Lauraine Snelling (13 page)

Gil finally figured out how to operate the bed rails and lowered them. His son knew more about hospital beds than he did. It wasn’t like he’d never been around through all those surgeries, but cribs were far different than real beds and Eddie had not had surgery for a long time. But when he got really honest with himself, Maria had done more bedside duty than him. Honesty might be the best policy, but it sure could be painful.

After they were checked out and on their way back up the hills toward home, Eddie talked nonstop.

“I had a weird dream in the hospital, right before I woke up.”

“Yeah?” Gil looked in the mirror.

“Yeah. My mom,” here his voice trailed away for a moment; Gil’s insides clenched and Sandra’s phone call popped to the front of his mind, “or at least she looked like a mom, leaned over my bed and said my horse was waiting in the hallway to see me but the nurse wouldn’t let it in. Crazy, huh?”

The all-knowing “they” of research said often we dream of things we yearn for, Gil knew. A mother would be tough to find since a wife came first, and he wasn’t so great in his selection processes there, but a horse . . .

Eddie’s voice again: “When are we going to look for a horse? Better not keep it waiting in the hall.”

“Don’t you think you’d better recover a little first?”

“Over what?”

“Um, a shunt replaced? Surgery?”

“No big deal.” Eddie touched the bandage on his neck with his fingertips.

If it were me, I’d be begging for pain pills.
If this incision was anything like the last one, it was four inches long at least. Gil had cut his hand once requiring four stitches to close. All he could say was that it was a good thing he was healthy—pain and he were not a pretty picture.

“You know I’m supposed to be in Chicago tomorrow, but if you need me, I can stay home.”

“Why? Maria’s going to be there.” He caught his father’s mirror gaze. “Isn’t she?”

Was that fear he saw in Eddie’s eyes?
He’s so used to you being gone that one more trip is no big deal . . . but the loss of Maria
. . . “She’ll be there.” What would he do without Maria?

A few miles later, Eddie switched from talking about Bonnie to a wife. “So, Dad, have you thought about getting married again?”

Gil, who’d been thinking about Sandra’s phone call and needing to remind Maria about not answering the phone, twitched and the van swerved. Until his attorney eliminated the problem of Sandra, he must play it safe. “Hey, sport, remember I asked you not to answer the phone for a while?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can’t I answer the phone? I do a good job.”

“I know you do. This has—let’s just say, ah, just do it, okay.” Gil closed his eyes for a moment at a stop sign. He knew his voice had snapped, and the look on his son’s face said the same thing. “Look, we’ll start a horse search as soon as I get home, all right?”

Eddie nodded, said nothing until they pulled into the driveway. “So what about the wife thing, Dad?”

“Where’s Eddie?” Gil asked that afternoon when he entered the kitchen from his office after reviewing the notes for his speech.

Maria turned from the refrigerator. “He said he was tired and went to bed.”

“Is this usual?”

“Sí. He took the pain medicine.”

Gil went to stand at the French doors looking over the deck and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t see how I can cancel the conference tomorrow.”

“Why do that?”

“Maybe I need to be here for Eddie.”

“Why? He’ll be fine in a day or so. If he need help, I call the doctor.”

“He didn’t tell me he was in pain.”

“He not tell me either, I look at him and I know.”

Gil studied the woman who went about her job so calmly. She ran his house, took care of his son, cooked, cleaned, and rarely asked for anything. Except for Eddie. When he needed something, she asked. Nothing for herself. She needed to know everything to protect his son.

“Maria, I had a phone call from Sandra.”

“No.” Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. The string of Spanish included words he did not know, and he probably didn’t want a translation. Maria had already been working for them when Sandra walked out. She had cared for the helpless infant, walked the floor with him when he couldn’t sleep. She’d been the one at the hospital that day when Gil arrived after work to find Sandra had abandoned them.

“What
she
want?”

“I don’t know. My attorney, Ben Bowers, is looking into it, but he hasn’t been able to locate Sandra so far.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll transfer all calls to my cell phone. When I call home, I’ll let it ring once, hang up, and call back. Then you can answer it immediately before it can switch over to call forwarding.” He scrubbed restless hands through his hair. “Maybe I should stay home.”

