Jumped

by Colette Auclair

  “Well, well,” Grady said. “Harris will be pissed!”

  “Daddy! You said a bad word!” Wave said.

  “Sorry, honey. Don’t tell your mother.” Then, quietly, “But Harris is going to be pissed.”

  Finn blew out a breath and opened the lid. It creaked. Inside was a star. A fiery diamond solitaire in a platinum setting. He knew without looking at the invoice that it was Bethany’s size, which he still remembered.

  Grady saw it and whistled. “And I thought the fountain was something. You were on some impressive drugs, my friend.”

  Solstice and Wave scrambled over. “Wow!” Wave said.

  “That’s, like, huge!” Solstice said.

  Grady came to the table, grinned, then asked, “Something you’d like to tell us?”

  “Yeah. You’re not keeping this one. It’s going back with me and my sword until I’m sure I don’t need it.”

  “Good luck with that,” Grady said, and patted Finn’s shoulder.

  16

  Amanda returned to the table alone and gave Finn an apologetic smile. Finn’s heart dropped to his stomach so fast, he thought he’d hear it land. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he ate to be polite. Did she hate him so much that she couldn’t even eat breakfast with him and her friends?

  Breakfast conversation centered around Finn, his leg, how he’d get along at home, and the ring. He still hoped Bethany was waiting to make an entrance, even though she’d never made an entrance in her life. She was a no-maintenance, low-drama, funny, fun woman and he wanted to see her before he left. Whether or not it would happen was entirely up to her.

  “We’d better go.” Grady looked at his watch, said, “I’ll be right back,” and left the kitchen.

  “Yeah, okay.” Finn nodded and rose. “Thanks for breakfast. It was really good. You’ve all spoiled me. Now it’s back to cold cereal and Eggos.”

  “D’you really have to go?” Wave asked, her eyes, which were the exact blue of her father’s, troubled under slanted blond eyebrows. She was his little fan.

  Finn tightened his lips and nodded. “’Fraid so.”

  She walked to him at a funereal pace. Looking up, tears pooling in her sweet, sad eyes. She said, with a dignity well beyond most nine-year-olds, “Good-bye, Mr. Finn. I’m really gonna miss you a lot.”

  Finn had doubts about wanting children, but this wonder of a girl quashed them all. “Oh, Wave,” he said. “You are precious.” He bent over and she threw her arms around him and he hugged her back, balancing on one foot.

  “I love you, Mr. Finn,” she said in his ear. “I hope your leg feels better soon and you’ll come back.”

  He hugged her hard. “I . . . I love you, too, Wave.” His throat ached. He swallowed, pulled away to smile at her, then pulled a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his sports coat and dabbed her cheeks. He handed her the handkerchief.

  “I can keep it?”

  He nodded. “Sure can.”

  “Why do you carry around a napkin?”

  Finn laughed. “It’s a handkerchief. It’s what people used before they invented tissues.”

  “Why don’t you use tissues?”

  “Because,” Amanda said, “Mr. Finn is one classy guy.”

  Finn looked at his smiling hostess and wondered if this meant she knew what happened at Ptarmigan and approved.

  “Do you have a moment?” he asked Amanda.

  She nodded, and they moved into the living room, away from the girls.

  He said, “I left Bethany’s window in the cottage.”

  She looked at him with furrowed brows.

  “She’ll know what it means. And thank you for everything.”

  “It was our pleasure. You were an excellent patient at our makeshift rehab facility and you’re welcome to come back any time. I mean it—I’m glad we got to know you better, and . . . whatever happens, you’re always welcome, whether we’re here or in Malibu. I think she’d agree with that a hundred percent.”

  “Did she . . . say anything?”

  “No. She said she didn’t want to. She’s watching The War of the Roses and doing something on her computer. I know it looks bleak, but I think it’ll get better. I’m rooting for you.”

  He smiled. “Please tell her I said good-bye.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Let’s go!” Grady called from the foyer. “Gotta get to your ski chalet and free climb to your front door.”

