She held me and I let myself let go, because I really needed to. When I was finally still and quiet I detached myself and turned away. The relief was starting to give way to shame. Erica stayed where she was, even as the minutes passed. Finally I wiped my eyes roughly with the back of my hand and turned around. I was afraid I might start crying again, but it seemed like I was done with that. I had no words, no ideas. But she seemed to know what I needed.
Erica looked in my eyes resolutely. “Let’s go get Harry,” she said.
I nodded, and followed her as she started walking. She was right. Harry was the future now. He really was.
God help me.
Erica
I stared through the thick pane of glass. The name of the café was etched onto it in bold, backward letters. I looked back down at the small plate in front of me. I wasn’t hungry, especially for what I’d ordered. I picked up a crouton that was soaking up ranch dressing and popped it in my mouth. The crunch echoed around in my head.
Jennifer was talking animatedly about something I couldn’t focus on. She was actually eating her salad. Such a good girl, I thought absurdly.
“Erica?” Jennifer looked at me, her face questioning. It was obvious I wasn’t participating in lunch. My body might’ve been here on the glossy, dark green vinyl of the booth, but my soul hadn’t traveled the thirty miles with it. And my body was here only by sheer mental force.
“I’m sorry,” I said lamely. I was, too. “My mind’s not all there right now,” I added superfluously.
“I kinda noticed.” Jennifer’s head went to the side. “Do you wanna talk about what’s going on?” She was curious, but not pushy. I appreciated Jennifer’s mellow, slightly dumb sweetness in times like this. Ashley would’ve been all over me like beetles on carrion.
“It’s just family stuff,” I lied easily. “I feel like no one trusts me to do my own thing. It’s really getting me down.” That should close the subject.
Jennifer’s eyes widened. “That’s…wow. I’m sorry to hear that.” She twisted her smooth, commercially attractive blonde hair, and looked down at the tabletop.
“So,” I said. “Distract me. What’s new with you?”
She perked up again. “Well, like I said, Mark’s been all flirty, and I know he wants to date again, but I’m just like, should I really go back down that road again? I don’t know if I should…but he is cute.” She sighed. “I’m so torn, you know?”
I winced. I hated that expression, especially in such a non-vital context. “You and Mark used to date?” I asked without enthusiasm.
“Oh, yeah, we’ve been on and off for a while now. It’s great when we’re together, but he always sees other girls while he’s supposed to be ‘taking some time just to be alone’.”
A glare settled onto my face. “Don’t waste any more of your time, Jen,” I barked. “He’s just a lying, self-indulgent little child.”
Jennifer stared at me with slight horror. “Wow…I had no idea you…didn’t like Mark that much.”
I stabbed my salad with a fork. “I’m not so fond of Mark DeWayne right now.”
“Okay then.” Jennifer looked nervous. “Sorry for bringing him up.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I smiled to try and put her at ease. “But seriously, Jen. Let him go already.”
“Okay.” She giggled a little. “It’s just so hard to resist him…”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s not even that hot,” I muttered.
Jennifer looked at me, her eyebrows all crooked. “Who do you consider hot?”
I froze. Oh no. Walked right into that one, didn’t I? “Umm…I dunno, really,” I mumbled lamely.
Jennifer’s eyes were pinched. “You’re acting really weird, Erica.”
If Jennifer’s noticing, and commenting, this is bad. Really, exceptionally bad. I stared at my hands. “I know.”
“If you wanna tell me what’s up, I’ll listen,” Jennifer said.
I looked up at her. “Thanks. Right now I don’t want to. But I appreciate it, Jen. I do.”
She smiled. “I better get going pretty soon. I’m supposed to ride some horses for my dad this afternoon.”
“Have fun with that.” I stood up to hug her. “Sorry I was such lousy company today.”
“No, it was fun!” Jennifer hurried to say. She grinned and waved as she walked out of the café./p>
Back in my truck, I didn’t crank Heart or put the radio on. I drove along, letting what was in my head accompany me.
