Fear of Falling

by Catherine Lanigan

  Though this was an amateur race, the jockeys wore brightly colored silks that matched the colors on the horses’ bibs.

  She spotted Rafe, Rowan and their jockey heading toward the gate. Jenny was red-haired with freckles all over her face and neck. Tiny and short, she wore royal-blue-and-gold silks, racing goggles and shiny black boots. She didn’t look a day over ten. Olivia felt foolish for being jealous of the young girl. As Olivia snapped shot after shot of the three of them, a prickle of apprehension ran down her back.

  Rafe was acting as his own assistant starter.

  After what Howard had just explained, she couldn’t help but worry about Rafe’s safety. Even if Rowan didn’t freak out, what if another horse tried to jump its stall?

  Olivia lowered her camera and put her palm over her thrumming heart. She was afraid for Rafe. Perspiration broke across her forehead and upper lip. She wished she could be down there on the track with him; help him. But what could she do? This was his game. He’d chosen it.

  Reason returned to her as Irwin Levine, the announcer, introduced each horse and its owner. The crowd cheered. She heard Rafe’s name and she was filled with excitement.

  Her heart thrummed even faster as she remembered his kiss. Her cheeks flushed with warmth that spiraled to her core. Her legs wobbled, but she held on to the window ledge.

  Something had happened today between her and Rafe. It was more than a kiss for luck. Something had opened in her heart and ushered in a new season. Deep emotions caused her to fill with pride and anticipation as she watched Rafe through her camera’s eye. What was happening to her?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AN EARSPLITTING HORN blast began the race. Eight Thoroughbreds sprang into action with a burst of applause and cheering from the crowd. Next to Olivia, Howard peered through his telescope at the race. Olivia’s fingers couldn’t move fast enough. For the first time ever, she was glad she had her slow-motion video grabbing every nanosecond of the action.

  “Coming around the first turn, it’s Mr. Blue in the lead position, Black Knight and Rowan on the outside. Mr. Blue is looking like this is a walk in the park for him,” the announcer nearly shouted into the microphone, his own enthusiasm dialed up high. “In fourth and fifth it’s Swept Away and Old Man River. Oh, wow. Rowan is slipping to fourth as Swept Away pours it on.”

  Olivia was shocked that Rowan wasn’t running better. From the way Rafe had talked up his horse’s talent, she’d been prepared for Rowan to walk away with the trophy. She found herself pulling for Rowan, though she knew she shouldn’t be. She was there as a journalist. It wasn’t her place to have a favorite. Besides, wasn’t that the spark that fed gamblers? Picking a favorite, betting everything you had on something you hoped would make you a winner?

  As she clicked another set of photos, she realized she’d angled in on Rowan. From what she could see, he was barely panting. Was Rowan taking this race seriously? Didn’t he know what this win would mean to Rafe? Did she, really?

  Olivia snapped a close-up of all the jockeys’ faces as they drew up to the second turn. Jenny’s expression changed the moment they rounded the turn. Instantly, her composure altered to fierce determination and she shouted to Rowan, cracking her crop just above his flank.

  Rowan leaped ahead of Old Man River and in less than fifteen seconds was a half length ahead of Swept Away. Pouring on the steam from the outside lane, Jenny moved Rowan to the middle lane and squeezed between Mr. Blue and Black Knight.

  “Coming around the third bend, it’s Mr. Blue in the lead. Rowan in second. Rowan has left Black Knight in the show position,” Irwin called.

  Olivia snapped dozens of photos, silently cheering on Rowan.

  The rest of the pack seemed to drop away as if they’d lost steam, but of course, they hadn’t. Both Mr. Blue and Rowan had soared out in front and put so much distance between them and the pack that it almost looked like two different races. This was the difference between amateurs and professionals. Losers and winners.

  Feeling her blood ignite with exhilaration, Olivia had to force her body to remain as calm as possible. She needed steady hands to take the shots, and the most important one was coming up.

