Whatever Remains (32 page)

             
She straightened and went to the sink to rinse her glass. “Eat your sandwich.”

Out in the garage, Clara was indeed having a picnic with her grandfather at a picnic table waiting to be varnished. Six-four, as square-shouldered as ever, Clark Haley was still an impressive man, even if his thick shock of hair had gone white, his face lined with age and stamped smooth as leather from the sun. The man whose troops had referred to him as “the meanest
sonovabitch alive” was perfectly happy to listen to his granddaughter chirp away about her upcoming birthday party.

The garage had been transformed into a workshop: painted floor, work benches, tool boxes, table saw, every wood working implement imaginable hung on wall pegs. It smelled like sawdust, and some kind of old man aftershave that reminded Ben of his grandfather. His dad was old; it was terrifying how that happened, all of a sudden.

Clark turned at the sound of Ben’s boots on the threshold. He had dark eyes – like Chris and Ben – almost black at times; they flicked up from Ben’s boots to his face. “Your mom get you something to eat?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was it more of that da – ” He glanced at Clara and caught himself. “Chicken salad, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I figured.”

Ben tugged at the ends of Clara’s long hair. “Hey, Clarabelle. Gram said she’d let you have another cookie.”

She leapt up in a rush, darting past him with hair flying.

Clark smiled after her. “She’s going to be
five
,” he said, almost to himself. “How’d that happen?”

“I can’t believe it either.”

“Humph. That’s ‘cause you don’t spend enough time with her.”

“You too?” Ben asked with a sigh, climbing up and taking Clara’s spot on top of the table.

“Mom giving you what-for about Jade?”

“When isn’t she?”

He murmured an agreement. “She’s not wrong, you know.”

“I know.”

A beat of silence passed in which Ben acknowledged the unanswered, obvious question about his being there in the middle of the afternoon. “I got suspended,” he explained.

His dad nodded; Clark was all about the silent disappointment, unlike his wife. His lectures had always consisted of heavy looks and frightening eyebrows. This quiet spell didn’t feel like the ones from Ben’s childhood: it was noted, processed, and then pushed aside. If nothing else, his parents had become a united front when it came to the priorities of his life. “So you’re taking some time with the girls?”

“Yeah.” Ben studied a stray spot of dried wood putty on the floor. “Actually, I have something I wanted to ask you.”

Of the two of them, Jeremy was the better instructor. He was, if she admitted it, the more talented rider, too, but he wasn’t as keen on young horses: that was her forte, and not his. Jade usually had one or two training horses in at a time; she took them from
greenbroke to polished in a few months’ time, giving them a dressage foundation that could be built upon. Not only was it profitable, but it garnered Jeremy a new student, most of the time. Jade was big on sanity, and unlike most trainers, she turned her young horses out on grass all day; she hacked them out in the fields and desensitized them to all sorts of scary things from umbrellas to tarps. When a horse left her care, it had a brain between its ears, damn it.

             
Her current project – set to return to his owner in just two weeks – had been a whole new breed of challenge. Sixteen-three and all legs, Painted Sky was an off-the-track Thoroughbred who’d raced only three times, but who’d been bred for speed…and not much else. He’d been trained to run full tilt, neck stretched out, all of his weight balanced on his forelegs. Jade had been working for three months to teach him to respond to seat and leg aids, working slowly, painfully, toward self-carriage, teaching him to use his body more efficiently with more weight carried over his hind legs. Sky was intelligent, but flighty, and their progress had been slow up until he’d learned to trust her; then he’d made leaps and bounds.

             
She slowed him to a walk in the arena, smiling when he settled into the slower gate without throwing her up onto his withers. She let out the reins and he stretched his neck, blowing from the exercise, relaxed and happy. He would never make an upper level dressage horse – he didn’t have the strength or elasticity for that – but he could, with more training, show well in the lower levels.

             
“Good boy.” She gave him a smart pat on the neck.

             
Jeremy turned away from his lesson – a serious teenager who was talking about forgoing college in favor of a winter in Florida on the show circuit – and said, “He might make a show pony yet.”

             
“Oh, I think he will for sure,” she said, feeling a touch smug. He’d been a Sky-doubter from day one. “Open the gate for us? I’m gonna take him up the run.”

             
His face twitched. “Is that a good idea?”

             
“I’ve had him up there before.”

             
“Is he better about the spooking?”

             
He was in full helicopter mode today. Even if the tension of their morning conversation had dispersed, Jeremy hadn’t relinquished his role as her protector; he’d hovered all day. Is that turkey expired? Are you sure you feel like riding? Do you want me to work Sky for you? She was waiting for him to hand her a juice box, and prepared to bite his head off if he so much as mentioned Ben.

