Fool's Gold

by Sarah Madison

  “Not exactly,” Jake said. “I did have a hard fall though. A couple of months ago. It seems like the vertigo started then. But it wasn’t this bad, I swear.” A shadow crossed Jake’s face, and Donald realized he probably wasn’t being entirely honest.

  “There you are, then.” The doctor beamed as though pleased to have his diagnosis confirmed.

  “What’s my prognosis?” Jake stared at the doctor with an intensity that should have made him squirm, but the doctor seemed oblivious.

  “It will usually resolve on its own in a few weeks to months. If it doesn’t you can have a surgical procedure to block the portion of the inner ear causing problems.”

  “Couldn’t that result in permanent balance issues?” Evans asked. He had his phone out and was tapping away furiously as he spoke.

  The doctor shrugged again. “That’s one of the risks. It’s generally successful, however.”

  Jake shot a glance at Evans, but Evans was focused on his phone. Jake looked up at Donald instead, his expression bleak. Donald wanted to walk over and give his son a hug, but he didn’t know how. Everything Jake had worked so hard for was threatened once again. The likelihood of making the team this year was looking slim and even his future as an event rider was at stake.

  Evans looked up from his phone, his face alight with triumph. “What about the Epley maneuver? Can you do that?”

  “What’s that?” Donald asked even as the doctor rolled his eyes.

  “Everyone with Google is an expert these days.” The doctor pasted a smile on his face with obvious effort. “No, I don’t do that particular procedure. You might find a chiropractor or osteopath willing to give it a shot. It’s kind of silly, if you ask me.” The doctor faced Donald. “The procedure is a series of rotational movements of the patient’s head to try and trap the dislodged crystal in a portion of the vestibule where it can’t cause problems and can more easily be reabsorbed. Like one of those games where you roll the ball along a tilting platform and try to place it in a specific hole.” He flicked his glance back at Evans. “You can try it if you like; it certainly can’t do any harm. As to whether or not it will help, only time will tell. In the meantime, the MRI will rule out any more serious problems.”

  The doctor gave a short nod and left the room.

  “It doesn’t sound terrible,” Donald said. From everyone’s gloomy faces, he’d have thought Jake had been diagnosed with cancer. It wasn’t that bad. Whatever happened, Jake could survive this.

  Jake sank back into the pillow on his bed and closed his eyes. When Evans squeezed his shoulder, Jake didn’t respond.

  “We’ll let you rest. I’ve got to check on the horses, and then we’ll find out what the MRI says. In the meantime, don’t worry.” Evans touched Jake again, but Jake didn’t react. Evans narrowed his eyes and tipped his head toward the door, indicating Donald should follow him out of the room.

  Donald let Evans lead him down the hallway into an empty waiting area. It struck him then that the cane was nowhere in sight, and he wondered if Evans had forgotten it on the course. Come to think of it, though, Evans hadn’t been using it as much lately.

  Evans went straight for the coffeemaker and poured himself a mug. Donald waved off his offer to fix a second cup. Evans added a packet of sugar to his mug and took it over to the window, staring out at the parking lot as he sipped his coffee.

  “We’ll get through this,” he said at last, still looking out the window. “I’ve been on the phone with his massage therapist, Rowan. She says that his neck muscles could be part of the problem. Apparently they’ve been really tight and they can impinge on the second cranial nerve, which innervates the inner ear. She was the one who suggested the Epley maneuver. Obviously, this idiot here doesn’t believe in alternative medicine, even when it is an accepted procedure by the bulk of the medical community. Either way, this is just a temporary setback.”

  “You can’t know that. Why are we taking advice from a masseuse anyway? You heard the doctor. This could be permanent. At the very least, it could impact Jake long enough to put him out of the running for the Games.”

  The look Evans shot him could have melted steel. “She’s not a masseuse, she’s a massage therapist. This is her area of expertise. The Epley maneuver has a high success rate.”

