The Lost Hours (47 page)

Keeping my voice down, I said, “Lucy, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m riding a horse instead of a pony.”

“Lucy,” I said, my voice firmer, “that’s not a horse you’ve been given permission to ride.”

“But look, Miss Piper. I got on him all by myself and I’m riding him now. See? I can do it.”

“Yes, Lucy. We never said that you weren’t capable. Only that this horse is special and you’re inexperienced. He was neglected and probably abused by his previous owners. Which means that his behavior might prove to be unpredictable if he feels as if he’s being threatened in any way.”

She smiled broadly beneath her riding helmet. “But I’m riding him, and he’s listening to me. See?” Lucy squeezed her legs against his flank and Captain Wentworth responded by moving into a trot while Lucy posted, the horse’s gait measured and beautiful, and I felt the old longing again.
I want to jump. I want to jump high.

I began to feel uncomfortable. “That’s enough, Lucy. Move Captain Wentworth back to the mounting block now, please.”

“But look how good I am. See? I’m going to show you that I can jump, too.”

Horrified, I looked around the ring and saw that she’d set up two cross rails—not inherently dangerous except for an inexperienced rider on an unpredictable and very large horse.

“I can do it. Watch!”

I stared in horror as her pigtails, as if in slow motion, bounced on her riding jacket. “Lucy, stop. Right now. This isn’t the way to learn.”

At Lucy’s urging, Captain Wentworth picked up to a fast canter.

“Lucy—pull the reins to the left, get him to turn away.”

But the little girl stuck out her chin and continued to move forward, somehow managing to stay in the saddle. I began walking toward her, controlling my movements so as not to excite the horse further, as she circled the ring one last time and Captain Wentworth began heading toward the first cross rail with no intention of slowing down to step over it. He was a show horse, and he was going to jump over any obstacle.

I made it in time to see Captain Wentworth clear the rail, landing with a cloud of dust. Buoyed by his success, he shot forward in an effort to gain more speed. His forward motion caught Lucy by surprise, and as I moved toward her, I watched her begin to slide, her slight legs easily losing purchase on the saddle with each movement from the horse. I jumped back as Captain Wentworth cantered in front of me, close enough that I could see the look in Lucy’s eyes—an astonishing look of exhilaration with the beginning gleam of fear.

Stubbornly, she managed to hold on and even regain her seat in the saddle, but the horse was going too fast now for her to control him.

“Sit back, Lucy. Sit back!”

He sailed past the second cross rail, but my relief was short-lived as I realized he was heading for a four-foot vertical somebody had left in the ring. My mind moved slowly as I watched, impotent in my terror as Captain Wentworth got nearer with every intention of sailing over it, and Lucy equally determined to go over it with him.

Sensing Lucy’s hesitation, the horse’s steps faltered and he ran out of the jump, close enough to clip Lucy with the side of the boards and send her sliding to the ground. She landed with a solid thud and a cloud of dust, and I heard the
whoosh
of air rush from her lungs.

I reached her side before the dust settled, then knelt beside her to make sure I could see her chest rise and hear her breathe. The relief gripped me like a gloved hand but I didn’t relax into it. “Can you hear me?”

She nodded, indicating her neck wasn’t broken, and then I let out my breath before peering into her eyes to make sure they were focused and making contact with me. Her cheeks were pale, but she’d started to gulp in air and wasn’t indicating any pain in her chest to show broken ribs. Methodically, I began checking her bones, one by one, just the way medics had done to me more times than I could count.

Her breath was becoming more normal and her eyes were following me. I cupped her chin in my hands. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

She nodded and I bit my lip.

“Where does it hurt?”

Her brown eyes were somber. “Everywhere.”

I stifled a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I know. But does it really hurt in any one place?”

She shook her head.

“I’m going to take off your riding boots and I’m going to ask you to wiggle your toes, okay?”

Lucy nodded and watched as I took off one boot and then the other, smiling to myself when I noticed her socks had blue ribbons printed all over them.

“Let me see you wiggle your toes.”

