Leaping Hearts

by Ward, J. R.

  Devlin ran to her while shouting for Chester’s help in corralling the stallion, who was galloping frantically around the ring.

  As Devlin’s face pierced her tunnel vision, A.J. noticed he was white as a sheet.

  “I’m gonna feel this one in the morning,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Can you sit up?”

  “You got a crane handy?”

  With his help, she managed to lift her upper body off the ground and she found, after blinking a few times, that the stars dancing in front of her eyes disappeared.

  “I don’t think he likes water,” she said, struggling to get to her feet. Leaning on Devlin, she took a few tentative steps, trying to inventory any other contusions. Luckily, it seemed like only her arm was hurt. When she felt a bit more steady, she shrugged Devlin away and walked on her own over to Sabbath. Chester had managed to catch him. The stallion’s eyes were wide with fear, his body twitching in spasms.

  “He lame?” she asked tightly.

  Chester shook his head. “Ya seem to be carryin’ that load.”

  “Give me a leg up.”

  Behind her, Devlin felt nauseated.

  “I think we should break for now,” he said, trying to remain calm.

  He didn’t like the wild panic in the horse or the pain carved in his woman’s face.

  In fact, there were so many things he didn’t like about what had just happened, it was hard to pick the worst of it all. The moment he’d seen A.J. was going to take a fall, his life had come to a halt as he confronted losing her. In the eternal second it’d taken for her to become airborne and then hit the ground, his heart had stopped beating and cracked in half with terror.

  And now she wanted to get back on the godforsaken horse.

  He watched as she took the reins from Chester.

  “A.J., don’t be ridiculous,” Devlin said sharply. “That stallion is a live wire and you may have a broken arm.”

  “Get me up on this damned animal,” she bit out at Chester, lifting her left leg impatiently.

  For a man who thought he knew all about suffering, Devlin found a new kind of hell as she settled into the saddle.

  “You can’t be serious!” His voice was surging with emotion.

  When A.J. headed back out to the jumps, he felt Chester’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Ya fall off, ya get back on. Ya know the way.”

  Devlin had done it countless times himself. Except that last time.

  “Well, it’s a damned stupid idea! What the hell is she thinking?”

  “You’d have done the right same.”

  “And look where the hell I ended up,” he said, limping over to the rail. He wanted to leave the ring but couldn’t.

  Up on Sabbath’s back, A.J. was blinded by pain. The stallion was skipping under her but it wasn’t playfully. The horse was nervous and that made him more unpredictable than usual. The fact that she had the use of only one arm made the situation especially dangerous.

  Every time a hoof hit the ground, she felt a white-hot sensation shoot from her elbow to her shoulder. Worse, she lacked the strength to hold her arm tightly against her body and the injured extremity was flopping around, making the pain unbearable. With resolve, she tucked her hand into the waistband of her pants to reduce the jarring and noticed in the process that her fingers were becoming numb. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could go without passing out, but she was determined that they go over one jump.

  As she struggled with her agony, A.J. told herself she wasn’t going to die from the pain. All she had to do was get over a jump and then she could baby herself. It wasn’t going to take long.

  The pep talk didn’t really help so she gritted her teeth, pulled Sabbath together as best she could and took him over two uprights, avoiding the water hazard altogether. By the time she was finished, the horse had calmed down but she’d broken out in a sweat from the suffering.

  She steered the stallion over to the two men and fell to the ground as she dismounted.

  Devlin helped her to her feet, his face a tight mask.

  “I’ll take care of the spook,” Chester said to no one in particular and left with the horse.

  “We need to take you to the doctor.” Devlin’s voice was flat.

  “I’m going to take a bath.”

  “Get in the truck.”

  A.J. ignored him, preoccupied with her aching arm as she left the ring. She’d carefully taken the hand out of her waistband and was trying to keep the arm from being jostled. Her stomach felt queasy and she was light-headed but she felt better than she had in the saddle. Her one goal was to get into some hot water and the idea of not moving was really attractive.

  Devlin followed close behind. “You need an X-ray.”

  As she walked by the truck without stopping, he swore a blue streak.

  “A.J.!” he barked, and, reluctantly, she turned around.

  She was shocked. He was shaking with rage.

  “It’s not broken,” she told him.

  “How the hell would you know?”

  Struggling not to have a meltdown, she said quietly, “If you’d just relax and let me get to the house, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Did hitting the ground knock the sense out of you? Be reasonable for once in your life and get in that damned truck.”

  “No.”

  “You need a doctor! You look like you’re ready to fall over.”

  “And this argument is really helping me.”

  “Then grow up and stop behaving like a child.”

  The words ricocheted around in her head, piercing the fog of pain. Blue eyes clashed with hazel.

  She said, “In case you don’t remember, I just fell off a horse in that ring. I need a break. What I don’t need is you playing mightier-than-thou with the orders, okay? And I’m not being childish.”

  “When you’re hurt, you go to the doctor. It’s really that simple for most people.”

  As the sounds of the argument drifted through the air, Chester came out of the stable. One look at A.J.’s pale green face and he grew alarmed. “Go easy on her, McCloud. She’s in shock.”

