Читать книгу The Complete Christmas Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 86

THE snowplows had been and the roads were open the next day. The ranch yard was a hub of activity by midmorning. There were extra cars in the driveway. Blake had had the chores done before Hope was even out of bed, and she’d eaten breakfast alone in the kitchen—Anna had the day off to do Christmas shopping in Calgary.

Hope looped her camera strap around her neck before putting on her puffy red jacket. It looked cold, so she put mittens on her hands—the kind with flaps that flipped up to leave her fingers exposed—and a knitted hat with a small funky peak on top of her head. Maybe she needed to be warm, but that didn’t mean she had to be styleless. It had been a while since she’d put up with a northern winter but she did know how.

And after last night, and the confidences she’d shared with Blake, she felt the need to hit a reset button. It would be better to keep things businesslike from here on in, right? Professional. She was here to take pictures, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

The barn was warmer than she’d expected, considering the frosty bite to the air outside. Voices came from the riding ring and she made her way in that direction, taking in the scent of horse and hay as she walked down the corridor. It was a pleasant scent, and reminded her of early adolescence when, typical for her age, she’d gone through a horse stage and wanted her own. The answer had always been no, though eventually she’d worn her parents down and they’d agreed to riding lessons.

She’d had exactly three wonderful lessons when Mom had left Dad—again—and they’d moved.

She sighed. And people wondered why she didn’t let herself count on anyone—or anything—too much. Her parents’ marriage hadn’t been an easy one. Whoever said opposites attract was dead wrong. It was a recipe for disaster. Her mom and dad hadn’t balanced each other out. They’d driven each other crazy—Lydia with her flighty ways and Greg always trying to clip her wings. Hope had felt left in the gap—a child herself, but with the responsibility of raising her sisters. She hadn’t done a very good job.

She stopped and took a few pictures of the long corridor of stalls. The floor was neat as a pin, and the inside of the tack room was exactly the same—saddles lined up precisely, bridles hung on thick pegs, a stack of heavy blankets a splash of color in a room that was decidedly brown. She liked it, actually, the leather and wood were rich and redolent with character and a certain Western charm.

She experimented with a few different angles and adjustments for several minutes, losing herself in the task. Finally, when she was satisfied, she made her way to the entrance to the riding ring.

The first thing to catch her eye was Blake. He stood in the middle of the ring, boots planted a few feet apart and his hands on his hips. He wore a red long-sleeved shirt with a puffed black vest over the top and a cowboy hat on his head. Her gaze traveled up his long legs to the worn pockets of his jeans and her lips went dry.

On impulse she lifted her camera, turned it to capture him from top to bottom. She zoomed in so that his tall figure filled the viewfinder. There was no posing, no setting the scene, but right now he didn’t need it. Besides, this wasn’t an official photo for the site or anything. She’d work with him on that, so he’d have some sort of head shot he could use for promotion. This, she admitted to herself, was purely self-indulgent. A whim. She’d probably end up hitting the “delete” key in the end anyway.

Two horses with riders slowly circled the ring, and Hope watched as the first rider—a girl of perhaps ten—looked at Blake and smiled widely. He called out some encouragement, and then something else to the next rider—a boy who looked to be a similar age. As Hope watched the girl stopped her horse and stayed to the side, while the boy trotted up to Blake, turned and trotted back to his first position. Then it was the girl’s turn.

It wasn’t until Hope took a moment to take a full look around the perimeter of the ring that she saw two women, probably the moms, standing to one side, smiling and chatting.

There was too much activity right now to get the pictures she wanted. She’d rather the ring was empty. In her mind she analyzed the different views and vantage points, the available natural light and what fixtures were installed within the building. Wouldn’t it be neat to be able to get a bird’s-eye view of the ring? But she had no idea how she’d get up to the rafters to take it. She’d done some daring things to get a shot before, but suspending herself from a ceiling was one she hadn’t tried yet.

The lesson ended and the boy and girl dismounted and began leading their horses to the exit. Hope slid aside, pressing herself to the wall to give them lots of room as they passed. She tilted her head as she watched them go by. They didn’t look disabled in any way. They looked like a normal boy and girl.

Blake was right on their heels and he gave her a brief nod, but that was all. She hung back and watched as he efficiently cross-tied the animals in the corridor. The kids, barely five feet tall, began the process of removing the tack. Blake stepped forward and helped take the weight of the saddle from each of them. But the rest he let them do alone.

He came over to her then, keeping an eye on the children the whole time. “Hey,” he said. “Wondered if you were ever going to get up.”

“My days and nights are still a little messed up,” she commented. “You were out here already when I dragged my sorry butt out of bed. It was a pretty cozy nest I had going on.”

His gaze fell on her and she tried to ignore the warm buzz of awareness that ran through her.

“They do all that themselves?” she asked.

