Leap of Faith (15 page)

Suck it up, Princess
, she told herself, wishing she really could just snap out of it.

Jessica's mind moved to the future, when she was out of her cast and off her crutches. What would she do with her time then? This sitting around knitting and being housebound was fine while she had the excuse of her ankle, but then what? She would have all those hours she'd spent with the horses to fill in. She tried to push the thoughts aside. Tiffany would say to just let the universe deal with it; that the right answer would turn up at the right time.

Perhaps she
should
resume her instructing – increase the number of pupils even. She could do that while pregnant. And she certainly had all the facilities. Well, except she'd probably need a horse or two to keep her hand in and give the odd demonstration on. And acquiring new horses would completely defeat the purpose of her having gone through all this grief, and prove to everyone that she had acted too hastily. She wasn't ready to admit to that just yet, and she wasn't totally convinced she had done the wrong thing. But she was terribly sad about not seeing Prince and Beau move slowly around the paddock, and not being able go out and stroke their lovely long faces and look into their deep brown eyes.

She sighed heavily and forced herself back to her knitting, holding it up when she got to the end of the row. She'd done about two centimetres. It was satisfying to see her scarf growing – far too slowly for her liking, but growing nonetheless. Only around one hundred and eighty centimetres left!

‘How's the knitting going?' Steve asked as he took his boots and then his coat off near the front door. ‘It's getting longer,' he said, nodding with approval.

‘Hmm. Very slowly. I'm not sure I have the patience for this.'

‘This was in the letterbox.' Steve pulled out a white envelope and handed it to her. She frowned slightly at the Eventing South Australia logo on it. She hadn't withdrawn her membership; was just going to not renew when it came up next year. This must be something about her accident.

She prised the envelope open, slid out the crisp, folded letter, and smoothed it flat. Her mouth dropped open – she'd been included in the South Australian state team and was required to be at a training session at Naracoorte in five months. What? How could this be? She'd bombed out of one of the major selection events. Her heart began racing. Her brain fought to understand.

‘What is it?' Steve asked.

Jessica ignored him. She knew the committee did selections throughout the year based on results. The availability of team members and their mounts would have to play a big part as well. Horses and riders were always getting injured and sick and then recovering. Perhaps she'd been selected on her previous scores, or through someone else's misfortune. How or why didn't really matter now.

She let out a deep sigh and handed the paper to Steve, who was now perched beside her and looking very worried. One of her dreams had come true. This was what she'd been working towards for years. She should be leaping up and down and demanding that they open champagne to celebrate. But all she felt was sick. And angry and disappointed in herself. Why couldn't they have informed her a few weeks ago? Before she'd quit the sport and sold her horses.

‘Shit,' Steve said, quietly as he read. ‘So what do we do?' He laid the paper gently on the coffee table.

‘Reply “thanks, but no thanks”, and include an explanation, I guess,' she said, shrugging her shoulders. She looked composed, almost nonchalant, but it was an act that drew on all of her strength of will and acting skills. If she could have run, she would have – to the bathroom to throw up. Acid rose from deep in her stomach, biting painfully.

‘But it's what you've been dreaming of for so long.'

‘Well, it's over now. It's too late.'

‘No, surely not. Can't you …?' His voice trailed off but he was clearly becoming frustrated.

‘No, Steve,' she said firmly. ‘It's over. I'll write to them and explain.' A mere formality, since everyone in South Australian eventing would already know the truth.

‘Sometimes I don't think I know you at all,' Steve said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head slowly.

‘You can't be more disappointed than I am.'
In myself.

‘So bloody do something about it!'

‘Like what? I can't exactly phone up the new owners and say I've changed my mind, can I?'

She could see that was exactly what Steve was thinking, and his pause before speaking again confirmed it.

‘No, I suppose you can't.'

‘And the reason I sold them is still there anyway. Being selected for the team really doesn't change anything. I've still lost my nerve, remember? And don't suggest counselling. We've been over that.'

