When Happily Ever After Ends (3 page)

This allowed trainer and rider to assess a horse’s basic nature. If he was too headstrong, he and his rider would struggle over who would be in control. If he wasn’t spirited enough, he’d never survive the rigors of continuous competition. “That’s right,” her dad urged, “let him adjust his stride.”

Shannon felt Black’s powerful muscles tighten, his front legs lift, and his body sail effortlessly over the series of fences. She reined him in and patted his sweat-flecked neck. “Good boy!” she told him over and over. As a seasoned rider, she knew how important verbal praise was in the training process. “What do you think?” she asked her dad, who was standing beside the fence, studying the big chestnut-colored horse.

“He looks good from here. I like the way he rocks back on his hocks when he starts his jump.”

Shannon knew this was a good sign because it meant that Blackwatch would use his hind end more than his front, thus giving him more power in taking higher hurdles. A horse with insufficient hind end power might understride and “reach” as he
jumped—an unsightly midair stretch for which judges deducted points.

“I want your mother to watch you,” her father announced. “She needs to be in on this training from the beginning.”

“Really?” Shannon asked, puzzled. Her mother had many students, but her father always handled Shannon’s training. The bond between them was special, as if they were able to read one another’s thoughts when it came to horses and riding.

“She needs to be, this time,” Shannon’s dad insisted. “It’s in your best interests, and it’s not open to debate.”

“Whatever you say, Dad. Mom’s in the barn.”

“I’ll go check.”

Uneasy about the tone of his voice, Shannon watched him walk away slowly, climb through the fence, and head toward the stables. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face and watched butterflies flutter over wildflowers in the adjoining grassy fields where horses grazed. She inhaled deeply, and her feelings of uneasiness evaporated. She slid off Black, who snorted and nibbled at her shirt pocket. He’d already learned she kept a stash of carrot chunks for rewards. “Take it easy,” she said with a laugh, handing him a bright orange morsel.

She saw Zack pitching hay through an open side door of the barn. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his lean, muscled body looked golden tan. They hadn’t spoken since her birthday, and she couldn’t help but
wonder if their encounter had been as special to him as it had been to her.

“Don’t drool.”

Startled, Shannon spun to see Heather on Fantasia. “You sneaked up on me.”

Heather dismounted, looped her reins over the top of the white fence, and climbed over the rail to stand beside Shannon. “I don’t blame you for staring,” Heather added, casting a longing look Zack’s way. “Just don’t act obvious if he sees you.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Shannon pushed Black’s nose away from her shirt pocket, flustered that Heather had caught her daydreaming. “What are you up to?”

“I thought maybe we could go riding on the bridle path after lunch.”

“Can’t. Dad’s working with me.”

“Where is he?”

“Oh, he went to get Mom. He’s decided that she should be part of my training process this time.”

“Does that mean you’ll be jumping Blackwatch in Nashville after all?”

“Why not? If he’s ready. Besides, he has to get used to the crowds sometime.”

Heather stooped, picked up a pebble, and flung it out of the ring. “Maybe we shouldn’t enter the same events.”

“Why not?” Shannon was surprised—they usually competed against one another, but it had never gotten in the way of their friendship. “It would only be for the form and style events anyway.”

“I wouldn’t want Fantasia to show him up,” Heather said.

Her tone was slightly teasing, but Shannon wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not. She felt annoyed. Overall, Black
was
a superior animal. Any person with an eye for horses could see that.

“It never bothered you when I was riding Pippin,” Shannon observed drily. She watched bright spots of color appear on Heather’s cheeks, and instantly, Shannon felt ashamed. “I didn’t mean to start an argument. But you’ve been acting like my getting a horse is a crime. You know how much I want to ride on a collegiate team. I need a first-rate horse if I’m going to do that. You enjoy riding, but it’s not your whole life.”

“I know,” Heather mumbled. “I was just disappointed because you can’t go riding with me right now.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Shannon told her, hoping to soothe her friend’s feelings. Why was Heather being so argumentative anyway? she wondered silently.

“I didn’t mean to be snobby about Zack either,” Heather added, casting a glance at the tall boy, still pitching hay.

Shannon let her gaze follow Heather’s and released a long sigh. “Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t know I’m alive.”

“But you said he talked to you.”

“I’m the boss’s daughter, remember?”

Heather nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Shannon couldn’t be sure, but she thought Heather sounded relieved that Zack had ignored her. “Here come my parents,” she said as her father and mother walked out of the barn. “Back to work.” Shannon mounted Black and Heather shimmied back over the fence. “See you tomorrow,” Shannon called.

“Sure,” Heather said glumly. “Tomorrow.”

Shannon didn’t have time to puzzle over Heather’s behavior. Her parents arrived and began rearranging the jumping course. “Let’s see how he does with more distance between the jumps,” her father called.

“We should have some solid walls if it’s to be a valid test of Black’s ability,” her mom declared. “Why didn’t you bring any solid ones out, Paul?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Shannon said, surprised by her father’s oversight. Some horses took open fences easily, but shied from solid-looking barriers. “We should have thought about that.”

His expression darkened, followed by a look of confusion. “You’re right—I should have.…” He seemed upset as he let the sentence trail. Shannon and her mother waited for him to adjust the course, but he only stood and shook his head. “I’m no good at this anymore,” he told them. “No good at all.”

“What do you mean?” his wife asked. “Of course, you are.”

“I’ve had it for today. Kathleen, take over. I’m going in. There’s a lot I have to get done.”

“But Paul—”

“But Daddy—”

He held up his hand. “I’m sorry. I thought I could face this today, but I can’t. You two go on without me.”

