Between You and Me

by Susan Wiggs

  He smiled. “I need to borrow your car.”

  “I’ve never been up this way,” Reese said as Caleb exited the state road onto a country byway. Philadelphia was forty miles behind them. The sun was setting, and a blanket of glorious color spread in layers across the sky, outlining the broken silhouettes and gentle curves of the hills all around them. She had not one moment of regret about pushing off her studies until later tonight. If she needed to pull an all-nighter, so be it. She was an old hand at all-nighters.

  “It’s beautiful here,” she told him.

  He slowed down and turned at a grand river stone and wrought-iron gate. “Welcome to Grantham Farm.”

  She read the plaque affixed to the stone wall. “Home of the Budweiser Clydesdales. Established 1927. Oh my God. When you said you worked with draft horses, I didn’t realize you meant those horses. This is so cool.”

  He pressed a code on a keypad by the wall, and the large iron gate slowly swung inward.

  “Security cameras everywhere,” she said, noting a couple of them mounted on poles around the entrance.

  “The folks here are protective of the horses. Some of the best stock are worth a pile of money.”

  “I imagine so. But if I was going to steal something for the money, it probably wouldn’t be a two-thousand-pound horse.”

  “Three,” he said, his mouth curved into a smile.

  “Three thousand pounds?”

  “An adult gelding in his prime. I’ll show you a few.”

  White fences with horizontal rails lined both sides of the road, and there was a row of residential cottages for workers and caretakers. They came to a small stone-and-timber security office with lights aglow and more cameras. A guy came out and Caleb stopped the car. “Evening, George,” Caleb said.

  “Dude. I thought that was your code. Look at you, driving this hot little number.” The guy nodded at Reese, and his gaze lingered. “The car, that is. Evening, miss.”

  “Hi there, George. I’m Reese.”

  He looked over at Caleb, took off his cap, and scratched his head. “I take it you’re not here for work.”

  “Not tonight,” said Caleb.

  “Damn, I’ve never seen you driving a car,” said George. “You look so rad.”

  “My sole aim in life is to look rad,” said Caleb.

  George checked out Reese again. “Mission accomplished.”

  “We won’t be long. I want to show Reese around a bit.” He rolled forward and drove to a big barn. There were signs for visitor parking and areas marked for employees only.

  The evening light painted everything with a magical glow—the buildings and mountains, fenced fields and trails, open and covered arenas. A lone worker led a huge horse along the path to the barn.

  Caleb pulled into a lot next to a barn, parked, and got out of the car. “Hey, Miguel,” he said.

  “Caleb.” Like George, Miguel regarded him with open curiosity. Apparently the sight of Caleb Stoltz with a car and a woman was cause for speculation. “Just finishing up,” Miguel added.

  Reese got out of the car.

  “Ay, mujer,” Miguel said under his breath. “Huy, qué buena estás—”

  “You don’t want to go there,” she said easily in Spanish.

  “Listen to you two, jabbering away in Spanish.” Caleb took hold of the horse’s lead. “I’ll put Rolf away, Miguel. You have a good night.”

  “Thanks, man.” He slipped a cautious glance at Reese. “See you tomorrow.”

  With the horse in tow, Caleb walked down the center of the barn. The warm smells of hay and horses pervaded the air. It was an incredible building, almost cathedral-like, its gambrel roof soaring above rows of stalls on either side. Deep amber sunlight fell slantwise through the skylights, illuminating the space with a soft glow.

  “Holy shit,” Reese said, looking around. “This place is nicer than my first college dorm.”

  “These animals get the royal treatment, that’s for sure.” Caleb stopped at one of the stalls and touched another keypad. He slid the door open and settled Rolf into the roomy space with a flowing water trough and a rack of pale green hay. “They travel all over for the beer company events, so they need to be in tip-top shape.”

  She felt like a kid as she peered into other stalls, admiring the huge, gorgeous animals, with their placid expressions and long-lashed eyes. “The famous Clydesdales. They’re even prettier than they look on TV.”

