We arrived before Mary Beth and were enjoying ourselves, eating the delicious passed hors d’oeuvres of watermelon and chevre bites and tiny lobster clubs. It was one of the first times Chris and I had gone out together in a while and it felt good to be out of our barn clothes. Maybe this was just what we needed. He introduced me to a bunch of people as his girlfriend and that made me feel floaty. He also was introduced to several couples and each time I was pretty impressed by how good Chris was at making smooth, congenial small talk. People asked about the horses he had and he made them seem exciting and at the same time hinted that he needed to build up his string. With each wealthy couple he talked to, I could feel him hoping that somehow something he’d say would strike a nerve with them. That they’d be charmed by his manners and his determination and ask him more about his plans to buy an Olympic caliber horse. One older gentleman did give Chris his card, suggesting they meet for lunch sometime. “I’d love to hear more about your plans,” he said.
When we had turned away, Chris said, “Do you realize who that was?”
I shook my head.
“Harborview Investments? James Carp?”
I was still drawing a blank.
“Ask your dad. He’ll know. James Carp is one of the wealthiest men in the country.”
“So he could totally buy you a number one horse.”
“He could buy me five number one horses.”
“Does he own horses, or have a granddaughter who rides or something?”
“No. His wife is very involved with the charity so they came tonight.”
“Sounds promising,” I said. “You’re going to call him, right?”
“Oh my God, yeah.” Chris was smiling more than I’d seen him in a while. And it was contagious.
I’d seen Mary Beth come in with Andres but they hadn’t said hello to us yet. Andres was wearing a blue tuxedo with a shiny collar. On anyone else it might have looked ridiculous, but he was pulling it off. Mary Beth was wearing a coral colored halter gown with a jeweled collar. The two pieces of fabric that covered her fairly significant breasts crisscrossed at the collar while creating a peek-a-boo hole between her breasts. If I had been wearing said dress I would have been clawing constantly at my chest to make sure the fabric hadn’t shifted, revealing a loose boob. But Mary Beth seemed utterly confident in her dress and herself as she and Andres made their way over, causing a few heads to turn as they did. Some of those heads might have been men ogling Andres, but still.
MB leaned close and kissed me on the cheek first, then Chris—thankfully on the cheek too, although I noticed she kissed him awfully close to his lips. She smelled wonderful. “What are you all smiling about?” she said.
“Chris just met a potential sponsor,” I blurted.
“Oh, who knows.” Chris’s smile disappeared and I realized I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Really? Who?” Mary Beth said.
“If it was James Carp, don’t get excited,” Andres said. “He loves getting people all hot and bothered, having them drool all over him, and then never gives a cent away. Perpetual blue-baller.”
I wasn’t going to speak up again and risk saying the wrong thing. I wasn’t sure if we should admit to it being James or just brush it off.
“Whatever,” Chris said. “It doesn’t matter who it was.”
“Your dress is gorgeous,” I told Mary Beth. “Where did you get it?”
“This? Thank you,” she said nonchalantly. “Oh, just foraged in my closet.”
A photographer appeared and asked us to stand together. First the four of us and then Mary Beth and Chris alone. Andres and I stood back and watched as the woman took the photo. Chris was trying to smile but I could tell his hopes had been sunk a notch over James Carp. When I got him alone again, I said, “Andres might not be right. What does he know?”
“He knows everything,” Chris said glumly.
“Well, maybe this time James Carp will come through. You should still have lunch with him, don’t you think?”
“Probably not. Waste of time.”
“You can’t think like that. You have to stay positive… follow every lead.”
“How do you know what you have to do?” Chris said. “I’m sick of following every lead. None of them are working out.”
“That’s not true. The Tellers have pledged.”
“It’s not nearly enough.”
“But you’ll get there, I’m sure you will.”
Chris looked straight at me. “Hannah, your optimism is kind of killing me right now. Can we just grin and bear it, and get through this stupid evening?”
His response took the wind out of me. I had bought a four hundred dollar dress for this stupid evening, and I didn’t look nearly as good as Mary Beth in what she’d apparently pulled out of her closet, if that was to be believed. I knew it wasn’t Chris’s fault that he felt down about his prospects but I wanted this one night at least to feel like it could be happy for us. I had been trying so hard. This was my prom make-up.
Feeling teary, I excused myself and went to the bathroom. For distraction, I took out my phone and was nearly pleased to see four texts from Linda, until I read them.
Tizz got cast.
Trying to get him out.
Sorry to interrupt your party but I’m freaking out.
Got him down but it’s not good.
I stepped outside the tent and called her. I was in first responder mode now and it was a relief not to think about how the night was turning out. “How is he?”
“It’s not good at all. He seems to have really hurt his back.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I’m sure he’s out for a while. Dr. Robb stabilized him and gave him some meds to make him comfortable. Tomorrow we’ll get X-rays and see what’s what.”
“Do you want me to come over there?”
“No, you’re at the party. You should enjoy yourself.”
“It’s not been that great so far.”
“Really, why not?”
I thought about unloading on Linda but it didn’t seem like the time for either of us. “I’ll tell you later. I guess I should get back.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow.”
