”

  Without looking back at the machine, she hurried to her bathroom, eager to wash the dust, sweat, and tears from her body. She was not healed, but Rayne knew she would grow stronger. Soon, she would be able to resist him completely, or at least she hoped she would. Parts of her body still longed for him, but years of dealing with Estelle had taught Rayne that the head must rule the heart; otherwise you would just end up a lonely old drunk with an empty house, a broken spirit, and a lifetime full of regrets.

  Chapter 22

  The rest of the w
eek, Rayne spent her days hiding in her lab. She stayed away from the break room to avoid running into Lindsey. She did not want to have to explain what had happened with Trent, nor did she want to lie to her friend and tell her everything was fine. Rayne retreated to her broom closet of an office for breaks and skipped taking her lunch hour. Her desire for food had waned considerably since leaving Trent’s house, and she wanted nothing more than to be buried in work and to forget about her life. At the end of her workday, she would dash out the back office door to the parking lot, hoping to get away unseen.

  Afternoons were spent with Bob. She came to cherish the few hours she spent with him working over fences in the back ring. His steady demeanor and gentle nature comforted her during those first few days. Thankfully, Trent never made an appearance at the stables when she was there, and he gave up calling her cell phone and house. Rayne hoped that it was over, and she could get back to her life.

  Bob was making rapid progress over the fences, and Rayne itched to tell Trent about it. He had encouraged her, schooled her, and offered a lot of advice. There were times when losing the friend who had supported her hurt more than the giving up the man who had made love to her.

  But the nights were the worst for Rayne. After the activities of the day had faded, and her mind was left to wander in the darkness of her bedroom, her thoughts would always stray back to Trent. The way he had held her, kissed her, and made her feel so content. It was when she was inundated by those emotions that the tears would creep over the edges of her eyelids and trickle down her cheeks. And after the tears came the inevitable self-loathing. She was ashamed to admit that despite her best efforts, she had not been able to completely close off the walls of her heart.

  ***

  By Friday morning, Rayne was feeling better. The crying bouts had ended, and her appetite had returned, at least a little. When her gray Highlander drove up to the side entrance of her mother’s mansion, she felt certain she could tell Estelle everything without falling apart.

  “You look like shit,” Estelle commented as soon as she climbed into Rayne’s car. “What happened?”

  Rayne glimpsed her mother’s bright yellow shirt dress, black, low-heeled pumps, and matching black handbag. She found it amazing that no matter where the woman went, drunk or sober, she always looked her best.

  “Nothing happened, Mother. I’m just…tired.” She squared her shoulders, ready for another altercation, and put the car into gear.

  “Something happened. Was it with Trent? I bet it was. You always used to get that same sour face when something was wrong.”

  Rayne kept her eyes on the road. “If you must know, Trent and I are done. We were not well-suited.”

  Estelle’s pale, powdered face fell. “You’re kidding? You expect me to buy that bullshit? He was crazy about you.” She tossed a hand in the air. “You see, Raynie, there you go. You chased off another one, didn’t you? What was it? Did he get too close? Want more than you were willing to give? Which I’m sure wasn’t much, knowing you.”

  “Christ, Mother! Why are you always attacking me? And what makes you think it was me? Maybe the guy was a pervert, maybe he was seeing other women on the side, and maybe I just didn’t like him. Did you ever figure on that?”

  Estelle’s cold snicker made Rayne’s blood turn to ice. “You never were a very good liar, Raynie. I can see it in your face. So what happened?”

  Perturbed that the woman who was as motherly as boiled cabbage knew her so well, Rayne shifted in her seat as her hands clenched the steering wheel. “I went to Trent’s house last week and found his former lover naked in his living room.”

  Estelle sat back as her big blue eyes scoured her daughter’s profile. “And where was Trent?”

  Rayne kept her attention on the street ahead. “Coming out of his office, fully clothed. He claims nothing happened and that she just showed up wanting him back, but I’m not completely convinced.”

  “I’m sure he was telling you the truth.”

  Rayne gawked at her mother. “How can you say that? You weren’t there. You didn’t see them together.”

  “I saw how he looked at you. He would never jeopardize what he had with you to jump into bed with another woman. Trent wants someone strong, capable, sophisticated, and who can make him proud…he wants a woman like you.”

  “Me?” Rayne balked. “What makes you think he ever wanted me?”

  “Because he’s a lot like your father. Men like your father and Trent are never interested in playing games. They speak their minds, tell you what is in their hearts, and once committed, never sleep around.” She patted the black handbag in her lap. “I knew the day I met your father what kind of man he was. That’s why I married him, because I wanted an honest husband, not a rich one.”

