Oddly enough, Jamie was probably the only person who really did understand what Myra had gone through. Jamie’s sister hadn’t committed suicide, but she’d pursued a dangerous life of addiction that had culminated with her death in a car crash. Myra knew Jamie had been left with memories of their last fight, as well as her injured niece Anna. They’d found a place of healing and love here at Kate’s barn, but the scars never faded completely. Jamie and Kate had just started dating when Myra had lost Jeffrey, and Jamie had offered quiet and steadfast support without forcing Myra to rehash her story or rush through her grief. The shared experience had helped the two very different women establish an unexpected friendship.
“I see part of him in each of the riders,” she said. She was still feeling a connection with Jamie because of their accomplishments in the lesson, and somehow that made it easier to talk about the emotions she’d been keeping locked inside. “Every time I celebrate a step forward for one of them, I wish I had been able to help him the same way. I swing back and forth between happiness and mourning so often I’m wrung out after only an hour with them.”
“And it’s even more intense when you add attraction to the mood swings. I know that firsthand.”
“How did you…” Myra halted and Dragon stopped as well without any cues from Jamie.
“Kate told me,” Jamie said with a fond smile. “She’s been scheming.”
“Tell her to stop.” Myra’s voice held more force than she’d intended. “I might admire qualities in Ainslee, but I won’t take a chance on anything more than a student-teacher relationship.”
“Why not? You’re all flushed and pissed, so you must really like her.”
Myra fumed silently for a moment, until she was sure she could speak without stammering. She wanted to vehemently deny any desire for Ainslee, but her voice and apparently her face would prove her a liar. She opted instead for honesty. “I can’t go through losing someone like I lost Jeffrey. Never again. Ainslee seems so strong at times, but then she’s as fragile as a stunned bird that just smacked into a window she didn’t see coming. She doesn’t know who she is anymore, and I can’t…”
She stumbled to a halt after her spate of truth, and Jamie finished the thought for her. “You can’t invest your heart without being sure she’s here to stay.”
“Exactly.”
“Have you done a risk assessment? Have you told her about Jeffrey and asked her whether she can identify with what he did?”
Myra gave a bitter laugh. Leave it to Jamie to reduce love to numbers. Love? No—attraction. “Do you have a specific percentage of certainty you recommend?”
Jamie shrugged. “Sixty-three. If a proposal has a feasibility score of sixty-three percent or more, according to my personal scale, then I’ll recommend my bosses invest in it.”
Myra shook her head in disbelief. “What was Kate’s score?”
A slow smile spread across Jamie’s face, so full of love that Myra had to look away from the brightness of it. “Much lower,” she said. “But it could have been zero percent, and I’d still have taken a chance on her. On us.”
Myra stared at her hand where it rested on Dragon’s neck. She wished she could be as brave where her heart was concerned, but the risk of loss seemed much too high. Intact and lonely had to be better than being shattered by love.
Chapter Nine
Myra set a bowl of apple and carrot slices on the table next to a bag of chips. She fanned out a pile of green paper napkins and fussed with the arrangement of a tray of hoagies. The treats for humans and horses were in the shade of the barn’s awning, and a stainless steel water tub full of ice and drinks sat next to it.
Myra looked around, searching for something else to occupy her time until the students arrived, but there was nothing more to do. She and Kate had hosted countless end-of-session parties and they had the routine down to a science. Food, extra volunteers so some of the guests could ride, and a lesson plan consisting of mostly games and fun activities.
She perched on the edge of a large wooden planter brimming with pink, white, and red geraniums. She had more to celebrate than usual this time. Not only had her three students shown considerable growth over the past eight weeks, but she’d also gotten through her first military riding program without succumbing to the pain of her memories. Even though Jeffrey had been on her mind, she had felt comfort in the belief that she was giving his memory meaning as she helped other soldiers through the transition back to life at home.
