The Law of Moses (40 page)

Georgia’s dad missed a step, stumbled, and stopped. There was something powerful about that word.

“I hope you can forgive me. Because this is happening. Me and Georgia. This is happening.”

Georgia

I SPENT THE AFTERNOON in the small indoor arena conducting an equine therapy class with a group of kids with behavioral problems that were brought down from Provo, about an hour north of Levan. It was a smaller group than usual, maybe six people at the most, and all of them people I’d spent time with before. As I finished up the sun was starting to set and Moses was finishing up in the indoor arena. I’d followed my dad out of the barn after the awkward blow-up that morning. I’d needed to make sure he was okay and I’d needed to catch my breath.

“This is happening. Me and Georgia. It’s happening,” he’d said. And my heart had done a fat somersault and landed with a slosh in my churning stomach. It was happening. I believed him. And I was suddenly a little scared. So I’d left, following my poor dad out of the barn to help him come to grips with seeing his daughter engaging in tickle games and Moses being back in my life. But that was yesterday and now, here we were, alone in the quiet of the indoor arena. I’d just finished conducting a class and Moses was painting the long wall that connected the arena to the stable, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

“You’re good at that, you know. I heard some of it. You’re impressive,” he said easily, and I stared at him blankly, not sure what he was referring to. My brain was still stuck on tickling and the emotional conversation with my dad.

“The therapy. The kids. All of it. You’re good,” Moses explained with a small smile.

The praise pleased me, and I turned my face to hide my pleasure. I was way too easy. Too needy. I didn’t like that about myself very much. But Moses seemed genuinely interested, asking me questions about this and that until I found myself talking freely about what I did while I removed the horses saddles and brushed them down.

“Horses reflect the energy of the people in the session. Did you see how down Joseph was? How quiet? Did you see how Sackett stuck his head in there and practically laid it on his shoulder? And did you see how aggressive Lori was? She gave Lucky a little push and he pushed her right back. Not hard. But then he stayed in her space. Did you see that? It’s subjective, I get that. But there’s something to be said for going head to head with a 1200 pound animal, moving it, leading it, riding it. It’s incredibly empowering for people who have relinquished the power in their lives to drugs, alcohol, sex, illness, depression. Or in the case of kids . . . to those who have power over them, to those who control their lives. We work with autistic kids a lot. The horses unlock those kids. Everything that’s bottled up seems to loosen up. Even the movement, the gentle rocking motion, connects with people on an elemental level. It’s the same motion we feel when we walk. It’s like we become one with something so powerful, so big, that for a moment we take on that sense of supremacy.”

“I thought you were going to be a vet. Wasn’t that the plan?” Moses asked quietly, cleaning his brushes as I finished up with the horses.

“I grew up watching my parents work with animals and work with people. And after Kathleen died and you left, I didn’t want to do rodeo anymore. I didn’t even want to be a vet. I wanted to figure out how to unlock you, just like I saw so many others be helped.”

“Unlock me?” Moses looked shocked.

“Yes.” I met his gaze frankly, but I couldn’t hold it. Honesty was hard. And incredibly intimate. “So that’s what I did. I got a degree in psychology. And then I got a master’s degree on top of that.” I shrugged. “Maybe one day you’ll have to call me Dr. Georgia. But to tell you the truth, I’m not interested in doling out prescriptions. I’d rather just train horses and help people. I don’t know how I would have survived the last two years without my work.”

He was quiet for a minute, and I didn’t dare look at him.

“Are horses really that smart?” he asked, and I gladly let him change the subject. I didn’t especially want to talk about myself.

“I think smart is the wrong word, although they are intelligent. They are incredibly aware. They mimic, they react. And we only have to watch them to find clues about ourselves. And because of that, horses can be powerful tools. A horse will run a half mile out of blind fear. Nothing else. They aren’t thinking while they run. They’re just reacting. Dogs, cats, people— we’re all predators. But horses are prey. Not predators. And because they’re prey, they are instinct-based, emotion-based, fear-based. They are very in tune with heightened emotion, wherever it comes from. And they react accordingly.”

Moses nodded, as if he was buying what I said. He walked toward me and the horses didn’t react at all. He was calm. They were calm.

“Come here,” I insisted, beckoning him closer. I suddenly wanted to show him.

“Georgia. You remember what happened last time,” Moses protested, but he kept his voice soft.

“Hold my hand.”

He reached forward and slipped his fingers through mine, palm to palm, and I took a step toward the horses.

“Are you afraid, Moses?” It made me think of that first time, when I’d taunted him to pet Sackett. But I wasn’t taunting him. Not at all. I wanted to know how he was feeling.

“No. But I don’t want them to be afraid.” He looked at me. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“I’m not.” I answered immediately. I heard Lucky whinny behind me and Sackett snorted as if he doubted the veracity of my claim.

“You are,” he said.

“I am,” I admitted on a sigh. “This is important to me. So I’m nervous.” And as soon as I owned it, the fear left me. I reached for his other hand so that we stood facing each other, our hands locked.

“We’re just going to stand right here, and you’re going to hold my hands,” I said.

Moses put his chin down on his chest and took a deep breath.

“What?” I asked softly.

“I feel like a child. I don’t want to feel like a child with you.”

“I don’t see you that way.” Truer words were never spoken. His hands engulfed mine and the contact was heady, almost to the point that I wanted to close my eyes so the room wouldn’t spin.

