“I’m sorry,” Jordan whispered.
“Don’t be,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m not.”
Jordan searched his face as if he didn’t quite believe that, but then he dropped his gaze to the tiled floor and shrugged too. “I’ve seen all those commercials, you know, the ‘it gets better’ ones, and I guess I just wanted to hear that from someone real, to know if it’s true. That’s why I asked.”
Russ winced and dragged a hand down his stubbled jaw. “Look. I’m probably the last guy anyone should come to for a pep talk. Words—and people, for that matter—have never been my strong suit. I’m much better with animals. But I can tell you from experience that if you can’t get the love and acceptance you need at home, you can find it elsewhere… as long as you’re willing to go looking and withstand a few knocks along the way. I mean, look at Phyl. You’ve barely been here a couple of weeks, and she’s already turning mother hen on you. That should tell you something.”
The wariness was back in Jordan’s eyes. “You said Phyl was only being nice to me because of my parents’ money. She doesn’t really like me.”
Russ winced again. “I did?”
Jordan lifted an eyebrow and gave him a wry, watery smile. “Yeah, you did. And you know her a lot better than I do.”
With a grimace, Russ waved that away. “Well, obviously I was wrong, wasn’t I? She’s down there right now wringing her hands about you. And she tore me a new one before I came up here. She wouldn’t do that unless she cared.”
Jordan sighed and rested his chin on his knees. “You can tell her I’m okay.”
“I’m not gonna lie to her.”
He held Jordan’s stare as Jordan frowned at him in confusion.
“I don’t get you at all,” Jordan murmured after a long silence.
Russ groaned as he climbed to his feet and tried to rub some feeling back into his ass after sitting on a cold tile floor at the end of a long workday. “Listen,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’m sorry if I’ve been too hard on you since you been here. I didn’t know what you were dealing with, otherwise I might’ve laid off a bit.” Jordan’s expression had turned unreadable, which made Russ shift uncomfortably under his steady regard. “I’ll go tell Phyl you’re not going to pitch off the deep end tonight, but she’s right, you’re going to have to face what’s happened with your life eventually. The B STAR’s about healing, but only if you’re willing to put the work in. It’s not a place for running away… but we’re here if you want to do that work.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Jordan croaked.
Russ stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. He couldn’t watch Jordan fall apart without doing something stupid. Besides, he didn’t figure Jordan really wanted someone watching him right now anyway. At least not if that someone was Russ.
Straightening his shoulders, he took another deep breath and prepared to face Phyl again. Hopefully, he’d done enough to get him off her shit list.
Chapter Eleven
JORDAN SPENT the next few days in a fog. He and Russ had apparently formed some sort of truce. Russ stopped being quite so much of a dick, and Jordan stopped his campaign to get in Russ’s pants. The problem was, all that tension with Russ had been a good distraction, even if it did little for his fragile ego. He still seemed to make Russ uncomfortable, though, probably because Russ appeared to be about as good at dealing with his own emotions as anyone in Jordan’s family. Added to that, Phyllis had really taken to the mother hen role Russ had talked about—one she played with far more gushing tenderness than Jordan’s reserved mother would have ever shown. So Jordan felt like a ping pong ball, bouncing between the unyielding blank granite wall he was used to and a mountain of marshmallow.
Russ was right, of course. Jordan couldn’t avoid dealing with things forever, but was it so wrong to want just a little more time? If Phyllis asked him how he was doing again, he might just have a meltdown, right there, out in the open, and that was next door to an unpardonable offense in the Thorndike family.
Kinda like being gay, apparently.
The only time he felt any peace at all was at night, after supper, when everyone else was either gone or in bed, and he could sit with Marina at the back of the barn. Of all the horses on the ranch, she drew him the strongest, probably because she was in the worst shape.
“We make a pair, don’t we, girl?” he murmured as he held out a bit of apple for her.
The last few nights, he’d spent hours just sitting and talking nonsense to her. He’d even taken to singing snatches of whatever songs he could remember, though he’d felt a little silly. It seemed to work, though, because she’d finally rewarded him by coming close enough to her stall door to let him rub her neck and shoulder a couple of times.
“I’m probably still just using you as another excuse to avoid what I should be doing, but you don’t mind. And at least I’m doing something good while I’m procrastinating.”
He held the slice of apple out, but she made no move to come closer to the door.
“Come on, girl. It’s all right. You know me.”
She shifted restlessly and swished her tail in agitation.
“What’s the matter, girl? Want to be left alone tonight?”
She hadn’t been this nervous with him since the first time he saw her. She paced the confines of the stall and let out a cross between a squeal and a grunt. The other horses farther up the aisle poked their heads out of their stalls and made nervous inquisitive noises of their own.
Concerned that she was acting a little strangely, he walked quickly back up the aisle and turned on the overhead lights. Blinking in the sudden glare, he trotted back to her stall.
“Nothing to worry about. Just want to get a better look at you.”
