Nacho Figueras Presents (26 page)

A
lejandro kept a constant vigil at the hospital. As Valentina's room filled up with flowers, the array changing every day as friends sent their tributes, it was as if his body wouldn't let his eyes or mind rest. His whole system was on high alert. Even when he left his daughter's bedside and tried to catch a few hours' rest on a cot, his eyes were pinned awake, his mind tortured by replays of what might have been.

He couldn't believe all season he'd been worrying about the team's performance when he should have been thinking about his daughter. Nothing and nobody mattered like she did.

Georgia decided she'd take the train home. She wasn't ready to be back at the farm as fast as a flight would take her. She felt almost crazy with grief at leaving Alejandro, and her shoulders were shuddering with tears as the shuttle bus left Wellington.

Her mind kept replaying those days and nights—the warm sun on her skin, the searching look on Alejandro's face just before he kissed her, the feeling of him pressed up against her as they lay under the infinitely blue sky—over and over. It was torture.

Gradually, she found the motion meditative, and her sobs had receded by the time she left the bus at Miami and boarded the Silver Bullet.

She ate dinner in the dining car, avoiding any attempts at conversation by fellow passengers, and swayed back along the aisle to her cabin for bed.

She slept through, soothed by the homeward motion, and by the time she changed trains in New York City, she felt she'd achieved a new clarity.

Billy had warned her up front. This whole thing with Alejandro had been a lovely fantasy, a big, beautiful, massively flattering diversion from reality, but of course their worlds were poles apart and they'd never had any real future together. She'd been a fool. Good sex didn't equal destiny.

Pulling out of Penn Station on the last stretch of her journey, she had a nice e-mail from Pilar, thanking her for everything and apologizing for being so dreadfully unavailable at the hospital. The key thing was that Valentina was out of danger.
Thank God
, Georgia thought, for Valentina, for Alejandro, and for her own sense of relief.

Heading out past the beautiful, low-slung Tappan Zee Bridge, Georgia felt her spirits lift a tiny bit. It was a relief to see the familiar Hudson River and the majestic scenery. The air was warm, and the sky was blue. It was finally spring in upstate New York.

Slowing in the approach to Rhinecliff, she watched a heron on the water's edge, a flag, a church spire, the clifftops beyond, and through it all, her own reflection, where she was surprised to find herself almost wanting to smile.

Her dad was there to greet her at the station, waiting at the waterside platform. She saw his eyes worriedly scanning the train cars as they slowed to a halt and light up when he found her familiar face.

He wrapped her in an extra scarf as she laughingly protested. “You're not used to these temperatures anymore, and I don't want you getting sick.”

“New car?” Georgia asked as he flipped the trunk on a red Subaru.

“Laurie's,” he said, coloring slightly.

“Laurie?” Georgia asked.

“The lady I was helping with the renovation…Very nice lady, it turns out.”

“Oh.” Georgia smiled. “Okay.”

It was a cozy thing driving with him again, side by side, and rediscovering the feeling of easy repartee. And Georgia hadn't realized she needed any kind of apology, but then her dad coughed and said, “Honey, I was wrong to put all that guilt on you about staying down there. I feel like I've been angry and bitter forever. You're not your mother. I know that. Did you see her down there, by the way?”

Georgia shook her head.

“I was hurt when she left,” he continued, “but more than that, I think I was embarrassed. I'd overreached—so publicly—in marrying her, and when she left us both, the failure…I don't know. It seemed like it just proved what everyone had always said—she was too good for the likes of me.”

“Dad, stop,” Georgia said. “Maybe you were too good for her.”

“Well, I certainly don't know about that. But you're right, I'll stop. It's never helpful to complain.”

“Whatever else happened,” she reassured him, smiling, “if you hadn't married her, you wouldn't have me, right?”

“You're right,” he said, and laughed. “Thank God. You're right. Regrets unnecessary.”

Her dad looked at her worriedly, a world of unasked questions between them. “You okay?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, but then opened them again. “I'm okay,” she said softly. “No regrets.”

“Hell then,” he said, “we're both good to move on.”

Georgia felt a moment's dismay on arriving home, seeing just how much still needed to be done, but it was quickly displaced by gratitude that the animals and the old house had made it through the winter. She would work her way through all of this.

Her dad's friend Laurie was busy in the farmhouse kitchen, a lasagna in the oven, a bottle of red and a crisp green salad waiting, and though she tactfully offered to leave father and daughter to their reunion that first evening, both Georgia and her dad said they were happy to have her there.

A pretty, blond woman in her fifties who had a bit of money but liked to keep busy with her own marketing agency, Laurie was warm and unaffected and won Georgia over with her clear and complete certainty that her dad was the best thing ever.

Georgia insisted on washing up while Laurie and her dad said good night. As she meditatively scrubbed the lasagna pan, she felt a moment of grief for Alejandro strong enough to make her want to lay the dishes aside and weep. But instead of giving in to the tears, she took a ragged breath and shook them off. She was fit, healthy, qualified to help in the field she most enjoyed. And for the first time in her life, her bank balance wasn't actually a worry. She certainly had no business with self-pity.

