The Riding Master (17 page)

“I tripped on those stupid slippers you bought for me last Christmas.” Estelle played with the bandage on her forehead. “I told you they were too big!”

“Estelle, please,” Foster begged, gesturing for her to lower her voice. “You don’t have to shout.”

Rayne pleadingly cast her eyes to her ex-husband. “What really happened?”

Foster grudgingly shrugged. “Do you need to ask?”

Rayne sighed and shifted her gaze to her mother. “How much did you have to drink, Mother?”

“Oh, so you think I did this because I was drunk,” Estelle’s aggravating, raspy voice echoed about the exam room. “It was those damned slippers, I told you.”

“I need to go.” Foster took Rayne’s elbow. “Walk me out,” he whispered.

“Mother, I’m going to have a word with Foster.”

“You two are going to talk about me behind my back. I get it.” Spotting Trent close to the room door, Estelle paused and then stared at him. “Who’s he?”

Rayne gave Trent a beseeching glance.

“Trent Newbury.” Trent smiled radiantly as he neared the hospital bed. “I ride horses with Rayne at Southland Stables.”

Estelle regarded him with a speck of skepticism in her blue eyes. “Are you gay?”

Rayne spun around. “Mother!”

“What?” Estelle shrugged her thin shoulders. “Aren’t all men who ride horses gay? You told me so, Raynie.”

“Well, I’m not gay,” Trent assured her, his smile still intact.

Estelle did not appear convinced. “What are you doing with my daughter?”

Foster turned Rayne toward the door. “Let’s leave them.”

“What happened?” she questioned as soon as they were in the ER hallway.

Foster’s eyes glided over Rayne’s snug jeans, white T-shirt, and damp hair. “It was a little after three in the morning when she phoned the house, frantic because she was bleeding all over the place and didn’t remember falling. By the time I got to her, she was still pretty drunk, and I knew she was going to need to be seen by someone.”

Rayne gripped the white railing along the hallway wall, choking back her shame. “Thank you for bringing her here. I’m just sorry you had to deal with her.”

“Your mother always did drive me nuts, Rayne, but I knew if she was calling me, it had to be pretty bad.” He pointed to the exam room door. “Were you with him last night?”

A swift kick of suspicion hit Rayne’s gut. “Does that matter?”

He shook his head, appearing frustrated. “I know things didn’t end on a high note with us, but don’t shut me out completely. I’m still here for you.”

Rayne forced a half-smile across her lips, wanting to appease him. She had no desire to remain cordial, but she did need him to continue paying for Bob and his upkeep.

“I appreciate that, Foster.”

He glanced about the bustling ER hallway. “Look, the ER doctor wants to keep her, but I told him she won’t stay. There’s something wrong with her blood work. I didn’t get the whole story, but they wanted to wait to talk to you.”

Rayne rested her shoulder on the wall. “It’s probably the drinking catching up with her. The last time she was in rehab they told her to quit or she would start having problems.”

“Yeah, I remember. It was right around our eighth anniversary.”

She browsed his stern blue eyes, wondering what she had found so damned attractive about the man all those years ago. Sure he was good-looking, with his strong, angular features and well-toned body, but now his looks seemed so generic, like all the other polished and presentable businessmen she had encountered over the years. There was nothing alluring about him anymore. His stoic features held none of the fascination that had captivated her when they first met.

“You doing okay, Rayne?”

She defensively folded her arms over her chest, not wanting to buy into his concern. She knew better. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You need any money? You know I always told you if you needed anything to come to me. I’ll take care of you.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m doing all right.”

“How’s Bob?”

This time her smile was genuine, happy that he had at least remembered her horse’s name. “Trent is the new riding master at the stables, and he wants me to get him ready for a show in another month. Looks like I’m going to start showing sooner than I expected.”

His eyes grew a little colder. “Is Trent good to you? Does he take care of you? You need to be taken care of, Rayne. You know you were never any good at being on your own.”

