Learning to Fall Page 11

  “Of course you will. How can you even say that?” I laughed. “Come on, Chris. What could be so bad?”

  Chris didn’t look at me.

  “You two go through this every couple of years, some misunderstanding comes up, but she always comes around.”

  “Not this time. She’s set on me doing hunters, probably for the rest of my fucking life. I want to move on. Want to do my own thing. But mother’s invested money into it. So now mother won’t support me doing jumpers.” Chris crossed his hands across his chest. “She’s talking all kinds of bullshit. Said she doesn’t want me home for Thanksgiving. Of course my father won’t stand up to her.” Chris balled his fist, and punched a pillow. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking. Why do you think I had to get this job? She says she’s not going to pay for De Salle’s upkeep anymore, and she’s put my other two horses up for sale at that crappy sales barn.”

  Finally I understood. “You just have to give her time. She’ll come around, especially once she sees how well you’re doing in jumpers. Come on, Chris. You’re her only son . . . her reason for living. All she ever talks about to anyone, anywhere, is you.” And it was true. I knew from Dad that as a young woman, Chris’s mother had been on the circuit for years, both on the East Coast and in California. She lived and breathed horses—and then once Chris was born, it was only about him. She had Chris showing in lead-line classes at five. Small pony hunters by eight. By eleven she purchased three top champion ponies so that he’d have every advantage. Even after he started college, he always had a string of at least three, frequently four horses. Most of them imported from Europe from top champion stallions. She could afford it. She came from money, and Chris’s father was a venture capitalist, one of the first to invest in Microsoft. Even though Chris thought his father was henpecked, I’d seen him try to step in on many occasions, to say Chris needed to work for the horses. But his mother would laugh it off. Chris was hers to do with as she pleased, and no son of hers would work for a living. Until now. Now that he wanted to do his own thing.

  Chris stared into the distance, the candlelight reflecting in his pupils. “Let’s forget about it. I meant to talk to you about something else tonight. I’ve been thinking, wouldn’t it be great if while you were at vet school I helped out with your clients? Maybe we could train together? Chris and Brynn: the unstoppable team.”

  Chris sat up now, the sheet falling around his hips. “Picture this.” He waved his arms in a dramatic gesture. “We train out of Redwood, and we bring in a bunch of new students. With my name behind the barn, the place will be packed! Between my training, and your facilities—well, actually we’d have to build another barn, but that’s okay. That’s just details. We could easily add temporary stalls, say, take out an equity loan on the ranch. Your mom would go for that, don’t you think? She’s always liked me. If we brought forward a business plan? A proposal?” Chris beamed, his cheeks flushed. “You’re good with numbers. We can sell the idea to her. I know we can. It’ll be so fucking sweet!”

  I stiffened. Through the open skylight, the black sky studded with shimmering stars lay above us. “I think you should talk to your mother,” I said, twisting the silk sheet in my hands, then letting it fall loose again, flattening it across my belly. “You know, family is the only thing that lasts forever. And your mother will back you. She always has.”

  Chris sat back down on his heels, narrowing his eyes, pacing his breath. “You just need time to think about it. Sorry I dropped it on you so out of the blue, and you’re still probably deciding what to do with the will money.” He leaned down to get his underwear from the floor.

  Will money? Holy shit. Chris thought I’d come into money, and had no idea the dire straits we were in. “No, no. It’s not that—”

  “Well, it’s just an idea, and we can talk about things later. Let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving.” Chris pulled on his jeans and shirt and gave me a big smile. “Where do you want to go for dinner? My treat.”

  I had to hold back the urge to punch a pillow of my own. Our financial crisis was still a secret, so how the hell would he feel if he knew we had no money, and in the near future possibly no barn? No Redwood Grove Stables? Where might we be then?