Harry slipped his head from the halter and walked out into the middle of his paddock. He’d been perfect. Under Lawrence he gave exceptional and light canter work unmarred by fear. Sometimes horses just know what you need.
I turned and started for my truck. I had a lot of emotional stuff going on internally. I didn’t want to leave, but it was the logical and expected thing for me to do.
I heard footsteps coming up beside me and I slowed way down. Lawrence stopped right when I did.
“I just…really want to tell you…thank you for what you did today,” he said slowly.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
He looked at me and I could still sense all the emotion in him. He was deep in a way that was heartbreaking and wonderful. I couldn’t comprehend all he’d lived and seen, but I could feel how he was, just by being near him. I could almost feel him in my arms, shuddering and tormented. I wanted to hold him again, but my limbs were locked into their ordinary pattern, and I was powerless to make such a bold and vast leap.
All my rough, turbulent feelings were building up and I had to start moving. I hated myself more with every step I took. I hated how ordinary I was, and how impossible I’d made it for myself to be happy.
“Erica.”
I looked back. He was looking right at me, and his face had a different look than the dull, agonized one he’d had before. Everything around me froze, and it felt like something was about to happen, even though I had no reason to be feeling that.
I saw, briefly, on his face, unmistakable terror. “Um. See you next time,” he said quickly.
The expectant air faded. We both walked away. I glanced back once, and I saw him cuff the back of his own head. Thinking would only lead to hoping, and nothing good would come from hoping. But I still thought.
Lawrence
Vegas skimmed over the turf, deceptively smooth, unstoppable. Our polo field was a sloping, uneven hay field. This groomed, watered ground made it almost too easy.
The LPC was deserted. That was why I’d hauled in when I did. Wilson didn’t need any more grief, and I didn’t need an audience. My edge was sharp and fully there. That much I knew. It was probably the only certainty in my life anymore.
For seven and a half minutes we went full-out, pounding the field and our own bodies at top speed, running down the stationary ball with no one in our way. It wasn’t quite the same without the churning mass of ponies and riders, the constant shift in power, the occasional bruising, shocking impact. But even in this reduced format, it was thrilling. I still felt the blows the ball took from my mallet deep in my arm, and the indescribable release I could only get from that action
When our private chukker was over I halted Vegas, stepped off and began the time consuming cool-down. I walked Vegas all over the grounds, looking in on various horses. When he was cool and dry I let him into an unused paddock to eat and relax while I went to find Wilson.
After a quick walk through the barn, I saw the feed room door was slightly open. I opened it a bit more and entered the room. Wilson stood at the sprawling dry erase board with a marker in his hand, tweaking the diet of some horse or another. “Wilson. Hey.”
Wilson jerked in surprise. The marker left a weaving line across the board. “Cavanaugh. You about gave me a heart attack.” He turned around, abandoning the board. “What do you want?”
“I just came to see how things are. You know.”
Wilson looked at me like he didn’t. “Things are…pretty much like al
ways, Cavanaugh.”
I should have known this would be like pulling teeth. “I mean, how are things with you personally?”
Now he looked really intimidated. “Like I said. Like always.” He went back to his dry erase board, moving edgily.
I sighed long and hard. “What I want to know, Wilson, is have you made any headway with Barbara?” If I didn’t come right out with it, he was never going to volunteer anything.
Wilson kept his back to me. “You can keep your pony, Cavanaugh. You need something to ride. I probably would’ve had trouble selling him anyway, with that lameness.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said quietly.
Wilson was very still. “I think I did.”
“So you’re just giving up?” I asked incredulously.
“There isn’t anything for me to give up, Cavanaugh. Barbara’s not mine. Never has been. She’s with another man.”
“How long have you been in love with her, Wilson?” I challenged.
Wilson was silent for a long time. “A while,” he said finally. “But that doesn’t count for anything.”
“It might if you told her.” My skin was heating up.
