Leaping Hearts (33 page)

He dusted it off and repositioned it carefully.

“This was my whole life,” he told her. “From daybreak until well into the night, the riding and competing was everything. Nothing else mattered.”

When he looked at her, his voice took on a strident tone. “Which is why I’m telling you to back off.”

A.J.’s brows crashed down over her eyes. “You didn’t get all these trophies and ribbons because you gave up. You worked hard. You made sacrifices.”

His laugh was harsh. “I sure as hell did. I sacrificed my goddamn partner.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. That morning when the accident happened, I took Mercy out for a warm-up I knew damn well she wasn’t fit for. She’d cracked a rail the day before and landed funny but I told myself she was fine.” His voice thinned. “I made the choice to press her because all I wanted was to win that goddamn cup again. I killed her for a goddamn silver cup.”

Devlin’s eyes shot over to the four sterling-silver Qualifier trophies that were mounted on the wall. A cold emotion, something close to hatred, settled into the lines of his face as self-blame washed over him in a wave.

A.J. went to him, stroking his arm.

He told her, “I can tell you it wasn’t worth it but I know you won’t believe me.”

“Of course I do!”

“Then you’re lying to yourself. Every day, when you get in that ring with Sabbath on the verge of exhaustion, you’re taking a dangerous sport and making it worse.”

She took his hands and brought them to her lips. “I don’t want you to worry. I can handle it.”

“I’m not just worried. I’m frustrated and I’m angry because I’m trying to save you from yourself.” He expelled a breath harshly. “Which is pointless. If someone had tried to put the brakes on me, I wouldn’t have listened, either.”

“Devlin, I’m strong and determined but I’m not reckless with that stallion. I’m scrupulous about keeping after his legs. I’m so careful—”

He was shaking his head. “You just don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about Sabbath. It’s about you.”

“And
I
need to do this.”

“If you don’t make it to the Qualifier, what do you think is going to happen? There won’t be any more trophies to win? No more events? Don’t get so fixated on three weeks from now that you forget there’s a whole damn calendar year full of rings to compete in. It doesn’t have to happen all at once.”

“But you’re the one who told me not to pull back at the fairgrounds. You were the one who refocused me after Marceau jumped all over us. Why are you telling me to turn back now?”

“Because you don’t look well.”

“Thanks,” she said gruffly, and pulled away. “Just because I’m not in show clothes, you don’t think I can take it.”

“That’s a cheap shot and you know it. Besides, what I’m telling you is to slow down, not walk away.”

Their eyes met and he hoped he’d reached her but when A.J. turned toward the windows, he knew she wasn’t going to change her course.

“What will you do if I keep going?” she asked finally.

“I love you,” he said to her back. “And I made a promise to you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He watched as her shoulders relaxed.

“I can’t get through this without you, Devlin.”

“Then don’t ask me to sit back and watch you self-destruct.”

“I’m a lot stronger than you think.”

She came over to him and he felt her arms come around his waist. He accepted her body against his, tucking her into him, wishing he could shelter her.

In Devlin’s heart, he prayed that getting her to the Qualifier wasn’t going to tear them apart.

Devlin and A.J. returned to the barn in a tense silence they tried to camouflage with banal conversation. Chester had just finished grooming the stallion and was putting the brushes away.

“It’s back to the pool for you,” A.J. informed Sabbath. “And this time, you’re getting your feet wet.”

“You’re going to try and get him into the water?” Devlin asked.

“That’s what I’ve been shooting for. The more exposure he gets, the better. What could be closer than getting four hooves in the jump?”

“But it’s cold out there.” Devlin was silent for a moment. “Wait. If you’re going swimming, I think I’ve got what you need.”

“Oh, no,” Chester said. “Not the Swamp Thangs.”

A.J. shot the man a curious look. “What’s a Swamp Thang?”

“They’re pretty indescribable.”

Devlin returned with the ugliest, most misbegotten set of rubber waist-waders A.J. had ever seen. They were big, they were motley green and they smelled awful.

“You’re kidding me.”

“These are no laughing matter.”

