Leaping Hearts

by Ward, J. R.

  After the press finally dispersed, she turned around to look for Devlin.

  “He went to get you registered,” Chester said without her asking.

  She smiled and tried to concentrate on the horse but couldn’t. Now, when her focus should have been on the Qualifier and her horse and her riding, concern about their relationship was paramount in her mind. She was terrified about the distance between them, worried about how he felt to be back at the event. Wondering how long it would take them to get back to normal.

  She felt trapped. Part of her just wanted to get through the event and then resolve the issues they were facing. But there was also a sense, and a tremendous fear, that there might not be anything left of their relationship if she waited even that short a time. Devlin had been acting strangely around her since he’d confronted her two nights before. His words when he addressed her were deliberate ones, carefully chosen to approximate normal conversation, but lifeless. Even worse, he hadn’t touched her or held her at night or taken her hand when they walked down to the barn. The few kisses he’d given her were brief and perfunctory, just pecks on the cheek.

  A.J. felt as though he’d left her even though he was still around. The loneliness was unbearable and the one time she’d come close to bringing it all up, he’d quickly left the room, retreated into his study and not come out again until very late in the night. It was as if he didn’t want to get her upset right before the event, and to her that meant something was very wrong. Maybe the permanent kind of wrong.

  The very idea made her sick to her stomach.

  As she went through the motions of getting Sabbath ready, A.J. was feeling a cold fear she’d never known before.

  In the growing crowd, Devlin walked around the grounds in a daze, going through the motions of checking A.J. and Sabbath in and getting an overview of the course. It was difficult for him to believe he was back, and he wasn’t the only one who was surprised. As he passed the other competitors, he could feel their shocked eyes and double takes. He ignored them. When reporters approached him, anxious for a sound bite on how it felt to be back, he pushed them away.

  With painful irony, he realized that no one had any idea how he was really feeling. They had it all wrong. He wasn’t in mourning and he wasn’t thinking about the past.

  A.J. was an ache in his heart that wouldn’t go away. He loved her more than anything in his life, but inside he felt frozen. An awful premonition told him she was on a collision course with disaster and he didn’t know how to stop her. He found himself in the grips of a terrible paralysis.

  As a result, he’d pulled away and knew his retreat had hurt and confused her. He saw the sadness in her eyes and it pained him but he didn’t know what else to do. He was at the breaking point of frustration and the last thing she needed was another argument. The distance between them was the only way he knew how to keep from venting his emotions and putting even more burdens on her as she went into the event.

  He paused by the polo field, A.J.’s registration papers gripped tightly in his hand. A few competitors were already surveying the course from the outside with their trainers. When one group walked past him, he could hear their voices drop to a hush. Disregarding them, he tried to concentrate instead on the way the morning’s pale sunlight felt as it beat down on his back.

  Warming though it was, it did nothing to relieve the cold vise around his emotions.

  Devlin was grateful for the numbness. He had a feeling it was the only way he’d be able to get through the day. He was torn between wanting to be her trainer and being her lover, between having a job to do and wanting to pack her and the stallion back up and drive them all home.

  Forcing himself to focus on the jump course, he stared ahead. At first, he could see nothing but rails and grass. Slowly, though, he could recognize jumps and then find the pathways the competitors would be traveling. The course was laid out in a predictably grueling way, with towering fences set close together. Its compact design meant tight corners and no chance of recovery if a competitor hit a stride wrong or was shaken off-balance.

  He thought of A.J. and Sabbath and went back to the trailer.

  “Stallion all right?” he asked Chester, who was running a brush over the horse’s coat.

  “Seems fine, calmer than the last time we took ’im out in public.”

  A.J. came around the corner. Anxious for a read on Devlin’s emotions, she scanned his face. “Do I have a good number?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “The course ready for walking?”

  “In ten minutes. We should head over now.”

  “Okay.”

  As he turned to go, she saw that his face was closed, his mouth set. Together, they walked to the ring, attracting attention they ignored as best they could.

  “Sabbath seems fairly calm,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Shoes are solid. That loose one is tight as a tick.”

  There was no response.

  “Devlin, are you okay?” When he didn’t respond, she put her hand on his arm. “Please, talk to me.”

  He halted reluctantly. “I don’t think you want me to talk right now.”

  “I’ve been in agony for the last two days. It’s like you’ve left me. What’s going on?”

  “A.J., now is not the time to go into this.” He looked around, meeting curious stares. “And this is certainly not the place.”

  He resumed walking.

  Catching up with his long stride, she said, “This has got to be hard for you, being back after what happened….”

  Devlin wheeled around and gripped her arms fiercely.

  “Nothing matters but you, okay? I don’t care about what happened to me last year. All that I’m thinking about is you.”

  “If I’m the only thing on your mind, why do I feel like you’re so far away?”

  “A.J., just drop it. Let’s go and look at the course.”

  “No!” she hissed, struggling to keep her voice down. “Dammit, will you just tell me what’s going on?”

