Chapter Twenty-eight
Liz jumped off her last horse and looked at her watch as her feet hit the sand.
It was well past six, but with all the interruptions she’d had today, she was still riding when she normally would’ve been in her office finishing up.
Her stomach growled in response. Looping the reins over her horse’s neck, she headed back into the stable from the sand ring, the clip of hooves on the shiny paved floor the only sound save the rustling of hay from all the horses that had been brought in for the night.
It was a soothing sound, one she enjoyed sitting and listening to when she needed a moment to think, or not think, as the case dictated.
The arena lights buzzed as they winked on, and as she made her way down the aisle she nodded at one of the clients who had arrived to ride their horse. It would be busy here in no time, full of lesson kids and social boarders.
This was why she usually hid in her office if she was still working.
Trevor was the evening man, running the show and ensuring chaos didn’t descend.
A couple of coaches would drive in on weekends to teach, so thankfully Liz didn’t have to anymore.
She didn’t like the people side of the business, never had.
Give her the horses and the quiet of the stables during the day.
The snorts and rustles, the chirping from the barn swallows in the spring, the call of the crows on foggy early summer mornings.
The ease of simply getting on with your day, no interruptions.
It was why she’d fallen in love with this place the summer she had arrived with her mother. It was solid and peaceful.
But today, none of those things were working the way they should after she’d left the office, and Jake.
She’d checked in with Brady once more. He’d been about to head out and check some of the bean fields.
He’d told her he was fine, but the worry on his face was right there to see.
She hoped he could reconcile this without internalizing too much. This would confuse anyone.
She pulled her horse into a stall, and as she took the bridle off, she stood a moment, watching a dad and daughter across the aisle tack up a school horse for a lesson Trevor was about to teach.
The dad was pretending not to know what anything was, the young girl laughing and correcting him every time.
The dad winked at her, holding up her helmet and asking her where this went on the horse, to peals of laughter and an, “Oh, Dad!” from the girl.
Liz turned, not wanting to be caught staring, and finished untacking her horse, tiredness settling into her arms as she hoisted her saddle off the horse’s back. She needed to go home and collapse, eat something, and not have to deal with the world until tomorrow.
“Earth to Liz?” Trevor said a moment later, and she blinked, startled by his presence in front of her. She was still standing in the door of the stall, the saddle over her arms. She’d zoned out completely.
“Hey!” she replied brightly, stepping out. Trevor took the saddle from her and set it on the rack and peered at her.
“All right?”
“Yeah. Fine. You headed in for your seven o’clock?” she deflected.
He nodded, greeting a boarder as they went past. He turned his eyes back to her. “You aren’t. You’re exhausted.”
“You should know better than to tell a woman she looks tired Trev,” she teased. “But I am,” she admitted right after.
“You know I think all that is horseshit. A spade is a spade in my world. Besides, Liz, you know very well you’d say the same to me.”
“I would. Sorry, been a wild couple of days. You talk to Brady at all?” she replied, changing the subject again.
“I talked to him, yeah. Holy Hannah, you guys have had a time of it.”
That was an understatement.
“You need a day off to recuperate? You should take one, Liz, if you need it,” he added.
She appreciated his concern but shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Need to have the normal of a day on the horses. It helps.”
“That it can,” he agreed. “Especially with today’s news, right?”
“Yeah. I just don’t know what to make of this whole business. Who in the hell would Veronica have hooked up with?” Liz said. “I mean, she and Brett, everyone always said they were close, had a happy marriage. But what people see and what really happens . . .”
“I have some ideas,” Trevor cut in offhandedly, a hint of humor in his voice.
“Oh, you do, do you?” Liz replied, equally amused. This ought to be good, she thought.
“Well, Veronica loved her horses. She’d spend all day out here, from what folks have told me, before she got sick. We all figured Brady got his horse sense from her. But—”
“Oh, spit it out. I need to get finished here,” Liz interrupted, shoving him playfully. Trevor could gab on, which was why he was good with the boarders.