  “Keep your pants on!” Amanda called.

  “That’s not what you said last night,” called Grady.

  “Quiet!” Amanda laughed, then hugged Finn. “Take care of that leg. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?”

  Finn hugged her as well as he could while keeping the crutches in place. “Thanks again. I can use all the help I can get.”

  As Grady swung Finn’s carry-on and suit bag into the back of the Brunswick family SUV, Finn got into his Audi. He had to accept that Bethany wasn’t throwing herself into his arms, begging him to stay. She wasn’t even riding with them to his house. As Grady fired up the engine, Finn started his car and looked at her window. The shades were down. He’d hoped, at the very least, that she’d watch him leave. But that only happened in the movies.

  In his films, Grady always got the girl. Would Finn get a Hollywood ending of his own?

  Driving was a delicate proposition, but Finn handled it. His leg felt like it was encased in cement, but he quickly figured out how much pressure he needed on the pedals, and he was grateful he had an automatic.

  An hour later Grady was behind Finn, carrying his bags up the stairs to his house. It was easier to negotiate the stairs sans crutches, so Finn limped his way up with the help of the railings.

  Finn unlocked the door and in they went. Finn looked around the place and sighed. He so didn’t want to be here, and he especially didn’t want to be here without Bethany.

  Grady put the bags in Finn’s bedroom, then said, “Glad you hung out with us. Sorry about the reason—truly, I apologize again—but it was good to have more Y chromosomes around the place.”

  “If I had to break my leg, I couldn’t have picked a better place to do it.”

  “One more thing,” Grady said. “If you want to marry Wave in another twenty years, I think she’ll still be sweet on you.”

  Finn laughed. “You’re going to have your hands full when she gets older.”

  “Can I borrow your samurai sword?”

  “All yours.”

  “On that subject . . . buddy, I hope you won’t have to return that ring.”

  “You and me both.”

  Grady shook Finn’s hand. “You’re not that far from us. Come by any time. For the gym, for dinner, or if you want to visit your fountain.”

  “Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

  Grady left. Finn took a long while to unpack. And thought about Bethany the entire time.

  The Bar at Element 47 in the Little Nell hotel had become the Aspen Creek offsite headquarters for drowning sorrows. Amanda had gone there last summer. Sunday evening was Beth’s turn. She sat with Amanda and Harris at a table by the bar. Beth took in the cool elegance, with dark wood paneling, navy leather chairs, and a backlit bar. It was, as Harris pointed out, “the only five-star, five-diamond property in all of Aspen” and as such, was one of his favorite watering holes.

  “Although on what Grady pays me, I can barely afford to come here more than once a day.”

  “Poor baby,” Amanda cooed and squeezed his arm. “You’re not getting a raise.”

  “But this isn’t about me and my cheapskate employer.” Harris glared at Amanda, then turned to Beth and took her hands. “This is about you. Was Pa-tarmigan pa-terrific or pa-tragic? We don’t know since you’ve been one sequestered equestrian.”

  Beth looked at her two friends
and sighed. “It was pa-traumatic and pa . . . confusing.” She related the story of the summer house and the land. Amanda and Harris stared at her as though she’d said Finn planned to slaughter Brooke for steaks.

  “He gave you the land? Just gave it to you? And he tore down your family’s house?” Amanda asked.

  Beth nodded.

  A server dressed like a jewel thief refilled their drinks.

  “We should order,” Harris said. “I can’t give my usual sterling advice if my blood sugar dips.”

  Beth said, “I thought that’s what the lemon drop was for.”

  “Look at you, sounding just like me!” Harris said, pleased.

  They chose several appetizers, including duck-fat fries, fried peanuts, and deviled eggs.

  “As I was saying, holy shinola,” Harris said. “For giving you land, I absolve him for unloading that heinous fountain on us. For destroying your family’s beloved summer bungalow, site of many a cherished childhood memory, I want to drown him in the monstrosity.”

