by Janet Dailey
“I know.” She faced him, with moonlight sculpting her features as she pulled herself together. “But that isn’t why I brought you here.”
“I had a feeling it wasn’t,” he said. “I’m listening.”
“When Dusty brought you here, I was afraid you’d be nothing but trouble. But that’s changed. Now I’m asking you to stay. Not for me, but for Paige.”
“Kira—”
“No. Hear me out. I know you’re planning to leave. But that little girl needs her father. If you don’t care enough to be part of her life, she’ll feel that loss forever. It will affect her self-esteem, her trust, her future relationships with men. . . .”
“Stop it, Kira. You know I can’t stay, and you know why.”
“I know you think you can’t get well. But look around you—the beauty, the peace of places like this. Flying Cloud Ranch is your best chance to heal, maybe your only chance. You owe it to your daughter to try.”
“And what if it doesn’t work?” Jake thrust his hands into his pockets to keep them still. “You don’t know how bad this thing can get. You’ve barely seen the tip of the iceberg. The foul words that come screaming out of my mouth, the things I throw and hit and break—I’ve punched my way through doors, through walls, even through people. That’s how I landed in jail. Do you think I want Paige to see me like that?”
“Of course not. But if you’re not ready to stay, maybe you could try the VA again. Spend some time. Let them work with you. Then you could come back here. You’d always be welcome.”
Jake shook his head. “The VA was a dead end for me. Counseling was a waste of time, and medication only made me dopey. The best I can do on my own is try to keep the bad spells under control. Most of the time, I manage. But sometimes I can’t help it. Something triggers me and all hell breaks loose. I’ve got an engineering degree, but I can’t hold down any kind of decent job, let alone be a decent father.”
When she didn’t reply, he walked to the edge of the pool and stood for a moment, listening to the splash of the waterfall and the drone of frog calls. “You’ve worked with vets. You’ve heard about the hell over there and what it did to some of us. The real thing was a hundred times worse than what you read about or saw on TV. But I was able to handle it as long as I knew Wendy was waiting for me back home. Hearing her voice, seeing her face when we managed to Skype—she kept me grounded. If she’d been there through that last deployment, I think I might have been all right. But without her, there was nothing to keep the nightmares out.”
“I’m sorry.” Kira’s whisper was laced with anguish.
“The accident wasn’t your fault. But it happened, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be right again.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jake knew he’d said the wrong thing. But the damage was done. A moment of tense silence passed before she spoke. “We should go. Dusty will be needing our help.”
Jake followed her as she led the way back to the horses. Saying little, they mounted and rode single file up the trail.
Sensitivity had never been one of his strong points, but he’d just hit a new low. After enjoying that tender, passionate kiss, he had pretty much slapped her in the face.
Should he apologize, or would that only make things worse?
Never mind. He felt like a jerk, but what was done was done. He had just added one more item to his list of reasons to leave here.
* * *
As they rode under the ranch gate, Kira forced the past hour’s happenings into one of her mental boxes and locked it tight. She’d battled tears most of the way up the trail. But it was time to forget how Jake’s kiss had stirred her. Time to put aside what she’d felt when he’d told her how he’d depended on Wendy’s support to give him hope—and how he’d fallen over the edge after he’d lost her.
Jake was still in love with his beautiful wife. She should have reminded herself of that when he took her in his arms. Instead she’d responded to him—and left herself open to humiliation. There was more to Wendy than Jake knew. But she would never tell him. Why cause more pain when he’d already suffered so much?
“You can go on up to the house,” he said as they neared the stable. “I’ll put the horses away.”
“Thanks.” Kira dismounted, making an effort to act as if nothing had changed between them. “I’m sure Dusty could use a hand with the students. We’ll be doing more groundwork in the morning. I’ll see you then.”
“One request,” he said. “Your students have picked their horses. Is it okay if I choose this old boy for mine?” He patted Dynamite’s shoulder. “He’s no Derby winner, but he’s growing on me.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said. “Dynamite’s a great horse.”
“And can I take him out for practice whenever I get time?”
“Sure. He’s yours for the duration—or even for keeps if you change your mind about sticking around.”
“Let’s table that,” Jake said. “I’ve got a loan to repay and a bike to fix. I won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
“Fine. Turn off the light and bolt the stable door when you’re finished with the horses.” Emotions wearing thin, Kira strode off toward the house. Jake had put her through the wringer tonight. Maybe in the morning, she’d feel calm enough to deal with him. But tonight she couldn’t get away fast enough.
As she neared the front porch, she saw Paige sitting on the top step with her arm around the dog. Concerned, she hurried toward the little girl.
“What are you doing out here alone, Paige? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” Paige said, sounding very grown-up. “And I’m not alone. Tucker’s here with me.”
“Why aren’t you watching the movie?”
“I’ve seen that old movie about a hundred times. Seabiscuit always wins.” She scratched the dog behind the ears. “Where did you go with Mister Jake?”
“Just down the canyon. He’s learning to ride a horse.”
“Doesn’t he already know how?”
“He wasn’t around horses before he came here. That’s why I let him ride Dynamite.”
“I bet I could ride Dynamite, too, if I had longer legs.”
