Sweet Hearts

by Melissa Brayden

  Myra laughed. “You’d be sitting on your ass in the dust, more like it, if you tried. How about settling for a ride home in brooding silence instead? It’s safer.”

  “Deal,” said Ainslee.

  A break from conversation would do her good as well, Myra decided. She was worn out by the ups and downs they’d taken in a short hour of riding, and altogether too aroused by their brief moments of touch. She let Dragon’s rhythmic walk relax her muscles, but she couldn’t find a way to calm her mind and heart.

  Chapter Seven

  Ainslee felt sweat fusing her to the hard plastic seat on the MAX the day after her trail ride with Myra. She’d had to walk a quarter mile from her apartment to catch the train and she was dreading the two blocks from the station to her physical therapist’s office. The temperature was pushing ninety on a cloudless summer day, and the heat, combined with her sore muscles, made Ainslee cranky. She had refused to sit in one of the handicapped seats near the door, so she stood in line with a crowd of people who were disembarking at her stop and slowly filed through the door.

  She stood near the brick wall of a department store and considered her choices. Head north to the therapist’s office, or cross the street and rest in an air-conditioned café? She had already dropped out of three different PT programs. None had been failures—she’d seen improvements along the way, but she’d always found some reason to stop going. She didn’t get the point of endless sessions. No therapist would ever make her whole again.

  This therapist, however, was the link between her and Myra’s riding program. He had filled out an application for her and had encouraged her to try the lessons. He’d be certain to tell Myra if Ainslee went AWOL and didn’t make her appointment. The imagined look of disappointment on Myra’s face was enough to make Ainslee push away from the building and start walking north.

  Her thighs protested her accustomed way of walking with her prosthesis. She usually tried to keep tension in her hips, controlling the swing of her walk to make her limp as unobtrusive as possible, but yesterday’s trot on Deacon had turned her muscles to mush. She stepped out of the flow of people and rested near the curb. She thought about Myra’s words to her, and the way she had been pushing herself off balance by trying too hard to restrict movement. The memory of Myra’s hands on her leg and under her thigh made her uncomfortably aware of every sensation in her legs. The friction of denim and the warmth of the sun seemed to set her nerve endings on fire, but she tried to ignore her arousal and focus on the concept Myra had been teaching.

  Ainslee started walking again, but she stopped fighting her prosthesis and let her leg find a new, natural way of moving. Instead of trying to hide her limp and move like she used to before her surgery, she relaxed her hips and swung her leg forward. She wasn’t sure how she looked from a bystander’s point of view, but she felt some relief in her aching muscles. Once she was inside the office and on the treadmill warming up for her appointment, she kept the same loose stride.

  “What did you change?” Dr. Campbell asked, coming over to where Ainslee was exercising. “Your gait is better. Range of motion, smoothness. What are you doing differently?”

  Ainslee told him about her experience with Deacon’s trot and the way she’d incorporated the lesson into her walk. She was able to balance without the handrails while he increased her speed. “I feel more inside myself,” she said, struggling to find the right way to express what she was feeling. She’d never had to think about her body before. She’d walked, jogged, sparred, and made love without giving the processes much thought—her body had simply done what she wanted it to do. Not anymore. “I guess I was detached in a way, like I was moving the legs of a puppet.”

  “Perfectly normal,” Dr. Campbell said. “At first, the prosthesis is a foreign object. Something to be manipulated and controlled, not a part of you.”

  What if I don’t want it to be a part of me? Ainslee didn’t ask the question out loud. What was the point? She didn’t have any choice now.

  Dr. Campbell raised the incline on the treadmill and Ainslee had to work too hard at keeping her balance to let her thoughts dwell on her misfortune. Her respiration increased, and she reveled in the feeling of balance and strength even though she was nowhere near her former fitness level.