Wilson turned and moved past me. I followed him out into the aisle. “I can’t believe you’re just letting her go.”
“Leave it, Cavanaugh,” Wilson said. He sounded like he was bleeding internally.
I couldn’t stop. I kept after him. “Tell her how you feel,” I nearly shouted at his back.
Wilson stopped and turned back to face me. I saw what was on his face. The passive, resigned anguish. “Just tell her,” I said, my voice low and rough. “Why can’t you just fucking tell her how you feel?”
Then I took myself away from Wilson very quickly, because I knew this was not about him.
On my way to collect Vegas, I nearly collided with Paul Miller. His sense of timing was cruel. “So, Cavanaugh,” he said, a smug, sadistic look on his face. “How’s your mare?”
I stood there, inches away from that worthless, rotten human being, rigid as steel, quivering with enough bottled emotion to send Paul Miller’s teeth right through his cheek. And I wanted to. God, I fucking wanted to.
“You know what?” I said to him. “You’re not worth it. Congratulations.”
I left Miller standing there. I caught my horse, loaded him and took off for home.
With Vegas back in the geldings’ paddock, I walked up the front steps. All my anger was wearing off, and I was strangely weary in its absence.
Amber walked out of the bathroom as I came through the door. “I saw your old l’amour today,” I said to her. “God, what an asshole. I still can’t believe you had sex with him.”
“I still can’t believe you’re still reminding me,” Amber said snappishly. “Do you want to talk about the people you shouldn’t have slept with?”
“Not particularly. Not right now.”
“Then leave mine alone.”
I inventoried all the food in the house. It didn’t take me long. I was pretty low on protein and critically low on sugar. I surveyed my limited options.
Amber came up beside me. “The pie’s gone. Just FYI.”
I gaped at her. “All of it?”
“Yup.”
Terrific. Amber without pie was a disturbing concept I wasn’t ready to deal with. “Here’s what you need to do,” I said hurriedly. “Go two houses up the road. There’s a lovely woman named Judy who lives in a little yellow farmhouse. Tell her how much you’ve been enjoying her baking, and hit her up for some more pie.”
Amber looked completely stunned. “I can’t…there’s no way. She won’t give me pie. Are you joking?”
“No, I’m dead serious. Go. Now. Get pie.” I flicked my hand in the direction of the door, like that was going to make all the difference.
Amber glared. She didn’t move an inch. “You’re an idiot. You think she’s going to give me pie? She won‘t. She’ll give it to you. Everybody gives it up to you.”
I stared at her, rapidly losing the ability to breathe normally. “Amber, for God’s sake, it’s just pie! Don’t be ridiculous. She’s retired, she lives by herself and she likes to be neighborly. Just go over to her house, introduce yourself, talk a little. For once in your life, just try being nice!”
I walked away, before things could escalate between us. I should go work Harry. Horses didn’t talk back. Although, come to think of it, Harry did. Maybe I shouldn’t work Harry today.
My cell started vibrating where I’d left it, and I doubled back to check the caller ID. Erica. I snatched the phone up like it was the antidote to a slow, agonizing death. “Hey,” I said as my heart kicked into high gear.
“Oh, hi,” she said. “I’m just calling because wanted to see if you’ll be home tomorrow. I’d really like to work Harry again soon. He’s been doing so well lately.”
“Sure. Absolutely,” I said quickly.
“Great. I stopped by earlier, and you weren’t around, so I figured I’d check in before I came by again.”
Thanks for not telling me, Amber. I sent a quick glare in her direction. “Sorry about that. I hauled Vegas over to the LPC to practice on the polo field.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I did say hello to Harry.”
“Was he nice to you?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah, he was.”
“Good.” I smiled. “See you tomorrow, Erica.”
“See you, Lawrence,” she said, and then there was no connection between us, only dead air. The heightened rhythm of my heart filled the silence.
I shut the empty phone and set it back on the countertop. I was aware of Amber staring at me.
