The Riding Master

by Alexandrea Weis

  He shook his head and stood from his chair. “Nothing is too much with you, Estelle. I’ve known you since you were in high school with my older sister, and you were just as stubborn then as you are now.” He buttoned up his white coat. “I’ll care for you no matter what you decide, but you have to know the truth.”

  Estelle stood up. “Fine. Raynie, let’s go.”

  Rayne placed the lab results on Dr. Emerit’s desk. “Thanks, Uncle Charlie.” She smiled for him. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Don’t be nice to him,” Estelle scolded. “He’s an old coot.”

  “Takes one to know one, Estelle.” Dr. Emerit came around to Estelle’s side and kissed her cheek. “You should have taken me up on my marriage proposal. Imagine all the health care bills you would have saved on.”

  She swatted his arm. “You were fourteen and had a crush on me, Charlie Emerit.”

  Dr. Emerit winked at Rayne. “Still do.” He kissed Rayne’s cheek. “Call me if you need me.”

  Rayne nodded. “I will.”

  Dr. Emerit’s worried eyes veered back to Estelle. “Please think about this. You can’t just ignore this problem like you do everything else in your life, Estelle. This will kill you if you don’t do something now.”

  Estelle offered no reply, made no argument against his concerns. She simply patted down the skirt of her yellow shirt dress, attempting to wipe away the imaginary wrinkles. After slinging the strap of her purse over her thin arm, she marched toward the office door. A dull thud rocked the office as the door bashed against the wall after she flung it open.

  Rayne sighed and lowered her head.

  “Talk to her, Rayne, sooner than later,” Dr. Emerit pleaded after Estelle had exited the room. “You know what those lab results mean. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  Rayne gave him a curt nod and trudged toward the door. She did know what those lab results meant, and somehow she suspected her mother did, too. She questioned if Estelle was ready to face death the same way she had faced life, on her terms.

  ***

  In the car on the way back to Highland Park, mother and daughter spoke little to each other. But when Rayne’s SUV parked beneath the portico by the rear entrance, Estelle dropped a bombshell.

  “I’m selling the house.”

  Rayne was too stunned to respond.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Raynie. You’ve been bugging me to sell it for years.”

  “When…when did you decide this?” Rayne managed to get out.

  Estelle placed her hand on the car door. “After we left Charlie Emerit’s. I figure if I’m dying, it’s time to sell.”

  Exasperated, Rayne crashed her head back into her headrest. “You’re not dying. I mean you won’t die, if you give up drinking. If you stop, you could arrest the damage, and your liver might improve. I’ve seen it before in alcoholics.”

  “I am not an alcoholic,” Estelle loudly proclaimed.

  Rayne shook her head, snickering. “Yes, you are, Mother. You drink too much, you’ve got the bad liver to prove it, and you’ve been in and out of how many rehabs? You’re a drunk. You’ve always been a drunk. When are you going to start admitting it?”

  Estelle said nothing, and Rayne was almost as shocked by her lack of words as she had always been by her scathing rebukes. As she slumped in her seat, Rayne swore she could see a crack forming in her mother’s stubborn determination.

  “I guess when you hear your daughter say it, it must be true.”

  Rayne pretended to view unkempt gardens along the side of the house, quashing the swell of pain in her heart. “You needed to know the truth…isn’t that what you always say to me?”

  “Yes, it is.” Trembling, Estelle reached for the door handle. “I’ll let you know when I put the house up.”

  “You do that.” Rayne balled her hands into fists, choking off her hankering to soothe her mother’s distress.

  “Thank you for coming to the doctor with me, Raynie.” Estelle stood from the car. “I appreciate it.”

  Rayne put the car into gear. “Just stop drinking, Mother, for both our sakes.”

  Once Estelle had made it in the double doors of her side entrance, Rayne turned the car back down the driveway.

  “I bet she goes right inside and pops open a bottle of scotch to celebrate.”

  With visions of Estelle’s long, debilitating decline from alcoholism infusing her ire, Rayne made the trek home to Copper Canyon. She had enough to worry about without adding her mother’s bitterness to her sordid pile of troubles.