  The following week I sat listening to the 8:00 a.m. lecture on Equine Surgery and Lameness at the Davis School of Veterinary Medicine. Naturally I had chosen to specialize in equine medicine, and I was especially keen on this elective. Most of fourth year involved hands-on learning through the Veterinary Teaching Hospital, clinics, and working out in the field. I’d taken so many theoretical classes during the first three years that the handful of classes I had now seemed to be a breeze.

  Many of my classmates complained about the early start time, but it wasn’t getting to class early that was the problem: I was up by six, ran, showered, drank a double espresso, grabbed a high-protein breakfast—normally some power bar—and I was ready to roll by seven thirty. My apartment was only a five-minute drive from the vet-school buildings, good for days I was on call. No, it wasn’t the early morning. It was that now, whenever I sat in class, I dreamt of riding Jett across rolling hills and pastures at Redwood Grove, and increasingly dreamt of the adrenaline rush of going over bright-colored jumps at a show. I wondered how I could make Chris’s dream of us working together work.

  Professor Dixon made her way across the floor at the front of the lecture hall, black-brown curls bouncing as she walked. How did she manage to always look so put together? Enthusiastic, young—for a professor anyway—and definitely engaging, she was my favorite.

  I looked up at the board, typing frantically on my laptop, trying to catch up to what she’d been talking about, knowing I’d have to ask someone for help later. She spoke clearly, involving the class, energizing the sleepy room. She was like a spokesmodel for animal surgery. She made the material sound more exciting than climbing Mount Everest. I wished I shared her enthusiasm. Ever since I was eight or so I’d been watching minor procedures whenever one of the horses needed attending to, and I had enjoyed medicine. Enjoyed helping injured horses. “She’s got guts,” I once overheard Uncle Ian say to my dad after I had helped assist him in suturing an especially gruesome deep cut. I hadn’t flinched, even though the flesh had ripped straight to the bone of the leg, the tissue shredded, difficult to stitch.

  “She does—just not necessarily in the right place,” Dad had responded.

  He probably never realized I’d heard, and how deeply the disappointment in his voice had hurt me.

  But now I wondered if maybe I’d made a mistake. Maybe I should have followed Dad’s advice and spent time training with him. After all, he was the best rider I’d ever seen, and now I’d never have that chance again.

  Professor Dixon walked across the front of the room, her lips moving, and I tried to focus. At least finally, this year we would have mostly hands-on experience. I’d have a chance to be around horses again.

  “And with that, we’ll see you at the clinic on Friday. Don’t forget to look up the tutorial online.” The class murmured, laptops shut, backpacks shuffled as students started to get up and leave, Professor Dixon breezed out of the hall.

  “Hey, Chad.” I tapped my classmate who sat in front of me on the shoulder. “Would you mind sending me your file with the notes on this? I think I missed a couple of pages.” I gave him an apologetic look.

  “No problem. Hey, you wanna go out with us Friday? We’re headed to Maestro’s for drinks. The gang wants to go dancing. We’re thinking The Red Door at ten.” His eyes sparkled in the lecture-hall lights, and I felt bad that I never returned his obvious affection. We had tried dating for a bit back in undergrad, but I just never felt that way about him.

  “Wish I could,” I said. “I have to head home Friday. Our barn has a show to go to at the end of October, and I need to make sure they’re ready.”

  “Bummer. I hope you won’t be missing out on all the class activities like you did last year.”

 
As I walked out of the teaching pavilion I thought back to Chad’s words. I wasn’t missing out. I wasn’t into drinking and partying. I hated the lack of control I felt with alcohol, and then the hangovers—the pounding headaches, the chills. Who needed that? And what of the wasted hours that I could have used for riding instead?

  I lifted my face to the October sunshine. The intense summer heat had finally let up, and now it hovered around seventy-five degrees.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket.

  Derek’s name popped up on my display. “Good morning, Derek. What’s up?” I said, happy to hear from him. A touch of home.

  “Something’s going on, B. A trailer just pulled in. The driver says he’s here to get Corinne’s horses.”

