On a late Monday afternoon in March, I was finishing going over the bills and schedule for the next week. I leaned back in my chair, trying to refocus my eyes. Even though I’d won fourth place at Thermal, it was a $5,000 class, so my share of the winnings was only several hundred dollars. That didn’t even cover our costs of gas for trailering, stall fees, or entry fees. Having Helena and Payton also show at Thermal, and pay us for hauling Effy and Ness and for my training fees, were the only things that had kept us above water.
A car door slammed and a high-pitched chatter in the parking lot outside the barn reached me. I walked out through the quiet barn and peered around the corner to check on things. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Jason was at his small pickup truck holding a little girl’s hand. Her back was to me, but I knew right away it had to be his niece, Eve. She barely reached above his knees. Her pink T-shirt was tucked into tiny green jeans and she stomped toward the barn in magenta cowboy boots. Her head was wrapped with a bandana.
“What brings you two out here?” I said, walking toward them.
“I thought you’d be working on your day off,” Jason said, smiling.
I felt my face warm, so I turned my attention to the little girl.
“Hi, there. I’m Brynn.” I extended my hand toward hers. When she looked at me, I inhaled sharply. She had the largest eyes I’d seen, but it was her irises that grabbed my attention. In her pale face with no eyelashes or eyebrows, her irises seemed to take up most of her almond-shaped eyes. Her gaze, steady and certain, focused on mine and never wavered as she took me in, as if she’d known this world for much longer than her three years.
“Hello. I’m Eve.” She shook my hand fast, her fingers around mine in a strong grip. “You’re the lady with the horses. Uncle Jason said I’d like you. When I grow up I want to be just like Uncle Jason. I want to ride horses and be a show jumper and go to the Olympics.”
I had to laugh at how well she spoke, almost as if she was several years older. But I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to gain composure, putting a serious face on, and squatting down so that I was at her eye level. “Is that so? Well, I bet that if you set your mind to it you will get there.” Then I leaned in and whispered, “And you’re lucky. You have the best trainer ever.” I winked at her. Her stare was serious, but she nodded, then scanned the empty paddocks. Her forehead creased. “Where are all the horses? Are they at home now?”
I followed her gaze. “Kind of. They’re inside this big barn eating their supper. But we can go and see them, if you like.”
Eve jumped up and down, wrapped her hand around Jason’s, then reached for mine. “Yes, yes! Uncle Jason, can we go see them?”
“That’s why we’re here.” Jason smiled at me. “Because I knew Brynn would love to show you all of the horses and especially Jett, her show jumper. And if you’re really nice to her, she might even let you sit on him.”
I threw Jason a questioning look, but I didn’t hesitate long. “Well, it just so happens that Jett loves little kids, and you know what? I think he’s been waiting for you to come ride him.”
Eve squealed and gripped my hand more tightly.
As we walked to the barn, Jason nodded a thank-you.
When we got to Jett’s stall and slid the door open, Jason held Eve back while I haltered Jett, pulling his head up from the hay. We showed Eve how to hold a carrot in her hand, palm flat, carrot lying on top, and Jett leaned down, gently mouthing her palm before crunching the carrot. As soon as his nose touched her hand she squealed, jerking her hand back, jumping up and down. “His nose is fuzzyyy!” She let out another squeal. But Jett didn’t startle, just leaned his head down and let her pet him, his breath close to her nose, getting her scent. She touched him gingerly at first, but as she gained confidence, she moved her hand up in between his eyes.
“That’s the softest thing you’ll ever feel,” I said, guiding her hand up and around his ear, letting her pet it.
“Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! It’s as soft as my rabbit!”
“You have a rabbit?”
“Peter Rabbit. He keeps me company in the hospital when I feel sick.”
“Oh, what a good friend he is!” I replied, trying to sound positive. She’d just spent several months undergoing treatment, but she was in remission now, and Jason said that besides the eating disorder she developed in the hospital, she was doing well. They had to have an occupational therapist come reteach her how to eat, since for months she’d been fed via IV and tubes.
