by M. Garzon
BLAZE OF GLORY
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M. Garzon
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Petal Press Canada
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This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or a portion thereof, in any form. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. This is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, horses, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
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Cover Design by Christina Conway | Dazzle by Design
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3rd Edition May 2017
Copyright © 2011 M. Garzon
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0988001350
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For my brothers, L.G. and I.G.
Thanks for always being there.
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Acknowledgments
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My unending gratitude goes to the following:
My children, for giving mommy time to play with her make-believe friends.
Stéphanie Roy, osteopath extraordinaire and friend through the ages — if you hadn’t been my first fan, this story might never have seen the light of day.
My proofreaders: Stéphanie Garzon, Jennilyn Robbie, Sasha Malashenko, and Jean-Marc Miousse, for their priceless enthusiasm and input.
Club Polo Nacional, particularly Dan and Arlene, for being so welcoming and answering my many questions about the game of polo.
All the Inspiration Montessori moms, for your sympathetic ears, unfailing support, and childcare during time crunches (this means you, Lise!).
My mom, for being a great Oma.
Jack Habacon for the technical stuff.
A thousand thanks to Christina Conway of Dazzle by Design for your generosity, patience, and mad skills!
Our cover models:
Thea Lepore, polo pro JJ Humbert, and Kismet (owned by Dunelm Farm). Thanks also to Holly Hallett and Dunelm Farm for the horses, location, and for putting up with the photoshoot circus.
Lastly, my gratitude goes out to all horses, those wondrous creatures who inspire and uplift us.
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Contents
Prologue
Part One: Forbidden
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Part Two: Fruit
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
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Prologue
I squished my way through the water-soaked grass to the pasture. The sudden downpour had cooled the air, and I shivered slightly in my wet clothes. The worst of the storm seemed to be over, and when I reached the pasture fence I paused, debating whether I needed to bring the horses in. The rain had abated to a fine drizzle, and there hadn’t been any lightning or thunder since I’d left the barn. It was such a relief to escape the tense atmosphere there that I lingered, leaning on the fence and watching the dark wet patches creeping down the horses’ coats.
I didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right behind me. I knew whose they were without turning; only Jaden’s presence would raise the hairs on my body like that.
“Téa,” he said my name like a caress.
I was about to duck away, but he knew me too well — his hands shot out and gripped the fence board on either side of me, though he didn’t touch me, of course. He was so close now that I could feel the heat from his body searing the back of mine, but this heat made me shiver all the more.
“How long are you planning on not talking to me?” His voice was subdued.
I shrugged. I felt, rather than heard, his sigh.
“You’re angry with me.”
He was wrong about that. It wasn’t anger that was making me avoid him, it was self-preservation.
“I don’t blame you. I know I’ve made a mess of things. I came to give you a choice... I was planning to leave at the end of the season.” He paused, but my brain was already frozen. As though it couldn’t process the word ‘leave’. “But if you’d rather I left now, I’ll understand. I’ll find a spot for my horses closer to Toronto.”
My chest constricted painfully, and my breath started coming in sharp, raw gasps. Either way, he would be gone. My only option was whether to prolong my suffering. It was always the same impossible choice: the pain of his presence versus the torture of his absence. I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I could have spoken even if I’d wanted to.
“Let me know what you decide,” he continued quietly. He hesitated, then dropped his head close to mine; I felt the zing of current from my face down to my shoulder. He whispered his parting line in my ear.
“I miss you.”
I waited until his footsteps faded to surrender to the wracking sobs, and they shook me for a long time before I pulled myself together and went back to work.
Part One: Forbidden
One
Weekends were always busy.
I rushed out the door after a hasty breakfast and headed for the familiar weathered beige of the barn. It was a warm day for September, the sky intensely blue with only a few small puffy clouds. The most time-consuming parts of my weekends were the riding lessons I taught, although I also had horses to ride, a few for clients, and some of the barn’s own. Also on the weekends, my brother Seth and I did the evening feeding and the last check of the barn before lights-out at night. And then there was homework... I was starting grade eleven; the workload this year meant I’d probably have to study a bit more.
“Hey, shrimp,” Seth greeted me as I almost ran into the barn. He was sweeping the aisles, cleaning up after the morning feed. “Nice of you to finally drag yourself out of bed.”
You learn early that life isn’t fair when you grow up with a twin brother like mine. Seth had always been the sweet-tempered, beautiful one, while I was the scrawny, mercurial one. Things hadn’t changed much over the years. At sixteen, I was five foot two and a half — don’t forget the half — with a slight frame, average looks, and colored in boring monochrome: brown hair, brown eyes, and skin that tanned easily. By now, after a summer spent working outdoors, it was a smooth... well, brown. Seth, on the other hand, was blessed with shaggy light blond hair, clear blue eyes, and skin that seemed to alternate between red and white all summer without perceptibly darkening. Even worse, he was six feet tall. I hoped that he was done growing now, or his smugness would become unbearable.
