Amounting to Nothing

by Karis Walsh

  Merissa came over to her and gently pried the halter Billie had been holding out of her tight grip. She brushed her fingertips over Billie’s face, tracing her cheekbone and jawline.

  “You look exhausted,” she said. “I don’t want you to wear yourself out worrying about me.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired,” Billie said. She was barely able to string words into sentences, but she needed to explain what had happened. “When I was coming back from the upper barn, I heard a noise coming from the arena. I opened the door to investigate, and Agincourt ran out.”

  Merissa shook her head. “Were you having one of your nightmares before you went outside? Is that why you panicked when you saw Jean-Yves?”

  “I didn’t panic,” Billie said with a flash of indignation, although she had been rash in both instances. She should have recognized Jean-Yves sooner. And she should have realized the noises she heard in the arena were equine and not human. “I just want to keep you safe. I need to keep you safe.”

  “I know. But you have to take care of yourself as well and not let your nightmares and your memories make you see danger where there’s none.”

  Billie sighed and leaned into Merissa’s touch. The sound of swishing tails and horses shifting in their stalls and the woody scent of clean shavings were familiar and comforting as she became more aware of her surroundings. Merissa’s hand was familiar, too, even after such a short time knowing her. Coursing with life and roughened by work and riding, Merissa’s palm cradled Billie’s head and gave her strength. Merissa was right. Billie usually needed time to recover after her dreams, slowly disentangling the past from the present. Most days, the pull backward in time was strong, but now her need to protect Merissa was even stronger. Billie had been catapulted to the present, but she hadn’t been able to separate the fear and danger she felt in her nightmares from her perception of what was happening in real life.

  Merissa rubbed her hands briskly over Billie’s arms. “Let’s get upstairs where it’s warm,” she said, taking Billie’s hand and pulling her toward the staircase. She paused on the landing and kicked off her muddy boots before leading Billie into the bedroom, bypassing the sofa bed. Billie put her gun on the dresser across the room and dropped onto the bed. Merissa took off her robe and scooted against Billie’s back, wrapping her arms around Billie’s waist and pulling her close.

  Billie moved away just long enough to peel off her sweats and T-shirt. She slid back into Merissa’s embrace, reveling in the whisper of satin and bare skin against her back and legs. Exhaustion battled arousal, but Billie knew both sleep and sex were the easy ways to end the night. Instead of opting for either one, she began to talk instead.

  “The nightmares are usually about the day my best friend Mike died,” she said. She felt Merissa’s arms tighten around her, and she was certain Merissa understood what it meant for Billie to talk about this. She’d never told anyone else, not even Beth or her therapists. “Dream-versions of the day, with weird elements added in. Different every time. But some parts are real and the same each time. The layer of grit on my teeth from dust and sand, the smell of cheap cigarette smoke, the explosion, the pain. We were in an alley after a mission, heading back to the landing zone where a chopper was supposed to pick us up…”

  Billie talked in fits and starts, pushing herself to get the words out. Merissa held her and stroked her hair as she struggled to give voice to gruesome sights and sounds and sensations she would never be able to forget. She’d always thought that talking about what happened that day would make it worse—more real, if that was even possible—but she felt her body relax as she spoke. Not with the adrenaline-drop exhaustion she was accustomed to feeling after a bad night, but with a soft slide toward sleep. She got to the end of her story, and instead of despair and hurt she felt only a sense of being emptied out.

  Merissa kissed her temple when Billie fell silent. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Both for telling me, and for trying to save me tonight.”

  “I will always try to save you,” Billie said, barely floating through consciousness on her way to a hopefully dreamless sleep. “And thank you for listening to me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Billie woke with the sun, tangled in the sheets and with Merissa. She’d only had a few hours of sleep after her nighttime recon adventures and she’d worn herself out talking to Merissa about her past, but she felt more refreshed than she had in ages. She was awake and present, not ragged from being torn out of her nightmares.

