All the King's Horses (37 page)

“And, regardless of what you and I decide to do,” she said, “I’m selling the farm.”

I stared at her. “You’re selling it?”

“I need to let it go. My sister is getting burned out too, so she’s looking at some other options. Between the two of us, we just think it’s time.” Amy looked at me. “But with the market being what it is, it could take a while. I’m not even sure when we’ll actually list it. That could be a few months. Maybe a year.”

“What would be the deciding factor?” I played with a stray lock of her hair. “Between a few months and a year?”

“I have contracts with some of my clients,” she said. “Ninety days on a few. Longer and shorter on others. Ninety days of actual work, of course, so that can wind up spread out over a few months, depending on the horse and my workload.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know how that goes. Where will you go after it sells?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how long it takes. And it depends…” Trailing off, she met my eyes. “Anyway, where we go from here, it’s your call. If you don’t want to—”

I cut her off with a kiss. “Of course I do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “And maybe now I won’t need to worry quite so much about selling Blue.”

Amy’s eyebrows flicked up. “I’ll still be gone most of the time, though. I won’t be able to work with him as much he needs.”

I shrugged with one shoulder and touched her face again. “Well, I can work with him.”

“Do you have time for that?”

“I will now that I’m not in such a hurry to turn him around and sell him.”

Amy furrowed her brow. “If you’re not…” Then her eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Do you
want
to sell him?” I smiled. “Or do you want me to keep him here?” I smoothed her hair. “For you?”

“Are you…serious?”

“If you want him,” I whispered, “he’s yours.”

Her lips parted. “Dustin…”

“I think he misses you, by the way.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t been the same since you left.”
And neither have I
.

Amy smiled. “Maybe I’ll have to go out there later and tell him I’m back.”

I laughed. “Maybe you should. Except that would mean getting out of bed.”

“That’s true. It would.” She wrapped her arms around me. I rolled her onto her back, and we lost ourselves in a deep kiss.

Time would tell how far this went and whether or not we could pull it off together. Time would tell if a few hundred miles and a mountain range were obstacles too big to get over. Time would tell a lot of things. We’d figure out the details and see where time took us.

But tonight, Amy was here.

And nothing else mattered.

Epilogue

Amy

It took almost a year before I could bring myself to visit Sam’s gravesite.

That wasn’t to say I hadn’t tried. Four times, most of them in the last three months, I’d pulled into the parking lot and stared out at the cemetery, trying to persuade myself to get out of the truck and just do it. Twice I even had the engine turned off, the key out of the ignition and my seat belt off.

This time, I was halfway down the winding concrete path, the afternoon sun on my shoulders and a yellow rose in my hand, before doubt stopped me. I looked back. Looked forward. Asked myself if I could do this, told myself I would.

And finally, I convinced my feet to move, and I continued down the path.

I didn’t have a map of the cemetery. Didn’t have a note explaining how to find his grave among the hundreds of others. I’d brought that with me the last few times, and I’d memorized it enough that I didn’t need it now. Past the white archway, I remembered, fifth row on the left, seventh headstone from the end.

The summer air was fragrant from the wet, freshly cut grass and the evergreens that threw long shadows across the cemetery. Thanks to the heat and some recent rainstorms, the humidity was higher than it usually was in Western Washington, sticking to my skin and mingling with the cold sweat that rose on the back of my neck as I neared my husband’s grave.

It was the recent rain that had finally driven me to make this long-overdue trip. For the last year, every storm—from the first smell of rain to the hammering of drops on a roof—had threatened to send me out of my mind, and after the one we’d had the other night, I decided the only way to exorcise the ghosts that haunted me was to face them.

And I owed Sam this much. The man who’d drunk himself violent too many times could rot in hell for all I cared, but the man who, for better or worse, I had loved deserved more than a lonely, unvisited resting place.

I counted the headstones as I passed them, and the chill beneath my skin grew colder as the one belonging to Sam came into view. It was just a simple piece of granite from here, raised a few inches and sharp around the edges, but as I drew nearer, it was impossible not to see the writing. With every step I took, the writing went from vague, shadowy outlines to more distinct words, and when I stopped, my mouth went dry as I read my late husband’s name.

Samuel M. Dover, Jr.

For the longest time, I just stood and stared at the headstone, memorizing every serif on every letter carved in the pale granite.

The date of his death was surreal, not only because it bookended his too-short life, but because I could barely believe it had been over a year. I could barely believe it had
only
been a year. Had it only been that long—had it
already
been that long?—since I broke down, went off the deep end and went looking for a part of myself that had been dead for a long, long time?

And had it really been a year since I first met the man and the horse who had no idea they were exactly what I needed to put myself back together again?

I knelt on the damp grass and laid the rose beside the headstone. Running my fingers across the cool letters, smearing the beaded drops of last night’s rain, I whispered, “I’m sorry it took me so long, Sam.” An ache rose in my throat, and I blinked a few times to keep my vision clear. “I hope you know I still love you, and even though we wouldn’t have made it together, I never wanted this.” I traced the edge of the S in his name. “And wherever you are, I want you to know I forgive you.”

A tear escaped and slid down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. Then, I reached for the grass beside the headstone and carefully lifted a tiny chunk, just enough to expose the rich, dark dirt underneath. I pressed my fingers into the dirt and pushed it apart, burrowing a tiny hole no more than a few inches deep.

