“Those last comments of yours were interesting, Trevor,” Dr. James said. “Would you like to explain them further? Perhaps you could apply that same reasoning to how we interact with people. Besides, what’s so strange about talking to animals? We do it all the time with our pets, right? Jasmine is no different.”
“But people talk,” Trevor answered. “We can tell them what we want.”
“Of course,” Dr. James answered back. “But what if all the talking in the world doesn’t convince someone of your needs? Or what if the other person is deaf? What would you do then?”
Trevor thought for a moment. “Then I’d have to show him what I wanted,” he answered. “But I’d be patient.”
Dr. James resisted an impulse to literally beam at Trevor. “Very good,” she said. “Just like you do when you’re learning to ride a horse, right? You move the reins left or right to give the horse direction, or you pull them back to make him stop. And it’s all done without the spoken word. It might be a cliché, but sometimes actions truly are louder than words.”
Trevor looked at Jasmine. “See?” he asked. “Horses are more like people than you think.”
Just then the grandfather clock chimed, ending the session. Soon the teens were heading for the main barn by way of the dining room’s French doors. After grabbing their hats from the table, Trevor and Sally also started to go.
“Trevor?” Dr. James called out. “Please wait. I need to speak with you.”
Trevor groaned. He wanted nothing more than to start the day’s equestrian training. But for some unknown reason he would now have to stay behind with “sourpuss.” After trudging back to the table, he morosely reclaimed his seat.
To Trevor’s surprise, Dr. James remained quiet. Soon the other therapist and two of his teens entered the room, causing Trevor to become even more curious. To his dismay, the other kids seemed as confused as he.
The other therapist’s name was Jim Weston. A bald-headed man with a thick mustache, he was often kidded about how much he resembled Dr. Phil. Trevor didn’t know him well, but he seemed nice enough. The two teens were Sean Baker and Tina Brooke. Trevor knew Tina slightly. She was a freckle-faced blonde, and one of the prettiest girls in New Beginnings. Sean was a tall, lanky kid with dark hair.
Clarissa smiled at Jim. “These two?” she asked.
Jim smiled back at her. “Yes,” he said.
Clarissa nodded, then she motioned toward Trevor. “I have just this one,” she said cryptically. Then she smiled and shook her head. “He’s ready, but heaven help us!”
Trevor was about to ask what was going on when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Soon Wyatt and Ram walked in and sat at the table. For some mysterious reason, they seemed particularly pleased to see him sitting there with the two others. Trevor looked pleadingly at Ram for answers, but the old man only winked.
“Is this all of them?” Wyatt asked Clarissa.
Clarissa nodded. “At first I wasn’t sure about Trevor, but lately he’s made some excellent progress.”
“What’s going on?” Trevor asked Wyatt.
“You three have been chosen to begin a higher level of equestrian training,” Wyatt answered. “Barrel racing, to be exact. It’s a Flying B tradition. At this stage in the program, the therapists and equestrian coaches are asked to select some teens who have progressed far enough in both areas to take up the challenge. A few more have also been chosen from the alternate group. Everyone’s parents have given their permission. You’ll be training in the larger ring, while all the other teens continue their more traditional riding lessons in the other one.”
Wyatt looked at each teen in turn. “So what do you think?” he asked. “Are you interested? Or would you prefer to stay behind with the others and stick with walking, trotting, and cantering?”
Overcome with joy, Trevor leaped from his chair. During his time at the ranch he had learned what barrel racing was, and he had seen Mercy perform the maneuvers a few times. He had watched with awe as she charged her horse into the ring, around the barrels, and then thundered out again, all in about fifteen seconds or so. But never in his wildest dreams did he think that he’d get the chance to learn. He positively beamed at Wyatt.
“You bet your ass I would!” he shouted, causing Dr. James to sigh and resignedly shake her head.
Wyatt looked at Sean and Tina. “And you two?” he asked.
