Leap of Faith (16 page)

‘What? Oh! You poor thing. Jess, you have every right to feel weird about it – even angry at yourself. Just don't dwell on it and let it drag you down. You made the decision based on how you felt at the time. You can always change your mind – woman's prerogative and all that,' she added with a laugh, trying to ease the tension.

‘I'm just feeling a bit sorry for myself and need to snap out of it. Thanks for being such a good friend. I'll be fine. Sorry I won't be able to strap for you, but I'll be there cheering you on.'

‘Thanks, Jess, I really appreciate it. I'd better go, I've got dinner on the stove.'

‘Okay, see you Saturday.'

Jessica hung up and threw Steve a look that said, ‘Happy now?' and resumed her knitting.

But her conversation with her friend wouldn't leave her. Damn this knitting making her think a little too deeply. If only she could get rid of the blackness inside her and return to being a good friend, wife – person. She felt as if she were trapped down a well and couldn't climb out, couldn't find the energy to even try. She knew it sounded melodramatic, but she really did feel that her life was empty and meaningless. Even worse, it was largely her own doing.

Jessica fleetingly wondered if she should take Steve and Tiffany's advice and see someone about how she was feeling. They'd probably only tell her she needed to find something to look forward to and she had that – a baby – she just didn't actually feel all that positive about it.

If she let herself, she might feel good about her financial contribution to the farm and ensuring they wouldn't have to worry about feed for next year. But if she thought about that, it brought her right back to having given up Prince and Beau, and riding – the one thing that actually made her feel whole. The one thing she'd been good at, the one connection to her father she'd severed.

Oh God, what a mess.
Again Jessica expected tears, but it seemed the façade she was trying so hard to keep up was working. At least something in her life was.

Or maybe she'd just run out of tears for now.

Over dinner, Jessica made a special effort to be gushing with her praise of Steve's meal of warm chicken salad and crispy-skinned baked potato. It wasn't difficult, it was one of her favourites in his repertoire. Tonight, though, she hardly tasted it. And every mouthful sat heavily in the pit of her stomach that had felt full before the first bite.

Steve was subdued and, as Jessica watched him, she wondered if he was tired and picking up on her sombre mood, or if he was genuinely upset with her. Usually he shrugged a disagreement off quicker than this. What if this was the beginnings of the seven-year itch? What if she was sending their marriage into a downward spiral by not hiding her true feelings well enough? She thought she'd been doing so well at keeping it together. Clearly not, if it was affecting Steve and, in turn, them. But they were stronger than that, weren't they? She'd have to work even harder. Their future depended on it.

That night they made love again. It was the last thing Jessica wanted to do, and she suspected Steve felt the same, by the perfunctory way he responded to her. They were making a deliberate effort. For the first time ever, Jessica had insisted on turning out the light. She was suddenly feeling self-conscious about how untoned she was becoming – even a little flabby. She didn't want Steve to see but, more importantly, she didn't want to see herself. She'd have to take up running or something when she got the damned cast off.

Their kiss goodnight was tense. Or was she reading too much into it, being paranoid? They had both read enough articles that said once the intimacy stopped, the marriage was pretty much dead in the water. And for them to have sex less than three times a week would surely be the death knock.

She couldn't dwell on it – she didn't have the brain space. She turned her mind to the letter she would write to Eventing SA, giving up her place in the team. At least someone else would get a call-up thanks to her withdrawal. That was something. The idea should have made her feel better, but it didn't. She wanted to hang on to her place now she'd finally got it.

But she'd given it up the day she'd walked away from horses, gutlessly thrown in the towel after twenty years of work.
Idiot!
She lay awake, staring at the ceiling listening to the dogs and Steve breathing quietly and evenly. There really was no going back now, was there? She'd look more of a fool if she publicly declared her change of heart.

Her role now was to give Steve the children he wanted. He'd waited long enough, been patient with her long enough. It was the least she could do.