             
“He won’t get better unless I work on it,” she said, steering Sky to the gate. “I’ll be fine.”

             
He gave her a dubious look, but let them out and turned back to his student.

             
The afternoon was cool, grass rippling and bowing. There was a steady rush of the wind up in the tops of the trees, the leaves tussling together. Sky’s ears went on a swivel the moment they struck off from the arena, and she gathered her reins, just as a precaution. “We’re fine,” she told him. “Just going for a walk.” He snorted, tossed his head, and settled, striding through the tossing sea of grass with confidence.

             
Today had been the first semi-normal day since she’d found Heidi. Two of her usual lessons had braved the stigma and she’d helped Jeremy with Dec. Her ride on Sky had pulled the day’s work to a satisfying close and she was tired in the weak-limbed, fluttering-eyelash way that always meant she’d accomplished something. Fatigue was a constant, steady part of her life; she relished it the way some did food or drink.

             
Light fell in uneven shafts through the trees, dappling the grass, alive with dancing insects. Sky swished his tail in big, lazy sweeps; his hooves thumped dully against the turf. Jade felt herself relaxing by degrees, her muscles turning loose, shoulders dropping. She let the reins out a notch, and then another, content with the sounds of happy horse and the farm around her.

             
She should have known better.

             
She’d been around horses her whole life. She knew better than to let her guard down; she knew not to trust contentment.

             
They were at the end of the run, at the edge of the property, when something crashed in the underbrush on the other side of the fence. A half dozen doves flushed from the trees and beat their flustered way through the air above her head. It was the birds that scared Sky – that sent him spinning – but for a half second before she doubled the reins around her fists, she caught a glimpse of something moving in the woods, something upright and clothed. Something that plunged deeper into the tree line. A human.

             
Then Sky demanded her attention.

             
The rangy gelding lunged to the side, flinging his head up and bolting in a crazed tangle of legs. He was one great twisting muscle beneath her, and she slammed her heels down, legs gluing tight to his sides. Jade closed her hands on the reins and hauled one around to her hip. His neck curled, body swinging wildly as he tried to keep up with the change of direction. A horse couldn’t bolt with a turned head, and that was what would save her from taking a headlong rush across the farm on a trained racehorse.

             
“
Whoa
!” she called.  The fence loomed in front of them and she could see one of the horse’s eyes roll, a wild white ring circling the brown of his iris. His shoulders bunched beneath her knees; his back bowed; his hind hooves dug into the grass. His head tossed. The bit caught deep in the corner of his mouth. He was stopping.

             
And then another terrible crashing of tree limbs sounded behind them.

             
“
No
!”

             
Sky gathered himself in a tight ball of nerves; his muscles locked, bunched, clenched, fired. From a near standstill, he reared, and his hindquarters thrust hard.

             
He jumped.

             
Jade wasn’t ready; she wasn’t a jumper rider. And she didn’t have time to prepare. Sky launched himself into the air, over the fence, and she grabbed a double handful of his mane, throwing herself onto his neck in a haphazard, unbalanced two-point. He lifted, lifted, lifted; she lost a stirrup and clamped her leg tight to his barrel. He leapt like a gazelle, straight up…But it wasn’t high enough. His takeoff was too hurried, too close.

             
His knees caught the top fence board with an awful
crack
. Jade glanced down and saw black wood splintering, flying. Sky twisted in the air, spine wrenching. She landed hard in the saddle; the reins cut through her thin calfskin gloves and bit into her palms. His head flipped; he snapped her forward. And then, suddenly, she was free of him. She fell weightless, in slow motion, listening to the rush of blood in her ears.

             
Oh, shit
, she thought, and then the grass rushed up to meet her face.

21

H
eaven looked a lot like a bright blue September sky, brushed with white tufts of cloud and going gold around the edges as the sun set. For long moments, Jade was unaware of anything but that stretch of sky above her, the trill of evening birds, and the dim sense that something hurt very badly.

             
Where…?

             
How…?

             
Thinking about those questions and others was difficult. So was taking a deep breath. In fact…”Ow,” she whispered, chest constricting painfully. And the one touch of pain set off a hundred others, bright, angry spots of it blossoming beneath her skin, bubbling up like goose bumps, sizzling and burning and echoing deep within her muscles and bones.

             
“Jade!” Jeremy said, somewhere off to her right, panic hot in his voice. “Jade! Oh shit. God.” His face filled up her view of the sky, skin too-white, brown eyes saucer-wide and sparking. A lock of dark glossy hair fell across his forehead and clung to the sweat there. “Your eyes are open – okay, good – damn. Jade, honey.” His face zoomed in closer; he had gotten down on his knees. “Can you hear me? What’s hurt?”

