Leap of Faith (6 page)

‘Oh, I didn't realise you were starting straight away.'

‘I'm just doing a couple of hours' orientation this afternoon and then I start properly in the morning. At this stage Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but I'm hoping it will become Tuesdays and Thursdays as well if the farmers have a good season.'

‘Well, good luck with it. I look forward to hearing all about it.'

‘Yeah, right, how many bags of chaff and how many bales of hay such and such has bought – very exciting stuff.'

‘It's probably going to be a whole lot more interesting than what I'll be getting up to in the next six weeks.'

‘Good point. Look, I'd better run. But I'm so relieved you're okay. I'll be over as soon as I can, but do let me know if there's anything you need. Other than more drugs – I'll put them in my bag right now before I forget.'

‘Thanks, Tiff, that would be brilliant. And thanks so much for the call. Good luck with the new job.'

‘Thanks. See you soon.'

‘See ya.'

Jessica hung up smiling. A chat with Tiffany always brightened up the dullest of moods. And she couldn't help being pleased at the prospect of more pain relief without stepping out into the big wide world – her head was now pounding as well as her leg. She looked across at her handbag, wondering if she could get the end of the crutch into the strap and drag it within reach without falling off the couch. Maybe? She was just making her first attempt when Steve came in, followed by the two dogs.

‘Hey, don't you dare. I'll get it,' he said, seeing what she was up to. ‘So, have you managed a nice rest?'

‘No, the bloody phone rang!'

‘Oh, who was it?'

‘Tiff. It was wonderful to speak to her, but I'm in pain, tired and cranky. And bored,' she added, pouting.

‘What am I going to do with you for six weeks?' he said, putting her handbag on the coffee table before sitting down and wrapping both arms around her. It was so comforting that Jessica felt her throat constrict.

‘Shoot me,' she said into his chest.

‘I'm ready for a kip myself,' Steve said, ignoring Jessica's comment. He kissed the top of her head and let out a weary sigh. ‘Horses are fine, float is empty and cleaned out. Is that all for now, m'lady?'

‘Thank you. Yes, thanks so much.'

Steve got up wearily and went and stood beside the second couch where the two dogs were now sprawled without even the good grace to look guilty.

‘Come on, you two, off,' Steve said, and waved his arm at them.

With two harrumphs they were off and lying on the hard floor – looking miffed. Steve lay down on the vacated lounge.

Jessica closed her eyes. The room was quiet except for the gentle rustle of trees, the woody melodic tone of the bamboo wind chime out under the verandah and the squelch of Steve on leather as he got himself settled. Finally he was breathing evenly, lulling her into the blissful no-man's land of neither being quite asleep nor quite awake.

After a few minutes she became aware of bells ringing and the humming of voices, but couldn't make herself concentrate. She fell into a deeper sleep.

The sound of a bang registered in the depths of Jessica's mind. She didn't think she'd completely gone to sleep but now, as she started to fully wake, she realised there were no other sounds except for the heavy breathing of the dogs on the floor. She reluctantly opened her eyes, unwilling to let go of the nice relaxed feeling of slumber, though she knew it was sort of artificial thanks to the painkillers she'd taken. She actually now felt quite groggy.

She was slightly startled by movement nearby. And then Steve was leaning over her.

‘Hello sleepyhead,' he said, planting a kiss on her forehead.

‘Where were you?' Jessica asked.

‘Just went and checked on the horses,' he said, perching himself on the arm of the couch.

‘How are they?'

‘All good. I brought Beau in, put night rugs on both of them, did their mixes, and put some Betadine on Prince's legs.'

God, Steve was exceeding all her expectations. Jessica had been prepared to ease back on rugging to make life easier for him. Would it be pushing things to ask him to swap rugs morning and night?

‘Oh you're wonderful. Thanks so much. But it's a lot of work.'

‘You do it.'

‘Yes, because they are my horses – they're not yours.'

‘Well, you're dedicated to them and I'm dedicated to you, so you just tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it.'

Jessica's throat tightened. ‘It really means a lot. Thanks, Steve.' If she didn't think she'd dissolve into tears, she would have hugged him. She was being ridiculous. ‘How do they look?'

‘The scrapes? Good – drying out and starting to scab over nicely. They really are quite superficial. And he didn't seem to mind me messing about with them. Oh, and Tiffany called again, among others. I've invited her for dinner, if that's okay.'

‘Fine with me – you're the one who'll have to do everything,' she said, with a wry smile and arched eyebrows. Jessica didn't question why Tiffany had rung Steve as well as her; her friend probably just wanted to double-check with him to see if there was anything she could do, just like Jessica would have done with Todd if the situations were reversed. She swallowed down the sadness. She missed him and their happy little foursome.

‘Who else called?'

‘Someone from the organising committee, and Bob Oakley.'

Jessica shuddered. Bob Oakley had had a crush on her for years and had planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips while offering his congratulations at a comp a little while ago.

‘Oh, and Vanessa and Andrew Birch stopped by. You didn't hear them?'

‘No. What did they want?'

‘Wanted to know if Prince was for sale. God, the nerve! Vultures! You'll only be out a few months.'

‘What did you say?'

‘Thanked them for visiting, said he wasn't for sale and that you were resting. Hope that was okay.'

Jessica stayed silent. Was this a sign she
should
be thinking about selling? No, that would break her heart.

‘Well, I'd better get cracking if I'm to have something to feed you two lovely ladies. You can come over and settle yourself at the table and keep me company. We're having shepherd's pie, and you're in charge of peeling the potatoes and then mashing them.'

Jessica raised her hand to her head in mock salute before retrieving her crutches and pushing herself up from the couch and onto them. Steve waited and picked up the cushion she'd had her cast resting on, and her almost empty water bottle. Over at the table he dragged the chair out from the end and laid the pillow on it.