“You got that right.”

“They happen to be specially made.”

“Out of old trash bags?”

“You’ll thank me later,” he said, holding them out.

“Only if you make me.”

A.J. put them up against her and then went to step into one side. It was like volunteering to go into a mudhole.

“Hold up. You’re going to have to lose the shoes,” Devlin told her. “They’re meant to be worn with only a pair of socks.”

“An’ a blindfold, if ya happen to be around any mirrors,” Chester said.

With a curse, she stripped off her barn boots. “Off-loading some self-esteem no doubt helps as well.”

When she pulled the waders up, the waistband came to her chest and she had to readjust the suspenders to their limit. Excess rubber flapped around her as she walked around, sounding like fish on the bottom of a boat.

“They smell like old sneakers,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

Chester laughed. “When they made ’em, had to make sure all the senses were offended. Seemed only fair.”

“I feel like I’m wearing the Jolly Green Giant’s Depends.”

“Enough with the wisecracks,” Devlin cut in. “They’ll keep you dry and that’s what matters.”

“All right, then, let’s get down to it. These things aren’t going to look better with time.”

She took Sabbath off the crossties and saw he was giving her outfit the once-over. His look seemed to say,
You can’t be serious.

“Don’t start,” she told him. “In a few minutes, you’re going to be so busy being nervous you’re not even going to notice what I’m wearing.”

Once A.J. and Devlin got the stallion into the ring, they turned him loose for a few minutes. After Sabbath had settled down, A.J. hooked a lead line to him and took him over toward the water, being careful to keep her injured arm out of the way. As a result of their hard work, she was able to get him standing at the edge of the pool but he balked as soon as she asked him to step into the water with her.

Turning around, they approached again. And again. In time, the stallion eventually gave in, tentatively reaching a foreleg out and pawing at the water as A.J. stood in the pool. Another hoof followed but the rest of him refused the baptism by fire. With his front legs splayed out widely, most of his weight was on his hindquarters and his massive muscles were quivering, ready to contract and propel him backward the instant his fear overwhelmed him.

As it soon did.

With a frantic whinny and a maneuver so abrupt it surprised even A.J., he bolted. Things didn’t go well after that. In his panic to leap away from the water, Sabbath accomplished the opposite as he lost his footing and ended up with every hoof he had, and a little more, in the pool. The commotion stirred up a fury of spray, which only scared him more and drenched A.J. as she struggled to hold on.

“I think that’s enough,” Devlin called out from his position at the rail.

“I don’t want to end this way.”

“You’re soaked.”

“Thanks for the news flash.” She smiled to take any sting from the words. “But we need one more try.”

One more try turned into several. At first, the stallion refused to go anywhere near the jump. Having had his fears confirmed thanks to his own flailing, he was more determined than ever to keep dry and distant. But A.J.’s sweet talking and patience paid off. He was getting ready to put a foot in again when she noticed Devlin walking toward them. Pulling Sabbath around to give him another break, she was annoyed at the interruption.

“What?” she asked, trying to hide the shiver that racked her.

“Time to go in.”

“Just one more—”

“Nothing. You’re wetter than the bottom of a lake.”

“We’re making p-progress,” she forced out between teeth which chattered like castanets.

“Your lips are blue.”

“They mmm-match my eyes.”

His look held frank challenge. Now was an opportunity to prove she could be sensible, it said.

“Fine,” she muttered, and led the horse from the ring.

Back at the farmhouse and standing in front of the bathroom mirror naked, A.J. raised her arm over her head. It was something she did regularly, a test she took whenever she had a moment to herself. Each time, she measured in vain for some improvement, some lessening in the stiffness and pain.

She grimaced and turned away from the mirror. Devlin was making dinner downstairs and she could catch a whiff of stir-fry vegetables drifting up from the kitchen. As she went into the bedroom, she looked at the bed they shared, remembering all the times they had made love in it.