  “Stay out of this,” came the thorny reply.

  “McCloud!” Chester’s voice cracked like a whip. “Back off before ya say anything else you’ll regret.”

  Devlin wheeled on the man, full of fury. “What the hell’s your problem?”

  “Stand down!” Chester ordered, meeting him square in the eye. “Y’re just takin’ your worry out on her hide.”

  “I don’t need your half-baked psychology,” he growled.

  “An’ she doesn’t need this kind of air show.”

  “Then to hell with you both.”

  Stalking over to the truck, Devlin wrenched open the door, gunned the engine and peeled down the driveway, out of sight.

  A.J. felt her knees buckle and Chester was the only thing that kept her standing. Unnoticed, tears began streaming down her cheeks and she started to shake all over.

  “He didn’t mean any a’ that,” Chester said. “It’s just the fear talkin’.”

  She tried to nod but emotion was boiling up and overflowing, her shoulders quaking as sobs left her. As if he were handling an unbalanced load, Chester carefully led her to the door of the farmstead.

  “Ya go in now an’ take that bath. I’ll make sure Sabbath’s put up right an’ then we’ll see about that doctor.”

  Lacking the will to argue, A.J. did as she was told, walking up the stairs like an old woman. After she’d undressed in the bathroom, she looked at the arm in the mirror, seeing that it was swelling up already and had a big purple bruise forming at the elbow. Tentatively, she stretched it out to its full length and then back again, relieved that she had some range of motion. Focusing with difficulty, she went to the tub and cranked on the faucets, watching the water fill up while feeling as empty and lonely as she ever had.

  When she slipped into the water, she grimaced as she tried to position her arm in
a way that didn’t hurt. It was impossible. There was no comfort to be found, no precise combination of crook or bend that would ease her pain. She thought it was probably because so much of her suffering wasn’t physical.

  Looking around the bathroom, she remembered moments with Devlin that had been warm and intimate and the images went through her with a rusty knife’s imprecision, cutting deep and jaggedly. She leaned her head back against the porcelain, tears sliding down her cheeks, falling into the water surrounding her body.

  She needed his tenderness now and he was gone. She felt very cold inside, despite the bath’s warmth.

  When Chester came back to the house a half hour later, A.J. was waiting on the couch downstairs. Beside her was a piece of luggage.

  “I’m going to go to the doctor,” she said, looking down at her hands. The fingers on her injured arm were still numb and it felt funny to rub them against the ones that were working properly.

  “Ya want a ride to an’ from?” he asked out of hope, knowing full well what her answer would be.

  She shook her head. “I’m not coming back here. I’m going to take a few days off.”

  “Probably wise,” he said slowly. “Ya need some time to heal.”

  Wasn’t that the truth, she thought as she stood up.

  A.J. bent over to pick up her bag but he got there first.

  “Ya goin’ to your family’s?” Chester asked.

  “I think so.” All A.J. knew was that she had to get away. The destination didn’t seem important.

  Before she got into her car, she went to Sabbath’s stall. He was snoozing in the far corner but as soon as he caught her scent, he looked up and came ambling over.

  “You walked him out really well?” she asked Chester, who’d followed her inside. She was running her good hand down the stallion’s nose.

  “Real good.”

  “Any lameness?”

  “He’ll be stiff tomorrow but I’ll lunge him an’ he’ll be right as rain in a day.”

  She nodded, relieved Sabbath hadn’t hurt himself, glad he was under Chester’s watchful eye. With a soft kiss on the stallion’s forehead, she left the barn.

  “Ya want me to tell Devlin anythin’? He’s goin’ to feel awful about this.”

  She hesitated and finally said, “Tell him I’ll be in touch. I need some time to myself.”

  “All right.”

  Chester put her luggage in the trunk and stepped back from the flashy red car.

  “Bye,” she said.

  “Come back soon.”

  A.J. simply waved in response and drove away.

  Out on the main road, she found it hard to drive and shift with only one arm but she didn’t take the fastest route to the doctor’s. Instead, she went along winding roads she’d learned long ago, following twists and turns she knew well. A soft rain began to fall and its delicate touch soon turned the bark on the passing oaks and maples black, making the yellows and oranges of autumn stand out like splashes of paint.

  When she finally pulled into the parking lot of her doctor’s office, she was feeling more calm but no better. Even though she didn’t have an appointment, the doctor fit her in promptly. Dr. Ridley, who was by now in his sixties, had treated her family for years and always made time to squeeze in any of the Sutherlands. It was a courtesy he’d extended to her often, considering she’d been crashing into jumps since she was a teenager.

  The doctor was a small, birdlike man, with a sweet, high voice and the cheeriness of a chickadee. Flitting into the examining room, he didn’t bother to sit down but hovered while he examined her arm and had X-rays taken. After eyeing the films and doing some careful prodding with his hands, he pronounced that the limb was badly sprained and had a stress fracture that would heal well enough if she behaved herself. With a flurry of activity, he wrapped her up in an Ace bandage, which started at her forearm, went over her elbow and ended in the middle of her biceps.