“You are big speaker, right?”

“Yes.”

“They can find another?”

“Not easily.” He knew he was the drawing card for many of the conferees, but . . . was this a sufficient family problem that he should stay home? He hated that it was still a question after all these years.

“You go. We’ll be okay. You come back tomorrow night?”

“Yes.” He’d be gone less than twenty-four hours. Red-eye there, lecture, do the Q & A, and catch the next flight home.

She was nodding. “Muy bueno.”

“I’m going to look in on Eddie, and then I’ll finish things in my office. Thanks, Maria.”

“For what?”

“Just thanks.” He felt like whistling as he walked down the hall. Bonnie lifted her head as he stepped into the dimmed room where Eddie lay on his side, one arm draped over the dog. His wheelchair sat by the bed, wheels locked in place. The light from the hall slid over his son’s smooth skin, the bandage on his neck, his expression relaxed in sleep. Gil’s jaw tightened. Sandra had walked out on a treasure, and she’d get no second chance.

Gil called home before his flight left and on his way to the hotel from O’Hare. He checked in, grateful he’d been able to sleep on the plane, took an hour’s nap, showered, and was ready to face the crowd.

He dialed home just before leaving his room—letting it ring once, hanging up, then calling right back. Eight o’clock in the morning Pacific Time. “How are things?”

“Eddie is eating his breakfast. Bonnie chased a rabbit.”

“Did she catch it?”

Maria laughed. “Way too slow.” She lowered her voice. “No phone calls.”

“Well, tell Eddie I said hi, and I’ll see you both this evening.”

“Sí. You tell them how to be big success.”

“I will.” He flipped the phone shut and briefcase in hand headed out the door.

After the presentation, waiting for his plane, he called Carly at Rescue Ranch. “Hi, this is Gil Winters.”

“Well hello, Gil! How is Eddie?”

“Came through just fine. He should be back riding in a couple of days. The shunt was replaced and is working like it should again.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Silence. Gil, having heard her smooth, liquid tones, remembered Eddie’s question about getting a new wife. Maybe it was time he put the bitterness of Sandra’s betrayal behind and . . . what? Started looking?
Dating
? How would he even go about it?

“Gil?”

“Uh, I want you to start looking for a horse for Eddie.”

Now it was her turn for silence. “I-I . . . that’s wonderful. You caught me by surprise.”

“I’m catching me by surprise too.”

“This may take some time.”

If it was anything like Eddie looking for a house, it wouldn’t. “Our barn is not finished yet, and we’ve not built a round pen. I had the pastures overseeded, and we’re watering to get it up.” He paused a moment and inhaled. “I’ll be home tonight. Is there any chance you could come look at our place in the next couple of days and see if you have any suggestions?”

“I’d love to.” Her voice flowed with warmth through the cell phone.

“Good, I’ll check with Maria’s schedule when I get home, and we’ll have dinner on the patio.”

“Fine. Thanks for calling.”

Gil hung up just as they announced the first boarding call, feeling like Good Dad, even if he was Good Dad half a country away. Eddie would have his horse. As he fell into the line, he mentally kicked himself. He’d not bought Eddie a present. After taking his seat in first class, he thought on what he’d like to buy. Something for his horse, but what? He smiled to himself at the blue nylon halter that now hung on a peg in Eddie’s room. Like he always taught at his seminars. Preplay what you desire. Replay your successes. The halter was definitely preplaying on Eddie’s part.

He leaned back, gratitude that he could afford to make Eddie’s dream come true surging through him. Gratitude, another trait he had dwelt on in his presentations. Like Oprah, he kept a gratitude journal and wrote in it daily. Like right now. He pulled the leather bound journal from his briefcase and listed five things he was grateful for today. The plane getting him home quickly. Eddie’s recovery. Their new home. That he had a business that allowed him time to be with his son. He tapped the pen on his chin deciding on the next one, not that he couldn’t keep writing if he so desired. That Carly would look for a horse for them. He thought a moment more. Hmm. Carly.

FOURTEEN

C
ould even heaven be better than this?

