The meeting ran late into the evening as they wrestled genially about regulations and organization, with several refills of coffee cups by Abby and her dad Charlie. Erin and Andrew were playing Hangman and Battleship at a different table by the time Mr. Bowdrey had drawn up his notes and the envelopes containing the various offers were collected.
As her friends prepared to leave, Jacquie went to stand by one of the diner windows. Lost in her thoughts, staring out into the night, she jumped as a hand fell on her shoulder. Looking around, she found Kate behind her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. I was just thinking.” Regretting. Hoping. Wishing for the moon.
Kate smiled and turned to lean back against the window. “I wanted to tell you…don’t blame yourself too much for what happened in the past.”
“If only it were just the past. I was…deceiving…all of you just a couple of weeks ago.”
“We’ll get over it.” Kate leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Just take care of yourself. And Erin.” She glanced across the room. “And Rhys.”
That brought her back to her thoughts. Jacquie sighed. “I’m not sure I deserve the chance.”
RHYS STOOD BY the diner door to speak with everyone as they left. Not that words were easy for him tonight. The kindness and concern of these people overwhelmed him. He’d never known such generosity of spirit.
Galen caught him in a hug. “This will turn out so beautifully. Your father won’t know what hit him.”
“I can’t tell you—”
“Then don’t.” She smiled and moved past him. “I’ll call you with details in a few days. Buck, are you going to walk me to my car?”
The veterinarian stepped up quickly. “Wouldn’t miss the opportunity.” He clapped a hand on Rhys’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said. “I’ll be there to see you and Imperator take the ribbon. Coming, ma’am.” he called to Galen, who stood tapping her foot on the sidewalk outside.
Adam came last. “An interesting proposition,” the mayor said, shaking Rhys’s hand. “I’ll try to get out to your place soon to meet this fantastic horse. If not before, I’ll come to the—what’s the right word? Trial?—to watch him run.” As he finished, his fiancée stepped up beside him, having just given Jacquie an enthusiastic—and no doubt healing—hug.
“Drop by anytime. And, Phoebe, thanks so much for taking care of Erin. You really were a lifesaver.”
Her smile was serene. “That’s right, I haven’t given you my bill yet, have I?”
“There’s a bill?”
She nodded. “I have a stallion at my place named Samson. He was abused in the stable where he was boarded, and he’s gone crazy as a result. I’ve worked with him for months now, and I can barely look him in the eye before he takes off, practically cartwheeling across the pasture.”
“And…?”
“And I want you to help him. Settle him down. Turn him into a horse who enjoys people, can maybe even be ridden.”
“Ah.” The challenge appealed to him, of course. “We’ll work out the details. I’ll be glad to do what I can.”
“See, I knew you would. Now we’re even.” To his surprise, she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Good night, Rhys.”
“Sure.”
He turned to the table, where Jacquie sat with the envelopes in her hand, staring into space. Her expression gave nothing away. Abby and Charlie had disappeared into the kitchen to finish washing up.
“Do we have an answer?” Rhys sat down in his chair on Jacquie’s right. “Is there good news? Or bad?”
Her gaze focused and she looked at him. “I don’t know what to say. I never expected…” She looked down at the envelopes. “I mean, except for Galen, we’re all pretty ordinary people. But between us—”
“Wait a minute.” Abby came out from behind the counter to hand over an envelope. “I wanted to give you this.”
“You don’t have to—” Jacquie began.
“I know that. But Daddy and I wanted to be in on the fun, too. So you just put us on your list.” She scurried back to the kitchen where the clatter of dishes got suddenly louder.
Jacquie opened the envelope, and gasped. “Oh, my goodness.”
Andrew and Erin came over. “What’s wrong?”
She looked at the kids, and then at Rhys. Her eyes shone with joy. “That’s done it. Including what Abby just gave me, and Dixon and Galen and all the others…
“We can bid up to two million dollars to keep our horse!”
Erin screamed, and threw her arms around Andrew, who pushed her away, and then Rhys, who didn’t. As soon as he returned his daughter’s hug, he turned to Jacquie.
