by Toni Mari
“Mandy and I will get her some food and meet you at Santos’s stall.”
I took Mark’s hands, smiling. “Thank you,” pouring my whole heart into those two words.
He leaned down to peer in my face. “It’s just coffee.” The corner of his lip lifted at his own joke, but I could tell he knew what I meant.
“Let’s go,” Kate urged.
Robert patted my shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the warm-up ring in an hour.”
“Thank you.” They were the only words left in my head. The extraordinary circumstances had blasted my synapses clean.
We hustled through the main barn to Santos’s stall. I stopped Kate by grabbing her jacket and twisting. “I have to go take care of Windsong. He’ll need hay and water by now.”
Kate pulled free and kept walking. “It’s been taken care of.”
“By who?”
Before I took another step, Melinda’s distinctive nasal tone drifted out of the stall. “His neck is so long, I’m never going to get done braiding.”
A mocking, deep male voice responded, “Stop complaining and keep working. You are such a princess.”
“Shut up, spoiled brat. And go easy on the tail hair. Haven’t you ever brushed one before?”
I grinned. “Melinda? Shawn?” The stall door slid open, and Shawn stepped out, one hand holding a tail comb. But this was a different Shawn. His deep tan was accented by short dark hair, and a polo shirt stretched tightly over a broad chest. His former leanness had morphed into bulging muscles. My eyes roved over his bronzed arms and long legs. Florida had done him good.
When my eyes met his warm, chocolate brown ones, his lip lifted in a sardonic smile. “At your service, sexy girl.”
I laughed and hugged him tight. “What are you doing here? Forget it, I don’t care. I’m just glad you are.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Melinda and I wanted to surprise you by coming to watch. We planned the trip weeks ago. Support for our teammate and all. I’m sorry about Windsong, though.”
“Me, too,” Melinda chimed in. “Jane, get in here and finish your own mane, my fingers can’t take any more.” Despite her command, she simply held out her arms when I ducked into the stall.
After a tight hug, I offered to take over.
She shook her head. “No, I was just teasing. We already bathed him, and Shawn is supposed to be combing out his tail, but he really is ripping it to shreds. You might want to take over for him before he makes Santos bald.”
I took the comb from Shawn. “You bathed my horse—well, I mean, the horse I’m going to ride?”
“Yeah, we’ve been buzzing around here for centuries. Kate asked us to help when we couldn’t find you.”
Kate popped her head into the stall. “And I’ll finish the tail. Here’s Mark with your breakfast. Sit down and eat.” She pushed me toward the food.
Robert’s tack stall had a rug rolled out on the floor; three-tier saddle racks towered in one corner next to a row of hooks with bridles hanging on them. Everything was spotlessly clean and neatly stowed. Padded folding chairs surrounded a table covered in a silky green cloth. A little vase of fresh flowers stood in the middle. Mark pulled out a chair and placed a breakfast sandwich and a lovely, steaming cup of coffee in front of it.
“Eat,” he ordered.
“I’ll eat while I tack up.”
“Kate has that under control. You need to eat.” He pointed at the chair. “And have a rest. I won’t have my professional rider blowing her class because she wasn’t properly fed.”
Although it felt completely unnatural to sit and enjoy a meal before a class, I sank gratefully into the chair, the aroma of coffee and bacon silencing any other protests.
“Jane!” I jumped up and whipped around at my mother’s voice, my mouth stuffed with sandwich. I held a hand in front of my full mouth. What were they doing here?
Mom enveloped my stiff form in her arms, and I breathed in the familiar scent of her perfume. “Baby, we’re here now.” She put her hands on my moving jaw and kissed my cheek. “I’ve missed you so much, but we’re here.”
“Mark Grant.” Mark shook hands with my father. “Nice to meet you. I’ll let you guys have a few minutes by yourselves. Make sure she eats.” He slipped out of the stall.
Chewing, I looked over my mother’s shoulder at my father, who stood behind her, staring at me. I wasn’t sure I had the strength or even the interest to waste on this conversation.
