Blaze of Glory

by M. Garzon

  “So what’s your handicap now, anyway,” Dec asked, spearing a piece of broccoli.

  “I’m an eight,” Jaden said casually.

  My fork fell onto my plate with a clatter; at the same time, I felt my mouth drop open. Jaden gave me a startled look.

  “I wasn’t aware that would mean something to you,” he commented.

  “Of course it means something to me — I’m learning the game, aren’t I? I’ve been doing some-”

  “Research, right,” he finished for me with a small smile. “And what have you learned?”

  “Lots of things. Including the fact that the highest-ranked player in Canada has a handicap of six goals.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I’ve mostly been playing abroad. Maybe that causes some confusion, but now that I’m here...”

  “You’re the highest-ranked player in the country,” Dec finished, looking impressed.

  Well, that’s just great, I thought sourly. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more impossible to ignore him.

  * * *

  Kabir and Teri rode with us in Dec’s truck on Sunday, and Julia met us there. The facility, just north of Toronto, was easy to find, but parking was a mite harder. We circled amongst the Jaguars and Porsches for a few minutes before finding a spot.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen so many high-end cars in one place,” Seth said excitedly. “Did you see the Maserati, Sis?”

  “Probably,” I laughed. I wouldn’t recognize it, though.

  I was wearing a pretty, summery dress that Julia had lent me, but when we found her she took one look at me and towed me to the washrooms to put some make-up on.

  “Why didn’t you do it at home?” she scolded, “that’s why we bought it.”

  Fortunately my short hair didn’t require much styling, or doubtless she’d be re-doing that, too. When she was satisfied with my appearance we joined everyone at the table that Jaden had reserved for us under a large white tent beside the polo pitch. Stacey and her parents were already there, along with Gran and Aunt Paloma.

  “There he is,” Stacey exclaimed, jumping up.

  Jaden was winding his way between the tables, stopping occasionally to shake hands with various people. He was wearing a navy polo shirt with a white ‘3’ on it, along with the required white pants and brown boots. He looked stunning.

  When he got to us he wound his arm around Stacey.

  “Tell us, dear,” Gran said, “are you representing the Killean club?”

  Jaden shook his head. “No, I’m playing for a team I rode with last year, the Davenport Daemons. David Davenport is the patron, and he hires a couple of pros for every tournament.”

  I became aware of a familiar sound, it was getting louder but before I could identify it Jaden continued, “There he is now.”

  I swiveled around to follow his gaze as a helicopter landed in the adjoining field. All eyes in the spectator tent turned toward it as Summer Davenport and her father climbed out and headed our way.

  I didn’t want to watch, but it was as though I couldn’t help myself. An inexorable force drew my eyes to Summer as she approached Jaden. She started to put her arms around him; he kissed her cheek quickly and deftly stepped around her to shake hands with her father. David Davenport was older than Dec, his hair mostly grey, but he gave an impression of fitness and energy. Jaden introduced us all before the Davenports left to mingle.

  As he was turning to go Jaden said, “Oh, if anyone has questions about the game, ask Téa — she can probably answer you.” He faced me for the first time that day. I strove to keep my face expressionless as he scanned me briefly before wheeling abruptly and leaving the tent.

  Teri and Julia looked at me; I’d already shared the details of my evening at the art gallery with them.

  “Wow,” was all Julia said.

  It wasn’t until Jaden left that I realized I’d been digging my nails into my palms. I looked around the tent, trying to distract myself. The aura of wealth and privilege was unmistakeable. This was Jaden’s milieu, and he was clearly at home here. He had gone to private schools and played polo throughout high school. Even though we were members of the same family, we moved in very different social circles.

  “So what’s the big deal about Jaden being ranked ‘eight’?” Seth interrupted my train of thought.

