by Addison Fox
Holt was already mounted and waiting for her across the small corral they kept to work the horses and teach the kids. “You ready?” He had an old baseball cap pulled low over his forehead and a black T-shirt covered his broad chest to perfection. Well-worn blue jeans hugged his powerful thighs, and she felt her horse move restlessly underneath her when she sat staring a bit too long.
“Yes! Yes, I’m ready.”
“Let’s go.” Holt waited for her to get out in front of him, moving single-file through the enclosed barn area until they got out to the broader property.
Quiet descended around them as they navigated a small trail. The children were still in the main house having their breakfast, and the grounds had an early morning calm that wouldn’t last long. As they cleared the close confines of the outbuildings, Holt moved his horse up next to hers. “I’ve missed seeing you this week.”
“I’ve missed seeing you, too.”
They rode in silence for a while, the quiet only punctuated by her comments as she showed him various parts of the grounds. Fifteen minutes later, she focused on the wood-rail fence that became visible in the distance and pointed toward it. “That’s the edge of the property. I thought we could follow it all the way around, give you a sense of the land.”
“It’s about five acres, right?”
“Yep. The houses and stables take up a good two acres, so they don’t have all that much room to expand.”
“Do they do that many outdoor activities with the kids?”
“A fair amount. I don’t know all the specifics, but I know a big part of the kids’ therapy is tied to some time spent outdoors and exercising.”
“I think I’m starting to get a sense of things. Where are they looking to put the new structure?”
“On the opposite side of the barn, away from the residences.”
“The build request is pretty straightforward.” Holt pulled his horse to a halt and Mayson did the same, coming to a stop next to him. “The real problem is the way the land’s been donated and the stipulated family approvals that are required to make changes.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to get around it? The owners are good people. Ed and Sabrina are doing good work here.”
“I’m sure they are, but if Ed can’t convince his brother to make a different decision, I’m afraid they’re not going to be able to make the changes they’d like.”
An irrational spurt of anger shot through her system like a geyser as her hands whitened around the reins. “Damn it, but it’s just so unnecessary.”
“Mayson?” When she didn’t respond, Holt said her name once more. “Don’t get upset. We’re here to figure some things out.”
She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm. She could already feel Tabby stamping her feet beneath her at the show of irrational anger. “I simply can’t accept someone waving power like it’s a flag. Ed’s brother is ruining the opportunity for something truly good because of his own selfishness.”
“I wish I could say something that would make it better. In the meantime, it’s probably best to suggest to Ed and Sabrina they think about putting their expansion plans on hold or they look for an alternative piece of land. Something they can manage themselves, without anyone else’s interference.”
She knew it was irrational and that getting upset wouldn’t help, but her ongoing frustration with the situation with the charity coalesced into a ball of helpless anger, roiling away in her gut. Before she could calm down and get herself in check, the stress-fueled acid in her stomach changed, rumbling through her midsection with the force of a tidal wave and she immediately began to feel nauseous.
“Mayson?”
She caught sight of Holt’s concerned gaze a moment before she simply acted, moving solely on the instinct to get off the horse. With stiff, jerky movements, she overcompensated on the reins, accidentally pulling Tabby’s head too hard. The animal’s initial skittishness toward her anger ratcheted up another notch, and she felt the shift in the large body beneath her a split second before Tabby began to move.
Her thighs gripped the saddle hard as the horse took off, the muscular body flexing beneath her with a combination of unexpected speed and the desire to remove the irritation from her back. A hard scream echoed from her throat as Mayson found herself flying along the perimeter of the fence, wind whipping at her as she rode the out of control horse.
In the distance, she heard Holt and his horse behind her, the thunder of hooves a heavy counterpoint to the slamming of her pulse in her ears. Images flashed through her mind as she fought to gain control of the moment. The warm faces of the children as they greeted her that morning in the cafeteria. Holt’s serious gaze as he pointed out various things on the trail. The ride up to the camp that morning as the bright sunlight shone over the Hudson River when they drove the West Side Highway out of the city.
Underneath all of it pounded a ruthless fear that gripped her throat with icy claws.
“Mayson!”
Holt’s frantic shouts ensured he was still behind her, and the heavy gallop of hooves was closer than before. She felt Tabby’s muscles bunch, sensing the horse was getting ready for another burst of speed before a heavy whoosh of air pressed along her side. Holt reached out, his large hand snagging at the reins she held on to with an iron grip. Immediately, she felt the change in Tabby and braced her thighs for a hard stop.
The moment ended nearly as fast as it had begun. Holt’s steady hand and firm touch on the reins pulled Tabby to an easy stop as he pulled his own mount to a halt.
“Mayson?” Holt’s eyes were wide as he turned toward her, a glaze of fear covering the hazel and turning them a dark shade of green. “What the hell happened?”