“You can ride when you’re older. I know you’ll be good at it. You already know a lot about horses.”
Paige twirled a lock of hair around her finger, suddenly pensive. “I thought Mister Jake was my friend. Why doesn’t he like me anymore?”
Kira sighed. She should’ve known this conversation would come up. “How could anybody not like a nice girl like you? Mister Jake likes you fine.”
“No, he doesn’t. Today when I brought him a cookie and some root beer, he told me to go away. He said it wasn’t good for me to be with a bum like him. I told him ‘bum’ was a bad word. Then Tucker ate the cookie, and Mister Jake made me go. It made me feel bad.”
“Oh, honey.” Kira slipped an arm around the small shoulders. Sometimes the only safe answer was the truth—or part of the truth, at least.
“There’s something you need to understand about Mister Jake,” she said. “He was in a war.”
“Like my daddy.” It wasn’t a question.
Kira’s breath caught. “Yes . . . like your daddy. And some really bad things happened to him over there—things that made him scared and angry and sad.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things like bombs blowing up, seeing people die and having his friends get shot. Mister Jake remembers all those things. Sometimes he remembers too much. When that happens, he can get upset.” Kira took a breath. Explaining post-traumatic stress disorder to an innocent child had to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
“Upset how?”
Kira sighed. “He can get really mad, or really unhappy, or he can even feel like he’s still in the war and has to fight. That’s why he doesn’t want you with him. He’s afraid he might scare you, or say bad words you shouldn’t hear.”
“But I wouldn’t be scared.
I would know it was because of the war.”
“Maybe. But he’s afraid to take that chance. So you’re to leave Mister Jake alone, because that’s what he wants. Understand?”
Her small hand lay still on the dog’s head. Tears glimmered in her eyes. Slowly she nodded. “But he still likes me, doesn’t he?”
Kira gave her a squeeze. “He likes you very much. But promise me you won’t bother him anymore. Okay?”
She hesitated. “Okay. But can I say a prayer for him? Maybe that will help him get better.”
“That would be the very nicest thing you could do.” Standing, Kira took the small hand in hers. “Let’s go on inside. It’s past your bedtime.”
As she followed Jake’s daughter into the house, Kira couldn’t help wondering whether she’d said too much. Paige was a bright little girl who’d spent her life surrounded by adults. She was mature beyond her years. Still, understanding something as complex as Jake’s condition was a lot to ask of a child.
Or maybe not. In her wise young way, Paige had taken what she’d been told and made her own truth of it.
The war had hurt Jake. She would say a prayer for him.
* * *
In the stable, Jake finished toweling Kira’s mare, closed the gate and walked down the row of stalls to the gentle chestnut that had carried him down the canyon and back. He’d already removed the saddle and bridle and replaced them in the tack room, and the horses had been fed before dinner. But he wanted to reward Dynamite with some extra attention.
He’d learned about grooming along with Kira’s students. Now, with a currycomb, a brush and a towel, he stepped into Dynamite’s stall and began.
None of the horses in the stable wanted for care. But because Dynamite was an extra, he hadn’t received a daily grooming like the students’ horses. A shudder of pleasure passed through the old gelding’s body as Jake combed the loose hair from his coat. He snorted and shook his hide in clear enjoyment. As Jake followed with a soft brushing, he began to talk to the horse.
“So you like that, do you, old boy? Well, you’ve earned some special treatment. Any horse that’ll let me on its back without a fuss is one classy animal.. . . Say, maybe we can get to be friends, if you don’t mind a man who gets crazy sometimes. Could you handle that? I’ll bet maybe you could. . . .”
Jake rambled on, letting the words flow as he brushed the horse. The stable was quiet, the air fragrant with hay and horses and fresh manure. The only sounds were peaceful sounds—horses moving in their stalls, breathing, munching. The stillness and the warm, earthy aroma gave him an unaccustomed sense of safety. As he worked, he found himself talking about things he’d kept to himself—not about the war, but about the loneliness and frustration of not being able to let go and just live life. Talking to a blasted horse that was listening like he could understand every word.
This was crazy, he thought. But somehow it felt all right.
Jake finished grooming the horse and walked outside, closing the stable behind him. The lights were on in the house. He knew he’d be welcome to join the students for post-movie donuts and Kira’s briefing about the next day’s activities. But right now, it felt good to be alone and enjoy a rare few moments of peace.
The full moon had crested the sky, flooding the hills with light. Jake found himself walking under the gate, back down the trail where he and Kira had ridden earlier. He stopped at the flat rock with a view of the valley and took a seat. The sky was clear, the breeze cool. Still wearing their crowns of white blossoms, the saguaros stood like silver sentinels in the moonlight. A gray fox paused in a pool of light, then vanished into shadow.
Why not stay here? an inner voice whispered. Where else would he have a better chance of healing his tormented soul? Where else could he be a father to the little girl who meant more to him than anything in the world?
He was needed and welcomed here. He had meaningful work, friends, a decent place to live. And there was Kira, whose brusque manner hid a woman’s tender passions—passions barely glimpsed, barely tasted.
He could love her if he let it happen. Maybe, in a way, he already had.