After they both heartily agreed, Ram leaned across the table and raised his bushy eyebrows up and down. “Then we might as well get this party started,” he said. “Let’s go.”
As Dr. James watched them leave through the French doors, Jim turned and looked at her. “Did the Blaines pressure you to include Trevor in this?” he asked. “I know how fond they’ve become of that kid.”
Clarissa shook her head. “They know it would have been unethical. And besides, the amazing truth is that Trevor’s ready. That last exchange between him and Jasmine cinched it for me. Must be that his riding instructor thinks he’s ready, too.”
She again looked out toward the barn. Ram, Wyatt, and the three teens were at last walking inside. Then she laughed and shook her head.
“He’s a caution, that one,” she said, half to herself. “But he’s also a charmer.”
Jim smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “And so was James Dean.”
NINETEEN
WHILE TREVOR TOOK his first barrel-racing lesson, Gabby glanced around the busy game room. Most of the other parents were also there, waiting for their teens to finish so they could take them home.
At first Gabby wasn’t sure about allowing Trevor to participate in the racing instruction. But Wyatt had assured her that it would be all right, and so she had agreed. Despite Wyatt’s promise, she decided not to go and watch because she knew it would be too stressful for her. Just the same, she hoped that Trevor would do well.
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.
Gabby relaxed in her chair and took a moment to look around the room. She knew most of the other parents by now. She couldn’t go so far as to say that the ice had truly been broken. But it was at least melting a bit, and she hoped that with time she would be able to count the other parents as friends. Deciding to stretch her legs, she left the game room and headed toward the foyer, the crossroads of the great house.
Gabby had been hugely impressed by this mansion the moment she first saw it, and she was dying to see more of it. She would do some innocent exploring, she decided. She was of course already familiar with the great foyer, the dining room, the kitchen, and the game room. But there remained several hallways leading off from the foyer that she had yet to investigate. Wondering what she might find, she chose one and started on her way.
She soon passed a sitting room, its ornate French doors lying open as if inviting her to come inside. The dark hardwood floor was immaculate, and partly covered with tasteful oriental rugs. The exquisite furniture had certainly been crafted during an earlier, more elegant era. Like in the formal dining room, here, too, hung a lovely oil portrait of Phoebe Blaine.
She passed several more rooms, each of which also boasted French doors. There was a library, a music room, and a room whose walls displayed equestrian antiques and old photos that had presumably been saved from the ranch’s earlier days. After savoring the bygone atmosphere for several moments, she continued her journey.
Soon another door loomed on her left, this one made from solid oak. The door was slightly ajar, but not enough for her to see inside. A brass key protruded from the keyhole.
Her curiosity mounting, Gabby entered the room, leaving the door open. The door hinges squeaked slightly as she let herself in. She had fully expected it to be much like the others. But to her surprise, she had been wrong.
This room was rather dark and somber. A large bay window was in the far wall. Each of the other three walls was nearly covered with black-and-white photographs, all of them encased in matching pewter frames of varying sizes. Her curiosity growing, Gabby ventur
ed farther into the room.
A large desk and a swivel desk chair sat before the bay window. On the marble window ledge were several leather-covered photo albums. In the nearby right-hand corner there stood a coat rack that held an English-style riding hat, a pair of riding gloves, and a leather crop. As she looked longer, Gabby realized that everything was coated in a fine layer of dust.
Gabby quietly approached the desk. On it lay a collection of fountain pens in a wooden-and-glass case, an old PC, a desk pad, and several more framed, black-and-white photos. On the desktop pad was a five-year-old day planner, its pages opened to the anniversary of the terrible car crash that had entwined her and Trevor with the Blaines. Covered in a fine layer of dust, the time and date of Wyatt’s tragic birthday party was noted there in red fountain-pen ink.
On reading the day planner, a possibility occurred to her. Is this Wyatt’s office? she wondered. But if it is, then why isn’t it cleaner?