Once saddled and a proper helmet adjusted to her, we led Jett around the outdoor arena. I held him by a lead rope, while Jason wound his arm around Eve’s teeny frame to hold her in place atop my saddle. And Jett, as if he knew he was in charge of this tiny child, hung his head low, and walked slowly, like an old schoolmaster, his gait rocking Eve back and forth. She held the pommel with both hands, her knuckles white, her eyebrows pulled together in concentration.
“Should we stop?” I asked.
“No, no, no! I want to ride more!”
And so we led her around for half an hour before Jason finally convinced her to dismount. At the end, she said goodnight to Jett, and Jason carried her to his truck. She laid her head against his shoulder, her lids heavy, closing. Jason buckled her into her car seat.
“I’ll be one minute,” he said to her. He kissed her cheek, and rolled down a window for her before shutting the door. She smiled, but her eyes closed completely and she seemed to already have fallen asleep.
He pulled me farther away from the truck.
While we walked, Jason spoke, “My father was a racehorse trainer down at the Santa Anita racetrack. My first memory is of him leading me around on a wild two-year-old racehorse.” Jason stopped walking, his shoulders hunched. “The horse bucked me off, and I ate dirt and cried. My dad smacked me for being a wimp. My mother cried when I came home all bruised and beaten, but my dad told her to shut up. That’s my first memory of my dad. And a horse.” The same look I’d seen that night of coffee and tea at Patterson’s crossed his face. Pain. Anger.
I wanted to say something, but was too shocked that this kind man, this man who’d been teaching me yoga, helping me open my mind, teaching me to jump, had these horrible memories from his childhood.
“He was a louse, a crook. Beat his horses. Beat his wife.”
I placed my hand on his arm, squeezing it. “And his son?”
“And his son.” Jason faced the sun, his chest expanding, his eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laid that black memory on you.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said, laying my hand on his arm.
“Thank you for making Eve’s most treasured wish come true.”
Having seen Eve ride Jett, seeing their instant bond, seeing the joy on Eve’s face was awe-inspiring.
Jason reached over, cupped my cheek with his palm, then leaned down and kissed the top of my head.
When Jason got in his car he rolled down his window and lifted his palm up, facing forward. The setting sun was in my eyes, but on the horizon I saw a little boy, beaten by his father, and I wondered at the darkness in the world.
Del Mar was like its name described. Of the sea. I’d always loved coming to shows here. Everything about it was idyllic: the hills, the winding streets with homes jutting out yet seamlessly merging with the landscape. And the ocean—stretching into the distance, roaring with energy. It did that too in Northern California, but here I could stick more than my toe into the water without getting frostbite.
But I wasn’t here to enjoy the scenery. I was here to kick ass and to bring home a first place. I needed to prove that I wasn’t afraid, that I could push forward and win. And what better place than at Del Mar’s show grounds, one of the oldest and most prestigious equestrian competitions of the West Coast.
But the night of the Del Mar $100,000 Grand Prix, I wanted to crawl into a dark cave. Everything irritated me—including the overly loud Lady Gaga song played via the arena speakers. My muscles
were tightropes. My skin itched. My mind raced. I’d had to train Helena’s and Mai’s daughters in the low pony hunter divisions earlier, and the stress of watching some of the unprepared riders had played havoc with my nerves. I’d fit in a yoga session earlier that afternoon, but I’d moved through the poses mechanically. I wasn’t able to still my mind, my breath jagged and uneven, my asana practice stilted.
As Jason and I walked the course of the indoor arena, I fell into stride behind him, nodding my head as he talked, though the only thing running through my mind were thoughts of failure. I kept it all to myself. Jason would chastise me if he knew.
Jason stopped mid-stride, turned, and I almost ran into him. He crossed his arms, an expectant look on his face.
“Um, sorry. What did you say?” I stood embarrassed I’d missed another piece of important advice. Jason repeated himself, for the third time in less than ten minutes.
