Fear of Falling (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

W
HAT
O
LIVIA
'
S
FATHER
had said about horse racing was true. Tradition and history underpinned every aspect of the sport and at Hawthorne Racecourse, Olivia couldn't help but feel the ghost of the original owner, Edward Corrigan, who bought the land and ran the first five-race card in 1891.

As they unloaded Rowan from the trailer and met up with Curt, Rafe explained that the grandstand had burned down twice: once in 1902 and once in 1978. This was the first time Rafe had ever entered a horse at Hawthorne, or in any track in Illinois.

“The track is one mile,” Rafe explained, “but the homestretch is the longest in the country. I'm thinking this could be to Rowan's advantage.”

Olivia walked alongside Rowan, keeping her hand on his snout and wondering how he perceived the commotion and activity around him.

Dozens of pickups, RVs and tricked-out SUVs pulled horse trailers up to the stable area. Trainers, owners, jockeys and assistants lugged bridles, saddles, equipment, feed and even coolers across the paddock. Beautiful Thoroughbreds pranced across Olivia's path with an arrogance that could only come from an awareness that they were the best.

None of the animals were shy. None were in the least intimidated by their competition. They were princes and they knew it.

Curt led the way to Rowan's stall. “We've been assigned stall number eight. Jenny should be arriving any minute,” he said. “I just got a text from her. Her parents drove her up last night.”

“How lucky for us that her parents are supportive,” Rafe said, coming up behind Olivia. He lugged the saddle and bridle over his shoulder. “Rowan is comfortable with her and understands her signals. That's important.”

“I'm glad,” Olivia said as they entered the stable. Half the stalls were occupied and she saw two more horses entering right behind them.

The excitement in the air was as tangible as a fistful of spring pollen. The energy was infectious. Olivia felt her pulse speed up as she looked from Rafe's broad smile to Curt's gleaming, pride-filled eyes.

Rafe led Rowan into the stall and turned him around. “Come give Rowan a hug, Olivia. He'd like that. I have to help Curt for a minute and get the rest of our gear.”

She beamed back at him. “My pleasure.”

Olivia stood in front of the horse and stroked his nose. His coat was as smooth and velvety as sable. He gleamed like a prizefighter, and she was aware of how deep her affection for this proud and talented animal ran.

She peered into his eyes and once again, she saw and felt an emotion skimmed with joy emanate from him. “I love you, too.”

Rowan nickered and dropped his head. Then he craned his long neck around her shoulders and pulled her into him with a jerk. She flung her arms around him, kissed his cheek and closed her eyes.

She didn't need a camera to catch this moment. It would stay imprinted on her heart forever. This was the first horse she'd ever ridden, and she believed Rowan understood that it wasn't a coincidence that she'd waited all these years to have that special experience with him. Rowan might be Rafe's prize horse, but through her bond with Rowan, Olivia overcome her fear of riding.

“Hey, hey.” Rafe chuckled as he walked up to the stall. “You better not be trying to steal my girl.”

Olivia locked eyes with Rafe, a sweet smile playing across her lips. “He was trying, but he could never—”

Rafe dropped the load he was carrying, put his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Good. Because you are my girl, you know.”

* * *

O
LIVIA
SAT
IN
the box seats with the other owners and trainers and adjusted her camera lens as the final race of the day, the Graded III Stakes, was announced.

Through her viewfinder, she saw Rafe and Curt as they led Rowan to the starting gate. Jenny looked relaxed; she bent down and patted Rowan's neck and adjusted the reins.

As with the Indian Lake race, everything happened very quickly once the horses went to the post. The horn blasted and the announcer shouted so loudly that Olivia jumped. She missed her shot.

Clicking off photos, she realized what an advantage she'd had being in the judges' tower at Indian Lake. Within two seconds, she didn't have a good angle anymore and had to excuse herself and climb out of her row. She stood on the steps, hoping to get a better shot as the horses rounded the turn. She zoomed in on the leaders and saw Rowan among the front three runners, along with Luv Bandit and I Got It All.