‘Okay,' Steve said with a deep, resigned sigh. ‘I'll get you a cup of tea.' He got up slowly. Jessica knew he wanted to fix this; it's what Steve was good at. But there was nothing to be fixed – there was no longer an eventing combination of Jessica Harrington and Collins Park Prince, no Jessica Harrington in the world of eventing, full stop. She knew it sounded melodramatic, but she really did feel like a big part of her had died.

She returned to her knitting, taking much more time and care with each stitch than she needed to, determined to show Steve she was fine.

‘I guess I should at least be celebrating that I made the team,' she called.

‘Yes, it's a huge achievement. You should be very proud of yourself.
I'm
very proud of you.'

‘Thanks,' Jessica said to both his comment and the arrival of the steaming mug in front of her. But there was no talk of getting a bottle of something bubbly from the fridge. They always had a bottle of sparkling wine on hand; it was an unspoken pact they seemed to have made early on in their relationship – to keep something on hand for celebrating or commiserating, because life was too short to not drink good wine. Anyway, her selection was as much down to her father as herself, and without him being here …

It's the way it's meant to be
, she told herself. But it didn't make her feel any better. She'd totally let him and herself down by not placing Prince correctly and causing the fall, and not having the guts to face her fear and get back in the saddle when her leg healed.

If only she had the justification that she was pregnant. Perhaps she was; she hadn't used one of the three pregnancy test kits she'd picked up after buying knitting supplies. Thankfully the pharmacy had been empty and she hadn't been accosted by any of the local gossips and quizzed on her purchase. Worrying about that had meant she almost hadn't ventured in.

Despite knowing a few weeks off the pill was probably not nearly enough time to get pregnant, she got up, declared, ‘Sorry, need a wee,' and went to the bathroom to do a test.

A few minutes later, Jessica was staring at the negative test. She'd known it was a long shot, but still felt totally bowled over with disappointment. She put her head in her hands and waited for the tears. None came. She sat there for a few more moments, hoping the sadness that was making her whole body ache might ease.

Jessica wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor and be sucked down the drain into the molten core of the earth.

Jessica and Steve were silently engrossed in their own activities later that afternoon – Jessica plodding along with knitting and Steve browsing a stock magazine – when the phone rang. Steve answered it when Jessica showed no interest.

‘Steve speaking … Hey, I'll just get her. It's for you. Tiffany,' he said, holding the phone out.

Jessica scolded herself for the feeling of annoyance that swept through her. She wasn't exactly enjoying her knitting, but she was on a mission, and the interruption was unwelcome.

‘Hi Tiff,' Jessica said, laying the phone on her lap and pressing the speaker button. She resumed her knitting. ‘What's up?'

‘Are you okay?'

‘Yes, fine, why?'

‘What is that noise – that clicking sound?'

‘Knitting needles. I'm knitting.'

‘You're what?'

‘Knitting. A scarf for Steve.'

‘Since when do you knit?'

‘Since this afternoon when I bought wool and knitting needles. I needed something to do. If I watch another DVD or infomercial I will go mad.'

‘Sounds like you already have.' Tiffany paused, then spoke hesitatingly. ‘Er, congratulations on selection for the state team.'

‘Thanks. How did you find out?'

‘It's in this month's Equestrian SA news – the email came in last night.'

Jessica let out a groan. Of course the team announcement would be in the newsletter.

‘So, are you okay? Really?'

‘I'm fine.' She didn't sound convincing even to herself. ‘Really, I'm fine.'

‘You're allowed not to be.'

‘Well, I am.'

‘Great. It's a huge achievement. I hope you're letting yourself indulge in a little pride. Your dad would have been very proud.'

Hmm, actually, I don't think anything short of being a fully fledged member of the Olympic team
would have garnered much high praise from Jeff Collins
. But she kept the words to herself. Tiffany would agree – she'd seen and heard Jessica's father in fine form plenty of times – but would tell Jessica to stop being so hard on herself.