Ainslee was a different matter altogether. She’d burrowed into Myra’s life in a wholly unexpected way. Proud, yet vulnerable. Bright and sharp, yet dimmed—hopefully temporarily—by her wounded leg and soul. At times, Myra had wanted to speed the weeks along and reach the respite after the program’s end, but sometimes she had wanted to hold on to certain moments forever.
“Everything looks great,” Kate said. She made room on the table for a box of doughnuts and then sat next to Myra. “This program was even more of a hit than I expected, thanks to you. We already have a waiting list for every class.”
“Any repeats from this group?” Myra asked with what she hoped was a casual air. She and Kate had already made plans to expand the program over the summer session, when Myra was free from her high school obligations. She’d have three beginner classes and one for intermediate riders. She’d already started the lesson plans for that one, and she’d pictured Ainslee doing every stretching and strengthening exercise she added to her list.
Kate bumped her shoulder into Myra’s. “Blake and Drew are both signed up for the summer. Ainslee hasn’t sent her form yet, and I don’t know if she’s planning to continue. I’m sorry.”
Myra shrugged. After all the turmoil she’d felt when around Ainslee, she should be heaving a sigh of relief. Instead she felt empty inside. Would she ever see Ainslee again if she didn’t come to the barn for lessons? Hadn’t Ainslee noticed how much she’d improved in bearing and balance since she’d been riding here? Didn’t she want to improve? “No big deal,” she said, keeping her unanswerable questions to herself. “Two out of three is a good return rate.”
“It is.” Kate looked at her with those mossy green, knowing eyes. “And you still have today to talk Ainslee into coming back, too.”
“It’s her choice,” Myra said. She felt a confusing mix of hurt and resignation. She stood up. “They’ll be here soon, so I’ll make sure the volunteers know the order of events for the day.”
“I’ll get the tack ready.” Kate rose as well and put her hand on Myra’s shoulder. “You should be proud of what you accomplished here, Myra. I know Jeffrey would be.” She squeezed Myra’s shoulder and walked into the barn.
Myra wasn’t sure how she felt. Luckily, the time before the students arrived was busy with preparations for the lesson and party. She had just finished hiding the last set of stickers for the scavenger hunt when Blake and his family drove into the lot. Ainslee and Drew weren’t far behind.
Myra welcomed the group which included Drew’s parents and girlfriend, and Sasha, who had been driving Ainslee to and from lessons. She stood back and watched as the students groomed their horses. They chatted with each other and with the guests and volunteers, laughing and getting ready for the lesson with minimal help. She thought back to their first day at Cedar Grove, when they’d stood in distant and passive silence during their intro lesson. Hesitation and recalcitrance had been replaced by friendships and confidence around the animals.
“Remember the first time you did that?” Myra gave in to her clamoring need and walked over to Ainslee. She was balancing Deacon’s hoof on her right knee while she cleaned it with a metal pick.
Ainslee laughed—a more and more frequent occurrence. “I seem to remember getting into all sorts of trouble with this hoof pick.”
She gently lowered Deacon’s hoof to the ground and straightened up. Myra handed her a fluffy white saddle pad and Ainslee settled it on Deacon’s back.
“You did fine once you starte
d using it for its intended purpose and not like a barroom dart,” Myra said. She stepped back so Ainslee could reach her saddle. She wanted to stay beside her, to keep talking about the class. Their teasing only underscored how far Ainslee had come over the past weeks. But Chris called out a question about Spot’s bridle, and soon Myra was immersed in the group.
The riders’ moods were significantly lighter than they’d been on their first day. Even though Myra always planned a series of mounted games at the end of each session—and she hadn’t yet met a group of adults that didn’t have as much fun as children did—she’d figured this program would be different. When she’d met these three students, she’d thought they were much too serious to play, but she’d been wrong.
“Told you so,” Kate said when she joined Myra in the center of the ring after a heated egg-and-spoon race. She handed Drew his ribbon with a flourish and they slowly followed the riders to the door of the arena. “What a blast. I’ve never laughed so much during a game day.”