Rafe had told her that Luv Bandit had won the Milwaukee Handicap the weekend before. He was the horse to beat, but already, Rowan was two lengths back. Olivia guessed Jenny didn't want to engage Rowan in a speed duel this early in the race. Saving strength for the “run down the lane” was the kind of expert strategy that could lead to a win.

By midstretch, Rowan had gained a narrow lead over I Got It All. Then Jenny used her lead to send Rowan to the inside, though Luv Bandit came up on the outside and really ground it down. Coming around the third turn and into the homestretch, Rowan's confidence was apparent.

All around her, Olivia heard the crowd cheering his name. She kept her mind on her work, but her heart wanted to scream encouragement.

“Come on, Rowan!” someone screamed beside her.

Olivia's fingers flew as she fired away at the camera. The view she had of the homestretch was flawless. She zoomed in for a few more shots of Rowan pulling away from Luv Bandit and leaving I Got It All in the show position.

The sun came out from behind a cloud and struck Rowan's flanks, making him look like a gleaming, glittering apparition as he shot over the finish line.

The crowd exploded in cheers and applause. Olivia couldn't help jumping up and down. A rotund, middle-aged man at the end of the aisle thrust his arms in the air and shouted, “I won!”

Olivia stood still and looked at the man. Without thinking she asked, “Did you bet on Rowan?”

“Oh, no. I never bet. But he won! He won! Isn't it exciting?”

Olivia couldn't contain her smile. “Yes! It's so exciting!” She turned around and watched the field as Rafe and Curt raced up to Jenny and Rowan. A man in a black business suit handed Jenny a bouquet of red roses. Another man came up and handed Rafe a trophy. Curt placed a shiny satin drape over Rowan's flanks.

With her camera to her face, Olivia clicked off more shots. Then she stopped, feeling an unfamiliar euphoria. She was covered with chills from her head to her knees. This was more than being happy for someone else. This was her own joy.

Gone was the anxiety, the roiling stomach, the caustic fear. The tentacles of anger that had ensnared her for so long over her father's choices, his weaknesses and his demons had vanished.

All she wanted was to share this moment with Rafe and Rowan, even though she was only a bystander.

Or was she?

Rafe had told her earlier that she was more. Her heart believed that to be true, and it had led her to reveal her greatest secret to him. And he'd been completely understanding. He hadn't judged her or disrespected her. He'd accepted her just the way she was.

She turned off her camera, pleased with the shots she'd taken today. Once she was home and had a chance to scrutinize them on her computer, she'd select the best ones and discard the others.

“They ought to make Albert sit up and take notice,” she said to herself as she followed the crowd out of the grandstand.

Albert.

Olivia had been so caught up in her confession to Rafe, the tearing down of the last remnants of her damaged psyche and then the exhilaration of the race, that she'd pushed all thoughts of the
Lexington Trophy Magazine
to the back of her mind. This was Rowan's day. Rafe's triumph. She'd concentrated so much on Rafe and his feelings that she'd forgotten about her own ambitions. Her own dreams.

Olivia knew deep in her cells that her photographs would prove to be some of her best work. They had the quality and edge that she believed Albert wanted.

I'll nail that job.

Suddenly, despair swept over Olivia like a disease, trampling her joy. Her smile faltered. Her gait slowed to a trudge as she neared Rafe and Rowan. They were surrounded by a bevy of photographers and fans who took pictures on their smartphones. Curt was being bombarded by questions from other trainers he seemed to know. Men in dress suits and ties shoved business cards into Rafe's hands.

Jenny's parents stood just outside the circle, and even they were being hounded by reporters and photographers.

Remembering Albert's order to get plenty of pictures of the winner's circle, Olivia turned her camera back on. She stood back and followed the angle of the sun as it cut through the clouds and sent a shaft of light down on Rowan. Jenny's red hair glimmered beneath her jockey's cap.