  “That we won’t know works until he rides again over fences. What if it strikes him again in the middle of a course? The risk isn’t worth it.”

  Evans wheeled away from the window to face him, a snarl in his voice. “It’s not your decision to make.”

  “It can be,” Donald said. “The majority of the horses are mine. I provide the funding. If I say no—”

  “You can kiss any relationship with your son good-bye. When are you going to learn that you can’t hold on to him with money?”

  “I resent your implica—”

  “Oh, stuff it.”

  Donald lifted his chin and glared. No one spoke to him like that.

  Evans, however, apparently hadn’t gotten that memo.

  “Jake is a grown man. If you cut him off, as you’ve threatened to do again and again over the last decade or so, he’ll just move ahead on his own. He’ll find another sponsor; he’ll move to another barn. And you’ll lose him entirely. Is that what you want?” The look Evans gave him was almost pitying. “You keep waving that card around. Sooner or later you have to play it or fold.”

  “I only want to keep him safe.”

  “Admirable, but you can’t stop him from doing something he really wants to do. Not without irreparably harming your relationship with him. Have you even thought about how devastated Jake is right now? He thinks his riding career is over. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

  Donald saw the passion blazing in Evans’s eyes and felt unaccustomedly ashamed. Evans must have known that day when Donald had confronted him that his days of riding competitively were over, and Donald had just ignored his pain and twisted the situation to his own gain. The last few weeks in Jake’s company had been the best Donald could remember in a long time, and he owed them in part to Evans.

  “Is it over?” Donald asked.

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Evans ground out.

  “Are you sleeping with my son?”

  Donald had no idea what prompted him to ask that question. That hadn’t been part of the deal he’d made with Evans after Rolex. He’d wanted to make it a condition of moving forward at the time, just as he’d done eight years earlier, but he’d seen Jake’s determination to walk, and he’d known he couldn’t ask Jake to choose between him and Evans.

  For some reason, he had to know now though.

  Evans looked as though someone had snuck up on him and smacked him in the face with a two-by-four. Blinking several times, as though he couldn’t believe Donald’s temerity, he said, “No. Not since…. Not that it’s any of your business.” Evans sputtered in helpless anger.

  “Not since I came back into the picture. Why is that, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask your son.” The look Evans fired off at him suggested he’d like to be present, should that ever happen. There was a sly twist to his lips for a moment before his eyes narrowed. “It’s not something we’ve talked about. He’s got a lot going on right now, and I have no intention of distracting him from his goals.”

  “Admirable.” Donald deliberately echoed Evans. “You’re telling me all your interest on Jake’s behalf is completely altruistic? That you’re getting nothing out of this at all?”

  Evans lowered his head and glared like a bull about to charge. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, and frankly, I’m not sure I want to. Suffice to say that when you love someone, it’s not always about sex. Sure, that’s part of it, most of the time, but there are times when one or the other partner has enough going on that sex isn’t a priority. It’s not the end-all and be-all of a relationship. Not when you love someone.”

  The words Evans spoke were like
a glove struck across the face, a challenge to his honor, spitting on everything he believed in.

  Yet he knew deep down, Evans had the right of it. Worse, he’d been wrong about Evans. So wrong.

  That didn’t bear thinking about.

  “So now what?”

  Evans flashed him a sharp look, obviously surprised at being consulted. “Jake is out of this competition. I’ve made arrangements for the horses to be shipped back home. The Angels will go with them. We’ll see what the MRI results have to say, and then I’ll drive Jake back tomorrow. Rowan will see him when we get back, and she’s going to get us in with a chiropractor. Then we’ll see.”

  “Do you think the MRI will show anything?”

  “No.” Evans spoke with such utter confidence that Donald envied him. His eyes glittered with belligerence, defying Donald to disagree with him.

  “I’ll stay here until we get the MRI results back. I presume then Jake will be released and we can all return to the hotel together. I’ll head back when the two of you leave in the morning.” It wasn’t much, but it was the only form of support Donald had.

