Rain Shadow (9 page)

“Yeah, that’s so helpful right now,” Taylor muttered under her breath. Unhappy to lose the security of Toby’s backend, Rain began dancing a nervous jig.

“She’ll be fine,” Liz shouted back without turning around, “just give her a kick.”

Taylor watched water splash up around Toby’s belly as he made his way to the dirt trail on the other side of stream. Water pulled at the horse’s legs and soaked half of his tail.

Taylor could feel Rain’s heart beat pounding under her calves as her own anxiety turned to terror. She sensed the mare’s intense fear and as her heart began beating triple time she disappeared into an agonizingly familiar place. She tried in vain to slow her breathing as the sound of the water roared around her.

It will be fine.

Taylor knew what it felt like to be told all would fine when everything around her screamed otherwise. The words were not convincing. Not now, not the last time she’d heard them from a nurse while lying on a clinic recovery table, shell-shocked. 

Taylor laid a shaky hand on Rain’s neck, slick with sweat, as the mare continued to dance and toss her
head. She willed herself to be strong, to say something comforting to the horse, but her lips remained frozen. Instead, details of that day returned in excruciating detail.

Trauma intensifies memory
.
Indeed. She remembered the clinic exam room in living color: the benign, sherbet green colored walls; the number of cotton balls that remained in a glass jar on the countertop—eleven; the spider-like pattern of water damage in a ceiling tile overhead;
a
Better Homes and Garden
s
magazine lying on the seat of a blue chair in one corner of the room advertising that inside one could discover an easy way to make a layer cake from scratch.

When the nurse bent over her, Taylor noted the fine lines around her eyes, counted four dark mustache hairs on the woman’s upper lip, and considered the freshly applied mauve lipstick smeared on a front tooth.  The woman’s mouth had spoken then, her breath smelling of onion, and uttered four words of a lie. She and Rain both knew better than to trust someone who tried to convince them everything would be fine.

“Taylor!”

Opening her eyes, Taylor focused on the concerned twitching face of Liz only a few feet away.

“Are you okay?”

“I … she …,” Taylor gestured at the swirling mountain stream. “We were afraid. It looks too deep.”

“Just follow me step by step.” Liz spoke confidently above the sound of the water. “We’ll let Rain be as close as she needs. Can you do that?”

Taylor nodded, feeling like a mental patient.

Toby turned back to the stream and Taylor urged Rain to follow. Each step or two Toby stopped and Liz looked back. “Doing okay?”

“Yep.”

Taylor looked down at the water rushing around Rain’s legs. The mare continually turned her head to allow her eye to check the surface of the stream. Occasionally she snorted at the spray of water over the rocks.

“She’ll get better at this. You both will.” Liz’s voice was reassuring as they plodded into the center of the stream. “Let’s just stop here and stand a minute. Rain can get comfortable being in the water and hearing it rush around her.”

As they waited it occurred to Taylor that nothing had actually changed in the last few minutes. She still felt vulnerable and breathless, Rain’s heart still pounded, they could still both slip and fall into the icy water at any moment. The difference was someone stood by in case that should happen. She was not alone.

On the ride back to the trail head Liz remained silent as if she knew Taylor didn’t want to talk or, for that matter, listen. There had been enough horsemanship lessons for one day. After
untacking and loading the horses in the trailer, Liz finally spoke.

“I shouldn’t have left you at that stream. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m learning, right?”

“Yes you are.” Liz looked concerned, “Are you afraid now?”

“I’m up for trying again. You said Rain will get used to compensating for having only one eye. Plus, I hope to become a better leader for her.”

Liz nodded vigorously, “You will. Absolutely. In two weeks the Back Country Horsemen are hosting a ten mile fall foliage poker ride at
a great spot. We can squeeze a couple rides in before then to get you ready. But only if you want.”

“I want.” 



Chapter 11

I

t was interesting how much you could learn about someone just by paying attention. It took a few days of feeding time ritual, but one day Taylor realized that Rain was careful to avoid allowing anyone to surprise her on the blind side. She moved thoughtfully and precisely, so subtle an untrained eye would miss the mare’s protective defenses.

Each morning the routine was the same: approach a nickering horse bobbing its head in greeting over the gate, rub her neck a few times, and then retrieve thick flakes of grass hay from the feed shed. Taylor always inhaled deeply as the hay tickled her cheeks—the smell of sunshine. Upon entering the paddock, Rain would back off a few steps and wait while Taylor dropped the food. The horse then lowered her muzzle into the hay.

There was something soothing and relaxing about listening to a horse eat. Taylor thought the snuffling sounds of chewing should be recorded onto a CD and sold as mood music, like the nature sound tracks of rain drops, thunder, and water trickling.

It was in those very aware moments of listening that Taylor first noticed Rain’s injury had affected the mare beyond the physical injury and loss of vision. Even if her head was in the hay, Rain was not comfortable with Taylor standing on the blind side for more than a few seconds. If she continued to stand out of the horse’s line of sight, Rain would back up one or two steps and swing her body to position Taylor within view of her seeing eye. Though the maneuver seemed relaxed, even methodical, and the mare never lifted her head, Taylor recognized meaning behind the move. A betrayal of trust had left its mark on Rain’s horsy soul.

Vulnerability felt uncomfortable. Taylor got that. And so she made note of Rain’s sensitivity and catered to her comfort, making sure to stand on the seeing side during their few moments of bonding each morning and evening. At those times Taylor would hum something, whatever song from the radio had stuck in her head, and scratch the mare’s withers while she ate. Sometimes Rain nickered into the hay, a quiet “Thank You,” or so it seemed, for accommodating an insecurity.

