Fox River (41 page)

Tonight, after she tucked Callie in, she went outside to the barn by herself, making her way with the walking stick in front of her. The gravel crunched under her feet, warning her when she strayed from the path. She didn’t take a direct line to the barn, but she got close to the door without incident and felt her way inside. She slipped into boots she kept by the door, fed Feather Foot a sugar cube, then made her way to Sandman. Something brushed against her leg, and she started. A cat yowled, and she realized she’d stepped on a paw or a tail.

“Sorry,” she murmured, sure whichever cat had blocked her path was long gone.

She liked the sounds of a barn at night. The insect nocturne just beyond the walls, the stirring of large, sleepy equine bodies, the crunch of straw under her feet. There was no music playing here, no one to worry that she was bored.

No one to hear her tears falling.

She wasn’t sure why she was crying. Because her marriage had ended. Because her sight had not returned. Because once she’d had dreams of a life filled with love and the deep satisfaction that comes from sharing the smallest things.

She found Sandman’s stall and slipped inside. He was lethargic, sleeping perhaps, and he didn’t seem to mind when she stroked his muzzle. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there sobbing before she heard a voice.

“Julia?”

She wasn’t sure where the voice came from, or even, for a moment, whose it was. Then she realized Christian was somewhere in the barn. The lights were probably off, and she suspected he couldn’t see her.

“I’m here with Sandman.” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

He was closer when he spoke again. “I don’t know.”

“Well, who would know better than you?”

“You’re crying.”

“No, I’m not.” She wiped her cheeks with her fingertips, until she found a tissue in her pocket.

“You always did that. We’d go to a sad movie, and you’d refuse to admit you were crying. Then you’d wipe your cheeks with this look on your face that said you were surprised to find it was raining.”

“You haven’t forgotten a lot, have you?”

“I had a lot of time to remember.”

That made her want to cry even more.

“Can I come in?” he said.

“I don’t know. Is there room for all of us?”

“As stalls go, it’s the Hilton.” He joined her. She could feel him beside her. Their coats touched, but they didn’t.

“Nice enough horse,” he said.

“He’s gentle. A good horse for a blind woman.”

“You’ve been riding? Besides that one day, I mean?”

“The day you met your daughter for the first time?” She cleared her throat again. “Uh-huh. When I have help.”

“You probably turned into quite a rider over the years.”

“You should know. You made it happen.”

“
You
made it happen. I just stood by and gave a few pointers.”

“You practically had to hold me on the horse, Christian.”

“You were a natural.”

“Natural coward. But maybe I knew something back then. I wouldn’t be blind if I hadn’t learned to ride, would I?”

“Even so, you still miss it. I know how it feels. I’d wake up at Ludwell sometimes—” He didn’t go on.

“Please, tell me.”

She felt him shrug. “I would dream I was riding again. I’d wake up and find out I wasn’t.”

He didn’t have to tell her how that felt. Her voice was soft. “After you went away, I dreamed we were making love. I always woke up.”

He sounded as if he’d turned away. “When you were awake, did you ever think about me?”

“I was married to somebody else. When the sun was out, I was loyal to him. Funny how we can split ourselves up. I worked so hard to forget you, but at night you were right there again. And when I woke up after dreaming about you, I didn’t feel disloyal to Bard, because the darkness belonged to you. I’d wonder how you were, or if you still thought of me with anything except anger. I’d remember…the good times.”

“You’ve left him. He told me.”

She was surprised, but she didn’t want to know how that had come about. “I should have left him years ago, or tried harder to make our marriage count for something. But I just drifted along. I thought staying married was better for Callie, but it wasn’t. She’s a little girl, but she already feels responsible for the problems she senses.”

She faced him, reaching out to find him and be sure. Beside her, Sandman shifted his weight. “Christian, I didn’t leave Bard because you’re out of prison. I don’t want you to think I did. I left him because it was past time to go, and I’ve finally found the courage.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because I don’t want you to think I’m flinging open a door and trying to drag you through it. I don’t want you to feel responsible for the breakup of my marriage.”

“Let me take you for a ride. On Night Ranger.”

“What?”

“On Night Ranger. I rode over here. He’ll carry us both. He has before.”

She was confused and only too aware he had sideswiped what she tried to tell him. “Now?”

“Right this minute. You want to ride. I have the horse for it.”

“Did you hear what I’m saying?”

“I got the gist, Julia. Do you want to ride or not?”

She was hurt, then she was angry. “No, I don’t. This is what you did to me before. You shut yourself off. You thought I’d betrayed you on the witness stand, and you went off to prison without letting me explain. You left me with a hole in my life as big as the one they threw you in!”

“And now you have another.”

“I’m not asking you to fill it!”