The stands on either side of the arena were full. VIP tables, dressed in dark cloth, lined the long side of the arena. Candles housed in glass lanterns fluttered pointlessly under the bright fluorescent lights at each table. International flags hung across the opposite side of the arena. I couldn’t help noticing Corinne with a group from Vivian’s barn. Envy flooded me, and I wished she was still with me.
“You’re set?” Jason laid a hand on my shoulder.
“I think so.” I nodded, showing more enthusiasm than I felt. In fact, I was petrified. My stomach was tight and my hands were cold, my heart clenching every time I thought of the round I’d have to ride. I’d never shown at this height, one-point-five meters and in an indoor arena. That was almost five feet, the top of the poles came up to my nose when I stood straight. The arena itself seemed as if it might burst with massive jumps, each more intricate and unique than the next. Purples, reds, blues, pinks. Flowers, columns, planks, boxes, a liverpool. The course itself was more difficult than any I’d ever ridden, with no lack of turns, rollbacks, and short lines.
“I don’t think Enrique wants anyone to go clear,” I muttered.
“He is one of the best,” Jason admitted.
The course designer from hell, I added in my mind. And even though I’d seen jumps in Grand Prix close up a hundred times, it was always while walking the course with Dad, in preparation for him riding. I never experienced their grandeur, their immense height, as much as I did now.
On top of all the decisions and strategy, I had to worry about Jett’s stride, slightly shorter than an average horse’s, which complicated our ride: I’d have to make him canter faster than normal, so that he could make the lines, yet carefully enough to get over the high jumps. The short space between jumps in the combinations would make it difficult to correct him before the next jumping element. So basically, if he refused a jump, we would have to start the whole triple combination over again. If he jumped in short, it could end in a disaster: Jett and I crashing.
“You’ll be fine. Jett’s really proving his potential, and just like I thought, has more scope than anyone gave him credit for,” Jason said, peering at me.
I bit at a cuticle.
“Trust me,” he said.
I nodded.
He held up his right hand, palm facing me.
I tilted my head in question.
“Have no fear,” Jason said, still holding his hand up.
“It’s the Abhaya Mudra—sign for have no fear,” Jason said and then shook his head. “I still need to teach you so much . . .” But he smiled at me.
We walked toward the side exit as Chris and Vivian entered the arena kitty-corner from us. I smiled, then waved, but he didn’t see me. I squinted against the bright lights reflecting off the sand. Spots floated in front of my eyes.
“Everything okay?” Jason asked, his eyes following mine toward Chris and Vivian.
“Fine, just fine.” I screwed up my eyes. Why was he walking the course with Vivian? Why was she laughing, and why did her hand graze his arm just then?
“Whatever it is, you’ve got to let it go and concentrate on the course,” Jason said, holding my elbow, turning me toward him. It took me a moment to look up at him.
“I’m fine,” I said, my eyes drawn to Chris and Vivian again, her long legs easily keeping up with his stride.
“Let’s warm up, Brynn,” Jason’s voice held an urgency which suddenly irritated me.
“I’ll be there in a sec,” I said, making a beeline toward Chris.
Vivian smiled, but noting the look on my face, lifted an eyebrow in question instead.
I grabbed Chris’s arm. “Let’s walk.”
Chris hesitated, but then moved closer. “What’s up?” He gave me a quick kiss, then brushed his long bangs off his forehead as he walked toward a set of jumps where Jason and I had been a few minutes before. Suddenly I had a deep desire to share Jason’s advice with Chris, wanting to prove to myself that we could train together in the future, to collaborate, to strategize as a team. Otherwise, where did our future lead?
“Listen.” I pointed to the scariest set of jumps in the ring. “That combination walks a short five strides to the oxer, followed by a bending line to the red and white skinny vertical. You’re going to get caught if you don’t get up enough speed before the in-and-out. That’s a long one-stride, and the only way De Salle will jump it is if you’re already coming in with a lot of pace.”
Chris looked at the line I was talking about, pondering. “I’d rather keep steady then add a stride later.”