Myra’s face was sore from grinning so much. Seeing the riders and their guests having so much lighthearted fun had made the effort of planning and implementing the program totally worthwhile. She wanted to bask in the success of the day, but she had one more event planned. She assigned volunteers to help Blake’s kids with their ponies, and the rest were sent to various hiding spots around the barn to hand out clues for the scavenger hunt.
Myra jogged to her spot behind the hay barn. She sat on the roll top, a large rounded wooden jump that was covered with plastic grass. She and Kate hauled the heavy beast to the outdoor arena when they hosted horse shows at the barn, but today it sat in its usual place behind the tractor and the pile of shavings. Myra turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes, waiting for someone to figure out her clue and come find her.
“Ha!” Ainslee’s triumphant shout startled her. “Look for grass that doesn’t grow. It hides away and comes out for shows. You’re quite the poet.”
“You didn’t sign up for another session,” Myra said. She hadn’t intended to blurt it out like that, with a hint of hurt in her voice, but she spoke before she could stop herself. She was supposed to put a sticker next to the clue and send Ainslee off to find the next hider, but if she didn’t take advantage of this moment of privacy, Ainslee would leave and Myra would never have another chance to ask. “I just…I was wondering why.”
“Can I dismount for a few minutes?” Myra held Deacon and helped Ainslee slide to the ground. Her hands lingered on Ainslee’s hips to help her balance, and Ainslee didn’t push her away. Myra sighed. The touch calmed her, even though her mind and heart had been in turmoil since Kate told her Ainslee wouldn’t be returning.
Ainslee turned out of Myra’s hands. She rested her arm along Deacon’s back and looked at Myra. “I’m not sure. I was planning to, because I really did get a lot out of this experience. I was very self-focused when I came here. Angry and in pain. You helped me get my mind off myself and my situation for a while, to pay attention to the people and animals around me. I also was scared, and not used to feeling that way. I still don’t understand why I was trying so hard to protect this leg when I’d already lost my real one.” She tapped the toe of her prosthesis against the ground.
“You made us take riding seriously. You never assured us we’d be perfectly safe, you always reminded us that being around and on horses can be risky. I think I needed to be pushed past my new comfort zone. To take those risks again.”
“Then why won’t you continue?” Myra was grateful for Ainslee’s words, but sad, too. There was something of good-bye in them.
“It’s complicated,” Ainslee said.
“Try me.” Myra started in surprise as Ainslee—instead of answering—stepped forward and kissed her. Myra felt her heart thud as their lips pressed together without moving for a moment until the sensation of a deep exhale released the passion she had been keeping inside. Myra slid one hand along the nape of Ainslee’s neck, tangled it in her dark hair, and curved the other over Ainslee’s hip, pulling her closer. She nibbled gently on Ainslee’s full lower lip and gasped in pleasure when Ainslee opened to her and met her tongue with her own.
Myra’s world exploded into textures. The suede-soft flannel under her hand and the scratch of Ainslee’s fingers where they twisted in Myra’s T-shirt. The rasping brush of Ainslee’s tongue and the mesmerizing suppleness of her satin lips. Myra’s skin was electric with the feel of Ainslee in her arms. Jeans—she’d felt jeans before, nearly every day of her life. But the resistance of fabric where their hips rubbed together, the small catch of rivets and buttons, nearly drove Myra to orgasm.
Only the awareness seeping into her consciousness of other people nearby—and possibly headed right toward them—kept Myra from ripping off Ainslee’s pants right there. She put a few millimeters of space between them, staying close enough to feel the caress of Ainslee’s gasping breath against her face.
“Someone’s coming,” Ainslee said. The sound of laughter and hoofbeats pushed them apart like a tangible force.
Vanessa and Blake’s daughter Heidi came around the corner of the hay barn just as Myra was helping Ainslee climb onto Deacon using the rolltop as a mounting block. She kept her hand on Ainslee’s knee. Myra already felt a sense of loss with only the tenuous contact between them. She had to prolong it somehow, to keep a connection until she decided what she’d do about this attraction that had quickly grown into full-blown lust. “Will you have breakfast with me Saturday? Angel’s Bagels at eight?”
