Learning to Fall Page 16

  “I already told you. I want to win.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  What was I supposed to reveal? I had to support the ranch, I had to prove myself, I had to gain clients. I had made a promise to my Dad.

  “I just have to,” I said, taking a sip of my cappuccino, feeling the foam on my lip, and wiping it away with a napkin. Jason didn’t take his eyes off me.

  “What do you need to prove?”

  “I just need to win. I need to get respect from people. To keep clients, to keep the money coming in.”

  “What about vet school? Isn’t that your career goal?” Jason continued. “Must have been serious to leave right at the end. You don’t strike me as a quitter.”

  I gave a half laugh, shaking my head. I was a quitter, always scared of failing. He had me pegged all wrong. “Career goal.” I mulled over his question. No one but Dad had ever made me defend my choices—and I’d never had that conversation with him. “Yes. I guess it is my career goal, or I thought it was. But Redwood Grove, my mom, Jett—they all need me more than vet school does.” Then quietly I said, thinking out loud: “Who knows, maybe I was supposed to ride Jett all along.”

  “Interesting.” Jason leaned in, his forehead furrowed. “So you were meant to do this.”

  I gave a nervous laugh again. “I don’t know. I’m meant to do this right now. Does that help? I mean I like the idea of everything that being a vet stands for. I like the security and stability it provides. But I have this”—I struggled to find the right word—“this need. A calling. I really need to be with Jett, to challenge myself, challenge him, to fulfill my father’s dreams. I feel like his dreams have become my dreams.” I shifted my weight.

  “Or maybe they were always yours.”

  I glanced down at the table, at my hands, so much like Dad’s. I had never spoken like this to anyone. Jason reached over and held the tips of my fingers in his, his touch feather-light, the point of contact so small, yet so comfortable. I pulled my fingers back, remembering Chris, wondering what he’d think if he’d seen us, how I’d feel if the situation was reversed.

  Yet Chris and I had never been able to be like this, and with him, I always felt like there were big decisions to be made, or places to go, or things to do. We could never just be. Was that why I’d never told him anything like this before?

  When I got home, I walked down to the barn to do my night check of the horses. Mom had left the small light above the kitchen sink on for me before heading to her night shift at the retirement home. Even though she was angry with me, I knew she cared. I knew her actions were fear-based. She had her own anger and resentment to work through. I knew all this, but none of it made it easier. I felt as if I’d lost two parents that fateful night.

  I filled a glass with water and sat, sipping. I luxuriated in the memory of the evening. How strange it had all been. Waiting for Chris, then running into Jason. I thought of Jason’s fingers on mine: warm, electric, familiar, then pushed the thought away, playing it up to some strange phenomenon of having a close working relationship together.

  On the counter lay two letters. I skimmed the top one, from the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine. It was from Dr. Dixon saying that the director of admissions, under the recommendation of Dr. Finlay and the faculty, had agreed to a temporary leave of absence and, given space in the program, might allow me to finish off my schooling the following year. I breathed a sigh of relief, yet felt torn. Would I be able to go back? Would we be okay financially by then? I placed the letter down.

  The accountant’s name caught my eye on the second letter. Our barn account was overdrawn. I dropped the paper on the counter, sitting down, putting my head in my hands. How were we going to get through the rest of the winter and spring until I won some money? If I won money. My glass of water almost slipped from my hands.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t think that way. I had to win. I had to win something at all the shows, but most importantly, I had to win the Gold Cup. Otherwise everything Dad had worked for—everything I now worked for—would be gone.

  I walked Jett out of the huge Grand Prix arena at Thermal. Helena and her daughter, Payton, were the only clients showing at the show, since Lani wasn’t ready for the level of classes at Thermal, though Mai and Lani came to cheer the Redwood Grove Stable team on. Jason, Derek, and I had trailered Effy, Ness, and Jett. The mid-February sun had risen overhead in the too-blue sky, and the breeze that had almost blown our tent over the evening before had now died down, leaving the palm trees to stand at attention as if they were made of plastic. Even though the temperature was only in the low seventies, sweat poured in between my shoulder blades and my cream polo clung to my back.

