Jump Off (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 22) Page 4

  “Hi guys,” I whispered.

  Bandit came to see me, all puffed up and full of himself like he wanted me to know that he’d taken really good care of his family all day. Chantilly looked tired but content. We’d been so lucky that she’d accepted our foal as her own. If anything good had come out of Bluebird’s illness, it had been that. A few stalls down Hashtag was staring out his back window with his head high and ears pricked like he’d seen something.

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  His muscles were tight and hard, ready to run, flee from the danger that was out there. I went to the end of the barn and looked out into the dusky light. Arion and Four were grazing peacefully and the lesson horses were out in their paddocks. No one else seemed worried. I went back in but Hashtag was still frozen in time.

  “I can’t see anything,” I told him.

  He ignored me. I wondered if he could sense the fact that Jess had almost ridden to victory without him today. That she’d blazed around the course on her latest acquisition, all thoughts of the time he spent with her forgotten. I knew she was out there somewhere at her own farm, tucked behind what used to be Sand Hill Equestrian Center, next door to the farm my father couldn’t afford to fix up, settling her new horse in her new barn. Although it was more likely that she had a live in groom to do that and she was probably up at her house getting massaged by some hot Swedish guy and being fed bonbons or something.

  “Forget about it,” I told Hashtag. “You don’t need her.”

  Eventually he gave up, his muscles unclenched and he went back to his hay. And I had my own demons waiting for me out there in the dark. Dad had already gone up to the house. The lights shone bright, yellow beacons blaring out the windows into the velvet night. I couldn’t hear any screaming. No one had obviously been killed yet but it was just a matter of time. Ex-wives and new girlfriends couldn’t live under the same roof. It wasn’t realistic or practical and my father should have known better. You didn’t put two stallions out in the same pen, just like you couldn’t put Missy and my mother under the same roof. They’d fight to the death. But I knew I couldn’t stay down at the barn forever. I was hungry and tired and I wanted a hot shower and my soft bed. I followed the stone path up to the house, wondering if my life was ever going to be the same again.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I walked up to the house, dragging my feet. If I didn’t have responsibilities like a recovering pony and all my other horses that still needed me, I would have run away. Gone to Mickey’s house and begged to stay there until the whole thing had blown over. I knew that it wouldn’t exactly have been the adult thing to do but the thing was that I wasn’t an adult, I was a teenager and as such I felt like my outrage was justified.

  I stood outside the front door, unable to open it. Meatball curled his fat, orange body around my legs and I scooped him up in my arms. He purred and butted my chin with his face.

  “Will you protect me?” I asked him.

  And I walked into the house with my cat armor intact, figuring that if someone said something stupid I could always toss the cat at them, claws out and hissing. But I didn’t. Instead I clutched Meatball to me like a security blanket.

  Owen was crying. His screams filled the house. Missy was holding him, jigging him up and down on her hip but it wasn’t helping because she was yelling at my father and just upsetting him more. Dad was sitting on one of the bar stools with his head in his hands, a weary man. But he’d brought it on himself so I only partly felt sorry for him. There was no sign of my mother or Cat.

  “Let me take him,” I said, pulling the baby out of Missy’s arms. “He doesn’t need to hear all this. You’re scaring him.”

  “Okay,” Missy said through rattling sobs.

  She was yelling and crying all at the same time, snot running down her face and mingling with her tears. In the movies when actresses cried it always looked so sad and haunting when they dabbed a tissue to the one tear that rolled down their pale cheek but in real life it was just a red, blotchy wet mess.

  “It’s okay,” I told Owen. “They’re not fighting about you.”

  But in a way they were. If Missy and my dad split up there would be custody battles over who would raise Owen. Who would have him for holidays and who would take him to school? He’d be stuck in the middle, torn in two or even worse, one of them would just give up and abandon him like my dad had done to me for all those years. I didn’t want that for my baby brother.

  I changed his diaper and rocked him in his swing for a little while. His eyes grew sleepy and just before he nodded off I scooped him up and put him in his crib. His eyes fluttered open for a moment but then he was out like a light, his tiny fists unclenching as he relaxed into sleep.

  I slipped out of the room and closed the door with a sigh. Dad and Missy were still arguing. I didn’t have the strength to stop and listen. Instead I went into my own room and closed the door, flipping on the light but I wasn’t alone. There on my bed were my mother and Cat, huddled together in the dark.

  “What are you doing in here?” I snapped.

  “Trying to sleep,” Cat said.

  “In my bed?” I said, feeling outraged. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

  “On the couch?” Cat said but her voice was meek and small.

  “How about you guys sleep on the couch? Or better yet go to a motel.”

  “We don’t have any money,” Cat said.

  “I’ll give you some money. In fact I’ll give you enough money to leave and never come back, how about that.”

  They just stared at me with blank faces. Mom didn’t say anything. She just stared at the floor. She couldn’t even talk to me and yet she wanted me to make room for her in my life. There was a purple bruise on her cheek bone, no doubt Derek’s handy work. Marrying him had been one of the worst decisions she’d ever made and I was glad that she was free of him. I just didn’t want her free of him in my bedroom.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said, leaving the room and slamming the door. I stomped down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Where am I supposed to sleep?” I said.