  “Well, polo players are ranked on a scale of minus two to ten goals,” I started explaining, feeling a bit shy as everyone’s attention focused on me. “It’s called a handicap. But ninety percent of players are ranked between minus two and two goals, and most players go pro once they’ve reached a rank of three. Eight is actually very high.”

  As if to underscore my words, the announcer started to introduce the teams. The players rode forward one by one as their names and numbers were called, but when he got to Jaden the announcer deviated slightly.

  “In the number three position, we are very fortunate to welcome back to Canada one of our own. I know that many of you are looking forward to watching and learning from him this year. Please welcome back, our international star, Jaden Foster!”

  A rousing cheer went up, not only from the spectators but also the players on the field and the grooms on the sidelines. I scanned the grounds; people were genuinely excited at the prospect of seeing him. He truly was a star — I realized that I had never before appreciated the magnitude of his achievements. And polo wasn’t nearly as big a sport in Canada as it was in some other countries. I could only imagine the kind of reception he enjoyed there.

  The game started, and watching Jaden play was a revelation. I’d always sensed a certain fierceness in him, simmering just below the surface; now it exploded into action, and seeing it uncontained was awe-inspiring. His ferocity cut a swath through the opposition, and my heart alternately stuttered and surged as one seemingly impossible maneuver followed another. He leaned so far out of the saddle that I felt as though only my prayers were keeping him mounted, he rode everyone off the ball, made shots that defied the laws of physics, and generally created total havoc for the opposition. My heart hammered throughout the entire first chukker, so that I was relieved when the riders went to switch ponies. I needed a chance to catch my breath.

  I was somewhat calmer for the second chukker when, halfway through, a horse suddenly slipped, fell, and rolled right over her rider. Dec’s grip on my wrist was the only thing keeping me in the tent. The mare staggered to her feet soon afterward, but it took the rider considerably longer. Replacements were called in, the chukker resumed, and it was announced that neither horse nor rider was seriously injured. We breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  At halftime, the spectators poured onto the field for the customary divot-stomping. This involved searching out the clumps of grass that had been unearthed by the ponies’ rapid stops and starts and then toeing those clumps, known as divots, back into the ground. It was a nice break, and a chance to stretch our legs.

  The third chukker was almost without incident, except at one point I could have sworn I saw Jaden drop forward on Piba, clutching his right arm. The play was moving too fast for me to be sure, though, and he went on to take a savage swipe at the ball and score a goal, so I thought I was mistaken.

  We were nearing the end of the fourth chukker; the game was almost over. The ponies thundered to one end of the field, and my heart nearly stopped as some of them collided — I couldn’t tell if Kermit was one of them. Suddenly several mallets went up. A horn blew, and some of the players jumped off their ponies. One of the opposing team’s players was on the ground, not moving. Medics ran onto the field, but as it turned out he was quite gravely injured and play didn’t resume until after an ambulance had taken him away. The game was wrapped up quickly after that, with the Davenport Daemons winning by a considerable margin.

  We headed down to the stable area to see Jaden. He was standing by the trailer with two rather glamorous-looking girls and handed them a piece of paper just as we arrived. They seemed to leave reluctantly.

 
“Was that your autograph or your phone number?” Seth joked.

  “Both,” Jaden winked at him.

  I felt my teeth snap together. People were walking by, some patting him on the back as they passed.

  “So, what did you think of the game?” he asked us expansively.

  “You’re even better than the last time I saw you,” Dec said enthusiastically as he clapped him on the shoulder. “It was great to watch you play again.”

  “Yeah, I had no idea polo was so fast,” Seth said. I tried not to feel irritated at his slightly awed expression.

  Jaden’s eyes moved to my face. They were cautious, as usual these days. I crossed my arms and surveyed him narrowly.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure, I’m not taking any more crap from you about how reckless I am,” I said.

  He laughed — his real laugh, warm and carefree, and in an instant, I felt my defenses evaporate. He was so utterly irresistible in that moment. He started to reach for me and for a second I thought he was going to hug me as he would have done so naturally just two weeks before. Then he caught himself, and the cautious mask fell back into place. I felt the smile freeze on my face as a new tear further damaged my chest.

