CHAPTER 66
Finn
“How’s the arm?” I ask Rupert in the bunkhouse. He’s a great horseman and the third generation of Yosemite Ranch workers.
He shows me the cast in his sling. “The five-year-old-demon caught me with his hoof. We might have to call in the horse whisperer woman some of the ranches are using.”
“Let me take a look at the stallion. If I can’t work with him, I’ll make a few calls.”
I leave the bunkhouse. An ornery stallion is not an urgent problem, but a horseman with a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder is a huge problem for a working ranch with a burgeoning horse business.
With Rupert out of commission, I’ll have to hand off some StellaR Tech work to Declan while I double down on filling in at the stables.
Most of my attention has been on the new filly, but I’ll have to do more than that.
First, I need to show the stallion who’s boss. I can’t let his last memory of a rider be the one he knocked senseless. I head back to the stables and find the stallion in the first stall. No one has dared to brush him, and he whinnies at me when I near.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “You’re not in charge. I know you think you are, but you’re shit out of luck. I’m the boss man here.”
He shakes his head and stomps the ground. He’s a beautiful piece of horseflesh. I wouldn’t mind keeping him at the ranch, but he’s earmarked for a prestigious stable in Virginia. His sale will help launch the ranch’s horse business, and there’s a deadline to get him fit for his new home.
I lead him out of the stall, and he behaves for the most part.
When we get to the training ring, a groom helps me saddle him.
I give the stallion the strong and silent treatment, sending him the message that there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll submit to me, and I’m not concerned at all that his legs are built of iron, and that he’s over a thousand pounds of muscle and power.
With a subtle physical cue, I let him know I’m about to mount him. And then I’m on. I’ve been riding since I was four years old, and I still swing myself on the back of a horse without touching a stirrup. Every time I ride, a happy wave of my childhood memories hits me.
I may be happy, but the stallion is not.
He’s humiliated. His raging testosterone is offended.
I don’t blame him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let up.
His irritation builds into violence, but I meet his violence with a gentle firmness.
This is how I break a horse, by letting him know that no matter what he does, no matter how far he tries to push me, I will always remain constant.
I am the dominant superpower in this relationship. You don’t change me. I change you.
Eventually, I stop. It’s enough for today. It’s enough for the stallion to think about until tomorrow. As I dismount, I catch Emma in the corner of my eye. She’s standing at a wary distance from the ring, and she’s watching me. How long has she been watching me?
I drop down to the ground and rub the stallion’s neck, despite his bullshit protestations. “Not bad, boss,” the groom says and takes the horse’s reins.
“Hose him down. And I think he deserves an apple today.”
“On it, boss.”
I turn toward Emma, who’s still watching me. She’s wearing jeans and a cute blouse the neckline of which has slipped past one of her shoulders. That small patch of exposed skin is driving me wild. It’s just a sweet, innocent strip of skin, not sexual at all, but a promise of so much.
I know Emma now. I know how she looks when I bring her to climax. I know how she looks at me right before, her eyes wide and full of wonder. And I know what she does to me. How she makes me feel, both physically and in my heart.
I’m so glad that I’m going to tell everyone about us. It’s the first step to strengthening and building on our relationship. At the thought, I feel the familiar tinge of guilt about Amy, but it’s not a sharp pain any longer. How can I deny what is between me and the woman standing in front of me?
How can I reject happiness?
I walk toward her, and she produces a weak smile.
Something’s wrong.
“What’s happened? Is Jasmine all right?”
“She’s fine. No worries. That was incredible.”
Emma holds some things very tight to the chest. It’s difficult for her to give me the whole picture. In fact, she refuses to. But the more time she spends with me, the less she can hide what’s going on in her mind.
Something’s upset her.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. That horse. He was huge. The groom was scared. I was scared. But you…”
I shrug. “I’ve been riding my whole life. Believe me, a two-year old stallion is nothing compared to an RPG in your face. Now, that’s scary.”
“What’s an RPG, and why did you have one in your face?”
I lean toward her and lower my voice. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. And I certainly don’t want to kill you.”
I wink at her. This is where she’d usually laugh. But she doesn’t. She stares at her fidgeting hands.
I want to kiss her right here, and maybe I should, but I think I need to get the family together at dinner tonight and tell them, and that has to be after I tell Jasmine.