  Merissa stirred against her, sending shivers of pleasure through Billie’s body. She wanted to wake Merissa with more than the chaste kiss she gave her, but the day was going to be a full one, and they had polo ponies to groom and haul to the match. Billie kissed Merissa again, and then burrowed her face into the space where Merissa’s neck and shoulder met as she felt her stretch and sigh.

  “Mmm. Good morning,” Merissa said. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair spilling onto Billie’s chest, and smiled at her. “How did you sleep?”

  “Great,” Billie said with a smile. “Better than I have for a long time.”

  “I’m glad.” Merissa leaned over and kissed her quickly on the mouth. “I’d love to stay in bed all day with you, but we have a long list of things to do this morning.”

  Billie got out of bed, relieved Merissa hadn’t mentioned much about last night. She had found it difficult enough to talk about such intensely personal feelings in the dark, without actually looking at Merissa. She wasn’t ready to face her confessions in the light of day. She pulled on a pair of old jeans and layered a sweatshirt and light jacket over a T-shirt. The day would be a chilly one, but she’d be working hard enough to need to shed some clothing later on. She turned around and watched a topless Merissa shimmy into a pair of skintight white breeches. Maybe Cal wouldn’t mind if Merissa showed up for the match a little late. Billie was about to toss Merissa back onto the bed and kiss her gorgeous breasts, but Merissa caught her staring and hurriedly put on a sports bra and collared shirt.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, as if reading Billie’s mind.

  “Don’t dare what?” Billie asked innocently as she walked over and caught Merissa behind the knees, flipping her gently onto the bed and stretching out on top of her.

  “Don’t you dare make us late,” Merissa said, but she giggled as Billie covered her neck with a series of playful, nipping kisses and wrapped her fingers in Billie’s hair.

  Billie let herself enjoy the feel of Merissa squirming underneath her for a few more moments, and then she got to her feet and pulled Merissa along with her. She caught her in a tight hug, saying thank you the best way she could right now.

  “Go feed your horses,” she said. “I’ll make us some coffee, and then I’ll come down and load the van.”

  Merissa left the apartment door open when she left, and Billie heard the horses neighing for their breakfast while she made a pot of coffee. She tossed a few granola bars in a bag and poured the brewed coffee into a thermos. The horses would eat better than she and Merissa would this morning.

  The next two hours were spent grooming horses and braiding their manes and tails, polishing Merissa’s tack, and stuffing everything they might need during the day into several large navy blue trunks with Merissa’s initials in white block letters. Billie worked alongside Jean-Yves, and she was surprised to find the day untainted by the events of last night. Usually the residue of nightmares colored her waking hours, but today she didn’t feel any lingering doubts about Jean-Yves or fear another intruder was lurking in the shadows. She wouldn’t let her guard down and risk Merissa’s safety, but the unwarranted and uncontrollable anxiety she had been feeling when she was outside in the dark had faded.

  Once they had four horses and as many trunks and saddles loaded onto the van, Jean-Yves caught her arm and pulled her aside. “Protect her,” he said.

  “With my life,” Billie promised, meaning it without hesitation. He nodded and let her go, and she got in the
driver’s seat of the van. Merissa got in beside her and poured each of them a cup of coffee as soon as Billie navigated the winding driveway and they were on the main road.

  Billie followed Merissa’s directions south on I-5 and west on Highway 101. They exited and drove through some lush forested areas, dense with fir trees and ferns, before the huge farm where the polo matches would be held opened up in front of them. The grounds were already bustling with people leading, riding, and trailering horses, and Billie slowly drove to the edge of the parking lot where they’d have room to unload the horses and equipment. She and Merissa had just lowered the ramp when Cal came over to greet them.

  “Thanks for filling in today, Merissa,” she said, peering around her and into the trailer. “It’s nice to see you both. Oh, wow. She’s even more beautiful than I expected.”

  “I have a feeling she only asked me here today because she wanted to see my horse,” Merissa said to Billie with an exaggerated sigh. “I feel used.”

