Leap of Faith (31 page)

‘Can I get you anything? Paracetamol, ibuprofen?'

Steve checked his watch. ‘In an hour. Until then I'll have a bit of a rest here,' he said.

‘I'll leave you in peace and go and settle Faith for the night,' she said, taking their cups over to the sink.

Jessica was careful to close the door quietly behind her as she left the house. The dogs looked up from their slumber on the deck and slowly got to their feet. The whole mood of the property seemed to have changed – it was far from the high of earlier. And, damn it, her leg was now throbbing.

Faith was grazing at the far side of the paddock, doing what horses in paddocks did, but Jessica felt a rush of loneliness. She swallowed it down. She was, no doubt, still reacting to Steve's dramatic arrival home and her new worry about him and his injuries. It wasn't actually a whole lot different to riding a great cross-country round, only to find someone else had ridden it faster, or only to lose a couple of rails in the show jumping. She really should be used to these highs and lows; she'd spent the majority of her life on that seesaw – hell, she'd thrived on it!

If the last few months had taught her anything, it was that she could do calm and even. In fact, she'd come to prefer it. And the events of this morning had been so different: she'd achieved on her own terms and without all the drama her father used to create.

Jessica felt a stab of alarm. Faith looked like any other horse grazing in a paddock. What if she wasn't special? What if their success this morning had all been an illusion; what if she'd made more out of it because she
wanted
Faith to be special? Jessica sighed. No, she had
needed
it. She'd needed Faith as much as Faith had needed her, them.

Really, none of it mattered. She loved the plain little horse and whether she had exceptional powers or not – how ridiculous to even think she did, anyway! – Faith was special to Jessica. And they obviously had something to offer each other.

Jessica went over to the fence, cupped her hands around her mouth and called, ‘Faith! Faith!'

The horse didn't even lift her head – she hadn't heard. The breeze was too strong, and in the wrong direction. Jessica cupped her hands again, pursed her lips, and whistled as loudly as she could – she couldn't do the louder version using two fingers. She watched as, this time, Faith lifted her head, turned, and stared in Jessica's direction. Jessica waved an arm, beckoning the horse with her hand, before whistling again. Suddenly the horse was cantering over and Jessica's heart was in her throat.

‘Good girl, what a good, good girl,' she said, praising the horse and rubbing her face while she devoured the carrots offered as a reward. She clipped the lead rope onto the halter, opened the steel mesh gate, then led her through and over to the stables. She felt decidedly lighter than mere moments before – just as she'd felt earlier in the day in the horse's presence.

Walking back to the house after feeding and settling Faith in for the night, Jessica felt content again. The horse really was such a joy to be around. At the door, she called the dogs to follow her inside. They'd given her so much comfort when she'd been injured, perhaps they might do the same for Steve.

When it was time for dinner, Steve insisted he was fine to get up and sit at the table to eat, and Jessica was relieved to see his appetite was unaffected. And that his colour was gradually returning to normal.

They went to bed earlier than usual and held each other carefully. Jessica had been shocked to see the deep purple strip of bruising crossing Steve's chest, and the large but less obvious patches down his right side. He assured her they probably weren't as painful as they looked, but she suspected he was trying to spare her additional worry.

‘And, anyway,' he'd said, ‘what's a bit of bruising when it could have been so much worse – like death or ending up in a dribbling, vegetative state thanks to a head injury?' He spoke so matter-of-factly that neither of them could find any words for a few moments, so they just held each other that little bit tighter. The embrace told them they understood the magnitude of the bullet they'd dodged.

They didn't make love. Jessica didn't broach the subject or make a move, and, anyway, she didn't think they could be any more intimate than they were right then. They were back, thanks to Faith and some random guy who'd had a moment of inattention while behind the wheel.

*

Jessica woke with a start to find Steve muttering and thrashing about beside her. In the pale glow of the nightlight she'd plugged into the power point – she knew how disorienting it could be to wake under the influence of painkillers – she could see his features twisted in anguish. She put her hand on his shoulder where there was no bruising and gently squeezed.