‘So, what's up with you? How are Brandy and Storm going?'

‘Oh, okay. I don't have a lot of time left to work them with this earning a living caper. I'm so tuckered out when I get home it's all I can do to get them in, rugged, and fed. Maybe when daylight saving starts again.'

‘That's good,' Jessica said, concentrating more on her hard plastic needles. She quite liked their industrious sound. It was probably driving Steve mad, but he'd be too polite to say anything.

‘Do you fancy coming along and watching me on Saturday? It's the club championships.'

Jessica immediately saw what her friend was doing – trying to get her out of the house and improve her spirits. ‘I can't strap for you, so there's no point.'

‘Not to strap, obviously. To watch. Moral support.'

‘I can't, Tiff.'

‘Oh. Okay.'

Jessica felt bad for letting her friend down, but she really couldn't face horse people yet. Especially now, thanks to her news. Actually, she didn't think she could face any more than one or two people at a time, full stop – especially after being bailed up in the street. A jolt of fear shot through her as she pictured the mass of people who would be attending the dressage day. Jesus, was she becoming agoraphobic? She put the thought aside. No, she just wanted more of her own company for a while longer.

Jessica could feel Steve's worried gaze on her. She silently thanked the knitting for letting her pretend it needed her attention.

‘I'll be sending lots of positive energy,' she said to Tiffany. It sounded lame, but it was the best she could do.

‘Thanks. Well, I'd better get going. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with the announcement. I'm sure if you wanted to, you could …'

‘I'm fine. I do appreciate the call, though, thanks,' Jessica cut in.

‘Okay, then. Well, you take care.'

‘You too.' Jessica pushed the button to end the call.

‘Why did you lie to Tiffany?'

‘I didn't lie.'

‘You told her you can't go to watch her at dressage.'

‘I can't. I can't face all those people staring at me and talking behind their backs: “Oh, poor Jessica Harrington.” “There she is, did you hear she sold her horses because of her fall only to find out she made the state eventing team?”'

‘So it does bother you?'

‘Of course it bothers me. But it was my decision and it's done.'

‘Well, you're going to have to face everyone sooner or later.'

Jessica kept her eyes on her knitting.
Not if I never go to another horse event – and why would I, when I'm no longer involved?

‘She's your best friend, Jess.'

‘She understands.'

‘I don't think she does. I'm sure she was gutted. And after all she's done for you these past weeks.'

Jessica knew he was right and the guilt niggled at her, but it seemed small in the scheme of just how bad she felt about herself and her life.

‘I'll go with you. We can park on the ring and you won't even have to get out of the car and talk to anyone, if you don't want to.'

‘You go, Steve, but I don't want to.'

‘Jessica, not everything's about you. Tiff's your best friend. She clearly wants you there for a bit of moral support – she called especially. How could you be so selfish and cruel? After all she's done for you.' He glared at her, shook his head, got up, and silently made his way to the kitchen.

Jessica cringed. If she thought about it, she could probably only count on one hand the number of times she'd had that particular searing expression bestowed upon her. God, it was all so hard. She was having a bad enough time dealing with her own disappointment in herself and holding that back from consuming her while keeping up her ‘I'm fine' façade. She sighed.

‘All right, if it means that much to you, I'll go,' she said.

‘Don't do it for me,' Steve said, head buried in the fridge.

Jessica put down her knitting, picked up the phone and pressed redial. Tiffany answered after a few rings.

‘I'm so sorry,' Jessica launched straight in, ‘I'm being a selfish, unsupportive cow. Steve and I will come along on Saturday.'

‘Oh, that would be nice,' Tiffany said guardedly. ‘But don't feel you have to; I've been plenty of times on my own. It's just another comp.'

‘It is not – it's your club championships. I'm so sorry. I'm far too wrapped up in my own crap right now. You're right; the team announcement did hit me for a bit of a six. I only got the letter today.' She looked up to find Steve watching her from the kitchen sink, tea towel in hand.