“Thanks to you,” he said softly. He stroked his hand along her cheek. “Only you.”
ANDREW’S GRANDFATHER ARRIVED on the Thursday morning before the Top Flight event, in a long black limousine.
“Is this a funeral?” Andrew murmured in Erin’s ear as they peered through one of the drawing-room windows, watching the car crawl up the front driveway of the house.
“Well, there is the body I buried out by the barn.”
He snorted. “That was a grass snake.”
“Who says a snake can’t have a funeral?”
The driver opened the rear door and his granddad stood up out of the car. White-haired and tall, with the blue eyes Andrew saw every day in the mirror, Owen Lewellyn looked around him with pursed lips, and Andrew could practically see the cash register in his mind, ringing up the worth of the place.
Following Owen out of the car was a man in a suit and an Arab headdress.
“The sheikh,” Andrew said, faking an excited voice.
His dad walked by and cuffed him on the shoulder. “Come. And be polite.”
They waited at the front door as the two men climbed the steps. “Welcome, Dad.” Father and son shook hands as if they hadn’t met before. “And welcome, of course, Mr. Al Fahed.” The dark man nodded and bowed.
Once inside, Owen turned to Andrew. “You’re growing, I see that. You look just like your father at that age.”
What was the polite answer? “Uh…thank you. Sir.”
Those cold eyes moved to Erin’s face. “What’s this?”
His dad went to stand behind Erin with his hands on her shoulders. “This is my daughter, Dad. Erin Archer.”
“Your what?”
“I’ll explain in private.”
“You’d damned well better. Meantime, Al Fahed and I want to see the horse.” The three men went toward the back of the house, disappearing through the door under the staircase.
Erin sank into a heap on the floor, her face hidden by her arms, her shoulders shaking. She didn’t move even when Andrew nudged her with his foot. “Come on. Forget him. He’s like that to everybody.”
She looked up at him, and he saw she was laughing, not crying. “What a character. He’s like somebody in a movie or a book, too evil to be real. Was he ever nice to you, when you were a little kid?”
“I didn’t see him much after my mom and I left. He’s pretty much always been the same.”
“Does he even like horses?”
“That’s about all he does like. He’s really different with them. You’ll see.”
When they got to the barn, his dad had Imperator on a lead, with Owen and Al Fahed watching. Imp held his head high, and his eyes flashed fire. He enjoyed showing off.
“Let me have him,” Owen ordered, and took the rope out of Rhys’s hand. “C’mon, Imp,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Trot.”
They made a strange picture, the white-haired man in a black suit running across the yard with the big black stallion beside him. But their antics also looked like a game they’d played many times before. Owen feinted left and right, and Imp would follow, imitating the movement. Imp stopped hard, and Owen would turn to back him up—not in anger, but in fun. Andrew had never seen anything quite like the relationship of his granddad and that horse.
He’d never before, in his whole li
fe, seen his granddad grin.
“Wow,” Erin said. “He can’t be all bad.”
RHYS MET WITH HIS FATHER alone in the gathering room before everyone else came downstairs for dinner.
“So explain this daughter,” Owen said, pouring himself a whiskey.
For what he hoped would be the last time in his life, Rhys gave some of the details about that summer. “Jacquie left without notice, if you’ll remember. I discovered when I got down here in January that we had a daughter together.”
“She must not have thought much of you, if she didn’t bother to tell you in—what?—fourteen years.”
“That’s hardly an issue now. I’m happy to acknowledge Erin as my child and hope to be a decent father to her.”
His father snorted. “Whatever that means.”
Rhys held his temper. “I would appreciate it if you refrained from venting your wit or your anger on her for the duration of your visit. Jacquie will be at the horse trials, and I’d prefer you not talk to her at all. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.”
“I’ll say what I like and be damned to you.” Owen’s Welsh accent returned when he got mad.
“Then I can and will arrange to have you removed from the grounds.”
