Leap of Faith (7 page)

‘No idea,' Steve and Jessica said at once, and then broke into laughter.

‘They took pity on Jess,' Steve said.

‘And advantage of Steve while he was looking after me.'

‘Well, aren't you just full of surprises?' Tiffany smiled warmly at Steve and then Jessica. Jessica winced, recognising the pain behind the smile. She really hoped it wouldn't be too long before a nice man would arrive and sweep their kind and generous friend off her feet.

They enjoyed a meal filled with light small talk and compliments to Steve for the lovely food, and then Tiffany for the scrumptious apple pie. And after Tiffany and Steve had cleared the table and stacked the dishwasher, Tiffany announced she had better go home and get an early night. When Jessica's eyes glanced at the kitchen clock she was both surprised and pleased to see it was only eight thirty – it felt more like ten thirty. She was relieved – she was fading fast and still had to have a shower and deal with keeping the cast dry while doing so.

Jessica loved showering at night to unwind, and then climbing into bed feeling fresh, relaxed and warm. But not tonight, thanks to having to wrap her leg with a garbage bag sealed with gaffer tape and sit on a cold plastic chair under the water. Peeling off the wet tape and plastic bag afterwards and carefully getting back to bed on her crutches was a struggle and she got into bed feeling clean, but certainly not relaxed.

She snuggled up to Steve for a moment, feeling the urge to take it further. They kissed passionately, adopted a closer position so the lengths of their bodies were touching. She felt him harden against her, but, as he tried to pull her on top of him, the weight and rigidity of her cast reminded her that things were far from normal. She did not feel sexy with the foreign object that was her purple fibreglass cast between them.

And now the moment was lost. Steve seemed to sense it too, because he stopped manhandling her, held her tightly for a moment, and then kissed her on the nose.

‘Sorry,' she murmured into his chest.

‘Don't be. It's not your fault.'

‘It's not exactly sexy,' she said, rolling off of him.

‘No,
it's
not, but you are. Anyway, I am pretty knackered. Not sure what I did all day, but I'm exhausted.'

‘Hmm. Thanks for everything.'

‘My pleasure, sweetie. I'll be doing it all again tomorrow and the day after that,' he said, rolling over to face her and smiling warmly.

The thought that she could be possibly the luckiest woman in the world brought on a rush of emotion.

‘Well, goodnight then,' she said, giving him a quick kiss and rolling over to turn off her bedside lamp.

‘Goodnight, you two,' she said, peering over at Laurel and Hardy, who were on the floor at the end of the bed where Steve had laid out a few old but clean saddle cloths for them.
Softy
, she thought, smiling to herself. The dogs looked up at her with hearty grins and flapped their tails a few times before settling back down again. She clicked off the light and lay down. They had plugged a nightlight into the power point by the bathroom door so there was a soft glow lighting Jessica's side of the room.

It seemed to take an age for her to get comfortable. She was normally a side sleeper, but with the cast neither side was comfortable. She lay on her back for a while so as not to disturb Steve. He'd never grumble about her keeping him awake with her thrashing about, but she knew if she didn't lie still he would be disturbed. She felt bad enough about all he had to do now she was incapacitated, without ruining his sleep as well.

She was exhausted and desperate for sleep, but didn't at all feel actually sleepy. The little snooze that afternoon had probably ruined her sleep pattern, though that should have made up for the sleepless night before in the hospital. It was so nice to smell her gardenia room scent, rather than the chemical clean scent of the hospital room.

Try to sleep on your back
, she silently told herself. It did feel more comfortable than either side had felt, but she'd never fallen asleep on her back before, even after too much wine. She realised she still had her eyes open and closed them.

The sound of the dogs and Steve breathing and the far off swoosh of trees suddenly all sounded much too loud. She tried to put everything out of her mind by starting to count back from three hundred in lots of three. It was what Oprah's sleep guru recommended; she remembered reading it in one of the magazines she'd flicked through ages ago at the hairdresser. It took quite a bit of concentration – that, apparently, was the point: it stilled the busy brain from churning through the distractions and worries of life. Jessica wondered if it would work. She'd never really been troubled by poor sleep – just the odd night here and there tossing and turning before competitions.

