The Riding Master (30 page)

Afternoons were spent with Bob. She came to cherish the few hours she spent with him working over fences in the back ring. His steady demeanor and gentle nature comforted her during those first few days. Thankfully, Trent never made an appearance at the stables when she was there, and he gave up calling her cell phone and house. Rayne hoped that it was over, and she could get back to her life. 

Bob was making rapid progress over the fences, and Rayne itched to tell Trent about it. He had encouraged her, schooled her, and offered a lot of advice. There were times when losing the friend who had supported her hurt more than the giving up the man who had made love to her.   

But the nights were the worst for Rayne. After the activities of the day had faded, and her mind was left to wander in the darkness of her bedroom, her thoughts would always stray back to Trent. The way he had held her, kissed her, and made her feel so content. It was when she was inundated by those emotions that the tears would creep over the edges of her eyelids and trickle down her cheeks. And after the tears came the inevitable self-loathing. She was ashamed to admit that despite her best efforts, she had not been able to completely close off the walls of her heart.

***

By Friday morning, Rayne was feeling better. The crying bouts had ended, and her appetite had returned, at least a little. When her gray Highlander drove up to the side entrance of her mother’s mansion, she felt certain she could tell Estelle everything without falling apart.

“You look like shit,” Estelle commented as soon as she climbed into Rayne’s car. “What happened?”

Rayne glimpsed her mother’s bright yellow shirt dress, black, low-heeled pumps, and matching black handbag. She found it amazing that no matter where the woman went, drunk or sober, she always looked her best.  

“Nothing happened, Mother. I’m just…tired.” She squared her shoulders, ready for another altercation, and put the car into gear.

“Something happened. Was it with Trent? I bet it was. You always used to get that same sour face when something was wrong.”

Rayne kept her eyes on the road. “If you must know, Trent and I are done. We were not well-suited.”

Estelle’s pale, powdered face fell. “You’re kidding? You expect me to buy that bullshit? He was crazy about you.” She tossed a hand in the air. “You see, Raynie, there you go. You chased off another one, didn’t you? What was it? Did he get too close? Want more than you were willing to give? Which I’m sure wasn’t much, knowing you.”

“Christ, Mother! Why are you always attacking me? And what makes you think it was me? Maybe the guy was a pervert, maybe he was seeing other women on the side, and maybe I just didn’t like him. Did you ever figure on that?”

Estelle’s cold snicker made Rayne’s blood turn to ice. “You never were a very good liar, Raynie. I can see it in your face. So what happened?”

Perturbed that the woman who was as motherly as boiled cabbage knew her so well, Rayne shifted in her seat as her hands clenched the steering wheel. “I went to Trent’s house last week and found his former lover naked in his living room.”

Estelle sat back as her big blue eyes scoured her daughter’s profile. “And where was Trent?”

Rayne kept her attention on the street ahead. “Coming out of his office, fully clothed. He claims nothing happened and that she just showed up wanting him back, but I’m not completely convinced.”

“I’m sure he was telling you the truth.”

Rayne gawked at her mother. “How can you say that? You weren’t there. You didn’t see them together.”

“I saw how he looked at you. He would never jeopardize what he had with you to jump into bed with another woman. Trent wants someone strong, capable, sophisticated, and who can make him proud…he wants a woman like you.” 

“Me?” Rayne balked. “What makes you think he ever wanted me?”

“Because he’s a lot like your father. Men like your father and Trent are never interested in playing games. They speak their minds, tell you what is in their hearts, and once committed, never sleep around.” She patted the black handbag in her lap. “I knew the day I met your father what kind of man he was. That’s why I married him, because I wanted an honest husband, not a rich one.”

“Then why were you so unhappy with Dad? If he was what you wanted, why did you make his life hell?”