Jessica felt quite uneasy leaving the property, not just because she was going off to face all the inquisitiveness of the horsey set, but also because she'd practically become a hermit. She liked being cocooned at home and now dreaded leaving the property. She wasn't sure why really, except she felt safe there. From what threat, she didn't know either. She was emotionally fragile and felt better able to cope on her own or just with Steve and Tiffany. She hadn't even accompanied Steve to town since being accosted by Tom Baines and Bill Smith.

She cursed her heart rate rising as they drove to Tiffany's club championships. It wasn't as if anyone could say anything worse than had already been said or make her feel worse than she already did. If only she could ask Steve to turn around and take her home. But that would cause all sorts of questions and she was trying so hard to appear normal, unaffected by her grief. Perhaps if she hadn't had Jeff Collins as her father she might have been able to swallow her pride, admit to a mistake and put an end to this torment. She probably wouldn't have made the stupid, kneejerk decision in the first place!
Damn you, Dad!

Lately whenever she thought about him, she got angry. This was all his fault. If he'd been at the comp, she wouldn't have been distracted, wouldn't have let Prince down. Her father's death certainly had set off a horrible chain of events, like knocking over a line of carefully placed dominoes. And if it wasn't for his blatant dislike for dressage as a sport on its own – he'd thought of it as a ‘necessary evil' – then maybe things would be a whole lot different. She stopped herself letting out a loud harrumph and folded her arms tight across her chest.

‘You okay?' Steve asked from the driver's seat beside her.

‘Yep. All good.'

‘Tiffany will really appreciate you being there.'

‘I know. And it's fine. Really.'

She wanted to say,
It's not about that.
But that would open a big old can of worms. She stared out the window, trying not give in to the few tears filling her eyes or the desire to bang her head hard against the car door. She wished she could stay angry, but her anger was always followed by the hollow feeling of guilt that then settled in her stomach as an aching ball of sadness.

‘How was she feeling about it?' Steve asked, clearly trying to keep Jessica talking and from sinking into the silence that seemed to be her default position these days. Had she once been considered chatty? Had she noticeably changed these last few weeks to those around her? So what if she had? She had a lot on her mind.

‘Okay.' Jessica had rung her friend the night before to check she didn't need them to do anything and to tell her they were bringing a picnic lunch. ‘She's a bit concerned about her lack of preparation now she's working. But you know Tiff, not
that
worried.'

‘Yeah. I'm sure she'll do fine.'

‘She can only do her best, and she will.' They were just words. Jessica longed to believe them. If only she was as easy-going as Tiffany. Jessica had often both cursed and been impressed by her friend's laid-back attitude to riding and competition – sometimes she downright envied it. Tiffany did it all for fun: missed a comp if she didn't feel like going; didn't ride when the weather was too hot, too cold, too windy, too rainy. She hadn't had a Jeff Collins standing in the arena bellowing at her not to be a wuss. But perhaps if she had, Tiffany wouldn't still be at the same standard she'd been at for the last five years. Jessica regularly was both in awe of and frustrated by her friend, who seemed content to be mediocre. Tiffany could be so much better, but she didn't appear to care. Jessica hated her critical thoughts and kept them to herself – though she did try to gently urge Tiffany on.

If she was to be honest, now she was in such a different place and headspace, her overwhelming feeling towards Tiffany and her riding was envy. She particularly envied her closeness with her horses. Tiffany would never consider selling Brandy or Storm for any reason – even though to Jessica they were just creatures that had been rejected from the track or hadn't made the grade for someone else; nowhere near as well-bred or as well put together as Prince and Beau. Perhaps that was the difference. The thought made her guilt bloom again.
God, stop being so catty!
Jess shook it aside. She was being a bitch, lashing out, no doubt brought on by feeling sorry for herself. She hated herself right then. But it was true that Tiffany was a bit of a sucker for a lost soul. It was probably one of the things that Jessica loved most about her: she was a genuinely kind, generous person through and through. Tiffany was her best friend. And Jessica was going to watch her ride because that's what friends did. And she would enjoy it – or at least pretend to.

