Leap of Faith (11 page)

Not that she believed too much in signs – didn't let herself. If she gave in to that sort of scattered thinking she would look for them everywhere and never stay focussed. It would be like giving in to the fear, and she might as well throw in the towel and waste all the years and money her parents and she had put into chasing her dreams. Her aim had always been to represent her country, hopefully at the Commonwealth or Olympic Games. And while she'd had so many setbacks along the way – horses not making the grade, or being injured or getting sick; eventing was tough on everyone – Prince was finally looking like the one to get her where she wanted to be.

Jessica closed her eyes and tried to picture herself riding cross-country again. It was daylight and she was wide awake, so there was no fear of the drowning nightmare frightening her. In her mind, she rode the course. But as she came around that last bend and imagined herself preparing to approach the water, her heart rate rose significantly. Suddenly she was gasping for air and gripping her chest. The dogs beside her got up and sat to attention, looking up at her. They whined. There was a sharp pain in her chest. She still struggled for air, her breathing too quick and shallow.
It can't be a heart attack. It's just an anxiety attack. You're fine. Just breathe
. Jessica pulled her jumper up over her face in the hope it would act like a paper bag.

She started to calm down and was soon able to take a few big, gulping breaths. She leant down and began stroking the heads of the worried dogs, slowly and rhythmically. Gradually the pain in her chest dulled and then disappeared, and her heart rate returned to just above normal. She was okay – weary, but okay.

She sat feeling stunned, like when her father had rung to say her mother had died.
I'm never going to be able to approach a water jump again, am I? I'm never going to ride cross-country again, because every course has a water jump
. Then her mind went completely blank and still. She could hear birds chirping, the quiet whoosh of cars out on the highway, the gentle slap of the dogs' tails on the timber below them. But other than these observations, she had nothing else going on in her head.

Jessica felt as if she'd been punched in the ribs. She was no longer fighting for breath, but there was an ache, not too dissimilar from when she'd been dumped by her first boyfriend in year eleven. He'd just casually said with a shrug that he liked Mia Stevens more now. Jessica had stood there blinking with the same ache deep within her.

She needed Steve. He always knew how to calm her down, how to make her feel loved. She'd had plenty of boyfriends since Paul Bowman, but Steve had been different from the start, even if it had taken her ages to believe his assurances that he wouldn't leave her. They'd never sat down and discussed previous relationships at any great length, agreeing that what was important was theirs – the past was done; the present and the future were what warranted thinking about. When it came down to it, what you needed was someone who quietly and calmly supported you – even if they didn't agree – someone you could safely navigate the choppy waters of life with. Jessica was beginning to see that the tough love approach of her father wasn't quite all it was cracked up to be. Sure it had toughened her up, but thank goodness she hadn't married someone like him. She felt safe, taken care of, with Steve. Right now she craved to be wrapped in the arms of her kind, rational, gentle but strong husband and hear him say what she was feeling was normal and that whatever decision she made would be the right one. And that's what he would say, wasn't it?

God, everyone will think me a complete wuss, giving up eventing after only one major accident
. The Olympians over the years who had got back on and competed with dislocated shoulders and broken bones had really set the bar high. But there it was, the key to it all: they'd got right back on, straight away. Their adrenaline had kept them going and ensured their confidence remained intact.

She could probably build hers up again if she could have had her father by her side. She'd trusted him implicitly and had needed him to drive her beyond where she thought she could go. There was no one out there she trusted that much. Maybe she could try to find herself a new instructor, someone to take her father's place. But she knew there was no one on earth who'd be willing to push her like he had. And anyway, the cloud of litigation that hung over all instructors these days meant there was always an understanding that they couldn't bully you into anything. For Jessica to get back to where she had been and over her fear, she'd need that motivation – a lot of it.

If she could block out the pain, could she ride in plaster? Probably, but that might do more harm than good – to Prince, not her. She had him so finely tuned she'd totally muck him up with one leg feeling so different. And the additional weight of the plaster would unbalance her.