  “What? That’s not possible—” I thought back to my conversations with Corinne, and whether she’d mentioned a clinic.

  “What do you want me to do?” Derek sounded panicked.

  “Don’t let him load them. I’ll call you right back.” I hung up and dialed Corinne’s number. She didn’t answer.

  My phone chimed. A text message from Corinne:

  Sorry. Moving horses today. We’ll talk later.

  I stared at the phone, blinking. Moving? Just a few weeks ago we’d all had such a great day. Kennedy. I’d be losing Kennedy. I stopped in the middle of the path, and students ran into me.

  “Watch it!” someone yelled.

  This explained why she and Kennedy had missed lessons. And all the recent questions about lesson times during the week, whether we were going to get a better wash rack installed, when would we get another groom.

  I had to get home. I had to stop her. I hurried to my car, while dialing Corinne again. Voice mail.

  “Corinne? It’s Brynn. Not sure what’s going on, but can we talk? I’m sure we can figure things out. Please, please call me. I’ll be home this afternoon and would love to talk in person.” I hung up, my voice shaking, my heart racing. I half ran to my car, then remembered Derek.

  I dialed his number. “Derek. You can let the horses go.”

  Silence.

  “Derek? You there?” I pulled my phone away to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

  “Is she paid up?” came his quiet voice.

  “She never falls behind.”

  “How are we going to deal, B?”

  “Not sure. She’s a reasonable woman. I’ll talk to her,” I said.

  Derek didn’t respond.

  “Keep anyone you see calm. I’ll be home by noon.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Oh. And Derek?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you see my mom, don’t say anything.”

  I sped west along I-80, praying there were no cops on the road, pushing my little Honda as fast as it would go. Losing four horses from our training program would be devastating. I calculated in my head the income we earned each month, each dollar necessary for our survival.

  “How could this be happening?” I said out loud. I had thought I was managing the clients well while still attending school. Of all the scenarios, I hadn’t considered losing anyone.

  Helena. Was she thinking of leaving too? Who else? My heart raced. I realized I’d passed all the cars in the other lanes, and I looked down at the speedometer. I was doing almost ninety. I took my foot off the gas.

  I had to talk to Corinne to find out what was going on.

  As if on cue, the phone rang.

  “Corinne,” I answered, placing the call on speaker while trying to balance my cell on my knee. Now would be the time I’d likely be pulled over for speeding and talking on my phone.

  “Brynn. I don’t know what to say—”

  “How about letting me know what happened? I thought everything was going great. You had some awesome shows this summer, and Dolce did so well in the last class you took him in.”

  “Things are fine. I just need more.”

  “What do you mean, more?” My voice came out high pitched and whiny.

  “You’re just not here often enough. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know school is your priority, and while you’re great, I need to be the priority. My kids and horses need to be the priority. I need you here one hundred percent.”

  I shook my head. “Corinne. I’m there for your Friday afternoon lessons, as well as Saturdays and Sundays. The horses are under excellent care the rest of the time.”

  “But you’re not here. Your dad was always here. And I can’t have our horses, our babies, with a substandard trainer on those days. No offense to Derek of course, but you know, he’s just a groom.”

  “Derek’s more than qualified,” I interjected, feeling tears of frustration fill my eyes. How could she possibly talk about him that way? He treated her horses, and every horse, as if it were his own.

  “His qualifications are not the point. My husband agrees.”

  “Your husband?” Now my voice had definitely risen two octaves. When had she ever listened to him? My eyes stung, my thoughts scrambled. “When it comes to horses, you’ve always done what you know is best,” I said in a much softer tone.

  “That’s right, Brynn. And what’s best for us is to leave and go to a better barn.” Her voice was cold. “We’ve got the medal finals coming up, and I know you’re a good trainer, but with Luke gone—”

  “Corinne, I—”

  “No. The decision’s final. We have too much invested in this hobby—this sport. We want the best. You don’t have the quality or professionalism we want. It’s not personal, Brynn. It’s just the truth.”

