“I totally agree.”
We sit in silence for several moments, looking up at the stars and just being together. I want to pinch myself to be sure this is for real. But it is. It is perfect and as it was always meant to be.
CHAPTER fifteen
It’s getting late, and I don’t want any of your roomies reporting you. Seems like you have a nosy one in the crowd,” Austen says as we start to make our way back.
“There’s nosy, moody, and bitchy. Add a few more and I’d feel like I’m among the seven dwarves on steroids.”
He laughs. “Good one, Viv. Good one.”
“I’m occasionally good for a joke or two.”
It’s still humid and the scent of earth, pasture, and horse mingles in the night air. “You know, with all our relationship kind of talk back there, I failed to ask you if you’d learned anything about Paisley, Tiffany’s daughter.”
He lets out a low whistle. “She’s a weird one. Haverly is an ass, but that chick is crazy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“For starters, I asked her to clean out the feed buckets, and I thought she was going to cry. I’m head working student, so I can make that call.” He puffed out his chest.
“You are, are you?”
“I am.”
“Such prestige.”
“Stop. You’re teasing me now,” he says. “Anyway, she was cleaning buckets and I was washing out the tack area while soaking bits, and I saw her mom come in—”
“Tiffany.”
“The one and only. I overheard bits and pieces of their conversation. Paisley was complaining about being a working student. Her mom was all over her that she had to do this, that her stepdad was making them all learn responsibility. Paisley started crying, and I heard her say that he’d never been like that before Joel died.”
“Interesting.”
“There’s more. Tiffany seemed really pissed off, and even told Paisley that her marriage could be over if Paisley didn’t start acting more responsibly. I had to walk away then, because one of the horses was banging on his stall. I don’t know what happened between them after that, but when Tiffany left, Paisley was in tears and talking under her breath. When I asked her if she was okay, she told me to ‘f’ off.”
“She did?”
“Yep, and she said the entire thing.”
“Hmm.”
“Yep. I agree. Hmm. What do you make of it?” he asks.
“Dysfunction junction. I’m thinking their family is sort of falling apart. It sounds like Joel’s dad has gotten tired of being the money tree and like he insisted that Paisley do something on her own for a change.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Anything else?”
“Hey, I think I did pretty good on the first day of the job, don’t you? I’m like a regular private investigator.”
“I suppose you are. And yes, you did a great job today.”
“What do I get for it?” he asks.
We stop just outside the barns, both of us knowing that in moments we have to go our separate ways for the night and all day tomorrow we have to act like there is nothing at all between us. I take hold of the collar of his shirt on either side and pull him toward me. I kiss him hard, pushing my body into his, and then slide my mouth around to his ear, nipping at it with my teeth ever so slightly. I even surprise myself by this move.
His arms wrap around my waist tightly and he picks me up and whispers, “Jesus, Viv, where did you learn that?”
I laugh. “Guess I’ve watched my share of Pretty Little Liars.”
“Watch some more, will you?”
“Deal.”
“There is one more thing before you go, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you all evening.”
“It’s about my dad. Isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Lay it on me.”
He sighs. “You’re scheduled to ride with him tomorrow. I saw the roster before I came to meet you.”
I cluck my tongue. “Okay.”
He takes both of my hands in his. “It’s going to be okay. You’re not in this alone.”
“I know. Thank you.”
I put my arms around his neck and he holds me tight. If I could stay here forever, I’m pretty sure that I would. I would remain in Austen’s arms without a care and let all this other stuff fall by the wayside—this complicated stuff that I’m beginning to hate.
Something tells me that being an adult can sometimes really suck.
CHAPTER sixteen
I’ll never forget the morning my life changed drastically within a matter of minutes. It was the day after my tenth birthday.
The day before had been so much fun.
My friends and I had been out at Gail’s place, where we rode, then my mom had picked us up and taken us all out for pizza. My dad wasn’t there for pizza that evening, and maybe that should have been a tip-off for me. But he’d shown up with my birthday cake.
And now as I look back and remember that night and the next day with a little more clarity, I understand that there were clues that I would wake up on the morning of August 10 to find my father gone—not just for the day, week, or month . . . but for all the years afterward.
Like, when he’d hugged me that night before bed, his grip had been a little tighter. And he’d said, “I love you,” which wasn’t something he said all that often. He’d told me that he was proud of me and that I was a great kid. Even remembering this part is hard. Why did he have to be like that? He should’ve just left.
Before that day, though, my father had been a decent dad. He worked for an equestrian magazine and he trained event horses. Once he left us, his career took off. He remarried. We weren’t in touch, and I never talked about him. I convinced myself that our paths would never cross. I had so much anger and hurt, but ignored it so long it just turned into numbness. Which somehow I thought meant I was okay.
But I’ve been lying to myself for a long time it seems. Even my horse knows it. I still can’t get over the fact that she was directly speaking to me last night. Crazy!