  Chapter 23

  Saturday morning, Rayne was at the stables with the rising sun. Eager to get in a brief workout before her morning classes, she was tacking up Bob when a throaty voice interrupted to her.

  “Man, do we need to talk.”

  Standing by her tack room door and wearing her usual beige jodhpurs, black boots, and a dark red T-shirt, Rebecca looked as if she had just come from an early morning ride. Her bleached blonde hair was tossed about her head, her boots were dusty, and her pink lipstick was faded.

  “In one week, I’ve seen you go from floating on air to looking like the world is ending. My riding master has been distracted as hell, and keeps asking if I’ve seen you. You want to tell me what is going on with the two of you?”

  Rayne secured the girth on her saddle. “It’s over between us.”

  “Over? Oh, no!” Rebecca’s pudgy hand clamped down on Rayne’s wrist. “We’re going to talk about this.”

  As Rebecca dragged her away, Rayne waved back at Bob, still tied to the post by her tack room door. “Wait, I have to get in an early work out before my lessons.”

  “Forget it.” Rebecca pulled Rayne to her open office door. After letting her go, she pointed inside. “Get in there.”

  Glancing back at Bob, Rayne figured he could keep for a few minutes. Walking into the air-conditioned office, she went to a chair beside the small wooden desk, folded her arms, and flopped down.

  Slamming the office door, Rebecca sprinted across the room to her desk, but did not take her seat. “So what is this crap about calling it off? Last time we talked, you were walking on cloud nine after your night in the city.”

  Rayne took in a deep breath and sat up in her chair. “Last week, when I went over to Trent’s, Lisa Shelby was there.”

  Rebecca’s dyed blonde eyebrows went up ever so slightly on her forehead. “Lisa Shelby?”

  “Yes. She was naked and dripping wet from skinny-dipping in his pool.”

  Rebecca stared down at Rayne, seemingly unimpressed. “And was Trent with her?”

  “He came out from his office and acted surprised to see her. She was there trying to get him to come back to Shelby Stables. When he wasn’t looking, she took off her clothes and jumped in his pool. That was about the time I used the key he gave me and walked in the door.”

  “Wait, he gave you his key?”

  “Last weekend, when we spent the night at The Joule.”

  “But you never told me he gave you his house key.” Rebecca edged forward, intrigued.

  “Doesn’t matter now. When I saw Lisa Shelby there I—”

  “Rayne, you can’t honestly believe anything happened between the two of them.” Rebecca sat down in the chair behind her desk.

  “Perhaps, but seeing Lisa Shelby in his house, naked…something just snapped. I suddenly pictured all the other women he had been with, and there have been quite a few.” Rayne shook her head and set her eyes on the top of the desk. “All I could see was this long line of naked women parading about his living room, and I thought…what in the hell am I doing with this guy?”

  “Having great sex,” Rebecca laughed.

  Racked by doubt, Rayne leaned forward with her hands clasped tightly together. “But how do I know I’m not just another woman he will eventually grow tired of?”

  “You don’t. Nobody knows that. You just go into every relationship hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.” Rebecca’s lips curved
into an understanding smile. “Searching for someone is masochistic in a way; we know we may get hurt, desperately want to believe we won’t, and when we do get dumped, we aren’t surprised. But that’s what everyone does when the goal is happiness. You do whatever it takes to get there, and pray this will be the one who makes the world feel like the wonderful place you know it can be.” She stood from her chair. “That’s what Trent did for you and still does for you, doesn’t he?”

  Rayne bit her lower lip, attempting to look tough. “No. That’s all over and done with.”

  “You can’t fool me, kiddo. You’re still crazy about him, and if you ask me, he hasn’t given up on you, either.”

  Rayne stood up, shaking off Rebecca’s observation. “You’re wrong. I think he has given up.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” Rebecca argued, her brown eyes swimming with concern. “Trent is a very competitive man. He doesn’t walk away from what he wants, and he wants you. I would hazard a guess that he’s hanging back and giving you some space for a while. You always were the kind that needed to be approached cautiously.”