“Okay. Then I don’t want you to see me as someone you need to fix.”

I shook my head, but I felt the swell and pull of grief expanding my chest and stinging my eyes and was grateful for the shadowed arena that we stood in the center of. The sun was almost down and light dappled the perimeter with soft squares of sunset gold, but the center where we stood was dark and I could feel the horses behind me waiting, patiently waiting, always waiting. Their soft huffs and knickers were a solace to me.

“I never wanted to fix you. Not ever. Not the way you mean.”

“How then?”

“Back then, I just wanted you to be able to love me back.”

“Cracks and all?”

“Don’t say that,” I protested, hurting the way I always did when I thought about the way his life began.

“It’s the truth, Georgia. You have to come to terms with who I am. Just like I did.” His voice was so low and soft that I watched his lips so I wouldn’t miss anything.

Again, I felt the horses behind me. I felt them shift and then I felt a soft nudge at my back, and then again, stronger.

“Calico wants you to move closer,” Moses breathed. I stepped closer. Calico nudged once more, until my body was separated from Moses by only a few inches. Calico brought her head past my shoulder and huffed softly, her breath lifting the loose hair around my face. Moses’s eyes were wide, but his breath was steady and his hands stayed still and loose around my own. Then Calico moved around us and brought her body up flush against Moses’s back. And she stood with her head down, her eyes half-closed and her body still. Moses could feel her there, but he couldn’t see her. I felt the tremor in his hands and watched him swallow as his eyes moved past mine to where Sackett hovered nearby. And then Sackett was at my back, the side of his body pressing into me, supporting me, as if he and Calico had aligned themselves head to tail to keep the flies at bay. But Moses and I stood in between, sheltered by their massive bodies in the quiet shadows of the rapidly falling dusk.

“Can I ask you something?” I whispered, my heart pounding so hard I wondered if he could feel the vibrations in my hands.

“Sure.” His voice was as soft as mine.

“Did you ever love me?” Maybe it was unfair to ask, with two 1200 pound truth detectors pinning us between them, but I couldn’t hold the words back any more. “I loved you. I know deep down you don’t really believe I did. You don’t believe I could. But I loved you.”

“Georgia.” My name was almost a groan on his lips and I felt the tears spill over my eyes and hurry down my cheeks, eager to be free of the pressure that was building in my head. And then his arms were around me, drawing me up into him as if drawing strength from the Paint at his back.

“Why didn’t you stay away from me?” he choked. “I told you so many times to go away. But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let me be. And I hurt you. I created this situation. I did. Do you know that I have lost every person I love? Everyone. And just when I started to hope, to think maybe things could be different with you, Gi died. And she proved me right. And I wasn’t going to let you get anywhere near me. I was in a mental hospital, Georgia! A mental hospital. For three months. And I wasn’t going to let that touch you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to save you. I didn’t come back because I was trying to save you . . . from me! Don’t you get that?”

I shook my head fiercely, hiding my face in his chest, letting the soft cotton of his T-shirt mop up my tears. I hadn’t understood that. I had thought he was rejecting me, pushing me away like he always did. I hadn’t understood. But now I did. And the knowledge swept up all my broken pieces and sealed them once again. There was healing in his words, and I wrapped my arms around him too, holding him as he held me, abandoning resistance. His body was hard against mine, firm, solid, welcome, and I let myself lean into him in a way I never had, comforted and confident that he wouldn’t let me fall. The horses shifted, and I felt Sackett shudder as if he acknowledged my relief. Calico whinnied softly and brushed her soft nose across Moses’s shoulder, and I realized then that I was not the only one trembling.

“Thou shall paint. Thou shall leave and never look back. Thou shall not love.” Moses spoke against my hair. “Those were my laws. As soon as I was free, out of school, out of the system, I was gone. I wanted nothing more than to paint and run. Paint and run. Because those were the only two things that made life bearable. And then came you. You and Gi. And I started thinking about breaking a law or two.” My heart was thundering against my chest as he forced the words out, and I pressed my lips together so the sob building in my throat would not break free at the wrong second and muffle the words I desperately wanted to hear.

“In the end, Georgia, I only broke one. I loved,” he said simply, clearly, unequivocally.

He loved.

And just like that, Calico shifted and drifted away, lumbering toward the last rays of sunshine spilling through the far door that led out to the corral. Sackett followed behind her, moving slowly, his long nose snuffling along the ground as he moseyed, leaving me and Moses alone, wrapped in each other’s arms as if their work here was done.

“Who are you, Moses? You aren’t the same. I never thought there was any way I could love you again.” There were tears streaming down my face, but I didn’t wipe them away. “You didn’t know how to love. I don’t know what to do with this Moses.”

“I knew how to love. I loved you then. I just didn’t know how to show you.”

“So what happened?” I asked.

“Eli. Eli happened. And he is showing me how,” he answered softly.

He didn’t raise his head from my hair, and I was grateful. I needed a moment to find my response. I knew if I looked at him with pity or fear, or even disbelief, what we were building would crumble. And I knew then, if I was going to love him, really love him, not just want him or need him, I was going to have to come to terms with who he was.

So I pressed my lips against Moses’s neck and I whispered. “Thank you, Eli.”

I heard Moses’s swift intake of breath and he held me tighter.

“I loved you then, Georgia. And I love you still.”