If Wishes Were Horses (3 page)

“I dunno what you're talking about,” Ram answered. “All I want is a nice, quiet drink, and then dinner with my family. When in hell did everybody's vehicles become my problem?”

“Uh-huh,” Sissy answered. She looked over at Jack and Esther. “Come on, kids. Let's go inside and see Aunt Lou.”

Ram and Wyatt drank in silence for a while as the sun set in earnest, the evening dew gathered, and the night creatures started to sing. This was Wyatt's favorite time of day at the ranch. The hard, physical work was usually finished, and the first bourbon of the night was settling comfortably into his bones. For all he cared, everyone could just leave him out here while they feasted on fried chicken and shared the latest Boca gossip.

It was Ram who finally broke the silence. Lifting his long legs from the rail, he set his boots on the porch floor and leaned forward in his chair. When he next gazed at Wyatt, there was a softer look in his eyes. He patted Wyatt on one knee.

“Let's go inside, son,” he said. “Krista and Danny will be here soon, and then we can start.”

Wyatt closed his eyes for a moment.
And there it is,
he realized.
Part of my father has abandoned him again, leaving us to wonder when—if ever—it will return.

Doing his best to smile, Wyatt looked back at his father. “You go ahead, Dad,” he answered softly. “I'll wait here for Krista and Danny.”

“Good boy,” Ram said. His gait a bit slower than usual, Ram walked into the house.

Wyatt took another sip of bourbon as he stared at the family cemetery. Aunt Lou had been wrong. Come tomorrow, she would have to describe this evening to Ram after all.

R
EVEREND JACOBSON SAT
behind his office desk at St. Andrew's, trying his best to control his nervousness. There was no doubt that the butterflies in his stomach were the result of his own scheming. Sighing, he silently asked the Lord for strength as he fought back his seemingly never-ending need for a cigarette.

Gabrielle Powers, or “Gabby,” as she was known to friends and family, sat in a guest chair before Jacobson's desk. At thirty-five she remained a very attractive woman. Her long, dark hair was styled like something from the forties, parted on one side and waving to her shoulders. Arching brows rested above her large hazel eyes, and her chin held just a hint of a cleft. Her figure was still excellent, due in no small part to her lifelong love of swimming. Although her clothes and shoes were not expensive, they were stylish and chosen with care.

Even though Jacobson had invited her here today, she, too, was ill at ease. She knew that Wyatt Blaine was scheduled to arrive soon, supposedly to discuss the final details of his revived program with the reverend. Wyatt knew Gabrielle only by sight, and he was unaware that she would be there. As she looked at the reverend, her face revealed her nervousness about tricking Wyatt in this way.

Two weeks had passed since Wyatt had told Jacobson of his plans. As Wyatt requested, Jacobson made several announcements from the pulpit regarding the revived horse-therapy program. In the meantime, Wyatt visited the local schools. There he handed out fliers, and patiently conducted question-and-answer sessions with scores of teachers, students, and parents.

The response had been excellent, and thirty-four teens had enrolled. Wyatt had called Jacobson to say that the number was adequate, and that the program would start one week from next Monday. Wyatt also added that Ram wanted this program to happen, come hell or high water. Moreover, Ram demanded that Jacobson put in a good word with the Lord, to ensure that neither of those inconveniences occurred. Despite his nervousness, Jacobson smiled.

But hell has little to do with this,
he thought.

Then again, he couldn't be sure of Wyatt's reaction to Gabby, and this might become a hellish meeting after all. He was taking a chance, and Wyatt might be as likely to storm out and never set foot in St. Andrew's again as to agree with Jacobson's jarring request.

Perhaps worse, he might alienate the entire Blaine family.
Jacobson knew that losing the support of the Blaines would be a harsh blow to St. Andrew's. He also realized that Gabby had much to lose should Wyatt decline. She and Jacobson would succeed today, or they would fail miserably, for with Wyatt Blaine there would be no middle ground.

And therein lies the rub,
Jacobson thought.

As when Krista ran the program, Jacobson was involved not only because he could use his pulpit to inform parents about it, but also because he had counseled some of his parishioners about their difficult teenagers, and knew their problems intimately. He also knew that Gabby and Trevor would be a special case, and so he had decided to ask Gabby to meet him here, at his office.

Leaning forward, Jacobson placed his palms flat on the desk. “Don't worry, my dear,” he said. “Wyatt's a reasonable man. I think we can convince him.”

