Page 23 of Signed, SEALed, Delivered

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kennedy

This interview was the single most important of my career. Hart Stables and Therapy Center was the only center of its caliber for miles. The center run by Ella Hart, a published author and world-renowned expert in the field of Equestrian Therapy. The pictures that greeted me as I opened the ornate wooden door were proof positive the articles on the web were true.

A small boy smiling, his arms wrapped tight around the brown haired beauty I knew to be Ella. A young girl in leg braces standing beside a gelding, her smile lighting up the photo. Seeing that smile, watching it form as my patients took steps doctors said would never come, that was the best feeling.

A horse neighing pulled my smile from the nerves, which had held it captive since I woke this morning. I couldn't resist the temptation, as I made my way around the entry and into the stables.

My heels clicked against the solid wood of the floor, the restriction of my skirt keeping my steps short and wobbly. I would have dressed in boots and a pair of jeans, but my mother had tossed the pair she found into the trash. The joke was on her as I have thirty-three pairs in a storage facility I rented with my brother. If by a stroke of luck, and maybe a little skill, I am chosen for this position, I plan to move into my own apartment and wear boots everyday for the rest of my life.

I love being around horses, the smell of the hay, and the sounds of them moving around in their stalls. Even the smell of manure isn't too unpleasant for me.

A stall at the far end catches my attention, its inhabitants actually. Above the stall, was the long proud head of a beautiful horse, chewing lazily on his breakfast. His black coat shines in the overhead lights. Every stall has a single horse, each giving me a look as I pass them by. The tall guy on the end though, has my attention for the moment.

Approaching cautiously, the black beauty is eyeing me with the same amount of apprehension. Horses are majestic creatures, powerful and yet, in my opinion, one of the gentlest creatures alive.

“Hey, boy.” I said softly as I got closer, giving him time to investigate and decide if I pose a threat to him. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Letting him huff against my fist, the moisture his nostrils leave behind is a comfort for me. The nameplate beside his door reads, Hercules, and I wonder if he is here as part of the program or as a border.

“That’s right, I’m not gonna hurt ya.” Laying my palm flat against the plane of his nose, I slowly move my fingers up and down. Dark eyes never leave mine as he looks down at me. Hercules isn't quite as big as a Clydesdale, but he is pretty darn close.

“You make it a habit of touching what doesn't belong to you?” I would have jerked my hand back, but after years of dealing with horses and knowing the importance of never spooking one, I chose instead to drop my hand after patting him twice.

“Only handsome boys like this big guy.” I know the lady standing against the stall three doors over is Ella Hart. I saw her picture on the webpage and in a few articles I found on Wikipedia.

“You’re lucky you still have a hand, Hercules isn't known to be much of a gentleman.” Pushing herself away from the wall, the knowing sounds of boots to wood is a major comfort in opposition to the clicking sound my overpriced toe pinchers made.

As far as first impressions go, I had effectively blown any chance of working here. “Most men aren't, you have to learn to work around their rough edges, until they turn on their backs so you can scratch their bellies.” I began backing away from the edge of the stall, but Hercules was having none of it and nudges me in the shoulder.

“Looks to me like he has rolled over for you.” I don’t know Ella well enough to know if the humor in her voice is genuine or just to keep me smiling as she tosses me out on my ass. “You must be Kennedy,” she places her own hand where mine had just vacated.

“Yes, ma’am. Kennedy Forrester, and I will be leaving now.”

Cinnamon brown eyes drift to mine; her hand stills and then pats the horse twice just as I had. “Hercules, I need to borrow your new girlfriend for a few minutes.” Wordlessly she turns away, heading back toward the front of the stables, carrying her slender frame with authority. According to various sources, she is in her early forties, single, and a force to be reckoned with.

Stopping just before the hall to the reception office, Ella opens a door on the left, sending me a smile over her shoulder. Standing in the frame of the door, she waves me into the small office, as the phone begins ringing from the desk.

