Dark Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 2)

by Michele Scott

  At the end of class, he makes an announcement. “I know that some of you will be riding with me, particularly those of you in the upper levels, and I recognize some of your faces here, so I want to share with you some very exciting news. Mrs. Fairmont and I are on the board of governors for the scholastic committee for the Young Equestrians Association, also known as YEA. We have been working hard for the past year to create a single competition event that will bring together the best young riders from around the country. The winners of the event will be awarded a spot at the coveted summer YEA equestrian program at Liberty Farms, where some of the world’s best coaches teach. We are talking four-star riders, people. I don’t have a complete list yet of coaches, but with this kind of teaching and coaching available, those of you who make it will have some serious opportunities. It could take your riding careers to new levels. This program is for students who have the goal of competing at the highest level out there.” He looks at me, as if he knows that my brain is swirling. I so badly want this that I can almost taste it! My goal is to one day go to the Olympics, and not just compete, but win the gold. I’ve wanted it ever since I was a little girl—ever since I can remember.

  “What we have come up with will be known as the Scholastic Championship Event. The chance to participate will be extended to students at the country’s top six equestrian academies—including Fairmont, which is the best, of course,” he says, giving us a friendly wink. “Any former member of YEA who has gone on to a college or university where the YEA program is supported by an equestrian program will be eligible as well.”

  Harrison’s hand shoots up. “Does that mean we’ll get to compete against college kids? I’d love to show them up.”

  Christian smiles. “Sorry, you won’t have that chance. The college students will compete in a separate division. All you kids have to worry about is this: only the top six high school juniors and seniors from each school will qualify to travel to the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington in April, so the competition will probably be stiff. The qualifications are based on how well you and your horse place at the local events as well as your scholastic achievements. . . .” He clears his throat. “In other words, your grades and behavior. The top six students who qualify will have their entry fees and travel expenses to Kentucky paid for. They will also be the chosen students for the summer program out at Liberty Farms.”

  I look over at Emily, but she doesn’t seem all that interested. My own pulse, on the other hand, is racing. This is a huge opportunity for me. I’d dreamed of qualifying for the Young Equestrian Championships back home, but I’d always known that attending them was out of reach. My mom never could have afforded all the travel expenses and entry fees that participants are required to pay. Now that the Fairmonts seemed willing to fund a team, pay all the expenses, and cover tuition for the Liberty Farms summer program, I had a shot. If I went, I’d also get to see the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington. I’d seen tons of pictures and watched the Rolex on TV countless times. The Rolex is the premier four-star competition in the United States, and it’s called the Rolex because the company behind Rolex watches is the main sponsor. My mom and I never miss it, but with a three-day event being narrowed into a succinct time slot on television, it’s impossible to see all the details. I have always wanted to go out and see the event, but I’ve never been lucky enough to do so. It has always, always been one of my dreams to go there—and have the opportunity to ride on the same grounds as my idols, like Phillip Dutton, Mary King, Karen O’Connor, David O’Connor, and Gina Miles. Honestly, going to Lexington is a dream I have never imagined might come true.

  I hear my heart pound in my ears and realize I’ve been holding my breath. I’m so excited I think I might hyperventilate.

  The bell rings to signal lunchtime and I grab my books and head for the cafeteria with Emily beside me. I just can’t wait to find Tristan and tell him my new goal for the semester. Now everything is going to be about getting to Liberty Farms.

  CHAPTER fifteen

  I walk into the dining hall and almost stop dead in my tracks when I see Joel seated across from Riley at our table. Looks to me as if the talk they had at the bonfire a week ago must have worked. I know Riley has been stressing about it because Joel didn’t stop hanging out with the DZ after the bonfire. But I know what I am witnessing, and Joel is definitely at our table, so everything must be good between them. I feel relieved for Riley.