  As she was shrugging back into her shirt, he wrote out a prescription and gave it to her with a sprightly smile.

  “Ice it as soon as you get home, take this for the pain and you should be good as new in a couple of weeks.”

  A.J. groaned. “Weeks?”

  “You heard me.”

  At her bleak expression, he said, “I’ll tell you what. You come back in a week or so and I’ll take another look at it. Maybe we can negotiate your sentence.” Dr. Ridley tried to give her a stern look but it was hard for him to pull it off because of his sunny nature. “Just remember, the more you sit still and let it heal, the faster you’ll be back in the saddle again.”

  He laughed as he sang the last few words.

  “Don’t look so down,” he told her. “It could have been much worse.”

  “I could have fallen on my head?”

  “I could have sung you something I knew more words to.”

  She smiled a little.

  “That’s better. You’re too old for lollipops but at least I can have you leave with some cheer on your face.”

  The modest improvement in her mood lasted as far as the parking lot. She didn’t want to go to the mansion but, in the gathering dusk, she didn’t have the energy to get creative with her options. Flipping on her headlights, she drove to her father’s in a listless daze. As she pulled around the circle drive and saw the house in all its glory, she thought the glowing light pouring out of so many leaded windows was a false prophet of serenity. Between the estrangement with her father, Regina’s rigid formality and Peter’s contentiousness, the place wasn’t a refuge for her no matter how bucolic it looked from the outside.

  She drove around back and pulled the convertible into its garage slip. Shouldering her bag on her good side, she entered the house through the rear entrance, which led into the industrial-sized kitchen. Dinner was in the process of being realized from its base ingredients and the cook, a European with no patience for interruptions, shot her a look of condemnation.

  A.J. ignored him and headed through to the dining room, where she paused, looking over the vast mahogany table. There were three place settings clustered at one end, with linen napkins folded stiffly and silverware metastasizing out from stacks of china that bore the Sutherland family crest. In front of each elegant mound, there were three glasses, one for water and two for wine, and all over the table, like a swarm, were little silver bowls holding salt, pepper and butter squares.

  It looked like a china store, A.J. thought, already missing the simplicity and ease of living at the farmhouse.

  Devlin’s was a place where people propped themselves against the kitchen counter to gobble down lunch. It was a house where a towel could be hung on a doorknob and a barn coat tossed over a chair back. She’d walked around in her socks and let her hair dry on her shoulders, had even pranced around naked just because she felt like it.

  That kind of freedom wasn’t to be had at the mansion. Not even close. Hell, she could face criminal indictment just for showing up at dinner wearing blue jeans.

  Heart aching, she checked her watch. Whatever faults Regina had, a clock could be set by her schedule and it was one of the few things about the woman A.J. appreciated. Dinner would be served in one hour, which meant Peter would still be at his club’s bar having a libation of some fruity variety and Regina would be in her room donning her evening finery. Six o’clock also meant her father would be alone in his study, a stout glass of scotch next to his elbow, reviewing papers.

  Moving quickly, she left the dining room and crossed the vast foyer space. With a quick trip through the library, she found herself at her father’s study, the hefty oak door partially closed.

  Garrett looked up as she walked in.

  Pleasure and concern mixed as he saw her face and then the sling.

  “What happened?” He came around the desk.

  “Hi, Daddy,” A.J. said into his shoulder as they embraced.

  Taking a deep breath, she smiled sadly. Her father smelled as he always did, a lovely combination of the obscu
re English cologne he imported and the pipe tobacco he loved so much. The scent brought her back to childhood, when safety and comfort were easily found in his arms.

  It was a shame, she thought, that the complications of an adult life couldn’t be as readily soothed as the stubbed toes and scraped knees of youth.

  “Now, will you tell me what happened?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “If it’s nothing, why is it in a sling?”

  “At least it’s not in a cast.”

  “True.”

  He led her over to the old chesterfield sofa.

  Her father’s study had always been one of her favorite rooms in the mansion. It was decorated in maroon and gold and was dark in a reassuring way. With its mahogany paneling and shelves filled with books on subjects like engineering and business management, it was a lush cave, suitable for thought and industry.

  It was also home to a portrait of A.J.’s mother, the only one Regina had been unable to persuade her new husband to remove. The painting, which showed a woman who looked just like A.J. staring out from a sea of burgundy satin, was resplendent. Lights from overhead flooded the work of art, making it glow with life.

  “Are you staying for dinner?” he asked.

  “And for a few days.”

  “Regina will be so pleased.”

  “No, she won’t.” A.J. shot him a knowing smile.

  “I am so pleased.”

  “That I believe.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “Why are you really here?” he asked.

  “I just need a few days to heal.”

  “From what injury?”

  “I can’t ride like this.”

  “The last time you took a day off was because you had a concussion from hitting some jump and landing on your head. It was only because we threatened to put you in a hospital bed that you agreed to stay in your room. Having your arm in a sling may prevent you from being up on that horse but it wouldn’t cause you to take time off.”