As far as my father goes, I have to face the facts. My dad is still in my world—the world of horses, the world of eventing. And believing that I would never see him again just because I lived on the West Coast and he lived on the East Coast? That was pure wishful thinking. Given his prominent role in the horse world, and my ambitions to make the Olympic team, it was inevitable that this day would eventually come. The world of three-day eventing is not all that big when it comes down to it.
I pull on my britches, slip on my riding boots, and tie back my hair. I don’t want to admit that I’m probably feeling more fragile than I’ve ever felt before, as if I could fall apart if someone said the wrong word to me. Thank God everyone has already left the cabin, because I don’t want anyone guessing how awful I feel inside. Now, as I open it, Austen is standing there. He remembered. He’s waiting for me.
“Hey. Good morning. How you doing?” He reaches for my hand and I give it to him. He pulls me in, holding me there on the front steps of the cabin. He doesn’t need me to answer. He knows exactly how I’m doing. So much for keeping it a secret that I feel awful and depressed. Who am I kidding? This is my best friend, and now so much more. He whispers in my ear. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be right there with you.”
I nod and fight back the tears. I pull away and say, “We better not let anyone see us. I couldn’t take it if you were kicked out of here for ‘fraternizing.’ ” I hold up my fingers and make little quote mark impressions in the air and try to laugh it all off.
“A friendly hug won’t get me fired.” He winks at me, then puts his arm around me. “Come on, you can do this. And when you start to freak out inside, which I know you will because I know you . . .”
“Yes, you do.” I laugh n
ervously again.
“You look at me, and I’ll give you our sign. Okay?”
“Our sign?”
“Yeah. Come on. You know the sign.”
“I do?” I ask, confused.
He crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Really? You don’t remember our sign? When we were little kids and I’d do this . . .” He takes one pointed finger in between the other on the other hand and his thumb and he tugs on it.”
“Oh my God!” I laugh for real this time. “How could I forget?”
“I know. How could you forget?”
“The fart sign.”
He nods. “The fart sign.”
When we were kids at the barn, Austen had a thing about fart noises, like most of the other boys I knew. He loved to get under all the girls’ skin by making farting and burping noises nonstop. I have to admit that I found it rather amusing. When Gail would be giving us a lesson and call us into the middle of the ring to go over something, every time I’d look over at Austen, he’d give me the fart sign to try to make me laugh. It worked a lot of the time, and when it didn’t, I had to look away so that I wouldn’t start cracking up and get into trouble. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I might bust up.”
“That’s exactly why it’s a great idea. Come on, you know I make you laugh.”
“Yes, you do. This just isn’t a funny situation.”
We start walking to the barn. “I know it isn’t. Trust me. I can’t even imagine how difficult this is for you. I’m not trying to make light of it. I was there after your dad left. We may have been kids, Viv, but I was there and I know what it did to you. I saw how hard it was for you. But you have to face this. You have to deal with your father. He’s here and you’re in this program and I don’t think you want to leave.”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve worked too hard to leave here. And now . . . there’s you. I wouldn’t want to leave you.” I want to ask him if he, too, has been consulting with my horse, not to mention Riley—who told me practically the same thing. They are all apparently on the same wavelength.
“Good. Because I wouldn’t want you to leave me, either! So, face him. I think that maybe you’ll find once you do that, you’ll finally be able to heal—and move on.”
I don’t respond for a minute as what he said sinks in. Then I stop walking a few yards from the barn. He looks at me. “What?”
“I love you.”
He smiles. “I love you too. We’ve established that.”
“No. I really love you. Like, I honestly have never felt like this before.” I laugh. “I know my timing is weird. I should have said it to you the other night when you told me you loved me, but I was caught off guard.”
His blue eyes gaze into mine. “You’re telling me now.”
“Yes,” I say. “And . . .” I take a step closer to him, but he pulls away a bit and lightly gives me the type of punch on my arm that says, we’re just friends.
“I really want to kiss you right now, but we have company,” he says under his breath. Together, we turn to see Tristan and Lydia inside the barn, studying us through the open doors. He smiles. “Just know that later on, I’m going to kiss you. And I might not stop.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Oh yes, it is.” He makes the fart sign. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I make the fart sign back and we walk into the barn.
CHAPTER seventeen
I take Harmony out of the stall and start tacking her, doing my best to ignore Tristan and Lydia. I spot Riley taking Melody out of her stall. I walk up to him after putting my horse in the cross ties. “We still haven’t really had the chance to talk,” I say. Ever since he didn’t respond to my texts at the pool, I have had the feeling that Riley has been avoiding me. “I’m getting worried. Are you okay?”
He turns to me and I can tell he’s been crying. His eyes are puffy and red. “Riley,” I gasp. “What happened?”
“It’s Santos. He’s done. His career is over. I talked with the vet. There’s no hope. It’s my fault.”
“What do you mean?” I shake my head, confused by this.
“Well, after he pulled up lame in Lexington, and we took him home, he seemed somewhat better. My parents wouldn’t even spend the money to have him ultrasounded. Then, all the stuff with Joel . . . I had Santos on stall rest and iced him. What I didn’t think about was that he could have torn the suspensory, since I let him just stand in the stall. Because the injury happened at the sesamoid, we didn’t see any heat or swelling. It’s been too much time standing on it without treatment. He’ll never compete again. My horse is now a lawn ornament.”
