Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  He beamed at her praise, “You do a great job too, Jane. Not many people take temperatures often enough. Say, would you by any chance be interested in going over there with me? I mean, it’s not exciting or anything, but if you’re interested in colic … ” Sensing Ben’s awkwardness, Jane decided to throw him a lifeline. “Sure, I’d love to. I’d like to check out our neighbors’ stables.”

  “Great! Afterwards, if you’re hungry, we could get a bite somewhere — have you been to Azzurro’s in Peapack yet?”

  “No, but I hear it’s wonderful. Let me just leave Abby and Rachel a note.”

  Jane liked that she didn’t feel as if she needed to shower and change for Ben. It was just a casual outing, something on the spur of the moment — he probably needed help holding the hunter. And she was actually starving. Italian sounded marvelous.

  A few hours later, they were seated at a table for two in the back corner under a window that looked out over a courtyard. The cotton tablecloth was immaculately white offset by the royal blue linens. Ben was appropriately talkative about himself and seemed genuinely interested in Jane, too. She rarely had occasion at the farm to discuss her academic career, though Mark and his parents knew, of course. Still, she’d rarely mentioned that part of her life to Mark, and here was Ben drawing it out of her. He admired her achievement in getting tenure at a major research institution. She found herself growing expansive with him. “I wouldn’t cash in for just any job — Nora offered something special. You know how spectacular the farm is, and the house is pretty unbelievable, too. And she pays me more money than God. I’m earning twice what I made as an assistant professor, doing something I love. It’s the way of life, you know? I guess what they say about following your bliss is true. But I’m rambling,” she laughed.

  “Following your bliss is important, so long as a person isn’t your bliss,” Ben agreed. “I mean, don’t you think making other people your happiness is dangerous?” Ben asked.

  Jane had the uncomfortable feeling that he was alluding to his former wife. “Yes, I think when we make other people so important, it can backfire. But there are lots of examples where it works out. I mean, look at Nora and Robert Hannon.”

  “Have you ever loved somebody that way?” he asked.

  “Have you?” she coughed evasively, then instantly regretted it. Of course, he had.

  And the instant she thought it, he said it, “Yep. Sally, my wife.”

  Jane didn’t want to let on that she listened to town gossip, so she asked, “What happened — if you don’t mind talking about it?”

  “It’s a very basic story: I loved her, and she loved me, until one day she didn’t anymore. She met somebody and ran off with him.”

  “I’m sorry, Ben.”

  “No, it’s all right. It hurt like hell for a long time, but I got over it. I hope she’s happy, but honestly,” he said smiling, “I doubt it. But, she made her choice, and I wish her well. So, what about you? Ever love somebody over the top that way?”

  “Maybe once or twice, I thought so.” It was actually more like half a dozen times, but who was counting — Jane didn’t want to sound like a used up rag of a girl. “I like to think that I learned from my experiences. I don’t expect another person to make me happy, and I don’t make them responsible for that job.”

  “What does make you happy, Jane?”

  “What I’m doing. I am truly happy working and spending time with the horses and dogs on the farm. I love the people and kids who come for lessons. And, of course, I love my friends, too.”

  “Don’t you want more out of life?”

  “What more is there?”

  “I dunno. Husband? Kids?”

  Jane felt slightly uncomfortable. The conversation was taking a decidedly personal turn. “In theory, sure. It would be nice. But, if I never fall in love or get married and have kids, what I have is pretty wonderful.”

  “What about your biological clock? Don’t most women feel biologically driven to have kids?”

  “Oh my God, check please, he’s not going to let up,” she exclaimed inwardly. “I think it depends on the woman,” she said, hoping she didn’t appear to be unnaturally cold. “I got a lot of maternal fulfillment from my students, and I get a lot of fulfillment caring for the animals and my friends. I think having a family would be great, but I’m not pining for it. It’s okay if it doesn’t happen. What about you? Are you champing at the bit to be a daddy?”