“Hi, Téa!” a high voice piped up.
I smiled at the little girl skipping toward me. Eight-year-old Emma was the first student to arrive for my nine a.m. lesson.
“My dad came to watch me today!” Emma almost squeaked with excitement.
Her father was almost as blond as she was. “Hi,” he said, smiling, “Tia, right? We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“It’s Tay-a, actually,” I corrected as we shook hands.
Once my students were ready I led them out to the smaller ring, stifling a yawn. I enjoyed teaching, but the beginner lessons were a bit boring.
After getting them all mounted I asked them to walk and began correcting their positions.
“Push your heels down, Emma. Cassandra, remember to sit up straight. Sebastian, you’re looking good, just shorten your reins a bit, okay? Chip looks like he’s about to fall asleep,” I said. On hearing his name, the pony turned and ambled toward me, little Sebastian’s ineffectual pulling on the reins not diverting him in the slightest. He pushed his head against my chest, and I patted his dark brown neck for a minute.
“Okay, boy, time to get back to work.” I gave the pony a push, and he meandered willingly back to the track.
“Is everyone behaving themselves this morning?” Dec’s voice called out cheerfully. All four kids giggled and greeted him; my stepfather was very popular with our students and boarders. Blue, Dec’s Australian Cattle Dog, ran to me for a pat; they’d gone out to the hayfield early that morning — thankfully before I’d gotten up. Seth would be heading back with them later.
“How’s the haying?” I asked.
“Not bad. We should be done with the cutting by tomorrow.” Dec’s pale blue eyes, which contrasted starkly with his dark hair, squinted up at the sky. “Hopefully the weather will hold and we can get it baled this week. Oh, don’t forget that Jaden’s coming for dinner tonight. Gran’s coming to cook, so make sure you help her.”
I suppressed a groan as I turned my attention back to my students; I’d forgotten that Dec’s nephew was coming. I hadn’t done any homework yet, and today was Sunday. A dinner guest meant that I’d be losing sleep to get my homework done. Or, if I was being honest with myself, trying to finish it up during school tomorrow. I wrapped up the lesson with relief.
“Téa!”
I was hailed the minute I walked into the cool shade of the barn; Teri bounced up to me, looking both smug and secretive. She was my closest friend.
“Last week of September, right?” she said in a low voice.
“Shh! Are you trying to get me killed?” I hissed, but I grinned at her all the same. “Let’s talk about it later.”
Teri pulled her hair back and tied it in a ponytail. She had hair I’d kill for, the color of burnt caramel, falling in thick waves to her shoulders when it was down.
“Okay,” she said, “but we have a lot to organize.”
I hung out with her while she got her Appaloosa pony, Picasso, ready to ride.
“Hey, girls,” our friend Julia’s voice rang out.
“Hey, Jules,” we responded, and Teri added, “Yay, you can ride with me — I thought I was on my own today.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” I protested.
“No, but Blaze is out of Picasso’s league. At least Jules and I can set up one course to jump.”
The mention of my pride and joy made me smile; riding him was always the highlight of my day.
“So what’s new, Jules?” I asked.
She spoke over her shoulder as she went to retrieve Jasmine, her black mare.
“Well, I went on a date yesterday. Total train wreck!” She began recounting the horrors of her date while Teri and I listened, and occasionally snickered. Julia went on a lot of first dates, but few subsequent ones. She had very exacting standards, but she could afford to be picky, she was stunning. She was half Japanese and half Caucasian, but at five foot six, she was much taller than Teri or me, with a willowy physique that we tried hard not to envy. Her brown-black hair fell in a glossy curtain down her back and as heavy bangs in the front, but her eyes were her most striking feature — they were a stormy grey, thickly fringed in long black lashes. You couldn’t help but stare at Julia; it was really no wonder that her parents sent her to a private girls’ school.
After teaching my next lesson it was time to ride Blaze. I stepped into his stall and he turned to me right away, whickering a greeting. As always, I felt a warm swell of affection for him. I leaned my forehead against his and spent a few minutes just stroking his silky head and neck; he would stay that way for hours, never pulling away. Blaze was my horse. My mom had convinced Dec to buy him for me when I was thirteen, the year before she died. He’d been a yearling then but had shown incredible potential, and now as a five-year-old, he was more than living up to that promise. That wasn’t why I loved him so much, though. I would have adored him even if he couldn’t jump over a garden hose.
A small crowd had assembled in the aisle. Four of my students, plus Julia, Teri, and a couple of boarders — Jennifer and Stephanie — were staying to watch me ride. I was taking things slowly with Blaze, laying the groundwork for us to have a long, successful career together. I had only brought him to five shows this year, and at those five shows, he had won third place once... and first place every other time. So naturally, we had started attracting some attention, and he already had some die-hard fans in his home barn.