  * * *

  We saw Jaden again on Tuesday. It turned out I’d been right about seeing him clutch his arm — a massive bruise covered his biceps from shoulder to elbow. He’d gotten hit by the ball, which can reach speeds of one hundred and ten miles an hour. Dec shook his head and gave me a significant look.

  Later, I found myself briefly alone with Jaden in the tackroom.

  “Remember that time I was being cocky?” I asked him.

  “You’ll have to narrow it down a bit for me.”

  “When I said I didn’t fall off and challenged you to get me off my horse?”

  “Oh, that time. What about it?”

  “I was an idiot. Thanks for not taking me up on it.”

  He nodded. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Téa.” He said it softly, holding my gaze. I ripped myself away and went back to work, shaken. I was obviously reading way too much into his words.

  Eleven

  Early June brought the first authentically beautiful days of summer. My long term under house arrest was finally over, and I took advantage of my newfound freedom to go to the polo club and practice whenever I could. Mateo and Dan both helped me a lot, and under their tutelage, I began to see some improvement in my skills.

  Jaden was teaching a clinic at the club one morning, and I decided to head over there to practice. And to be near Jaden. As awkward as things were, I still preferred being near him to being away from him. Maybe I was turning into a masochist, I thought grimly as I rode onto the field. It was a perfect day, not a cloud in the sky, and though it would likely be hot later I was comfortable in my T-shirt for now.

  There were four students in the clinic, three men and one woman. I was practicing nearby, so I could watch discreetly, hoping to pick up some tips. After a while, though, I turned and watched more overtly. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing — I couldn’t believe the difference in Jaden. He cajoled, threatened, encouraged, or yelled at his students, as needed. But in every case, he pushed them; he got every last ounce of performance out of those players. He was as tough as Karen. This was in a different league from the coaching I’d been getting, and I soon wheeled Schweppes away. Did he not think I was worth teaching? Was I was so lacking in potential that he wouldn’t even expend the effort? I headed home, fuming.

  At the dinner table that night the talk turned to Schweppes.

  “He’s really coming along well,” I told Dec proudly, “even though it isn’t ideal for us to be learning together.” It was usually a good idea for either the rider or the horse to have experience in whatever discipline they are attempting.

  “Maybe you should let me ride him in our next practice,” Jaden suggested.

  I thought about it. Jaden had obviously done a great job schooling his own horses, and he knew a lot better than I did what was required of a polo pony. But he was also a more aggressive rider than I was — not mean, but more demanding. All of his aids were applied harder, something that Schweppes had hated when he was a school horse. I didn’t want Schweppes to have any negative experiences with polo so early in his training; I was worried that if he didn’t like Jaden’s riding it would put him off the game.

  “Thanks, Jaden, but I think it’s too soon for that. He’s just getting comfortable with me.”

  He leaned across the table toward me.

  “Téa, you know as well as I do that in order to get the best out of someone — human or horse — you sometimes have to push them out of their comfort zone.”

  I nodded, that was perfectly true. “You don’t seem to be applying that rule to me, though,” I pointed out.

  He looked at me suspiciously.

  “You’re way harder on your other students than you are with me,” I accused him, also leaning forward. I was still irked by my discovery, and it must have shown on my face.

  “I thought you just wanted to train that pony, not kill yourself,” he snapped back.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn to play as well as I can!” I raised my voice to match his.

  “Now, now,” Gran soothed.

  Jaden lowered his voice. “So now you’re angry because I’m not hard enough on you?” he asked, incredulous.

  “I just want you to treat me the same as your other students.”

  “Well, don’t worry,” he said ominously. “I’m done taking it easy on you.”