  “Riding is improving your core strength and your upper body control,” Dr. Campbell said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He’d never be unprofessional enough to say I told you so, but Ainslee had a feeling he was thinking about the conversation they had when he’d first brought up the possibility of lessons. Ainslee had been reluctant, and he had listed the benefits she’d likely experience. She’d been afraid of the idea—she had been afraid of almost everything at first—and she’d much rather have exercised on a safe treadmill than on an unpredictable horse. He was right about the physical aspects of riding, and she was seeing the results more clearly today than she had so far.

  When they moved to the parallel bars for a single-limb standing exercise, Ainslee could feel an even more pronounced improvement. She held one of the bars with her right hand while she balanced on her prosthesis and slowly lifted her sound foot onto a box in front of her. When she’d first had to perform this exercise, she had gripped the bars with both hands and had rushed to get her left foot on the solid box. Now, she repeated the movement several times while she told Dr. Campbell about the way she balanced on her right leg to mount Deacon.

  “I also had to keep my weight on my right leg when I climbed in the hay barn one day while I was waiting for my ride to pick me up,” she said, omitting the part about Myra kicking her out of the lesson. She took her hand off the parallel bar and stepped onto the box without any assistance. “The bales were stacked about twenty high and I got all the way to the top. It felt good to accomplish something tangible, even though it wasn’t a big deal. I’m sure the teenagers at the barn climb up and down those bales like monkeys.”

  “I’m proud of you, Ainslee,” he said. “I don’t care if the climb would be easy for anyone else. I know what it took for you to get to the top.”

  Ainslee smiled at his words. She was proud of herself, too, but it felt nice to hear from someone who understood her situation. She was accustomed to having him and her other doctors look at her with worried expressions, their concern for her clearly evident on their faces. She had felt a little guilty about her own lack of engagement in her healing process when everyone else—including Myra—seemed to care so much more than she did. Still, she had been too wrapped up in her own mind, where she needed to hide and heal. She hadn’t had any energy left over to reassure them.

  Today, though, she felt able to move past her own thoughts and pay attention to someone else’s. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was physically stronger or if it was due to the trail ride with Myra when she’d felt her world expand a little as they moved outside of the arena and in the woods. Dr. Campbell was obviously pleased with her riding experiences, and she felt good about making a doctor smile instead of frown with worry.

  By the time she finished her exercises and got back on the train, she felt as if every muscle in her body was going on strike. She sagged in her seat and watched the buildings rush by as the MAX took her back toward her apartment. She felt physically bruised, but she’d become even stronger because of the exertion. She only wished her emotional, fearful, angry parts could heal as quickly. Those parts of her still recognized how comparatively weak she was.

  She sighed and leaned her head against the window. She was grateful to Myra for helping her get some of her strength back. The exercises she did on Deacon during lessons were obviously making her stronger and more flexible, and Myra’s advice and astute observations had made Ainslee rethink how she walked and moved. Ainslee had to be very careful not to confuse her gratitude with real attraction, even though she didn’t seem to need the same distinction with her other doctors and therapists.

  Ainslee stretched her legs in front of her and kneaded a tight knot in her
thigh. She felt Myra’s hands on her again, as if the sensation had been burned into her mind. Ainslee had been poked and prodded by numerous people since her accident and surgery. She usually recoiled from their touch because it was symbolic of her weakness. But she craved Myra’s hands on her. When Myra had held her leg and helped her learn to balance in the saddle, Ainslee had felt safe and supported. But the burden was too much to place on anyone else. Ainslee needed to find a way to stand on her own.

  Still, harboring a small, secret dream of the future seemed healthy enough. Ainslee couldn’t fool herself forever—her interest in Myra wasn’t some sort of transference or misinterpreted gratitude. She would have felt the same attraction to her if they’d met before the accident. The only difference was that Ainslee wouldn’t have been afraid to act on her feelings when she was whole.