  “Nonsense,” Cal said as she walked up the ramp to see the mare. “You’ll be a valuable member of our team. Oh, did I forget to mention that we’re all supposed to trade horses every chukker? I guess I’ll have to ride one of yours…maybe this black one.”

  “Not a chance,” Billie said as she moved past Cal and untied Mariposa’s lead rope. “I’m bodyguard for both of them today.”

  Merissa followed her with a gray mare, and Billie looked over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Cal visibly sigh as she unhooked Agincourt and brought him down the ramp. Cal’s two grooms came with them on the second and third trips as they unloaded horses and tack and stowed everything in the temporary stabling.

  “Great timing, Sarge,” Billie said when Rachel finally appeared in the stall where she was grooming Mariposa. “We just got all the heavy trunks unloaded.”

  Rachel grinned without a shred of guilt. “I know. I was watching from around the corner in case you tried to rope me into helping.”

  “We’ll let you do all the loading when we’re done, then.” Billie ran a soft finishing cloth over the mare’s black coat and brought out even more shine than she’d had before.

  Rachel stepped inside and ran her hand over the horse’s neck. “This is the one Cal wants, isn’t she? I have a feeling she’ll be planning a trip to Argentina soon, even though she has so many horses we’re about to run out of stalls.”

  Rachel couldn’t hide her fond smile as she spoke, and Billie knew she’d relent even if Cal wanted to buy the entire country’s supply of polo ponies. “And you’ll go along as what, her conscience? Translator? Girlfriend who lies on the beach?”

  “All three, possibly.” Rachel stooped down and felt the joints and tendons in the mare’s front leg. “Or maybe I’ll buy one like her for myself. Can you picture me in dress uniform, riding a horse like this in parades and at state functions? I’d be irresistible.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be the next cover model for Mounted Police Weekly .” Billie dropped a protective boot on the ground by Rachel’s feet. “Make yourself useful while you’re down there and put this on her.”

  Rachel strapped the leather snugly over the mare’s delicate cannon bone, and then she stood up. “I walked through the parking lots and the other barns,” she said, switching from her joking self to her police sergeant persona without skipping a beat. “I didn’t see anything suspicious, but there are so many people here, it’s hard to tell who belongs and who doesn’t. Stay as close to Merissa as you can today. Cal’s grooms will help you with her horses, and I’ll keep an eye on her if you need to leave the field and bring one back here to the barn.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Merissa called from the stall next door. The walls were made of thin canvas and didn’t seem to be soundproof. “I’m not a child.”

  “I’m not your babysitter,” Billie said. “I’m your bodyguard, like you’re a movie star.”

  “She’s your groom,” Rachel countered. “Who will just happen to be everywhere you are.”

  “Much better,” Merissa said, appearing in the doorway with Agincourt’s reins in her hand. “Hey, groom, I’m going to the practice arena now. Mind giving me a leg up?”

  Billie rolled her eyes and she and Rachel left Mariposa’s stall. “Sure thing, boss . Wouldn’t want you to strain a precious muscle by getting on the horse by yourself.”

  Merissa just smiled sweetly at her and bent her knee. Billie took hold of it and gave her a firm lift off the ground, nearly catapulting her across Aggie’s back and off the other side. Merissa grabbed his neck and righted herself, laughing and kicking playfully at Billie. “Fine. I’ll call you bodyguard from now on.”

  “Thank you,” Billie said, pulling a rag out of her back pocket and dusting Merissa’s tall brown boots. “All I want is a little respect.”

  Cal came over to the group leading her first mount, and Rachel lifted her smoothly into the saddle. The two of them followed the riders as they walked toward the arena, and Billie couldn’t keep her eyes off Merissa’s seat. She swayed gently in the saddle, keeping time with Agincourt’s swinging stride.

  “Ah, polo,” Rachel said, as if she could read Billie’s mind. “The ultimate spectator sport.”