  * * *

  Jaden was true to his word. We hardly spoke during our ride to the club the next day, and once on the field, Jaden did all the talking. Only he was mostly yelling. He had me practice the different swings over and over, especially the full swing, which was still my weakest shot. He kept me moving all the time, until I was exhausted and my arm was shaking. I gritted my teeth and kept going; there was no way I was going to complain, not when he was finally taking me seriously.

  Thankfully Dan and Lucas came out on foot and asked if we’d be up for a little two-on-two game. We agreed, and while they went to collect their horses I dismounted and sat on the grass to rest, Schweppes grazing happily next to me. Jaden disappeared into the stable area. I felt a brief, sharp sadness that he didn’t stay with me, but I smothered it quickly. He returned only when Lucas and Dan did. I ended up paired with Jaden because I was the least experienced. Any team he played for was always unbalanced because his handicap was so high.

  The game was brutal. I started off tired, and the other players were all out of my league. Not that they didn’t make allowances. Jaden did pass me the ball frequently, though I suspected he could have won against the three of us without much effort.

  “Téa! Pay attention! That was an easy shot, I know you could’ve made that!” he yelled when I missed a second pass in a row. My temper flared; I shot up the field, rode Dan off the ball, and hit it. The surge of adrenaline that followed was a lifesaver and kept me fired up enough to get through the rest of the chukker. I was hugely relieved when it was over, and I’m sure Schweppes was, too — he was breathing hard and his neck was lathered.

  I had a quiet ride home, as Jaden stayed at the club. I couldn’t help thinking about the state of our relationship. It had only been three weeks since Stacey’s party. Before that, we’d been so close... okay, so our friendship had been tainted, on my side, by the attraction I couldn’t help feeling toward him, but the underlying connection was strong. Now it seemed as though we barely spoke unless we were arguing. I sighed; I didn’t know how to fix it. I did know, though, that I was going to improve at polo or die trying because there was no way I was getting yelled at like that for the rest of the summer.

  After dinner I went and sat on the porch steps, rotating my right shoulder, which was killing me, and trying to stretch out my arm. My wrist hurt, too. It was a quiet evening. I loved this time of year, with its lush floral and green smells, lo
ng days, and warm, fragrant nights. Schweppes and Starlight were in the small turnout paddock to my left and I watched them lean together, tails swishing against the emerging mosquitoes. They used to get turned out with Zac until Anne objected, and the three of them had been fast friends. I wondered if they missed hanging out with him, and decided they probably did. Horses have long memories.

  Jaden came out and sat at the other end of the step, two feet away from me.

  “Don’t you ever use the chairs?” He indicated the chairs on the porch.

  “Nah.” I shrugged, wincing slightly.

  “Does your shoulder hurt?”

  “No,” I lied.

  He didn’t look convinced. “It’s very common, in the beginning. You’ll get some forearm and wrist pain, too. You might want to try wearing a brace for a while.”

  “I’ll let you know if I need it,” I said, tilting my head slightly to look at him. That was a mistake. He was staring at me, his remarkable eyes intense, and once they caught mine I was trapped. I felt like a rabbit in front of a snake, and I stared back, immobilized. I don’t know how long we stayed that way; the sound of the screen door behind me broke his hold and I looked away quickly, relieved. My heart was beating as though I was back on the polo field, and I was rocked by confusing emotions. That afternoon my anger and determination had kept all other feelings at bay, but the look Jaden had just given me... dammit, get a grip, I told myself firmly. He was off-limits, and he had no interest in me. It wasn’t his fault that his presence threw me into complete disarray.

  “Skooch down,” Seth said behind me.

  I moved down a step, and he sat behind me and started rubbing my shoulders. I leaned into his hands gratefully — there was no point in lying to Seth, he always knew. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jaden smirk.

  “How’s the bad shoulder?” Seth asked.

  The smirk disappeared, replaced by a frown.

  “Do you have an injury you didn’t tell me about?” Jaden demanded.