At first I couldn’t find Chris when I came back into the tent, having steeled myself to pull it together. I spotted Andres, who looked like he was flirting with an older gentleman. Maybe Chris wasn’t the only person at this party hunting for a sponsor. Finally, I saw Chris with Mary Beth. Chris didn’t look glum anymore. Quite the opposite. He was throwing his head back as he laughed in that way I had fallen in love with in Vermont. I wasn’t loving it so much now since it was Mary Beth that was making him laugh. She was laughing too, holding her drink out to keep it from spilling she was guffawing so hard. I strode over to them and linked my arm through Chris’s. It was very un-me, showy and possessive but I’d had enough.
“You were gone a while,” Chris said.
“I had a bunch of texts from Linda and then I stepped outside and called her. Dakota’s best jumper got cast and Linda thinks he’s really hurt.”
“Well, they certainly have enough money to get a replacement,” Mary Beth remarked.
“Still, the horse is hurt.”
“You’re right,” Mary Beth said, quickly correcting herself. It was like she had let her real, harsher self slip out for a moment and then caught herself.
I hated when people talked about horses “breaking” as in, “Oh, my jumper’s broke so I had to go shopping in Europe for another.” These were animals, not cars. Who knew what would happen to Tizz if he didn’t recover enough to be a jumper again. Maybe Dakota’s parents would retire him to some nice farm down South—they certainly could afford to. But more likely he’d be passed on to someone else and passed on again and might end up at a not-so-nice barn getting poor care.
“What was making you guys laugh so much?” I asked them.
“We were remembering the first Nations Cup we ever showed in,” Mary Beth said.
“It’s not really that funny,” he said.
“I’ll tell the story,” Mary Beth said. “And it is funny. Okay, so we’re in Bratislava. I think we were both nineteen, right?”
Chris nodded, looking uncomfortable with how this whole thing was going down. I hated that the story was all about them. Surely it would be about how they were such babies back at age nineteen—the age I was now.
“We’re so excited to be riding for the U.S., we’re out of our minds. It’s our first time wearing our pinque coats. We have our white breeches on. We’re thinking we look so good and we’re the Americans and we’re gonna kill it. I’m the lead-off rider so I go first and I trot into the ring thinking I am the total bomb. Chris is watching from the in-gate. Well, my horse stops at the second jump and I go flying. It’s a grass ring and it rained the day before so the grass is still kind of moist and my white breeches are now brown-green. Disgusting. I limp out of the ring feeling like such a loser. Then Chris goes in and his horse stops at the third jump and he goes flying off and we now have matching brown-green breeches.”
Mary Beth giggled and glanced sideways at Chris. “It wasn’t really funny at the time. At the time we were pretty mortified but it got funnier over the years.”
“That is so funny,” I said, which is what someone says instead of laughing when something really isn’t funny. Maybe it was funny. I couldn’t have an objective perspective on it because I was so rattled by their shared history.
Chris added, “We both went clean in the second round though.”
“And you won the grand prix that weekend,” Mary Beth said.
“And you were second.”
“So it wasn’t really too bad for a first European outing.”
I wanted to vomit at their cute patter.
“And we went out to a pub that night and drank with the Irish team and the Dutch team and got totally wasted,” Mary Beth said.
I looked askance at Chris. “You got totally wasted?”
“That was a long time ago. Back then I didn’t worry so much about, I don’t know, about everything, I guess.”
“I wish I had known you back then,” I griped. It was mean-spirited and airing our dirty laundry in front of Mary Beth. I felt yucky after I’d said it.
“It was easier back then, wasn’t it?” she said, as if I hadn’t even spoken. “I mean we were just so happy to be riding for the team. We were on cloud nine about it. We weren’t necessarily thinking about the World Cup or the Olympics. I mean, sure, if we made it, great, but it wasn’t like that was all there was.”
“Yeah, it was different, that’s for sure. I wasn’t worried about my business. I kind of just thought it would all work out. I’d ride well, sponsors would find me, and buy me horses. I guess I was naïve back then.”
“I’m not sure you were naïve,” she said. “We just didn’t know the business enough. That comes with experience.”
Chris turned somber again but it was different from before because Mary Beth shared the sentiment. They were on the same wavelength. They understood each other in a way I worried I could never understand Chris. Although, I wasn’t sure exactly how Mary Beth understood it all so well since she had her parents’ money to fund her career.
He continued, “Veteran riders talked to me about how owners were fickle and horses got hurt and one moment you were the top in the sport and then you had nothing to ride. But I never really believed that would be me. I thought somehow it would be different for me. I’d keep my horses sound. I’d keep my owners happy…” Chris trailed off.
A few tables over a handful of people burst out laughing as if it were designed on cue to make our group feel worse.
“Whenever I want a laugh I close my eyes and imagine our breeches that day,” Mary Beth said. “Cheer up. You’re a great rider. You have some promising horses. Your luck will change. You’re acting like you’re fifty and your career is dead.”
I waited for Chris’s response. I certainly had never dared say basically the equivalent of ‘buck up’ to him before and when I’d tried to be generally positive earlier in the night he’d shut me down.