Trying to quell her nervousness, Gabby reached down and smoothed out her skirt. She was willing to endure this meeting for Trevor's sake, but even if Wyatt agreed, she wondered if Trevor would participate. Trevor had revered his late father, and he had always been an obedient child. But since he'd become a teen, Trevor's behavior had been a growing problem.

“I hope so,” she said.

“Don't be discouraged,” Jacobson answered. “I've known Wyatt for a long time. But if this is to work, we have to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Jacobson sighed and sat back in his chair.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
he thought.
We'll soon see about that
.

Despite her concerns, Gabby was forced to agree with the
reverend. Jacobson and St. Andrew's had been a great source of strength for her since the death of her husband. Jason had been hard on her sometimes, and he had surely possessed his unfair share of faults. Even so, his unexpected death had hit her hard, and Trevor harder.

Like most people in Boca, Gabby knew of the Blaine family. She was also aware that, like herself, Wyatt was a member of St. Andrew's. Although they had never spoken, she knew him by sight. She had also noticed that he always left the services early.

“Can you tell me something?” Gabby asked. “Why does Mr. Blaine always leave the service during the blessings?”

Jacobson sighed. “If I tell you, you've got to keep it just between us. If Wyatt knew, he'd skin me alive. It's not some great secret, Gabby. Rather, it's because Wyatt mustn't learn that you heard it from me. I'm already risking enough ill will just by asking you here today.”

“I promise,” she answered.

Jacobson stared down at the desktop for a time before answering. “The reason is simple,” he said. “Krista and Danny died on Wyatt's thirty-fifth birthday. They were hosting a party for him, and their house was full of well-wishers. Krista and Danny were killed when they went out to buy some extra ice cream, of all things. His brother, Morgan, took the phone call from the police then informed Wyatt in front of all the guests. Morgan has never forgiven himself for not ushering Wyatt into another room to tell him. But in his defense, Morgan was in shock and not thinking straight either. Because his family died on his birthday and because
the blessings are in part about the celebration of such days, Wyatt finds it impossible to stay.”

“My God,” Gabby breathed. “I never knew that.”

“Not many people do,” Jacobson said. “Wyatt has dated a few women since, but nothing meaningful ever developed. For a while I believed that reviving Krista's program would help him to heal and to get on with his life. But lately I worry more and more that Wyatt might be doing it for the wrong reasons.”

“I don't understand,” Gabby said.

“Wyatt says that this is what Krista would have wanted,” Jacobson said, “and that's certainly true. The New Beginnings Program was her baby, through and through. Make no mistake—he wants to help troubled teens, just as Krista did. But I worry that this is his way of living in the past rather than embracing the future. He even took a sabbatical from his family law firm so that he could personally manage the project. I understand that he's looking for closure, but I fear that his decision might only further insulate him from the world. I also suspect that providing the program free of charge is his way of ensuring that enough teens will enroll. The last thing he wants is to see Krista's dream fail on his watch.”

As Jacobson waited for Wyatt to arrive, he regarded Gabby from the other side of his desk. He liked Gabby and Trevor very much. He had never been able to say the same, however, of Gabby's late husband.

From the start, Gabby's marriage had been troubled. She had realized that Jason was more than a social drinker, but only after their marriage did she learn how bad his habit truly was. When
Trevor was born, Gabby stopped teaching and the financial pressures mounted. Because he could no longer count on Gabby's income, Jason worked even harder. But he also started drinking more to cope with all the newfound stress.

The final straw came without warning. Late one night, Jason stumbled through the doorway of their home, blind drunk and enraged over a lucrative real estate deal that had gone bad that afternoon. He slammed his fist into Gabby's face, knocking her to the floor. For several moments she simply lay there, dazed and unbelieving.

The ensuing divorce process was heart wrenching and expensive. Gabby's parents did their best to help her and Trevor financially, but they were not well off. Just as the divorce was to become final, Jason died. And he took two innocent people with him.

Jason's death benefits helped for a time, but Gabby soon realized that she would have to return to work. And so she decided to accept another position teaching history. After a time she also started coaching the girls' swim team. The town house she rented in Boca for herself and Trevor was pricy, but lovely.

With Jason gone, Trevor became her entire world. She tried to be a good disciplinarian, and most of the time she succeeded. But sometimes, when real sternness was called for, she remembered how much Trevor mourned his late father, and she couldn't bring herself to enforce the tough love that her son so badly needed.