As if he sensed Olivia's presence, Rowan lifted his head, turned slightly and stared directly into the camera. She knew the instant she pressed the button that she had a cover photo.

Albert would be pleased.

Olivia lowered her camera as she realized she had only begun her confessions to Rafe.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

O
LIVIA
CAME
OUT
of the walk-in carrying a roaster with ten pounds of Italian beef that Julia had cooked over the weekend. They would use it to make beef sandwiches all week at the deli.

Olivia placed the roast on the butcher block and dried off the juices with a paper towel, then placed the meat on the slicing machine.

The sound of the buzzing blade helped drown out the self-recrimination on a loop in her head.

I should have told Rafe about the job. I should have explained that I'll have to move away. I should have thanked him for helping me overcome my fear of racing and for being a real friend. I definitely should have kissed him again and told him that I think I'm falling in love with him. I should have...

“Olivia, are you going to slice those crumbs, too?” Julia asked, coming over to the slicer and shutting it off.

“What?” Olivia looked at her mother and then down at the roast, which was now perfectly sliced. “I guess I'm done.”

Julia put her fingers under Olivia's chin and lifted her face. “Mind telling me what's going on with you?”

“What makes you think—”

“Olivia. Please. I'm your mother. I haven't seen you this glum since you lost that tennis match in high school.”

Olivia placed a piece of butcher paper over the meat and wiped her hands on a towel. “I have a lot to tell you.”

“You mean there's more besides the fact that you finally sent your photographs out to magazines?”

Olivia's mouth fell open. “Who told you that?” She frowned. “Let me guess. Mrs. Beabots?”

“She knows, too?”

Olivia felt every ounce of breath leave her body. “I didn't tell anyone but her.”

The sides of Julia's mouth turned down. “You didn't tell me. That part I know.”

“Please don't be hurt. I didn't want to tell you because if I got rejected, then you'd feel bad and I would feel bad and—”

Julia put her hands on Olivia's shoulders and stopped her with a maternal smile. “I know, sweetheart. And I appreciate your wanting to protect me.”

“Thank goodness. So,” Olivia asked, “who was it who told you?”

“Sarah.”

“Figures.”

“I'm assuming your gloomy mood is because you've had some bad news about that?” Julia offered.

“No, Mom. Actually, I'm being considered for a photojournalism job. It's mine for the taking. I just got the text from the editor in chief this morning.”

Julia's eyes narrowed. “What? How did this happen?”

“Last Wednesday when I asked for the day off, I went to Louisville and interviewed for a new magazine. The editor wanted to test me first, so when I went to the Illinois Derby with Rafe, I shot it for the magazine as a trial. Mom, those photos were the best of my life. Can you believe it? It's my dream come true!”

Julia threw her arms around Olivia. “I knew you were more than just good. Exceptional. You just needed to find out for yourself. This is wonderful news.” Julia backed away and peered at Olivia. “You should be happy, but all I see is sadness. What's the hitch?”

“He wants me to start on Thursday.”

“Thursday? That's...really...fast,” Julia said, pressing her palm to her cheek thoughtfully. “Can you even do that? I mean,
how
can you do that?”

“I've found an apartment near the offices there. It's vacant and I can move in as soon as I get there. I thought I'd just take a few things to start with, and later, I can rent a truck. I got a blow-up bed. I'll wing the rest.”

“Okay. You've got a handle on that part, I guess. Have you told your friends?”

“No. I wanted to tell you first. Then I'll tell everyone. Except, well, there's a problem.”

“And that problem would be Rafe Barzonni?”

Olivia's eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“I'm not blind, Olivia. You've been acting differently since the day we catered Angelo's funeral. Plus, I have very good hearing. I hear the sweet undertones in your voice when you talk about him—and his horse. But mostly Rafe.”

“I didn't realize I did that.”

“Are you in love with him, Olivia?” Julia asked, reaching up to caress Olivia's cheek.

“I'm afraid I am. And that's the problem.”

“I'm listening.”