She went to the window and picked up one of the photo albums. After blowing off the dust, she opened it to see pictures of Wyatt, Danny, Krista, Ram, and other people of the Flying B during earlier, happier days. Eager to see more, she started to turn the page. Just then she heard the door hinges creak again.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a male voice asked.
Gabby knew immediately who it was. She slowly turned and gazed into Wyatt’s eyes. His face held an odd expression. To her relief, she couldn’t call it anger. Rather, it was an odd mixture of sadness and remembrance.
Wyatt purposefully crossed the room. Reaching out, he took the photo album from Gabby’s hands.
“What do you want here?” he asked, so softly that she barely heard the words.
Unsure of how to answer, Gabby took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I ventured somewhere that I shouldn’t have,” she offered. “I was out exploring, and the door was open. I never meant to intrude.”
Wyatt slowly closed the album then carefully returned it to the exact place from which it had come. Without speaking, he turned and looked out the window. Unsure of what to say or do, Gabby simply stood there beside him, waiting. As the deafening silence continued, the dusty room and its treasured memorabilia seemed to start crowding in on her.
When her eyes again fell on the coat rack holding the riding things, this time she understood. The hat and gloves were too small to belong to a man, she now realized, and so they must have been Krista’s. This room was her office, her private place whenever she and Wyatt visited the ranch.
Gabby sighed and closed her eyes. “Wyatt, I’m sorry,” she said. “Until this very moment I didn’t realize that this room had been Krista’s.”
“Yes,” Wyatt answered quietly, his eyes still gazing out the window, his voice cracking with emotion. “And as you can see, she was a wonderful photographer. It was a great passion for her. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone just now.”
“Of course,” Gabby answered. She wanted to reach out and touch him before going, but decided not to. Saying nothing more, she crossed the room and shut the door.
“WHOA, THERE, YOUNG LADY,” Ram said. “Why the long face?”
Ram was sauntering down the hall, approaching Gabby as she made her way back to where she hoped the world would make sense again. Ram saw that Gabby was upset, and he purposely blocked her path. Taking her hands in his, he tried his best to smile at her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Gabby sighed. “I was walking around the house,” she answered. “This place is so lovely—I just wanted to see more of it. But I went into a room that I shouldn’t have, and Wyatt found me there.”
Ram understood at once. “Come with me,” he said. “We need to talk.”
He escorted Gabby back to the foyer and then out onto the broad porch. The sun was just starting to set, and for the first time since coming to the ranch, she was truly glad to be out of the house. Ram led her to the same wicker table and chairs where they had first gotten to know each other.
After they sat down, Ram looked compassionately into Gabby’s eyes. “It was Krista’s study, wasn’t it?” he asked.
Gabby nodded.
Ram sighed and shook his head. For several moments he gazed out across the grounds, collecting his thoughts.
“You know,” he said, “Wyatt and Aunt Lou are always criticizing me about my office being off-limits to everyone. But that room you just came from is the true inner sanctum in this place. To the best of my knowledge, no one but you and Wyatt has set foot in there since the day of the crash. Right or wrong, that’s how Wyatt wants it. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a shrine, but it’s damned close. I’ve tried and tried to get him to pack up all of Krista’s things and let some new life return to that room, but he won’t hear of it. It’s his personal time machine, I guess.”
Gabby nodded. “To a lesser degree, I can understand his feelings. I have a box containing some of Jason’s things in my bedroom at home, and truthfully, if I walked into the room and saw someone handling them, I’d be upset, too.”
Ram again looked out across the ranch that he so loved. “You know,” he said, “death’s leftovers can be mixed blessings. The possessions that our loved ones leave behind can sometimes seem as alive as those who once owned them. Maybe that’s because they’re all that’s left to us. But sometimes those same keepsakes can become too coveted.”
Gabby nodded. “You’re right. Although Wyatt and I were the only two people in the room, it felt pretty crowded.”
“I know, dear,” Ram said quietly. “Believe me, I know.”