“Well, Keith had auburn hair, too, could fix pretty much anything that broke around here, and wasn’t he always so frickin’ happy you could kill him for it?”
“No. Couldn’t have been,” she said.
“Ah, just a guess. We might never know, really.” With that, Trevor winked at her, a grin as wide as the world on his face, and stepped across the aisle to talk to his seven o’clock lesson, who was now saddled and ready to go, helmet firmly fastened in the right place.
Keith had talked about Veronica all the time after she’d died, remembering stories with surprising clarity.
Liz had always found it sweet and humored him, because he was her boss and she had to.
Thankfully, he never did that around her mom.
But, in the same vein that he was so good with everyone, he and Brett had never seen eye to eye.
Brett kept him around for some reason, despite the heated arguments they’d have. They were barn clearers, sometimes.
Had Brett known?
She pondered that as she put her tack away and gave the horse a quick brush. A memory hit her as she closed the stall door, of Keith, the day he retired, telling Liz to Look after my boys, will you? while patting Baron, Brady’s horse.
She’d assumed he meant Brady and Tanner, but nothing more than the fact that they were close. Brady had looked up to Keith more so than Tanner, and Brady and Keith had both worked hard to bring Baron along.
Baron, Brady’s horse. He’d had to be put down not long after Keith left, and Liz had taken over the stable management when Brady needed time away, his grief overwhelming.
Brett put him to work elsewhere immediately, his brain proving too useful to “waste it on horses,” as Brett had muttered at dinner many nights.
“Holy freaking shit,” she muttered. “How the hell am I gonna bring that up later?”
* * *
Liz’s ancient laptop sounded like a jet engine sitting on the kitchen table, and she clicked back and forth between an email about the upcoming Brightside Rodeo and the article she was reading about new equine vaccinations aimlessly, not really reading either.
Her mind was not where it should be, the mixed-up day sending it places she hadn’t gone in a long, long time.
The little girl and her father across the aisle from earlier kept replaying in her mind, the warmth and devotion the dad had for his daughter, the connection they shared. She’d never had what that dad and daughter shared. A dad who would tease and play but who would show up for her and protect her.
Her father had never taken her to anything other than the liquor store, and left her in the car when he went to the racetrack to gamble. It was a relief when they’d left him and never looked back.
She rarely thought about her father or played the what-if game anymore.
He hadn’t been the kind of man to give her memories to hold on to.
Brett hadn’t been much more of a father to her, either, but then again, she’d never expected him to be.
Too many bad memories meant she’d been hesitant to open herself up to another man as a father figure by the time they’d landed at West Line.
Maybe Jake talking about his own childhood and the thoughts of Brady having to navigate this horrifying news had dredged up the understanding of how much it could hurt, and now she was wallowing in self-pity and memories she’d rather keep buried.
But why was it affecting her so much? She’d long ago made peace with her father being who he was, and how she’d never gotten close to Brett.
It was annoying having it whirling around in her head, analyzing everything, and she wiped at her eyes as an overwhelming need to lay her head down on the table and cry or get up and rage around the house swearing battled inside her.
“Get your shit together,” she hissed at herself, closing the lid of her laptop, the frustration winning. She blinked back the tears forming behind her eyes and decided an early bedtime was the best course of action to ward off more of her navel-gazing. Or maybe something to eat.
As if he’d read her mind, the hinges on her screen door squeaked and Jake stepped through, a foil-covered plate in his hand. As much as she wanted time to herself, the sight of him was a rush of comfort, and she smiled as he spied her through the door.
“I got your text that you were working late. So, room service!” he announced, and she snorted a laugh as he stepped in and flourished the plate in front of her, looking very much like a high-dining waiter as he bent at the waist, the plate perfectly balanced on his fingertips.
“Oh my god, thank you,” she said as he sat on the chair opposite her.
She lifted the foil and breathed in the aromas of Caesar salad, roasted pork loin, and a perfectly square piece of cornbread.
Her stomach rumbled. Dinner, up until this moment, had been a handful of jelly beans and a glass of milk, with the idea of cooking anything too much of an effort, despite how hungry she’d been.