  Chapter Eight

  Myra paced around the outdoor arena, leaving uneven circles of footprints in the sand. She watched Jamie canter toward the next small post-and-rail fence on the course Myra had set for her. The jump was under two feet high, but Kate’s girlfriend Jamie made so many adjustments to Dragon’s stride, Myra would have thought she was riding a Grand Prix course. Myra’s relationship with Kate had always been smooth and easy. Even their minor disagreements were mere bumps in the road. But Jamie? She and Myra had been at odds since their first meeting, when investment banker Jamie had come to the barn to observe Kate’s riding and evaluate her as a potential client. Myra had risen to her friend’s defense against Jamie’s badgering, but they’d since formed a rocky friendship. Most of their head-butting was in fun, some of it wasn’t, and Myra couldn’t help but enjoy the challenge of knowing someone with Jamie’s strength and brilliance. Most of the time…

  “Relax your hands,” she called. “You’re pulling too hard on the reins.”

  Jamie slowed the big bay’s stride out of the corner, and then nudged him with her heels at the last minute. Dragon chipped at the fence by adding a short, choppy stride right before he popped stiffly over the jump.

  “Why won’t he take off when I ask him?” Jamie trotted to where Myra stood in the center of the ring. Her face was red from exertion under the brim of Kate’s black safety helmet, and she had her usual look of obsessed determination Myra knew all too well. “He keeps getting too close and practically hopping straight in the air to get over it.”

  Myra crossed her arms over her chest. When Jamie had first told her about the surprise horseback riding trip across Ireland she was planning for Kate and Anna, Myra had been excited to be in on the secret. As part of the surprise, Jamie wanted to learn how to jump well enough to manage the cross-country obstacles they’d encounter on the intermediate level ride. After three months of frustrating lessons, Myra was having serious second thoughts about her initial offer to help. And third and fourth thoughts.

  “He’s doing exactly what you’re asking,” she explained for the umpteenth time with what she hoped sounded like patience. “You’re making too many adjustments on the approach, so by the time you get to the fence he doesn’t have enough length of stride to take off from that long distance.”

  “Of course you’d take his side,” Jamie muttered. She unbuckled the helmet and pulled it off, running a hand through her damp red-blond hair. She gave an exasperated sigh and fanned herself with the hard hat. “Horse people.”

  Myra bent at the waist and put her hands on her knees, stretching her lower back while she searched for a way to phrase her instructions so Jamie would understand. She’d rushed through rides on three horses just so she’d be able to teach Jamie while Kate hauled a horse to the vet for X-rays. She wanted to tell Jamie to give up. Plan a cruise vacation instead and never ride again.

  “You turn everything into a competition,” she said. She straightened up and stuck her hands in her pockets. Anything to keep from throttling her best friend’s girlfriend.

  Myra put a hand on her belly and realized she felt the same tension as when she was talking to Ainslee. Another woman who challenged her well-being and made her feel the urge to stretch and grow. But Ainslee’s presence brought up other urges than Jamie’s did. Myra wanted to punch Jamie sometimes, but Ainslee? She’d prefer to kiss her. All the time. She curbed her sudden desire—as strong as if Ainslee was standing right next to her—and concentrated on teaching. “You seem to believe we’re all out to get you. Dragon and I are in cahoots—he’s trying to mess up the jumps on purpose. You’re learning a new hobby, not marching off to battle.”

  “Do you know me at all?” Jamie asked. She jammed the helmet on her head so it sat low over her brow. “When I want to do something, I attack it. I’m not going to be one of your flower-child students, cantering around in a Zen-like state and communing with nature. Be the jump. Lift your heart over the fence with butterfly wings.”

  Myra had to laugh. “Where the hell did you come up with that?”

  “Some book Anna’s reading. She keeps reciting passages about breathing with the horse and forming a beautiful partnership. I’m paraphrasing.”

  “Yeah, I assumed as much.” Myra was still laughing at the picture in her mind of Jamie galloping bareback along a beach, like a scene in a movie, with her eyes closed and her arms spread wide.

  “My point, Myra, is that you need to teach me how to ride. I’m not going to change who I am just because I’m sitting in a saddle and not a boardroom chair.”