Maggie felt like she could see forever from the top of Breaking Free’s back. The big gelding walked the perimeter of the round pen as if he owned it. Flat-footed, with a jig thrown in only once in a while, he had settled down within a couple of days. Not like the first time she rode him. He’d played with the bit, jigged sideways, and tried to bolt. Riding him then had felt like she was on a stick of dynamite with a short fuse. What she needed now was to get him used to a bigger arena. So far she’d not taken him faster than a trot. Not that she hadn’t wanted to.

Teaching him to respond to leg aides, to stand for mount and dismount, to obey the reins and back up on command, all took time. Good thing he was a willing student. Each morning she and Mr. James laid out the plan for the day and after reviewing the earlier work, she’d start in. The day of the open house drew nearer.

“The warden plans on dropping by this morning,” Mr. James had said just before they all filed off the bus. Everyone scurried around to make sure things were clean and put away. They cleaned stalls and groomed their horse as if the president of the United States were visiting.

Maggie asked her horse—oh, her nerve to call him hers—to back up again, not his favorite cue. He waited until she pulled firmly on the reins, then backed until she released the pressure. She patted his shoulder and up his neck. “You’re ready for the warden, Freebee.”

He heard the sound of the approaching vehicle before she did, raising his head and looking up the road.

“This is it, big boy, you better be on your best behavior.” His ears flicked back to her voice and forward to the approaching car. Should she dismount and lead him over to greet the warden or keep on working? She opted for working and signaled him around the pen again, trotting diagonals, turns, and bending around her leg, slowly getting him back in shape and used to riding not racing.

“Maggie.” Mr. James signaled her from the gate.

The warden shook his head as she dismounted. “This can’t be that wild one.”

“It is, sir. He’s come a long way,” Maggie said, sending up a quick prayer that Breaking Free wouldn’t take some weird aversion to the warden’s aftershave or something as she led the horse over to the two men.

Breaking Free tensed at the strange man but held his ground. Maggie could feel him tremble.

“You’re the first man other than Mr. James to come near him. When we figured out it was men he hated, not humans in general, we were able to make more progress with him.”

“Maggie made the progress,” Mr. James said. “She is training him now as a riding horse, a far different kind of training than he has had in the past.”

“So, he will be ready for adoption?” The warden looked to Maggie for the answer.

“Yes, sir.”

“And he will be safe?”

“He will still need to receive more training, but it depends on his new owner as to what kind. The vet doesn’t believe he’ll be able to jump or do eventing, that his legs would break down again under that kind of pressure.”

The warden turned to Mr. James. “These kinds of things will be stipulated in the adoption contract?”

“Yes, and the foundation keeps track of the horses that are adopted to make sure they are properly cared for. The people who adopt cannot sell the horse to someone else. If they can’t care for the animal any longer, it comes back to the foundation.”

“I remember reading all that but seeing it in action makes more of an impact.” Brundage nodded to Maggie. “You’ve done well.”

She felt like she’d been knighted by the Queen of England.

Mr. James smiled. “Take Breaking Free through his paces, so Warden Brundage can see what we’re talking about.”

Maggie mounted again, praying that Freebee would stand still. He didn’t always. But this time he did, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She walked and trotted him through the routine, so immersed in him and her together she never noticed the two men had left. “Guess we did all right, big boy.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.
How will I ever be able to let you go?

“Dad, look at this.” Eddie held out a section of the local newspaper. “An open house for adopting retired racehorses. Inmates worked with them . . . cool! And it’s not far away.”

Gil’s heart sank. Had that much time passed? He took the paper, looking to stop this before his son took the bit in his teeth and ran with it. Purchasing a horse from a prison had never been in the plan. He read the article and looked at his son, focusing on anything but the word inmates. “Eddie, Thoroughbreds are huge. They know only how to run fast; it’s bred into them.”

“It’s an open house, we could just go look, that wouldn’t hurt anything. It would be a fun horse thing to do . . . you know, dad and son bonding.” Eddie wore his most winsome and devastating smile. “Besides, it’s been more than a week and Carly hasn’t found me a horse yet.”