“I know, I know. That’s what I originally thought too, but Jason thinks you’ll be caught at the in-and-out—”
Chris visibly tensed. “I think I’ll be fine. De Salle has plenty of scope to pull that off.” His lips drew into a tight line. “But thanks for the tip.” He continued to walk the course, but increased his stride. I had to jog to catch up. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d always thought himself a better rider. He’d always been the one to hand out the tips—or had he? I thought back to all the times we’d ridden together. Had he given me advice? Or had he kept things to himself? I slowed to a walk and let him go. Would we ever be able to work together if we were going after the same prize, or was Chris too competitive to collaborate? How had other rider couples done it?
I retraced my steps from jumps five to six, like Jason had told me to do. I noted the seventh jump was located in a spot where Jett would be going away from the in-gate. Not only that, but it was in the far corner of the arena. Having watched riders all week, I’d seen it was problematic. The horses didn’t want to go at a fast enough speed into the corner. I’d even figured out why: the judge’s booth was right there and a light flickered above the jump, casting looming shadows into the corner. But it was too late to do anything about it. The show was about to begin.
The loudspeaker above me buzzed to life. “Please clear the course. Our first rider is at the gate.” I hadn’t realized that I was the only one still walking the course. I walked one more line on my way out the side exit used by the jump crew, and said a little prayer.
Sitting atop Jett at the entrance of the indoor arena, I told myself I was ready for anything. I visualized each jump before heading in. When the time came, under the glare of the stadium lights, Jett and I rode in. The buzzer sounded and we cantered to the first jump, but the setup was all wrong, and we had a long distance, Jett having to stretch just to make it, but he did. We moved toward the next jump and for a moment I forgot where we were heading, scanning for the jump number, then remembering at the last second that we were supposed to do a turn and we lost some time. I tried letting go of my fear, the way Jason had said to, but I couldn’t keep from analyzing each jump, controlling Jett, scanning the crowd, thinking of Vivian, Chris, their times, my position over the jumps. The announcer’s loud voice annoyed me, the crowd seemed to be staring at their programs, or chatting to their friends. No one watched. The music crackled over the sound system. Details crowded my mind, and I seemed out of sync with Jett.
Jett rapped the last
fence, the sound reverberating in the indoor arena. I peered back under my arm. The rail teetered, and I waited for the loud thump as it hit the ground, but it stayed up. The crowd cheered, and the announcer declared a clear round.
Back on the ground, Jason prepped me for the jump-off, the deciding round of the competition. Only fifteen of thirty-five riders remained. “OK. So you scraped by, got in just under the time allowed. But you almost knocked four rails. You got lucky that all of them stayed up. Brynn. Listen to me. To win the jump-off, you’re going to have to clear your mind of everything.”
“I know.” I hung my head, rubbing my temples with my fingers. “I tried, Jason, but I just . . . I just couldn’t.” I turned away, too embarrassed not to have been able to follow his advice. He wiped his hands down the front of his jeans, passing me a water cup. I gulped the contents down in two swallows.
“Brynn. To get to Spruce Meadows you need to get a first or second place here. The competition’s tough. Roman’s been in the lead since the beginning of the season, and don’t forget, they have four times as many shows under their belt—this is only your second one. You can’t afford to lose.”
I glared at Jason. “Not like that doesn’t add just a bit of pressure.”
“But I know you can do it. I wouldn’t be here unless I believed in you. You just have to believe in Jett, believe in yourself.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
Just then, Chris rode by on De Salle. “Hey, stop putting moves on my woman!” he called, and although he said it in a joking manner, I heard an annoyance in his tone.
Jason stiffened next to me but didn’t remove his arm from my shoulder right away.
“Don’t worry about it. He’s just being Chris,” I said.
I felt the absence of Jason’s arm, my body seemed heavier without it there.
“Vivian has three horses here, too,” Jason said quietly.
“Three? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Love’s First Trip, Edge of Night, and,” he paused, searching my face, “and Seraphim.”
Learning to Fall Page 17