Fox River (23 page)

“If Bard was killed, my reaction wouldn’t be so extreme.” As soon as the words were out, Julia wished she had censored them.

“You believe in soul mates, and he’s not yours. Is that what you’ve been trying to say?”

“I don’t know what I believe. But I believe you’re lucky. Even if you and Jake aren’t communicating well right now, you have in the past. You have something to fix.”

“And you don’t?”

“You’ve hated Bard Warwick since the day I told you I was going to marry him.”

“No, I hated the fact that you felt you had to marry to preserve Callie’s future. I hated that he played on your despair and offered you what a good man couldn’t. I hated the fact that he expected you to fit into his world and did nothing to accommodate himself to yours.” Maisy hesitated. “I won’t go on. That’s a bad enough start to the day, isn’t it?”

Julia knew if she’d been looking at her mother, Maisy would be gripping the wheel. Her voice was tight with anger. And Julia knew the anger wasn’t aimed at her.

“Not a bad start,” Julia said at last. “An honest one.”

“He has good qualities,” Maisy said reluctantly. “I can see those, too.”

“I married him. Don’t I owe him my loyalty and devotion?”

“Not if he doesn’t deserve it. And that’s part of your mission right now, isn’t it? To determine who’s owed what?”

“I’m getting therapy on the way to see Yvonne. Am I going to get it on the way home, as well?”

“I’m going to drive my new truck and keep my mouth shut.”

“That would be an interesting change.”

Yvonne brought Julia into her office and made her comfortable, as always. Then she dropped a bombshell. “I’d like to try something completely new today.”

“And what’s that?”

“Hypnosis.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not even close.”

“Don’t I have to be able to see so you can swing something in front of me?”

“You watch too many old movies.”

“What’s the point?”

“To help you get in touch with whatever you don’t want to see. To help you see it in a different way.”

“I can’t be hypnotized.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s something girls do at sleepovers. I never even got close.”

“This isn’t the same thing at all.”

“Somebody discussed this with me at the hospital, Yvonne.”

“People with this particular problem are often easy to hypnotize.”

“Hysterics, you mean.”

“Do you think of yourself as a hysteric?”

“Before this, that would have been the last word I used.”

“I don’t think of you that way. I think of you as a woman who has a secret she’s keeping from herself, a creative, talented, insightful woman, an artist who could be more in touch with what’s inside her than most people are, although she doesn’t allow it. A woman who, when she is out of touch with something, tries desperate measures to avoid it.”

Julia immediately thought of Christian and Callie and all she had done and was still doing to avoid the inevitable. Shame filled her.

“Julia?” Yvonne asked gently.

“The psychologist at the hospital suggested hypnosis. I told him no. I’m telling you the same thing.”

“Why?”

Julia realized she was wringing her hands. “I don’t…I don’t want to relive anything that’s happened to me. I’ve lost a lot. I don’t want to feel those feelings all over again.”

“We can make it easier to bear. You can describe events as if you were watching them happen to someone else.”

“No.”

“When you’re ready, then.”

“I won’t be ready.”

“Let’s talk about this desire to avoid pain. Okay? Let’s start with something very small. Have you ever lost a pet?”

“No.”

“What about an opportunity? Something small. Something you wanted and didn’t get?”

“I had a chance for an art scholarship in high school, but I missed the deadline.”

“Well, that’s small enough. Let’s begin there. Tell me about the day you realized you’d blown your chance.”

J
ulia didn’t know when she had the idea to go riding. At some point between telling Yvonne about losing an unimportant scholarship and explaining how she had almost let her fears keep her from learning to ride, she’d realized how much she missed being on horseback. Once aware of it, the ache had almost stopped the flow of words.

At home she closed herself in the downstairs bedroom and called Millcreek Farm, asking Mrs. Taylor to transfer the call to the barn. She spoke to Ramon, the same groom who had delivered Feather Foot for Callie, and told him what she wanted. Then she went to find her mother.

“You’re not going to like this,” she warned Maisy.

“Try me.”

“I’m going riding. I’m taking Callie when she gets home from school.”

“How are you going to accomplish this?”

“Ramon is riding over with Sandman. He’s the gentlest horse Bard owns. Ramon will come with us to make sure we’re all right. Please don’t worry.”

“Julia…”

“I have to do it, Maisy. I need to be on horseback again. You know what they say about being thrown and getting right back on? I’ll be safe. We’ll just go for a trail ride.”

“There’s nothing I can say to stop you, is there?”

“Not a thing.”

“Do you need help finding something to wear?”

Karen, who had turned out to be invaluable, was off for the day, but Julia had arranged her own clothing in the drawers. “I have a pair of jeans. I’ll be ready by the time you bring Callie home from school.”

Although she was a little nervous, excitement was her main emotion. She was waiting in the yard when Ramon rode up. He called to her, and she waved. “Who are you riding?”

“Moondrop Morning.”

“Why?” She knew Morning, of course. He was Bard’s newest hunter, a high-spirited bay gelding with a ridiculously romantic name Bard hadn’t given him.