After a moment, Owen dropped his gaze to his glass and took a long gulp. Terry came in a minute later—though Rhys suspected he’d been listening in the hallway all along—and soon Andrew and Erin and the sheikh appeared, as well. Rhys thanked God that Jacquie had had the good sense to decline his invitation to dinner.
Galen, however, arrived “by accident” just as they went into the dining room. She swept into the house in a cloud of expensive perfume, her mink stole trailing from one shoulder.
“Rhys, I just had to come by to wish you luck tomorrow. You know I’ll be there watching.” Her surprise, when she saw his guests, looked authentic. “Mr. Lewellyn, what a pleasure to see you, sir. It’s been years, but I would have known you anywhere. You haven’t changed at all, except for that distinguished white hair.”
“You have,” his father said. “I remember pigtails and crooked teeth.”
She laughed as if he’d given her a compliment. “I’m so glad to have grown up.” She turned to Al Fahed. “Have we met?”
In the course of introductions, another place was set and Galen allowed herself to be persuaded to stay for dinner. She dominated the conversation, of course. By the end of the meal, both men were quite charmed by her presence.
“I must run,” she said, as they all got to their feet. “I will look for you all at Rourke Park tomorrow afternoon. We can talk more then. It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen.” She allowed both Owen and the sheikh to kiss her hand. “Good night.”
At the door, she whispered to Rhys, “Just keep them mellow. I’ll do the rest.”
“Oh, sure,” Rhys countered. “Give me the hard part.”
JACQUIE’S SCHEDULE on Friday, the first day of the Top Flight Horse Trials, became crazy, thanks to an emergency call for shoe repair. She stayed at Rourke Park long enough to watch Erin and Andrew perform their dressage tests at the lower levels, then rushed off to a farm halfway across the county. She returned on Friday afternoon as Terry unloaded Imp from the trailer. “He looks fantastic.” She walked around the horse, examining each detail. “Every braid in his mane exactly like the next, tail silky, hooves shined, face and ears all shaved and clean…perfect.” Lifting the horse’s chin with one hand, she kissed his nose. “Be a good boy today, okay?”
Then she looked at Rhys, so elegantly handsome in his cutaway black jacket, white breeches and gloves, and top hat. “You’ll do, as well,” she told him.
He tipped his hat. “Thank you, ma’am. I aim not to disgrace the horse.”
She stood with Erin, Andrew and Terry as Rhys and Imperator performed their dressage test with control and grace. A sizable crowd gathered to witness the famous stallion’s return to top-level competition, and Imp rewarded them with a stellar performance.
“One down,” Rhys said as he slid out of the saddle. “Two to go.” He looked beyond Jacquie. “Prepare yourself. This next few minutes will be tough.”
When she turned, she saw the man in the suit and Arab headdress first, then noticed and recognized his companion. The resemblance between Rhys and his father was pronounced, even though the elder Lewellyn’s hair had gone pure silver-white.
But Erin had warned her about Owen’s attitude, so she thought she was prepared for the worst.
“I remember you,” he said, without further introduction. “You were a graceless, snippy thing that summer. And now I hear you ran off because—”
Rhys gripped his father’s arm. “I meant what I said. Another word in that line and you’ll be headed back to New York before you can sneeze twice.”
Owen removed his arm from his son’s hold with an attempt at dignity. “Don’t manhandle me. The horse looked good on the flat. Is he ready for the jumps tomorrow?”
That was the question on everyone’s mind as they all met at the horse trailer on Saturday morning. The members of the consortium had turned up to wish Rhys good luck in person.
Galen immediately took control of Owen and Al Fahed, strolling arm in arm with them, introducing them to the horse people she knew in the crowd, which was just about everyone.
Phoebe and Adam, Dixon and Kate and her teenage children, along with Erin and Andrew, gathered around Imperator as Terry gave him a final once-over. Rhys, however, had disappeared.