TWENTY
CELIA WARD SIPPED her iced coffee then languorously crossed one leg over the other. She turned and gave Gabby an inquisitive look.
“So tell me,” Celia said. “How are you and your cowboy getting along since your unbidden trek through the mansion?”
As she remembered accidentally violating Krista’s study, Gabby sighed. “Let me guess. An inquiring mind wants to know.”
From behind her sunglasses, Celia winked. “You bet!” she answered.
Before answering, Gabby looked across Celia’s well-tended lawn and flower garden. Butterflies hovered among the colorful blossoms. A squadron of wild Dutch parrots yammered noisily at each other as they careened through the air, gone as quickly as they had come. Before the garden lay Celia’s swimming pool, its turquoise water shimmering brightly beneath the hot Florida sun.
Gabby and Celia were wearing swimsuits and lying on loungers on Celia’s back patio. As was often the case, the two women were sharing a well-deserved Sunday afternoon away from Jefferson High. Gabby very much wanted to go for a swim, but she knew that wouldn’t happen until the ever curious Celia had gotten her answers.
Gabby sipped her iced tea then put it down alongside the remains of the crab salad she and Celia had shared for lunch. As she thought about Wyatt, she shook her head.
“I’m not sure how to answer you,” she said. “Despite what happened, I’m more attracted to him every time I see him. Sometimes it hurts just to be near him. But I have no idea what he thinks about me. Ever since that unfortunate moment in Krista’s study, he’s been distant.”
“I’m sorry, Gabby,” Celia said. Looking for solace from a female friend, Gabby had told Celia about the incident the same day it had happened. “From what you tell me, it must have been a very difficult moment.”
Another week had passed since that fateful afternoon, and the second month of the New Beginnings Program had begun. After eight more weeks, there would be little reason for Gabby and Trevor to visit the ranch. The grains of sand were slipping through the hourglass that she and Wyatt shared; and even faster now, it seemed, since that incident. To her dismay, she felt powerless to stop them.
As Gabby had told Celia, Wyatt remained standoffish. Gabby was not offended by it because she realized that had their roles been reversed, she would feel the same way. But she badly missed the fragile warmth that had once existed between them, and she desperately w
anted it back.
During dinner that first night, Ram had brazenly suggested that Gabby and Trevor stay and eat with them after every session. But Gabby feared that doing so would be too much, and so she and Trevor usually shared dinner with the Blaines only on Monday nights.
Despite Wyatt’s coolness toward her, she had come to love those precious times at the great table, the breeze rustling the silk curtains and Aunt Lou serving her wonderful food. Ram and Aunt Lou sometimes told stories from Wyatt’s youth. They were the only times Gabby saw Wyatt blush, and she found it endearing.
“And Trevor?” Celia asked. “How’s he doing with the New Beginnings Program?”
At last a topic had surfaced that Gabby could smile about. “I can already see a difference in him,” she answered. “He hasn’t totally abandoned James Dean, but it’s a start. He’s happier and more focused. He’s learning to barrel race, but by his own admission his progress is slow. I haven’t watched that because the thought of it makes me too nervous. Although Trevor doesn’t like the group-therapy sessions, I think they’re helping. Along with the horse assigned to him, he’s taking care of a pregnant mare named Sadie. Because of that, Trevor and I are usually the last guests to leave the ranch. Sometimes we stay for dinner.”
Gabby’s comment about dinner flashed brightly on Celia’s radar. “What was that last part?” she asked.
“You heard me,” Gabby answered.
“Despite what happened between you and Wyatt?”
“Yes,” Gabby answered. “Ram insists on it. He can be very persuasive, to say the least.”
Celia yanked her sunglasses down and shot Gabby a sly look. “Well, thank heaven for dear old Ram!” she exclaimed. “But it’s time to fess up, girlfriend,” she said simply. “What’s really going on with you and Wyatt?”
If Wishes Were Horses Page 16