I put my arms around him and give him a hug. “I’m so sorry, Ri.”
“I know. I can’t cry anymore. It’s just that I had so many plans. Germany! I planned to go to Germany with him and get the best dressage training possible, Vivvie. Not now.” He tears up.
“Hey, hey. I know. I know. I do. We’ve talked. But keep it together. Go out there and ride Mel for now. Focus, Ri. And let’s talk later.” I’m trying to walk a fine line. I want to be empathetic and supportive, but I also want to give him the pep talk I know he needs. Losing your horse is the worst experience ever. The plus side is that Santos is still alive. But his injury is career ending. That much I do know. I so feel for Riley, but I also know that if he dwells on this before he goes out for his lesson, then he’s only defeating his goals. Santos won’t be able to take Riley to the next level of his career, but I refuse to believe that Riley won’t find another way. As his friend, my instinct right now says to keep him focused.
“You’re right,” he replies. “Let’s definitely talk later. Dinner? You and me?”
“Of course.” I’d made plans with Austen, but considering what Riley is going through, I’m sure Austen will understand. But boy do I want that kiss he promised me.
“Good. Finish tacking up. You’re right. We need to stay the course.”
I hug him again, quickly, so that no one sees. I don’t want anyone to get wind that he’s upset, because I’m sure the questions will start flying then. And Lydia would probably be the first person inquiring. Riley feels the same way that I do about her. I smile and give him one last piece of advice. “Ride, Ri. Go ride your heart out.”
“Okay.”
I’m doing my best to go back to my business with Harmony, but my stomach is churning. I’m worried about Riley and now I also have to deal with the fact that in moments I’m going to come face-to-face with my father. When he’d been introduced by Faith at the meeting, I hadn’t taken the time to focus on him. This sounds awful, but I can’t even remember right now what he looked like.
Austen walks past me a few times, and I can tell he’s trying to get a read on my emotional state without being obvious. The next time he walks past, I look at him and smile. I make the fart sign and he smiles back.
Lydia starts to walk past me with her brush box in hand. She stops and smiles that wicked smile of hers. “Is it true that Frank Taylor is your dad?”
I keep brushing Harmony and decide ignoring her might be the best tactic. That’s been my motto all along with her.
“Vivienne, I asked you a question.”
I turn and face her. “It’s none of your business.”
Tristan walks up then and grabs the brush box from her. “Come on, Lydia, leave her alone. It isn’t your business.”
“Why not? I want to know. I mean, he’s one of our new coaches and one of the top trainers in the country. They do have the same last name, and rumors travel quickly in small groups. I sort of heard it through the grapevine. Plus, who could’ve missed her storming out of the meeting yesterday? That was quite dramatic, Viv. Could’ve won an Academy Award for that, I think.” She crosses her arms and looks at Tristan, and then back at me. “Don’t you find it fascinating that she’s never mentioned it before?
That her dad is none other than the Frank Taylor? I do. Makes me wonder if that’s how she got her scholarship to Fairmont—you know, did good old dad pull some strings?”
Although I should know better than to get closer to a viper like Lydia, I move away from Harmony and take a couple steps toward my nemesis. She tosses her blond hair over one shoulder like she’s ready to fight.
“Lydia, stop it,” Tristan says.
I sigh again. “You know, you’re such a bitch. The truth is that, yes, he’s my father, but he left our family when I was ten and I haven’t seen him since. So, no, he didn’t help, and I earned my scholarship all on my own. Not something you can relate to. Are you happy now? Happy that I told you my deep, dark secret, so you can run off and tell everyone some twisted version of my life story? Because that is what you do. Change the truth to fit your needs. Tell lies if you have to. I really don’t get it. You must be really bored to spend so much time making things up.”
“Oh, I’m hardly bored.” She bats those stupid eyelashes of hers at Tristan, who turns red. “Ouch. That must of hurt; poor Vivvie, Daddy leaving you and Mommy.”
I have patience, and I’m not easily angered, but, yes, I’m going to hit this bitch. I pull my right arm back and go to swing, when I suddenly feel a hand grab my elbow and stop my punch in midair. It’s Austen. “She’s not worth it. She really isn’t. Don’t listen to her crap.”
“Oh, how cute, Prince Charming to the rescue.”
“Lydia . . .” Tristan pleads.
“I’m going. I can’t wait for this lesson to begin. I’m sure it’s going to be fascinating.” She struts away.
Tristan turns to me. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything,” I reply.
“I know, but I’m, I’m sorry for—”
Austen cuts in. “She gets it, bro. You’re sorry. You guys better finish tacking. Your lesson starts in five.”
I see dejection in Tristan’s eyes and I can’t help but feel bad for him. I know it’s stupid. I know he lied to me, and he’s back with Lydia, and, trust me, I have no interest in getting back together with him. But I still feel bad when I realize that he is truly sorry.
Perfect Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 3) Page 9