  Evans merely nodded, shoulders slumping with sudden weariness.

  “We’re going to be here a while,” Donald said. “You should get something to eat.”

  “Maybe later.” Evans took a deep swallow of coffee. Donald didn’t feel much like eating either, particularly hospital food, but he knew from past experience the act of going down to the cafeteria killed time in a way that numbing one’s brain by watching television didn’t. Chances were he’d have to resort to television as well at some point during the long evening ahead of them. “I’m going to go grab some food from the cafeteria. Shall I bring back something for you?”

  Evans lifted an eyebrow. “No, thanks. I’ll go later or just get something from one of the vending machines if I get desperate.” He winced. “Not that I’d have to be desperate to take you up on your offer. I mean, oh, never mind.” He waved Donald off.

  “I know what you meant. No offense taken.”

  Try as he might to stretch out the time it took to eat in the cafeteria, even with lingering over an abandoned newspaper, in less than thirty minutes, Donald was finished with his meal. He was on his way back to Jake’s room when he caught sight of horses galloping a cross-country course on a television in one of the small waiting areas. An image of Jake, smiling from underneath a helmet, flashed on the screen, and Donald stepped into the room to see what the news anchor had to say.

  “What everyone is talking about today, Kitty,”—the sports announcer said to the news anchor—“is the extraordinary event that took place at Jersey Fresh today. You may not know this, but the Jersey Fresh Three-Day Event is one of the selection trials for the U.S. Equestrian Team in preparation for the Summer Games in Rio.” The camera cut away from the sportscaster’s face and revealed footage of Jake and Pegasus coming out of the start box. “One of the projected hopefuls was Jake Stanford, whose last run at the Olympics was shattered when a trailer accident resulted in the death of his two competition horses. Here we see Stanford making a strong showing with his current horse, Pegasus.”

  The camera switched viewpoints and focused on Jake rounding a turn to approach an impossibly huge jump that looked more like a picnic table than a fence. The look on Jake’s face electrified Donald. Fierce concentration in the last three strides to lift off and then a beaming smile as they landed on the other side.

  “Yes! You go, girl!” Jake’s encouragement was clearly audible on camera. The horse flicked her ears at his words and dug deep, springing forward at a gallop toward the next element.

  The camera showed the sportscaster leaning in with a serious expression. “Inexplicably, just before the finish line, we get this.”

  The next clip rolled, this time zeroing in on the jump Donald hadn’t seen, the one where Jake came down on the bay mare’s neck and grabbed at her mane, only to push himself upright again. Again, the viewpoint shifted, this time to the next element. Jake swayed in the saddle and clutched wildly at the pommel. Pegasus sensed something was wrong, and her head came up even as she slowed to a canter. Jake flattened his lips and gathered up the reins that had gone slack, bringing down the crop on her hindquarters. She tossed her head and jumped forward, but shortly after broke gait and dropped first into a trot, then a walk as Jake slewed to one side and clung on desperately.

  Pegasus came to a halt and turned her head inquiringly to look at Jake. He tried to sit up again but tumbled out of the saddle. He rolled with the fall, coming to lie on his back. Carefully, the mare lowered her head and touched him.

  The camera shifted back to the announcer. “Stanford was taken to a local hospital and is currently undergoing tests. No word yet on his condition, though it is reported that he was showing signs of dizziness. The eventing community has expressed concern for his well-being and best wishes that he get back to competition soon. A disappointing day for an Olympic hopeful, Kitty.” The sportscaster smiled sadly at his co-anchor.

  “Oh, that horse,” Kitty exclaimed. “He was magnificent. Did you see how worried he was?”

  “Actually, she’s a mare, Kitty. But yes, magnificent. Proof that horse and rider are truly a team. Meanwhile, in high-school baseball, heading into the playoffs….”