  “Clearing the third bend, it’s Mr. Blue in the lead by a nose. Rowan still pouring it on. Black Knight is dropping to fourth, and Swept Away is now coming in third,” the announcer bellowed into his microphone. As he continued a second-by-second narrative of the race, Olivia followed Rowan and Mr. Blue as they neared the finish line.

  “Go, Rowan,” Olivia finally said aloud, though no one could hear her. Everyone in the tower was screaming and yelling for their favorite horse. “Rowan! You can do it, boy! I believe in you. Come—on! Row—an!”

  Just as Olivia shouted the horse’s name, the two front-runners crossed the finish line, and she snapped the final photo. “Oh, no.” She exhaled all the energy that had been building inside her. Mr. Blue had just won. Rafe would be crushed. She envisioned the disappointment in his eyes. He’d been so happy...

  “And it’s Rowan by a half a nose!” Irwin exclaimed loudly. “Yes, Rowan is our winner! Mr. Blue places and Swept Away takes show! Congratulations to all our horses and jockeys. Gentlemen and lady, an excellent race.”

  The people in the grandstand exploded in cheers and applause. Olivia heard the thundering of feet as they banged their approval—or disapproval—on the metal grandstand flooring.

  Olivia stared blankly at Irwin Levine and then at Howard.

  Howard smiled. “A hometown winner. Isn’t that great?”

  Olivia blinked. She must have fallen asleep and woken in another dimension. It wasn’t possible. She knew she’d seen Rowan lose, not win. She’d captured the moment on her camera.

  “My camera—” Olivia quickly pulled up the six most recent shots. This would set the record straight.

  Howard took the microphone and gave a long congratulatory speech to the hospital foundation and all the volunteers. He read off a long litany of hospital administrators who had sponsored various aspects of the event.

  Olivia was engrossed by her photos. They all showed that Rowan had won. Yet she could have sworn she’d seen Mr. Blue cross the line first. She should have been happy, even ecstatic, but something nagged at her. Her eyes had never failed her before. She’d looked down the nose at a grasshopper via her macro lens, but she’d seen the grasshopper from ten, maybe fifteen yards away before zooming in. Her vision was better than twenty/twenty.

  “Howard, are you sure? About Rowan?”

  “Absolutely. Why? Do you see something different on your camera?” He looked down at the Sony in her hand.

  “I thought I saw Mr. Blue cross the finish line first, but my pictures confirm your call. You should check it out.”

  Howard took the camera from her and scrolled through the final shots. “Yes, they confirm my judgment. Still...” He rubbed his chin and handed the camera back. “This is the disadvantage of where you were standing.”

  “But I was right next to you.”

  He shook his head. “Not quite the same. My telescope was right on the line. Exact. The tripod is even a bit to the right of the finish line. I never would have guessed this race would be so close. Frankly, I haven’t seen one this close since 1989, when Park Avenue and Probe finished in a dead heat at the Hambletonian Stakes. Next year, when we set things up, I want a camera smack-dab on that finish line.” Howard pointed to his telescope. “If I’d known there were horses here that were this good, I would have insisted on a professional race photographer.”

  Olivia felt the slight and frowned. “Howard, I believe I was well-suited for the job.”

  He threw his head back. “Oh, no! It’s not you I’m talking about. We should have been more precise in our camera placement. Perhaps we should have mounted one from the ceiling here so it would point directly on that vertical
line. In the end, though, the most important thing is this.” He held up his stopwatch. “The minute hand was stopped at two minutes and the second hand registered only a few seconds more.

  “I don’t understand,” Olivia said.

  “Rowan finished in just over two minutes. It’s always been said that the Kentucky Derby is the fastest two minutes in sports. There have only been two horses in history to ever finish under two minutes. That’s Secretariat in 1973 and Monarchos in 2001. Rowan finished in two minutes and one second even. That, my friend, has only been accomplished twice in history, if I recall correctly. Yessiree. That Barzonni has got himself a special horse.”

  “And Mr. Blue?”

  “A half second different. Which is also uncanny. Both those horses could bring in millions.”