  “There are a few stables around the country,” Caleb said. “New Hampshire, Virginia, Missouri, Wyoming . . . some other places. I don’t travel with the hitch, though.” He went to the end of the aisle and opened a door marked with his name and title: senior handler and barn manager.

  “That’s your job here, then?” Reese asked. Another surprise. He had a job title. An office.

  He nodded and held the door for her. His office was small and spare, with a plain wooden desk, trays neatly stacked with files, and a large wall calendar covered in hand-lettered notes. The bookcase was filled with manuals and journals about horses. There was no computer or phone, just a hand-crank adding machine. He took a key from a desk drawer. “The tack room’s through here.”

  “All right,” she said, not quite sure what a tack room was. It turned out to be another beautifully designed space filled with saddles, bridles, reins, and bits, along with larger pieces of harness. He took down a slender loop of leather from a hook. Then he tossed her a pair of tan stretch pants and a pair of ankle boots. “You’re going to want to put these on under your pretty dress,” he said and stepped outside the door.

  She frowned at the pants. They had some kind of reinforced seat and silicone dots on the inner thigh area. Riding breeches? Not a great look with the dress. The boots were too big, but she shrugged, put on the clothes, and went outside to join Caleb.

  “This is Stanley,” he said, indicating a horse in a set of crossties. “He’s going to take us for a ride.”

  She regarded the enormous animal. “You mean, in a cart or something?”

  “Nope.” He pushed a bit in place between the big yellow teeth, then slipped the headpiece of the bridle over the horse’s head. “We’re riding bareback.”

  “On a draft horse?”

  “They’re not the most common breed for riding, but it can be done.”

  Her inner kid did a happy dance. “That’s wonderful. I’ve never been on a horse.”

  “I know,” said Caleb. “You said so during that game we played. That’s why we’re going for a ride.” He finished getting Stanley ready, then handed her a helmet. While she put it on, he brought over a kitchen stool and set it on the floor beside the animal.

  Reese regarded the horse from his dinner-plate-size hooves to the top of his head, and a thrill of fear went through her. “I, um . . . This is a little intimidating.”

  “Stanley’s the best we’ve got. I trained him up myself, starting when he was two years old. And even though these horses are huge, this breed is known for being docile. Some folks call them gentle giants. The main thing is to show him you trust him.” He stood beside the step stool and held out his hand, palm up.

  She looked up at him and placed her hand in his. “I trust.”

  He helped her swing one leg up and over. She was startled by how broad the horse’s back was—she was practically doing the splits. Then she looked down and urgently grasped a lock of the mane. “Holy crap. He seems even taller from up here.”

  “Nearly nineteen hands,” Caleb agreed. “He’s a big fellow.”

  Feeling completely vulnerable, she held on to the horse’s long mane with both fists. “I don’t know about this . . .”

  “I do,” he said, unhooking the crossties and grabbing a second helmet. “The hospital’s your world. This one is mine.”

  This gave her an inkling of how out of place he must feel at the hospital. He seemed completely at home here, moving among the horses with ease and confidence. Watching him, she forced herself to relax. To believe. He kn
ew what he was doing. He wouldn’t let her get hurt. She had dragged him to salsa dancing and sushi, and he’d taken it all in stride. The least she could do was let him treat her to a glimpse of his everyday life.

  But the moment the horse moved, she squawked, “Shit, I’m scared.”

  “Hang on,” Caleb said calmly. “I’ll lead him out into the paddock and we’ll go for a ride together. Look ahead, not down. Relax. It’s fine, Reese.”

  Fighting all her control freak tendencies, she took a deep breath and focused her gaze through the pricked ears of the horse. With the lead in hand, Caleb walked outside to a paddock adjacent to a meadow. With each step the horse took, Reese felt wobbly and unbalanced.

  Then she looked around at the glorious scenery and felt a glimmer of calm. It really was beautiful here, with the deep twilight shadows of the fields and hillsides. In the distance, the first turning leaves of fall created flickers of color.

