Jumped (16 page)

As the sun lowered, the cricket chorus started its evening concert. Beth took a bite of sirloin and savored it, her surroundings, and the man across from her. Just like in the grocery store, it felt normal
.
It was so easy to be with him. Beth found herself thinking about how happy Amanda was now that she was married. Amanda hadn't cared about getting married, and yet she'd told Beth she was happier than she'd ever been. Not that she had to mention it; it showed on her face when she looked at Grady.
Do I want to get married again? Do I want to marry Finn?
Was it even possible?

When they finished dinner, they moved inside because the night was uncomfortably cool. Finn settled Beth on the sofa with a glass of wine and the promise of ice cream. Then, impressively, he camped in front of the sink, balanced on one foot, and started to wash the dishes.

“I can do those,” Beth said, rising from the sofa.

“Relax. This is nothing compared to getting dressed. Besides, I grilled, so there's not much to wash.”

The wine strengthened her warm fuzzies for Finn. In the black T-shirt that stretched across his generous expanse of shoulders, he looked pretty flippin' sexy at the sink.

When he was done, she helped transport the ice cream to the sofa. They faced each other, leaning against the armrests on opposite ends. Without thinking, Beth slid her bare feet beneath his bare leg, a habit from when they were married.

He sipped decaf coffee, then said, “I need to ask you something.”

This sounded vaguely ominous. “Okay.” She slid a spoonful of chocolate-chocolate-chip—her favorite—into her mouth so that her next word was muffled. “Shoot.”

“It's about my work.”

Interesting. What could this possibly be about? “Yes?” She chewed the chips in her ice cream.

“It's a project I'm bidding on. It's for Mitchell Frederick. I forgot that you chew ice cream.”

Her father's old friend, Mitch. Uncle Mitch. She looked up from her ice cream to see Finn staring at her.

He continued, “I, uh, wondered if you know why he wants to build a house in Aspen.”

She licked her spoon. “He used to come out to the summer house with us sometimes. He and Aunt Deanna would stay a couple weeks, he'd go fishing with Dad, and one year they came in fall and went hunting. I haven't talked to Uncle Mitch in a couple years, so if there's anything more to it than he likes the mountains, I don't know what it is.”

“Thanks. So he likes to hunt and fish. This is a good place for it.”

She shoveled a huge glob of chip-laden ice cream into her mouth and chewed it.

She chewed over a few other things, too.

Was Finn manipulating her so she'd help him get this job? Come to think of it, he had gone out of his way to talk to her.
No, Beth, he was at your table. It would've been odd if he hadn't talked to you.
But what if he was tearing down her defenses? What if he had become as ruthless in business as her father? He had always been ambitious. From the time he was a teenager, he'd wanted to be an architect.
Blerg, why am I thinking this way?
I'm
becoming like my father!

But she couldn't help herself.

Beth set her ice cream next to her on the sofa cushion, withdrew her feet from under Finn's leg, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Are you trying to get information out of me about Uncle Mitch? Is that why you made the steak dinner, the wine, and washed the dishes?”

Finn's eyes went huge and his back stiffened. “Christ! No. No! Is that what you think?”

“All of a sudden you're all”—she shook her head quickly and with little movement, as though having a seizure— “romantic.”

“I have been known to be romantic. You yourself have accused me of being very romantic. Remember our first kiss, under the stained-glass window? The rose petals on the bed the first time we made love?”

“Crap on a cracker, Finn, if I find out you came to the wedding on the off chance I would be a guest, I will run you through with that samurai sword.” She grabbed her bowl and jumped to her feet. “And I'll be sure to break more bones before you stop breathing.”

She went to the kitchen.

“Bethany.” Finn rolled off the sofa and bumped his crutches so they clattered to the floor. “Damn it!” He scrambled to gather them and stand.

Meanwhile, Beth grabbed the ice cream carton from the freezer and dug out a ridiculously large curl. She shoved it in her mouth.