She felt Steve's hand give her thigh a gentle squeeze. She patted it and smiled across at him. ‘Thanks for taking me.'

‘My pleasure.'

‘I hope you realise you're going to be bored out of your brain.'

‘Not with the latest Lee Child to read I won't.'

It was actually quite nice to be going out for the day. And the weather was perfect for it: sunny, but not too warm. It would be just right for sitting in the cosy car. And Steve had put together a wonderful picnic. Unlike Jessica, Tiff didn't suffer nerves to the point they stopped her eating.

Forty minutes later they pulled into the showgrounds, where four dressage arenas edged in white were set up. Jessica tried to gulp down the flurry of butterflies that started up in earnest every time she pulled into an event and then settled as a knot of tension in her belly. They fluttered harder when she saw the horses being worked out the back in the warm-up area. She reminded herself she wasn't riding and had nothing to be nervous about, then sighed and settled back into her seat. She hadn't even realised she'd moved to the edge of it. God, she'd almost forgotten how jittery she used to get before competitions, and that was mere weeks ago. She really didn't miss that. Had it all been worth it? ‘Yes,' Jeff Collins would have said, and Jessica would have agreed. ‘No way,' Tiffany and Steve would say. Her father's obsession with being the best, winning, meant Jessica had always been ravaged with nerves. It was now clearly so ingrained, such a part of her makeup that she couldn't shake it even now he was gone.

Her heart felt as if it had stopped and her blood ran cold as her attention was caught by one of the horses in the workout area. No, it couldn't be.
Of course it could.
But was it? Was that Prince over there being worked? If not, this horse had a very similar stride. Her heart stopped and then began beating a slow, painful tattoo against her ribs. She hadn't considered she might see her horses here – had forgotten that most other eventers did straight dressage as well. But you wouldn't bring a horse to compete after just owning them a few days, surely? Well, she wouldn't. You needed time to settle, establish a good, solid partnership. She found herself holding her breath as the horse came around the circle.
Come on, show me your face.

Finally, it did – and it had a big white blaze. Phew. Jessica opened her mouth and breathed in deeply, but had to force herself to carefully let out her breath and not draw Steve's attention.

‘Where do you think we should park?' Steve asked, looking around as their vehicle crawled forwards.

‘Sorry? What's that?'

‘You were miles away. Where should I park?'

‘Oh. There's Tiff,' she said, pointing to where Tiffany was frantically waving them over with both arms.

‘Brilliant. Looks like she's got prime position for us.' They drove around the arena to where Tiffany had set up several buckets to save them a park beside her ute and float. She gathered the buckets as they pulled in.

‘Hey, you guys!' she called through the window Jessica had wound down. ‘Great to see you.'

Jessica felt a surge of emotion. Tiffany was beaming, clearly so pleased they'd come along. How could she have thought of letting her down, even for a second?

She got out and carefully made her way across the uneven gravel, getting a fright each time her crutches slipped off the larger stones or sank into soft areas. She felt a little jittery as she hugged her friend and then followed her around to the side of the float where Brandy and Storm were tied up.

‘Careful, you're not stable on your feet yet,' Tiffany warned.

‘Tell me about it,' Jessica said with a groan.

‘Well, I don't want to be responsible for more injuries if one of those two boofheads gives you a nudge and sends you flying.'

Jessica didn't need to be told twice. She was keen to not touch them anyway. If she did, the gorgeous smell of clean horses, feed and tack she could already detect might be her undoing. These scents were as alluring to horse lovers as the finest designer eau de parfum was to the rest of the population. She stood back with Steve and watched as Tiffany put her helmet on and then put the bridle on Brandy. But she was still too close. She silently groaned with a mixture of pleasure, regret and disappointment. She hadn't set foot in the barn since the horses had left. Oh how she now ached. She couldn't resist taking a deep whiff, despite knowing it would make her sadder. She breathed in the mixture of clean horse, leather, soap, boot polish, hairspray and enamel. Oh, how she'd missed that.