  Ben chuckled warmly, “Hell yah. I know — I’m a girl,” he said as he smiled with some embarrassment. “But not so much that I’d rush into anything with just anyone. I’m actually considering adopting.”

  “That’s great, Ben!”

  “Well, I haven’t committed to the idea yet, but it’s definitely on the table. I mean, I don’t think my own DNA is so spectacular that it needs to be re-entered into the gene pool,” he laughed modestly.

  It was getting late, and they both had to get up very early, but Jane enjoyed her dinner with Ben. He was warm and honest, self-effacing, and … really nice. She didn’t tingle in his presence, but she thought he was interesting to know. When he dropped her back at her place, she was punchily sleepy. The eggplant parmesan and the chocolate soufflé she’d had for dessert worked on her like a narcotic. Ben walked her to her door and thanked her for coming out with him. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he looked at her a moment, shyly smiling. Then he put a hand gently on her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Jane. I’ll see you soon,” he said, and turned to leave.

  As Jane got ready for bed, she thought it was too bad that she felt no zing with Ben, as he was actually quite perfect for her. She decided she wouldn’t write him off, however, and was asleep within minutes.

  Chapter Eleven

  The nine fingers of Jameson he’d had the night before didn’t help Mark jump up and greet the morning. He stumbled into the bathroom and threw cold water on his face and the back of his head, and then went back into the bedroom and squinted at the sunny day. He didn’t usually overdo it on the drinking.

  He saw Jane and another girl, whom he presumed to be a lesson, cantering up the field to the top of the hill with all three dogs in tow, where they turned at the old stone wall. He knew that trail had a fork that went on forever from Bedminster through North Branch and beyond.

  The fact that Ben was interested in Jane immediately drove her stock up in Mark’s estimation. Whereas he had shuddered at the recent idea that Jane might be more interested in him than he was in her, this morning he felt that if anyone was going to be with her, he wanted it to be him. And yesterday, he’d felt his whole paradigm about women shifting. For the first time in his life, he wondered if it might be possible for him to really love a woman and stick with her. He wondered what it would be like to be that guy who didn’t disappoint a woman, who didn’t want to get away.

  He needed to get to know Jane better to see if his answer lay with her. As he thought of her physically, he decided he needed a nice long shower with lots of slippery sudsing, and a couple of aspirin, too.

  Despite twenty minutes under hot water, Mark was still hung over when he descended the stairs. Phillips took one knowing look and said quietly, “Good morning, Mark. You look like you could use a very hearty breakfast,” and suggested scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Mark appreciated Phillips’ experience. He always knew what to do.

  “Have I told you lately that I love you, Phillips?”

  “Only with your eyes.”

  “Don’t make me laugh — it hurts.”

  Mark flopped in the overstuffed chair beside the fireplace in the library and wondered why and when he had decided to drink so much. He checked Bloomberg, and felt his eyes pulse painfully. No numbers today. His iPhone vibrated on the desk. It was Veronica … again. No, he definitely could not deal with Veronica today.
Food good, tree pretty — these were the most complex terms he could manage at the moment.

  Phillips brought him his breakfast in the library, gently placing the tray on the side table. Mark winced at the small clattering sound of the dishes, Phillips’ care notwithstanding. With a commiserating glance at Mark, he left without a word.

  After Mark ate and had two cups of coffee, he began to feel more human and determined that a brisk morning walk would restore him completely. Outside, he whistled for the dogs, but then remembered they’d followed Jane out on the trails. She had a way with the dogs. Before she came, they were big and friendly, but oafish and independent. Jane actually had civilized them into respectful creatures. Mark would not have thought Frank capable of learning a command, but Jane had taught him all the basics: come, sit, stay, down, and high five. He had to admit, they were more entertaining to be around.

  And he wondered whether she intended to apply her craft with canines to him. Would she have him sitting and staying quietly by her feet, begging in that obscenely cute way that large dogs have, sitting erect on their hindquarters, paws ridiculously dangling in front of them, miserably hopeful and expectant for their liver treat? Would that be Mark in a month, a week? This morning he thought her well worth it, but then, he was so hung over, he was part Basset Hound.