He grinned easily and she realized he was quite different out here in his element. More relaxed, less of a chip on his shoulder. He moved his attention from her and nodded in the direction of the children. “They do now. Not at first, though. Both Jennie and Riley are autistic. It took quite some time for us to get them to this point.”

“I wondered. They look like normal kids.”

He frowned. “They are normal kids.”

Oh, she’d hit a nerve, she realized. Quite unintentionally, but she probably should have chosen her words better. “What I meant to say is they don’t have a visible disability.”

“I know what you meant. It’s a bit of a battle, though. Drawing the line between normal and abnormal is what can make it so hard for these kids, you know? It really shouldn’t matter what challenges they have. They have feelings like anyone else.”

There was a sharpness to his tone that made her look up. The line of his jaw was firm and, if her guess was right, defensive. “Of course they do. I never meant to imply otherwise.”

“I find it hard to take off my crusader’s hat at times.”

She wondered if that was because at one time he had been one of those kids. Had he been teased, picked on? Had there been more to his injury than facial deformity? She wasn’t any stranger to that either. She’d been a head taller than every other kid in her class from an early age. The names “Beanpole” and “Spider Legs” had hung on for years. Her prom date had been two inches shorter than her, and she’d worn plain flats when all her friends had on heels. Her own father had called her Stringbean.

It was a far cry from a disability, but the teasing had hurt just the same, making her sensitive to the situation of both Blake and his clients. Even now she had to remind herself to stand up straight, rather than slump in an attempt to conceal her height.

“Don’t apologize for being passionate about what you do. You’re clearly good at it,” she said gently.

She bit back her questions about why he’d become that crusader. Even if she did want to know more about him, now was not the time or place. Any answer she got would be short and unsatisfactory.

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms, watching as the little girl returned from the tack room with a bucket of brushes and began grooming her mount.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about them?”

The question seemed to satisfy him, and the harsh expression melted away as he watched the duo closely.

“Well,” he said, affection warming his voice, “take Jennie, there. I put her on Minstrel and Riley on Pokey from the beginning, because the gelding and mare are gentle and work well together. That’s important when there’s more than one rider involved. We couldn’t actually put them together at first. It took a lot of work. But they have similar issues and are a similar age. By pairing them up it’s not just the two horses that work well with the riders, but the riders work together, too.”

“They clearly like you,” she added. Blake was quite easy to like, after all—at least in this setting. Easier than she was comfortable with. “The way Jennie smiled at you out there...”

“She’s something, isn’t she?” He grinned as he watched the youngsters work. “At the beginning she nearly froze in the saddle and didn’t say a word. I had to walk Minstrel around the ring while her mom stayed alongside. Finally she started taking the reins herself, but her mom was always right there. Now Heather watches from the sidelines. Seeing Jennie that comfortable and confident—well, that’s what this program is all about.”

His easy speech took Hope by surprise. In the two days she’d been here he hadn’t ever said so much, and so freely. “Is it always just you? It must be a lot of work running this by yourself.”

“Oh, no. Jennie and Riley are at a point now where I don’t need extra staff or therapists for their sessions. We have to look at the individual child’s needs. Safety is the first priority.”

Hope looked up at Blake again, examined the dark scar running down his face. Julie had needed someone like Blake. Julie—who’d cried pitifully and without tears when she’d realized her career was over. When she’d understood that she’d never be beautiful again. Hope’s throat swelled and she found it hard to swallow. Julie had realized that she’d never get married, have children, be a grandmother. Seeing a person’s face when they understood they were going to die was a terrible, terrible thing.

She turned her attention to Riley for a moment as she pulled herself together. He wasn’t smiling, and his tongue was between his teeth as he ran a brush over Pokey’s hide. “Riley looks tense.”

“Riley’s very precise. He likes things a certain way, and it’s easy for him to get overwhelmed. Riding’s only part of it. Right now they’re grooming. Once they put the horses back in their stalls they’ll make sure they have fresh water and a little treat.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Jennie and Riley both have autism but they’re very highly functioning. It works putting them together because they both get overwhelmed and stressed very easily, and frustrated when they can’t communicate. Riding is soothing—the gait is very rhythmic and calming—and working with the horses is tactile. And by having to care for them they are practicing making connections, you know? That’s so important.”

“Mister Blake!” Riley came running up. “Mom brought carrots for Pokey.”

Blake smiled at the boy and nodded. “When he’s brushed, you can give him one.”

Riley looked over at Jennie. “Maybe Jennie would like one for Mist...Mist...”

“For Minstrel? Why don’t you ask her?”

They watched curiously as Riley hesitantly approached Jennie.

Jennie nodded at Riley, her ponytail flopping, and Blake smiled. “I’ll be...” he murmured. “They don’t talk to each other much. Mostly to the horses. It’s a big thing that Riley went to her just now. Look.”