She fidgeted slightly, tucking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The condescending tone of his voice was more than she could bear. Rayne could not remember a time when he did not speak to her in such a manner. “I’ve been on my own for a year, Foster. And Trent is…a good friend, that’s all.” She curled her hands into fists inside the pockets of her jeans. “How’s Connie?” she posed, eager to change the subject.

He rolled his eyes. “She wants to redecorate the entire house.”

Rayne gently laughed. “You hate redecorating.”

“Yeah, I know. But everything I think of as comfortable, she calls old-fashioned.” He searched the hallway, his lips drawn together in a contemplative frown. “I think the problem is I may be a little too old-fashioned for Connie.”

“I thought you two were happy,” she offered, not sure what else to say.

“So did I, for a while.” His eyes returned to her. “Nowadays I find myself missing how comfortable we were together. You always understood me.”

Rayne pushed away from the wall and held up her head, knowing what Foster was doing. An expert at manipulation, he had for years made her believe that she was the only one for him. But experience had taught her to distrust his words and actions. “I’m beginning to think I never understood you at all,” she admitted, and turned toward the door.  

“I’m still the same man you knew. Nothing has changed.”

She put her hand on the silver door handle of her mother’s exam room and thought of Trent. “Everything has changed, Foster. I’m different. I…I should get back to Mother.”

“You look good, Rayne.”

A pang of past regret raked across her heart. “Good-bye, Foster,” she uttered and rushed in the door. 

Rayne halted just inside the room, pushing down all the unwanted memories of Foster welling up in her mind. This meeting had been easier than the ones before, but still difficult for her. She debated if it would ever get better.

Trent’s seductive laughter tore her away from her troubles, and recollections of their time together earlier that morning soothed her frazzled nerves.

“Raynie, where did you get this one?” Estelle happily called to her. “I like him.”

Rayne moved toward the bed, curiously noting her mother’s flirtatious smile.

“I was just telling your mother about some of the people at the stables,” Trent explained, winking at her.

“He’s funny.” Estelle’s blue eyes flashed with approval, something Rayne had never seen before. “He’s not too bad on the eyes, either. He’s the one you mentioned on the phone the other night, isn’t he? Are you two sleeping together yet?”

There it was,
Rayne silently admonished. Just when she let her guard down, Estelle found a way to humiliate her. “Mother, please. We’re not sleeping together. We’re friends.”

“You told your mother about me?” The hope was evident in Trent’s voice.

“So you are sleeping with him.” Estelle sat up in the bed, grinning excitedly. “How long has this been going on?”

“That’s none of—” Not wanting to give Estelle any more ammunition, Rayne hastily muttered, “Never mind. Tell me what happened last night.”

Estelle lowered her eyes to the bed sheets and then twisted a small section in her fingers. “I fell, that’s all.”

“After how many drinks, Estelle?” Rayne loudly interrogated.

Trent took a step back from the bed. “I’ll wait outside while you two talk.” He shot Rayne a reproachful look, and then turned for the door.

After he had left the exam room, Rayne stared at her mother’s frail figure in the bed. The dark circles beneath her eyes made the blue inside them stand out, and for a split second Rayne saw Jaime; the adorable little sister that everyone had pampered and treated like a china doll because she was so small and fragile. 

“You embarrassed him, Raynie. You shouldn’t have done that. He seems like a nice guy.”

With no more need for restraint, Rayne’s anger came pouring out of her. “Why on earth did you call Foster, Mother?” She threw her hands up. “Do you know what it’s like to come to the hospital and find my ex here with you?”

“I couldn’t get you, and the only other number I had was his,” Estelle whined. “I knew you two stayed friendly, so I gave him a call.”

“What about 911?” Rayne hollered. 

“I wasn’t serious enough for that,” Estelle balked with a wave of her hand.

“But you felt it was serious enough to call my ex-husband!”

Estelle punched her fist into the bed. “Don’t you dare shout at me.”

