Perfect Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 3)

by Michele Scott

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry about all of this.”

  “Okay.” I mean, what does she want me to say? That it’s all good? “That doesn’t change anything.”

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to accept my apology, but I think if you hear me out then maybe you’ll understand better.”

  “I am hearing you out, Mom. Right here. Right now.”

  She sighs heavily and starts in. “I met Frank after I had met another man. I fell madly in love very quickly with the first guy. I was twenty years old. He was my first love, I guess you could say. It didn’t last long and we lived in different countries. I met him at a riding clinic in California while on a break from college.”

  “Okay.”

  “I went back to Oregon after a month of being in California, because I needed to go back to school. We tried for a few weeks to keep in touch but he moved on, which forced me to move on.”

  “True love doesn’t do that,” I say sarcastically.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We were both only twenty. Young people do stupid, impulsive things. I did. He did. I did love him, and I think that maybe he felt the same way about me. But he had a riding career ahead of him and I knew I wanted to go to vet school. Then I met Frank. He was cute, nice, smart, funny, and he cared about me.”

  “More true love.” I look away from her.

  “I learned I was pregnant a month after I met your dad. I mean, Frank.”

  “Jeez, Mom, what were you? Sounds like you got around.”

  She turns red and shakes her head. “No, Vivienne. Not really. Actually, I’ve only slept with two men in my life. The first one because I was head over heels about him. The second one was to forget the first one.”

  I nod and look down, stirring a spoon around in my coffee cup. Her comeback does make me feel bad. I know in my heart that my mom isn’t a slut. She hasn’t dated since Frank left—not really. She’s been busy trying to support my brother and me.

  “When I found out I was pregnant, I really didn’t know who the father was. But when the doctor gave me the due date, I knew it wasn’t Frank.”

  “Why didn’t you just call the other guy and tell him, then? Wouldn’t that have solved all of this?”

  “No. I actually tried, but he was in Europe competing. That was where he was from. He’d been over here on a visa. I wanted to tell him, but I saw media photos of him with another woman and they looked happy. And Frank wanted to marry me. I was scared, Vivienne. I was twenty years old. I wanted to have you, and I wanted you to have two parents, and I knew Frank would be a good dad.”

  “But he wasn’t, was he? He left us after all.”

  “That was my fault too.”

  “What? He told me he had an affair after he found out about me.”

  She nods. “He did. We discovered that Frank couldn’t have kids and that’s when we did in vitro with your brother using a sperm donor. After the doctor told him that he had likely been sterile his entire life, he started to put two and two together. I had to tell him the truth then. It was horrible and, trust me, I have such regrets. I’ve tried for years to focus on the positives of this, and they are that we do have your brother, and that the three of us got to stay together as a family.”

  “Maybe you had regrets but you didn’t try to come clean,” I say. “Obviously.”

  “Look, the point is, I got to focus on you and your brother. You know I’ll do anything to make your dreams come true. Same goes for him.”

  “Why? Out of guilt?”

  “No. Because I really do love you. I know what I did was stupid and using my age then probably sounds lame. But, trust me, I thought it was the best, and I only wanted to do what was right for you.”

  I look into her eyes and I know she means what she says. My heart softens some because, no matter what, she’s my mom and I do love her. That’s why this is killing me so much.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth after Frank left us? Why did you keep hiding the facts from me?”

  She shrugs. “Probably because I didn’t know how you’d handle it. I didn’t know what to say. You were only ten.”

  “Okay, so why not tell me later, like when I was thirteen, or something? When I could understand.”

  “Maybe I should have. But over the years, you’ve become so well-adjusted. You have the horses and your future. And we have always been close. I guess I was scared that if you knew the truth that maybe you’d search for your birth father, and we would lose what we had together.”

  “That’s so selfish, Mom.”

  “I know. I know it is.”

  “But, strangely enough, I kind of see your point.”

  “You do?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted you to stay focused on your dream of going to the Olympics one day. If you set out on another mission, my fear was that it would take that away.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. But you’re right. I want to . . . I need to know who my real father is.”

  Just then, over my mom’s shoulder, I see Lydia and Janna walking into the dining room. Both of them look surprised to see me with someone. They walk over to where we are at the coffee station and stare at us.

  “This is my mom,” I say, stating what’s probably obvious. “She got in last night.”

  “Nice to meet you,” says Lydia.

  Janna smiles.

  My mom turns back to me. “Vivienne, I’d really like to finish our talk,” she says.

  “Fine,” I say. “Go ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  Lydia catches my eye and gives me a supportive look.

  My mom shakes her head. “Not here. Let’s go somewhere private.”

  I feel myself starting to shake with anger again. My emotions are clearly on a roller coaster, so maybe my mom has the right idea. I reply, quietly, “Fine. Let’s go outside.”

  We walk out of the Commons House just as Austen comes up the steps.

  “What a surprise,” he says. “Hi, Dr. Taylor.”

  It sounds so funny when he says it, because it hits me that my mom never changed her last name from Frank’s—mine either, for that matter.