When she awoke the next morning in her own bed, she was struck by the feeling that Wellington had never happened. After all, here she was, back in her old bedroom, animals needing to be fed. Alone again. She was tempted for a second to pull the quilt over her head and give up.

No, she thought. No one she admired did that. She would rise. Work. And shine.

She'd been lucky to get to go to Wellington and have the professional bar raised. And there were plenty of ways she could raise her game here at home. Saratoga was only an hour away and boasted a racing season to give Wellington a run for its money. Between Saratoga Polo and the international show-jumping scene in the village of Saugerties, she could still do world-class work right here.

With her dad spending more and more of his time with Laurie, she quickly settled into a routine: rising early, thankful to note each new hint of returning green to the landscape, seeing to the animals' immediate needs with the new efficiency she had learned from working the precise routines of Wellington, and then spending the afternoon mapping out the business and lifestyle she wanted to make a reality.

The nights were a bit harder. With not so much to keep her busy, it was difficult to keep things at bay. The memories and loss came back strong and clear. But she learned to stay still in her bed, to breathe slowly, to withstand the way the feelings battered at her, until she could reach the merciful oblivion of sleep.

It was torture for Alejandro. If he'd had insomnia before, it was only worse now. He was able to feel righteous in his fear and anger—to push any thoughts of Georgia away—until Valentina's eyes fluttered open and the first thing she did was beg him to let her keep riding.

Nothing helped now. Not his ponies, not the game, not the team. The world had gone flat and colorless.

And now that his daughter was walking again—taking her first tentative steps—he couldn't help constantly reliving the look on Georgia's face when he'd dismissed her that night at the hospital, the way the light had died in her eyes. Every time he saw Sugar and Dulce, he thought of her, every time he tried to sleep, every time he rode, every time he was alone, every time he closed his eyes.

A couple of weeks after her return home, Georgia received a letter from Lord Henderson with a generous reference and an end-of-season bonus, which meant the barn could be repainted and the fences mended right away. It was a lovely thing, waking to the sound of happy collaborative building, hammering, and tapping that meant things were beginning to be shipshape.

Her dad told her Sam had found an aesthetician to rent the space below his office that might have been Georgia's practice. Georgia might have been happy to leave that there, but at her father's urging, she went by for a visit, to see that there were no bad feelings.

Sam, bless him, was excited for her new business and offered her a loan. Georgia shook her head, knowing that she'd socked away enough in Florida to make it through. But she was pleased that he had that much confidence in her, and even more pleased not to need his help.

When the place was painted and repaired and the potholes in the road filled, Laurie presented her with a set of photographs, which she used to advertise in all the equestrian magazines: “FELLOWES FARM: Short- and Long-Term Boarding with Resident Vet.”

Her tag line was:
Wellington-Level Equestrian Services in the Hudson Valley.

After all the worry about money, suddenly there was plenty. Georgia hired a few locals she knew from town and found herself managing a team with an ease she'd never have anticipated before being part of the Del Campo operation. It was genuinely fun, getting ready for the summer influx of horses who'd need stabling. Maybe, she thought, there was something a bit contagious about prosperity after all.

One afternoon, she got a text from Billy. He and Beau were visiting the city and were getting on the train upstate at that very moment. They were dying to see their Peaches and told her to drop everything so they could spend the afternoon catching up.

Georgia smiled when she saw them getting off the train a couple of hours later. They were as gorgeous as ever, holding hands and looking blissfully in love. After hugging hello, they all ducked into the bar at the Rhinecliff Hotel and ordered a bottle of wine.

“So,” said Billy after they'd each thrown back a couple of glasses of red and Georgia had caught them up on all her business doings, “yes, yes, you're a mini-mogul now, business is booming, your dad's got a nice girlfriend, your ex is probably minutes from marriage to a manicurist, and all is well and good, but”—he put his hand on top of hers and peered searchingly into her face—“how are you?”

Georgia looked at him for a moment, and the smile stretched thin across her face. “I'm fine,” she said with a false note of brightness in her voice.

“No,” said Beau, “he means, how are you,
really
?”

The mask she had been working so hard to keep in place for all these months slid down off her face. “I—” she said. Her breath caught in her throat, and tears welled in her eyes. “I—” She gasped as the tears fell. “I miss him,” she finally managed to choke out. “I miss him horribly,” and she buried her face in Billy's shoulder and shuddered with sobs. “It hurts so much, you guys.”

Billy pulled her into a hug. “Oh, Peaches,” he said, “I'm so, so sorry.”

“Well, of course you miss him,” said Beau, patting her back. “He was like Billy is to me—the love of your goddamned life.”

Georgia raised her head just in time to see Beau exchange a sweet look with Billy.

“I don't think you're helping her much, babe,” Billy said to Beau.

“Well, maybe not. But I'll tell you what, I'd rather have just a little bit of time with you,” said Beau, “than a hundred years with someone else. I mean, at least you had a little bit of time with him, right, Georgia?”

Georgia sniffed, trying to get a hold of herself. “Yes,” she finally said. “Yes, it was worth it.”

Beau raised his glass to her. “Here's to true love, honey. Even just a little bit of it.”

