Leap of Faith (19 page)

‘Want me to come with you in case it lets you down?'

‘Thanks, but I'll be fine.' She wasn't fine and wasn't totally sure she wouldn't collapse somewhere along their driveway, but she had to stop being so damned dependent. And at least while she had the pain to concentrate on it took her mind off Prince and Beau, her stupidity and haste in giving up her dream, not to mention how badly she'd let her father down. And how much she missed him. She still felt sure that if he were here none of this would have happened. She wanted to be angry with him for leaving her, but every time she was, guilt consumed her. The best she could do was get her leg better – everything would flow from that.

Jessica set off down the road, being careful that her steps were even and normal. It was slow going and very painful, but no pain, no gain. Hell, she'd been a successful eventer; that took guts, courage, determination and the ability to focus and ride through the fear and, at times, pain.
I can do this
, she told herself. Though halfway down the driveway, she wasn't sure she could. She was sweating from the exertion – and from the shock and queasiness of dealing with a limb that still didn't totally feel part of her.

She wanted to stop and sit down – give up. But she kept going, putting one foot in front of the other. Just to the end and back, that was her goal for the day. Stuff this taking it easy idea; when did that ever get you anywhere?

The dogs had long since given up on her – she was going too slow – and had raced ahead, darting here and there as they followed various scents. If the horses were still here they would have kept her company, following the fence line. She missed them.

Jessica leant on a gate post and looked back to the house. It was miles away. Jesus, she was in agony. She was surprised to find herself starting to cry. She pulled herself together, hoicked her shoulders up, and prepared to put one foot in front of the other again to make her way back. She yearned to throw herself onto the plush couch. That would be her reward. She just had to get there. No, she
would
get there, no matter how long it took.

She was around halfway back when she looked up to see Steve's ute coming towards her. He stopped and wound down the window.

‘Do you want a ride back? That's probably far enough for you on your first day,' he said.

‘Thanks, but I'm fine.' Damned pride!

‘Well, if you're sure?' he said, sounding doubtful. She mustn't have been quick enough to replace the wince on her features with a light, carefree smile. She noted the dogs had taken up Steve's offer and had leapt onto the back. He got out to chain them on securely and she took another grating, painful step forwards as if to prove her point, then raised her hand and put her head down to concentrate on each step on the uneven ground.

‘Okay then,' he called, before getting back in and driving off.

*

Jessica allowed herself to lie back on the bed while no one was around to see just how much the short walk had taken out of her. She was clearly unfit – she'd been huffing and puffing after just a few metres. She was used to pushing herself physically, but the pain had been so bad it had actually taken her breath away with each step. When she put weight on the defective leg it was like a knife being driven through it. When the leg was raised and not bearing weight, the pain changed to an uncomfortable dragging, grating feeling that set her teeth on edge. And now she had a headache starting up. Her leg was supposed to have healed while in plaster, but it didn't feel at all mended. Jesus.

She hoped Steve would be away for hours so she'd be spared having the extra burden and exhaustion of putting on a happy face for him. It was all very trying. Hopefully tomorrow she'd be stronger. But what the hell would she do for the rest of today? At this rate she'd be collapsed on the couch when he came home.

After lunch she'd have another go at a walk. She'd take some ibuprofen to mask the pain. If only she still had some decent painkillers … Jessica's mind strayed to how she could get some before telling herself off. Until recently, the easy way out had never been her gig. Hard work was what everything worthwhile took. No buts about it. The accident had changed her in more ways than she realised.

Jessica lay on the bed doing the exercises she'd been given. It was almost as painful as the weight-bearing walking, but in a different way. At least there was no sharp pain; this just felt weird and icky.

Had Steve said how long he'd be gone, or where he was going, for that matter? She couldn't remember. There was a time not so long ago when she would have enquired and he would have told her, would have asked her if she needed anything or if she wanted to go along. She pushed aside the feeling that they were slipping away from each other. Hadn't they proved last night – and again this morning – how committed to each other they were? No, she was just feeling lousy, generally, and that was affecting how she saw everything.

*

Over the following week Jessica detected no further improvement in her strength or stability. The annoying achy, grating feeling was there when she did exercises and the shooting, searing pain when she bore weight. She continued to force herself to work through it and thought she was probably due an Oscar for the acting job she was doing in front of Steve and Tiffany. Her mantras, if anyone caught her wincing, continued to be ‘All good' and ‘No pain, no gain'.

She ignored the worried glances between her husband and her best friend. She was doing the best she could; there was nothing else she could do. She still desperately hoped to become pregnant and feel useful again, and have her future laid out. It'd be a nice distraction from the emptiness of her days and something to look forward to.

The day her period arrived, Jessica retreated to bed. Steve brought her cups of tea and told her how worried about her he was; that she hadn't been herself since the accident. Jessica thought he probably really meant since the horses were sold, but they were both careful never to mention that particular elephant in the room. Jessica tried to reassure him she was fine; it was just her period and the hormones laying her low. He seemed to reluctantly accept that and left her to her wallowing.

As miserable as she was, it was good to be able to let down her guard and release some bottled-up emotions that were as exhausting as dragging around her damaged, plastered leg had been.

Steve was being so kind, she felt terrible for not being honest with him. But she didn't want him pitying her, didn't want him trying to fix things, which would probably mean ruining someone else's life by attempting to get the horses back. That was a done deal; she just had to get over it, which was proving more difficult than she ever would have thought. Where was her business brain when she needed it? If her father were here, he would give her a severe talking to – about everything. But he wasn't.

Jessica sank lower again at the thought. But she got up and carried on. She couldn't stay in bed any longer, else she might just never leave. She dismissed once more Steve's suggestion that she see a psychologist – didn't they only ever really just point out what you already knew or ummed and aahed and said, ‘And how do you feel about that?' No, she'd pull herself together sometime, somehow. A new thought struck her and she felt light-headed: If she'd given up eventing sooner to start a family, would she be pregnant now? Had she left it too late? Had her stubbornness cost Steve his chance to be a father?