She did, and then we worked our way around her body, making sure everything worked by wiggling it on command. Captain Wentworth stayed where he was, oblivious to the near trauma but I thought his arrogant head toss told me everything I wanted to know.
See? I could have made it.

I helped Lucy to a sitting position and we sat there for a while to make sure she still felt all right. I stood and went to Captain Wentworth and allowed him to nuzzle me. I couldn’t scold him; he’d done exactly what Lucy had wanted him to.

I turned to Lucy to see if she was ready to stand, and was surprised to see her scooting backward, away from Captain Wentworth. “Lucy?”

“I don’t want to ride him anymore.”

“What do you mean? Are you hurt and not telling me?”

She shook her head, her eyes managing not to leave Captain Wentworth.

“Then you need to get back on.” Something stilled inside of me, like the stillness of the pond in the first hours after dawn. The words came to me, diluted and muffled as if they were coming from under water, but I heard them, remembered them as if they’d been spoken to me only the day before. “Or else you forget the reason you used to get up on the horse in the first place.”

She stared hard at me. “But you didn’t get back on.”

I stared back, realizing the words were spoken without animosity and matter-of-factly as only children can.

“That was different,” I began.

“How?”

I wanted to stop and ask her how someone so young could be so wise, and how she knew about the argument I’d been having with myself for more than six years.

“Because . . .” I fumbled for words, realizing how easy they were to find. “Because nobody was there to tell me to.”

She leaned back on her arms in the dirt, her eyes innocent. “But I’m here now. Why don’t you get back on and start riding again, Miss Piper?”

I turned to look at Captain Wentworth, as if he could add something to the conversation. And then I remembered my other reason, as compelling as any other. I’d never admitted it to anyone, and had only begun to acknowledge it myself but there it was, the pink elephant in the middle of the room that I’d been trying to ignore.

I swallowed, trying to think of words an eight-year-old would understand. “Because I used to be really, really good, and people would come to see me and they’d all cheer and clap for me because I was that good. But now . . .” I shrugged, wondering if even I understood. “Now I’m not great anymore. I’m probably not even any good, for that matter. I don’t . . . I don’t want to get up on a horse again after all this time and find out that I’m just another rider.”

Her delicate eyebrows were folded sharply over her eyes. “But, Miss Piper, I’m here now. And I promise to clap and cheer for you if you get in that saddle right now and ride. And then it’ll be my turn.”

I looked at her, trying to find a way to win this argument, and I realized that I couldn’t. I turned back to Captain Wentworth. His ears twitched and his tail moved slowly from side to side, as if waiting for my answer. His scar seemed more vivid, as if he were trying to show me that I wasn’t alone.
Or else you forget the reason you used to get up on the horse in the first place.
Had my grandmother said those words to teach us both about persevering no matter how many times you fell off? And had she ever harbored hope that I could in turn teach her how very true they were? In that respect I’d failed her, but maybe Lucy was offering me a second chance.

Without thinking, I checked the girth. The saddle would be small, but I’d manage. I picked up the reins from the ground and began to lead Captain Wentworth to the mounting block.

“Miss Piper—wait.”

I turned around. Lucy was standing, her stockinged feet in the dust, and she was handing me her fluorescent purple crop. I’d always wanted a colorful one as a young girl, and my grandfather had always said no, that they weren’t for serious riders. But there’d been one wrapped under the Christmas tree one year with a tag that read from both of my grandparents, but it hadn’t occurred to me until now who’d really given it to me.

“And this, too.” She ran to the fence surrounding the ring and took an adult riding hat sitting on the top rail. “This is Miss Andi’s—she left it here yesterday. It should fit.”

With a nod of thanks, I took the crop and the hat, then led Captain Wentworth to the mounting block. I lengthened the stirrup leathers before placing my left foot into the iron, and before I could talk myself out of it, I threw my right leg over his back. He stayed perfectly still as we both got used to each other and I fought the urge to dismount again.