Trevor was fourteen now, and although he had yet to embroil himself in serious trouble, Gabby could see it coming. But as a single parent, she was unable to afford counseling for him. Then, to her surprise, Jacobson called her at home, asking her to come
and discuss the New Beginnings Program. Only after her arrival at the church did she learn that it was Wyatt Blaine's program, and that he was also attending this meeting.

At first Gabby wanted to be angry with Jacobson for not telling her everything. But as she sat waiting, her anger morphed into a kind of nervous hopefulness. Not only would she be talking to Wyatt for the first time, but to a certain degree he would be passing judgment on her and her son.

Although she loved Trevor and enjoyed her job, Gabby remained lonely. The few dates she had gone on since Jason's death had been disappointing, to say the least.

One man who took her to dinner ended up talking about himself the entire night. After she refused to sleep with another, he tersely announced that he was married, anyway. Marriage suited Gabby, but it seemed that the possibility of finding a good man to share her life was becoming more of a dream than a reality. She had made a mistake once, and she couldn't help but worry about her ability to make the right choices in men.

She was a modern woman, but at the same time she could be stubbornly old-fashioned about certain things, and finding romantic love was one of them. She would rather remain lonely than surrender her deepest hopes and dreams to some matchmaking service to synthetically produce a chapter in her life that she believed should unfold naturally. For her, such artificial measures took the magic out of the experience and reduced it to a mere business deal. She wanted the fairy tale, that much was true. But she was just stubborn and traditional enough to want it without the contrivances, or not at all.

“What was she like?” she asked Jacobson.

“Who?” he asked in return.

“Wyatt's late wife. What was she like?”

After rummaging through one of his desk drawers, Jacobson produced a framed photograph. He handed it to Gabby. “That's Krista in the back row, third from the right.”

Gabby looked at the photo. It had been shot outdoors and at night. Ten people were included, and everyone was dressed in formal attire. The woman to whom Jacobson had referred was tall and pretty. She had a bright smile and wayward, dirty blond hair. Wyatt stood beside her. On the other side of Wyatt stood a boy with brown hair, his grin wide and toothy. Aside from Wyatt, the reverend was the only other person she recognized.

“Krista was pretty,” Gabby said. “And I see that you're in the photo, too. Where was this picture taken?”

“That was six years ago, at the Flying B annual ball,” Jacobson answered. “The Blaines hold the ball each year largely as a way to reinforce their many business relationships. While Krista's program was in effect, all the New Beginnings teens and their parents were invited, too. I suppose that's how it will be this year as well. Aunt Lou—she's the Flying B's cook, chief, and bottle washer—always caters enough food and booze to feed an army. Wyatt and Morgan's father is named Ram, and he's a real piece of work! He started the tradition some forty years ago. Out of respect, the only exception was the year Danny and Krista died. The ball is always held on the last Saturday of May. That's not far away, now that I think of it.”

“You still haven't told me about Krista,” Gabby said.

Jacobson sighed and laced his fingers. “She was everything to Wyatt. They met at school, while she was finishing her PhD in psychology. After she and Danny passed, Wyatt sold the house and moved back to the ranch. He's lived there ever since.”

“And so he went home,” Gabby answered.

Jacobson nodded.

“And Mr. Blaine's equine-therapy program?” Gabby asked. “I still don't know much about it, save that you believe in it. To tell you the truth, horses have always scared me. Would Trevor be in good hands there?”

“The best,” Jacobson answered. “The staff consists of psychologists and specially selected ranch hands. The goal is to help troubled teens with a combination of group psychotherapy and equestrianism. The theory is that if they're given an animal to bond with and care for, the teens find that their psychotherapy takes on added meaning. Although there are various forms of equine therapy, Krista's New Beginnings Program was of her own devising.”

“I see,” Gabby said. “It sounds wonderful.”

Jacobson nodded. “Krista and her team helped many teens while her program was in place. I can only hope that the results will be the same this time as well.”

“I'm sure that's true,” Gabby said. “But Trevor's deteriorating behavior scares me to death. In all honesty, if this doesn't work, I don't know what will end up happening to him.”

Just then an insistent knock came on the office door. “Come in,” Jacobson said.

Stella Branch opened the door and walked into the office.
She was a black, matronly woman in her midfifties who was well known as Jacobson's secretary and also his strong right arm. Often he would have been lost had it not been for her superb organizational skills. Stella was also Jacobson's sounding board for his newly minted sermons. Unless a new sermon got an enthusiastic thumbs-up from Stella, it went straight into the shredder.

“Mr. Blaine is here,” she said. “He's waiting outside.”