  “Yes,” she replied quietly, thinking of Rafe and how his life might change because of this race. This phenomenal win.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting down to the winner’s circle to take more photographs?”

  Her eyes widened as she realized she’d promised not just the foundation, but Rafe, that she would take plenty of photos for posterity. “You’re right.” She stuck out her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Howard. Thank you for the quick education. Next year I’ll be more prepared. I promise.”

  “I’ll count on it, Olivia,” he replied.

  Olivia packed up her two cameras then gathered her satchel and the rest of her gear. When she got home, she’d play back the footage. If she needed to, she could use Twixtor to slow the motion to ten thousand frames per second and enhance the shots. Despite all of Howard’s explanations, Olivia wasn’t completely convinced of Rowan’s win. This was her first time in the judges’ stand. She didn’t know squat about finish lines and photo finishes. She was clearly no expert, but her gut told her something was wrong. Always a stickler for the truth, Olivia promised herself that once she saw the video and was assured that Rowan had won, she’d put the matter to rest.

  If he wasn’t the winner? Then what, Olivia?

  What would she do with the information? Tell the judges? Have the trophy recanted? How would she tell Rafe? How could she come down on him with news like that? And what would he do? It would cause him embarrassment and disappointment. What would it mean to Rowan’s chances of another race? Maybe it didn’t matter. Rowan had run an exceedingly fast race. Howard had even said he was one of the fastest horses he’d ever seen. Rowan was a natural for racing whether he was the winner at the silly Indian Lake track or not.

  Olivia’s head ached with tension, all of which she’d caused herself. If she was smart, she’d put the camera away and never look at it. Let it lie. Be done with it. Move on.

  Was she so bent on destroying Rafe’s joy? And why? Was she jealous that he didn’t have fears about gambling or racing? Was she so self-centered that she would hurt another person just to make herself feel righteous?

  Putting her fingers to her temple, she massaged the pain away. “You really are your own worst enemy, Olivia,” she grumbled to herself.

  She slung her satchel over her shoulder and turned to leave.

  Most of the spectators in the tower had left, but Sarah and Luke were waiting for her. They each held the hand of one of the children.

  “We thought we’d walk down with you,” Sarah said, taking Olivia’s arm as they neared the stairs. Then she leaned over and whispered, “What are the chances of you talking Rafe into letting Timmy sit on Rowan for a photograph? As of today, he’s decided he wants to be a jockey and own a horse.” Sarah laughed.

  “I don’t know the protocol for this kind of thing, but I should think that after the formal shots are taken, Rafe wouldn’t mind.”

  “You’re so sweet, Olivia. It would mean the world to Timmy.”

  As they descended the stairs, Olivia said, “It’s a hard life being a jockey.”

  “I’m not worried. Are you kidding? Timmy’s the spitting image of Luke. He’ll be over six feet and—”

  “Made of twisted steel?”

  Sarah grinned at Olivia. “I’ve always said you had the sharpest eyes in town.” She turned to Luke and Timmy. “C’mon. Let’s go see Rowan.”

  The winner’s circle was nothing more formal than the area next to the gate that led to the horse barn. Olivia saw Jenny sitting on Rowan, holding a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses tied with a bright blue-and-gold ribbon. The Barzonni family was posing next to Rowan, and Maddie and Mrs. Beabots stood nearby taking photos with their iPhones.

  Annie broke away from Sarah and rushed up to Liz, hugging her. Then she barraged Liz with questions about the new baby. Since Liz was in her fifth month, her “bump” was visible in the spring-green linen dress she wore.

  Rafe was talking to Gabe, both men smiling and slapping each other on the back. Gina called out Olivia’s name.

  Rafe froze and lowered his arm as he scanned the group. When his eyes came to rest on Olivia, his face burst into a luminous smile. He excused himself from his brother and made his way toward her.

  “Olivia! Can you believe it?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her. How was it possible for her to see so many colors in one person’s eyes? And each had a name. Happiness. Joy. Sincerity. Hope. Elation.

  “You saw it all, right?”

  “Yes, I did. Through my camera and—”

  He pulled her close for a hug and whispered, “I knew that kiss would bring me luck.”

