A Love Like Ours (22 page)

“What year was that? 1982?”

Cheeky! “Some old-school ideas still have merit,” Lyndie insisted. “He’d apply bran and cooked flaxseed mash to the sole and wrap it around the hoof with vet-wrap to draw out soreness. I saw it work a few times.”

Jake gave instructions to Mist Flower’s rider and the two set off.

Lyndie earnestly wished that she had the power to heal wounded horses, wounded minds, and wounded bodies. She’d repair both Mollie and Jake in a snap. While she was at it, she’d fix Mist Flower, too.

Lyndie stared at the distant line where the track’s buildings met the sky, ideas cascading into her mind. What if she gave the blond fairy in her fairy story a magical healing . . . ring? Necklace? No, wand. With every sweep of her wand, the fairy would be able to fix what was broken.

The healing fairy could set out on a mission to fix the gloomy prince. To make things spicy, she’d need to overcome an obstacle or two along the way. Her wand could crack? Yes, and the fairy would have to find a way to repair the wand in order to repair the prince—

“You’re a million miles away in your head, aren’t you?” Jake asked. The humor in his eyes tempted her to believe that he really had come to like her, despite himself and despite her quirks.

“Yes,” she confessed, “I was at least a million miles away.”

“Dreaming about a story idea?”

“Yes.” It seemed he could sense things about her, just like she could about him.

“What kind of a story idea?”

“Two unicorns and two fairies set out together to rescue a tall, dark, and brooding prince.”

He let that sink in for a few moments. “The unicorns and fairies sound nice. The prince guy sounds like a bore.”

Lyndie laughed. “He can be at times.”

“Why don’t they go rescue a lost kitten or something?”

“Because one of the fairies believes that the prince is wonderful underneath his gruff exterior. She’s not interested in kittens. She’s dead-set on the prince.”

“Is rescuing him going to be worth it in the end?”

“Very much so.”

They stared at each other as their words ebbed into silence. Heat and longing grew palpable. Lyndie’s breath turned shallow. Was it possible that he—he might kiss her? Maybe?

He didn’t. He turned back to face the track.

Foolish, errant wish. If he ever kissed her, which was quite a wild hypothetical, he would not do it at the track during working hours with so many witnesses present.

Her physical attraction to Jake had started out as entertaining and charming. Harmless. Like riding a bike down a country lane. But lately, both her physical reactions and her emotions toward him had grown large. They felt serious now and potentially harmful. Like riding that same bike down a steep and narrow mountain path strewn with rocks.

She’d long suspected that Silver Leaf’s improvement would be intertwined with Jake’s improvement. So far, Silver Leaf had accomplished much. Jake, too, had made strides. He was talking with her, after all. He’d seen her mother two times, and both times her mom had talked to him about PTSD. He hadn’t called her lately to try to fire her.

Lyndie was not a person given to worry. Typically, she battled it only when Mollie had to be hospitalized. Recently, though, she’d begun to worry that she might be investing a bit
too
much of her heart in Jake.

She’d see a haunted expression come over his face when he didn’t know she was looking, and she’d want to weep over what the war had done to him. Five minutes later, she’d watch him interact in genius fashion with one of his horses, and pride would pour through her because of what the war had
not
been able to do to him.

She’d gone her whole life without a heavy-duty, serious boyfriend. She’d been fine with that. In fact, it would be better for her to continue along that track than let herself fall wildly in love with Jake Porter. First, her mom had told her outright that Jake could not be cured. Second, his reclusive personality might make disastrous boyfriend material. Third, as far as she knew he hadn’t dated anyone in years. He might not date or marry anyone, ever.

It would be best for her if she could hold the remainder of herself back.

What, then, did she want from Jake, exactly?

She adjusted her position, resting a forearm on the top of the rail.

She wanted Jake’s trust. She dearly wanted him to let her into his world so that she could see the landscape there. Whatever the landscape, she thought she could accept it. It would be difficult for her to live with the fact that she couldn’t change it. But she really did think she could accept it, and
him
. Just how he was. God had been teaching her during her lifetime with Mollie to trust Him with the things she couldn’t alter or control. She’d had practice.

“Thinking about the unicorns again?” The tone of his low-pitched voice sent a delicious shiver between her shoulder blades.