Finn glided into the kitchen. Muscles along his jaw twitched. He leaned against the counter, facing her. “Now, look here. I wanted to make dinner for you to thank you for all you've done for me since I broke my leg. I also wanted to be alone with you. And before you start, I took you to bed because . . . I want you, I love you, and you drive me completely insane.”

She took him in. His eyes were still wide, and now he had parentheses of tension around his mouth. He looked grim and tired. The stubble on his chin, which had been alluring before, now added to the impression of fatigue.

She skimmed the spoon along the top of the ice cream and licked the fudgy ribbon. “Did you know I was going to be at the wedding?”

“Yes.” He looked at the granite countertop as though hunting for inspiration. Then he looked at her and exhaled. “I asked to be seated at your table.”

Beth set the carton of ice cream on the counter and dropped the spoon into the sink with a clatter. “Why on God's green acre would you do a thing like that? You had to know I would rather sit with shoe salesmen from Buffalo than with you.”

His lips were in a firm line and he moved his head in a small circle as his eyes roamed around the room. “I had to take that chance. I knew I wanted to see you and talk to you. That's why. I wanted to see if there was a chance. And what's wrong with shoe salesmen from Buffalo?”

“A chance of what? That I'd throw a dinner roll at your head?”

“What do you think? Take a guess.”

She tensed her cheeks and gave him her
oh, pa-leeze!
face.

He wasn't taking
Oh, pa-leeze!
for an answer.

“I'm serious.” He looked at her, his face still.

She made one loud
tsk
with her tongue. She sighed with too much force. “You don't really mean that, do you?”

“Mean what?” He raised his eyebrows.

“About you and me?”

He nodded. “Go on.” He was encouraging her like she was a snorting horse with braced front legs, afraid to cross a stream.

“You seriously want me to say it?”

“More than you could possibly know.”

She let her head fall back like a Pez dispenser and studied the sturdy beams of the ceiling as she spoke. “A chance that you and I would get back together.” She looked at him. “There, I said it, okay? Happy?”

His eyes softened. It looked like a mixture of relief and amusement. He tilted his head to and fro, squinted and grimaced. “Close, but no cigar.”

“What? How can I be wrong? Then what is it? Geez, this is the worst game show ever.”

Finn's lips tightened as he stifled a grin. “Bethany. I wondered if there was a chance . . . that you had forgiven me.”

10

B
eth fell back
against the counter. This was bigger than them getting back together. He wasn't looking for a get-me-sweaty-in-the-sack dalliance with someone familiar until he met The One. He still thought she was The One and he wondered if the foundation of their relationship could be rebuilt. If she had forgiven him for what he'd done wrong in their marriage, there was a chance. She let out a breath, except it came out in pieces, shattered. “Oh, Finn,” she whispered.

His voice was soft as a foal's nicker as he said, “Have you?”

“I'm not sure.”

He looked at her, revealing nothing. He was taking in the information. Then he said, “That's not ‘no,' right?”

Partially because his words alleviated some of the tension buzzing between them and partially because they seemed to be on firmer relationship-ial ground, her lips curved up. It felt good to smile. “Correct, sir. Not ‘no.' ”

He nodded crisply. “Okay. What can I do to persuade you?”

As much as she wanted this to be a bawdy proposal, one look at his face, which wore the most endearing expression ever, disabused her of this notion.

She sighed, more steadily this time. “We'll have to talk. But not tonight. I can't start a heavy-duty discussion of our past right now. I want to find my dog and go to bed.”

Finn nodded. “That's fair.” He took a breath. “Would you consider sleeping here? With me? Just sleep?”

“As long as we sleep only,” she said. “At least for now.”

He nodded sideways.
As you wish
. “I'll help you look for Mingo.”

“You don't have to.”

“I want to. I need the practice with these things.” He lifted the crutches like big wings.

They went into the summer night and up to the house in companionable silence. Mingo was sleeping next to Ben in one of several of the house's canine-preferred zones, just outside the kitchen. Beth scooped him up and set him down once they were outside. Mingo sniffed about, took care of business, and merrily trotted back to the cottage with his mistress and Finn. In the cabin, the dog settled on the bed. Beth watched Finn kiss the head of the dog she loved to an unreasonable degree and thought there just might be room in her heart to forgive her ex-husband and start over.