  His breath brushed against her skin like a feather: tickling, soft and teasing. When his lips skimmed her neck, she thought it was a mistake. That he didn’t really want to kiss her in front of his family and all her friends. But then he lingered there, and the pressure of his lips against her skin sent chills to the top of her scalp and down her spine. If they’d been anyplace else she would have grasped his face in her hands and brought his mouth to hers once more.

  He broke away and turned to his family. “Okay, everybody. Olivia’s here, so let’s take these photographs with Rowan quickly. He needs his rubdown.”

  Olivia fumbled with her Sony. Her fingers were numb; probably because there wasn’t a nerve ending in her body that hadn’t been incinerated by the penetrating look in Rafe’s eyes. Not to mention the heat from his lips. She swiped the back of her hand over her forehead, pretending she was shielding her eyes from the sun.

  She was getting her bearings. Rowan had run a race in two minutes. In less than twenty seconds, Rafe had turned her to dust with a simple kiss and a smile she would remember till the day she died. No man had ever looked at Olivia as if she were the only woman in the world.

  What was happening with Rafe? Was it too soon to ask him what exactly his kiss had meant? One part of her understood that their kiss could have been just what he’d asked for—luck—but the other part of her heart ached for him in a way she’d never felt before. Maybe if she told him she had these feelings, he would clear up his intentions. Or would her confession shove him right back to his paddock, never to be seen again? She was conflicted and confused. Fearful, apprehensive and exhilarated. Perhaps the best plan was to understand herself better before she tried to figure out Rafe.

  All she knew right now was that as Rafe left her side to hustle up to Nate and Maddie and position them next to Rowan, she felt alone. Again.

  This was the second, maybe third time she’d felt like this. Why did that keep happening? There was no explanation for the void she felt when she wasn’t with him.

  You’ve lost your mind, Olivia. That’s what’s going on.

  “Olivia? Hellooo.” Rafe was waving at her.

  “Sorry? Did you ask me something? I was setting the light.”

  “Is this okay? Nate and I on this side?”

  “We can do one like that, but I want one with you on Rowan’s right and both Maddie and Nate on the left. We’ll do the same with Gabe and Liz,
then Sarah and Luke. By the way...” She walked forward up to Rafe. “I forgot to ask. Timmy wants to sit on Rowan’s back. He thinks he wants to be a jockey now.”

  Rafe placed his hand on Olivia’s cheek. “Absolutely. You’ll make it a memento he’ll cherish all his life.”

  “What a lovely thing to say.”

  “That’s what you do, Olivia. You capture memories. You lock them up in your camera and hold them hostage.” His eyes burned into hers then focused in on her lips.

  No mistaking what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing.

  “Listen,” he said. “My mom is throwing an impromptu barbecue at the house tonight to celebrate. Please come.”

  “And bring my camera?” Or my apron? She had to ask. After all, the Barzonnis didn’t ask Olivia or her mother to be guests. They were staff. Olivia held her breath, and her lungs burned as she waited for him to deliver the devastating blow.

  “No camera. Just you. I want you to share in my victory.”

  “You want me to be there?”

  “Yes. All my friends will be there, too. You could ride out with Austin and Katia. Do you want me to ask them for you?”

  “No, thanks. I can drive myself. It’s not a problem. Thanks for inviting me.”

  “Thank you for accepting,” he replied, his dark-lashed lids lowering as he peered at her mouth again. “Six o’clock.”

  “Sure.”

  Olivia swallowed hard, smiled and had to consciously make herself walk away from his compelling eyes and tender voice. She had to get back to work. Her friends were counting on her.

  So was Rafe.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  RAFE CLEANED OUT Rowan’s stall and helped Curt with bathing, rinsing and brushing the exhausted horse before heading inside to get ready for the evening guests. By the time he had showered, shaved again and put on clean jeans and a blue-and-white cotton shirt, he was pacing. Rolling up his sleeves, he put on his watch and looked out his bedroom window for the fifth time in half an hour.