He wasn’t sure if the words were for him or her, but as he noticed her sweaty sides and the slight tremble in her legs, his anxiety grew.
“I’m going to go get Russ now. It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather piss him off and be wrong than….”
Deciding he really didn’t want to finish that sentence, he trotted back up the aisle and broke into a jog the rest of the way to the house.
“Russ?” He knocked lightly on the man’s bedroom door. “Russ?”
“Yeah?” came the grumpy reply.
“Hey, it’s probably nothing, but—”
Russ opened the door, fully dressed with his boots already on. Behind him, Jordan spotted a laptop open on the bed with what looked like a live feed from the barn on the screen in black-and-white.
“I saw the lights in the barn come on,” he replied gruffly at Jordan’s raised eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. It’s Marina. She’s sweating and upset. She wouldn’t take the treat I offered, and she loves apples.”
Russ pushed past him and headed down the stairs while Jordan followed close on his heels.
“Shit!” Russ exclaimed after peering into the stall.
“What?”
“See that discharge?” he asked, pointing toward her hindquarters. A disgusting-looking fluid ran down her back legs, partially obscured by her tail as she shifted and paced nervously. “It’s either infection or labor, neither of which is good, since she’s nowhere near time. Her udder is filling too, dammit.”
Jordan’s stomach twisted, and a ball of fear formed in his chest. “What do we do?”
“Stay here and try to keep her calm. I’ll go call Dr. Watney.”
Left alone again, Jordan moved closer and tried to coax her to him again. “It’s okay, Marina. We’re going to take good care of you.”
He kept up a steady stream of gentle gibberish, and it seemed to help. She stopped pacing and moved to get some water from the bucket not far from where Jordan stood. By the time Russ came back, she’d even let him pat her neck once. She moved away when Russ stepped close, but not as far as before.
“Dr. Watney’s on her way. Her house is about thirty minutes from here, so we have a little time to get her
haltered and calmed enough to let the vet close.”
“She doesn’t really like much handling,” Jordan said skeptically.
“I know,” Russ said gently, without the harshness the obvious remark deserved.
Russ worked with her every day. He knew Marina better than anyone. Jordan just wasn’t thinking very clearly at the moment.
When Russ brought the halter, it took both of them nearly the entire thirty minutes to coax her into it and get her settled. A car pulled up outside just as Jordan had gotten Marina to nibble on a bit of apple in his palm, and Russ walked out to meet the vet.
Dr. Watney was a short, slight woman with tightly braided black hair and smooth coffee-colored skin that made it hard to judge her age.
“Tish, this is Jordan, a new recruit. Marina’s taken a real shine to him, so hopefully together we can keep her calm enough for you to do your job. Jordan, this is Dr. Latisha Watney, our savior on numerous occasions.”
“I’d shake hands, but my hands are a little full right now.”
Jordan held the halter lead loosely while he gently stroked Marina’s neck with his other hand.
“That’s okay, Jordan,” Dr. Watney replied with a smile. “You just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ve checked Marina out a couple of times since she’s been here, and you guys seem to have worked a miracle yet again. She’s much calmer than the last time, and I’m glad to see the weight she’s put on.”
Marina jerked her head slightly and snorted when the other two entered the stall, but Jordan kept murmuring to her until she settled a bit. She still seemed tense, and he was about to mention it, when Dr. Watney said, “I think it’s safe to get Dallas. So far, she doesn’t sound like it’s any kind of respiratory infection.”
Jordan threw a confused look at Russ.
“Having another good-tempered and well-trained horse nearby can sometimes calm the skittish,” Russ explained as he exited the stall. “She seemed to like Dallas when we did this before.”
Russ put Dallas in the stall next to Marina’s so the mare could see and touch muzzles with the old gelding. It seemed to help, as a little more tension left her body. Jordan was prepared for Russ to take over and kick him out of the stall, but Russ merely settled outside, leaving Jordan and Dr. Watney with Marina.
While the vet worked her way slowly to the mare’s hind end, Jordan tried not to think about anything other than comforting Marina. He became so focused on connecting with her and keeping her calm and happy, he didn’t even notice when Dr. Watney finished her examination and stepped out of the stall.
It wasn’t until he felt a broad hand on his shoulder that Jordan lifted his head and blinked away the fog. Russ studied Jordan’s face with deep brown eyes, but his expression was unreadable.
“It’s okay, Jordan. She’s done with the examination.” Russ’s voice was softer and gentler than Jordan had ever heard it, which kind spooked him more than if Russ had snapped at him.
“Does she know what’s wrong?”
“It’s an infection,” Russ replied somberly. “She’s not sure what kind yet. She’s taking samples back to her office tonight for the tests. Once she knows, she’ll be back with medicine.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Jordan asked hopefully. Except Russ looked anything but relieved.
Shaking his head, Russ said, “The infection has probably spread to the placenta. That’s why we’re seeing swelling in her udder. Signs like that usually mean the mare will abort the foal before it reaches full term.”