  “Ask your father,” Missy said. “He’s the one who came up with this brilliant plan.”

  “I tried to get them to go to a motel,” Dad said. “That was the original plan but your mother wouldn’t go. She’s too afraid. She thinks that Derek might come down here and try to make her go back with him.”

  “That is ridiculous,” I said. “And if she is right and she is staying here then that puts us all in danger. I don’t want to be around when some deranged mad man shows up and Missy and Owen shouldn’t be here either. Dad you have to fix this and you have to fix it now.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Dad yelled.

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Just make them go away.”

  “I will,” Dad said. “But it’s too late to do anything tonight.”

  “And so where am I supposed to sleep?” I said again.

  “You can sleep on the couch,” Dad said.

  “Oh no,” Missy said. “Your father is sleeping on the couch tonight.”

  She grabbed her cup of coffee and stormed off to the bedroom where she slammed the door. I heard the lock click shut. Missy wasn’t giving my father access tonight.

  “Dad?” I said.

  “I don’t know, Em,” he said. “Can you sleep in the laundry room?”

  “The laundry room?” I shrieked.

  “There is that recliner in there. It’s quite comfy. I promise it will only be one night and I’ll make it up to you. Just be a good girl and don’t make a fuss. Okay?”

  “Fine,” I said. “One night.”

  And then I was the one storming off to sleep amid piles of laundry that I weren’t even sure were clean and it turned out that the recliner was actually where Meatball slept every night so not only was it covered in cat hair but he kept trying to jump on my head and push me out of his chair all night long. In desperation I tossed him outside.r />
  “Go and catch some mice,” I scolded.

  But he didn’t. He just sat outside the door and howled like the most miserable creature on the planet. His feelings oddly mirrored my own.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I woke early, probably because I didn’t really sleep at all. I would have been better off sleeping on the couch down in the barn office but being banished to the laundry room felt like some kind of punishment that I deserved and I wanted my mother and step sister to feel sorry for me. Make them feel guilty. But as I dragged my sorry self into the kitchen they didn’t look sorry at all.

  They were there at the stove making pancakes, smiling and laughing like they’d slept fine and of course they did. They’d had a nice, soft, warm comfortable bed to sleep in but I wasn’t going to give it up for a second night. I was going to tell Dad only he wasn’t around and Missy wasn’t up yet.

  “Want some pancakes?” Mom said.

  “Oh, you are talking to me then,” I said.

  “Of course I am Emily,” Mom said. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “Dramatic?” I said, my voice rising. “Do you even know what you’ve put me through? I don’t even know you anymore. You are a horrible mother.”

  Her face fell. I knew I’d hurt her and I was glad but Cat wasn’t going to let me get away with that. Her chest puffed out and she put her arm around my mother. Her hair was a boring brown color, the nose ring had gone and I couldn’t see any tattoos. It looked like Cat the rebel had become Cat the perfect daughter while they were away and if that was the way my mother wanted it then that was fine. They could leave and be perfect together.

  “She is a great mother,” Cat said, just like I knew she would.

  “So why don’t you go and be perfect mother and daughter together somewhere else and leave us alone?” I said.

  I went to take a shower, which was cold because my mother and Cat had used up all the hot water and then pushed my way into my own room that had been taken over by suitcases and boxes of their junk. I finally found a pair of clean breeches crumpled under a backpack. I couldn’t even find stuff in my own room. It was ridiculous. I couldn’t face going back through the kitchen again and seeing them being all perfect together so I grabbed my boots and a granola bar from the secret stash I kept in my drawer and then I slipped out the window. Take that stupid perfect mother. She wasn’t the boss of me. Not now. Not ever.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I ran down to the barn, feeling suddenly free. Mom and Cat would be stuck in the house like prisoners. They didn’t have a car and Mom certainly wouldn’t come down to the barn. She hated horses more than she hated my father and she’d only tolerated Bluebird a few times. I knew I was pretty safe down there from them and Dad obviously had the same idea. He was out in the ring working his own horse.

  Canterbury was on the lunge line, his head tucked down as he pulled against the side reins. His sides were flecked with sweat but he seemed focused on his work. I was impressed. I knew it took a lot to forgive a horse that put you in the hospital. How could you ever trust them again? And even though my dad wasn’t up in the saddle yet, he was making an effort. When he saw me standing there he beckoned me over.

  “Looking good, don’t you think?” he said.

  “I guess,” I replied as the big chestnut horse huffed and puffed in front of me.

  He was out of shape, his muscles fat and flabby. It was going to take weeks of consistent work to get him back in the game again.

  “I want you to ride him,” Dad said.

  “No, you don’t,” I told him as I leaned on the fence. “You are only saying that because you want me to forgive you for the whole mom thing.”

  “Is it working?” he said.