  Billie couldn’t agree more. She leaned her elbows on a fence rail and watched Merissa ride the dark chestnut gelding around the practice ring. She moved fluidly through the crowds of other riders, handling her horse with a nearly invisible touch that only years of hard work and practice combined with natural skill could produce. She was as elegant and graceful in the saddle as she was out of it, and Billie had to remind herself to stop staring at her every once in a while, and scan the other onlookers. There were several teams riding during the day, and each one had brought a number of grooms and supporters, but Billie gradually was able to sort them out in her mind. Everyone seemed to belong, and she hoped the day would prove to be uneventful except for the excitement of the matches.

  Rachel had set some folding chairs and a cooler full of drinks and snacks in the shade of an oak tree, and Billie joined her there after giving Merissa some bottled water and a good luck pat on the leg—not that Merissa looked like she needed any luck. Her skills and determination would surely make her the star of the match. Billie uncapped her own water and leaned back in the chair, lifting the collar of her jacket to keep her neck warm. She hadn’t noticed the chill in the air when she was working with the horses, but once she was sitting still it was pronounced. Still, a little sunshine streamed around the clouds, and no rain was forecast to make the polo fields miserable and slick.

  After a few minutes of the first chukker, Billie forgot about her water and about the cold day. She sat forward with her elbows on her knees and watched Merissa transform on the polo field. Not in a good way. Granted, the team was new to her, but she was an experienced player and should be quick to adapt. Instead, she seemed to play outside the team. She wasn’t hogging the ball and trying to make all the spectacular plays by herself, but she also wasn’t helping the other players when they had control of the ball. She tended to stay out of their way and she seemed surprised when one of them tried to assist her when she was moving down the field toward the goal. Except for the times when Cal called out instructions to her, she seemed to be playing individual polo instead of a team sport.

  “You should get her second horse now,” Rachel suggested. “I’ll take guard duty while you’re gone.”

  Rachel was frowning as she watched the match, and Billie was sure the same expression was on her own face. She jogged across the pasture and quickly put Mariposa’s saddle and bridle on her. She ran back to the field with the mare easily trotting alongside her. Maybe Agincourt’s youth and inexperience were keeping Merissa from playing more aggressively as part of a team. Mariposa was bred and trained to be the ultimate polo mount, and Billie was sure Merissa would come to life while riding her.

  “He was a good boy,” Merissa said with a smile as she handed Agincourt’s reins to Billie.

  Bi
llie held him with one hand while she gave Merissa a boost onto the mare—more gently this time—with the other. Merissa didn’t seem to think there had been anything wrong with her performance in the chukker, and she looked stunning enough for people to stop and gape at her when she rode in the practice arena on Mariposa, so Billie pushed her confusion away and concentrated on getting Aggie untacked and back in his stall and herself back to the arena. She dropped into the folding chair with a tired sigh, but forgot about how hard being a groom really was once she saw Merissa change into a stiffer, less beautiful rider once she was back in the game.

  Billie wondered why Merissa’s connection and comfort disappeared when she rode the few yards from the practice ring to the performance one, but she kept silent on the subject until she and Merissa were alone in a corner of the field with Aggie during the break after the third period of play.

  “You’ve been quiet today,” Merissa said. “Are you still worried something might happen while we’re here?”

  Billie shrugged. “It seems safe enough, but we can’t get complacent. I guess I’m just confused about something.”

  “What is it?” Merissa asked, pulling off her helmet and fluffing out her sweaty blond hair.

  Billie tamped down her desire to help by running her fingers through those silky locks. “You seem to change when you ride onto the field.” She hesitated. “Remember when you rode Ranger at our practice session? You were trying to be the leader and have him be the horse, instead of working as a team. You do the same thing with the other riders.”

  “What are you saying? That I’m bossing them around?”

  “No, not at all.” Billie frowned at the angry tone in Merissa’s voice. “I just think you’re used to being independent. In everything you do, whether it’s on the polo field or at work or in your personal life. You don’t seem to trust anyone else on the field, whether it’s your horse or your teammates. You look like you’re on a third team of one during the game.”