  Emily nudges me and says, “I haven’t met the new guy yet. He’s kind of cute.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” I know—so lame, but really, what am I supposed to say? He’s gay and he’s Riley’s friend, or more specifically, he’s gay and he’s Riley’s ex? At a loss, I search the room for Tristan, and as I do, the shock of seeing Joel at our table seems small in comparison to what I see: Martina at the DZ table! What the hell is going on? Am I even on planet Earth at this moment? Martina sees me and gives me a glare. This is ridiculous! I turn away. I am going to have it out with her later back at our room. I’m over this big-time!

  “Looks like I’ve been traded for Martina,” Emily says. “What is that all about?”

  “No clue,” I reply. “Not a single clue.” I do have a little clue, actually—our stupid argument the other night.

  I have to think about gluing my feet to the ground to prevent myself from running away and down to the barns. I really want to go see Harmony. She’s the only one who can help me make any sense of this moment. She really is.

  I don’t see Tristan anywhere. He helps, too, and I could use his down-to-earth rhetoric right about now.

  “Let’s get something to eat.” I look at Emily. Maybe if I get some food in me I can start thinking rationally about this weird situation. Although who knows if that would help, since nothing about what I’m seeing at the moment makes sense.

  I pull a turkey sandwich, an apple, and a drink onto my tray, and make my way over to our table. “Hey, guys,” I say, trying to act cool. I sit down next to Riley, and Emily sits down next to Joel and introduces herself. It’s the first time I have seen this girl light up ever. Oh no. If she only knew. Great. Just great.

  “Have you seen Tristan?”

  “No,” Riley says.

  “I saw him over by his locker earlier. It looked like Lydia had him trapped,” Joel says.

  Weird just dug its heels in and basically jabbed me with spurs. “Really?”

  Neither Emily nor Riley says anything, but I notice they eye each other.

  Joel finally says, “What?”

  “Tristan and Lydia used to go out,” I say.

  “Oh. Sorry,” Joel replies.

  “No. Don’t be. It’s a free world. They can talk. I’m okay with it.”

  Riley pinches my knee. He probably can tell that between Martina sitting with the DZ, and me hearing that Lydia was chatting up my boyfriend, who remains nowhere to be seen, I’m feeling just slightly upset. The happy buzz I’d gotten from Christian’s announcement earlier is obliterated.

  “Did you hear?” Riley says. “Did you hear about the championships?” I know my friend well enough to realize that he is trying to change the subject for my benefit.

  “I did.” I force a smile as I look again over at the DZ table to see if Lydia has arrived yet—no dice.

  “If anyone is going to qualify, it’s you, Vivvie,” Riley says. His words sound kind of forced. I know he is nervous sitting across from Joel, and I appreciate him trying his hardest to make me feel better, but it isn’t quite working. I smile at him, though, knowing he is just wanting to calm my nerves.

  “I agree,” Emily says.

  “Thanks. You know what? I’m not so hungry. I forgot that I left something down at the barn this morning. It’s my notebook for my next class.” I get up and leave. Riley comes after me.

  “You suck at lying,” he says.

  “I need to find Tristan.”

  “S
top it, Vivvie. Don’t go acting like the jealous g.f. You can trust T. He’s into you. Believe me. You are all he talks about. Lydia means nothing to him. She’s a parasite, and she probably is just trying to drive him up the wall and, in turn, drive you insane. If you go and hunt him down and she’s talking to him, she’ll know she’s gotten to you. You have to trust in him, and you have to trust in what you two have together. You know the other night when Harrison was giving him the third degree about whether or not he was tapping it . . .”

  I frown.

  “Sorry. That’s just how Harrison put it.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I know he’s a jerk.”

  “Anyway,” Riley continues, “a lot of guys would have stood by and let all the other guys standing around think they were getting, you know . . .”

  “I know.”

  “But instead, Tristan kicked his ass for even implying it. I think that should say something, Vivvie.”