“The night of the funeral, Rafe made me promise not to distribute Rowan's picture. Then Sarah put it on social media and it went viral. He was furious. I told him it wouldn't happen again. But my new boss specifically wants shots of Rowan in the winner's circle from Saturday's race.”

Julia shrugged. “So, you go to Rafe, explain the situation. He's an understanding kind of guy. It's not like half the world won't see those photos now. The Illinois Derby was televised, wasn't it?”

“No, but it might as well have been. It was streamed on the internet.”

“See? There you go. He can't hold you to that promise anymore, sweetheart. As far as I can tell, the issue is moot.”

“You really think so, Mom?”

“I do,” Julia said confidently.

* * *

O
LIVIA
DIDN
'
T
HAVE
to wait long to talk to Rafe. Just after the lunch crowd thinned out that day, he called and asked her to join the family for Monday night lasagna at the farm.

“I'd love to, Rafe,” Olivia said. “Can I bring anything? Salad?”

“I don't think so. My mother prides herself on her Italian cooking, as you might have guessed. But if you have any of your
macarons
lying around, I could go for a few. Or a dozen.”

“I'll see what I can do,” she promised, thanking him for the invitation and agreeing to show up at seven thirty.

Though she didn't have any fresh cookies, she always kept several dozen in the freezer.

After cleaning up and closing the deli for the afternoon, Olivia went home to change.

She stopped by the Indian Lake Nursery on the way to Rafe's farm and bought a pink hydrangea plant for Gina. It was precisely seven thirty when she drove up the long drive and parked behind the villa.

She grabbed the bakery box of
macarons
and the hydrangea and started for the back door. She had the odd thought that of all the times she'd come to this house, she'd never entered through the front door.

Was the back door considered the servants' entrance?

Or the family door?

Same door, different perspective. She admonished herself for dwelling on it and knocked.

From inside, she heard a woman's heels clicking across the ceramic tile floor. “Is that you?” Gina whisked the door open. “Olivia!” Her eyes fell to the massive pink blooms. “Is that for me?”

“It is,” Olivia replied, holding the flower out for her. “I know it's one of your favorites. It's forced, so you'll have to be careful we're well past frost before you put it outside.”

“How pretty and so sweet of you to remember! Come in,” Gina gushed. “I'm just putting the herb-and-garlic bread together.”

“Can I help you?” Olivia asked, following her into the kitchen.

Gina shook her head. “The table is set. Mica is getting ready. I sent Rafe to the wine cellar.” She smiled secretively. “One of Sam's best bottles. We're celebrating the win. Shh. I'm not supposed to tell you, but Rafe said it was important you be here. He says you're good luck for him and Rowan.”

Olivia blushed crimson red. “He said that?”

Rafe walked into the kitchen carrying a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and four red wineglasses. “I most certainly did. Mom wasn't supposed to spill,” he said good-naturedly. He put the bottle and glasses on the granite counter. Then he kissed Olivia's cheek. “Thanks for coming. It wouldn't be the same without you.”

“I don't know about that.” Olivia lowered her eyes, feeling guilty standing in their spotlight of affection. She hadn't expected Rafe to give her any credit for Rowan's victory. On the way over, she'd convinced herself that she had to tell him about Louisville tonight. She hadn't realized it was a special occasion, and the celebratory mood made her falter. It was bad enough that she had to explain she was moving out of state and that she'd used her photos of Rowan to land the position. But to do so when they had invited her over specifically to toast Rafe and Rowan's success? Olivia's stomach twisted with anxiety.

Gina tore romaine lettuce leaves and threw them in a big glass bowl. She added sliced Bermuda onion, fresh mushrooms, crisp bacon, hard-boiled eggs and shredded Parmesan cheese.

Mica walked into the kitchen wearing what Olivia privately considered the Barzonni dress code: blue jeans, pale blue cotton button-down shirt and cowboy boots. Although Mica was a year younger and an inch shorter than Rafe, the two looked like twins. Mica, however, didn't beam quite as brightly as Rafe. He was probably exhausted from a long day in the field.