I cross-tied Blaze and started grooming him while multiple hands came to pat him hello. Blaze never minded the attention. In fact, he seemed to consider it his due. I couldn’t help admiring my Dutch Warmblood as I led him out of the barn; he was the most gorgeous light copper bay, and the sunlight danced red and gold on his glossy coat. All four of his legs were black from the knee down — his only white marking was the wide blaze down his face. His black mane and tail were so smooth and shiny you’d think he was hiding a flat-iron in his stall. All in all, he took my breath away. Even after four years, I could hardly believe he was mine.
I mounted easily; Blaze was sixteen-one hands high — not that big for a jumper, though big enough for me. After warming up in the large paddock, we started jumping a small gymnastic combination. It used to make me horribly self-conscious to ride in front of people at home, but I was getting used to it now, and it was nice to have help making changes to the jumps, rather than me having to dismount every time.
“Okay, baby, we’re going to trot over nice and quietly... don’t get excited,” I murmured to Blaze. He flicked his ears back and forth, listening. He liked it when I talked to him while I rode, so I usually did. Sometimes I even sang to him, though I was way too embarrassed to do that in front of an audience. Of humans, anyway.
We trotted in. Jump the large X, one canter stride, over the vertical, another canter stride, and over the oxer, which had a squarish shape since it consisted of two parallel poles. I stayed as quiet as possible, and reveled in the raw athleticism I felt under me. We went over it perfectly twice more, and then it was time to put the fences up.
“Could you raise them all a bit, please? Make the oxer about three foot six.”
Another few trips over the combination, and again it felt like Blaze was barely trying. Suddenly, I wanted to feel him really jump — I wanted to know at what point he’d have to expend an actual effort to get over.
“Ter, can you raise them again, and adjust the distances for cantering, please? Put the vertical at four feet and the oxer at four-six,” I said, trying to be casual. I could hear gasps from the watching crowd, but I ignored them, focusing on Blaze.
“Okay, baby, this one’s going to be a lot bigger.” I didn’t talk to him on our approach this time. He raised his head before the first fence — he had noticed the increased size. He popped over the X, took a carefully measured stride, bounded over the vertical, one more stride and I held my breath as he rocked back onto his hocks and gave an enormous leap over the oxer, landing handily and cantering away gaily as though he did it every day. A cheer went up as I slowed him to a walk, patting him joyfully over and over.
“Oh my God Téa, you should’ve seen him, he looked unbelievable!” Julia yelled.
“Yeah, his knees were around his ears,” Teri added, grinning widely.
“We need a camera next time,” someone added to the happy chatter. I walked Blaze around on a loose rein; I couldn’t get the huge grin off my face.
“Hey, who’s that?” Teri asked suddenly.
I followed her gaze to a tall, lean figure leaning with one hand against a black SUV.
“Wow, is that an Armani suit?” Julia asked, impres
sed. I snickered; trust Julia to recognize a label at that distance. Though it did look like a nice suit, light grey and sleek. As I watched, the figure took off the jacket and tossed it into the car before strolling over to the fence.
“Hi, Téa.” He smiled, a flash of white in a tanned, angular face.
“Jaden!” I exclaimed, suddenly recognizing him. “Welcome back.”
“Thanks. Nice riding, by the way. That’s some horse.” His eyes traveled over Blaze appreciatively.
I was about to thank him when I realized what his presence meant.
“Oh no,” I groaned, “You’re here... which means I’m late. I’m supposed to be helping Gran with dinner.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll give her a hand.” He headed for the house, covering the ground quickly with a long-legged, athletic stride.
An excited babble arose in his wake.
“Who was that?” Julia demanded.
I continued walking Blaze as I answered.
“Um, that’s my cousin, Jaden.” It didn’t feel quite natural to call him that, since I barely knew him. We’d only seen each other a few times as kids, and lately, he’d been playing polo in other countries. Seth and I heard about him often, though, because he was Dec’s favorite — and only — nephew.
“You didn’t tell us your cousin was gorgeous,” Teri said accusingly. “You’ve been holding out on us!”
“Give me a break! I haven’t seen the guy in three years.” I laughed. “Now, can you get a handle on your hormones long enough to give me hand? I’ve got to get Blaze cleaned up quick or I’m in trouble.”
As soon as Blaze was taken care of, I dashed into the house and straight to the kitchen. Gran was at the stove, her white hair escaping from its usual bun as she turned to smile at me. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She smelled like talcum powder.
“Sorry I’m late, though it looks as if you’ve found a far more competent helper than me,” I commented.
Jaden was chopping vegetables with a speed that would have left me short a fingertip or two, the sleeves of his charcoal grey shirt rolled up to his elbows. He shot me a grin.