“He needed the exercise. And he behaves these days. Mr. Warwick, he’s been working with him every evening.”

Julia wished Bard was as patient with Callie. Or that Callie interested him as much.

“Mrs. Warwick, I don’t like to question you. But you’re sure you’re ready to do this?”

Julia had always liked Ramon, a young man from El Salvador who had seen more bloodshed and terror in his brief years than a career soldier. Ramon, who had been studying to become a veterinarian before he was forced to flee, was polite, great with horses and able to tolerate Bard’s officious behavior.

She winced inwardly at that thought, but the truth was undeniable. Bard, prince in his family in the same way that Fidelity had been a princess in hers, had a way of treating his employees as if they were inanimate objects. Fidelity, for all her faults and money, had treated everyone who worked for the Sutherlands as if they were cherished friends.

“You’re right to ask,” she assured him. “But I’ll be fine as long as you come along. We’re not pulling you away from something you had to do?”

“I had to exercise this horse. Do I have to tell Mr. Warwick where I did it?”

She could see his smile in her mind, a white flash against caramel-colored skin. She smiled back. “Not as far as I’m concerned. In fact, I’d like it better if you didn’t.”

“Mommy!”

Julia hadn’t noticed the gentle purr of Maisy’s new pickup or the door slamming. A small body barreled into her, and she wrapped her arms around Callie. “Hey, sweetums. How was school?”

“I hate school. Are we really going to ride?”

“We sure are.”

“Hey, Ramon!” Callie pulled away from Julia. “Want to see me saddle Feather Foot?”

“It’s a sight I wouldn’t miss.”

Julia heard footsteps, then her mother’s voice. “You know, if I were twenty years younger…”

“You have good taste, but of course, you married Jake.”

“We’ll see how good my taste is when Jake gets his first glimpse of the new truck.”

Jake had gone on a fishing trip and wouldn’t be back until dinnertime. “Maybe he’ll come back while we’re riding,” Julia said. “Then you can have it out with him without witnesses.”

“I might
need
witnesses.”

Julia laughed. “Callie’s got to change, then we’ll be ready. Do me a favor, okay? Lead me to Sandman so I can mount.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are two horses standing there. One looks as mean as the other.”

Julia heard Callie. “Thanks, Ramon!” She ran past, shouting as she did. “Ramon’s-going-to-finish-so-I-can-change-I’ll-see-you-when-I—” The door slammed.

“Do you think she’s looking forward to this?” Julia asked.

“I think I’m going inside. Come and get me when you’re back. If Jake’s home and you can’t find me, look for a freshly dug grave in the Ashbourne plot.”

Julia heard her mother leave and, only minutes later, the door slamming again. “I’m ready! I’m ready!”

“Boots on? Hat?”

“Got ‘em. Can we go now? Ramon’s coming. Hey, Feather Foot!” Callie raced off.

Julia waited until she heard Ramon’s steadier steps. “Are you ready, Mrs. Warwick?”

“All set. Lead the way, would you?”

He took her arm, and they started across the grass. It was an odd sensation to be so close to two huge beasts without her sight. “Almost there?”

“Almost. Sandman’s holding still.” Ramon took her hand and placed it on Sandman’s saddle. She pictured Sandman, a dark bay with quarter horse blood and the sturdy conformation that went with it. The leather was slick beneath her fingers, and she realized she was perspiring. “Here are the reins,” he said. She felt the leather straps slide beneath her palm, and she lifted it farther to accommodate them.

On her own, she felt for the stirrup with her right hand. Then, as Ramon steadied her, she placed her left foot in it and, with a slight boost from Ramon, lifted herself into the saddle.

“Thanks.” Astride now, she gathered the reins into the correct position and made certain both feet were firmly in the stirrups. “Everything feels good.”

“Miss Callie’s ready, too.”

“Then we’ll wait for you.”

The next time she heard his voice, he was ahead of her. “Miss Callie, would you lead the way? I’ll follow behind.”

Julia realized this was sound reasoning. Callie knew the paths around Ashbourne, and this way Ramon could keep them both in sight.

“Oh, boy!”

“You go ahead,” Julia said. “I’ll just give Sandman his head and he’ll follow. But no funny stuff, Cal. Remember, I can’t see what you’re doing.”

“Hey, I’m the mommy!”

“You still have to eat vegetables.”

“Let’s go!”

Julia heard the thud of horseshoes on turf, then Sandman started forward. She was riding again.

“Just relax and enjoy,” Ramon said, falling in behind her. “You’ll be safe. I’ll see to it.”

Christian hadn’t needed to spend significant time with the puppy hounds before he realized that Clover, despite impeccable bloodlines, was the stereotypical “dumb blonde” of the dog world. She was pretty to look at, fun to cuddle, and so brainless she hadn’t yet realized there was more to life than either.

After stumbling over her every single morning, Gorda, a matronly woman in her fifties, was ready to toss the puppy out of the kennel. Fish, irascible and “car’ful with his energy,” had even volunteered to make a trip back to Pennsylvania in his free time to return Clover to her breeder.