“No, you’re just telling me that leaving Bard has nothing to do with me. I guess you think I might feel guilty, and you sure don’t want that to happen. Well, here’s the truth, since you seem to need it all spelled out. I don’t care why you left the bastard. I don’t care if you had a vision, or your doctor convinced you he was hazardous to your health, or you simply wised up and realized he’s the worst kind of bad news.”

She was stunned into silence, but only for a moment. “Then why are you here? If you don’t care about me, why did you want me to ride with you?”

“I’m not a saint, damn it. Don’t you get it? I’m telling you I’m not one bit noble. I can’t make myself care
why
you left him. I just care that you
did.
”

She felt as if she were floating, as if the weight of nine years had begun to lift. She reached out to touch his cheek. He took her hand and guided it there, holding it in place.

“We’re a long way from talking about anything except the past and present,” she said as she let her fingertips glide slowly up to his cheekbone.

“Agreed.”

“But right now, in the immediate future I see a man and a woman and a horse. Do you?”

“The woman behind the man, her arms around him?”

“There’s nothing I’d like better.”

“I’ll warn you. I don’t know where we’re going.”

She wondered if he was talking about the ride or their lives. “Will you tell Maisy we’re riding?”

“I already did.”

“Let’s fly, Christian.”

He took her hand, not lightly, but the way he once had when they’d been lovers. He steered her carefully from the barn, warning her when they changed direction or skirted obstacles. Outside, he boosted her to Night Ranger’s back; then, with one athletic heave, he settled himself in the saddle in front of her.

The saddle wasn’t really large enough for two, but that didn’t matter. She could feel Night Ranger moving restlessly beneath her and Christian’s warm, strong body supporting her weight. His feet were in the stirrups, but hers dangled freely. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his back.

He reached around and rested his palms along her thighs. “You weigh less than a hummingbird.”

“Night Ranger probably doesn’t think so.”

“He’s happy to have you here.”

She leaned more fully against him. “Is he?”

“Yeah.” Christian straightened and gathered the reins in his hands, nudging the horse forward. The horse began to rock beneath her as he started through the stableyard. Outside, in open pasture, he picked up speed.

The night was cold, but she was not. She was floating, with the crisp Virginia air sweeping over her and the man she had always loved close against her. If she could have held time in her hand, stopped it at that exact moment so that nothing would ever change, she would have.

As Night Ranger stretched his long legs and began to canter, she thought that she and Christian were reliving their dreams, only this time together.

Christian was riding, and she was making love to him.

Maisy was waiting up when Julia got home.

“Your cheeks are as red as apples,” Maisy said.

“I’m not surprised.” Julia still felt as if she were flying. She and Christian had not exchanged another word until he helped her off Night Ranger and walked her to the door, but her body was singing and her heart was full.

“Come sit by the fire and warm up. I’ll come down later and make sure it’s banked for the night.”

“Read to me, Maisy.”

“Now?”

“Uh-huh. I’m not going to sleep anytime soon.”

“You know, the story can wait. It’s not going anywhere.”

“I want to hear the rest of it.”

“It’s not all written.”

“Read me what you have, then.”

Maisy hesitated. Julia cocked her head. “You’re reluctant. I’m sorry, are you too tired?”

“No, I’ll get the next part.”

“I want to find out what happens to Louisa.”

“She’s gone back to Ian, you know.”

Julia realized the time had come to tell Maisy what she’d done. “
I’m
not going back to Bard. I told him yesterday morning.”

“I suspected.”

“No, you hoped.”

“Julia, I hope for your happiness. I don’t pretend to know exactly how you’ll find it.”

“I’m learning to hold on to the moment. That seems to be the only thing we can really count on.”

“You’re wrong there. We can change our future. Not everything, but maybe more than you’ve realized.”

“I hope Louisa changes hers.”

Maisy took Julia’s hand and squeezed it. “That’s the good thing about stories. We can make them turn out any way we want.”

I
an lay as if dead for five days after we returned. On the sixth he opened his eyes and stared at the same nurse who had helped attend Alice’s delivery. “What in deuces…are you doing here?”

She backed away and let me take her place. I leaned over the bed. “You’ve been in an accident. We weren’t certain you’d wake up.”

He licked his lips as I told the nurse to pour a fresh glass of water. He stared up at me, trying to put the puzzle of his life back together. Dr. Carnes had warned me that with a serious head injury of this type, his memory might be spotty, perhaps nonexistent at first.

I fed Ian water by the teaspoon until the whole glass was gone. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

After that he woke on and off for two days, confused each time, but docile enough. On the third day he struggled to sit up, and we helped him until he was propped against a nest of pillows. I brought him Lettie’s cold tomato soup, which he devoured, then a bowl of rice pudding. He finished that, too.

“There was a storm,” he said at last.