Jordan’s stomach twisted, and the fear he’d managed to banish while calming Marina returned as he stepped away from her and into the aisle with the others. “Isn’t there something we can do?”
“We wait,” Russ replied. “She’s too thin to be pregnant anyway. It’s probably better for her if she loses it now. Then she can concentrate on healing herself first without the added strain.”
Jordan understood the logic. It just didn’t make him feel much better. Marina was sick and might lose her baby. That was all his heart cared about.
Dr. Watney returned, drying her hands after washing them in the sink at the front of the barn. “I’ll take the samples in now, and I’ll call as soon as I have results on whether it’s fungal or bacterial and we can decide on treatment. I recommend keeping a close eye on her. I have a bad feeling it won’t be long before we know if the foal was affected. If she starts labor, give me a call and I’ll come back. She just hasn’t had enough time to get healthy for this yet, so she may need some help.”
“I’ll watch her,” Jordan offered before Russ could say anything.
Russ flashed him one of his small smiles, which up until that point had seemed to be reserved for everyone else on the ranch but Jordan, before turning back to the vet. “I’ll walk you out.”
Over his shoulder, Russ said, “I’ll bring you some coffee and your tablet, if you want it.”
Jordan nodded, and they disappeared through the doors.
Once they were gone, he moved to Marina’s stall door again and said, “It’s just you and me tonight, girl. I’m going to keep an eye on you, and we’re going to do everything we can for you.”
Fifteen minutes later, Russ returned with a thermos full of coffee, a basket with some of Phyllis’s muffins, a bowl of sugar, and a carton of half-and-half. He had a blanket draped over one shoulder and Jordan’s tablet tucked under his arm.
“I’d stay out here too,” Russ said apologetically, “but someone’s got to see to everyone else tomorrow. Plus, tomorrow’s Friday, so the weekenders will be here before we know it. I think we got another Girl Scout troop coming our way on Saturday.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t take two people to watch her. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Yeah, all right.” Russ turned to go but hesitated. “Eat those muffins. Don’t want you keeling over on us too.”
Jordan forced a smile and nodded. The last thing he wanted right now was to think about food. “Good night.”
Chapter Twelve
RUSS COULD tell the minute he stepped into the barn that Jordan needed to go to bed. Even from thirty feet away, he could see Jordan’s sallow complexion and puffy purple-ringed eyes.
“How’s she doing?” he asked as soon as he was close enough that he didn’t have to shout.
Jordan shrugged. “About the same… suffering.”
He looked ten times worse up close. His eyes were red with exhaustion, his normally perfect hair lank and sticking out at odd angles.
“Okay. Well, we can take it from here. Jon and Ernie will be here soon, along with a couple of Friday volunteers, and Phyl’s going to come down as soon as she’s finished in the kitchen. I filled her in this morning.”
A glance at the basket he’d lugged out last night showed only one muffin had been picked at, less than half of it gone, and he frowned.
Stifling his exasperation, he said, “Get yourself on up to the house. Have some breakfast, and get some sleep.”
With a slight bob of his head, Jordan collected the basket and the rest of his things and shuffled toward the house. Hopefully Phyl would take one look at him and go into hyper mother hen mode… stuff some food into him before tucking him in.
“How are we this morning, little lady?” he murmured to Marina as he stepped up to the stall. She stood in the far corner. Her muscles quivered every once in a while, a shiver running down her body, and her head hung low. Russ clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Hang in there, sweetie. You ain’t never been mothered like ol’ Phyl’s gonna mother you. You just wait.”
Less than two hours later, Russ was returning Missy to the pasture after running her through her paces when he spotted a familiar blond-highlighted head pushing a wheelbarrow through the yard.
“What the hell?”
He set Missy free and closed the gate before charging after Jordan.
“What are you doing out here?” he barked as soon as he was close enough. “You shou
ld be in bed.”
Jordan turned dull eyes in his direction and shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“I don’t care if you sleep or not, but you need to lie down before you fall down,” he growled.
“I can’t,” Jordan argued. “All I see is her, Marina, suffering, when I close my eyes. I need a distraction, so I might as well work.”
Russ forced a breath out his nose and gritted his teeth. What he wanted to say was Jordan was being a damned fool, but Jordan was still all kinds of raw on several fronts, and he’d promised Phyl and Jordan he’d be nicer from now on. After another longer, slower inhale and exhale, Russ said, “Look, I get it. But you’re working on no sleep and, knowing you, probably less than half the calories you should.”
Jordan frowned, but Russ held up a placating hand. “Put that wheelbarrow away and come back here. You can get some of our less placid beauties prettied up for our guests tomorrow. Give as many of the horses that are ready for adoption a bath as you can, but start with the least friendly and work your way up, so whoever’s left are the sweetest tempered to hand over to the volunteers tomorrow. Is that enough of a distraction?”
The Second Time Around Page 8