CHAPTER 12 #5
After an hour, we stopped. Emily took the girls home to change into swimsuits before going to swim in the pond, and the stable manager, Andi, with her nose still bandaged from her encounter with Captain Wentworth, appeared to take the ponies back to the barn, leaving just Tucker and me.
I felt awkward being alone with him, remembering my outburst from the previous day as well as Lucy’s pervading silence during the entire lesson.
There was a tension between Lucy and her father that I couldn’t discern, something that went a lot deeper than childish disappointments.
I had no interest in becoming involved; I’d be leaving at the end of the summer and had no business delving into problems that had nothing to do with me.
But then I remembered what Lucy had said when she was on the pony, how she wanted to run, and to run fast. I was lost then, of course.
I had found a kindred spirit, not one I could easily leave behind.
And Tucker, too. He carried his regret like a suitcase, a barrier between him and everyone else, including his daughters.
Regret is as useful as trying to stop a flooding river with your hands.
It’ll keep you busy, but you’ll still drown.
I recalled Lillian’s words, and wondered if she’d ever shared them with Tucker.
His eyes were warm but still guarded as he approached me. “Thank you, Earlene. The girls really respond to you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
He stood close, close enough that I could smell the peculiarly enticing scent of citrus cologne, male sweat and horse. An understanding seemed to hover between us—an understanding of kept secrets mingling with the desire to be set free from them. I looked away, uncomfortable.
Tucker continued. “I can tell you really know horses and riders. And that you must have once been a pretty amazing equestrian.”
I made a great show out of wiping dirt from my hands as I weighed my answer. Finally, I looked up at him, unable to resist parting with a piece of truth. “I was pretty good, I guess.”
His eyes narrowed. “You must not have spent a lot of time on the circuit or I’d recognize your name.”
I swallowed hard, forcing down my pride. “It was just a hobby for me. Never really expected anything to come out of it, so I just did it for fun.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes not giving anything away. Finally, he broke his gaze and turned toward where the girls had gone with Emily. “I’d like you to keep me posted on their progress.”
Surprised, I asked, “Won’t you be here? I’ve worked it out with Emily that their lesson will be every day at ten o’clock. I was hoping that with a regular schedule you might be able to be here.”
He looked down at his dust-covered boots, and shook his head. “No. I think it’s better if I don’t.”
I pictured Lucy’s face and her expression of pure joy when she’d first mounted the horse. A small fissure of anger erupted inside of me. “Because you don’t think they’ll be good enough? Or because their small attempts now aren’t big enough to warrant your attention?”
His jaw ticked as he turned to me, his anger matching my own. “You have no idea . . .” He stopped, shook his head, then looked away toward the house. It didn’t occur to me until later that beyond the house lay the cemetery, and his wife, buried outside the consecrated ground.
Ignoring his cues to stop, I continued. “Sara was so happy and confident with herself as she sat on top of her pony. Surely you saw that. And Lucy—she’s really got it.
The confidence, the seat, the ease in the saddle.
It will take a great trainer to make sure she walks before she runs—but look out world when she’s ready to run.
Didn’t you see that? Don’t you care? Because more than their own abilities, they need somebody who loves them to tell them how wonderful they are.
Without that, nothing they do will seem to matter as much. ”
I realized I was almost crying, and that the words I was saying were words I’d rehearsed for years.
Words I’d always intended to tell my grandfather, whose love for me seemed to be hinged on how well I performed.
It had driven me to succeed, but when I’d failed that final time, I’d found I’d had nothing to fall back on.
And the woman who could have convinced me to get back in the saddle had long since been gone from my life, her role in my success unnoticed and forgotten until it was too late.
His eyes softened as he looked back at me.
“Don’t you think I know that? They’re my children, and I want only the best for them—whatever they decide that’s going to be.
But Susan . . . she made me promise that they wouldn’t ride if for no other reason than that she couldn’t and she saw it as something that would take them away from her. And now that she’s gone . . .”
I swallowed back my anger, remembering the huge loss this man had suffered and felt ashamed. “You must have loved her very much.”
He looked startled as he stared at me for a moment. Then he laughed, a bitter, choking sound that made me take a step back. “No. I never loved her enough. She killed herself because I couldn’t love her enough.” His voice diminished to an almost whisper as he finished speaking.
A stricken look crossed his face as if he was just realizing who he was talking to and that he’d said too much.
He took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.
” He wiped his hands over his face. “I’ve got to get back to work.
Thanks again.” He began to walk away, his long strides covering ground quickly.
He’d made it out of the ring before he turned back around.
“Malily asked me to tell you that she expects you for dinner again tonight. Seven o’clock as usual. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, I can make it,” I said, although I realized it hadn’t been a question.
He nodded and continued his walk back to the stables. I remained where I was, mulling over our conversation, his words haunting me. I never loved her enough.
I limped out of the ring, closing the gate behind me with a solid click before finding my way back to the alley of oaks, their moss-covered limbs and leaves silent in the bright light of day as if in mourning for a woman whose husband hadn’t loved her enough.