             
She swallowed and tasted blood on the back of her tongue; she must have bitten the inside of her cheek. “Everywhere.” Her lips felt swollen, hard to talk around.

             
His hands hovered over her, afraid to touch. “Sky came back to the barn without you,” he said. He was breathing hard; he’d run all the way up here.

             
“Is he okay?”

             
“Fuck the horse. You’re the one with…” He made a face and touched her cheek; his fingers felt cold on her skin, and when they withdrew, they were red and slick with blood. “You cut your face,” he said. “Actually, there’s a monster bruise coming up. I think you smacked it open on a rock or something.”

             
There’d been a rock? No wonder she’d blacked out.

             
“Move your hands and feet for me,” he said. She did; he nodded. “Are you okay to move? Tell me if something feels off; I’ll call an ambulance no problem.”

             
She was sore – that full body impact sore – but nothing felt seriously wrong with her back. She’d fallen – they’d both fallen – enough to know when it was serious. “I’m okay, I think. My face broke my fall.”

             
“Not funny.” He pressed a hand beneath her shoulder and held out a forearm for her to grab onto. “Ready?”

             
Jade latched onto him – he had lean muscles and tendons that felt like steel bands under her fingers – and let him haul her upright. The blood ran out of her head in a dizzying spiral. Her ribs caught, grabbed, and left her breathless.

             
“What?”

             
“I think I cracked a rib,” she said through her teeth. “Shit.”

             
“Anything else?” Some of his color was coming back, and now he had his mother-face on.

             
She shook her head, and black spots erupted across her eyes. She froze, hands tightening on his arm.

             
“Take your time,” he urged.

             
“I think – ” She pulled up her legs and just that sent fire spearing between her ribs. She hissed.

             
“Okay.” Like all the times he’d done it playfully, he scooped her up in his arms, bride-across-the-threshold-like. “You’re going to the ER.”

             
“What about Sky?”

             
“Mel,” he said of his student, “said she could clean him up.”

             
“He’s okay then?”

             
“Better than you.” He went about three steps before she realized it was stupid for him to carry her all the way back to the barn.

             
“I can walk. Put me down.”

             
“Why? So you can faint?”

             
“I won’t faint. Come on; you can’t lug me all the way back.”

             
“What?” He sounded hurt. “I’m not as big and bad as Ben?”

             
“Well, technically, no. You’re not as big.”

             
“I ought to drop you straight on your ass.”

             
“But that’s not what I mean. I can walk, Remy. Let me down.”

             
He sighed noisily, but complied, lowering her gently to her feet, an arm around her waist when she sucked in a breath against the stabbing in her ribcage and leaned against him. “You sure?”

             
“I’m sure,” she said, teeth clenched. And even if it hurt like hell, she was determined to walk. She let him support her, and she took baby steps, but she stayed on her feet.

             
“Hey, Remy?” she asked as they hobbled along.

             
“Yeah?”

             
“I saw someone,” she said, and shivered at the memory, which fired tweaked nerves and sent fresh pain roaring through her. When she had her breath back, she said, “In the woods. Someone was out there and scared Sky.”

             
He was silent a beat too long. “Did you see a face?”

             
“No.”

             
His arm tightened around her. “We’ll call your dick on the way.”

“She had a bad fall,” Jeremy had said, and then hung up.
The prick
! You couldn’t just tell a guy that and then
hang up
! Ben broke the land speed record getting to the hospital, wallet on the console in case he had to flash his ID to a uniform, which delighted Clara. “Are we in a police chase?” she asked. He told her yes; he wasn’t telling her about Jade until he knew more.

             
Shannon was in the ER waiting room, looking flustered. Ben gave Clara a pat on her head and sat her down next to her grandmother. “Where is she?” he asked Shannon, and earned a dirty glance.

             
“I don’t know, but Jeremy – ”

             
“I’ll find her.”

             
He pushed open three curtains, surprising three scandalized patients before he located Jade. She was on the exam table in tan breeches, boot socks, and black sports bra, clutching at her side and breathing through her mouth while a doctor tipped her head back and flashed a penlight across her eyes. Her ponytail had come half loose and her face was smeared with dirt…where it wasn’t swollen and purpling. A wide gash split one cheek open and her lower lip was busted. Shadows around the sockets hinted at two black eyes to come. She looked like she’d gone a round with Muhammad Ali, and the sight of her like that stalled Ben’s heart in his chest.

             
“What in the
hell
happened?” he demanded in a voice that spun the doctor around.

             
“She took a green horse up the run,” Jeremy said. He was standing off to the side, arms folded, a splash of blood on his white polo: Jade’s blood. The look he cut toward Jade was discreetly disapproving. “She had no business doing that.”