I supposed it was good his memory was returning, although there were certain things I hoped he would never remember. “You were out riding. We think a tree fell and spooked Equator.” I plunged on, as if my next sentences meant nothing. “Alice and I were on our way back to New York. Mama took a turn for the worse, and we were trying to get to her in time to say goodbye.”

He frowned. “Your mother?”

“Yes. She died. George says it was peaceful.”

“How long?”

“Nearly ten days since the storm.”

“Equator?”

“He’s fine.”

“I didn’t know…any horse could throw…me.” He tried to smile, and for just a moment I saw a glimpse of the man I’d married. “Did I break…anything?”

“Your collarbone. Possibly your ankle. Definitely a wrist. You’re wearing two splints and a sling, in case you haven’t noticed. Mostly, though, that hard head of yours took a beating. Things may not make sense for a while. You may have trouble remembering. But don’t worry. Dr. Carnes says eventually most things will come back to you. You just have to be patient.”

He frowned at that, as if one thing that he did remember was his own impatience. “Alice…”

“She’s fine. I can bring her to see you later, if you’d like.”

“Is there…a pony?”

My breath caught. “There is. Patches. He’s over at Sweetwater, so the Carrolton boys can ride him. He needs exercise.”

“Alice…doesn’t mind?”

“No. She’s willing to share.”

He took that at face value and closed his eyes. I wondered how long before he remembered everything and brought Patches back to Fox River.

Ian grew stronger gradually. A week after he regained full consciousness he was able to make his way to the stable under his own power. He made arrangements to have Equator sold at auction the following Friday.

My own fate hung in the balance those first months. Ian’s recovery was so paramount, I couldn’t begin to visualize my future. Although he was often irritable, he was too weak to hit me and too weary to renew Alice’s riding lessons. He refused to talk about his injuries, retreating at times, as if he was still in pain. Patches stayed at Sweetwater, and Ian seemed to forget the pony’s existence. He came to my room regularly and slept in my bed most nights. He helped in the kennel and the stable. The enforced truce was tentative, but welcome.

One day, while I was visiting Sweetwater, now officially the property of the Carrolton family, I mentioned Alice’s fear of horses to Etta. Etta was a large woman, blunt and no-nonsense, but a wonderful mother. I enjoyed her company, although I knew that in any dispute she and Bob would take Ian’s side. Good relations with neighbors are the only insurance country people can count on.

“I’ve had luck teaching children to ride,” Etta said. “Dick was frightened himself. It nearly drove poor Bob to distraction. But now I can’t keep him out of the saddle. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t succeeded so admirably.”

“Etta, could you teach Alice not to be afraid?” This was a solution that hadn’t occurred to me. If Alice got over her fear before Ian attempted to teach her again, then perhaps we might avoid disaster. “I know it’s a lot to ask….”

“Ian doesn’t want to? When he’s well, I mean?”

I hesitated, then told her the truth. I knew she wouldn’t be able to help me in a crisis, but I wanted someone to know what my marriage was like. If the worst ever happened and Ian killed me in a fit of rage, I wanted someone to suspect what he’d done, if only to tell the authorities and perhaps save Alice.

“Lou-i-sa…” She shook her head.

“You can’t tell anyone else. If he discovered I’d discussed this with you, I don’t know what he’d do.”

“Of course I’ll teach Alice. It will be my pleasure.” Clearly she wanted to do what little she could.

Etta’s strength as a teacher was infinite patience. A week passed before Alice would go to the Sweetwater stables willingly. Two passed before she agreed to sit in a saddle again. But Etta saw each small change as a triumph. I was confident now that my daughter could avoid her father’s wrath.

As soon as he was able to ride again, Ian insisted on resuming his duties as Master of Foxhounds. To celebrate, we had the board of governors to Fox River Farm for a Sunday picnic on the lawn. I was worried because he wasn’t yet himself. There were gaps in his memory, and he tired quickly. Whenever he was under even moderate strain, I noticed he reacted by stiffening and staring with a fixed gaze into the distance. At those times he was impossible to converse with, and afterward his temper always flared.

I did everything I could to make life easier so Ian would stay calm. I wondered if throughout history women had bargained for their safety this way with the men who were supposed to love and care for them.

The day of the picnic Ian seemed like the man he had been. He was energetic and attentive, the consummate host. We sat at long tables under Fox River’s ancient oaks. Lettie had corralled a daughter to help her serve, and Seth doled out corn liquor from a neighbor’s still. So far the party was a success.

“Ian, we’ve been worried about you,” one of the wives told him. “It’s so good to see you up and about again. Now I’m completely certain you’ll be ready for the season.”

“And who will you ride at the opening hunt now that Equator’s been sold?” her husband asked. “Will you take Crossfire from the little lady?”