His thoughts went back to the kiss they’d shared and then to how he’d spoiled the moment by talking about Wendy. Why couldn’t he have left well enough alone?
As his thoughts changed, Jake could feel the darkness closing around him. Once more, he went over what Kira had told him about the events leading up to Wendy’s accident—how Wendy had called her from the party across town because her friends were drinking and wanted to stay.
Strange, he thought, remembering. Kira had mentioned that Wendy was sober and wanted to go home. But the Wendy he remembered had loved a good party. More often than not, she would be among the last to leave. And she’d enjoyed drinking. Not that she was an alcoholic. He’d never seen her sloppy drunk. She’d always had her drinking under control. In fact, when she was pregnant with Paige, she’d stopped drinking altogether because it was bad for the baby.
Bad for the baby.
Something shifted in Jake’s mind—like the drop of a coin or the click of a switch. He stared into the night, his hands clenching into fists as he grappled with the truth.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Let me see your arms, Lanie.” Kira kept her tone friendly and informal, masking her concern. Nine days had passed since this group of students had arrived at the ranch. Lanie had been among the first to be interviewed. At the time, the razor slashes on her arms had been scabbed and raw. Now, as the petite, dark-eyed girl rolled up her sleeves, Kira saw that the cuts were mostly healed.
“Good for you. How about your legs? Sorry, you know the drill.” Kira had cleared this inspection with the girl’s parents.
Lanie stood and dropped her jeans below her knees. No new cuts on her thighs, either. “I’m not cutting myself here at the ranch,” she said. “I only feel like doing it at home.”
“Why’s that, do you think?” Kira asked, although she knew at least part of the answer.
“My mom and dad aren’t here.” Lanie pulled up her jeans and fastened them. “When I’m home, they fight all the time. It makes me feel awful. That’s why I cut myself.”
“How does that make you feel, cutting yourself? Doesn’t it hurt?”
Lanie twisted the hem of her shirt. “Well, sure. But it takes my mind off the fighting. And when they catch me at it, they, like, freak out, and I say, ‘Well, if you wouldn’t fight, I wouldn’t cut.’ ”
“Does it help?”
The girl shrugged. “Maybe, for about ten minutes.”
“So you can’t really control your parents.”
“I guess not. But I can make them feel bad.”
“You can punish them by cutting yourself. Does that make you feel better?”
“I guess.”
“You punish them by hurting yourself. How smart is that? Think about it.”
Lanie sighed, nodded and changed the subject. “How soon do we get to ride our horses?”
“When everybody’s acquired the skills they need. Maybe by the weekend, if all goes well. Meanwhile, all of you need more practice saddling and bridling. And there’s no such thing as too much groundwork. Run along now. I’ll meet you at the stable in forty-five minutes.”
Kira accompanied the girl to the front porch and watched as she crossed the yard to her cabin. Lanie was gaining confidence here, working well with the horses, and getting along with the other students. The challenge would come when it was time for her to return home. Kira had recommended marriage counseling for the parents, to be followed by family sessions for the three of them. But there was no guarantee that her suggestions would be carried out. Lanie could return to a home environment as toxic as the one she’d left. Kira could only hope that the horse therapy would build the girl’s self-reliance enough to deal with her parents and move forward on her own.
From the direction of the stable, the sound of hammer blows rang on the sunlit air. Jake had finished organizing the contents of th
e shed and started on the stable roof, replacing the worn and missing cedar shingles. That job, and the ongoing need for his help with the horses, had left him with little free time for the motorcycle. But he’d cleared out a sheltered area in the shed where he could work on the machine. Kira was also aware that he’d spent some late nights searching online for sales of vintage parts.
They’d had few private words in the two days since the night of their canyon ride. Even on the outing to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, he’d barely spoken to her. It was as if Jake had closed a door between them. He seemed more determined than ever to repay his debt to Dusty, get the bike operational and then leave. But there was more than that to his behavior. It didn’t take a therapist to see that something was seriously wrong. Jake was sullen and withdrawn. He looked as if he’d barely slept. Kira recognized the warning signs of a meltdown.
Now, as he pounded the nails into the shingles, she could sense the pent-up anger in each blow, as if he were beating on some invisible enemy—most likely his own inner demons. She could imagine his pain. She could almost feel it.
In her practice, she’d learned to distance herself from her patients and their emotional issues. But Jake wasn’t a patient. His trouble was personal—maybe too personal.
This man was the father of the little girl she loved like her own child—a man who’d held her in his arms and kissed her until she burned with womanly hungers. But he was also a broken man—a man still in love with the memory of his dazzling wife. She couldn’t let any feelings for him cloud her judgment. She had to step back and look at him with her clinical eyes.
The reality was, Jake needed intervention before he spiraled out of control. He wouldn’t welcome her meddling. But she had every reason to step in. There was the welfare of her students to consider. She was responsible for their well-being. That meant not only keeping them physically safe but also shielding them from upsetting situations. And Paige was the most vulnerable of all. Kira would do anything to protect her.
Even more urgent was the danger to Jake himself. Suicide was all too frequent among war vets. If he were pushed to the breaking point, anything could happen.