Georgia smiled through her tears and clinked her glass to his.

I
t was a soft and gorgeous dusk in late spring. The wild roses were blooming and their sweet scent drenched the air. The first fireflies were making their appearance, blinking their message of unmistakable longing. New fences enclosed the rolling meadows; beyond those the wooded hills offered an endless variety of green as far as the eye could see. Georgia was just finishing up a training session with a new horse on the lunge line—a horse she was beginning to think she should show or even breed—when the low rumbling of vehicles stopped her in her tracks.

There was a bright red horse trailer coming up the drive in the evening light. Georgia stood, frozen, watching the vehicle make its way slowly toward her.

There she was, Alejandro thought. In her element. Exactly as beautiful as he remembered her. Especially with that look of absolute surprise on her face.

His heart started to pound.

Valentina squeezed his hand, grinning. “Go get her,
Papá
.”

He stopped the truck and watched Georgia for a moment longer as she tethered her horse and walked out to meet them. He opened the truck door and took a deep breath.

“That's quite an entrance,” she said.

Alejandro opened his mouth to speak but found that his voice caught in his throat. It was almost too much, having her in front of him again. What a fucking fool he'd been. He swallowed. “
Hola
,” he finally said.

She didn't smile. “Hello.”

“So this is your home.”

She nodded, her eyes wary.

He looked at her. “Beautiful,” he said.

“It's insanely pretty!” Valentina cried. “No wonder you abandoned us!” She took Melvin the sheepdog's head in her hands, rubbing vigorously behind his ears and sending him to heaven. “Come on, boy, show me the barn!” she cried, and ran happily behind the dog to see the fresh stalls.

Georgia's face softened as she watched Valentina's easy run. “All better?” she said.

“Better than ever,” he said. “Thank God.”

A familiar whinny came from the trailers. Georgia cocked her head questioningly.

“So, I heard you were taking boarders. I thought maybe, if you had room for a few more,” he said. “No obligation…” He unbolted the box. “For your consideration…”

It was Sugar, and Temper, and their foal, Dulce. Sugar gave an excited whinny to see Georgia again. Georgia smiled as she caught the little pony's head in her arms and kissed her nose. She led mare and foal down the ramp and turned them out in the field, where Sugar and Dulce bolted for the far side and stood back and attentively watched Alejandro and Georgia as if they were expecting some spectacle. Temper came to the foot of the ramp and stood stubbornly at their side.

Alejandro was painfully conscious of Georgia beside him. He wanted to touch her so badly, but hardly daring to hope she'd reciprocate, he stroked Temper instead. The evening shift of stable hands looked at the pair in frank curiosity. Alejandro found it excruciating, the scrutiny, when all he wanted was to talk to Georgia.

“Ride with me?” he said roughly.

She hesitated, but seeing Valentina chatting happily with one of Georgia's grooms, a girl about her age, she gave a little nod.

He mounted Temper and reached a hand for her. Georgia gave herself a leg up from the fence.

“Surprisingly comfortable,” she said, slotting close behind him on the stallion's bare back.

“When you are on a great horse, you have the best seat you'll ever have.”

“Churchill?” She laughed.

“Churchill,” he confirmed.

She pointed out where to take the mossy trail to the top field and they climbed in silence awhile, shy to be alone, feeling each other's heat, Temper strong and steady beneath them. “So,” she said, once she could trust her voice to stay steady, “how are you?”

He paused. “I can't sleep,” he said hoarsely.

“You can't…”

“Sleep,” he said. “I haven't for months. Not really. Not since you left.”

“Oh,” she said, and a blush spread over her face. It was all she could do not to rest her hot cheek against the broad span of his back.

“I was so wrong,
mi cielo
,” he said huskily. “I was so wrong to hurt you. I was so wrong to drive you away.”

“You were scared,” she said softly.

He reached back to take her hand in his. “I was blind,” he said. “I was a fool. And I am so, so sorry.”

She looked up at the sky, where Venus had risen beside a delicate crescent moon. “It's all right,” she said and gave a little shrug. “Doesn't matter.”

But she didn't take her hand away.

When they reached the top field, he brought Temper to a halt and helped her down, feeling the relief that finally they were alone and in private again. “No,” he said, “it's not past. I still need you. I still love you. Every time I close my eyes, you're the only thing I see.”

She was still for a moment, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. Then she slowly stepped closer to him, turned her face up to his, and finally met his gaze. He exhaled. He realized it felt as if he'd been holding his breath, his hands clenched, for months now.

His fingers trembled as he touched her cheek, stroked his thumb along her jaw, but instead of kissing her, he pressed her against his chest.

“I thought I'd lost you for good,” he said. “And I don't know how to live without you.”

She started to cry and pulled back to see him. “Would you mind kissing me now, please?” She smiled through her streaming tears.

He bent to kiss her, tasting the bitterness of saltwater on her lips, then the sweetness underneath. He kissed her, and it was as if the blood had rushed back into his veins and the color had blossomed back into his world. He kissed her and felt his life returning to him. She sighed, and he caught her in his arms as she melted against him, and there, on that warm, sweet spring night, they found each other again.