“Thanks,” Chris said, and he sounded genuine. “You made me think about when I loved this sport whole-heartedly and I needed that tonight.”
Mary Beth held up her drink. “To many more Nations Cups and keeping our breeches clean!”
Chris raised his glass and I did too, even though it felt like the toast was more about them than me.
Chapter 22
Arkos was on the cross ties with ice-boots on. He’d just come from the show where he’d put in yet another poor performance in a 1.40 meter class. I’d come over to Chris’s to visit Logan. Sometimes when I had a little free time, I came over to groom him or watch him in the paddock. A few times I’d come and flatted him when Chris had really busy days.
Eduardo had gone into the tack room and I was fussing around with Arkos. He was such a beautiful horse and sweet, too. It didn’t seem fair that pretty soon it could be the end of the line for him. Well, to be honest, maybe his life would be better as an equitation horse. He wouldn’t have to jump nearly as high, but then again he’d probably be drilled over three-six constantly. Either way would have its plusses and minuses. One thing was for sure, Arkos was lucky he was in Chris’s barn. In another stable, he would probably have been coerced into being careful. Chris had used bamboo a few times with him but bamboo used correctly wasn’t cruel, he told me. I had watched him school Arkos once using a bamboo offset and from what I saw I had to agree with him. But another trainer would have poled Arkos relentlessly, used capsaicin to make his skin sensitive, tried bell boots with carpet tacks sewed into them, and God knows what else. Chris wouldn’t do any of those things.
I wished I could peek into Arkos’s mind and see what he was feeling and thinking. Did he want to be a show jumper? Some people believed that horses didn’t think about these things—but I believed that the best horses actually wanted to win. That they knew when it was a big night and a big class and they tried their hardest to leave the jumps up. That it wasn’t just self-preservation when being thrown at a huge obstacle; that they knew on some level what clearing all the jumps meant. I’d even seen horses that seemed to be smart enough to know how much they could touch a jump and still leave it up. They were the horse-equivalent of the student who learns how to skim a book and still pull off an A paper.
Arkos had an intelligent eye. He seemed like he’d be one of the smart ones. So why was he knocking the jumps down? The only answer was that he was playing hurt but again and again the tests had come back negative.
I ran my hand across his neck, feeling the muscles underneath. He got acupuncture, massage, all kinds of treatments by experienced professionals. There was no way I could find something that they had missed. But I couldn’t help myself from trying. I worked from his poll to his withers, using my fingers pressed together and leaning in at times to get the right amount of pressure. Arkos curled his head toward me and gave me a pleased look like he was saying, I didn’t know I was on the schedule for a massage today. Some horses were less enthusiastic about being massaged but even the nastiest ones usually came around to enjoying it when they realized how good it felt.
I detected the usual knots and sore spots but nothing out of the ordinary. No Ah-ha moment. It didn’t help that I had no idea what I was looking to find.
I gave up on his neck and worked around his poll. I used my thumb this time to palpate the areas behind his ears like Dede had shown me. He lowered his head happily but then when I moved to the spot right behind his eye it must have hurt because he jerked his head up, nearly smashing my nose in the process.
I withdrew my hand. “Did that hurt?” I ran my thumb on the same spot. Again, he jerked away. This time I was prepared and drew back so I wouldn’t get hit. I took him off the cross ties and put a lead rope on him so he wouldn’t end up breaking the cro
ss ties. Once more time I pressed the same spot. This time he shook his head like he was trying to get me to go away. I tried the same spot on the other side. He flinched but it wasn’t as bad.
Eduardo came out of the tack room and I put Arkos back on the cross ties for him. I patted his neck and told Eduardo I was just giving him a little massage.
As he took off the ice-boots, I sat down on a tack trunk and texted Dede. What does it mean if a horse is really sore in the spot between eyeball and ear?
How sore?
Whip head back and try to run sore.
Don’t see that very often. But could be TMJ.
Like the jaw clenching thing?
Yup.
Horses can get that?
Yes. Teeth floated regularly?
I was sure Chris’s horses had their teeth floated on schedule but I would certainly check.
I decided Chris wouldn’t mind if I asked Dede to see Arkos in person. Could you come look at him? He’s at Chris’s barn.
Maybe later today. At the end of the day.
That would be amazing. That would give me time also to mention it to Chris.
Chris had stayed at the show with Lily so I decided to wait at the farm till he came back. I Googled TMJ and TMJ in horses. Of course Dede was right. It was a legitimate thing. I read that it was often hard to know what caused it in the first place but actually having the equine dentist come and use the oral speculum could exacerbate it and so could something as simple as eating a hard treat like a big carrot. I thought about the steroidal carrots that most farms had delivered from the landscapers in industrial size thick plastic bags.
When Chris came back, I explained how I’d been messing around with the limited massage techniques Dede had taught me and discovered that Arkos was really sore between his eye and ear, especially on the right side.
“When was the last time he had his teeth done?” I asked.
“Before circuit.” Chris was looking at me like I was crazy and like he didn’t have time for quackery.
Winter Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 2) Page 15