“Actually, I was thinking about the prince.”

When Jake’s alarm clock sounded the morning of Silver Leaf’s race, it did not wake him. He was already wide awake, lying on his back, frowning upward at his dark ceiling.

He fisted a hand and used it to punch off the alarm clock’s noise. Then he groaned and brought his wrist up to cover his eyes.

How had he gotten to this place? How had he reached a day on his calendar when he’d be putting Lyndie James into a race on his Thoroughbred? Of all people,
Lyndie
. The last person he’d ever want to see injured.

It wasn’t that some other trainer had hired her to ride. It was him. He was the one responsible. If she hurt herself today, he’d be the one to blame—he’d be the one he’d never be able to forgive.

He’d wrestled with insomnia all night, sick with worry. His stomach had churned so that he couldn’t stand to think about eating or drinking. His chest ached with anxiety.

He’d been going over and over each of the decisions he’d made concerning her. They’d all seemed logical at the time. Hiring her. Following her recommendations about Silver Leaf. And yet since his choices had brought him to this point, clearly he’d made at least one bad choice along the way.

The odds were that nothing would happen today. She’d be fine just as she had been over all the years of her career—

No. None of his lousy reassurances to himself made a bit of difference. He’d lived too long to put stock in idiot reassurances.

For the first time in eight years, the events he’d face today filled him with just as much dread as one of his nightmares.

Today was the day Lyndie would race.

T
oday was the day she would race!

For at least this one sweet day,
she
was a jockey. It seemed to Lyndie that even God approved. He’d given her conditions ideal for racing. The track was dry, the temperature mild. The startlingly bright, fat clouds would do nothing to obscure anyone’s visibility.

Excitement and nervousness fluttered within Lyndie like the beating of butterfly wings as she walked with the other jockeys to Lone Star’s saddling paddock. Silver Leaf’s race was the next race up.

Lyndie had her goggles positioned on her helmet, her hair pinned back in a neat bun at the base of her neck, her stick in her hand, her hopes in her throat.

All the jockeys wore white breeches and black riding boots. Beyond that, they varied widely because they’d each dressed in silks representing the owner of the horse they were about to ride. Lyndie wore the pale blue and brown of Whispering Creek Ranch. Her helmet cover and the body of her shirt shone a deep brown. Her sleeves, pale blue. A large white
X
had been sewn across the front and back of her shirt, the tips of the
X
s meeting atop her shoulders.

She was doing this. Time had fallen through its hourglass,
and she was about to run the horse of her heart. She desperately wanted to do well. For Silver Leaf, but for Jake most of all.
Don’t think about it, Lyndie. You won’t do anyone any favors by going
sentimental right now with spectators watching.

As always, a crowd of people jammed the rail overlooking the saddling paddock. Many were bettors, hoping to get a last-minute read on the horses. Some were tourists or those merely interested.

Lone Star housed their saddling paddock in a long building full of three-sided stalls. Each stall’s open side faced outward so that the spectators could watch the proceedings.

The other jockeys branched off, allowing Lyndie her first view of Silver Leaf. Zoe stood at the horse’s head, holding his lead. Jake had taken up a position near the back of the stall. A powerful
zing
went through Lyndie at the sight of him. In his black sweater and black Stetson, he melded into the band of shadow that fell across him. His features appeared pale and rigid.

“Look at you, Miss Jockey!” Zoe grinned and gave Lyndie a swift hug. “I’m excited for you.”

“Thank you.”

For the occasion, the redhead wore a pale blue shirt monogrammed in brown with
WCH
for Whispering Creek Horses. “Did you happen to see any cute tall guys back there in the jockeys’ area?”

“Tall guys?” Lyndie asked. “In the jockeys’ area?”

“I know there aren’t any tall jockeys. But maybe the master of scales? Or a steward? Or . . .”

Someone on stilts? Lyndie wondered. A friendly neighborhood giant? “I didn’t see any tall guys just now, but I’ll keep my eyes open for you.”

“Zoe,” Jake said in a serious tone. He asked her to attend to final preparations, and Zoe went into action.