Brushing my hands off on my jeans, I sat back on my heels. Without taking my eyes off the headstone, I reached under my collar and drew the weathered leather string out from under my shirt. I pulled it over my head and let it hang off my fingers for a moment, watching my swaying gold ring catch the light of the summer sun. With my other hand, I turned the ring between my fingers, watching the light play on the polished finish. Then I pressed my lips to the cool band.

“I’m so sorry we never got a chance to walk away from each other peacefully, Sam,” I whispered. “We both deserved better.”

With unsteady hands, I carefully wrapped the leather string around the band, and then laid it in the soil at the bottom of the small hole I’d made. Gently, tenderly, I buried the ring and pushed the sod over the top of it.

Then I stood, and for a long moment, just looked at the grass I’d just laid over the freshly packed soil.

“I hope you’ve found peace, Sam,” I whispered into the afternoon breeze. “You deserve it. We both do.”

I gave his headstone one last look, then turned and walked back to the winding concrete path that would take me back to the parking lot. As I walked, I slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans and tried to imagine the funeral that had happened here nearly a year ago. Friends, family, clients, acquaintances, all dressed in black while they mourned Sam and probably wondered where the hell his wife had gone. I wondered how anxious Mariah must have looked, holding back the secret she’d promised to keep to herself, and to this day, I felt guilty for putting so much on her while I crashed and burned on the other side of the mountains. I’d owe her big-time for the rest of my life.

I pushed my thoughts of Sam’s funeral out of my head and focused on the weight that was no longer around my neck or on my shoulders. The chill that had prickled beneath my skin earlier warmed now, letting me feel just how hot the day had gotten.

Better get used to the heat,
I thought and couldn’t help smiling to myself.

For the past year, I’d gradually scaled back my workload. I referred clients to trainers in the area, and my sister took on a few as she prepared to move her training operation to a stable a few miles from Dover Equestrian.

Tomorrow afternoon, I’d sign the paperwork closing the sale of everything—the farm, all the gear except a few pieces of tack I didn’t want to let go of, the house—to an ambitious warmblood breeder coming up from California. Watching her and her partner wander through the barn, both giddy with excitement over all the possibilities that lay ahead now that they’d finally have the facility of their dreams, I’d had no doubt they’d be the ones to buy it, and I was thrilled when they put in the offer. Finally, someone could be happy there.

Not that I’d been unhappy the last year. It wasn’t an easy year, but it was a good one. In between competitions and my rigorous training schedule, I had stolen away to Eastern Washington whenever I could. Dustin had come to see me as often as he could too, and if a competition took me over the mountains and his schedule allowed it, he’d meet me there. It was difficult. It was downright exhausting.

And as the cemetery’s paved path led me to the parking lot where Dustin waited for me, leaning against my truck with his dusty black cowboy hat tipped just right, I had no doubt in my mind that it was all worth it. Especially now that we didn’t have to deal with a mountain range dividing us anymore. We’d stay with my parents tomorrow night, and the morning after, we were on our way to Eastern Washington.

And this time, I wasn’t coming back.

Dustin pushed himself off the truck and met me halfway across the lot. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay.” I took and released a breath. “Pretty good, actually.”

“Good.” He hugged me tighter, then kissed my forehead. “Do you want to stay for a while or anything?”

I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the tree-shaded path I’d just followed, then turned back to Dustin. “No. I think I’m ready to go.”

Papers were signed, keys were surrendered, and never in my life had I felt so damned liberated. Dover Equestrian was in the hands of people who’d make it what they’d dreamed of. They’d asked to keep the name of the place, so I’d signed over the business along with the buildings and acreage, and I was probably more thrilled than they were.

Sitting at my parents’ dinner table that night, I was more relaxed than I’d been in recent memory, and it wasn’t just the two celebratory glasses of wine I’d had this evening.

Mariah laid her silverware across her empty plate. “I am so glad all the closing and stuff is over. What a pain.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Could they make things like that any more complicated?”

“Don’t give them any ideas,” Dustin said dryly.

My dad chuckled. “Isn’t that the truth? Damn banks.”

“Well,” Mom said, “I’m just glad to see you girls doing what you love, and hopefully with less stress than it’s been the last few years.”

“Hear, hear,” Mariah and I both said.

From across the table, my sister narrowed her eyes and pointed a menacing finger at me. “You do realize this makes us rivals now, right?”

I made a sweeping gesture with my wineglass before bringing it up to my lips. “Bring it on, lady. I can take it.”

Dustin and Tim snickered. Dena rolled her eyes. Our parents just shook their heads and sighed. Mariah and I kept our poker faces for a few seconds but then erupted into giggles.

After dinner, Mariah and her family had to get going, so we all walked them into the foyer.

She hugged me tight. “It’s been so good having you home. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I closed my eyes and squeezed her back. “You know you can come visit any time you want.”

“Ditto, sweetie.” She let me go and put her fists on her hips, throwing a playful glare at Dustin. “So are the two of you going to get married at some point? Or just keep living in sin for a while?”

I expected Dustin to chuckle, but he looked back and forth from me to my sister. And I may have been imagining it, but I swore his face lost a little color.

“Um, well…” He swallowed hard, and I couldn’t recall him ever looking more like a deer in the headlights.

“Dustin?” I asked. “Something wrong?”

“Uh…” He cleared his throat. “No. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just, I was going to wait, and…” My heart stopped as he reached for his pocket. “But as long as we’re on the subject…”

I put my hands over my mouth. “Dustin…”

He met my eyes, and I couldn’t even break eye contact long enough to see what was in his hand when he freed it from his pocket.