“The problem here, Olivia, is that you don’t understand the first thing about Rowan or me or what any of this means to my family.”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off his. “Well, I know I have a special connection with Rowan, too. I love him already.” She cut off her next thought. Had she really said that out loud? Did she mean the horse or the man? How deep had she burrowed in here? Rafe was right. She didn’t know him or his family very well, but she wanted to. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to know how far his dreams of racing went, even though it terrified her. Did he like working the farm? Or did he want to escape like Nate and Gabe? What kept him here? Was it loyalty to his father? Love, respect or responsibility to his mother? Or all three?
At this moment Olivia despised her need to always tell the truth. Sometimes, it could be a serious flaw. Her mother had told her once that she had to be careful with the truth. Julia had explained that truth-telling could lead to losing friends. Olivia countered that if her friends didn’t want the truth, then they weren’t her friends. Julia had pointed out the difference between simply stating facts and building a relationship.
No relationship could be built on lies, but often, strategic timing when it came to delivering the truth was the glue that kept the relationship together.
Olivia realized she was absolutely guilty of bad timing.
“You do have a connection with him,” Rafe agreed. “But you’re not part of his life.”
“I’d like to be.”
Rafe’s eyebrow hitched up, and he fixed her with a steely blue gaze. “But something is holding you back. I’ve seen it, Olivia. There’s a wall around you that even Rowan couldn’t get through. I know I can’t. You’ve got your shields up.”
“So do you.”
“I should,” he countered. “You want to hurt me. And my family.”
“I don’t want to hurt anybody. I was just telling you the truth.”
“Fine. So, are you going to tell me the whole truth?”
“I don’t know what—”
He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on her shoulders, leaning in close. “I see your fear when I talk about racing. It’s not there when we’re just talking about Rowan or the other horses. It’s not the animals that frighten you. It’s the racing. Isn’t it?”
The air in Olivia’s lungs burned like an inferno. She felt as if she’d burst into flames on the spot. If only she could. Then she wouldn’t have to tell him the whole truth. If he was so angry, why didn’t he just send her away? He could dismiss her and that would be the end of it. She’d figure out a way to get over these feelings. Surely there was some kind of anti-emotional wrecking ball she could use to tear them all down. She wondered how many years it would take to forget his kisses. To forget him.
She’d told Rafe one truth and it had crushed him. She was amazed he was still talking to her. Why did he want to know her deepest fears? Why did he care? What difference would it make to him?
She had hurt him. Devastated him. The whole truth would drive him away for good. Instead, she wanted to mend the rift she’d already caused. She wanted to see those flashes in his eyes that he seemed to reserve for her alone. She didn’t know how he appeared to shut out the entire world except for her when they were together. She couldn’t do that. In fact, when she was with him she was hypersensitive to everything going on around them. Right now, for example: the cool evening breeze that ruffled his dark hair and the spring grass that had yet to be cut; the setting sun’s golden rays; the buds of the weeping cherry tree beside the kitchen door and the half-moon rising in the east. She heard the sound of Rafe’s breathing, and she saw the shadow in his eyes as he waited for her to answer him.
She had always considered herself a keen observer of nature and her surroundings, but the truth was she saw more, felt more, when she was with Rafe.
She must be falling in love with him. And that made it even harder to tell the truth about her father.
“Racing is dangerous. Not just for Rowan, but for you, too, Rafe.”
“How so?”
“I saw you out there. You were acting as the starter assistant. What if Rowan bolted or kicked? What if you got really hurt?”
Rafe flung his head back and dropped his hands to his sides in exasperation. He took a deep breath. “This is what I am, Olivia. And Rowan was bred to run. He’s a Thoroughbred and though most of them bite and nip and can be really cantankerous, he’s not. You’ve seen that.”
“It was his first time in that tiny little pen at the starting gate. Howard told me that Thoroughbreds can go crazy—”
“But he didn’t,” Rafe countered. “I won’t deny that I was nervous, but that’s why I wanted to be out there with him. I knew if he saw me, he had a better chance of staying calm. He was always calm around my dad, but—”
Rafe opened his palms and then closed them. He stared at the ground.
“He’s not here,” she finished for him. “I’m so sorry he wasn’t.”
“Me, too. And that’s what I need to explain to you. Racing was the thing that gave my dad joy. The farm and its success drove him. He was an ambitious man. There are still people around Indian Lake who say he was a tyrant, even a thief, when it came to how he acquired his land. But I only know his side of the story.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he spent his youth on the streets in Sicily and was hungry nearly all his life. He swore he would find a way to get to America, and he did. He went to New York first and found it just as gang-infested and brutal as Italy. But he got a job and saved his money. He heard about the farms here in Indian Lake from a tourist in the restaurant where he worked. He heard the land was cheap. He came out here and bought this first parcel. He said he knew how to grow tomatoes and started with that. When he learned of other farms going up for sale, he offered to buy them, rather than allow corporate farms to come in. At the time, his neighbors were willing to sell to him. He never stole anything from anybody. At least not in this country. He was proud to be an American. Proud that he learned the English language and proud to work the land.”