  “Hi, Austen,” she says.

  Then Austen turns to me and looks deeply into my eyes and I know he’s trying to tell me that he cares. Everything about his look is trying to remind me that things will be okay, that I need to breathe and all of that . . . and I know that is what he’s saying. But right now I don’t want to do any of those things.

  All I want is the truth, and I really hope I’m going to get it.

  I lead the way and my mother and I walk out onto the path that leads to the cross-country course. Neither of us says anything. It’s already starting to get hot, which only adds to the misery. We pause when we reach a big tree that offers shade and a patch of grass, and my mom tries to take my hand, but I don’t let her.

  She sits down. I’d prefer to stand but I sit down too, cross-legged, and I face her. “Well. I’m here. We’re alone. It’s private. Not that it matters. Everyone already knows what’s going on.”

  She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, finally, I break the silence.

  “Well, are you going to tell me? You said he lived in another country. Where? You said that he rides. What does he do?” Suddenly, I’m fascinated by who this man is, and I have a ton of questions. My mind is abuzz.

  Her eyes soften. “You already know him.”

  I cock my head to the side. “What?”

  “Yes. You know him really well. He lives here now.”

  “Mom?” Oh God, here comes that sick feeling again in my stomach. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your dad is right here. He’s actually right over there.”

  I look to where she’s pointing and I feel like I’m going to pass out as
I spot Holden Fairmont walking our way.

  CHAPTER forty-six

  Suddenly, the warm, humid morning feels unbearably hot as prickles of sweat break out all over my body. I stare at Holden as he walks closer.

  “Does he know?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she replies.

  “What? For how long?” I’m stunned as I try to wrap my brain around this new revelation. There is this part of me that wants to get up and run as fast as I can, but my legs are like Jell-O and there is no way I can move.

  “Since you were hurt and went to the hospital last December.”

  “What?”

  Holden slows as he approaches us and looks from me to my mother. “She told you.” It’s definitely a statement, not a question.

  “She did.” I hear the words, but question if they’re coming from me. I find myself in this strange state of confusion mixed with anger and amazement—I really don’t know how to describe it. I really don’t know, because I have never felt anything like this ever before. Holden is my father. UNEFFINGBELIEVABLE!

  I also find myself studying his face like I never have before. Oh my God—his eyes. I think we have the same eyes. I really do, and I touch my face. Do we have the same nose? Same cheekbones? I always thought I looked like my mom.

  He sits down on the other side of me, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Kind of crazy, isn’t it?”

  “You could say that,” I reply. “I’ve heard Frank’s story, and now my mom’s, so what about yours?” I want answers. Maybe I am as brave as Tristan and Emily.

  “I suppose you deserve to hear my side of the story,” Holden says. “I’m sure your mom told you that we had a love affair.”

  When he says that, I kind of find myself cringing. I mean, my mom and Holden? I think of him as my mentor, my coach—and now I’ve just found out that he’s my dad. Who was once together with my mom. It’s weird.

  “Yeah. She told me.”

  “I didn’t know she got pregnant. And after speaking with your mom last December, I understood why she never told me about you. I really do understand. I can’t say that I’m happy about it. I want you to know that if I had known, I would have been there. To know you now and know what a wonderful young woman you are, I’m honored to be your father.”

  “Then why, if you’ve known for seven months, didn’t you tell me this?”

  He looks at my mom and she answers. “We planned to, but you were going through so much at the time. New school, being hurt so badly, catching a killer—all of it. We felt it was best to wait.”

  I shake my head. “When did you plan to tell me?” I’m feeling that raging anger start up again.

  “It wasn’t all her idea,” says Holden. “I also asked your mom to wait. I wanted to finish things neatly with Kayla before we told you.”

  “What?”

  “Kayla and I are divorcing. She wants to be with Christian. It’s a long story, but it’s the right thing. When we told you, I wanted all of that taken care of, so it wouldn’t distract me. I wanted to be as available as I could possibly be for you. I knew that this would be an entirely new relationship for us. And I liked the idea of doing it away from Fairmont, after your first year was over. You had such a big adjustment starting school there, coming in on scholarship like you did, and being forced to hold your ground as the new girl . . .”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Not much gets past me, Vivvie. I cofounded Fairmont with Kayla. We’ve always known about the mean-girl problem. We knew they’d see you as prey. Luckily, it doesn’t look like that worked for them.”

  I actually smile when he says this. “I kind of did give it back to them.”

  “I figured,” he replies.

  “On top of you dealing with that adjustment, you had the Newman Becker thing,” he says, referring to a big-time trainer I helped put behind bars for murder, with Harmony’s help. “And you got hurt. After that it was Martina’s disappearance,” he reminds me, referring to when my roommate went missing at the beginning of last semester. “And then there was Joel’s death after the championships in Kentucky. You’ve had a lot on your plate, and your mom and I both agreed that the timing needed to be right.”

  “I’m not sure that the timing could ever be right in a situation like this,” I reply quietly.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  My mom takes my hand. “I’m sorry, Vivienne.”