Riley’s mom gave him two carrots, and he promptly took one to Jennie. “Not ’til they’re all brushed,” Riley instructed.

Jennie nodded solemnly and tucked the treat into her jacket. Blake laughed as Minstrel nudged at Jennie’s pocket. “Not yet,” she chided the horse. “Soon.”

“You’re not taking any pictures,” he noted, keeping an eye on the kids but confident things were well in hand.

Truth be told Hope had forgotten about her camera. Her interest had been captured by the workings of the place and talking to Blake. “I got a few of the barn while you were in the ring.”

He wrinkled his brow. “None of the session? There’s no problem with having our kids in the photos.”

She looked past him when she answered. “If you’re going to use the pictures for promotion you’d have to get all the parents to sign a release. This way is just easier.”

Jennie came over. “I’m done. Can I put Minstrel in his stall now?”

Blake laughed. “That carrot burning a hole in your pocket?”

Jennie looked puzzled as she took his joke literally and didn’t understand, so he turned to Hope. “Hope, this is Jennie. Jennie, this is Hope. Hope takes pictures, Jennie. She’s going to take pictures of the ranch for me.”

Hope said a quiet “Hi,” but Jennie’s smile faded and she seemed to withdraw.

“It’s okay,” he said to Hope as Jennie turned and trotted back to Minstrel. “She finds meeting new people daunting. That she even came over while you were standing here is progress. She hardly talked when she started.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Hope asked, looking up at him curiously.

“I had to be certified through the Canadian Therapeutic Riding Association. That’s the national board that governs everything. Anyway, we’re still pretty small here, and this time of year isn’t as busy—especially the few weeks leading up to Christmas. Spring and summer, when the weather turns nicer, it really books up. We do outdoor trail rides then, and other activities rather than just using the ring—including summer camps. I have some volunteers who come in to help, and some of our kids have medical teams that we work closely with—like physios or occupational therapists. This afternoon you’ll meet Cate Zerega. Completely different situation than Jennie and Riley.”

“How so?”

He kept one eye on the kids’ progress as he answered. “She’s got cerebral palsy and she’s in a wheelchair. It’s a lot to deal with when you’re six.”

Riley was having trouble getting Pokey unclipped so Blake stepped forward. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, leaving Hope standing there alone.

She watched as he smiled at Riley and soothed the boy’s nerves. Together they unclipped the horse, and Riley put him in his stall without further incident. It was then that the carrots came out, and Blake laughed as he showed them how to hold out their hands flat. Jennie giggled as her horse’s fuzzy nose touched her hand. Blake spoke for a few minutes with the mothers.

Hope had been thinking a lot about what Blake had said last night about her expecting people to be perfect. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She liked things a certain way. Didn’t everyone? But it had made her think about growing up, and how many times she’d wished her parents had been different—wished they’d stop fighting, stop getting on and off the merry-go-round of their marriage.

That was what had kept her awake late into the night last night. She’d remembered how for a while things would be good, but then the arguing would start again, and then Dad would have had enough, and Mom would decide to take the girls on a new adventure. It hadn’t always felt very adventurous. Hope and her sisters had had little stability through those years. Gram had been it.

Hope had tried her best for her sisters. She’d tried to hold it all together by getting perfect grades and trying to fill the gaps that their mother had left in her wake. She’d always felt like a failure, though. Every time Grace got in trouble or Faith got tears in her eyes from having her feelings hurt. Hope, being the oldest, had always felt she understood more about what was happening than the other two. Faith, the tenderhearted one, and Grace, the defensive one. It had been Hope who’d had to step in to dry tears or fix what was broken. Hope who had made sure everyone had a packed lunch and their homework completed.

And now the sisters hardly spoke. How was it she had messed it all up despite trying so hard, and Blake seemed to manage to put pieces back together so naturally?

A more grounded man she’d never met. He seemed comfortable in any situation, didn’t he? He had his place in the world and was secure in it. It was evident in his business, his house, the way he grabbed a dish towel and washed dishes or shoveled a walk. This was his corner of the world. And, while Hope loved her life in Sydney, she’d never quite called it home. Home was Beckett’s Run, and even then it had never had the permanence that she craved.

She turned away from the cozy scene with the kids and bit her lip. She’d been here two whole days and already it was bringing back things she didn’t like to think about. What was the use of dredging up past mistakes? She couldn’t change the past. And the truth was she couldn’t make everyone fit into the ordered existence she wanted—she needed. They’d all left her anyway. Every single one. She’d given up trying so she could save her own sanity.

It was time she got out of her own head and back to work. She went back into the ring and walked around the edge, snapping different angles. If she could get a good picture of the barn—despite the snow—and a long shot of the stable area, she could probably put together a good spread featuring the main facilities. It wasn’t exactly art, but that wasn’t what Blake was looking for, was it?