  The comment astonished Rayne. “He called me a skittish horse once.”

  “How right he was.” Rebecca shook her head as she walked to the office door. “You may not like what I’m going to say, but I think you need to hear it. Trent Newbury is good for you, Rayne. I watched you during the years you were married to Foster and then after the divorce. You always seemed so withdrawn, like you were afraid to be a part of the world. But with Trent, you became confident, and I got a taste of the young woman you were, that championship rider who was an aggressive competitor and took chances. Now if a man can do that for you…he might just be worth hanging on to.”

  Rayne knew part of what Rebecca said was true, Trent had given her back the confidence Foster had taken away, but she could never trust him with her heart again. “Nice try, Rebecca, but we’re finished.”

  “And what happens when you see him again? You two are going to run into each other sooner or later. What will you do?”

  Rayne went to the door, contemplating the question. “I know it might be uncomfortable at first, but maybe after a while it will get easier for us to be together.”

  “What about the Golden Farms Horse Show next week?” Rebecca went on. “Are you’re still going?”

  Rayne stretched for the handle on the office door. “I’m an instructor at your stables and expected to show. I’ll go.”

  Rebecca clucked like a mother hen and waved her out the door. “You’re a stubborn fool, Rayne Greer. I hope you know that.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Rayne pushed the door open and stepped outside.

  Her determination against Trent was now more ardent than ever. She had to keep her resolve steadfast and stick to the course she had set. Rayne knew it would not be easy, but she could not imagine handling it any other way.

  ***

  It was after five that evening when Rayne pulled into her single car garage and turned off the engine. Taking a minute to close her eyes and set her head back against the seat, Rayne dreaded the long, lonely Saturday night ahead without Trent.

  A gentle rapping on her passenger window made her jump.

  Standing outside of her car was her ex-husband. With his gray hair neatly slicked back, and wearing a white dress shirt, Foster looked as if he were going out for a casual night on the town. His everyday stainless Rolex on his wrist shimmered in the dull garage overhead lights.

  “What are you doing here?” Rayne demanded, climbing out of her Highlander.

  He motioned to the street. “I saw you pull in and I wanted to talk to you.”

  His red Porsche Cayenne Turbo was parked along the curb in front of her house, and Rayne brooded over how she had could have missed it. But her mind had been somewhere else for days, and guessed a masked gunman could have walked up to her and she would never have noticed.

  After taking her blue backpack from the front seat, she stepped back from the car. “What do you want, Foster?”

  “To talk,” he declared. “Estelle phoned me. She told me about the tests.”

  Aggravated that her mother had called her ex, yet again, Rayne smacked her car door closed, causing a loud “whump” to echo about the garage. “Why did she call you?”

  “She said she needed a real estate agent because she was selling the house.” He kicked at something on the garage floor with the toe of his black leather loafer. “We ended up talking a good bit about you,” he softly confided.

  “Me?” Rayne went around her car toward the short walkway that led to her back door. “That woman never wants to talk about me.” She fumbled with the keys in her hand.

  Foster followed her along the walkway. “She also told me you broke up with Trent.”

  Damn that woman! Gritting her teeth, she placed her key in the lock of her back door. “She shouldn’t have said anything to you.”

  “Well, she did.” He paused behind her. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  The lock gave way and Rayne pushed her back door open. Once inside, she hit the code on her alarm panel. “You didn’t need to drive all the way up here to check on me.”

  He stepped in the back door. “No, but I wanted to.”

  When Rayne walked through the hallway toward her kitchen, she could hear Frank’s heavy feet scampering from the living room. Stepping into the kitchen, she threw her backpack onto the countertop.

  “I’m fine, Foster,” she gnarled.

  After Frank galloped into the kitchen, he halted and studied Foster with his soft brown eyes. Then, without hesitation, he bounded up and put his front paws all over Foster’s black trousers.

  “Frank!” Rayne grabbed for the dog’s black collar.

  “I didn’t know you got a dog.” Foster hurriedly wiped his pants and then began meticulously picking at stray Frank hairs.