She sighed. The best she could do was to pay someone to keep him in work at a reasonable standard, even if the thought of someone else messing with him irked her. And she really didn't think they could justify the cost. What a bloody mess!

Jessica's heart pounded slowly but forcefully behind her ribs.
I'm done
, she thought. She took a deep breath.
The horses have to go.
A lump rose into her throat and a wash of tears filled her eyes then began spilling; first one at a time and then in a rush, down her cheeks. She leant forwards, put her head in her hands and sobbed.

It was the dogs burrowing under her arms, their wet noses tickling her skin, that finally stemmed her tears and brought her head back up and into the daylight. She couldn't help smiling weakly at them. She dragged her sleeves down her arms, wiped them across her face and then reassured the dogs she was okay, would be okay.

She looked up at the horses wandering the paddocks, grazing, not a care in the world. She'd miss them, she thought, her throat catching again and a fresh batch of tears gathering, but they wouldn't miss her – as long as they were fed and well looked after, they would be fine.

When the sun went behind a bank of clouds, highlighting the chill in the air, Jessica went back inside, where she and the dogs settled onto the couch. She turned on the television, more for its soothing presence than anything else. With a heavy heart she picked up her latest
Horse Deals
magazine to start trying to get a good idea of what price to put on her horses.

Jessica was dozing with the
Horse Deals
magazine and a notepad and pen on her lap when Steve arrived home, the sound of the front door banging shut startling her slightly.

‘Hi,' Jessica called.

‘Hi,' he replied, looking a little flustered, ‘Sorry I took so long. I'll just get everything unloaded.'

After making a number of trips back and forth between the ute and the kitchen, dumping green eco-shopping bags, he kissed Jessica hello. ‘Sorry, took a lot longer than I thought it would. But I do come bearing gifts – well a loan, actually,' he said, producing a handful of DVDs. ‘From the library,' he explained, handing them to her.

‘Thanks.'

‘Hey, what's this?' he asked, nodding at her lap where the pad of paper was sitting on the closed magazine. He seemed perplexed. ‘You looking at buying another horse?' He was used to seeing her flick through the magazine each month, but not post-its poking out from pages, and certainly not a pad bearing notes and figures.

‘No, selling two,' Jessica said quietly, and continued examining the DVDs, pretending to read the blurbs. Part of her hoped Steve hadn't heard her. Saying it out loud caused a lead weight to drop in the pit of her stomach. It was the right decision. She knew it was. But that didn't make it any easier.

Steve sat down on the couch opposite. ‘Why?'

‘Because I'm never going to be able to ride cross-country again.'

‘That's being a bit melodramatic, isn't it? It's only a fractured ankle.'

‘Not when the very thought of a water jump gives me nightmares. Literally.'

‘It's been your dream since you were a kid – you can't give up. Not like this. You're just having a crisis of confidence. Quite understandable. You've probably got some minor post-traumatic stress.'

‘It's too big to deal with on my own,' Jessica said, knowing she was being vague and petulant, but unable to stop herself.

‘What about seeing a psychiatrist or a psychologist, or someone; get some professional help.'

‘But Dad was always there …'

‘Well, he's not now. But I am. You tell me what I can do to support you and I'll do it. I can stand there and yell at you all you like.'

Jessica rolled her eyes at his attempted joke. She wasn't in the mood. ‘There's a bit more to it than that.'

‘I know, I was kidding. I'll swot up, read all your books. I'll be your coach.'

Jessica shook her head slowly. ‘It wouldn't be the same. I appreciate you wanting to help, I really do. But I know I can't do it without Dad.'

‘Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence!'

Jessica's heart lurched. But she didn't know what to say. It was the truth. No matter what Steve did, it would never be the same as having her father coach her. He was too kind, for a start. Tears welled in her eyes.