Although the more mature Crossfire and I had come to terms several years before, my horse seemed like a reasonable solution for Ian. He was a big, showy animal, and Ian would look well on him, while still being subdued enough to control until Ian recovered entirely. But Ian grimaced at that possibility. “Crossfire? No chance of that. I have my eye on Bill Jackson’s gray.”

“Shadow Dancer?” Another of the governors looked shocked. “He’s only half-broken, isn’t he? And with those bloodlines, he’ll be hell on the hoof.” He looked around the table. “Excuse me, ladies.”

“What’s this about a new horse?” I asked.

“Barring complications, he’ll be mine by the end of next week. We need a new stallion, and Shadow Dancer is the best horse to stand at Fox River.”

I knew better than to question his good sense. I only hoped that when it came time to ride to hounds, Ian would have a change of heart.

After the others were gone, Ian told me he intended to trade Patches to Bill Jackson as part of the deal. Bill had a small son, and the pony was just right for him. I thanked him, but his next words worried me.

“He wasn’t right for Alice. I can see that now. We’ll wait a bit and buy another pony when she’s ready to ride, something she can keep longer.”

“She may not be ready for quite some time,” I warned. The secret riding lessons were going well, but I was afraid the moment Ian began to put pressure on Alice again, her fear would return.

He stared at me—
through
me, in fact—as if suddenly he was grappling with an invisible enemy. His body went rigid, and sweat beaded his forehead.

“Ian, sit down.” I tugged at him, and with relief, I realized I could lead him to a chair. I fanned him once he was sitting. He was still staring sightlessly, but as a minute passed, he seemed to focus. Finally he looked up.

“Ian, are you all right?”

He made a sudden swipe in my direction, as if I had enraged him. He missed me, but only because I’d been on my guard. I stepped just out of his range. “Please calm down. You’re not feeling well. You—”

“Don’t tell me how I feel!” Unexpectedly, he lunged forward, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me until I cried out. Then he shoved me hard.

As I stumbled backward, he fell into the chair and put his head in his hands. I remained silent—and distant—watching him.

“This has happened before,” he admitted at last. “Did you know?”

He was speaking as if he hadn’t just shaken the life out of me. I tried to breathe, but the words took moments to form. “I’ve been worried. But Dr. Carnes doesn’t seem to think—”

“What does he know!” The volume of his own voice seemed to cause him pain. He winced.

“He’s a doctor.”

“He’s a medicine show quack.”

“He said head injuries can be touchy, and sometimes it takes a long time to recover completely.”

“Yes, and does he know I have headaches so crushing they suck the life out of me? That when they begin, everything goes black? When I’m riding—”

“Ian, this happens on horseback?”

“I told you it’s happened before!”

“But how can you continue to ride? How can you control a difficult horse like Shadow Dancer if you’re in this kind of pain? You have to tell the doctor.”

“You won’t tell anyone, do you hear me? Not Dr. Carnes, certainly none of the governors. They’ll say I’m unfit, and I’ll be removed as master. You’ve never understood. For you, the hunt is simply something to occupy the time. For me, it’s everything.”

His voice was shrill, and he was trembling. Ian healthy was enough of a threat. But this man, under the force of pain he couldn’t discipline, was terrifying. What little self-control he’d practiced before the injury might well disappear forever.

Despite that, I still tried to help. “Why don’t you just rest a while? It’s cool here on the terrace. I’ll bring you something to drink, and when you’re feeling like yourself—”

“This is myself! For God’s sake, can’t you understand? I’m this man with demons in his skull. If Dr. Carnes knew how bad it was, he would lock me away.”

“Of course he wouldn’t.”

He straightened. His eyes narrowed. “And you would stop him? You want me locked away. You’re my worst enemy.”

I’d had enough. “I won’t be shaken again or beaten because you can’t control yourself. If this keeps up and you don’t get help, I’ll leave you.”

He laughed humorlessly. “Just where would you go?”

“Someplace you’ll never find me.”

“I have you watched, Louisa. Don’t you think I know you were leaving me the day of my accident?”

I wondered where I might find sanctuary. My mother was gone. My brother believed I should work out my problems in Virginia. And Annie, after a difficult pregnancy, had given birth to a healthy baby girl, Virginia Louisa, but her own health remained in jeopardy. I couldn’t burden my dearest friend or her parents with my troubles when they had so many of their own. I had no one to turn to for help.

Now it seemed Ian was having me watched. I wondered which servants had this onerous duty. If running away had been a difficult feat, now it would be nearly impossible. And if I tried and wasn’t successful, Ian might kill me in retaliation.

“These headaches will pass,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it. Then you and I will settle our little problems, once and for all.”

“I’m going upstairs,” I said. “Seth will check on you in a little while.” I left as quickly as I could. I knew if I stayed and his strength returned, I might not be allowed to.