The following morning Saturday,
Beth and Amanda rode together in the ring. They were training their mounts independently, but they enjoyed this ritual they had done for almost fifteen years, starting when they met in Young Riders, the program designed to develop and encourage promising teens in the Olympic equestrian sports. Ellis took a break and sat at one of the ringside tables to watch and downed a bottled water. “This is so cool!” she said, and Beth and Amanda laughed in delight at her enthusiasm.

Beth walked, trotted, and cantered Brooke through dressage movements to increase her mare's flexibility, strength, and obedience. Amanda did likewise with Edelweiss, to keep her fit and supple since she wasn't showing for the time being. Although they performed similar exercises, Brooke wasn't quite as advanced as Amanda's gray.

Both Beth and Amanda loved riding together like this, especially when the weather was so spectacular—sunny and in the sixties. The two women knew each other's tendencies so well, they easily stayed out of each other's way. It was singularly Zen, the way they swirled and circled through the same space, their horses keeping a metronome rhythm to the sounds of hoofbeats and breath streaming through fluttering nostrils and the ever-present alpine birdsong.

When they were done, they walked their horses out of the ring and started down one of the wide paths into the surrounding aspen/pine forest. They wouldn't ride for long, just enough to let the horses cool off. It was also a perfect opportunity to talk privately, far out of Finn's earshot—or Grady's, if need be. Beth had begun to think of their trail rides as mobile therapy sessions with great scenery.

“What do you have to forgive him for?” Amanda asked.

“Oh . . . any number of sins. Like Harris said, ‘Finn' rhymes with ‘sin.' ”

Amanda smiled slowly at that one.

“What?” Beth asked.

“I can't imagine Finn chalking up so many sins in so little time. He was crazy about you.”

“There wasn't any one huge thing. It was . . . a bunch of little things. I agree though, I did think he was crazy about me.”

“And possibly still is, but I need to spend more time with the two of you together. He sure was unhappy when you were talking to Jack, though.”

“I wish I'd seen it! But that Jack . . . Damn, Amanda, he is flippin' hot. Why didn't you tell me about him last summer?”

“I didn't know about him and, hey, you came up to help me with
my
romantic woes, remember?”

“And I did a stellar job. You took my advice and look how happy you are now. If only I could give
myself
good advice.” Beth felt the afternoon darken, even though the sun was still beaming down. This was
not
the Beth Way.

Her mood shift must've shown, because Amanda said, “Hey! Bethie, you can't lose here. You either stay as you are—and you're good, right? An exciting new business venture and Brooke's doing well. You're having fun, aren't you? Another possible outcome is you get back together with Finn. And that's good, too. It's a win-win.”

Beth looked at her friend. “Everything's in flux. Did I tell you I moved out of our old apartment in Ocala? I don't know if I can make a living selling clothing. I thought it would be a big adventure—you know, single girl out on the road with her horse and her fancy shirts, living like a gypsy. The downside of that is, the travel gets old fast. That was a huge reason I got burned out teaching. The constant horse shows, where I had to keep track of everyone's classes and who had to be in which ring. Not to mention the parents, who have been getting worse and worse, it seems. Damn tiger mothers who care about the blue ribbons more than their daughters. At least now I'm on my own, not at the beck and call of a dozen kids.”

Beth was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes—more and more lately, and especially since being here and seeing how you and Grady are—I wish I had a real home, not just some place where I sleep and eat breakfast. But that's another topic for another trail ride.”

She brightened. “Anyway, then Finn shows up and breaks his leg. All these stupid feelings I thought I'd put to rest are surfacing again. If we get back together, what's that mean for my business? I'd still have to go to horse shows, except at least I'll be my own boss and only have to answer to me. But what if I fall back into my old pattern?

“I have to figure out if we've both changed enough or gotten smart enough to not repeat the past. How much would it suck if we made all the same mistakes again? How do you figure that out?”

“Shouldn't you figure out if you love him first?”