  Rayne observed the man’s fastidious movements, and for a moment missed Trent’s relaxed attitude.

  “Let me put him outside.” With a great deal of effort, she finally got a bouncing and excited Frank out the kitchen door that led to the yard.

  After Foster was appeased that his clothes were once again pristine, he pulled up a wooden stool and had a seat at her breakfast bar.

  “I have to admit, the place appears rather…homey.” His disapproving blue eyes surveyed the living room furniture and smattering of framed travel posters on her eggshell-painted walls.

  “You hate this place. You told me that the day I moved in.”

  He turned back to her. “I hate that you chose to live here. I would have given you money for a bigger house.”

  “You know I did not want you buying me a house after the divorce.” She went to her refrigerator. “Besides, I couldn’t keep up with the taxes on anything bigger than this.”

  “I told you I would take care of you, even if we weren’t married. I promised you that I would always be there for you.”

  Rayne took out the orange juice from the refrigerator. “You also promised to ‘honor and keep’ me ‘until death us do part,’ yet here we are, divorced.”

  He sighed and had a seat on the stool. “You know I didn’t want the divorce.”

  She pounded the orange juice carton on the granite countertop, wishing it was his head. “I found you with Connie in our bed. What in the hell was I supposed to do? Look the other way?”

  He rested his arms on the breakfast bar, shrugging. “Why not? You knew I would grow tired of the girl. She wasn’t you.”

  “Jesus, Foster. We were married for eight years, but I have to wonder if you ever really knew me. I would never have looked the other way when it came to cheating.”

  “All right.” He held up his hands, assuaging her fury. “I was wrong. Connie was a stupid mistake, and I have paid my dues for getting involved with her.” He put his hands down on the beige granite countertop and wistfully smiled. “I knew the moment you found us in bed together that I had screwed up, but I never meant to hurt y
ou, Rayne.”

  “The minute you took that woman into our bed you hurt me, Foster. You knew that.”

  “You’re right.” He bowed his head penitently. “I’m sorry; I didn’t come here to rehash the past.”

  Trepidation nibbled at Rayne as she looked over her ex-husband. “Why did you come here?”

  He splayed his hands on the countertop, never raising his head. “To say I was wrong to let you go. I don’t think I comprehended how wrong until Connie started living with me. She had none of your class or easygoing manner, and she was hard as hell to live with.”

  Shaking her head, she picked up the orange juice. “Then why let her move in?”

  “You left, and I.…” His eyes meet hers. “I was lonely without you.”

  She smirked and then took a swig of the orange juice.

  Foster rose from his stool and went to the oak cabinets behind her. He opened a few cabinet doors until he found the one containing the glasses. Taking a tall iced tea glass, he walked over to Rayne’s side.

  “I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed,” he stated, placing the glass on the countertop next to her.

  She ignored the glass and continued drinking from the carton.

  “You know how that used to drive me crazy, Rayne.”

  She lowered the carton from her lips. “Perhaps you should just get to the point, Foster.”

  “Fine.” He let out a long breath, plucking up his courage. “I’m here because I want us to work this out and start over. I want you back home.”

  She put the carton down on the countertop, considering his statement. “What about Lisa Shelby? At the party, you two looked real cozy. Maybe she wants to move in with you.”

  He chuckled, a sinister sound that used to make Rayne cringe when they were first married. Now, she just found it annoying as hell. “I have no interest in that woman,” Foster protested. “Lisa Shelby is well-known by several of my business associates. She has quite a reputation as a gold digger. I only met her at that party because of Selene.”

  A slow, unsettling feeling rose from her toes. “Selene? What has she got to do with you and Lisa Shelby?”

  “I was at Tyler Moore’s because Selene had phoned me and said that you were going to be there, but I never expected to see you with Trent. After you left, Lisa let it slip that the real reason she was hitting on me was because Selene had suggested it in order to make Trent jealous. It seems Selene told her Trent was going to the party with you. I heard all about their affair and how he ended it when he found out about her reputation. Lisa wanted him back, and was only at that party because she thought she could win him away from you.”