  “Doing all right?” Caleb asked.

  “Sure,” she said, trying to get used to the rhythm of the horse’s undulating muscles beneath her. “Honestly, riding a horse looks easier than it is.” She pictured Wesley and Buttercup on horseback in The Princess Bride, flowing like a banner of silk across the landscape. The reality involved a lot more teeth-gritting, swearing, and white-knuckled clutching.

  Caleb walked the horse to a mounting block and got on behind her in one easy, graceful movement. She gasped at the intimate contact, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Ready for a ride?”

  “Isn’t that what I just did?” she asked weakly.

  He chuckled. “You’re going to like this, Reese.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.” His long, strong arms bracketed her as he reached forward and took hold of the reins. The horse walked on, this time at a faster, more even pace.

  She strengthened her grip on Stanley’s mane.

  “You can relax,” Caleb said. “I won’t let you fall.”

  “All right. Just . . . take it easy, okay? Remember, it’s my first time.”

  “I’m glad I get to be here for your first time,” Caleb said.

  She could feel the brush of his breath on her neck. The pressure of her back against his chest and the dense muscles of his arms awakened nerves she didn’t know she possessed. Who knew shoulder blades could be an erogenous zone?

  When the horse picked up its pace again, she grabbed hold of Caleb’s arms. “Hey, that’s fast enough,” she protested. “His back is so wide, I can’t hang on with my legs.”

  “Gravity does all the work,” he said, “if you let your hips move with the horse. Since he’s way bigger than you, your only job is to absorb his movements, not the other way around. It’ll feel a lot smoother when I take him up to a canter.”

  “You mean he has a faster gear than this?”

  A moment later, the brisk walk accelerated. Reese caught her breath and held tighter to Caleb’s arms. Relax, she reminded herself.

  Caleb managed the horse with utter confidence, and ultimately, that won her trust. In no time at all, she did have the sensation that they were flowing across the field like silk. The horse ran the length of the field, then turned and ran to a line of trees that bordered the meadow. They did a few loops as the sky deepened to purple twilight and a full moon appeared. As they headed back to the barn, the moonlight turned the field to silver, and Caleb urged the horse to a lope and then a full-on gallop.

  Best date ever, she thought, tingling with exhilaration when they stopped in the paddock. Caleb got off, then grasped her by the waist and hoisted her down to the mounting steps.

  “Wow,” she said. “Wow, that was . . . wow.” Her legs wobbled, and she grabbed his arm.

  “Easy,” he said. “Riding’s hard on the legs if you’re not used to it, especially on a big guy like Stanley.”

  “I’m in love with Stanley,” she said. “Just so you know.”

  “Then you can help me put him up for the night. We need to walk him a bit to cool down his muscles.”

  Reese’s own muscles could use some cooling down. They walked together in the moonlight, with the horse following like a docile dog. Then they took him inside and groomed him with a sweat scraper and then a currycomb.

  “This might be the worst possible dress for the occasion,” she said with a laugh, remembering how she’d agonized over her outfit. “I’m not complaining, though.”

  “You can clean up in there while I put Stanley in his stall.”

  She ducked into a restroom, where she peeled off the boots and riding pants and scrubbed her hands clean. Her hair was windblown and there were some smudges on the dress, but she couldn’t stop smiling. She rejoined Caleb, and they walked outside together. The evening had grown cool and quiet, and when her arm brushed against his, she shivered a little.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “I . . . no.”

  “Sure you are.” He took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. The garment held his warmth and scent, and it felt like an embrace.

  “Thank you for bringing me here. I like your world. I think I even like horseback riding. This is a really special place, Caleb.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  Their arms brushed again, and this time, Reese knew it was no accident. She also knew this was a bad idea on many levels. “Hannah said there’s a girl back home. That you have an understanding.” There. She’d said it. Yes, she had just opened that door.