‘I'm sorry,' Steve said, leaping up and going over to her. The dogs got off the couch and he sat down, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight. ‘But it's frustrating. I love you. I'm here for you. You don't have to go it alone. I'm trying to help, to stop you making the biggest mistake of your life.'

‘I know. And I'm sorry, but I've just got to face reality.'

‘And anyway, since when has Jessica Harrington née Collins ever used the word “can't”?' Steve said, sounding genuinely aghast. ‘You can do anything you put your mind to. You're just spooked and in pain. Like I've said, don't make any rash decisions. You don't need to make
any
decisions, just enjoy some downtime and get better.'

‘We could use the money.'

‘Of course we could; we can always use more money. But I'd rather it not be at the expense of your happiness.'

‘Perhaps this is all a sign to start trying for a baby.'

‘Oh. Right. Well, that's a little from left field,' he said, clearly caught off guard. ‘Maybe it is time, but it doesn't mean you have to give up your passion. And certainly not right now. Plenty of your fellow competitors have kids.'

‘But wouldn't you worry about something happening to me – something serious?'

‘Darling, I worry about something serious happening to you every time you get on a horse, let alone head off with the float. But it's your choice to ride, and I'm not about to stand in your way.'

‘Well selling them is my choice.'

‘But why? And it had better not be because you feel guilty about having me do the feeds and rugging, because that would be a cop out. I'm fine doing it.'

‘Look, I honestly don't see myself ever having the guts to ride cross-country again – especially on Prince.'

‘You've got Beau. Just do dressage on Prince.'

‘I don't want to do just dressage.'

‘Can't you drop Prince back a few levels and work at getting your confidence back?'

‘And admit defeat? I'd be the laughing stock.'

‘And giving up horses altogether isn't admitting defeat? How is it any different? It's still giving in to your fears.' He was clearly becoming exasperated. ‘Obviously it's totally up to you, but you've had horses since before you could walk, and I know for a fact you'll be miserable without them.'

‘But I can't do it without Dad,' she said again, tears welling, her chin beginning to wobble.

‘Of course you can,' Steve said.

‘I can't even picture myself riding cross-country without breaking into a sweat. And Prince and Beau are too valuable to just have sitting in the paddock doing nothing.'

‘And you really wouldn't want to do dressage or show jumping?'

‘No, but even if I did, they're good all-rounders, but not perfect for either discipline on its own.'

‘Sorry, I just don't get it. What you're saying is it's really all or nothing?'

‘I guess I am.'

‘But hang on, don't you sometimes use Prince during lessons, for demonstrations?'

‘I'm giving up instructing too.'

‘But you love working with the kids. And they love you.'

‘I can't instruct someone to do what I wouldn't do myself – that would be completely hypocritical. Anyway, there are plenty of good instructors around.'

‘I suppose if you did regret it you could get more horses down the track. But parting with Prince and Beau?' He shook his head. ‘I couldn't part with Laurel and Hardy. They're family.'

‘Don't make me feel worse than I already do. It's hard, but it's business.'

‘No, it's not, not from where I'm sitting,' Steve said. ‘All I can see is you throwing in the towel too easily. Quite frankly, I'm wondering where the gutsy girl I married, who was here three days ago, went. How many times have I heard your father yell, “You're all right, just get back on”? Spraining your wrist seriously didn't stop you.'

‘I got kicked; it wasn't a fall. And it wasn't a water jump. All cross-country courses have a water jump.'

‘So I get out the front-end loader and build you some smaller versions to work with.'

Jessica's heart went out to him. He was trying so hard to help. It was lovely he cared so much, but there was really nothing he could say to convince her. She'd made up her mind. He wasn't the one having the nightmares.

The phrase ‘things happen in threes' came to her and Jessica suddenly realised she'd had three signs: the fall and injury, the offer by Sharon Parks to buy Prince, and her nightmares and the anxiety attack.