“What are you doing here?” I refused to smile or make this easier. I had reached out to him with every email; I had tried to explain myself. I didn’t have time to explain anything right now. Did he think he could just smile that slightly crooked, dear, familiar smile and I would fall into his arms? My vision blurred and I swayed.
My mother slid her hands up and down my arms. “Sit down, finish eating. Warren, stop glaring at her like that. We have been talking to Kate, sweetie. She told us everything. We haven’t been able to get you on the phone since yesterday.”
“Dead battery.” I plopped down onto the fabric seat and took a fortifying sip of coffee.
“First of all, how’s Windsong? Is he okay?” my mother asked. She pulled out another chair and settled herself neatly into it.
My father took the chair opposite mine. “We didn’t have time to go check on him first. How is he?”
“Don’t pretend you care.”
“Jane, don’t talk like that,” my mother protested, but my father put a hand on her arm.
“No, I deserve her venom. Sweetie, I owe you an apology.” His eyes looked everywhere but at me. He blew out a big breath like a hot air balloon firing up.
He owed me more than that. How many emails had he ignored? Now, when I needed to focus, he wanted to have an emotional father–daughter talk? I pushed back my chair. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Please, just give me a minute. I know you’re busy.” And then he did something I had never witnessed my confident, sometimes overbearing, stern parent do. He bit his lip and repeated softly, “Please.”
I perched stiffly on the edge of the chair and waited in silence.
He got up, pacing back and forth in the small space. “I read every email you sent me at least ten times. And just as many times, I wrote a reply but deleted it for sounding stupid. Your mother made sure I saw every article written about you, and I realized how wrong I was. I booked tickets and told your mother to pack. We didn’t get Kate’s messages until we landed today. And then you wouldn’t answer your phone. I thought you were so furious you weren’t speaking to me.” He swallowed and then leaned his hands on the table, finally meeting my eyes. “I am so proud of you. Will you ever forgive me?”
“I did try to tell you I wasn’t blowing off college.”
“I know. I wouldn’t listen. I was a pompous, puffy-chested, righteous suit and you were smart, focused, and …” His face softened and he smiled as he lightened the moment. “Beautiful.”
We stared at each other. My mother sniffed, and even though I wasn’t looking at her, I knew she was crying. She cried for everything, no surprise where I got that from.
“You’ll let me do things my way?”
He nodded, coming around the table to hug me.
“You’re not my little girl anymore,” he whispered into my hair.
“I’ll always be your little girl. But I have to go right now. I have a job to do.”
Chapter 40
“I’m going to need a leg up.” I smoothed my tailcoat and pulled on my gloves.
Shawn cupped his hands and I put my knee in them.
He nodded. “One, two, three!” I jumped on three and he pushed on my leg, but Santos was so tall, I still couldn’t throw my leg over his back. Darn it, I missed my three-step mounting block. I grabbed at his mane and the back of the saddle and clawed my way up.
“Oof!” The air left my lungs as my stomach smacked onto the leather. Shawn used both hands to push on my rump and I wiggled and pulled. Final
ly, I got my leg on the other side, and Melinda helped put my feet in the stirrups. Santos never moved during the whole fiasco.
Shawn rubbed his hands together. “I love it when Cory’s not around.”
Rolling my eyes and ignoring a spear of longing, I gathered the reins. I had pulled a braid out during my clumsy ascent. I started to fiddle with it, but Melinda knocked my hands away.
“I’ll do it. You look fabulous, even your hair is perfect. That’s a good sign for you, Jumpy Jane.” Her teasing smile was warm, and she patted Santos’s neck. “Knock it out of the park, girlfriend.”
“Thank you, Melinda. I never thought I would say this, but you’re an awfully good friend.”
“Only outside the ring. Someday we’ll be in the same class again and I’ll be out for your blood.” She chuckled.
Melinda and Shawn walked near my knees. We navigated the paths to the warm-up ring. Having them there felt like the team was back together, and I liked it, but I missed the white cowboy hat. How could I be about to ride the most important ride of my whole life and Cory wasn’t here? How could I be sitting on the most talented horse ever, and my heart was heavy with missing him?