  “That was a fantastic round!” Jason said as I exited, patting Jett’s neck.

  “It felt fantastic,” I said, drinking the air in gulps. “But, holy crap, the jumps were much farther apart than I expected. I thought we’d collapse partway through. We needed way more stamina than I thought.” The euphoria of showing Jett was infinitely better than I’d remembered. Both the boring and grueling days of training had all been worth it.

  “Here, B. Have some water.” Derek handed me a cup.

  My words rushed out. “It really came together, like we both sensed what the other was thinking. Jett paid attention to what I asked for, giving it to me before I even had to ask.” I looked back at the arena, catching a glimpse of the next rider flying over the large Mount Rushmore jump. The horse knocked a rail, and the trainer next to me groaned, then yelled, “Get your speed up!” Riders and trainers stood around, most still in their britches and tall boots, burrito or sandwich in hand, gobbling their food in big bites while watching the show.

  “It’s what you’ve been working toward, Brynn,” Jason said quietly. Something in the way he said it made me look down at him. His lips parted as if to say something else, his strong jaw line shadowed by a couple of days’ worth of stubble. It had been three weeks since the night at Patterson’s, and Jason and I had continued a very professional relationship, early morning yoga sessions followed by jumping lessons. Yet as he placed his hand on my boot, I could feel the heat of his hand even through the leather.

  “I’m proud of you,” Jason said.

  I nodded, unsure of how to respond.

  “Hey! Great round!”

  I twisted in my saddle. Chris walked toward us from behind one of the hundreds of palm trees planted around the show grounds, his thumbs tucked into his breeches.

  I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling as if I’d been caught, and I wondered if he had seen Jason put his hand on my boot. It was innocent enough, but I couldn’t ignore Jason’s touch, nor my response. “Chris, did you see it? Wasn’t he absolutely amazing?” I leaned forward, patting Jett’s sweaty neck.

  “Only saw the last jump. Sorry.” He cocked his head, giving me his apologetic smile.

  “I can’t get over how wonderful he was.” I hopped down. “We might get that Cup after all. Won’t we, buddy?” Jett neighed, as if in response. Derek and I laughed, then Derek took the reins. “That’s why we’re here, B. To show them what you’ve got.”

  I rubbed Jett’s nose before Derek walked him back to his stall.

  Chris eyed Jason. “Good job,” Chris finally said, nodding, but his voice held an edge. The two hadn’t seemed to warm to each other, and in fact, Chris had started to show up unannounced during my lessons with Jason. He’d bring me a large mocha, or lunch from Yakima’s or fish tacos from Sausalito Taco Shop, which all seemed sweet, but I couldn’t help but feel he was checking in on me.

  “Any more classes today?” Chris asked, laying his arm across my shoulders.

  “Done for now. We don’t have that many horses.” Helena and Payton had shown in the smaller classes earlier that morning.

  “Right,” Chris said, as if losing Corinne and her horses hadn’t been my main concern and what I constantly brought up in our conversations over the last couple of months.

>   Jason acknowledged Chris but now shifted away.

  “Your round on De Salle looked amazing.” I changed the subject, taking off my helmet. “I stopped my warm-up to watch. You guys are on fire.”

  “Yeah, he was good. Probably the best I’ve ever had. But at this level, you need a string of De Salles. A minimum of three. Six would be ideal.” He flicked some dust off his shoulder. “I’m working on it, though. Those investors I mentioned last week? Well, it just so happens they’re here, and guess who just ran into them? Your one and only.” He straightened, lifting his chin, flashing one eyebrow. “They’re up for a meeting next week. Now we’re talking about a syndicate. Really, I should have thought about that earlier—it’s the only way to go.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “That’s really, really great.” And I tried to mean it. To be happy for him and not to let the fact that I only had one, unproven horse, bother me. It was true—to get to the top you really did need more than one horse, to deflect the risk of something going wrong. If Jett ever got injured, we’d be out of the running for the Cup. I sighed. No matter how happy I was for Chris, he would always be my competition, and how would we ever work around that? I glanced up at the scoreboard. “I think you’re still in the lead, Chris.”