When Steve announced he was going to the first of a series of clearing sales and asked if she wanted to go along, she was surprised. She never went to clearing sales, mainly because she'd always been busy with the horses and whatever else she used to fill her days doing. She wouldn't actually mind going and seeing different people, having a change of scenery, but clearing sales were Steve's thing; it didn't feel right to cramp his style. She'd listened to years' worth of his stories of all the men standing around catching up and solving the problems of primary production and the world. It wouldn't be fair to disrupt that. Anyway, he was probably only asking out of politeness.

‘Thanks, but I'm going to do the washing,' she said.

‘Okay.'

Definitely out of politeness, she concluded, given his easy acceptance of her answer. No doubt he'd be pleased to escape her for a few hours. She had noticed he spent even more time driving around checking the stock than he used to. He said it was because of the recent shootings; he wanted to be extra vigilant and make sure there were no animals writhing in pain anywhere. But Jessica suspected her gloomy mood – as hard as she tried to appear otherwise – might be rubbing off on him.

Even Laurel and Hardy seemed to have given up on her and rarely ventured inside these days. She'd have liked to have believed it was because of the weather being so much warmer, but she was too far into her self-pity.

Jessica waved Steve off from the verandah and felt her heart sink. She wished she'd decided to go too. This sitting at home day after day, looking out at the empty horse paddocks, was excruciating. A couple of times it had entered her brain to suggest selling up and moving, but she quickly dismissed it. She loved the place, really, didn't she? And, anyway, Steve wouldn't even consider it without a damned good reason.
Just suck it up
,
Princess
, she told herself, and picked up her phone to call Tiffany. She knew she'd neglected her friend of late. She hadn't been feeling sociable and the less time she spent with Tiffany, the less she had to fight to keep from blurting out the truth. Tiffany had been busy with her new job and they'd spent a lot of time missing each other's calls and then catching up on the phone rather than face to face. She was probably at work today too. Jessica couldn't remember what days Tiffany was working; she'd been too wrapped up in herself for too long.

Tiffany had also been busy with dressage training schools. Thankfully Jessica wasn't expected to attend – she'd found the dressage championships too depressing. She'd thought it had been about not wanting to see people she knew, so going to watch Tiff and staying in the vehicle would be okay, but it had turned out that wasn't the only problem. Seeing horses performing full stop was a cruel reminder of her failings.

Now, when they did manage to speak, Tiffany kept mention of horses to a bare minimum, which suited Jessica just fine. She knew she was being selfish and cruel in not showing more interest in her friend and her pursuits, but just couldn't seem to pull herself out of the abyss. She was also worried about her façade cracking under too much scrutiny from Tiffany. Steve was different – men generally tended to be less observant – but she knew even he was seeing through her act, and while he looked at her oddly he didn't attempt to probe too deeply. Tiffany wouldn't be so easy to convince.

Jessica was disappointed to get her friend's voicemail. She left a message and headed out for her walk. Today she aimed to make the highway and back, no matter what. So, with water bottle in hand and teeth gritted, she focussed on carefully putting each foot in front of the other. She took care to place her heel down first, ignore the searing pain and uncomfortable stretching of ligaments and assorted soft tissue and lower the length of her foot, then with weight on the ball, raise herself up onto the toes, then pick the leg up and move it forwards and go through it all over again.

She'd worked hard – and painfully – to strengthen the side-to-side movement and lessen the risk of rolling her ankle on the uneven gravel surface beneath her. But still quite regularly she felt the grip of fear as she stumbled ever so slightly on a stone and held her breath, waiting to see if this was the moment she would end up on the ground, unable to get up.

Jessica knew she was being far too melodramatic and worrying far too much, but the thought of snapping the fragile bone again, or worse, the other ankle, kept her worried to the point of paranoia. Doctor Grant had said it would heal stronger than the undamaged one, but she didn't believe him. He'd been so young and, anyway, he couldn't feel what she could feel.

She'd much rather lock herself away in the house and avoid all risk, but a stronger part of her was a doer. Sitting around just wasn't in her makeup. And the last thing she wanted was to end up with a permanent limp because she hadn't followed the instructions of the experts. She didn't want a lifelong reminder of this accident and to keep having to explain to people why she limped.

Jessica hoped to both outrun her grief and disappointment in herself while healing. And to fill in her days that were now so empty. She often rubbed her stomach as she walked and silently pleaded, to no one in particular,
Please give me a baby to occupy me
. If she were pregnant she could busy herself with preparing a nursery and shopping for the little one. She knew it was silly and dangerous to put so much hope in something largely out of her hands, but it was all she had. She was a little wary, also, of wanting something too much and for the wrong reasons, but she chose to push that aside. She didn't notice a few tears had escaped and were running down her cold face, which held little feeling thanks to the brisk morning air. She paused, knelt down on the soft grassy verge and allowed herself the indulgence of a flood of tears of self-pity while no one was around to see.

After a few moments she wiped the tears away with her sleeve, took a deep breath, stood back up and carried on. Enough was enough. How she felt was her own doing and no one else's. She turned out from the driveway and onto the main road.

Horses in nearby paddocks looked up from the grazing and stared at her for a few moments before resuming. They were used to seeing her out walking and no longer trotted over to the fence for a pat. The few times she had gone over to the fence she'd spent the rest of her walk going over past dressage tests and show jumping and cross-country rounds in her mind, which would come back to her in her dreams that night. She missed the thrill, the pride of achievement, especially on a horse she and her father had bred or stumbled across for sale, cheap. It had been their thing. It was over now.