  “I am too,” Holden says.

  I sigh heavily. What do you say? How do you react? On one side, I can see their point. I mean, I’ve never been a parent, but I know how I feel about my horses, and I’d probably do just about anything to protect them. I’ve had a lot happen in this past year, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll eventually understand. On the other side, there’s the way my mom, of all people, has acted after continually telling me to be honest. And to find out that she’s lied to me my entire life by omission? It’s a lot to swallow. And now I find out that Holden has been harboring this secret for more than six months. I finally say, “If it’s okay, I really need some time alone, some time to think.”

  “Of course,” they both reply in unison.

  I stand and walk away with this foreign but true thought crossing my mind, “I’m walking away from my parents.”

  CHAPTER forty-seven

  I’m lying on my top bunk staring at the ceiling when a text from Austen pops up on my phone, then one from Riley. Having seen me leave the Commons House with my mom, I’m sure they’re wondering how our “talk” went. I just respond the same way to both of them: “Meet for coffee?”

  I don’t really want to talk about it. Because I’m not actually sure what to think. I’m feeling understanding and compassion and hate and anger toward my mom, all at once. And that’s confusing.

  She has called three times. Holden twice.

  At the same time, I can’t just stay on my bunk in isolation all day. It seems weird to keep such big news from the two people I’m closest to. Ten minutes later, the three of us sit in the mostly empty dining hall with cups of coffee as I tell them the news, and watch their expressions stretch in amazement.

  “Holden is your dad,” Riley repeats, his eyes wide.

  “Yep,” I say.

  Austen seems more shocked about my mother’s behavior. “She always preached honesty even about things like stealing from the cookie jar,” he says. “It’s so surprising.”

  “I’m not forgiving her yet,” I say, looking down at my cup.

  “Are you okay, Viv?” he says.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” I say. “I just need time to think things over.”

  “That’s completely understandable,” Austen says and he eyes Riley, who nods.

  “Yeah, it is. But we are here for you,” Riley adds.

  “I know. That’s why I called you both.” I look down at my phone on the table and see the time. “I’ve gotta go. I have a lesson with Bernard.”

  “Good. Take your mind off of all of this. The best medicine is your horse,” Austen says.

  “Thanks.” I stand up and they both get up and give me a hug. I recognize concern in their eyes. “I’ll be okay,” I add.

  I head to my lesson and afterward go back to the cabin, feeling exhausted. Harmony is probably feeling neglected by me right now, but I just want to crawl in bed and hide. My brain is short-circuiting from the news I just learned about my parents, and I actually fall asleep. When I open my eyes, it’s getting dark. I didn’t mean to nap, but clearly I’m wiped out. Hopefully the rest will do me good. I reach for my phone and see that Austen texted me again.

  It’s going down tonight. Didn’t want to bother you with it earlier. Don’t worry. Ri and I have this.

  What the hell is he talking about? I call him and get no answer. I call Riley and there’s no answer. I don’t like this at all.

  Besides,
what exactly does he mean that something is “going down tonight”? I realize with rising worry that it must be the meet-up where Chris is going to tell Austen all the details about distributing the drugs. I feel panicky as I grasp the idea that my two guys are about to get into the thick of things with that vicious trio. Especially because neither Austen nor Riley has filled me in on exactly what they plan to do—or how they might get Chris, Paisley, and James to implicate themselves in Joel’s murder.

  How could they leave me out? Jesus! Then it occurs to me: maybe I seem like a liability. With everything else I’ve been dealing with, maybe they decided I was better off working through my parental crap than putting Chris and his two followers away.

  My hunch about Wills had turned out to be a dead end—because the kid was a vault. Even on the trail ride, Austen and Riley hadn’t been able to get him to provide details about why he’d landed in juvie or tell tales about Chris Haverly. I’d tried to further befriend Will over the past couple of weeks as well, with no luck. He’d grown into less of a joker as the summer had progressed, although that “observer” quality I’d noticed at Tiffany’s house on the Fourth of July was still discernible. Wills had something brewing in his mind, but what that was, none of us had a clue.

  I pound my fist on the mattress in frustration. Dammit! Why didn’t they bring me in on the plan? I know the first thing I have to do is immediately track them down.

  In seconds I’m pulling on my shoes to head down to the barn. My gut tells me to do this, because it’s the one place that I seem to find answers—thanks to the horses. It’s getting dark when I step outside and, for a moment, I pause and consider getting backup. But who? I mean, how do I explain any of this? It’s not like I can just go find Emily or Lydia and be like, “Hey, so, care to join me on a quick errand to collar some killers?” Nope. There will be no backup.

  I text Austen again. I try calling as well but the call goes straight to voice mail.

  The same thing happens when I try Riley.

  Yeah—something is very off. But the dumb side of me ignores that obvious fact and I forge on alone. I find comfort in Harmony’s stall. She comes in from outside of her pen and places her head on my chest as usual. “I’m so happy that you can see all the way again,” I say.