“You mean separating out my emotions? Sorting through my feelings? Facing this like a mature adult? What fun is that? Why not let them fester in a big soupy mess of guilt, anger, resentment, lust, and love?”

“As pleasant as that acid bath sounds, if you don't love him, or don't think you're on the way to loving him again, everything else is moot. You don't have to take care of him, or see him much at all while he's here. If you want to enjoy his company, fine. Keep it light, no emotions. You know you like each other. You know he'll be going home soon. No matter what, you both leave on better terms than you arrived.”

“Okay, Dr. Vogel-Brunswick, but do I still get to sleep with him?”

“Yes, as long as you both know the ground rules. He still loves you. He's the one in danger of getting hurt.”

Beth ran her palm down Brooke's shoulder to her chest. The horse's sleek hair felt warm and dry, no longer hot and sweaty. “She's cool. If your girl's good, we can turn around.”

“You just want to stop talking about the tough stuff.”

“That, too.”

“Okay.” Amanda and Edelweiss made a U-turn on the trail and Beth and Brooke did the same. “Back to your postmarital baggage, what specifically is Finn begging forgiveness for?”

“He didn't say exactly. My best guess is when he walked out because I didn't go to dinner with him and his new boss because one of my students had a chance to qualify for the Maclay at a show for the first time and I felt like I had to be there for her.”

“Oh, right.”

“I didn't feel like I could just hand her off to another trainer. So I told Finn no, even after I'd promised I'd go with him. For him, that was the last straw. He then listed about ten instances when I'd promised I'd do something with him and then something came up at the barn or at a show and I'd beg off and expect him to understand. I accused him of keeping score. But the truth was, I had broken a dozen promises to him, all because of students or the horses. I didn't think it was a big deal at the time. In retrospect, it was selfish of me—I
could
have joined him most of those times. It wasn't like they were all emergencies. He was patient, but he'd come to the end of his rope. He went ballistic, and we pretty much never stopped fighting until we got divorced.” Beth puffed out a laugh. “Boy, when I put it like that, it sounds so simple. It sure didn't feel simple back then.”

“I knew it was bad when you cried at McDonald's.”

“Lots of people cry at McDonald's!”

“Remember how you asked for an Unhappy Meal?”

“They
should
have an Unhappy Meal. A burger and fries with a chocolate-chip-Prozac cookie.”

They were silent for a time. Beth observed the white quaking aspen trunks they passed, with the markings that looked like eyes with eyebrows. It was as if the trees were watching her go by. The eyebrows made her think of the eyebrows on the Hotel Jerome windows and that lovely night with Finn at the wedding.

Amanda said, “How
do
you feel about him? Do you love him?”

“I don't know! You keep asking, and I still don't know. It's been fun, helping him with his leg. I'd marry him, but I'd have to keep breaking his bones. That would get tiresome.”

“After the third or fourth time, he'd get suspicious.”

“That, too.” Beth leaned forward and pressed her forehead into Brooke's black mane. Like most riders, she loved how horses smelled, the tangy, unmistakable scent that went straight to her heart. “Gah! I hate this. What do I do?” she asked into the coarse hair. Then she sat up.

“See what happens. Sooner or later the answer will bubble to the surface and you'll know. Last summer, when I didn't know what to do about Grady, it hit me all at once. You'll figure it out—be patient.”

“I'm not good at patient.”

“Of course you are. You taught kids.”

“I can be patient with students and animals. I have no patience for me.”

Amanda grinned. “Looks like someone's going to acquire a new skill.”

“Or die trying.”

“Please don't. If we don't see you guys for days and days, we'll assume you're going at it like rabbits and we won't find you for weeks.”

“Until the first snow hits and you want to know where Brooke's winter blanket is. You'll go inside to find Mingo, fat and happy.”

“Eeeuuww!” Amanda exclaimed. “Just . . . be patient. You'll figure it out, Ms. Life Is Messy.”

“I hate that I ever said that.” Beth threw a wry smile at her friend. She watched Amanda laugh and had a gooey, soft-focus, Hallmark-card moment as it hit her that no matter what she decided about Finn, as messy as her life got, Amanda would always be there for her.