Michelle was waiting by the entrance gate. “You look great.” She held up her hand and I squeezed it.
“Thanks. For everything.”
“Hey, Santos.” Michelle stroked his chest scars and looked up at me. “I wish Erica was here, but I know she would be glad it was you riding him, now.”
“I’m not so sure, but thanks for saying that.”
“I’m not just saying it, Erica did. She had a thing for you from the moment she met you. That’s why I proposed you as spokesperson for EMA. You’re just like Erica, and your actions this weekend prove it. You’ll be wonderful today, I’m sure of it.”
A lump rose in my throat and I spoke around it. “That’s the nicest thing you could have said to me. I will do my best not to disappoint you.” We clasped hands again and I rode into the warm-up ring.
Santos was businesslike in warm-up. He didn’t look around but kept his eyes trained to the front, undistracted by the noise and other horses. Where Windsong was all electricity and agility, Santos was power, elasticity, fluid movement from figure to figure. I was so nervous my neck was like iron and my back stiff, interfering with my own signals.
I attempted a row of flying lead changes every three strides, but my timing was behind Santos’s, and I actually prevented him from completing the last two. Completely disorganized, I hauled him to a walk. He jerked the reins out of my hands, his lips flapping and his stride strong and tense.
Kate waved me over to where she was standing with Robert along the rail. I pointed Santos toward her and right into the path of a cantering horse. I pulled him sideways by the reins, wincing at the dark look from the other rider. Santos ripped at the bit, clearly disgusted with me. Something he had never done in the two weeks that I rode him at home. Kate was going to yell at me, I was ruining this horse, and I had a class in ten minutes.
Carefully looking all around, I navigated Santos to the fence.
Kate stepped up onto the middle rail, raising herself level with me on Santos. Robert put a hand on her back to steady her. “Nervous?” she asked.
Silly question. “Of course,” I answered through tight lips, acid burning in my stomach.
“You rode this horse all last week. You practiced your freestyle sequences and he can do them easily. Intermediate I is cake to a Grand Prix horse like him.”
“All these people watching and expecting me to be perfect. I can’t think,” I hissed.
Kate looked around at the unusual number of people leaning on the fence. Most fans usually waited in the stands to watch the actual class instead of gathering around their favorites during warm-up. “Okay. Don’t think then, ride from your heart. Santos likes you. Concentrate on your connection to him and let the rest take care of itself.” Kate patted her chest. “Feel it.”
I glanced at Robert and he nodded agreement. With a deep, fortifying breath, I cautiously rode into the center of the arena. Signaling a canter, I eased around a corner, pointed the giant red body across the diagonal and began skipping the flying lead changes. Change, one, two, three, change, one, two, and three, or four. Wait, ahhh, I missed it again. I patted Santos’s neck and turned the corner for another try, but Kate was jumping up and down. I realized she was waving me to the gate. A tremor traveled from my lips to my fingertips. It was time.
I rode out the gate and Kate began buffing my boots and wiping Santos’s lips and bits.
“Kate, I couldn’t get the changes! What am I going to do?” I couldn’t control the quiver in my voice.
Kate smiled, cool, confident, and encouraging. “Jane, you know what to do. Stop worrying. Ride like I taught you, listen to your horse, and, most of all, have fun.”
Certainly, they were words I had heard before. But like a balm on a wound, I needed to hear them again. I gave a solemn nod, trying to imitate Kate’s cool, calm confidence.
I gathered Santos’s reins and moved toward the show ring. All eyes were fastened on me. I pasted a stiff smile on my mouth but didn’t connect with any of them. I was longing for a set of mesmerizing, steady blue ones peering from under the brim of a white cowboy hat. Grins and wishes of good luck poured out of people, meant to encourage me but adding to the liquid feeling in my knees.
I walked Santos in the gate and picked up a trot at the corner. Santos lifted his legs in a floating, powerful gait, eating up the ground and making the faces outside the ring a blur. My body automatically adjusted to the motion of his strides, and I focused on his ears.