Ainslee nodded, her face flushed and her eyes bright with the same desire Myra knew was shining from her own. She gave Ainslee’s knee one last rub, and then turned away.
Chapter Ten
Early Saturday morning, Myra sat at a gray plastic table, enveloped in the scent of yeast and onions, and doodled on a paper napkin while she waited. She’d been nervous about this morning’s meeting, but still she was able to immerse herself in her scrawled notes. A tap on the plate-glass window next to her made her jump, and she felt her face stretch into an automatic smile when she saw Ainslee on the sidewalk.
Ainslee came into the deli and over to Myra’s table. Her limp seemed less noticeable, and Myra thought the sound of her right leg was more rhythmic than it had been when they first met. Or was she being overly optimistic and seeing progress where there really wasn’t much?
“Thanks for meeting me here,” Myra said. After sharing such a powerful kiss, Myra had decided to try the Jamie approach and give Ainslee a chance to either alleviate or confirm her worst fears. Maybe she’d be comfortable giving in to her interest in Ainslee if she had an honest conversation with her. She didn’t have much choice—her desire was growing too strong to be ignored, and her common sense seemed to be diminishing in proportion. The reality of Ainslee’s kiss had far surpassed even Myra’s fantasies.
“I’m glad you asked me,” Ainslee said. She sat down and looked around. “I haven’t been here before, but it smells wonderful.”
“You won’t be disappointed in the taste, either,” Myra said. Ainslee raised her eyebrows and laughed at the words, and Myra felt her face heat. She stood up and motioned at the counter. “What would you like?”
“What would I like, or what should I order off the menu?” Ainslee asked with a devilish smile. She scanned the chalkboard menu quickly. “A blueberry bagel with cream cheese and a white chocolate mocha, please.”
“Wow,” Myra said with a grimace. “Sweet tooth?”
“Guilty.” Ainslee shifted and rested her left heel on the rung of her chair.
“What were you writing so intently when I came to the window?” Ainslee asked after Myra had placed their order.
“Oh, nothing. Just scribbling.”
Ainslee leaned forward. “Come on, you can tell me. Were you writing your memoirs? Haiku? The complete list of Myra’s Barn Rules?”
Myra fished the crumpled napkin out of her pocket and tossed it at Ainslee’s head. “None of the above. I was b
alancing chemical equations.”
“For your high school classes?” Ainslee unfurled the napkin and smoothed it out on the table top. She pointed at one of the compounds. “What’s this one?”
“Phosphorous pentachloride. And no, it’s not for class, it’s just a habit of mine.” Myra usually brushed off questions about her game of equations, but she wanted to be completely honest with Ainslee today, and this was as good a way as any to start.
“For fun? Chemistry?”
Myra laughed at Ainslee’s pained expression. “I take it you didn’t enjoy chemistry classes in school. I find it comforting, I suppose. The beauty of these equations reminds me that the universe is orderly, even if it doesn’t seem like it in my life.”
“Huh,” Ainslee said with a brief nod. She folded the napkin carefully and put it in the pocket of her jeans. “I can see how that would be soothing. A little strange, though.”
Myra’s name was called, and she went to the counter for their tray of food. She tried to come up with a subtle way to broach the subject of Jeffrey while she and Ainslee silently glopped cream cheese on their bagels, but nothing came to mind. She decided to ease into the conversation after she had a chance to learn more about Ainslee. She’d read her service record and she knew some aspects of her character, but she wanted to understand her better.
“Now you know my secret hobby, tell me about yours. What do you like to do? What subjects did you enjoy in school, if not my poor maligned chemistry?”
Ainslee didn’t frown, but her smile disappeared and left a neutral void. Even her voice became monotone. “I ran track and was a damned good soccer player.” She gestured at her leg. “Can’t anymore. I liked studying biology and anatomy, and my goal was to be an EMT someday. Can’t anymore.”
And that concludes the getting-to-know-you portion of our morning. Myra’s first reaction was to change away from the painful subject and find an easier topic for Ainslee to discuss, but she stopped herself.
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