  Devlin’s expression grew harsh. “What do you want from me? Do you really need to hear how exhausted and strained you look? I sure as hell don’t want to bring up all the pills you’ve been taking and the sleep you haven’t been getting again. We’ve argued about all of it before and we’re still standing here, at the Qualifier. None of it has changed your mind, and courtesy of your discipline, I’m going half mad, imagining that the worst is going to happen when you get in that ring.”

  He swore as he saw the looks they were attracting. Dropping his hands to his sides, he looked uncharacteristically defeated.

  “A.J., you don’t need this crap right now. Your focus has to be on the course and the stallion and yourself.”

  “But I don’t want you to be upset.”

  “Then do something for me. Forget about anything but the event. Put all distractions out of your mind. You’re going to need to focus if you’re going to get through this in one piece and at least I’ll have some peace of mind if I think you’re concentrating on the job.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Hell, what I should be telling you right now is that I admire your strength of character and your hard work and your determination. That’s what your damn trainer should be doing. But I think I’d rather have you safe than successful.”

  “Devlin, I—”

  Over the loudspeaker came an announcement that the course was open for walking.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait. I—”

  “You want to be a champion, don’t you?” He looked past her, at the competitors and trainers who were heading toward the jumps. “If you do, we’ve got to get moving.”

  But A.J. held them in place, standing still. She was searching for words of reconciliation and reassurance, desperate for some magical combination of syllables that would put his fears to rest, and reunite them.

  There were none, she realized. As long as she was going into that ring. She flexed her arm,
unconsciously.

  “Will you be there after this is over?” she asked. “After the round?”

  He sounded exhausted. “Of course.”

  “I mean, will you really be there,” she said, meeting his eyes pointedly. “Will you be with me, not just around me?”

  In the long silence that followed, her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  “Yes, I will.”

  Only then did she take a step forward. Devlin followed.

  As soon as they got inside the ring, her feet slowed of their own volition. She’d seen the kind of courses that were set up at the Qualifier, just never from the perspective of an entrant.

  “The view is a lot more attractive from above,” she said, nodding at the stands.

  Devlin waited for her to get her bearings, remembering when he’d first looked at a Qualifier course from the ground. It took a little getting used to and she wasn’t the only one who was wearing a shell-shocked expression. Only two out of four entrants actually competed. In spite of a hefty registration fee, every year there was a high dropout rate after the jumps were opened for inspection.

  A.J. tried to breathe. She’d seen fences of the same height and turns as tight, just not so many packed into one course. There were fourteen jumps in all, including one with water, and they were menacing-looking, done in the club’s black and green colors.

  The course started tough with three oxers in a row, a brutal combination that would shake up the field from the get-go. A hard turn to the left would be needed to make the next jump, a long, low wall, which was followed by a towering upright and two more oxers. A wrenching turn to the right would have the field coming into a combination of uprights, a vast wall of bushes and then the water jump. Directly thereafter, the competitors would have to double back in order to confront a mound obstacle that the horse and rider would have to leap up onto, then launch off of, to clear a rail fence at its far edge. The last two jumps were separated by a hairpin turn.

  The course lived up to the event’s reputation.

  Maybe even pushed the damn envelope, A.J. thought, staring ahead.

  She and Devlin walked the course twice, discussing the strides and the angles, where the dangerous spots were. The water jump wasn’t her biggest concern, oddly enough. By dumb luck, it was configured in a way they’d been practicing recently. Sabbath would be familiar with the straight-on approach and the tight turn that immediately followed it. What she was worried about was how the stallion would handle the demands of the course’s turns in the midst of the spectators.

  By the time she and Devlin returned to the trailer, the crowd had grown to its full size and A.J. saw the first of the socialites. The sight of haute couture made her think about her stepmother and she wondered where her family was. Scanning the grounds, she located the Sutherland trailer easily. She could see people milling around its exterior, unloading horses she knew well. Out of a field of some thirty registered competitors, three, including Philippe Marceau, were from the Sutherland Stables, a good showing by anyone’s estimation. Squinting against the direct sunlight, she could see Marceau’s roan mare being groomed by one of the staff.

  Shifting her gaze to Sabbath, she was thinking their time had finally come. Chester was winding wraps around the stallion’s legs and she assessed the horse’s mood. He seemed upbeat and not particularly aggressive. She hoped it would last.

  Going over to the trailer’s cab, A.J. grabbed her bag and her show clothes and went to the back, changing in the unused stall as she’d done before. When she emerged, Devlin was leaning against the back door.

  “You all set?” he asked tightly, watching as her hand went to her throat and then fell back down to her side.

  “I am.”

  “How’re the nerves?”

  “Calmer now that I’m in my show clothes.”

  “Anything you need?”

  She asked him a few questions about course strategy and then they reflected on the field of competitors and Sabbath’s good behavior thus far. As he spoke with her, Devlin thought once more that she would always be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and likely the only one he would ever truly love. As they stood in the sunshine, beneath a crystal blue sky that once again reminded him of the color of her eyes, he wished things were different between them. That the distance wasn’t there.

