Page 83 of The Lost Hours
I reached her side before the dust settled, then knelt beside her to make sure I could see her chest rise and hear her breathe. The relief gripped me like a gloved hand but I didn’t relax into it. “Can you hear me?”
She nodded, indicating her neck wasn’t broken, and then I let out my breath before peering into her eyes to make sure they were focused and making contact with me. Her cheeks were pale, but she’d started to gulp in air and wasn’t indicating any pain in her chest to show broken ribs. Methodically, I began checking her bones, one by one, just the way medics had done to me more times than I could count.
Her breath was becoming more normal and her eyes were following me. I cupped her chin in my hands. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
She nodded and I bit my lip.
“Where does it hurt?”
Her brown eyes were somber. “Everywhere.”
I stifled a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I know. But does it really hurt in any one place?”
She shook her head.
“I’m going to take off your riding boots and I’m going to ask you to wiggle your toes, okay?”
Lucy nodded and watched as I took off one boot and then the other, smiling to myself when I noticed her socks had blue ribbons printed all over them.
“Let me see you wiggle your toes.”
She did, and then we worked our way around her body, making sure everything worked by wiggling it on command. Captain Wentworth stayed where he was, oblivious to the near trauma but I thought his arrogant head toss told me everything I wanted to know.See? I could have made it.
I helped Lucy to a sitting position and we sat there for a while to make sure she still felt all right. I stood and went to Captain Wentworth and allowed him to nuzzle me. I couldn’t scold him; he’d done exactly what Lucy had wanted him to.
I turned to Lucy to see if she was ready to stand, and was surprised to see her scooting backward, away from Captain Wentworth. “Lucy?”
“I don’t want to ride him anymore.”
“What do you mean? Are you hurt and not telling me?”
She shook her head, her eyes managing not to leave Captain Wentworth.
“Then you need to get back on.” Something stilled inside of me, like the stillness of the pond in the first hours after dawn. The words came to me, diluted and muffled as if they were coming from under water, but I heard them, remembered them as if they’d been spoken to me only the day before. “Or else you forget the reason you used to get up on the horse in the first place.”
She stared hard at me. “But you didn’t get back on.”
I stared back, realizing the words were spoken without animosity and matter-of-factly as only children can.
“That was different,” I began.
“How?”
I wanted to stop and ask her how someone so young could be so wise, and how she knew about the argument I’d been having with myself for more than six years.
“Because . . .” I fumbled for words, realizing how easy they were to find. “Because nobody was there to tell me to.”
She leaned back on her arms in the dirt, her eyes innocent. “But I’m here now. Why don’t you get back on and start riding again, Miss Piper?”
I turned to look at Captain Wentworth, as if he could add something to the conversation. And then I remembered my other reason, as compelling as any other. I’d never admitted it to anyone, and had only begun to acknowledge it myself but there it was, the pink elephant in the middle of the room that I’d been trying to ignore.
I swallowed, trying to think of words an eight-year-old would understand. “Because I used to be really, really good, and people would come to see me and they’d all cheer and clap for me because I was that good. But now . . .” I shrugged, wondering if even I understood. “Now I’m not great anymore. I’m probably not even any good, for that matter. I don’t . . . I don’t want to get up on a horse again after all this time and find out that I’m just another rider.”
Her delicate eyebrows were folded sharply over her eyes. “But, Miss Piper, I’m here now. And I promise to clap and cheer for you if you get in that saddle right now and ride. And then it’ll be my turn.”
I looked at her, trying to find a way to win this argument, and I realized that I couldn’t. I turned back to Captain Wentworth. His ears twitched and his tail moved slowly from side to side, as if waiting for my answer. His scar seemed more vivid, as if he were trying to show me that I wasn’t alone.Or else you forget the reason you used to get up on the horse in the first place.Had my grandmother said those words to teach us both about persevering no matter how many times you fell off? And had she ever harbored hope that I could in turn teach her how very true they were? In that respect I’d failed her, but maybe Lucy was offering me a second chance.
Without thinking, I checked the girth. The saddle would be small, but I’d manage. I picked up the reins from the ground and began to lead Captain Wentworth to the mounting block.