“And the horses came later?”
“Not really. He had a workhorse from the beginning. My mother liked to ride, so he bought a horse for her for twenty dollars. By the time I showed interest in horses, he’d already been looking at Thoroughbreds. He knew they could also make a lot of money if they won.”
Olivia struggled with her vow to listen and not judge. Not react. Beating back her fear, she tried to open her mind to what Rafe was sharing with her. “Did he like to gamble?”
Rafe chuckled. “You’re so funny.”
“Funny? How?”
“My father’s entire life was a gamble. Living on the streets means you have no roof over your head. You live in cardboard boxes, under bridges—whatever you can find. Waking up every day was a gamble, Olivia. Working a cargo boat to get to the United States was a gamble. Then trying to work a farm when he wasn’t a farmer—that was a gamble. If anything, I’d say my dad was driven by fear of the known all his life. He’d known too much poverty to ever go back. He had no family. My mother said that was why he wanted so many children. He would have been happy if there had been twelve sons.” He laughed.
She touched his hand. “You really loved him,” she whispered, her heart swelling.
“More than I could ever tell him.”
“But you’re telling him now. With this win.”
“I am.”
“I think I understand now.” Her eyes plumbed his. “Thank you for telling me all this, Rafe. I didn’t know.”
“So you see, Olivia, this little hometown race was a very big deal for this family. It was like—well, my father coming back to us. Even if just for two minutes. He was there today with all of us. Cheering us on. Sharing in the winner’s circle.”
She gasped and her hand flew to her heart. “Rafe. I saw it. That moment. I caught it on my camera. You really did feel his presence, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Olivia. I did.” He choked out the reply. “So you see? This wasn’t just a race. It was a gift to my dad.”
“I understand.”
Cocking his head slightly, he studied her. “So what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to the judges? Take this away from us?”
Olivia realized that despite the fact she’d laid the burden at Rafe’s feet, he was not taking up the gauntlet. He would not do anything about the slow-motion pictures or what she’d seen. She wasn’t the official judge or the person in charge. She had no authority in this matter.
“The reality is, Rafe, that Rowan ran a stellar race. If it had been a Graded Stakes race, with another win or two, Rowan could run in the Kentucky Derby. He’s that good. Mr. Blue was just as fast, so he’s a contender, as well. In the end, their times are the only criteria that will matter to the racing world. I’m not going to do anything, Rafe. I have the photos if you ever want them, but for now, they’ll stay on my hard drive.”
“You’d do that?”
“For you—and for Rowan, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you for being a real friend, Olivia,” Rafe said and put his arms around her.
She leaned her cheek against his hard chest. He smelled of spice and soap, but not the leather she’d picked up when he’d kissed her today in the fairgrounds’ horse barn. He hadn’t been to see Rowan since his shower, she guessed.
She was glad he’d opened up to her even though she’d been less than forthcoming about her own past. His respect and love for his father radiated out from him with every word. She knew Rowan’s win today had gone a long way toward easing Rafe’s guilt and grief.
If she’d brought up her fears, which were in complete conflict with Rafe’s motivations, they might have walked away from each other and never known this moment. Holding and comforting each other.
She could feel his heartbeat against her temple. It was in perfect sync with hers.
She’d done the right thing. She’d keep the truth locked away in the past where it couldn’t hurt her again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OLIVIA WAS GLAD she’d worn a jacket to the barbecue. Now that the sun had set, it was downright chilly. Fortunately, Gabe and Nate had built a huge fire in the pit at the edge of the terrace. Everyone had grouped their chairs around the fire, and now they were munching on the chips and guacamole that Maddie had made.
Gina had set up a buffet of hamburgers and all the fixings, a huge Italian romaine salad with parmesan cheese and olive oil dressing, and cannoli for dessert.
Olivia watched Rafe build an enormous hamburger with two charcoal-broiled patties, slices of Swiss cheese, dill pickles and tomato. Olivia wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get his mouth around the monster burger, but he did. He grabbed a beer and waited patiently while Olivia filled her plate with salad and placed a plain burger sans bun on the side. She smiled up at him as she selected a bottle of water.
Rafe frowned at her plate. “You’ll starve if you eat like that.”
“I’m saving my calories for the cannoli.”
“Can’t argue with that. Mom makes the best.” He paused. “Neck and neck with your macarons.”
She smiled, happy that he remembered her cookies. She remembered he’d called her the cookie girl.
“I’ll make some extras for Liz’s baby shower and slip them into the refrigerator for you.”
“Better mark the box with my name, otherwise Mica will eat them all.”
“Good tip.” Olivia laughed as they walked over to the fire and joined the rest of the family.
“Olivia, come sit next to me,” Maddie said, patting the faux wicker chair next to hers. “The fire is really warm.”
Rafe put his plate on a small folding table and moved it next to Olivia. Then he pulled up a chair beside her. To his left was Gabe, who sat with Liz on a chaise, rubbing her shoulders while she warmed her hands near the fire. On another chaise, Austin and Katia chatted with each other. Olivia greeted Sarah and Luke, who were zipping Timmy and Annie into windbreakers. Isabelle Hawks sat in a folding chair next to Cate Sullivan and Mrs. Beabots, and though they gave Olivia a wave, it was clear they were deep in discussion and didn’t wish to be disturbed at the moment.