‘Steve,' she said in barely more than a whisper, ‘wake up, you're having a nightmare.'

His eyes opened and he looked at her blankly, confused for a moment before he seemed to focus and clarity seeped in. She kissed him on the lips.

‘You had a nightmare. Are you okay?' She realised he was sweating at the same moment he seemed to. He pushed the covers off.

‘I'll get a towel,' Jessica said, getting out of bed. She soaked and wrung out a facewasher in the ensuite and handed it and a hand towel to him from the side of the bed before getting back in. She bunched her pillows up and leant against them, slightly upright.

‘Jesus,' he said, wiping his forehead and face.

‘Are you okay? Do you remember what it was about?'

‘The accident. I keep seeing the car coming at me, knowing it's going to hit but not being able to do anything about it. Then Brad, the ambulance, everything; over and over. God, it's horrible, Jess. I've never been so scared in all my life. And I think dreaming it's even worse than the real thing.'

Jessica's heart lurched. She rubbed his arm. She was surprised at how grateful she felt towards him for sharing this with her; for admitting his vulnerability. And then she felt a wave of guilt for not having been able to do the same after her accident. How could she have been so selfish? It felt so good to have him share his pain with her. This was what marriage should really be about; sharing each other's pain, sharing the burden, healing it. Not going it alone, locking yourself away in a prison of despair.

She blinked. She'd been lost in her thoughts, aware he'd been speaking, but unsure of his exact words. Now they came to her as if an untuned radio had been moved onto a station.

‘I can't believe the force of the airbags. That was pretty scary in itself,' he was saying. ‘And then I smelt smoke. I'm frantically trying to get the seatbelt undone and you know when you're in a panic or a rush and your hands don't work?'

Jessica nodded.

‘Seriously, Jess, I thought I was going to die. Burn to death. It sounds so silly, melodramatic, especially now I know the smell was the airbags and not actual fire. But …'

Jessica noticed there were tears in his eyes. ‘Oh, Steve,' she said, reaching over and wrapping her arms around his neck and gently drawing his face to her chest. Steve sobbed openly while she stroked his hair. It felt so good to hold him and comfort him. How could she have denied him – them – this? Having him tell her the details and how he'd felt was probably healing her as much as him.

It dawned on her that this was the purpose of the group therapy sessions she'd heard about. She hadn't been raised to share her innermost feelings, especially fear; to do so was to show yourself as being weak, lacking in moral fibre, not in control. But here with Steve, instead of thinking these things of him, she thought he was being incredibly brave baring his soul like this. And she truly respected him for it. She'd had things so badly wrong for so long.

Gradually Steve's sobs subsided and his breathing quietened. She stroked his hair a little longer until she was sure he was asleep. Then she kissed him on the forehead and carefully eased herself away and back to her side of the bed, though she kept a hand on his arm so he might be reassured by her presence and sleep soundly.

Jessica lay in the pale light fighting sleep. She didn't care how tired she would be the next day; she wanted to be there to wake Steve the moment he showed any sign of distress. She saw it as her job. She figured it was the least she could do for him.

‘God,' Steve said, the following morning when he woke, ‘I feel like I've been hit by a truck.'

‘Well, you as good as have been. Anywhere in particular that's sore – do you need to go to the hospital?' Jessica was lying beside him, having snuck out earlier to feed hay to Faith in her pyjamas and robe, her feet encased in rubber boots. Amazingly, she'd managed to hop back into bed without waking him. It was now quite late for them – almost eight. The dogs had been out and come back in as well and had resumed their positions at the foot of the bed.

‘No, I just hurt all over. I'm stiff,' he said, sitting up gingerly and then testing different movements.

Jessica cringed at the anguish on his face. ‘Well, maybe you should just stay in bed for the day. I'll even bring you breakfast.'

‘Thanks, but I'd better keep moving, else I might seize up altogether.'