  Myra shook her head. Again, Ainslee was filling her mind. Don’t expect me to heal more quickly than I can. “And the student teaches the teacher,” she said. “Okay. You’re in a competition here, but you’re not seeing the real adversary. You’re trying to conquer and control the horse instead of focusing on the actual enemy. The jump.”

  Jamie looked at the tiny obstacle with a skeptical expression. “Hardly a worthy adversary.”

  “Please. It’s been tripping you up for an hour. Humiliating you. Do you know how funny you looked the time you landed halfway up Dragon’s neck? I thought I was going to pee, I was laughing so hard.”

  “Your point?” Jamie asked, frowning.

  “My point is that Dragon and I are your partners. Like your assistant Jenn and your research department. We’re gathering information for you, to help you overcome your foe. You trust Jenn when she gives you advice, don’t you? Or do you try to control what she says? You need to trust Dragon the same way. He’s more experienced and knowledgeable than you are right now, but he can’t help you beat that damned pile of poles unless you stop micromanaging and let him do his job.”

  “That was a painful metaphor, but it makes more sense than most of your other advice,” Jamie said with a wicked grin as she quickly moved Dragon before Myra could sock her in the leg. She urged the horse into a canter and aimed toward the jump again. She couldn’t seem to completely stop picking at the reins and changing Dragon’s stride, but she fussed with him less and the jump was smoother because of it.

  Myra whooped and clapped. “Better!” she called as Jamie circled around her. “Try again, and this time make sure you have the pace you want before you turn the corner. Once you do, don’t make any more changes before the jump.”

  Fifteen minutes—and at least as many jumps—later, Myra finally felt confident that Jamie had internalized the lesson. “Let him walk and cool out,” she said, falling into step beside the pair. Jamie let her reins slide through her fingers and Dragon stretched his neck toward Myra. She rubbed his nose. She felt the quiet elation she experienced after particularly good lessons, when she was able to communicate more clearly and her students achieved breakthroughs, no matter how small.

  “Good job,” she said to Dragon. She patted Jamie’s knee. “You, too.”

  “Thanks, Teach,” Jamie said, tugging off one of her black riding gloves. “I’m not saying I achieved nirvana out there, but I think I got a taste of the whole partnership-with-the-horse thing.”

  “Careful,” Myra said, peering around as if looking for eavesdroppers. “If anyone hears you, they mi
ght think you’re getting soft. Even downright cuddly.”

  Jamie playfully slapped the top of Myra’s head with her glove. “If you repeat anything I said today, I’ll have to make you disappear.”

  Myra held up one hand. “I swear I won’t. Except maybe the part about butterfly wings.”

  “You’d be wise to take my threats more seriously,” Jamie said. “I’m sure Kate would miss you.”

  Myra laughed and draped her arm over Dragon’s neck. They walked in silence halfway around the ring before Jamie spoke again, in a more serious tone this time. “How are you doing with your soldier therapy program?”

  “They’re doing well,” Myra said. With only one lesson left in the initial eight-week session, Myra felt confident in her statement. Blake seemed more open, and Drew was already moving better on the ground because of the stretching and strengthening work he was doing in the saddle. And Ainslee? She’d improved physically, at least while on the horse. During last week’s lesson, she’d trotted around the arena several times without noticeable tension or fatigue. She showed flashes of humor and the briefest of smiles. Had she really made definite progress, either physically or emotionally? Myra couldn’t determine the answer, although she spent long hours trying to decide whether she thought Ainslee was getting healthier in the ways that mattered. She wanted to know for certain, since not only Ainslee’s future happiness, but possibly also her own were at stake.

  “Of course your students are doing well. You’re a great teacher,” Jamie said, waving her hand dismissively. “What I’m asking is how you are. I never met Jeffrey, but Kate’s told me a lot about him. He sounds like he was a really special guy, and I’m betting you’ve been dealing with some difficult memories over the past seven weeks. I can’t claim to know exactly how you feel, but I do have some experience in living with regrets and guilt.”