"I'm sorry, Kennedy, this is my personal line and I have to take it." I wave her off as she answers the line and exits the office. Stopping to take a deep breath, I began to have a good look around the room. Her shelves were filled with pictures of her and who I assumed were her family. A handsome man was wrapped around her from behind, sitting on what looks to be a boat. Little girls in ballet attire, hair pulled tightly atop their heads. Boys playing soccer, hair wet from sweat covering their heads. Men dressed formally as if attending a wedding. My eyes continue to scan and imagine the story behind each image, I smiled until I come to the photo of the man dressed in a military uniform, and my thoughts fall to Zach.

I wish he would have given me an opportunity to apologize for any offense I had given him. He had tried to be a gentleman, getting my letter to the rightful owner. Perhaps I spoke too much, told him too many of my problems. He was fighting a battle and didn't need to hear about my issues. Still, as I look into the brown eyes of the soldier in the picture, I wonder what Zach looks like? Is he tall or short, dark haired like the man in the picture or is his hair light from the sun? Does he have facial hair or is he clean-shaven?

"Sorry about that," Ella apologized for the interruption as she reclaimed her seat, donned her glasses, and then took my resume in hand. "Kennedy, I see here that you graduated just a few years ago."

"Yes, ma'am. Top five in my class."Ella dropped my resume back to her desk, slowly and methodically removing her reading glasses, and then placing them on the desk. She folded her hands in grace and elegance. She was quiet for several seconds, although it seems so much longer.

"Kennedy, I'm going to be blunt. I have a stack of applicants for this particular position. I've sat through more interviews in the past week than I ever want to remember. Each of them swearing to work hard for me, telling me how good they are with people and of value to me and this company. So tell me, Kennedy, what can you do for me that all the others can't?"

When I was in high school, I had a teacher who was the most amazing person. He wasn't like the other staff who stood in front of the class and taught behind the desk. He walked around the room or sat in chairs that were vacant due to illness and what not. He would give us real life examples instead of textbook doctrine. He was exciting and fun and made learning his subject easy. I can remember one time; a classmate of mine was having an issue understanding something. She was giving an oral presentation in the class and lost her place. He told her, people will tell you to baffle with bullshit if you can’t impress them with knowledge. He disagreed with that saying, instead he said be honest, own your mistakes and everyone will follow you. I'm choosing to take his advice.

"Well, Ms. Hart, if you hire me, I will most definitely keep you entertained. I tend to ramble when I'm nervous, as you can clearly see, and I’ll tell you more about completely useless things than you ever wanted to hear. I tend to go overboard with the information I pass along. In all honesty, Ms. Hart, I want to work for this company because I live to see the face of a patient as they take that first step. I treasure each and every moment I can spend with the horses and people who care as much as I do about them"There, I had been honest, now let's see if she found me to be of her liking. By acting on impulse in touching her property, I was using all of my luck with her not calling the authorities.

"Well, Kennedy, besides your inability to filter and condense what you have to say, is there anything else you would like me to know? Boyfriend, children, husband?"

"No, I'm single, I know there’s someone out there for me, I just have to be patient and not get in a hurry. I know when the time is right, he’ll be there waiting for me, as well." Silently, I hoped he would be as handsome as the soldier in the photo behind her. As strong and kind as the man I had most likely scared away. Ella assured me she would contact me either way regarding the position. I thanked her and quietly exited the building.

I made it to the parking space where I had left my Porsche. I hated this car, so much money spent on a name instead of something practical. Claudia Forrester didn't need a large event to spend astonishing amounts of money on things she wanted, this car was a prime example. With all of my money tied up in Jason's half of the shop, I would be selling this car and using the money left over to supplement my income. I wouldn't rely on the maturity of my trust fund to support me. I had a suspicion once my father got wind of my involvement with Jason's venture; my assets would be frozen as well.

Once inside the confines of the car, surrounded by almost complete silence and the smell of fine leather, I took the steering wheel in my hands and lowered my forehead to it. "Please, God, make my other half with a good heart like Zach’s. I don't care if he is short and has bad breath, just make him a good man." With a kiss to my fingertip to send the prayer to God's ears, I pressed the button to start the car.

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