  Donald continued on down the corridor, only to stop when he heard someone mention Jake Stanford. Inside a patient’s room, he overheard another anchor discussing the incident at Jersey Fresh. This time, the photo the reporter used showed Jake smiling at one of his horses, a blue ribbon hanging from its bridle. On screen, the announcer said, “This next bit of footage is what everyone is talking about right now. Someone captured it with their cell phone and uploaded it to Youtube, where it has become viral.”

  Jake needed to see this.

  Donald hurried to Jake’s room, only to stop short at the sound of voices on the other side of the partitioned area.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.” Jake sounded so defeated.

  Donald thought about retreating, to reenter while making more noise, but Evans continued talking.

  “Yes, I do. I’m your coach. Everything I say is right. You should have told me about the vertigo though. More than just that dizzy spell you mentioned once.”

  There was a rustle of fabric, and then Jake said, “I honestly didn’t think anything of it. Maybe once or twice a little head rush if I sat up or bent over too quickly. Always when I was really tired. What if it isn’t okay? I don’t know how to do anything else. I’ve given my whole life to this.”

  “I know.” Evans was barely audible.

  “This is what it was like for you, wasn’t it? When you realized it was over.”

  “Oh yes.” Mild sarcasm was evident in Evans’s voice. “Except, you know, for the part where I was in excruciating pain and didn’t know if I was going to be able to walk again.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m a selfish bastard, aren’t I?”

  As tempting as it was to burst in on them and tell Jake he was no such thing, Donald felt trapped. He knew he should leave and pretend he hadn’t heard anything, but he couldn’t seem to move.

  “No, you’re not. Look, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had one goal, one dream in mind: Olympic gold. You’ve devoted your entire life to achieving that. Not everyone can make those kinds of sacrifices. Most people don’t even have the foggiest idea what that entails. You’ve worked your ass off, and now it looks like that goal is being threatened. Again. You have every right to be upset.” The bed creaked. “But even if for some odd reason we can’t kick this—and I know that we will kick it—it’s not the end of the world. No, hear me out. You’re still a name in the sport. You can capitalize on that. Go into training.”

  “Yeah, right.” Jake sounded muffled. “Because the world needs more horse trainers. You really think there’s enough business to support you, me, and Tom?”

  “It will if we need it to. It will if that’s what you w
ant. Especially if we start breeding our own horses for sale. We’ll make it work, Jake.”

  Donald leaned sideways to peer through a gap in the curtain. Evans was perched on the side of the bed, holding Jake in his arms. Jake’s head was pressed up against Evans’s shoulder, and Evans was stroking his hair.

  Donald caught his breath when Jake lifted his head to look Evans in the eye. “I will never forgive myself for not being there for you after the accident.”

  “Well, that’s just silly, because I forgave you a long time ago.” Evans spoke lightly. “There’s nothing to forgive, you idiot. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Fine.” Jake’s voice took on a hard edge. “Then I will never forgive my father for manipulating us like that.”

  Evans took Jake by the hand, threading their fingers together. “Yes, you will. You should, at any rate. It was a long time ago, and besides, he did it because he loves you. Love can make people do stupid things sometimes.”

  “Yeah, it can.” Jake tugged Evans down for a kiss.

  It should have repulsed him. Donald should have charged in, grabbed Evans by the collar, and hauled him off his son’s bed. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away precisely because he wasn’t sickened by what he saw. There was his son, kissing another man with so much tender passion that it suddenly seemed impossible Jake could ever be with anyone else. Who was he to deny Jake this kind of love? Were Darcy here, she would have told him in no uncertain terms that a love this strong could not be denied. In his heart of hearts, he knew this to be true, almost as if she’d spoken to him.

  Shaken, Donald carefully backed toward the open door. When he reached it, he pushed it fully open to thump against the wall and came briskly toward the partition, speaking well before he was in sight. “Jake? Evans? Have you seen the news?”

  When he rounded the curtain, Evans was standing next to the bed. Jake was sitting up, gripping the side rails as if for balance.