  “You’re right.” I take a deep breath. The thing is that Riley is right, and okay, maybe there is a piece of me that feels worried and jealous, but I know what’s bugging me is bigger than that. What I am feeling at the moment is protective of Tristan. Sure, he can protect himself from Lydia, but I have not been able to get out of my mind what Sebastian has relayed to me—that Tristan’s father beat him up while she stood in the background and watched it all. Granted, Sebastian only wants to give me a myriad of colors these days, so I have not had a real chance to “speak” with him and find out more. But something tells me that Lydia has some information that is putting her in a position to hurt Tristan. It’s just my gut telling me this, but I have to trust it.

  “Come back to the table. Eat lunch. He’ll be here,” Riley says.

  “Fine. By the way, what’s the story with Joel? I thought you’d kind of agreed to disagree and keep distance between you.” As much as I want to track down Tristan, I also really do not want Riley to think I am some needy girlfriend who has no concept of the word trust. On top of that, it isn’t like I can tell him what I think I might know, at least not yet. Besides, what would I say? Um . . . Sebastian told me that Tristan’s dad abuses him and that Lydia knows? Oh brother! So, I decide the best way to get my mind off it all is to turn the tables and ask Riley about the situation between him and Joel.

  He shrugs. “I don’t really know. All he said when he sat down at lunch was, ‘Can I eat with you?’ Then you showed up.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yeah,” he replies.

  We head back to the lunch table. Both Emily and Joel look up at me. I smile sheepishly. “Looks like I have my notebook after all.” I sit back down and pick at my lunch, thinking about whether or not Tristan is in some kind of serious trouble, and if so, is Lydia Gallagher in some way involved?

  CHAPTER sixteen

  All I can say is, Thank God for my horse. After the confusing afternoon, I was able to go and take a lesson from Kayla. We had a jump lesson because Kayla is now doing both dressage and jumping lessons with us. Christian is only doing the jump lessons. From the schedule I got, it looks like a good rotation throughout the week. Holden’s main focus is still only with dressage.

  Kayla has a softness about her when she teaches. I think she has a softness in general that reminds me of my mother. She is always very encouraging and that is why I hate the idea so much that something is going on between her and Christian.

  I try and tell myself that it really isn’t my business at all, and no big deal. I am seventeen years old, and even though I will be considered an adult in less than a year, worrying about what could be going on between Kayla and Christian is far beyond my scope and not what I want to think about. If they are having an affair, I am adult enough at this point in my life to understand that it is ethically wrong. But I’m mainly concerned about what might happen if they get discovered. I know these things don’t usually end well. I’ve watched TV, been in school with friends whose parents had affairs that caused divorces. If that happens, what will happen at Fairmont? Most of the other kids here come from the kind of money that can continue to help them build equestrian careers, regardless. They can afford the best horses. They can afford the best training. My mom can’t, and I wouldn’t expect her to. So I just hope that my worries are for nothing.

  Kayla walks over to me as I am cooling off Harmony. “Good riding today. You two have really grown together. Nice to be in sync, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Thank you.”

  She strokes Harmony’s neck. I notice that she isn’t wearing her wedding ring.

  My brain doesn’t think before I spit out, “Are you and Holden okay?”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Yes. Of course. Why?”

  “Um . . . I don’t know. I just, gosh, I don’t know. I haven’t seen the two of you together much lately.”

  “We’re fine, Vivienne. Don’t worry about us. We’re adults and we can take care of ourselves.”

  “Okay.” Given the tone of her voice, I don’t have to read between the lines to know that she is telling me in a nice way to mind my own business. I turn away from her and head back to the barn, feeling a little defeated.

  After untacking, putting Harmony away, and then cleaning my tack, I go back to visit her with a handful of horse treats. She eagerly eats them out of my palm. “You and me, we are going to the championships. At least, we’re going to try.”

  I get a reaction from her that doesn’t make sense to me. She shows me a familiar image: it’s of feed in her feeder. She’d showed me the same image last semester when she’d colicked before our first major event. There is no color involved. No gray, no pink. This vision is clear again. In a way I am relieved.