As she counted down, got lost, found her spot again, and carried on, she could feel herself relaxing and gradually becoming sleepy. Every time she thought about the following day and the next six weeks, and how she could occupy herself, she'd stop and go back to the counting. What she needed was a good night's sleep, things would be better in the morning. It was something her dear mother used to say often, before she lost her fight with leukaemia. Theresa Collins had managed to stay positive to the end and, while that had been better than seeing her mope about and sitting in floods of tears, it meant that when the end actually came, Jessica had been stunned.

She hadn't believed for a second that her mum would actually die, despite hearing the doctors' increasingly poor prognoses, and watching her mother's gradual decline. She was utterly convinced that those in the know had it all wrong and her mum would prove it.

Afterwards, Jessica spent months in a shocked daze. Not even writing the eulogy and giving it, or watching the expensive polished box being lowered into the ground made her fully accept her mother wasn't going to be there to plait up her horses for the next event. That had always been Theresa's part in what was a true family activity. She'd never ridden, but was there with the hose and shampoo, comb and scissors, needle and thread, the hoof black. The reputation Jessica had gained for always turning out her horses impeccably had been solely down to her mum. She did okay herself, but there was a distinct difference in the quality of her horses' presentation during Theresa Collins' reign and after her death.

It was getting ready for the first event after her mother's death that had really brought her loss home to Jessica. She wasn't sure why, when she'd been doing the horses herself for the last twelve months because Theresa hadn't had the energy and was more often in hospital than not. But that evening, about two weeks after her mother's funeral, Jessica had stood on the bucket with Prince's mane divided ready to plait and, instead of continuing, laid her head on his neck and sobbed for ages. She'd briefly considered scratching from the event, but the thought of disappointing her father made her carry on as if on autopilot. Afterwards, the whole day was a blur.

Jessica felt a wave of loneliness engulf her. It was so strong that it took her breath away and caused her to gulp a couple of times. Tears filled her eyes. Oh, she missed her parents.

God, she needed to pull herself together – she was just overtired and emotional. They were gone, end of story. Blubbering about it wouldn't bring them back. Her father would be the first one to say that – in fact had, on more than one occasion since losing his wife.

She forced her mind back to her counting, feeling her forehead pucker into a frown as she concentrated on trying to remember the last number.

Jessica fought against the weight on her shoulders pinning her down. She tried to get up, but something was stopping her. Someone was calling her name and the sound was fuzzy, muffled. Her eyes flew open of their own accord. She blinked, trying to take in the scene. Steve was practically on top of her. He had a hand on each of her shoulders. She looked up at him, fear and confusion furrowing her brow.

‘You had a nightmare. You were thrashing all over the place. For a moment I thought you were having some kind of seizure,' he said, letting go of her, moving back to his side of the bed and sitting up. ‘You scared the shit out of me.' He rubbed his face. In the glow from the nightlight and clock radio she could see the creases of worry.

She took a few deep breaths in an effort to ease her racing heart. Remnants of the dream started seeping into her consciousness. She'd been drowning, pinned underneath Prince in the water jump. She was wet with sweat and sitting up now with the covers away from her chest she felt a chill sweep through her. She shuddered.

‘Are you okay?'

‘Yeah,' she said, nodding. ‘Like you said, just a bit of a nightmare. Probably the painkillers messing with me.'

‘Do you want to talk about it?'

‘Not much to tell; I don't even remember what it was about,' she lied. She didn't want Steve to worry. No point causing him extra worry for no reason. Her whole world had been shaken up, there was bound to be a few sleepless nights and weird dreams. Though she felt a niggle inside her that suggested this was a lot more serious than a weird dream brought on by medication. She forced it down, telling herself firmly that she would stop the painkillers and then worry about it if that didn't work. She looked around the room to try to fully shake the dream and the panic still coursing through her in the hope she might go back to sleep, and noticed the dogs sitting to attention beside the bed, looking up at her full of concern.