Lyndie needed a minute to compose herself before facing Jake, so she assessed Silver Leaf. The dapple grey Thoroughbred seemed alert and as unruffled as ever. He regarded Lyndie with his big liquid eyes, then lowered his neck and rested his muzzle on her shoulder.
“What a good boy,” Lyndie murmured. “You really should be the king of a small country, you know. You’d be good at it, and it’s no less than you deserve.” Affectionately, she patted his cheek.

When Silver stepped away to glance at Zoe’s ministrations, Lyndie walked up to Jake.

Tall, Dark, and Brooding looked like a storm cloud. His arms were crossed over his chest, his defensive body language warning her to keep her distance.

“Did you study the racing form?” he asked.

“I did.” She’d spent a great deal of time researching each of the other horses in the race, their style of running, past performances, trainers, jockeys.

“You’re clear on our plan?”

“I’m clear.” They’d already discussed it in detail. They both believed Silver Leaf to be a closer. Lyndie planned to patiently wait in the early going while he settled into his stride, then make a late move with a burst of speed.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Lyndie?”

For goodness’ sake, she was just seconds from saddling up. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Because I’m willing to scratch Silver Leaf from the race.”

Fear dove from Lyndie’s breastbone into her stomach because she could see that he meant every syllable. “Jake, I can’t express to you how much I want to do this. I’m positive that I want to ride. More than that, I’m grateful to you for giving me the chance—”

“No. No gratitude.”

Lyndie set her lips, trying to understand where he was coming from. Did he regret tapping her as Silver’s jockey? Did he wish he’d gone with Elizabeth instead?

He hadn’t said so. He’d asked her if she was sure she wanted to do this. What would make him doubt her assurance? She’d given him no reason.

“Lyndie.” Anguish smoldered in his eyes.

All at once, she understood what he’d really been saying to her.
He
was the one full of doubt about her riding.
He
was the one toying with the idea of changing his mind.

She didn’t understand why he’d feel that way. Would he take her off Silver Leaf now? At the last moment? He couldn’t. He could. But he wouldn’t, surely. Please, God. Distress tried to creep in on her, but she blocked it. She’d need a cool head in order to ride Silver well. “I’m going to say a quick prayer. Okay?”

“No. I . . .”

She tipped her head and closed her eyes. “God, please be with Jake. This is hard on him, and he needs you. I pray that you’ll cover him with your peace. Amen.”

She glanced up and found him staring at her, a line of consternation between his brows. She got the feeling he hadn’t closed his eyes. “Aren’t you going to pray for yourself?” he asked.

“I already prayed for Silver and me earlier. God has it taken care of.”

“Don’t you think you might want to put in another word?”

Finally, she could see in him a glimmer of the Jake she knew. It was going to be okay. He’d let her ride. More eye closing on her part. “God, please watch over and protect Silver Leaf and me. And thank you in advance, because I already believe that you’ll do just that—”

“Jockeys up!” the paddock judge called.

“—Amen.”

“
Lyndie
. It’s not too late—”

“I’m not going to change my mind, Jake.” It took some doing, after the scare he’d just delivered to her, but she managed to wink at him and smile. “You heard the man. Jockeys up.”

Gravely, he bent. She put her boot into his hands, and he effortlessly gave her a leg up into the saddle. They held eye contact for a long moment—the jockey full of faith, the trainer without any.

“He’s ready for this race, Lyndie,” Zoe said from where she stood on the opposite side of Silver. “I think he’s going to do great for you.”

“I agree.”

The horses started forward, led by their grooms. As Silver eased into a walk, Lyndie returned her attention to Jake for a final split second. Transposed in front of the man, she saw in her memory the brown-haired boy he’d been. Kind and careful.

She tugged her attention from him and willed herself not to look back. He’d be all right.

When they reached the track, they met up with Blackberry, who was serving as Silver’s lead pony. Silver greeted the mare with a whinny, then the exercise rider astride Blackberry took over the job of leading Silver. Together, Silver, Blackberry, and their riders entered the post parade toward the starting gate.

Very little time remained before the race’s start. Lyndie purposely set aside the confusing conversation she’d just had with Jake. She set aside, too, her awareness of the friends and family watching from the grandstands.