I’m planning on picking her up from school today and telling her.
Since she’s crazy about Emma, I don’t anticipate anything but excitement, but I’ll take her for ice cream just to smooth over any worries she might have.
“I’d kiss you, but I smell like horse.”
“Do you? I didn’t notice.”
I look at my watch. “I’ve got forty-five minutes before a video meeting with our San Diego team. How about we go for a nice swim before then?”
“Why do I think swim is a metaphor for something else?”
I clutch at my chest. “Straight to the heart! Do you think I want to ravish you?”
“Yes.”
“Smart woman.”
It’s our usual banter, but it’s hollow. We walk in silence the short distance to the house.
“I need to talk with you about something, Finn.”
That sounds ominous, but at least she wants to talk, which is a huge development.
“Of course.”
“I had a conversation with Jasmine’s teacher this morning when I dropped her off.”
Relief washes over me. For some reason, I thought this was going to be heavy news. “Her grades? Talking in class?”
“She hasn’t been turning in her writing assignments.”
“Jasmine’s got summeritis,” I say. “Her head’s in the clouds thinking of some uninterrupted time with her pony. She’s been like this since they shortened summer break, which I still don’t get.”
I open the front door of the house and let Emma go in before me. I’m just about to wrap her in my arms and give her the kiss I’ve been dying to give her for the last ten minutes, when she puts her hand up for me to stop.
“What is it?”
She frowns. Her eyes are troubled.
“Is it the nightmare?”
“No. It’s not about me. It’s about Jasmine. Can we sit down for a minute?”
“Sure.” I take her by the hand and we sit at the bistro table under the tree. I keep her hand in mine, but it feels lifeless somehow. “What’s wrong? Is she angry with you about something? I can’t imagine that—”
“Finn, please just listen. Jasmine told me this morning that she doesn't turn in her assignments because her letters are upside down and backwards, and she doesn’t know how to fix them. She’s afraid she’ll get in trouble. I saw one of her assignments and—”
“That’s normal.” I don’t like where this conversation is going. “She’s young. You don’t have the full context for this because you’ve never raised a child.”
“She’s not that young, Finn. She’s going into fourth grade. I think she may be dyslexic.”
I feel rage building in me, and I try to tamp it down. I can keep my composure around a wild stallion, but nothing can keep me calm when my daughter is attacked.
That’s what’s happening here, right? Emma is attacking Jasmine? Am I overreacting?
“My daughter is a smart cookie. Intelligent and wise for her age. She doesn’t have a reading problem.”
Emma just nods. “There are many dyslexic geniuses, Finn. It isn’t about a lack of intelligence. I’ve read a lot about it, and I’ve helped two foster kids who had it.”
I stare at her.
Emma bites her bottom lip. “All I’m doing is trying to help Jasmine, because I know it can be managed with the right training. She just needs to be diagnosed, and then the school can arrange for a therapeutic approach for her, or you can work with a private therapist.”
“Diagnosed. Therapy.” I laugh, and I don’t like the sound of it, but I can’t stop myself. “Jasmine is a perfectly normal girl, with an emphasis on the perfect. Let’s drop this.”
Her arms hang limply at her sides. “Jasmine needs your help right now. Take her to a specialist. Do whatever you can to ensure she doesn’t experience a childhood filled with shame.”
“She has nothing to be ashamed about.”
“She’s afraid she’s not enough, that she won’t make you proud. Maybe she’s right to worry about how you’ll react.”
I’m stunned. “You’re saying I’m a shitty father?”
“No. You’re the absolute best father I’ve ever encountered.
” Emma’s voice cracks with emotion. “I’m asking you to take off your blinders and accept whoever Jasmine is.
She loves you fiercely, and she admires you.
You are her hero. Your little girl needs to know you’ll move heaven and earth for her. ”
“I already do move heaven and earth. She already knows I accept her for who she is. If Jasmine has dyslexia, wouldn’t I know about it? I’ve been with her every day of her life. I wouldn’t let something like dyslexia slip through the cracks.”
Emma’s face is splotchy, and her eyes are filled with tears. “It’s an easy thing to miss, Finn. Please go talk to Principal Greeley.”
“But you caught it, right? You found an abnormality in my child?”
“Dyslexia, Finn. It’s just dyslexia. Excuse me. I’ll be spending some time with Phyllis.” She walks past me into the house.