‘It's okay guys, I'm fine, but thanks for caring,' she said, leaning down and ruffling their ears. ‘Back to sleep now,' she said and pointed at the end of the bed.

They seemed to understand and disappeared, soon to be heard giving deep harrumphs and making settling-down noises. Within seconds their breathing was deep and even.
Lucky things
. She couldn't believe how quickly they'd adapted to being inside dogs, and how well behaved they were being. Jessica couldn't imagine getting back to sleep now. Actually, she didn't even want to try; that feeling of panic, helplessness, of drowning, had been horrific. She didn't want to ever experience that again. She'd have to try to stop the painkillers.

‘Would you like a hot chocolate to help you get back to sleep?' Steve asked, rubbing her arm.

‘That would be lovely, thanks,' she said, smiling over at him and covering his hand with hers.

As she watched him get up she stole a glance at the clock radio on Steve's side table. Two a.m. At least she could sleep all day tomorrow. But poor Steve couldn't. He was meant to be marking the calves in less than five hours.

Jessica lay back down, fully aware her heart was still racing, and ran her hands through hair that she discovered was damp and sticky with sweat. God, she needed another shower. But with all the rigmarole that entailed, she'd stay put and be stinky. She'd have to hope Steve didn't notice.

‘Here you are,' he said, handing her one of the mugs he held.

‘Thank you.' She smiled up at him and took the mug in both hands. She felt herself relaxing ever so slightly as the warmth of the mug began seeping through her hands. She took a sip and savoured it before saying, ‘Ah, that is lovely.' It felt quite decadent to be sipping mugs of hot chocolate together at this time of the morning.

‘You'd better get some more sleep else you'll be too tired for marking tomorrow,' Jessica said a few minutes later.

‘Hmm, today, you mean. I'll just finish this.'

At least he would drop back off to sleep quickly.

‘Mind if I turn the light off now?' he asked when he'd put his empty mug down.

‘No. I need a wee, so you turn yours off and I'll put mine on.'

‘Do you need a hand?'

Jessica almost laughed at the image of him actually trying to help her pee. It was different for men, who had something that needed holding up. She didn't want to laugh and have him think she wasn't being grateful. ‘Thanks, but I should be fine,' she said, being careful to keep any sarcasm out of her tone.

‘Well, be careful – especially with the crutches on the tiles.'

‘I will. Goodnight.' Jessica leant over and kissed him before leaning the other way, turning on her light, grabbing her crutches from where they were stacked against the wall, and carefully getting out of bed. The dogs were again at attention beside her. They stepped aside and followed her to the ensuite toilet where they sat watching her. It was kind of cute, though a little weird and disconcerting.

‘All done, back to bed,' she whispered to the dogs, as she hoisted herself back onto her crutches. As Jessica turned out the light, Laurel and Hardy were already curling up on the floor.

Jessica lay in the dark, desperate to relieve the scratching feeling in her eyes by getting some sleep, but fearful of returning to the nightmare and that feeling of drowning. And putting Steve through it all again. She listened to him breathing – already sleeping soundly again.

She forced herself to endure the discomfort of lying on her side; that way she was unlikely to go to sleep. She listened to the whistle of the wind through the pine trees and the faint, occasional whirr of a vehicle out on the highway. She felt sleep tugging at her eyelids and her body twitch as she gave in. She was just too tired to resist.

*

Jessica was riding that cross-country course again, checking off each jump, each twist and turn, each marker, as she went. She could feel her heart rate soar as she came around the last corner to face the water jump. Her heart leapt into her throat as Prince slowed, too much – to the point she knew he wouldn't make it. Then the sound of scraping and the feel of him twisting awkwardly underneath her as he scrambled over, and finally the crash and splash as his legs buckled and they went down.

This time Jessica somehow managed to wake before the feeling of being pinned underneath Prince and the sensation of drowning hit her. She was sweating and gasping once more but thankfully had this time managed not to disturb Steve. She forced her breathing to slow, detecting the furious pounding of her heart under her ribs. She felt as if she'd actually ridden the round.