  When they heard over the loudspeaker that the practice ring was open for competitors, A.J. gathered up her hat and crop. “Let’s see if his mood holds.”

  “Wait,” Devlin said. “I have something for you, for luck.”

  He buried a hand into the pocket of his coat and took out a small velvet bag. “Close your eyes.”

  When she did, he emptied the satchel and then reached behind her neck.

  “You shouldn’t have to open them to know what it is,” he said, next to her ear.

  When her fingertips went exploring, they found home.

  Her eyes flew open and she looked down at her mother’s diamond.

  “How did you—”

  “I have ways.”

  “But this was to pay off my debt.”

  “I thought you’d want it today. We can argue about the finances later.”

  A.J. stared down at the stone, seeing light sparkle in the familiar facets. “This was my mother’s.”

  “I knew it must have been significant. You don’t wear jewelry, not even a watch, and this you never took off. I can’t imagine why you sold it to pay the debt.”

  “It was the only thing I had that was really mine.”

  “Well, it’s yours again now. And I understand how important it is for you to cover your own expenses. We’ll work something out.”

  “Thank you,” A.J. said, tucking the stone inside her shirt. The words didn’t go far enough. She hoped the love shining in her eyes went the rest of the way.

  “You’re welcome.” He hesitated and then stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. In a voice that was rough with emotion, he said, “Take it easy over those fences, will you?”

  A.J. grabbed on to his palm. “I promise.”

  Chester interrupted. “What number are we in the field?”

  “Sixteen out of seventeen,” Devlin responded, reluctantly looking away. “Course will be chewed up but at least we’ll be clear on where the bomb zones are.”

  “Saddle him up?”

  He nodded to Chester.

  Just then, Garrett and Regina approached through the crowd. A.J. noted that her father looked at home around the horses. He was dressed in his club pullover and a pair of dark wool slacks and had a pipe gripped between his teeth. Fragrant smoke billowed behind him in cloudy puffs. Her stepmother, on the other hand, was wearing a frown and a tangerine Ungaro ensemble. Her silk shoes, dyed to match, were already dirty. She looked like someone who’d gotten lost and didn’t like where the misdirection had taken her.

  A.J. went forward to greet them, forcing a smile for their benefit.

  “Good morning, all,” Garrett said, looking only at A.J.

  She went into his arms and kissed his cheek. “Hi, Papa.”

  “Are you ready for this?” he whispered in her ear.

  “I think so.”

  “Is he?” He nodded over at Sabbath.

  “The stallion’s in great physical shape and his heart belongs to me. We’re going to do the best we can.”

  “I’ll love you no matter what.”

  “I know.”

  Behind him, Regina said, “Darling, we really should get to our seats.” She looked ready to drag her husband off but then she caught sight of something that interested her. “Oh, look! There’s Winnie and Curt Thorndyke—she’s chair of the Borealis Christmas Ball for the second year in a row. Winnie!”

  She tore off into the crowd as fast as her high heels could cover the ground. Her target, assuming an expression of abject terror, bolted into a tack room.

  Garrett shook his head. “She wishes you the very best, as well.”

  “Thanks.”

/>   “Arlington, I know you have to start warming up. I just wanted to make sure you knew I’d be rooting for you in the stands. I hope you win this, if it’s what you want.”

  He embraced her again and she was struck by how much he loved her. As her father went over and shook Devlin’s hand, she felt grateful. It was a sensation that continued as Sabbath was presented to her, tacked and ready to go. She felt lucky to have made it as far as they had. After all, they were at the Qualifier. She was going into the ring on the stallion.

  As for the outcome? That was up to the fates. But she was going to do her level best to be lucky by trying to ride better than she ever had.

  While Chester held the reins, Devlin gave her a leg up. Their eyes met and held.

  As she settled into the saddle, the groom lectured the stallion.

  “Now, listen here, ya big troublemaker. I’ll strike ya a deal. Be nice, mind your manners an’ there’ll be a bucket a’ sweet feed waiting for ya. Misbehave an’ I’m feedin’ ya nothing but dry grass for the rest a’ the month.”

  Sabbath blinked and offered a snicker, as if he’d consented to the marching orders.

  The first rider out on the course was disqualified after his horse refused the wall. The inauspicious start proved providential. By the time eight competitors had gone into the ring, two more had been disqualified for refusals, one had taken a fall and three had twelve-faulted.

  It was the kind of competitive carnage that was expected.

  In the warm-up ring, Sabbath was agreeable, jumping with sound mastery and becoming only a little rambunctious with the other horses. He seemed to accept the work A.J. was asking of him and this was a huge relief because she wanted to spare her injury as long as she could. She’d taken some Motrin just before she’d mounted, and her arm was feeling fairly strong, but the more energy she could save before their turn over the course, the better.

  While practicing, she noticed Philippe Marceau cantering around on the roan mare. He was going tenth, she’d learned. Typically, he was paying more attention to the other competitors than to his own warm-up and he sent several pitying glances at A.J., none of which hid his calculation. Concentrating on Sabbath, she ignored the man and didn’t even watch his round or check his results after he finished.