  “And you, little one, are not too far behind.”

  Sure enough, my name lit up on the scoreboard—Jett and I were in second place.

  Jason studied the scoreboard, then me. “Nice round, kid. I’m going to go help Derek out. So I’ll see you shortly to go over the plan for tomorrow’s class?” He touched his hand to the small of my back, then quickly pulled it away.

  I couldn’t help but wish we were alone. I wanted to hear his honest thoughts, to analyze each and every jump, to strategize for next time. “With over fifty riders to go I’m not going to get my hopes up,” I said.

  Jason smiled. “You’re learning not to be attached to the outcome.”

  Chris stepped closer to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Well, let’s get some grub while we wait for the results. I’m starving.”

  I glanced up at Jason. “Well, actually, I’ve already made plans.”

  “Jason? Derek? No problem! They can join. We’ll eat up at the VIP tent. I’ve got a table.”

  “You two go. I need to make a call anyway,” Jason said.

  “See? It’s all good.” Chris smiled that wide grin, then nuzzled my neck, whispering into my hair. “By the way, I’m sure you were stupendous. Sorry I missed most of your round.”

  Jason turned away, starting toward the barns while Chris held a hand on my elbow, leading me toward the VIP tent. I halted, turning back. “Hey, Jason!” I called after him. “Thank you!”

  He tipped his hat, then he mouthed, “Sukhino Bhavantu.” A shift in the wind kicked up desert sand, sending it into a small twister right in front of me. I covered my eyes with my hand, and by the time I looked up again, he was gone.

  Fifty-three rides later, Derek and I stood at the gate. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the results of our Sunset Five Thousand Grand Prix! First place: Chris Peterson on De Salle. Second place: Roman Kuzara on I Should Be So Lucky. Third goes to Vivian Young on Love’s First Trip. Fourth to Brynn Seymour on Victory by Heart. Fifth to Holly Davidoff . . .” I tuned out the rest, jumping up and down, throwing my arms around Derek. I could get used to hearing Jett’s and my names over the loudspeakers.

  “Where’s Jason?” I asked Derek, scanning the crowd.

  “Gone home. Said he had a family thing,” Derek said as he fumbled for something in his pockets.

  “Is it his niece? Did he say anything about his niece?” I ran after Derek, who was already walking ahead.

  “No, didn’t say anything. I drove him to the Palm Springs airport at lunch.” Derek opened a tiny bottle of rum, no doubt from the hotel minibar, and lifted it in a toast. He took a long drink.

  I pulled out my phone.

  “Doubt you’ll reach him now.” Derek looked up at the sky. “He’s probably in the air as we speak. Said his flight was at three.” He handed me the bottle of rum. I shook my head.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “You know Jason. Always quiet and absorbed in thought and all that. It’s not like he’s going to open up to me.”

  I wished I could be with Jason, to make sure he was all right.

  “C’mon! Let’s celebrate!” Derek said, putting his arm around me, pulling me along.

  That was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “You don’t have a choice,” Derek said, sensing my hesitation.

  Dinner was at Hog’s Breath Inn. Chris said he’d meet us there—he was getting a ride with Roman. Derek and I walked arm in arm through the lobby toward the taxi stand. Nearing the exit I noticed Vivian, alone, at the bar, in a sapphire strapless mini dress. I scanned the area for Corinne, or one of her other clients, but no one was around.

  “Hold up a sec,” I said to Derek, then crossed the lobby to the bar.

  “Great ride today,” Vivian said, as she took a sip of her martini.

  “Thanks.” I glanced down at the carpet. “You had an excellent round too.”

  “You know Love’s First Trip is incredible, but Seraphim is my favorite. I can’t wait to show her.”

  Bitch. I had to bite my tongue.

  “She has a fierce spirit. But I like a good fighter, otherwise things get so boring.” She rolled her eyes, then took another sip of her drink, wavering slightly on her stool.

  Derek was outside the glass doors already, a cab door open. He waved at me to hurry up. “Well, I guess I’ll see you—”

  “I didn’t know she was going to move to my barn.”