  I felt as if a horse had kicked me in the chest.

  “Mom! Kennedy won’t give me back my iPod!” The screaming rang out through my car.

  “I’ve gotta go, Brynn. I’m driving, and I have a meeting at the girls’ school. I’m already late. I’m head of the fund-raising committee again this year, and we have the Christmas gala coming up. Now with the move, I’m just swamped. We’ll chat soon.”

  “I think we—”

  “I have to go, Brynn. Hugs to your mother!”

  Silence, then some teeny pop song filled the car.

  I could barely see where I was going. The cars and lanes swam before me. Somehow I ended up in the far right lane. I scanned signs for the next exit. As soon as I got off the freeway I pulled onto the shoulder. Some asshole honked his horn behind me, and shook his hands at me as he drove past. I leaned my head on the steering wheel, placing my fists in between my knees to try to stop the shaking. I moved the transmission into park, staring blankly ahead. My eyes stung with unshed tears, my chest ready to explode. I tasted iron, drawing blood.

  Didn’t Corinne see all the sacrifices I made? How hard I busted my butt? After being with us for seven years, how could she leave?

  It’s not personal, she’d said. Better barn. Lack of professionalism. We deserve the best. Someone had been filling her head with nonsense. Corinne wouldn’t have said that on her own—or would she? Maybe Corinne longed for the high-end fancy barn, the shiny tack trunks, lots of grooms, high bills. God knew she had tons of money. She had been the CEO of a startup that had been bought out by Oracle. Instead of going to work at a new company, she had decided to take care of the kids. She had traded her business suit for the thrill of horseback riding. She’d boasted at a dinner once that the family could now retire, though her husband still worked as a CFO at a biotech company.

  “You can only be the best you can be.” My dad’s voice rang clear in my head. “Clients come, clients go.”

  “No! You’re wrong!” I cried into the emptiness of the car. Sure, clients had left in the past, but never four horses at a time and never when we were completely upside down on our mortgage. A big raindrop fell on the windshield. Then another. Soon the sound of rain enveloped me.

  I called Chris. I needed to talk to someone in the business, someone who knew what it was like to lose a client.

  When Chris came on the line, I burst into telling him what had happened. A silence greeted me. “Chris?
” I asked, but the line only crackled. “Chris?”

  “Brynn, I’m sorry to hear this, but I’m in the middle of a lesson. Can I call you back?”

  That was hardly the response I wanted or needed.

  I whispered that that was fine.

  “I’ll call you later.” Chris hung up, but not before I heard laughter in the background.

  I put the car in drive and merged back onto the highway. I had to compose myself before I saw Derek. He was no doubt freaking out, and he’d be looking to me for support. Right now I had to figure out what to do with the business. Corinne leaving was like opening an artery and letting our ranch bleed to death.

  By the time I pulled into Redwood Grove Stables, the sky had cleared and the place looked deserted. Water from large puddles splashed up as I drove through.

  I glanced toward the house. Mom’s old Volvo station wagon wasn’t in the driveway. I’d have some time to contemplate what I was going to tell her.

  Derek came out of the barn as I got out of the car. He looked small as he stood hunched in his green parka. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s leaving,” I said, as I slammed the hatch of my Civic shut.

  “I gathered that, but did you talk to her?”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t look him in the eye, but I felt his stare burn a hole in the back of my neck.

  “And?” He prodded, catching up to me as I stormed toward the barn.

  “She’s gone. She wants more.”

  “More what?” His voice seemed to shake.

  “Better trainers, more glitz, more attention.” I couldn’t keep the scorn out of my voice. I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Derek.” Then I realized that I sounded as doleful as he looked. I had to sound more confident, more sure of things.

  “We’re going to be fine.” The barn, and especially the tack room on my right, looked empty with Corinne’s trunks and tack gone. I pulled out my boots from my own tack trunk and sat to pull them on.