  “It’s hostile,” Amanda said thoughtfully. “It’s so . . . extreme, and seems out of character. I don’t know Finn well, but I’ve gotten to know him some since he’s been here. I wouldn’t exactly call him a hothead.”

  “His heart was broken!” Harris said. “He’d lost the woman he loved!” He sipped his lemon drop. “Imagine this,” he gestured with both hands. “You’re Finn. You’re an architect. It’s the worst night of your life. You’re all alone in some godforsaken mountain town. You wallow in anguish, add a scotch chaser, throw in a sledgehammer, and see if you don’t raze a house or two. Is it extreme? Yes. But so is realizing you ruined your life.”

  Amanda said, “Don’t tell me you’re defending him.”

  “Not,” Harris said. “I’m merely proffering an explanation from the perspective of a hopeless romantic. Which obviously neither of you are. Hardhearted Hannahs.”

  Beth smiled in spite of herself and Harris squeezed her hand, smiled, and winked. He really was a gem.

  Amanda ignored Harris’s gentle barb and asked Beth, “Did he have a drinking problem when you were married?”

  “No. He drank some, he’d get wasted occasionally, and really wasted about once a year. Nothing bad. Now that you mention it, I’ve noticed he hardly drinks at all now.”

  Amanda looked at her friend with serious brown-gold eyes. “Beth. Was he ever abusive or violent?”’

  “God, no!”

  “Because if he was . . .” Amanda said.

  “No,” Beth repeated. “Never.”

  “Before yesterday’s . . . events,” Amanda said, “how were you feeling about you and Finn?”

  Beth shrugged. “I told him I loved him. I said the L-word again in Steamboat yesterday. Was that just yesterday? It seems like a million years ago.”

  “Why?” It was Amanda.

  “You mean besides the earth-shaking orgasms?”

  “Try to take those out of the equation.”

  Beth cradled her chin in her palms and stared at her drink. “I guess . . . because I do.”

  Amanda pressed her. “What happened? You know why I’m asking.”

  The black-clad server brought their food.

  Beth said, “I know, because you love me and want what’s best for me and you’re trying to circumvent my impulsive streak.” She paused. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving him. We didn’t get divorced because we didn’t love each other. We got divorced because we had drifted apart. We were living these separate lives and barely ever saw each other. Then we were stubborn and neither wanted to give in and do the work to stay together. We thought we’d be better off divorced because it felt like we were hardly married. We weren’t contributing to each other’s lives. The relationship had . . . deteriorated. It was sad. I was sad more than mad. Finn said he never stopped loving me, and I guess I never really stopped loving him, either.”

  Beth gave them a lopsided smile and poked at an ice cube with a cocktail straw. “But wait, there’s more.” She told them about how she had thought her job was more important than his. Then she hung her head and said, “How attractive is that?”

  “You’ve had better moments,” Amanda said. “Haven’t we all? What did Finn say?”

  Beth said, “He forgave me the next day. In retrospect, probably because he knew he was going to give me the land and he bulldozed my—my family’s former—house. Because when he razed it, technically, it was his house.”

  Harris continued, “So you’re still in love with him, princess. You can love him in your heart, the way I still love Luke Perry circa 90210. You don’t have to act on it.”

  Amanda turned to Beth. “You guys spent an awful lot of time together. And . . . I feel okay telling you this because if you’d been at breakfast today you would’ve been as surprised as the rest of us. Finn bought something else while he was on his Percocet shopping spree—an engagement ring.”

  Beth gasped.

  “Yes,” Harris said, “I’d bet Krugerrands to Cronuts it’s your size. And you can see it from space.”

  “Do you want to marry him? Have things changed enough?” Amanda asked.