Noticing details were key. The horse gave Taylor an opportunity to lose awareness of
herself and focus it on another. Self awareness had become painful, like spending a sunny day outside without glasses.

~  ~~

Morning rush had long since passed by the time Taylor arrived at
Holy Grounds. A clock on the wall announced the lunch hour was about
to pass, too, and she watched Melissa rummage through her backpack and pull out a plastic baggie with what looked like nuts inside.

“Time for a snack.” Melissa plopped into a chair, leaned back, and put her feet up on the counter. Bare white skin peeked between red Converse sneakers and the cut, frayed bottoms of a pair of jeans. A Japanese character was tattooed on the side of one ankle.

“Those look weird,” Taylor gestured toward the baggie, “what are they?”

“Sprouted almonds.” Melissa popped several nuts into her mouth and chewed. After swallowing she added, “They’re super good for you.”

“Why would anyone want to sprout almonds?” Taylor wrinkled her nose.  “I only like smoked.”

“Figures,” Melissa eyed Taylor’s pack of cigarettes. “Not that you’d care, but the high heat involved with smoking and roasting almonds kills off nutrients. Plus there’s usually added fat and chemicals for flavor. Sprouted almonds are the healthiest.”

Taylor shook her head, retrieved the cigarettes, and hid them in a jacket pocket. Laughter bubbled out of her throat.

“Something funny?”

“Yeah, you’re funny. You just don’t look like someone who’d care much about being healthy—freakishly healthy.”

“Why? Because of my piercings,
tatts, wild sense of style?” Melissa grinned and fingered the large silver skull charm hanging from a choker.

“Exactly that.”

“Think of me as Abby fro
m
NCI
S
. If I knew any nuns I’d take them bowling.” Melissa crunched another handful of healthy nuts.

Taylor giggled again. “My Dad would love you.”

“What’s he like? Besides being a man of obvious good taste.”

Taylor hesitated only a moment, “He’s gay.”

Melissa’s expression remained neutral. “That always how you describe
him when someone asks?”

“It’s usually all people want to know.”

“You ashamed of him?”

“No,” Taylor’s voice rose and she shook her head vigorously. “My dad might be the kindest man I know. It’s just … weird to explain to people. My life has been weird. Not exactly a traditional family, you know?”

“Traditional family? I saw one of those once,” Melissa snorted, “in a museum. I was raised by the son of one of my mom’s many boyfriends. No traditions found in my life, sister.”

“I love my dad,” Taylor continued, “I just wish he were more involved
in my life. I have an adopted brother who has cystic fibrosis. A bad case. Doctors say he won’t make it past 15.”

“And you wish you could get noticed without developing a terminal illness or breaking the law.”

“How do you know that?” Taylor bit her lip, ashamed her weaknesses were so obvious. “Is that wrong?”

Melissa stared back at her for several moments, her eyes sadder and
wiser than her years. “It’s not wrong. Maybe by helping a sick kid nobody
else wanted your dad’s trying to atone for something. Like not giving you that traditional family.”

“I never thought about that,” Taylor stared at the milky grey sky outside the coffee shop window.

“Well, I don’t know the man, but people do lots of things to atone for their choices. Like my mother giving me a car once for no reason. Personally, I’m trying to minimize the things I’ll have to atone for someday. I want to make a life I’m proud of. Speaking of which, Real Estate Queen, what do you make of this?” Melissa pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded into a neat square and handed it over. Taylor unfolded it and saw two pictures of Holy Grounds. Under the photos large block letters announce
d
FOR SAL
E
.

“Wow, looks like you and I may be out of a job soon.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Melissa’s eyes narrowed and she dropped her legs from the counter top and sat up straighter. “I’m going to try to buy this place. I’ve been taking that business class and we both know who makes the best coffee in this town. I’ve got loads of ideas about marketing, getting interactive with customers on the internet—making a little coffee community!”

Melissa was talking fast and gesturing wildly as she paced the interior square of the coffee house. Taylor couldn’t remember ever seeing her so animated. Suddenly she paused and looked at Taylor, a happy grin plastered across her face.

“All I need is a real estate agent to represent my financial best interests.”
She raised her eyebrows, “Know of anyone?” 



Chapter 12

T

aylor shook a generous amount of “whitener” into the chipped purple mug. Instead of dissolving, it floated into a tiny white blimp and drifted across the surface of the coffee. If you could call it that. Taylor stabbed the clump of chalky creamer with a stir stick and watched it struggle to dissolve into the tan-colored liquid. Melissa would die from caffeine withdrawals before allowing the foul substance to touch her lips.

“Mmmm, you already know how I like it—white, but not too sweet. Kinda like my women.” He winked. Taylor read the slogan on the side of the mug as Steve lifted it to his lips and took a long slug of the brew
—
Real Estate Agents Do It Without Contingencies.

Steve wiped at a trickle of coffee that dripped down the edge of the mug, making triple tan dots on the white shirt that strained to cover his engorged belly. Hair poked through the spaces between buttons.

“Guess I got a hole in my lip … Now, where was I?”

That would be a hole in your head I think.

It took all her effort to avoid visually broadcasting her disgust for the man. Keeping her face neutral, Taylor sank into the chair opposite Steve and pretended to be vitally interested in what he had to say. She focused on the tarnished football trophy by his computer that proudly proclaime
d
State Champions 1990.