A hard breath stuck in her throat and Mayson struggled to find the words as the reality of her precarious ride filled her thoughts. “I…I don…don’t know. I got sick and all I wanted to do was get off Tabby’s back.”
Without losing his grip on her reins, Holt slipped from the saddle and walked both horses toward a stretch of fence. He made quick work of tying their reins to posts before reaching for her. She felt the steady touch of his hands at her waist. Felt the gentle tug as he pulled her off Tabby and into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on, the feel of the horse’s moving body still echoing through her muscles.
“Shh.” He whispered it against her head as he moved several paces from the horses. Setting her down briefly, he dropped to the ground and tugged on her hand. “Come here.”
She went willingly, snuggling into his arms as they came around her. Under the heavy thump of her own pulse, she heard the hard beat of his heart, slamming against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten angry like that. Shouldn’t have upset Tabby like that. I’m not good enough on a horse to do that. To take that kind of risk.”
“You did fine.”
A light breeze whipped around them, cooling the skin as she fought to calm down. The ride was scary, but it was over and she was fine, as were Holt and the horses. Imagining what might have happened wasn’t going to help matters and only left her full of morbid thoughts.
“Are you feeling better?” Holt’s voice was soothing, and the firm strokes of his hand over her back went a long way toward calming her.
“I think so. One minute I was just so angry for Ed and Sabrina, and the next minute all I wanted to do was get off Tabby and go be sick by myself.”
“Have you had any morning sickness yet?”
“A little, but nothing too bad. The doctor said it could come on at any time, but since I hadn’t had it that badly, I’d likely escape unscathed.”
His body stiffened underneath her. “Doctor?”
“Of course. I went this past week.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was a personal visit. An exam.” The excuse was lame and she knew it.
“I could have waited outside until yo
u were done.”
The words rose up, as if out of nowhere, anger heating them to a white-hot intensity, and she leaped off his lap. “What, Holt? Like we were a real family? Like you were an anxious husband waiting to see the first sonogram?”
“You had a sonogram?”
The eagerness she saw on his face wasn’t lost on her, but even with the evidence of his interest, she couldn’t stop the barrage of emotions. Guilt. Elation. More guilt.
“Of course.”
“And the baby’s okay?”
“Yes. Fine. I’d have told you if it wasn’t.”
Sparks shot from the depths of his eyes, flecks of gold wound through the hazel as he ripped off his sunglasses to stare her down. “Would you? Because it’s not like you even told me about the damn appointment.”
“Because we’re not a couple. We’re a couple of people who have found ourselves in an inconvenient situation.”
“I’ve tried to make that right.”
“No, you’ve tried to dictate a solution, and that’s something else entirely.”
Chapter Eight
Holt followed Mayson along the narrow trail that led up to the barn. Neither of them had been up to getting back on their horses, so they’d walked from the far side of the property. Even now, over an hour later, he couldn’t stop the incessant need to look at her, reassuring himself that she was okay. The horses had long since calmed, their gait even and controlled as they brought them back to the barn.
So why couldn’t he calm down?
No matter how many times he told himself she was fine, the image of what could have been flashed in his mind as if on an endless, gruesome loop. Add on the fight, and he hadn’t found his equilibrium.
“Mayson!”
The happy shout from the direction of the big yard between the main house and the barn echoed toward them both as Mayson let up a large wave. A young woman, he guessed in her late teens, stood proudly waving back. “Who is that?”
“That’s Annette.”
“She seems excited to see you.”
“She’s one of my favorite people here. We have a special bond.”
Although he’d done his research and knew a key goal of the facility was to help prepare children with intellectual challenges for adulthood, he’d still expected the majority of the residents to be small children. “How old is she?”
“According to her, she’s eighteen and three-quarters. A number she proudly updates each time I’m here.”
“That’s awfully specific.”
“And 100 percent Annette.” For the first time since the incident at the property line, he heard signs of normalcy in her voice. “I don’t know the full extent of her challenges, but she’s very deliberate and rational in her communication.”
Holt opened the gate to a small grazing area and got the horses situated. “How long has she been here?”
“I think about three years now. Her mother was able to get her in on a scholarship, and the time has done wonders for her.”
“Why don’t you go on and let me get the horses situated so they can graze a bit.”
Mayson handed him the reins before she walked over to embrace the young woman. The hug was natural and easy, and it stopped him in his tracks. Could any other women of his acquaintance give of themselves so willingly to someone who faced more challenges in the world than most would ever understand?
He made quick work of getting the horses settled and followed in her footsteps. He’d have had to be blind to miss the speculation he saw on Annette’s face, and thought the combination of protectiveness and curiosity was particularly telling.
“Annette, I’d like you to meet my friend, Holt.”
Holt took the immediately proffered hand and couldn’t hold back his smile at the girl’s eager expression.
“I think you mean boy friend, Mayson,” Annette said.
“You could call me that.”