Jacquie found him in the only private space on the course—the horse box of the trailer. She looked in the door to see him leaning against the wall, one foot flat on the bulkhead while he stared at the helmet he was turning between his hands. He wore his dark blue safety vest over a gold knit shirt, tan breeches and tall, shiny black boots.
“Shall I go away?” she asked softly.
He smiled at her. “No, come into the parlor and admire my decorating.”
She stepped over several piles of horse droppings. “Early manure styling.”
“Imperator is quite a talented designer.”
“So I see.” She paused, and he went back to staring at the helmet. “How do you feel?”
“Calm. Terrified.”
“Of the fences?”
Rhys shook his head. “No. If that comes, it’ll be at the fence itself. I just…would hate to let everybody down.”
“That will only happen if you don’t ride at all. And you’re here, so you’ve already met all our expectations.”
“I’m sorry about my father.”
“Don’t be. He doesn’t bother me anymore. I don’t need his approval of my life. Neither do you.”
“No, I don’t, thanks to you and Galen. Just the ability to purchase Imperator sets me free from him.”
“She’s got him completed enchanted, if that’s any comfort. Eating out of her hand. I think he’d give her the horse at this point. Al Fahed’s a little stiffer, but I expect Galen to have him under control by the end of the day.”
Outside, the loudspeaker announced that the first rider would begin the course in twenty minutes.
Rhys straightened up. “We go tenth, so I’d better start warming up.” He closed the distance between them. “I really appreciate everything, Jacquie. Your help, your support…and our daughter.”
She touched his face. “Good luck,” she said softly, and drew him down to her for a gentle, wondering kiss.
When he lifted his head, they both smiled. “After that,” Rhys said, “how can I lose?”
THE CROSS-COUNTRY COURSE at Rourke Park wandered over rolling hills and down into the dells between them, across the creek running through the land and in a track around the flat pasture once used for crops. The fences were varied and challenging, including an original tobacco barn requiring horse and rider to go inside and then take a drop jump to get out.
Erin hopped up and down with excitement as they waited for Rhys’s start. Andrew had dropped his usual blasé air, a
nd fidgeted just as much as his half sister. The adults tried to control their nerves, but anxiety and anticipation were in the air.
“He’s as ready as I can make him,” Terry commented to Jacquie. “And I don’t know if it’s enough.”
“He’ll do it,” she said confidently. “I believe he’s going all the way this time.” They both knew they weren’t talking solely—or even mostly—about Imperator.
Hearing her name called, Jacquie turned toward the entrance to the course and saw her parents coming toward them. “What in the world are y’all doing here?”
“We wanted to see the horse.” Her mother hugged her, brushed the hair back from her face and dusted a speck off her shirt. “And we wanted to see Rhys Lewellyn ride him.”
“You’re just in time.”
The loudspeaker crackled. “That was rider number nine finishing, Bobby O’Connor on Caymus. Our next rider will be the Olympic champion duo, Mr. Rhys Lewellyn and Thoroughbred stallion Imperator!” Even with the crowd spread out over miles of course, the applause sounded strong.
The bell rang for Rhys’s start.
From where they’d positioned themselves at the top of a hill, Jacquie and her friends could see the first three fences and the last two. They would miss the rest of the course.
Phoebe came to stand by Jacquie. “Want to hold my hand?”
“Please.” On her other side, Erin wove their fingers together.
Imperator came into sight, galloped across level ground, then downhill to the first jump, a double wall on either side of a wide, shallow spot on the creek, requiring the horse to land in the water and take off again immediately. Rhys looked balanced, in control, as Imp approached the jump.
Jacquie held her breath.
Imp slowed at the base of the hill, but she thought it was Rhys holding him back, setting him up for the jump. Quick as lightning, almost before she could see what happened, they were up, over…bounce…up and over.
A cheer rose around her. Phoebe squeezed her hand.
The next fence was called a coup—a triangular box, long and high, with daffodils planted at the base and bushes at both ends. Imp sailed over. But at the third jump, a zigzag log structure, the horse began to toss his head as he approached. Jacquie moaned and shut her eyes.
The Fake Husband Page 23