Matching my breathing to his rhythm, I massaged the reins with my fingers. He softened his jaw and then his neck. My hands became steadier, and my back absorbed and followed the motion. Santos relaxed. He rocked his weight back and organized himself for the first corner. I smiled. He was a pro, and incredibly trained. My smile widened and I lifted my chin.
Shawn and Melinda stood next to Michelle, and both gave me a thumbs-up and bright, encouraging smiles as we passed them. I wanted them to enjoy my performance. I grinned at them.
Next to them, my father stood behind my mother, his arms around her protecting her from stray elbows. Both were wearing matching misty-eyed expressions. I wanted to prove to them that I had chosen the right path. I pressed my seat bones more firmly into the saddle, adjusting my posture to make myself taller, more elegant.
I rounded the corner, and Kate and Robert were both nodding. Kate raised her eyebrows and silently clapped her hands, bubbling with excitement. She had designed this freestyle. I wanted to do it justice just to please her and thank her for all of her hard work. I wanted Robert to see that I had determination, if not seasoning, and prove to him that he had made the right choice. I squared my shoulders.
Mandy stood on a rail of the fence in front of Mark. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called, “Go, Jane and Santos!” Mark’s chin rested on her shoulder and his arms were around her. He grinned and nodded. My chest swelled. I blew them a kiss and then beamed my love and appreciation. I wanted to justify Mark’s support and show Mandy that I deserved to ride her mother’s horse.
My gaze roamed over the other spectators along the fence. My eyes snagged on Alison’s pale blond head. Surprise punched me in the gut and my new determination faltered. What was she doing here? She had been banned from horse showing as a result of her sabotage attempts during the North American Team Championships. I didn’t think she was even allowed on the show grounds as a spectator, but there she was.
In morbid fascination, I waited for a scorching belittlement delivered in her sneering snotty voice, but her eyes never rose to mine. They were riveted on Santos, the appreciation of a horse lover written plainly on her face. Despite her animosity toward me, she clearly was a fan of Santos. I wanted her, and all his other fans, to see his brilliance and heart.
Recalling the grace and joy that radiated from Erica as she rode Santos,
I fingered his coppery mane. He swelled with purpose and showmanship when he entered a show ring, warming the hearts of his fans as he responded to Erica with pleasure. I wanted the spectators to see me in that way, a promising partner for Santos, following in Erica’s footsteps.
Santos’s ribs lifted my legs as he pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was preparing himself as we approached our starting mark. He knew we were about to perform. I wanted to be the best partner to him that I could be.
I signaled Santos to halt. My eyes inadvertently strayed to the gate as they did every time I was about to begin a test. My brain knew Cory wouldn’t be there, but it was a habit.
I saw the white cowboy hat. My throat closed. I waited for the brim to lift, not daring to hope that it could be. Boot on the bottom rail, denim-clad knee bent, the cowboy lifted his hat, ruffled dark curls, and set it back down just so. His chest was heaving, as if he had run a long way.
Finally, the face came up and electric eyes as blue as the sky met mine and a grin that could stop a heart filled mine until I had to slap a palm to my breast to keep it from bursting out. He folded his hands as if in prayer and his lips formed the words “Forgive me.”
I nodded vigorously. He was here! Placing my hand back on the reins, I grinned. My jitters melted away.
He pointed to me and then laid his hand on his chest. He loved me.
I threw him a kiss. “For them, Santos,” I whispered. “Let’s dance.” With confidence and joy radiating from my heart, I lifted my arm to signal our music.
From the Author
I came to the end of this series and I was thinking about the liberties I took in writing it. A common rule of thumb in Dressage is that the horse and rider need a year at each level. I advanced Jane and Windsong pretty quickly for the purposes of the story. I also blended different championship requirements to clarify goals for Jane and move the story along. I hope you diehard Dressage riders forgive my bending of reality. Windsong was a pretty hot horse, and he may seem over the top, but I have seen horses become upset and nothing will convince them to settle down. I did have a horse climb the walls of his stall at a show for nearly a day and a half. He didn’t have a heart condition and he was spoiled, not frightened. We were forced to scratch him from the show because he would not behave.