Their conversation in that trophy room came back to her and her heart ached. With each day that passed, she was relying more and more on her ability to keep going physically by will alone. And as time went on, her lies to Devlin accumulated, raising the stakes. With a cold trickle of fear, she realized how much she was wagering. As long as she was able to tough it out, she was convinced her injury wouldn’t be exposed and he’d never have to know what she
was really going through. He wouldn’t have to worry. And they wouldn’t have to argue about her training.

But what if she couldn’t make it? What if the pain got to the point where she could no longer go on?

A.J. pulled her hair back and started to get dressed.

She had enough juice to make it to the Qualifier, she told herself once again. She just had to have enough.

“You about ready?” Devlin called up the stairs.

“I’m almost dressed.”

“Pity.”

A.J. grinned.

And then took two more painkillers.

A
WEEK
later, Sabbath was lobbying for a reprieve like a flounder in a shark tank.

“I mean it,” A.J. was saying. “Come on. You’ve done this before.”

Standing in the six inches of ice-cold water she’d learned to hate, A.J. tugged on the lead line again. Her nose was running, she couldn’t feel the tips of her fingers even though she was wearing gloves, and her feet were wet. Which was always a mystery. No matter how often she checked for holes in the waders, she couldn’t find any. They were supposed to be watertight but her soggy socks told a different story.

Talk about your bad combos, she thought, looking down at the suit. Butt ugly and nonfunctional.

The stallion put out a front hoof as if he stood to lose the entire leg and submersed it with an expression of distaste. The other followed and then Sabbath paused, checking to see if she was serious. When she took a step farther into the pool, he heaved a great sigh and then his hind legs came along. Standing in the water together, with A.J. stroking his neck along with his ego, the magnificent stallion looked miserable. But he wasn’t running scared.

It was the breakthrough they’d been working so hard for, A.J. thought. Although more to the point if she was teaching him to swim.

It was hard not to feel frustrated in spite of their progress.
Considering they had yet to try him over the jump again, they weren’t where they needed to be.

A.J. sneezed.

She was, however, a hell of a lot closer to catching pneumonia.

As she walked Sabbath out of the pool, she gave in to his hopeful look and decided to take him back to the barn. She was leading him out of the ring when Devlin drove up in the truck, back from getting its bed fixed. He waved to her and went to open the gate. As she approached him, she thought the sound of the sloppy waders and her sneezes were like a bad marching band accompanying her. Even so, his eyes were warm as she looked up into them.

“How’d it go today?” he asked.

“’Bout the same as usual. Plenty of time in the jump, no time in the air above it. On the brighter side, he’s going to try out for the Olympic Swim Team. With the kind of water he can displace, he’s a shoo-in for the hundred-meter butterfly.”

They walked to the stable together.

“I have this vision of us at the Qualifier,” A.J. was saying. “In the middle of the round, Sabbath comes to a full stop and wades into the pool because that’s what we’ve trained him to do.”

Chester popped his head out of the tack room.

“If it ain’t Esther Williams and Fernando Lamas,” he said.

“Try the Marx Brothers,” she muttered, while putting the stallion into his stall. She began unfastening his soaking wet blanket.

“I think it’s time to take him over the jump,” she said to Devlin.

“I agree. The panic’s down enough so he can probably keep his wits about him.”

“Then tomorrow it is.”

Devlin handed her a dry blanket that she threw over the stallion’s back and secured under his belly. With Sabbath taken care of, she went out into the aisle and released the dreaded suspenders, relieved to be free of them. Feeling the waders rush to the floor, she thought they seemed equally
anxious to see the last of her. She couldn’t resist shooting them a glare.

Devlin helped her step free and looked down at her wet socks.

“They never seem to leak when I wear them.”

“Maybe they like you better.” She went to hang the waders up in the tack room, hoping she’d worn them for the last time.

When she came back, Devlin and Chester were talking about the condition of the rails around the ring, some of which needed to be repainted.

“I’ll be takin’ care a’ that in the next week,” Chester said. “’Afore it gets too cold.”

“Good idea.” Devlin checked his watch. “So’s everyone ready for some dinner?”

“Not me,” came a happy reply.

Devlin shot the groom a suspicious eye.

“Why ya lookin’ at me like that, boy?”