“I never made his life hell. I was happy with him, in the beginning.” Estelle’s pink-painted mouth slanted downward. “After being courted by so many men, I never thought I would miss the attention when I married. But I did. My father made me believe I was only good for marriage. He wanted to use me to tie his business to some prestigious family, and when I married a nobody from El Paso, he never forgave me.”

“Grandpa John was a spiteful, selfish man who resented everyone,” Rayne vented.

“Yes, he was,” Estelle agreed with a nod of her head. “But he was still my father.”

“But you lived your life on your terms, Mother. You married for love.”

Estelle smiled. It was a warm, emotional gesture, the likes of which Rayne had never seen on her mother’s face. All her life, she remembered scowls, frowns, and looks of complete disgust, but she could never remember such a smile.

“Do you know the real reason why I married your father?” Estelle asked with a hint of melancholy in her voice. “When he looked at me he saw me…not the pretty socialite, the wealthy meatpacker’s daughter, or the party girl. He saw Estelle, the real one on the inside. I knew I’d better marry a man who loved me, because no matter what happened he would always be able to put up with my crap. And your father did. Until the day he died, he put up with my drinking, my tantrums, my shopping binges, and my outbursts.”

Despite all of her mother’s embarrassing moments, and the pain they had brought her family, Rayne recalled how her father would always smile, kiss her mother’s cheek, and take everything in stride. Up until that moment, she had believed it was just his nature and never his love for his wife shining through.

“When I look at Trent, I see the same thing I saw in your father,” Estelle went on. “He sees you, Raynie. Foster saw the pretty woman who could bolster his ego and his business, but he never knew you. That inquisitive, driven girl who always had to show the world that she was worth the effort.” Estelle let go a long sigh as she turned to her window. “But that’s probably my fault. Maybe if I had praised you more, and gone to those horse shows of yours, you would never have fought so hard to be noticed.”

Rayne gulped back the lump forming in her throat. “Well, you made me tough. You taught me I needed to fight to get ahead in life. That helped me to win state championships. It made me competitive.”

“But it has also made you stubborn, and that has kept you from Trent.”

“Trent and I are over. It’s for the best, Mother.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Raynie. I know better.
"

Rayne did not bother to argue. There was no point. She never could win an argument with Estelle and was not about to try. Some rocks were never meant to be budged.

***

The despair in Rayne’s heart skyrocketed when she read the blood work results Dr. Emerit handed to her. Sitting in the chair across from his walnut desk with framed pictures of his wife and two sons scattered about, Rayne shook her head. The findings were worse than she had feared.

“Mother, you have to stop drinking right this minute.”

“I’m afraid Rayne is right, Estelle,” the chubby figure of Dr. Charles Emerit concurred from his chair behind the desk. He pushed the thick black glasses back on his pasty, round face. “If you don’t stop, you’ll be deathly ill in less than a year.”

Estelle’s glowered at Dr. Emerit. “Charlie, you’ve been telling me that for years now, and I’m still here.”

Dr. Emerit leaned his arms on his desk and pensively studied Estelle. “This is different. Your liver is dying. If you stop drinking now, you’ll buy some time.” He held up his pudgy, short hand. “Only buy some time. The damage is done, and eventually your liver will fail.”

Estelle twisted the strap of the black handbag resting in her lap. “Then I’ll get another one. They do liver transplants all the time, right?”

“Estelle, you might not be a candidate for that.” Dr. Emerit frowned and sat back in his chair. “Your body may be too weak at that point to take on a new liver, and I know you’re too damn set in your ways to stick to the regime necessary to maintain a new liver. There are pills, frequent medical checks, blood work, and a whole host of issues to consider.” His bloodshot hazel eyes returned to Rayne. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Mother, you just don’t stick a new liver in someone and think that’s it. There are a lot of things that have to be done to keep your body from rejecting the foreign tissue.”

Estelle did not bat an eye. She sat demurely in her chair, smirking at her daughter. “I’m not a complete idiot. I have a computer you know, and have researched this on the Internet.”

“Did you actually read any of it?” Rayne demanded, raising her voice.