  He saw Mac on the tractor out in the distance, spreading manure in the fallow field and decided he’d do some barn chores to help out. He wanted to do something nice for Jane, and he hoped the workout would sweat the hangover from him. Mac or Jane had already turned the horses out and mucked stalls, so he decided to toss down the evening hay, put flakes in the stalls and then empty, clean, and refill all the water buckets. Then he swept the barn, and cleaned out the tack room. He finished raking the outer courtyard of the barn and then surveyed his work with satisfaction. He decided to incorporate barn chores into more of his days, as often as he could.

  Putting the barn right and being out in the fresh air helped his head clear. Physical work made him feel clean and whole. He enjoyed his career, too. He liked succeeding, earning, doing, competing. But, his New York life was fast-paced, immediate. Even relationships turned on a dime. He wondered whether he wasn’t rather tired of his freedom and superficiality of his pleasure. He thought of Phillips, a relatively poor man, who carried himself like a king. He wondered how much Mary and his kids had to do with that. He thought of Jane. She had a purity about her, to be sure. He smiled as he reflected on her embarrassment at his innuendo at the Tavern, but would have given herself to him in her kitchen, if he’d asked it of her — he was sure. What a curious combination of passion and primness, she was. What a charming set of contradictions. And he was suddenly glad that he hadn’t pressed any further.

  Mark determined that he would go slow with Jane and would be completely honest with her. “The readiness is all,” as Hamlet would say. He wanted to see her again, that’s all he knew. He wanted to see if they could start something that might last.

  The day was shaping up gorgeously — sunny and crisp, teetering between chilly and warm. He puttered around the barn and kept an eye out for Jane. He decided he’d ask her to go with him for a ride.

  He rehearsed his invitation, saying, “Hey, Jane. I thought I’d go for a ride this afternoon and was wondering which horse I should take. And, oh, by the way, would you mind coming with me? I’m afraid … ” Hell no! Afraid? Ugh. “I thought it would be more prudent … ” Damn. Now he sounded like an English nob, “not to go out alone in case anything happened, so would you come out with me … ” Yah, the sensible, responsible angle. “You shouldn’t ride or swim alone because you could drown or your horse could get snake bite … ” Oh, shit, no snake bite. Where are we, in the Amazon?

  In the end, Mark determined to keep it simple: “Jane, I’m going out for a ride. Would you mind coming with me?” and congratulated himself on his plan.

  When she got back, Mark helped her untack the horses. While she groomed the young Morgan bay, he put the gray thoroughbred away. Nora and Jane knew all the horses’ names, but Mark could only go by descriptions: the big chestnut warm-blood, the Morgan bay, the Hanoverian stallion, the Irish draught. He didn’t see horses as being personal or having a range of feelings, and therefore didn’t associate them with names. He realized that he often thought about women in the same way: the redhead, the blonde, the tall brunette with the long legs. Their names tended to meld into one another’s. Except for Jane’s. Perhaps because she’d only had a name when his mother first mentioned her. And now each time he saw her, he wanted to say her name, to whisper her name to her.

  As they brushed down the horses, he cheerfully called out to her, “Jane, it’s a beautiful day for riding the trails, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I’ve just had a great trail ride with Lorie.”

  You mean the short girl with the light brown hair, Mark thought, but only said, “Oh, Lorie.” He paused at the potential derailment of discussing “Lorie” and immediately struck back to his path. “I was thinking of going for a ride myself today … ”

  But before he could finish his sentence, Jane interrupted, “Really? Your mother said you never ride.”

  “I used to ride a lot, and I do know how, but I don’t go out that often, it’s true. Still, it’s a great day for a ride.” Let’s get back on track.

  “Capital. Lorie and I had a great ride.”