  I paused.

  “I didn’t steal Corinne. She came because she wanted to.” Vivian’s emerald eyes glittered in the low light. Even when she sat on a bar stool I was barely her height. “I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

  Somewhere in the back of her eyes I noted loneliness, sadness. I nodded. My kinder side gave way. “We’re going to Hog’s Breath. Do you want to join?”

  Vivian turned back to the bar, taking another sip of her martini.

  I started to walk away.

  “Why the hell not?” Vivian stood, grabbing her silver clutch off the bar. “I’ll just cancel my plans,” she said, pulling out her smartphone, typing as we walked. I had to wonder whether she really had any.

  Roman, along with a couple of Chris’s groupies named Star and Madison, and Ruth Stubbs, Helena, and Mai were already at Hog’s Breath. Chris had saved me a seat and the waiter rushed to get an extra chair for Vivian.

  “Hey, Derek, where’s your boyfriend?” Roman asked.

  “Back in San Fran. He’s got a big case he’s working on.”

  “You off the leash then?” A peel of laughter rang out.

  “Hey, be careful! But, I am on vacay—and getting down tonight!”

  I lifted an eyebrow. This was not the Derek I knew. I hadn’t spent much time with him lately, too focused on myself, and made a mental note to find out what was going on with him and Bill.

  After dinner and dessert, and what appeared to be his fourth vodka tonic, Chris announced that it was time to go dancing in downtown Palm Springs. Star and Madison made pouty faces, since they were both only eighteen and without fake IDs they’d never make it into a club. Leaving them behind was fine with me, although I would have been happier going back to the hotel too. We all piled into a cab and ten minutes later, bass was pumping in my ears at a nightclub.

  Bleary-eyed, I stood off the dance floor, nursing my club soda. Derek found me, and leaned his elbows on the bar table next to me.

  “I’m ready to head home,” I said. “It’s almost two. Do you want to split a cab with me?”

  Derek’s face fell. “I’m just getting warmed up.” Sweat dripped from his long sideburns.

  I looked away, watching Vivian on the dance floor. She had her arm around Roman and the two of them laughed about something.

&
nbsp; “She’s trouble,” Derek said above the music.

  I gave him a puzzled look.

  “Mai just told me Corinne caught her rapping Sera.”

  The glass practically slipped from my hands. I kept my eyes on Vivian, grinding up against Roman.

  “I don’t believe it. Can’t be true.” I felt the steak I’d eaten turn in my stomach. Rapping horses was cause for disqualification in a show. I’d seen it done in old videos: the rider hits the horse’s legs with a pole or stick while the horse is midair to encourage it to jump higher. The injury was rarely visible, as the legs weren’t cut or wounded, but psychologically it was inhumane.

  “Yeah, it is, B. Supposedly one of Vivian’s ex-clients told Corinne they’d seen her do it—and not just to Sera but most of her high-level jumpers. And you know Corinne, she flipped out. Vivian denied everything. Since it hadn’t happened at a show, and technically since it wasn’t illegal as a pre-show training technique, Corinne can’t do a thing about it.”

  I didn’t know how to respond and when another song started, Derek smiled at me and said, “I’ve got a bit more dancing to do.” He clinked his glass to mine, then sashayed over to the dance floor, his cosmo high in the air.

  I found Chris in the corner of the bar, thronged by a crowd. I pushed my way through. He barely glanced at me as he prepared for more shots. I contemplated going over to him, but decided against it since he’d probably try to convince me to stay.

  In the privacy of the hotel room, I peeled off my clothes and stood in the shower, lifting my face, letting the water fall over my eyes and hair, enjoying the solitude. Tomorrow we’d drive home; I’d see Jason, and find out what happened with Eve. And then we’d start practicing for Del Mar, only two months away. Del Mar would be an indoor class with tighter turns and higher jumps. The competition would be much steeper than here and I had to get first or second or I wouldn’t have enough points to qualify for the Spruce Meadows show. Today’s fourth got me four points, but I had to get sixteen more to qualify. Sixteen more. And here I’d told Jason it wouldn’t be a problem.