  “Then why were you so unhappy with Dad? If he was what you wanted, why did you make his life hell?”

  “I never made his life hell. I was happy with him, in the beginning.” Estelle’s pink-painted mouth slanted downward. “After being courted by so many men, I never thought I would miss the attention when I married. But I did. My father made me believe I was only good for marriage. He wanted to use me to tie his business to some prestigious family, and when I married a nobody from El Paso, he never forgave me.”

  “Grandpa John was a spiteful, selfish man who resented everyone,” Rayne vented.

  “Yes, he was,” Estelle agreed with a nod of her head. “But he was still my father.”

  “But you lived your life on your terms, Mother. You married for love.”

  Estelle smiled. It was a warm, emotional gesture, the likes of which Rayne had never seen on her mother’s face. All her life, she remembered scowls, frowns, and looks of complete disgust, but she could never remember such a smile.

  “Do you know the real reason why I married your father?” Estelle asked with a hint of melancholy in her voice. “When he looked at me he saw me…not the pretty socialite, the wealthy meatpacker’s daughter, or the party girl. He saw Estelle, the real one on the inside. I knew I’d better marry a man who loved me, because no matter what happened he would always be able to put up with my crap. And your father did. Until the day he died, he put up with my drinking, my tantrums, my shopping binges, and my outbursts.”

  Despite all of her mother’s embarrassing moments, and the pain they had brought her family, Rayne recalled how her father would always smile, kiss her mother’s cheek, and take everything in stride. Up until that moment, she had believed it was just his nature and never his love for his wife shining through.

  “When I look at Trent, I see the same thing I saw in your father,” Estelle went on. “He sees you, Raynie. Foster saw the pretty woman who could bolster his ego and his business, but he never knew you. That inquisitive, driven girl who always had to show the world that she was worth the effort.” Estelle let go a long sigh as she turned to her window. “But that’s probably my fault. Maybe if I had praised you more, and gone to those horse shows of yours, you would never have fought so hard to be noticed.”

  Rayne gulped back the lump forming in her throat. “Well, you made me tough. You taught me I needed to fight to get ahead in life. That helped me to win state championships. It made me competitive.”

  “But it has also made you stubborn, and that has kept you from Trent.”

  “Trent and I are over. It’s for the best, Mother.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, Raynie. I know better."

  Rayne did not bother to argue. There was no point. She never could win an argument with Estelle and was not about to try. Some rocks were never meant to be budged.

  ***

  The despair in Rayne’s heart skyrocketed when she read the blood work results Dr. Emerit handed to her. Sitting in the chair across from his walnut desk with framed pictures of his wife and two sons scattered about, Rayne shook her head. The findings were worse than she had feared.

  “Mother, you have to stop drinking right this minute.”

  “I’m a
fraid Rayne is right, Estelle,” the chubby figure of Dr. Charles Emerit concurred from his chair behind the desk. He pushed the thick black glasses back on his pasty, round face. “If you don’t stop, you’ll be deathly ill in less than a year.”

  Estelle’s glowered at Dr. Emerit. “Charlie, you’ve been telling me that for years now, and I’m still here.”

  Dr. Emerit leaned his arms on his desk and pensively studied Estelle. “This is different. Your liver is dying. If you stop drinking now, you’ll buy some time.” He held up his pudgy, short hand. “Only buy some time. The damage is done, and eventually your liver will fail.”

  Estelle twisted the strap of the black handbag resting in her lap. “Then I’ll get another one. They do liver transplants all the time, right?”

  “Estelle, you might not be a candidate for that.” Dr. Emerit frowned and sat back in his chair. “Your body may be too weak at that point to take on a new liver, and I know you’re too damn set in your ways to stick to the regime necessary to maintain a new liver. There are pills, frequent medical checks, blood work, and a whole host of issues to consider.” His bloodshot hazel eyes returned to Rayne. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Mother, you just don’t stick a new liver in someone and think that’s it. There are a lot of things that have to be done to keep your body from rejecting the foreign tissue.”

  Estelle did not bat an eye. She sat demurely in her chair, smirking at her daughter. “I’m not a complete idiot. I have a computer you know, and have researched this on the Internet.”

  “Did you actually read any of it?” Rayne demanded, raising her voice.

  “Perhaps it’s best if you two take this information home and talk about it,” Dr. Emerit suggested. “Estelle, you already know what you need to do. I’ve told you a hundred times before, but if you choose to continue drinking, you need to be prepared for the consequences. Liver failure is a slow, painful death.”

  Estelle’s mouth dropped open. “Charlie Emerit, that is too much.”