“Sure, you can be civil to her,” Amber growled.
Erica
“Heels down,” I called out into the dusty ring. “Those are your shock absorbers, and your security. You’ll never fall off when your heels are down and you’re sitting upright.”
“I know that,” Maggie snapped. But she put a little more weight in her heels.
“Good, Maggie,” I said loudly. “That looks nice.”
Maggie was trotting around on a circle that halved the arena. She posted in balance and her equitation was solid. “Ask him for a bit more energy,” I said.
Maggie pressed Twinkle’s sides with her calves. The pony stepped under himself a bit more, his poll softly flexed. He really was a lovely mover. Now that he was unhindered by his rider, Twinkle’s quality showed.
“Well done. Now slow your posting and tighten your stomach; ask him for the walk. Don’t use your hand unless he doesn’t listen to your seat.”
Twinkle made a smooth transition to the slower gait. “Good job. Let the reins out and take a walk break.”
I watched them walk along the rail, internally debating my next move. I didn’t want Maggie to get bored, but I wanted her to learn to value the basics. Is it too soon to let her canter? Maggie had come a long way in just a few lessons, and she had the advantage of a fully-trained pony. I shouldn’t rush this, but I can’t hold her back, either. She’s not the same kid I started with.
I focused my eyes on Maggie again. Her reins were on Twinkle’s neck, and she was directing the pony through a funny little serpentine by pushing his neck back and forth. The gelding had a resigned yet bemused look on his face. “What are you doing, Maggie?” I yelled.
Maggie looked up, clearly startled. “Practicing weight aids!” She threw back snottily.
I snorted, but fortunately she was too far away to hear. “Pick up your reins and trot,” I called.
Maggie snatched up the reins, shortening them to the appropriate length, and Twinkle sprang into a reasonably energetic trot. “Make a 20 meter circle at this end of the arena. Sitting trot.”
They trotted down the long side. “Look ahead and plan your circle,” I advised. “Your inside leg and inside rein create the bend, but don’t forget your outside aids. Support with the outside rein.”
I watched Maggie carefully. Focused on he
r circle, she sat easily and lightly in the saddle. Twinkle knew all about bending, and they executed an even, round figure. “Well done,” I said enthusiastically. “Your seat has really improved, Maggie.”
“Thanks, Erica,” Maggie said softly.
“You can walk for a minute while I get the longeline,” I told her.
Maggie gaped at me. “But you just said my seat was good! Why do I still need the leash?”
I smiled. “First of all, your seat could still use improvement, and even the best riders in the world take longe lessons routinely to improve their seats. And the reason I’m putting you on the longe is because I want to see how you ride the canter.”
I made the short walk to the barn, where I ducked into the tack room and grabbed the longeing gear. When I returned to the arena I found Maggie and Twinkle waiting by the gate. “Longeing suddenly seems cooler, doesn’t it?” I asked her Maggie with slightly perverse satisfaction. She gave me an ugly look, but seemed reluctant to talk back since the word “canter” had left my lips.
I knotted Twinkle’s reins and hooked him up to the longeline, then sent him out on a circle. “You can keep your stirrups this time,” I told Maggie. She looked relieved.
“Twinkle, t-rot,” I said clearly. The pony moved up into a springy trot. Maggie looked a little tense, coming up off the saddle more than she needed to. Twinkle raised his head and flattened a bit in response.
“Easy,” I said to the gelding. “Relax, Maggie. Quiet your posting. We’ll stick to a trot until you‘re ready.”
After a few circles, Maggie started to look calmer. “Sit the trot,” I said. She was still a little tight, and she bounced a bit on Twinkle’s back. “Just follow your pony‘s trot. Focus on your breathing. I won’t ask him to canter until you tell me to.”
Maggie nodded. Her little face was set with concentration. Her chest started rising and falling at a normal interval.
“Okay,” she said after a few more minutes. “I’m ready.”
Training Harry Page 33