  “Offering me the ride on a horse that put you in the hospital? No I wouldn’t exactly say that it’s working. Why would I want to risk my own life the way you risked yours?”

  “Look, I’m not saying take him to any shows. All I’m saying is flat him around a bit. Get to know him. The horse jumps like no horse I’ve ever seen. When I bought him there were several people that wanted him because they thought he could qualify for the World Equestrian Games. Maybe even the Olympics. He’s that good.”

  “So why has he been sitting here doing nothing then?” I said. “And if he’s that good why don’t you just sell him? I know we need the money.”

  “Money isn’t important,” Dad said. “Talent is hard enough to come by as it is. You don’t just sell a horse like this when times get tough.”

  “So what do you do? Live in his stall? Share his oats?”

  “Em,” Dad said, his voice a warning that I was taking it too far. “Get up there. Let’s see if you click.”

  “What, now?” I said.

  “Why not? No time like the present.”

  “Yeah, no time like the present to get your head bashed in,” I said.

  I slammed my helmet onto my head as my father shortened the stirrups on his saddle. I didn’t have time to be nervous. Before I knew it he was tossing me skyward. Canterbury felt like a giant. He was taller than any other horse that I’d ever ridden. No wonder he was talented. He could just step over the jumps.

  “I’ve already worn him out so he shouldn’t give you any trouble,” Dad said, unbuckling the side reins.

  “Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I told you, get to know him. Figure him out.”

  “But don’t you already have him figured out? You could just tell me instead of making me go through all this.”

  “I thought I did have him figured out,” Dad said. “But now I think that maybe I was wrong and a woman’s touch might be just what he needs.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  I nudged Canterbury into a walk, not sure if the horse was going to take off like a rocket on me or not but he didn’t. He ambled off at a sauntering pace on the rail. I asked for some half halts, making sure that my brakes were in fact operational and when I asked him to halt he did. We backed up, did turns on the forehand and haunches and some half passes across the ring.

  When trying out a new horse I liked to make sure that all my aids were fully operational. You never knew if a horse had learned to run through the bit or ignore your leg because their sides were dead but Canterbury was the perfect gentleman and when I asked him for a trot, he powered away down the long side of the ring.

  “Wow,” I said as we went by Dad.

  “Told you,” he replied with a grin.

  I didn’t ask for a canter or try to get him to jump. I just patted his neck and told him he was a good boy. Then I got off.

  “Done already?” Dad said.

  “He’s tired,” I said. “You know, from all the lunging. It’s not fair to push him.”

  “Fine.” Dad took the reins from me. “But I’m putting him on your schedule. You’ll ride him from now on.”

  “Am I riding him because you want to sell him or am I riding him to get him in shape for you?” I asked as we walked back to the barn.

  “Does it matter?” Dad said.

  “Yes. I’d like to know if the horse I’m going to bond with is going to be yanked away from me eventually.”

  “No horse is going to be yanked away from you,” Dad said.

  “Fine, sold, whatever. You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t know what is going to happen to him,” Dad said. “I think right now it’s up to him and you.”

  “Oh so no pressure then,” I said. “Great.”

  But I was smiling. The fact that my father had finally trusted me to ride his best horse was the sort of praise I’d been begging from him all along. It meant that he believed in me and my abilities and he knew that I wouldn’t mess his horse up. Though I had to wonder why he hadn’t asked Missy to ride him instead of me.

  “I’d better check on Bluebird,” I said as I ran off down the aisle, realizing that the barn was an easy place to forget all your troubles and focus only on your horses a
nd their fantastically complicated lives.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I spent the day riding my horses and not caring about much else. They took all my attention and made me forget about my mother and Cat sitting up at my house just like they had at the show. At lunchtime Missy brought down a pile of sandwiches and a big bag of potato chips and we ate them sitting out in the shade of the old oak where there was a breeze.

  “They are still up there then?” I said.

  “Unfortunately,” Missy replied.

  “Well they can’t stay with us forever,” I said.

  “I know. That’s what I told your father.”

  “I’m sorry that he is doing this to you,” I told her.

  “He’s doing it to you too,” she said, reaching out and grabbing my hand.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got your back.”

  “He says he doesn’t love her,” Missy said. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, even though I’d noticed it too. “He just likes the underdog. He’s always fighting for people who he feels have been mistreated.”

  “Which is fine,” Missy said. “I get that. Just not in my house.”

  “He doesn’t love her,” I told Missy. “They had a messy divorce. They haven’t even really spoken since then. My mother hated him so much that she threw out all the birthday and Christmas cards he ever sent me and pretended like he didn’t care about me at all. She wouldn’t let me talk to him on the phone so eventually he gave up calling. They are messed up together. And maybe she thinks he is her knight in shining armor right now but they’ll soon go back to hating each other. You’ll see.”

  “If I can wait that long,” Missy said darkly.

  I couldn’t imagine how she was feeling. It was a horrible thing for my father to do, bring my mother, his ex-wife into our home. It was the sort of thing that caused huge fights and made people split up and I was stuck somewhere in the middle, not knowing what would happen to me if they did.