  “Oh no, you’re not colicking, that’s impossible.” I put my ear up to her gut on the right side and listen. She has good gut sounds, which means her digestive track is moving on that side. I walk around to her left side and do the same thing—good sounds on that side, too. As I listen, she puts off a sense of fear. I take a step back. “What is it?” I ask. “What are you afraid of?” I place my hands where her heart is located and experience a new emotion from her. It’s fear, yes, and I have sensed Harmony’s fear before—but this time it’s different. I can’t put my finger on why, exactly. She is not the one who’s afraid. My brain races. Is she scared for me? For another person? Another horse? And, the image of the feed—the feed that had made her sick. . . . None of it adds up.

  Now a fresh image flashes through my mind: Joel’s horse again. “Melody?” I say out loud.

  At the name, Harmony’s fear visibly intensifies as she lifts her head and her eyes widen. She snorts and weaves. I pat her neck and walk out of her stall and into her run. I look over at Melody standing in the corner. She seems okay as she looks over at me, but she doesn’t make a move to come any closer. “Hey, girl. Melody.” I kiss to her.

  She finally makes her way over to me. I have one more treat in my breeches pocket and I give it to her. Harmony walks out of her stall and comes up behind me.

  “Don’t be jealous; I’m just trying to find out what’s up with your new friend,” I say to Harmony.

  I reach my hand through the pipe corral and stroke Melody’s nose. I want to know if this horse is afraid of something. Harmony seems to think she is. But I can also feel myself holding back. In this weird way, I feel like I am crossing a line, or breaching some code of ethics by trying to get inside Melody’s head. She isn’t my horse. Not that I haven’t ever communicated with horses who aren’t my own. I did it plenty when I was out on vet calls with my mom and trying to determine what was wrong with a horse, and I did it with Sebastian. But it wasn’t as if I had directly tried to get into his head. The dialogue Sebastian had started with me was voluntary on his end. I never specifically asked him anything about Tristan and his father, until after he showed me that one vision.

  Talking to Melody is different. I feel almost
like I’m a psychiatrist and she’s an underage patient whose parent hasn’t exactly given me the permission to treat her.

  On the flip side, it isn’t like I can go up to Joel and say, “Hey, I read horses’ thoughts, minds, and feelings, and your horse seems to be afraid of something. I’m just going to find out what that might be and try to help her through it. Don’t worry; I got Harmony past some desperately traumatic stuff last semester. I can do this.”

  Um . . . yeah . . . something tells me that probably isn’t the approach I want to take.

  “Hi, Melody girl. New kid on the block. I know what that feels like. Kind of scary, huh?” I tap into my own demons and fears as I continue to stroke the mare’s face. I express to her through my words and feelings that sense of fear I want to investigate further, mixed with a sense of compassion and love to put her at ease.

  Immediately, she shows me an image. It’s a stadium, and just ahead is a jump of about three feet. Hard to say, honestly, how high it is, given that I am trying to make sense of the visual memory the horse is sharing with me. What is clear are the emotions Melody is communicating—all fear and anxiety. The other strange thing is that it’s as if Melody is traveling in slow motion toward the jump. It must be due to the fact that it is a memory, or that we haven’t had a direct line of communication prior to this.

  I realize Melody has a rider with her, a rider as small as a child, but it’s all a blur. Then, something happens. I don’t know what, but Melody and the rider are on the ground. They’re down. I see Melody get up and perceive her fear along with the sense that she can’t move faster than slow motion. I see Melody looking at the rider, who seems to be about ten years old. It’s a little girl. Melody’s feelings are traveling through me—sadness, fear, desperation. And, then there is a blur of others running to them both, and someone leads Melody away. I can’t see who it is. She doesn’t show me.

  I am dizzy and I nearly fall to my knees. I’ve never experienced this complexity of communication from a horse. Harmony senses this and takes a step closer to me, and the dark, difficult feelings I am getting from Melody are suddenly gone, replaced by a sweet confidence that I recognize is coming from my own horse. I gaze at Harmony in gratitude. It is our bond of love that I sense. I turn again to look at Melody, who blinks her eyes a few times as if she is dizzy, too.