“Why not?” Rayne stormed up her mother’s side. “The only time you listen to me is when I shout, Estelle!”

A knock at the door made Rayne wheel around in time to see a very tall man with thinning gray hair and thick glasses entering the room. Wearing a long white coat, blue tie, and gray slacks, he appeared to be the epitome of a doctor, even down to the sunken look of fatigue in his small brown eyes. Lumbering into the room with a friendly smile, he carried a blue binder under his arm.

“Are you Mrs. Masterson’s daughter?”

Rayne stepped forward. “I’m Rayne Greer.”

He extended a thick hand to Rayne. “Dr. Clifton. I’m the ER physician attendin’ to your mother,” he announced in a deep Texas drawl.

“He’s the one who wants to do more tests on me,” Estelle griped from the bed.

“Well, Mrs. Masterson, your liver enzymes are worrisome, along with your blood counts and recent weight loss,” Dr. Clifton defended. “We need to find out what’s goin’ on with you.”

“Weight loss?” Rayne stared at her mother. “What weight loss?”

Dr. Clifton opened his blue binder. “Your mother reported that she’s lost ten pounds over the past few weeks.”

“It’s because I don’t have any money for food,” Estelle bellyached.

“You have money, Mother. You just spend it on scotch.”

Dr. Clifton cleared his throat as he gleaned the paperwork in the binder. “She’s also pretty anemic, her liver functions aren’t too good, and her other blood levels are pretty troublin’.”

“It’s all because of the drinking, right? She drinks too much.”

“So she told me.” Dr. Clifton closed his binder. “I think we should see how extensive the damage is first. I’ve ordered a consult with an internist on the staff here. He can run some more tests and give you a more definitive diagnosis. I think she should make an appointment as soon as possible.”

Estelle sulked in her bed. “I don’t need another doctor. I like Dr. Emerit.”

Rayne’s eyes veered from her pouting mother to the doctor. “That’s her internist. She’s been with him for years. I can call him and schedule an appointment.”

Dr. Clifton’s dark eyes registered with understanding. “If I can have a word with you outside, Ms. Greer.” He walked to the room door and opened it, waiting for Rayne to join him.

Estelle folded her arms and sulked in her bed like a spoiled child. “I’m the patient here. Shouldn’t someone talk to me?”

“Enough, Mother.” Rayne went to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

After Rayne and Dr. Clifton were safely in the hallway, he turned to her, looking grave.  

“Ms. Greer, I don’t need to tell you that the drinkin’ has done extensive damage to her liver. How advanced the cirrhosis is needs to be determined to decide what course of treatment to take, but whether your mother will be compliant with that treatment…well, I’ve got my doubts.”

Rayne saw Trent coming down the hall. “She won’t be compliant. That is pretty much guaranteed.”

Dr. Clifton hugged the binder to his chest. “She can be medicated to avoid any profound problems, but I think you’ve got no other options right now. She needs to get into a rehab program.”

“She’s been in several, Dr. Clifton. None have helped.”

“I understand, Ms. Greer, but please consider it. I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t strongly advise that she get some kind of help for her drinkin’.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rayne avowed. “She might listen to Dr. Emerit. She always listens to him, for a little while anyway.”   

Trent walked up to her, carrying a white paper cup of coffee. “I’m sure you can probably use this.”

Rayne motioned to Dr. Clifton. “Trent, this is Dr. Clifton.”

They two men exchanged nods.

Trent examined Rayne’s somber face. “So what’s the verdict?”

Rayne took the coffee cup from his hand. “Dr. Clifton wants her to get some more tests. I’ll set up an appointment with her internist on Monday and go from there.”

“Is she ready to go home?” Trent asked, moving to Rayne’s side.

“Just let me finish up the paperwork.” Dr. Clifton lowered the binder from his chest, gripping it in one hand. “I’ll have the nurse come in and give you directions for keepin’ her wound clean, and then you can take her on home.”