I wasn’t wearing riding boots, so I was at a disadvantage, but I nudged Captain Wentworth into a walk with a slight pressure from my calves. Lucy backed up and lifted herself onto the fence so she could watch me, just as she’d promised. Today the familiar rhythm of the horse’s gait and the sound of hooves on packed earth held no fear for me; instead they were like a lullaby sung by my mother but forgotten long ago. I allowed myself to be lulled, then squeezed my calves into his side a little more and began to trot.

Maybe this will be enough,
I thought as I moved swiftly around the perimeter of the ring. Captain Wentworth’s long stride covered the ground quickly, the wind washing over my face and into my open mouth, making me realize that I was smiling.

“Nice transition, Miss Piper,” Lucy called out.

Yes. Yes, it was.
I smiled more broadly and continued in a posting trot, feeling Captain Wentworth’s restraint underneath me and my own restraint in the tension in my hands on the reins.
I want to move. I want to soar.
It was as if the horse had spoken out loud and I had shouted assent because I tightened my reins and signaled for the canter, feeling the horse reaching farther. My body adjusted to the rhythm as if it had never forgotten how, my heart adjusting to the joy of it as if it had.

From the corner of my eye I watched as Lucy opened the gate. “I think he wants to gallop, Miss Piper.”

Unsure, I led Captain Wentworth in a canter around the ring twice more, but felt his pull, which matched my own. We both wanted to run as fast as we could, as if the years of being tethered had only made us want it more. Feeling as if we’d been meant to do this all along, I led him through the gate and pushed him into a hand gallop as we reached the fields behind Asphodel, hearing Lucy clapping and cheering as we sped by.

We ran until we were both covered in sweat, running until we’d outrun all of our demons and shed the ghosts we’d carried on our backs like a child collects rocks, heavy but without value. We ran until the blood flowed in my veins with the same rhythm of the horse’s galloping hooves, and I could no longer taste the bitterness in my mouth.

Our energy expired at the same time, and I slowed him down to a canter and then a trot, then finally to a slow walk so we could both find our breaths. My knee felt sore, but not with the pain I’d feared.

We heard the clapping and cheering when we were still a good distance away and Captain Wentworth lifted his head in regal acknowledgment as he led us back into the ring. I looked up in surprise when I realized Lucy had been joined by Tucker and Sara, and their cheering was as wild and enthusiastic as Lucy’s.

Tucker met us in the middle of the ring but didn’t wait for me to dismount. Instead he reached up for me and I gratefully slid into his embrace, glad for his arms around me, which seemed to be holding me up. “I can’t believe I just did that.” I pressed my forehead into his chest and began to sob, the tears cleansing me of all the regret and anger I’d collected since the night my parents had died and left me to believe that I was invincible.

I cried harder, remembering the grandmother who’d used her garden to try to teach me that I was wrong, that each year her blooms had to fight different enemies but if she kept the soil rich and firmly packed, and with the right amount of water, her plants would grow stronger each year, better able to withstand the onslaughts of nature. And I remembered, too, that she’d never given up on me.

I cried, too, for a little boy whose only sin was to have been born at the wrong time, and for the women who would have cherished him had he lived.

Tucker held me until my sobs stopped and my shoulders weren’t shaking anymore. I felt his lips in my hair. “You were amazing,” Tucker said, his voice close to my ear.

I pulled back to look in his eyes, and saw that he was smiling. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

And it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to lean down and touch his lips to mine, and just as natural for me to put my arms around his neck and pull him closer. It felt as if we’d found something we hadn’t known was lost, tucked beneath years of grief and regret.

“Get a room.”

We were suddenly reminded that we weren’t alone. We broke apart and saw Sara with her hands covering her eyes and Lucy looking away. Even Captain Wentworth faced the other direction.

“Where did you hear that, young lady?”

I could tell Tucker was trying hard not to laugh and schooled my own face to a serious expression, realizing he was being a parent.

“Cable television,” Lucy said, still avoiding looking at us.

Tucker nodded silently. “I guess I’ll have to talk with Emily about that.”