“You’re convinced she’s worthless?” Christian had asked that morning, and both had answered an unequivocal “yes.”

Christian wasn’t as sure. Dogs, like people, matured at different rates. He had a soft spot for late bloomers. On the other hand, he had trained enough dogs both in and out of prison to know that, under most circumstances, intelligent, trainable dogs didn’t come from puppies like Clover.

“I called Clover’s breeder,” Peter told Christian late in the afternoon. “He says there hasn’t been a single complaint about any of the other puppies in her litter.”

“She wasn’t the runt?”

“Far from it.” Peter looked sheepish. “I chose her myself. I had first pick. Blinded by a pretty face, I guess.”

“Well, she has everything but brains.”

“Upshot is, he doesn’t want her back. Won’t take her, in fact. But he’s promised me the pick of the next litter for free, although after this, I’m not sure I want to try this line again.”

“I’d say go ahead and take him up on his offer. Just think twice before breeding whatever you get, even if you’re lucky the next time.”

Christian clapped Peter on the back. “I’m going to take her out alone for a while. Night Ranger and I have a lot of work to do if we’re going to the opening hunt. We’ll take the puppy and see how she does.”

“We can’t afford to feed and house her if she doesn’t shape up, Christian. She’ll have to be culled.”

“Let’s see what I can do.”

Christian went to saddle Night Ranger. Every time he went to the barn the horse appeared to be waiting for him, or, more probably, for the carrot in Christian’s pocket. In the day since he had come home to Claymore Park, Ranger seemed to have developed more interest in life. He was still a long way from the confident, clever horse he once had been, but Christian had faith he would improve. “You, me and Clover. What a team, huh, guy? Misfits all.”

Christian patted Ranger’s neck as he saddled him. When they were both ready, he led him outside and launched himself into the saddle for the short ride to the kennel. The puppies greeted him like an old friend, jumping on each other and tumbling to the ground in warm, soft puppy piles. Clover stared sleepily at him from a corner, and only after coaxing did she amble over to investigate. He wondered if she felt the way he had in elementary school, aware that the other kids knew some marvelous secret he didn’t. If she did, then she was also learning that the secret might never be divulged.

He picked her up, fairly certain the afternoon would be shot before he could snag her attention long enough to get her out the door. Outside, he deposited her on the ground not far from Ranger. Then, Ranger’s reins in one hand, he started away from the kennel, calling to Clover as he went.

She sat sleepily at first; then she brightened as she realized she was supposed to come along. Tail wagging and ears perked, she walked directly into Ranger’s path, flopped to the ground and rolled onto her back to have her belly scratched.

“It’s going to be a long afternoon,” Christian said. “Come on, dumb dog, I’m trying to save your life here. Put a little effort into this, will you?”

She wriggled happily until he nudged her with the toe of his boot. Then she sprang to her feet and began to yap at Ranger. It wasn’t a sound foxhounds usually made. There was no throat-warbling music to it, no trumpeting medley. Clover barked like a particularly obnoxious poodle. Christian was reminded of a silent film star forced to appear in her first talkie. Clover’s career was going up in smoke, as well.

“Haven’t you been listening to the other hounds?” he chided. Ranger, to his credit, was ignoring the yapping puppy. “Maybe we should turn you loose with the other bitches and see if you can be taught?”

Clover wagged her entire body, and he had to smile. She was trotting along beside him now, satisfied she had subdued Ranger all by herself.

Once they were safely away from the kennel he mounted Ranger, satisfied the horse would avoid stepping on Clover if at all possible. “We won’t go too far,” he promised Ranger. “Because something tells me we’ll be coming back with the puppy in the saddle. But let’s give it a try.”

About twenty minutes into the ride Julia was sure she’d made a terrific decision. The air was cool, but the sun warmed her shoulders and arms. Callie was obviously proud to be in the lead and excited to be riding with Julia again.

“So, where are we?” Julia asked.

“You know where Mr. Greely keeps his bull?”

“Callie!”

Callie giggled. “Well, we aren’t there!”

Julia laughed. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“I don’t know where we are. Just riding. But I know how to get home.”

“Ramon?” Julia asked.

“Do you know where the woods dip down to the fence line between Claymore Park and Ashbourne?”

Julia knew exactly where they were now. They were riding along the edge of the woods, where a trail of sorts existed. “Okay. I didn’t have any idea. No landmarks for me these days.”

“It’s a good farm. Good land. Good pasture. The creek for water. Too bad no horses.”

“At least the Highland cattle are fun to look at.”

“When you learned to ride, did you have a horse here, Mommy?”

Julia had told Callie that she’d learned to ride late, but not how it had come about. “No. I learned to ride at Claymore Park, and I had permission to ride their horses anytime I wanted.”

“With your friends?”

“Yes.”

“Tiffany’s mommy works at Claymore Park, and she says I can ride there sometimes, too!”