Still sitting on her horse, Shannon watched him walk away. “What should we do, Mom?”

Her mother looked anxious. “Just a minute,” she told Shannon and darted after her husband. Shannon watched them, unable to hear what they were saying. After a minute, her mother patted her father’s back and he walked, stoop-shouldered, toward the house. Her mother began to rearrange the jumping course.

Shannon reined Black around and walked him to the far side of the ring. She realized that they had to keep going with the session, but she felt hurt because her dad had walked away without explanation. Her mother had told her that he was depressed, and she vaguely remembered other times when he’d retreated behind a wall of silence, forcing his family away from him.

She’d been busy with school and Pony Club and had always shrugged it off as “one of Daddy’s moods.” Perhaps he just needed some time to himself. She made a silent promise not to bother him about helping with Black for the next few days. He’d get better. Mom had said so.

Later that evening, just before supper, Shannon strolled down to the barn. Twilight had fallen and gray, murky shadows filled every crevice of the big
building. She let her eyes adjust to the gloomy darkness, then checked to make sure Black had feed and water for the night.

She heard a noise and caught her breath. She wasn’t alone. Shannon eased her way down the corridor between the stalls, where the horses were settled in for the night. The muffled sounds had come from the tack room. “Who’s here?” she called. At the door of the room where the riding gear was kept and her father had a small office with a desk and cot, she paused. “Anybody here?” She peered into the dark, straining to see through the shadows. She reached for the light switch.

“Don’t turn on the light,” her father’s voice commanded. His tone—harsh, cold, and demanding—made her gasp and jump backward.

“You scared me,” Shannon said. “Were you asleep?”

“No … just resting.”

Shannon felt a flicker of fear leap inside her. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m not sick,” he insisted and rolled on his side so that his back was facing her.

Shannon sat down on the cot and fished in her pocket. “I’ve got some carrots if you’re hungry.” She hoped her joke would make him smile.

“Shannon, I really want to be alone right now.”

“Is it something I did? Are you mad at me?”

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He raised himself up to a semisitting position.

She felt reluctant to leave him and tried to think of something that would wipe the sad expression from his face. “Daddy, maybe after supper we could watch TV together and talk about a regular training schedule for Black.” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Are you sure you’re all right, Daddy?”

Slowly, his eyes focused on her. “Sometimes it’s hard to think about schedules and competing. Sometimes
all I want to do is go to Shangri-la. Do they teach you about places like that in school?”

Wide-eyed, Shannon asked, “What do you mean?”

“Shangri-la is a city where people are always happy—where there’s never any sickness or war or dying. It’s paradise on earth.” His voice had taken on a soft, whispering quality.

“Sure, I’ve heard of it, but it’s just make-believe.”

He touched her cheek. “Yes. Make-believe. But wouldn’t it be nice if it was real?”

“Daddy, what are we talking about?”

He dropped back against the cot and flung his arm across his eyes. “ ‘I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space were it not that I have bad dreams.’ Do you know who wrote that, Shannon?” She didn’t, so he said, “Shakespeare in
Hamlet
. I know what he’s talking about.”

“Are you saying that you have nightmares?”

“Life’s a bad dream.”

The words stung Shannon. She’d always believed that life was wonderful.
He
had taught her that through the years. “You scare me when you talk that way. I don’t understand. Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

He swung his legs over the side of the cot and braced his forearms against his knees. “Don’t be frightened. I’ve got a lot on my mind—that’s all. Go on up to the house and eat supper with your mother.”
He patted her leg and forced a smile. “I’d just like to be alone for a while. That’s the only thing that helps.”

It didn’t seem logical to her. How could being alone make him feel better? Whenever she got the blues, she tried to keep busy and be around friends because it helped her not to dwell on her mood. Hesitantly, she rose. “If you really want to be by yourself—” She tried one more time to talk to him. “I’m really counting on you to help me with Black, Dad. I need you. There’s just so much I can do without you.”

He raked his hand through his thinning hair with a sigh. “Maybe next week, all right? I have important things to get in order.”

She swallowed down her disappointment. She’d always thought
she
was one of his most important things. Looking over her shoulder, half hoping he would ask her to come back, she left him alone in the shadows.

Her father had been the one who’d taught her how to properly groom a horse, how to set up a jumping course in the exercise ring; and it was he who stood ringside as she performed for judges during various riding events. Her grandmother always called him “the cheerleader without pom-poms.” Now that he needed cheering up, Shannon didn’t know how to do it. He simply wasn’t interested in the things he’d always loved and cared about.

As darkness settled in the barn, she realized that she’d been gone longer than she’d intended. She jogged to the house. “Dad said to eat without him,”
she reported to her mother as she came into the brightly lit kitchen.

Her mother scooped macaroni and cheese onto a plate, but Shannon noticed that she looked worried and preoccupied. Shannon sat down and shoved the food around her plate. “Dad acts like he’s not very interested in working with Black,” she said quietly.

“He’ll help,” her mother said with a smile of encouragement. “You’re a wonderful rider, Shannon. We bought this horse because we both believe you have a real future as an equestrian. You need a quality horse if you plan to get to the top.”

“But if Daddy won’t work with me—”

“He will,” her mother insisted. “Give him some time to get over this little spell.”

“But why does he have these bad moods?”

“Everybody has mood swings.”

“I know, but—”

Her mother interrupted. “Look, it’s obvious that you’re not a little kid anymore, Shannon. When you were younger, it was easy to cover up your dad’s ‘bad days.’ They always pass.”

“But Dad seems to have them more and more often. Why?”