Holt got a giggle from the girl, before she pointed toward the grazing horses. “Did you have a good ride?”
“It was a beautiful morning.” Holt saw Mayson’s gaze relax as he side-stepped the question. “Do you enjoy the horses?”
“Not so much. They smell. I like painting. And bikes. And swimming. And going to the movies.”
Mayson patted the girl’s shoulder. “Last time I was here, Annette showed me a painting she was working on. Did you finish it?”
Annette’s vivid green gaze lit up with excitement. “I finished it and two more. Want to see them?”
At two sets of expectant eyes, Holt knew his cue. “I’d love to see your work, too. Why don’t you two go in, and I’ll follow after removing the horses’ saddles and getting them back in their stalls.”
“I can help you with that.”
Holt waved Mayson off, the irrational desire to keep her away from the horses still pounding strong in his veins. “It won’t take me long at all.”
“Okay.”
As he watched them walk away, he marveled at the easy camaraderie and simple warmth Mayson seemed to hold for everyone. Here was a woman at the very top of her game professionally, a member of one of New York’s most well-respected families, yet she innately understood how to give of herself to others.
Her smiles were easy and sincere, and he could see how happy she was here.
Once again, the whisper of his past tugged at him, making him feel as if his feet were encased in cement. His young life was so ugly. He’d done everything in his power to push it down deep, to pretend as if it had never existed. Hell, he’d even used his business to try and erase past crimes. But no matter what he did, it had existed, shaping him into the man he was, molding him into the businessman he was. Except for Keira and Nathan’s house party, when was the last time he’d spent a weekend off? Or spent time outside in the sun? And had he ever spent the afternoon with a child?
Never…
His weekends were simply another part of the work week. Time spent outside was to advance a business goal, like a round of golf, not leisurely walks over lush acres of farm. And children? The reality was he had absolutely no experience. But he would. Soon he’d be a father. And every metric he’d used to evaluate his life needed to change.
…
Holt found the art classroom easily enough, the building that housed the student’s activities a small structure about a hundred yards from the barn. He made mental notes as he moved through the hallway. Simple ways they could make quick improvements, even if they did ultimately get their funding.
He followed a small corridor, the sound of voices growing louder as he reached the last classroom. At the opportunity to watch unobserved, he deliberately eavesdropped on the conversation.
“I met him at my sister’s wedding.”
The mention of the wedding had Annette going off in gales of girlish smiles as she asked about the dresses and the party, and Mayson indulged her, pulling up some pictures on her phone for them to ooh and aah over.
“The groom is handsome, but not as much as Holt.”
“I agree he’s very handsome. But enough boy talk. I want to see your paintings.”
Annette danced over to a row of canvasses leaning against the wall. “These are my old ones. The new ones are hidden. Turn around.”
Mayson first admired the canvasses that were face up. Holt didn’t miss the wink she shot him as she turned around and he knew the jig was up. “Do I have to turn around, too?”
Annette was delighted by his arrival, gesturing him into the room and pointing toward a seat near the front. “Here. You sit next to Mayson. And you have to hide your eyes, too.”
Holt took a minute to look at the same canvasses Mayson had deliberated over. Bright, vivid slashes of color filled each and every one, and while the technique often needed work, the enthusiasm was more than evident in each and every stroke. He thought about that while Annette positioned her canvasses for the big reveal. There was a vibrancy and a joy in the young girl he couldn’t help admiring.
For
individuals the world thought of as “challenged,” she had a wonderful view of herself and the world around her. She continued to hem and haw behind them, and Holt could hear the sound of the wooden frame of the canvas as it touched the floor, then the wall, then was shifted once more.
“Okay! Turn around!”
The order was layered with excitement, and Holt and Mayson turned to admire Annette’s paintings at the same time. He thought he might need Mayson’s support as he reviewed the child’s work, but the reaction that welled up was absolutely genuine. “Annette. They’re beautiful.”
Hands went to her slim hips. “You can’t just say that. You have to mean it.”
“I do mean it.” He walked forward, standing before each canvas to review the work before moving to the next. “You’ve done a beautiful job.”
The paintings centered on a common theme. Each showed a girl, her face turned toward the sun with her arms outstretched. In every painting, the color of the subject’s dress was different and the backgrounds changed, but all were well-done and showed Annette’s development of thought and ability to work around a theme.
“I meant them to be the same but different.”
“You’ve done a great job. Tell me about them.”
The girl turned her focus toward the canvasses and chattered happily about each of the paintings. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his arm that he turned to look at Mayson, his attention finally broken from the work. “She’s amazing.”
Annette turned, her smile even broader than the one she’d worn earlier. “You like them?”
“I love them.”
“Which is your favorite?”
“The woman in the blue dress.” He got up from the desk and stood next to the painting, his gaze focused on the canvas. He lifted his hands to his hips in a gesture that matched Annette’s.
“Why do you like the blue one?”