  “Lorie, yes,” he quickly breezed past her, “I was hoping you might like to go out riding with me. It’s been a while, and uh, it’s safer and more sensible to go with someone rather than alone. Especially since it’s been a while since I’ve ridden … snakes and whatnot,” he trailed off, repeating himself.

  “Very true. I’d be happy to go. I don’t have any lessons scheduled for the afternoon. I have to do a few things at the house, so how does two o’clock sound?”

  “Great! Who should I catch? My mother told me the buckskin is great in the field.”

  “That’d be Jack,” Jane said, “yah, he’s fabulous and big — you’ll look good on him. He’s got size and style, but he’s a go-pony, whoa-pony at heart. If you want, we can start out in the ring to see how legged up you are.”

  “I’m legged up just fine,” Mark said dryly. “When I bring him in, do you want me to catch a fresh horse for you?”

  “I’ve got Duchess in already — I’ve been treating her for mud thrush, but she’s fine now. She could use a bit of exercise.”

  “All right then, I’ll see you at two.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jane was fairly flummoxed by Mark’s asking her to ride out with him. The torrid kiss she had been trying not to think about was suddenly fresh in her mind. She could still feel his mouth on hers, if she let herself. But she had forbidden herself to think of being attracted to a man who was her boss, not to mention as slippery as mercury. She reflected on the date that was not a date, that ended like a date. And then his leaving, which she interpreted as his avoiding her. If she could just trust herself to have sex with him and take it for what it was, that would solve everything.

  She checked her watch. She quickly threw Topsy and Marquessa back into the field, and seeing that Mark had already organized the barn, put Jack and Duchess’s tack next to their stalls. That left her with enough time to eat and get ready for the afternoon ride.

  She burst through the kitchen door breathlessly, where late-rising Rachel and Abby were making their “morning” coffee, and told them of her afternoon plans. “Rachel, if you’ve got any of your feelings, tell me now … ”

  “Wear a jacket; it’s gonna get chilly,” she smiled.

  “Conferring with the spirits of the Farmers’ Almanac, are we?” Seeing Rachel’s eyes darken, she said, “You know something. C’mon, sweetie, don’t hold out on me!”

  Rachel spoke kindly, “Jane, it’s not him that’s the problem. It’s you, honey. I mean, it’s a
lways us that’s the problem. You’re so attracted to him, you’re craving him.”

  “Isn’t that the ironic truth!” Abby asserted, pouring herself a cup coffee. “When we’re super attracted, watch out! And the ones we’re indifferent about are always hot on our trail.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jane said, “it’s a hopeless situation, anyway.”

  “Not true, sweetie, there’s always hope,” Rachel rejoined.

  “Oh? Do tell.” Abby said on behalf of Jane.

  “I don’t mean to be cryptic.” Rachel exhaled, “You know, being psychic sucks sometimes. Especially the way I do it. The Magic Eight ball says ‘try again later.’ It’s not like I have a roadmap, guys. I can’t say anything specific about him — I haven’t even met him yet. But I know you, Jane. When you’re infatuated, honey, you get a little desperate. If you can, try to let him go a little bit.”

  Abby, having been through relationship woes with Jane before, said, “Look, whatever happens, we’re here for you,” and handed Jane a cup of coffee.

  Jane sighed, and Rachel added, “Forget the jacket. Bring a blanket — ground’s cold this time of year,” she laughed and shoved an orange wedge in her mouth.

  • • •

  At quarter to two, Jane left the house for the barn (without a blanket) but she did wear a jacket, as the afternoon had turned chilly.

  Mark was at the barn when Jane got there and was brushing Jack before tacking him up. Jane went to Duchess’s stall and pulled her into the aisle to tack her up. Making conversation, Jane asked Mark when he’d started riding.

  “When I was fourteen,” he said. “That was quite a while before my parents bought this place. In those days, my mother kept a couple of horses, which she boarded not too far from here, actually. I guess she hoped I would share her love of horses. So she encouraged me to come with her — she bought that place too, eventually. It’s part of our property.”

  “And you fell in love with horses?”