“Hi, Mica.” Olivia smiled. “Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

“No,” Mica said, holding out his arm. “You're our guest tonight. Remember? I'll pour
you
some wine.”

Rafe, who had been helping Gina with the salad, donned a pair of oven mitts and took the lasagna out of the oven. The kitchen filled with the aroma of basil, oregano and fennel. “
Bellisimo
, Mama!” Rafe laughed and kissed Gina on the cheek. “This will be the best one yet.”

“I'd like to think so.” Gina shrugged apologetically. “But this was all I had left of last year's tomatoes. It's not the same when the tomatoes aren't fresh, and it's a long time till harvest. I refuse to use anyone's tomatoes but our own.”

They sat at the huge kitchen table, which Gina had covered with a blue-and-white Italian print linen cloth and matching napkins. Mica put the salad on the table, while Gina served up the plates with lasagna and bread.

Rafe poured wine for everyone and then offered a toast. “To Rowan's win. Our champion. And to Dad. This is your night, Papa.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

They all clinked glasses and then said a blessing.

* * *

A
FTER
DINNER
, M
ICA
helped Gina clean up the dishes and put the food away while Rafe walked Olivia down to the stable. “I figured you'd want to congratulate Rowan yourself,” he said, putting his hand on the small of her back.

Olivia slowed her pace and then stopped. It was now or never. “Rafe, could I talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” he replied, pausing beside her.

The sun was down and the solar garden lights had come on. They had just stepped out of the puddles of golden light that fell from the windows of the big house, and they were still far from the glow of the stable.

She lifted her eyes to his. “This is pretty serious.”

“Is it as serious as what we discussed on Saturday? Because I've been thinking—”

“No,” she cut him off. “It has nothing to do with that.” She glanced away, wondering how to say what she needed to say. “I have some news to tell you. Really good news, actually. For me. This is something I've been working toward for a long time. All my life, really.”

“This is about your photography?”

“Uh-huh.” She clasped and unclasped her hands. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and squeezed her arms. This was harder than she'd imagined. When she'd rehearsed her speech in front of the mirror, it had seemed to roll off her tongue, but now, looking into his eyes, which were so dreamy and filled with the kind of caring she'd always hoped to find in a man, she lost her nerve.

But she couldn't back out now. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I don't know exactly how I did it, but I finally had the courage to send my work out to some publishers. Magazines, mostly. I got a lot of rejections. It was amazing how fast they turned me down.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “It's okay. You keep at it. Someone is bound to see what I see.”

“What's that?”

He grinned widely. “That you're the best photographer on the planet.”

“Well, one magazine thinks I may have what it takes. They gave me a test assignment of sorts and they liked my work. In fact, they called before I came to dinner. They want to hire me.”

Rafe didn't react immediately, but then his eyes lit up like bonfires. “That's great, Olivia! We have another victory to celebrate.”

She chewed her bottom lip and sucked in a breath. He probably assumed the publication was local. He was simply happy for her achievement. But was it possible that she meant enough to him that her aspirations were important to him, as well? For much of her life, she'd been closed off. She'd kept a lot of her deep troubles and feelings to herself. She hadn't wanted to bother anyone with her phobias or sorrows. People had their own problems. They didn't need to be burdened with more. She hadn't allowed anyone to get close to her.

Except Rafe.

She'd told him things she hadn't expressed even to her mother. Of course she hadn't wanted to hurt Julia, but digging down, she realized she'd feared rejection. She'd been afraid people wouldn't accept her, being the daughter of an addict. The offspring of someone so flawed and diseased who he'd abandoned his family. Olivia had assumed that people would think she was as weak as her father.

And had her father been weak? Or had he been strong to leave them? In his way, had he saved them from further pain?

Olivia's head throbbed with anguish as each conclusion led to another question still unanswered, still tormenting her.

“Rafe, there's something else. About the job. It's in Louisville.”

“Louisville.” He said the syllables precisely, as if forcing them to register in his head.