Lyndie brought down her goggles and focused on giving Silver the warm-up he needed. The other jockeys were doing the same. Just a few dozen yards away, she spotted the red and yellow stripes of Elizabeth Alvarez’s silks. Elizabeth would be riding a solid speed horse in the race.

The two of them had shared a dressing room earlier, just like old times. Elizabeth had reacted with equanimity to Jake’s decision to put Lyndie on Silver Leaf. The world of Thoroughbred horse racing was small. Smart, professional jockeys knew better than to burn bridges with trainers.

The starting gate had been pulled into position by a tractor. The gate crew swarmed around it, leading the horses into their slots one at a time. Silver Leaf went into position with his usual well-bred etiquette.

Once inside the tight enclosure, Lyndie took deep and measured breaths. She ran a final check of her equipment. She brought everything she’d studied about the other Thoroughbreds to the fore of her mind. She visualized how she hoped the race would go down.

The horses filed in. Almost all of them, now. The starter watched
hawkishly, waiting for the right moment to hit the button that would release the magnets holding the doors closed.

She could feel the sturdy pressure of the stirrups against the soles of her boots, her vest beneath her shirt, the nub of the reins against the inside of her hand. Warmth radiated upward from Silver’s flanks. She attuned herself to the suppressed energy of the big stallion.
We can do this, Silver Leaf. We can.

The gates sprang open.

All ten horses lunged forward. Lyndie’s world turned into hectic motion, jostling, mounting speed. Then space opened around her as the front runners rushed forward. Her ears filled with the thunder of hooves and the huff of horses’ breath. Steadily, Silver built his pace.

More horses moved past them, putting them close to the rear of the pack. Lyndie checked her instinct to compel Silver into a faster gear. Instead, she rode him the way she’d been born to ride horses, in perfect synchronization with his movement and spirit. She let him run the way that he wanted to run. In response, Silver stretched his stride, comfortably within his abilities.

Maybe too comfortably. The horses competing for first widened the gap between themselves and Silver. Still, Lyndie waited.

As they entered the stretch turn, Lyndie at last urged Silver forward. Through her body’s cues she invited him to fly.
Go, Silver Leaf! Go!

He responded smoothly, opening into his sprint and unharnessing the same breathtaking power he’d shown in practice. She could feel the depth of the surging energy he’d kept back.

She guided him out of the turn on the outside, passing a handful of horses in a sweep. Impossibly, he increased his speed even more.

A trio of horses rode almost side by side in front of them. When the Thoroughbred nearest the grandstand drifted out slightly, a hole opened, and Lyndie shot Silver through it.

Now it was only a matter of reeling in the two leaders. She could tell by their form that they were tiring. Silver seemed to have noticed their weakness, too. He pursued them fervently. Lyndie
hunched low, moving her hands in rhythm, Silver’s mane slapping against her helmet. She leveraged every ounce of her frame and every drop of her fortitude to drive him onward.

Jake stood in a deserted corner of the clubhouse, watching the race on a mounted TV.

His heart raced with panic as Lyndie came down the final furlong. Silver Leaf overtook the two leaders as if they were standing still. Lyndie darted looks behind her, but Jake could tell that no one in the field had the ability to answer Silver Leaf’s closing speed.

Silver Leaf whipped past the wire. Immediately Lyndie sat up, releasing Silver Leaf from his sprint, letting him know they were done. Gradually, she slowed his pace.

His jockey had ridden perfectly. The horse he’d raised had fulfilled his potential. And he felt like he was about to have a heart attack.

She’s fine
, he told himself. He jerked off his hat and tunneled a hand through his hair.
She’s fine.
Yet his body had never had much interest in listening to his brain. It kept on with its stubborn terror. His muscles were trembling the way they did after a nightmare, and he couldn’t catch a full breath.

The camera showed Lyndie raising a fist into the air, a huge smile on her face.

She’s fine
. Which didn’t change the fact that he’d endangered her life today.

He leaned a shoulder into the concrete wall and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling through the exhaustion and worry that had hollowed him out.

In a couple of minutes, they’d be expecting him in the winner’s circle. The pressure of needing to act a certain way for the benefit of others made everything worse. He didn’t know if he could do it. He was in bad shape. He might not be able to leave this spot, here—leaning against the wall—for hours.