             
The doctor – wet behind the ears and sporting peach fuzz that didn’t need shaving yet – retracted his light and said, “She’s got a mild concussion and probably a cracked rib or two. I’ve ordered x-rays.”

             
“I’m fine,” Jade said, and ruined the effect with a wince.

             
“Sure you are. Don’t make us wait with all this hospital bullshit,” he told the doctor. “Get us our x-rays.”

             
A more seasoned doc would have waved him off, but this kid bobbed a stiff nod and muttered, “Yes, sir.” He pulled a gown down off a cart and handed it to Jade. “Change into this, and someone’ll take you up soon.” He left with a furtive glance at Ben.

             
Jade managed to scrape together a frown. “You can’t order the doctors around, ass.”

             
He ignored her. “What were you thinking?”

             
“Yeah, I’d like to know that too,” Jeremy said. They made brief eye contact over the top of Jade’s head, startled to be in agreement.

             
“Ganging up on the injured girl? How sweet.” She pressed her hand to her ribs and took a shallow breath. “Okay, first off, I wasn’t doing anything I haven’t done a thousand times before. Young horses need de-spooking. I’ve been working Sky for three months and he’s making progress. I had no reason to think I was putting myself in danger.”

             
“Except you took some young, wild horse out in the pasture, by yourself,” Ben pointed out, unable to keep his tone gentle. She’d scared the hell out of him, and he was far from ready to calm down about it.

             
“I was doing my job,” she fired back. “That’s how I make money.” The outburst cost her: she breathed a moment, trying to wrest control of her face. Her pulse was pounding in the hollow of her throat and her stomach looked sunken and tight. When she could, she glanced up at him, a wild shine in her eyes. “There was someone there, Ben.” Her voice changed completely, soft and scared. They were alone, but she kept her words well within the barrier of the curtain. “In the woods: someone scared the horse. I saw a person out there, in the trees.”

             
Spending this much time around her was going to kill him. Fear streaked through him, knifing at his gut, tangy on the back of his tongue. He’d never been afraid for himself – not in the Corps, not on the force; his body couldn’t process that sensation, or so he’d thought. But when it came to Jade and Clara, he was a knotted ball of anxious terror. “What do you mean ‘someone?’”

             
Her face twitched. “I couldn’t tell who it was – man or woman; nothing – but I saw a
human being
back there, Ben. I’m not making this up. A
person
scared Sky.”

             
“I believe you,” he said, automatically, because he did. He fired a glance up at Jeremy. “Do kids play back there?”

             
Jeremy shrugged. “Who knows? Kids play everywhere.”

             
Ben frowned. He’d have to trust her instincts here, and he did, he realized, trust them. She’d worked with horses all her life; she was perceptive. And she’d been trusting him, implicitly, for years. “Do you think they were trying to spook the horse on purpose?”

             
She held his eyes a long moment – hers were glazed with pain – and a silent understanding passed between them. He wasn’t asking for proof, only a sense. What did she feel? Jade wet her lips. “Yeah, I do.”

             
“No offense, hon,” Jeremy said, “but you’ve been rattled for days. There’s a good chance it was just a kid, like the other night, you know?”

             
She frowned, and Ben answered for her: “If she says it was on purpose, then it was on purpose.”

             
Jeremy’s brows gave a little jump and Ben thought he almost smiled. “Fair enough.”

             
Ben didn’t understand that almost-smile, and he didn’t like it. “Put that on,” he told Jade, pointing to the gown in her lap. “And if they don’t get you up to x-ray I’m going to strangle someone.”

X-rays revealed that Jade had cracked two ribs. They were taped up (“Am I supposed to be able to breathe?” she asked the doctor with a half-smile-half-wince) and she was held overnight for observation of her concussion. “She’ll be fine,” the doctor – an age appropriate one this time – informed them all. Shannon stayed behind to spend the night with her. Ben strapped a crying Clara into his backseat and followed Jeremy back to Canterbury.

              It had been months since he’d helped Clara through her bath/bedtime routine, and tonight she was tearful and extra clingy, wanting her mommy. The entire process – from bundling her up in a towel to overseeing her brush her teeth – pulled a hundred heartstrings he’d thought nonexistent. And when she clung to his neck and asked for one more story before lights-out, he complied; he read
The Very Hungry Caterpillar
twelve times in a row, reclining against her headboard, her curled up in his lap like a cat, smelling of baby shampoo.

             
Jeremy was waiting for him in the kitchen. He’d washed and put away Clara’s dinner dishes and was eating something that smelled spicy at the table, turning through the pages of a horse magazine:
Dressage Today
, probably. He remembered.