“So, little bro,” Gabe said with a wide grin. “Has the thrill of victory worn off yet?”
Rafe shook his head. “Absolutely not. I figure this day lasts till midnight. I’ve got hours to bask in it. Tomorrow it’s back to real life.”
“Good for you,” Nate added. “You should squeeze this for all it’s worth.”
Gina sat on a chaise across from Rafe with a black shawl shot with silver threads wrapped around her. Over her legs she’d placed a summer blanket. Sam Crenshaw sipped a glass of red wine in an Adirondack rocking chair beside her, his gaze distant. “Bella luna,” Sam mumbled, pointing at the rising moon.
Gina patted his hand, and Sam lowered his head and smiled at her. Noticing that Olivia was watching, Gina focused her attention on Rafe. “I think they should schedule the Indian Lake race in June next year when it’s warmer. This early in April is practically winter. We were lucky the snow had melted off the track.”
Rafe wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “There’s a reason for that.”
“And that is?” Gabe asked.
“It may be a charity race and for most people it’s just for fun, but a couple of the horses, like Swept Away and Mr. Blue, can use their times to get into the competition at real tracks like Hawthorne Racecourse in Cicero. Or Arlington. Possibly a Graded Stakes race like Delta Downs in Louisiana.”
“So you’re telling me that there’s no such thing as a friendly horse race?” Nate asked, sipping on a margarita.
“Not to a Thoroughbred owner. Every horse in that race came from a racer. Sire or mare. They were all bred to run. Just like Rowan. Every owner has dreams. Big, small. Doesn’t matter. It’s my guess that every one of those owners thought their horse was going to win today. Even the slowest one. He wouldn’t have been there if the owner didn’t think he had a chance. None of the horses had run before, or if they had, Curt and I hadn’t heard of it. Now three of them, Rowan, Mr. Blue and Swept Away, are primed for the circuits for next year’s Derby.”
“What about this year’s Kentucky Derby?” Olivia asked.
Rafe put his plate down on the table. “It’s too late for this year. Next year they’ll all be three years old, and the better horses like Mr. Blue and Swept Away will have tested themselves at Gulfstream Park or Golden Gate Field. It will be a year of crisscrossing the country to gain the points they need to enter the Kentucky Derby.”
“Points?” Nate interjected. “I thought all a horse had to do was win two hundred and fifty thousand, give or take ten or twenty grand, and he was in. That’s what Dad always said. I’ve heard about some of these horses that win a race in April before the Derby, and boom! Like Delta Downs. Six hundred thousand to the winner. That’s it. He’s in.”
“You’re behind the times, bro. Two years ago the qualifying process changed drastically. The days when any Graded Stakes races would count toward a horse making his way to the Derby are over. Now it’s much tougher.”
“How so?” Gabe asked.
“It’s all based on points now. Each horse has to earn thirty-six points in Graded Stakes races and he has to finish in the top four in every race. And those races have to be Kentucky Derby Prep races, specifically.”
“Scam!” Nate yelled.
“Conspiracy!” Gabe concurred. “That’s un-American.”
Olivia realized she’d been shoveling salad into her mouth as she tried to block out the litany of racetracks that turned her blood to
ice. On her last bite, her hand was shaking so much, the salad fell off the fork. She put the utensil down and wrapped her hands around the plastic water bottle to steady them.
How was it possible that she had locked away the pain her father had caused her for nearly half her life but suddenly, in the past month, she was revisiting memories of him and his gambling at every turn?
She couldn’t ignore the fact that her inner turmoil had started when she’d met Rowan and Rafe.
Rafe was immersed in the racing world. He’d just told her that winning races was the only dream that brought his father joy. Olivia realized that Rafe had also been drawing her a very clear picture of who he was and what he wanted to do with his life.
The Indian Lake Hospital Foundation Horse Race wasn’t just a single event for Rafe or Rowan. It was a beginning. It was a test. Much like the other owners, Rafe had wanted to see which horse was king of the field. Olivia had photographs to prove that Mr. Blue had won this race, but that didn’t change the fact that Rowan was a trophy-winning horse.
As Rafe told everyone about the intricacies of qualifying for the most prestigious horse race in the United States, Olivia felt as if she was falling down a tunnel, getting farther and farther away from the real world and the people around her.
Thirty minutes ago she’d been proud of herself for keeping her fears hidden, but she’d only fooled herself. Nothing had been solved.
And it was her responsibility to deal with it all.
Here she sat in the middle of a discussion about the astronomical sums of money it took for a horse to win a place in a prestigious race, which offered even more money. With each word her friends said, Olivia’s blood pressure rose until she heard the thrumming of her heart in her temples. She felt light-headed. Thank goodness she’d only grabbed water to drink. Even the caffeine in iced tea would have set her heart tripping like a faulty metronome.
Get a grip, Olivia.
Earlier, she’d felt as if she was falling in love with Rafe. Yet, how could she be?
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