  Beth licked some deviled egg from her finger. “I . . . maybe. He used to have this thing about not making enough money. He said he felt he wasn’t worthy of me and my dad is, as we like to call him, ‘the hardware baron of Ohio.’ Only Finn was serious, even though I didn’t care—after all, it’s not like I’m a Kennedy. But he grew up poor. That’s why he worked two jobs. Now, though, he’s doing well, and set to do even better if he gets Uncle Mitch’s project. So that conflict’s gone. Besides making more money, having his own firm means he controls his time.”

  “Even more reason for him to fight for this project,” Amanda said. “What else are you conflicted about?”

  “Me. Back then I was too busy, but not to make money. I wanted to do exactly what I wanted. I wanted Finn to accommodate my job. He’d ask me to do things with him, and I’d say yes and then cancel, over and over. Like, we needed a bed, and I said I’d go pick one out with him, and I canceled. He was frustrated, and I was annoyed that he didn’t understand. But in retrospect, his requests weren’t important to me. He didn’t ask that much, and I kept . . . to be blunt, I had no interest in compromise or sacrifice. Not that meeting your husband for dinner or at a furniture store is a huge compromise or sacrifice. But I did it far too often, and I can see that now. At the time, I thought he should just pick out a stupid bed. I missed the point. He wanted us to do things together. I wanted to be at the barn for as long as I pleased. It always seemed like something came up, and it was legit. But the truth is, I had—and sometimes still have—trouble saying no and I wanted to be the hero at the barn or the show.

  “And it got me a divorce. It’s the reason I got burned out on the whole show scene. For so long, I loved getting my kids ready for shows and running between rings, coaching. I loved feeling like I was so important and my students needed me so badly.

  “One night I was at a show, checking on the horses before I went to the hotel. I was looking in on this one gelding—a sweetie who tried his heart out. It was his last show because his rider wanted something fancier, and her parents bought her a bigger, better horse from Europe, because she didn’t win enough. Not all kids and their parents were like that, but I was getting a reputation and attracting more elite students. They didn’t love riding; they loved winning. And, yes, I found that horse a great home with another kid who adored him. But . . . I was putting in these long hours and it didn’t seem to be worth it anymore. Little by little, without knowing it, I had changed my focus to winning instead of producing good horsemen and good riders. There’s a subtle difference, but you know what I mean.” Beth looked at Amanda, who nodded.

  She sipped her gin and tonic and said, “This is going to sound crazy, but my clientele changed so that I had students with supe
r-talented horses, I was making more money than ever because they all wanted soup-to-nuts training, they were winning, and I had never been more unhappy. A kid would ride well, but the horse nicked a pole, the kid wouldn’t win, and even though she rode great, she’d be in tears and the parents blamed me. Horsemanship didn’t matter. Ribbons did. Horses were a means to an end, period.”

  Beth ate the last four peanuts.

  Harris looked at Beth with his tan brow furrowed. “Is that why you want to rescue horses? Because they’re treated like such commodities?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I think you’re right. Amanda,” Beth said, “Harris just said something deep.”

  “He’ll do that on occasion to keep us on our toes.”

  Harris grinned. “It’s like seeing a cocker spaniel play the piano, isn’t it?” He looked at Beth. “So you burned out and started making shirts. Now you’re hoping to sell your line so you can start the horse rescue. Aha! Here’s my question!” He said this as though he were a lawyer in front of a jury. “If you marry Finn and you succeed rescuing horses, Betty White, won’t you run into the same my-time-is-more-valuable-than-your-time issue?”

  “No, because now I’m aware of my tendency to be a workaholic and save the day. Finn used to shrug it off and be understanding.”

  “Enabler!” Harris said.

  “Yeah. So when he finally had enough, I was shocked because he’d never seemed to mind before. He’d grumble, but he never told me how much it bothered him.”

  “So you also had some communication problems,” Amanda said. “Not unusual.”

  “Right again.”

  “Did you guys talk about getting back together?” Amanda asked.

  “In between all those orgasms?” Harris added.

  Beth punched his arm. “It was tough to talk, since we were always panting from all the sex. But . . . he told me he wanted to marry me. Flat out told me.”