‘Well, I'll do bacon and eggs – hopefully the protein will help.'

‘That would be great,' he said, smiling through his veil of pain. ‘Lordy,' he said with a gasp, as he got out of bed and tried to reach down for the T-shirt and track pants he'd left on the floor.

‘I'll get them,' Jessica said, bounding to his aid. ‘Don't overdo it.'

She helped him get dressed, watched by the dogs. She insisted on putting his socks and Ugg slippers on for him. As she squatted down in front of him, she thought fondly that this would be what having a child would be like.

‘Do you want one – or maybe two – of Dad's walking sticks?' she asked as Steve slowly got to his feet and started shuffling out to the kitchen.

‘I should be right, thanks. Come on, you guys,' he said to the dogs, who got up and followed slowly.

‘So, tell me you're just going to take it easy today,' Jessica said, as they devoured their big breakfasts.

‘I don't think I have much choice.'

‘Is there anything you need me to do? Do you want me to go into town and get some papers and magazines, or more painkillers?'

‘Thanks, but I'll be fine. It looks like it's going to be a nice day. This morning I think I'd like to sit in the sun and watch you ride – if you're planning on riding, that is.'

‘Oh.' Jessica couldn't remember the last time Steve had shown any interest in watching her ride. They'd been together so long the novelty had worn off years ago. Just like she'd stopped walking around the golf course with him or going to watch tennis. ‘I hadn't really thought about it. I could give her a quick workout on the arena to check for any kinks and then head out for a stroll.'

‘Sounds perfect. Then we could head over to Balhannah or Hahndorf for lunch.'

‘You don't think that would be overdoing it?'

‘Sitting in the car, sitting in a café, then sitting in a car again? I think I'll be right.'

‘Okay. Sounds good.' Jessica shuddered at remembering their last two recent lunch dates: the day Prince and Beau had left and the day she'd come out of plaster. At least Steve seemed a more amenable patient than she'd been.

She buzzed with excitement and pride as she saddled Faith and then led her onto the arena to mount. Steve was wrapped in a checked woollen rug and ensconced in a deck chair beside the arena. As Jessica glanced at him, she realised he looked just as her father had those last few weeks. Her throat caught at the memory.

‘We've got an audience today, Faith.'

She put the horse through all her paces – taking care to spend equal time going in each direction and giving her a decent workout. The whole time she marvelled at her little dream horse, who hadn't put a foot wrong. She was definitely a very good find.

At one point Jessica even began to wonder how Faith would do in a dressage test. She certainly had the movement and the temperament to do quite well in the lower levels. Then Jessica reminded herself that she was over making horses go around and around an arena for hours, not to mention being pretty over it herself. And she'd never even consider appearing in public without putting all the work in and doing the best job possible. No matter how much she'd changed, she didn't think she'd be comfortable with anything less than the best. She never put a young or green horse in a competition without it being at a level far better than it needed on the day. She – and by default her father – had a reputation to uphold.

Finally, Jessica brought Faith to a halt and hopped off. She was greeted with applause from Steve.

‘Bravo. Bravo. You look great together,' he called.

Jessica grinned back. She never got tired of receiving approval – from anyone.

‘Aren't you going to take her out for a stroll?'

‘No, I think she's had enough for one day. Haven't you?' she said to the horse while she rubbed her face. In fact, she'd worked Faith far harder and for far longer than she'd intended. Old habits die hard, she supposed. She'd better start feeding the horse small supplementary mixes if she was going to carry on like this.

Was she? Sure, why not, while they were both enjoying it? And Faith certainly liked the company and attention.

‘I'm going to head back to the house. It's actually a little cold when the sun disappears,' Steve said, getting up and gathering his blanket to him.

‘Okay. I won't be long.'

*

They fell into a nice, comfortable routine for the next few days: Jessica riding Faith while Steve watched, trips into town together for groceries, and afternoons catching up on farm bookwork and TV shows from the PVR.