“Perhaps it’s best if you two take this information home and talk about it,” Dr. Emerit suggested. “Estelle, you already know what you need to do. I’ve told you a hundred times before, but if you choose to continue drinking, you need to be prepared for the consequences. Liver failure is a slow, painful death.”

Estelle’s mouth dropped open. “Charlie Emerit, that is too much.”

He shook his head and stood from his chair. “Nothing is too much with you, Estelle. I’ve known you since you were in high school with my older sister, and you were just as stubborn then as you are now.” He buttoned up his white coat. “I’ll care for you no matter what you decide, but you have to know the truth.”

Estelle stood up. “Fine. Raynie, let’s go.”

Rayne placed the lab results on Dr. Emerit’s desk. “Thanks, Uncle Charlie.” She smiled for him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“Don’t be nice to him,” Estelle scolded. “He’s an old coot.”

“Takes one to know one, Estelle.” Dr. Emerit came around to Estelle’s side and kissed her cheek. “You should have taken me up on my marriage proposal. Imagine all the health care bills you would have saved on.”

She swatted his arm. “You were fourteen and had a crush on me, Charlie Emerit.”

Dr. Emerit winked at Rayne. “Still do.” He kissed Rayne’s cheek. “Call me if you need me.”

Rayne nodded. “I will.”

Dr. Emerit’s worried eyes veered back to Estelle. “Please think about this. You can’t just ignore this problem like you do everything else in your life, Estelle. This will kill you if you don’t do something now.”

Estelle offered no reply, made no argument against his concerns. She simply patted down the skirt of her yellow shirt dress, attempting to wipe away the imaginary wrinkles. After slinging the strap of her purse over her thin arm, she marched toward the office door. A dull thud rocked the office as the door bashed against the wall after she flung it open.

Rayne sighed and lowered her head.

“Talk to her, Rayne, sooner than later,” Dr. Emerit pleaded after Estelle had exited the room. “You know what those lab results mean. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Rayne gave him a curt nod and trudged toward the door. She did know what those lab results meant, and somehow she suspected her mother did, too. She questioned if Estelle was ready to face death the same way she had faced life, on her terms.

***

In the car on the way back to Highland Park, mother and daughter spoke little to each other. But when Rayne’s SUV parked beneath the portico by the rear entrance, Estelle dropped a bombshell.

“I’m selling the house.”

Rayne was too stunned to respond.

“Don’t look so surprised, Raynie. You’ve been bugging me to sell it for years.”

“When…when did you decide this?” Rayne managed to get out.

Estelle placed her hand on the car door. “After we left Charlie Emerit’s. I figure if I’m dying, it’s time to sell.”

Exasperated, Rayne crashed her head back into her headrest. “You’re not dying. I mean you won’t die, if you give up drinking. If you stop, you could arrest the damage, and your liver might improve. I’ve seen it before in alcoholics.”

“I am not an alcoholic,” Estelle loudly proclaimed.

Rayne shook her head, snickering. “Yes, you are, Mother. You drink too much, you’ve got the bad liver to prove it, and you’ve been in and out of how many rehabs? You’re a drunk. You’ve always been a drunk. When are you going to start admitting it?”

Estelle said nothing, and Rayne was almost as shocked by her lack of words as she had always been by her scathing rebukes. As she slumped in her seat, Rayne swore she could see a crack forming in her mother’s stubborn determination.

“I guess when you hear your daughter say it, it must be true.”

Rayne pretended to view unkempt gardens along the side of the house, quashing the swell of pain in her heart. “You needed to know the truth…isn’t that what you always say to me?”

“Yes, it is.” Trembling, Estelle reached for the door handle. “I’ll let you know when I put the house up.”

“You do that.” Rayne balled her hands into fists, choking off her hankering to soothe her mother’s distress. 

“Thank you for coming to the doctor with me, Raynie.” Estelle stood from the car. “I appreciate it.”