  He stopped walking and took her hand, turning her to face him. “Everybody supposes that. Everybody except me.”

  “Really? And how about you? What do you suppose?”

  “I suppose that it’s okay to kiss you.”

  Any protest melted against the soft, insistent pressure of his mouth on hers. She lost herself in his taste and warmth, in the way he surrounded her. Everything that had been simmering between them overflowed and she pressed close, feeling the beat of his heart against hers. One kiss from Caleb was more erotic than an entire night with a different guy.

  There were things that she knew—that this kiss was serious. That it was going to make her life more complicated, her goals harder to attain. It was going to upset plans she’d been making for a decade. It was probably going to end with someone getting hurt.

  Yet despite the flurry of doubts, there was a rush of helpless surrender. If they didn’t stop, she was going to explode. If they did stop, she was going to shatter. She gripped his shirt in both her fists the way she’d grasped the horse’s mane, holding on to him, holding on to a sense of astonishment the likes of which she’d never felt before, even as she knew she would have to force herself to let go.

  13

  “I’ve been hearing rumors about you.”

  Reese gave a guilty start as she looked around the on-call room. At the moment, the only occupants were her and her mother. “What sort of rumors, Mom?” Her mind raced through the possibilities. Her parents’ spies were everywhere in the hospital. It was their home turf, after all. The stage upon which they performed. Everyone who was anyone knew them and, by association, Reese. She lived in a fishbowl, which wasn’t usually a problem, since she barely had a life. Until lately.

  Her mother set her Birkin bag on a chair by the door. “The sort that make me go ‘hmmm.’”

  “My life is not interesting enough to make anyone go ‘hmmm.’ What have you heard?”

  “That you’ve taken up with some farmer from the backwoods.”

  “I’ll try to keep a straight face,” Reese said, though her heart sped up with a surge of guilt. Guilt. Was she still that kid, living in horror of disappointing her parents, pathetically eager for approval? “Where did you hear this?”

  “You know hospitals. Everyone talks. So is it true?”

  “What? The farmer? The backwoods? Or the taking up?”

  “Any of it.”

  No. Yes. I don’t know. “I imagine they’re referring to Caleb Stoltz. I mentioned him before. His nephew is a patient here, and
Caleb’s staying with my neighbor so he can be close to Jonah.”

  Her mother said nothing, which only made Reese more intent on rationalizing. “He doesn’t know anyone in the city. And just so you know, there’s been no ‘taking up.’ I’ve hung out with the guy a time or two. Introduced him to friends. It’s nothing.”

  She hated that she had to explain him. She hated that it made her defensive. She hated that she’d just called her thing with Caleb “nothing.”

  “In that case,” her mother said, “we don’t have anything to worry about, do we?”

  “Why would you worry even if I did happen to be involved with Caleb?”

  “Are you saying you might be?”

  “Jesus H. Christ, Mom—”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  With no simple answer.

  Her mother glanced at her watch. “Come to dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “Bring your friend.”

  “But—”

  “He’s all alone in the city. You said so yourself. I’m sure he’d appreciate a home-cooked meal.”

  “Since when do you cook at home?”

  “I never said I was doing the cooking. But I have a home. And I have a cook. You need to eat. So, I assume, does your friend.”

  “But—”

  “Drinks at seven, dinner at eight. Text me if he has any dietary restrictions.”

  Reese felt rotten about the conversation with her mother. Caleb was not “nothing.” He was exactly the opposite of nothing.

  The moonlight ride at Grantham Farm marked a turning point for her, and maybe for them both. The moment he had kissed her was the moment she’d been forced to stop pretending this wasn’t a thing. It was the moment she had to face reality and admit to herself that not only was it a thing, it was a big thing.

  Which made it a big problem.

  She thought about him day and night. She thought about him in the OR when she was observing a neurosurgeon clip an aneurysm. She thought about him in the on-call room when she was supposed to be sleeping. Or working on research. Or eating lunch or meeting with attendings and preceptors.