He found her standing in the middle of the dirt floor, much in the same way she’d found him standing only an hour before. “Hey.”

She turned and watched him stride across the loam, his long legs eating up the distance. He moved purposefully, with a loose-hipped grace that was sexy as all get out. His cowboy hat shadowed his face, but she could see his lips were set. Her fingers tightened around the camera and without thinking twice she began snapping—rapid shots, one after the other.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Trying some things out. Do you think I could get up there somehow? It’d be cool to get a bird’s-eye view of the ring from above.”

His eyes opened wide and there was a long pause. Then, “I could get a block and tackle,” he mused, rubbing his hand along his chin.

“Really?” She stared up at the beams and then heard his low chuckle. He was making fun of her. “Ha, ha.”

“You took off before you could meet the moms.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to.”

He frowned. “I wanted you to talk to them about including Riley and Jennie in your pictures. They’ll be back next week for the Christmas party. You could get shots then, I suppose. But we won’t have a regular session with them again while you’re here. You missed the opportunity.”

“I didn’t know you were serious about that.” She looked up at him and felt a little spiral of guilt as she offered the teensy white lie. “I thought it would just be easier if I took pictures of the rig empty.”

“Shouldn’t your pictures include what we do, not just where we do it?”

She bit her lip, unwilling to confess that she’d had to escape the corridor because she’d gotten emotional. “But those pictures are harder to get right. Do you really think Jennie and Riley would take to being positioned and posed, and all that goes into a photo like the ones we’re looking for?”

“Why would they have to pose? Can’t you just snap as we’re working? You’re a pro, Hope. You’ll come up with something that’ll work.”

Her lips dropped open as he unwittingly brushed aside all the hard work that went into her job, treating it as if it were nothing. “Something that will work? You’re right about one thing, Blake. I am a pro. And if I’m going to put my name on something it’s not going to be merely adequate. It has to be the best.”

He stepped closer and she felt the proximity of his body practically vibrating against her. She had to tip her chin up to meet his gaze, and for one delicious moment his eyes dropped to her lips before moving back up to her eyes again.

“I’m not interested in perfection.” His voice was an intense rumble in the quiet of the riding ring.

“And I never settle for anything less,” she retorted.

“I bet you don’t,” he replied.

His voice was so knowing that she wanted to smack the snide smile off his perfectly shaped lips.

“How about compassion, Hope? Do you have any of that?”

If he’d reached out and slapped her it wouldn’t have stung more. “Ouch,” she said quietly. “You do know how to aim, don’t you?”

He glowered at her. “Me with my scar. Jennie and Riley with their issues. Cate with her deformity. All of us—we come as a package deal. That’s what Bighorn Therapeutic Riding is about. That’s what you’re hired to take pictures of. Not an empty barn.”

Could he insult her any further? Goodness, she hadn’t meant him—or the children. She’d meant perfection in herself.

She ignored the tiny voice that said he might be a little bit right and let her anger build up a head of steam. “Hired? I wasn’t hired. I’m doing this for free, remember? You couldn’t possibly afford what I charge an hour.”

The indignant light in his eye dimmed and she felt like an utter heel for bringing money into it. He was doing a good thing here, and she knew his operating budget was probably a precise work of art from year to year. It had been a low blow. Maybe even lower than his dig about compassion.

It was only remembering his low opinion of her that kept her from apologizing—again.

“You’re right, of course,” he replied, his voice dangerously low.

“Take it or leave it.”

Her words hung in the air for several seconds.

Blake stepped back, his eyes icy and his expression hard and closed-off. “Take your perfect pictures,” he stated, then he smirked. “Oh, wait. You’re still searching for the perfect shot. Good luck with that.”

He spun on his boot heel and strode out of the ring, leaving her standing there alone.

She looked down at her toes, trying to put her jumbled emotions in order, surprisingly stung by his harsh words. There was anger at being told how to do her job. Guilt for lashing out. And, most surprising of all, attraction. With their bodies close together and his gaze flashing at her there’d been a shiver of excitement that had zinged up her spine.

But all that aside the kicker was that he was right. She’d never accomplished perfection, no matter how hard she tried. She did settle for less—all the time. And, truth be told, seeking perfection was becoming rather exhausting.

Worse than that was that she knew how he’d taken her words. No one was perfect here, and that was the whole point. Everyone was scarred, flawed in some way. There was no cure. No permanent fix. There was just acceptance—and she’d essentially thrown that back in his face just now. He’d actually looked hurt underneath the angry set of his features. Because she hadn’t just put down this place, she’d put him down too—even if it had been misconstrued. And she felt utterly rotten about it.

She had to fix it. Soon she’d be heading to Beckett’s Run and Christmas with Gram. Somehow between now and then she’d find a way to give both herself and Blake what they wanted.

And then she’d get back to her previously scheduled life.