‘Come on, you need to keep that leg elevated,' he said, patting the pillow.

Jessica felt strangely childlike as Steve placed the refilled bottle of water, a chopping board and knife, two bowls – one with potatoes in it and the other water – a peeler, a bottle of hand sanitiser and a roll of paper towel in front of her. She half expected him to wash her hands and clean her face for her and then put a tissue to her nose and tell her to blow. She almost laughed out loud at the thought, but stifled it. She was very lucky he was being so good – plenty of husbands might not have been.

She enjoyed watching Steve expertly making his way around the kitchen. Not that it was a rare sight – he often cooked. The shepherd's pie, complete with copious amounts of grated cheese on top, was soon in the oven and now Steve leaned against the bench enjoying a long sip of wine and taking a break before tackling the garlic bread while Jessica set the table – well, if that's what you could call sliding a knife, fork and spoon on a napkin across the table in the general direction of three places.

Jessica had rejected his offer of a glass of the red wine he'd opened. Tiffany was right, it wasn't wise to mix alcohol with the pain medication, confirmed by the label on the box. She didn't think her stomach would cope with the acidity anyway; she was already feeling the churning that might lead to diarrhoea. It was hard enough getting to the loo to pee without the added inconvenience of the urgency of that side of things as well. No, she'd be careful to eat plenty and keep her stomach lined. Too bad if she put on a few kilos; she'd soon lose them when she got back in the saddle.

Jessica had always been lean, but well covered. Her long legs looked good in jodhpurs and distracted from the bit of a pot belly that had always been her nemesis, but which she'd learnt to live with thanks to Steve's regular assurances that he loved her just the way she was. It had become an on-going joke between them since they'd watched
Bridget Jones's Diary
together. Steve had never meant to make her laugh the first time he said it, and was confused when she did. She'd had to explain the Bridget Jones reference, but he didn't fully get it until she made him watch the movie soon after. Now whenever he said the words, he did a fine Colin Firth impression. While it was a joke between them, Jessica had no doubts that Steve meant every word of what he said. That was another of the things she loved about him – he was real.

‘What?' Steve said, catching her smiling over at him.

‘Nothing, just thinking how cute you look in that pinny and how sexy your command of the kitchen is.' He'd grabbed the first apron in the top of the drawer, which happened to be a frilly, flowery one Jessica had been given by her mother as a gift at her bridal shower. He grabbed the bottom of his apron and held it between his thumbs and forefingers, and curtsied. Jessica chuckled and was looking around for something safe to throw at him when there was a friendly double toot of a car horn and headlights flashed across the window.

‘Here, you can do the garlic bread for being so cheeky,' Steve said, bringing over everything she'd need. He kissed her on the top of her head before continuing to the door, wiping his hands on his apron.

Jessica paused in her chopping of garlic and grinned, hearing Tiffany tease Steve about his apron. She pictured him doing another curtsy. She turned to see Tiffany slap playfully at his arm as she let out a hearty laugh.

‘Very good,' Tiffany said. ‘And what's this – dogs in the house? Steve, you're turning soft in your old age.' She paused to ruffle the ears of the dogs now standing beside her.

‘Guilty as charged,' Steve said cheerfully.

They'd always got on well and, like Steve had commented only a few days ago, Tiffany hadn't lost her sense of humour despite losing Todd. Jessica thought that was more about her friend faking it until she made it, though; there was a tightness behind the smile that didn't totally include her eyes. Men didn't tend to be as observant as women with these things, she thought, but Steve was often the exception. Sometimes Jessica wondered if he'd seen Tiffany's pain too, and was playing along.

‘Some prescription drugs and books and magazines for you, oh injured one,' Tiffany said, dumping her armful and handbag at the end of the table. ‘Nothing like a bit of A-list gossip to keep you going.' She wrapped Jessica in her arms from behind and leant around to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Looks like someone's got a slave,' she said, nodding at the makings of garlic bread.

‘Tiffany, let me introduce my sous chef,' Steve said, sweeping his arm in Jessica's direction after placing a round pie plate with plastic tub of cream on top onto the bench.

‘Thanks so much for coming,' Jessica said, holding onto her friend's arms. ‘And for all the goodies.' Jessica tried not to drool at the thought of more Panadeine Forte. She liked the snuggly feeling it gave her – aside from the pain relief – and was probably getting a little too attached already.

‘Are you kidding? As if I'm going to pass up free food – not to mention seeing Steve in his frilly pinny,' Tiffany said with another laugh. But Jessica could read the subtext: anything was better than sitting around in her tiny, drab rental on her own.

‘You're always welcome when you bring apple pie and double cream,' Steve said.

‘You shouldn't have,' Jessica said in a serious, scolding tone. She knew how tight Tiffany was doing it financially and how desperately she didn't want to have to call on her parents. They had insisted on loaning her a few thousand for the deposit on the rental, and to help with removal costs. Jessica had urged her friend to accept it – pointing out that the offer was as much about them as it was about her; helping was what parents did. Tiffany had compromised by accepting the money as a loan, rather than the originally offered gift.

‘So how was the trial run?' Jessica asked as Tiffany pulled a chair out and sat down.

‘Great. I know it's nothing flash but, you know, I think I'm really going to like it there – and not just because of the staff discount. The people seem really nice and it's a lot more interesting than I thought it would be.'

‘That's great.'

‘What's this about a new job?' Steve asked, taking the finished, foil-wrapped garlic bread to the oven. ‘Why didn't I know about it?'

‘I've got a few days at Millers' Fodder.'

‘That's great. Well done, you,' he said, giving her a hug.

‘Well, it's just three days for now, and the money's nothing to crow about, but it's a start,' she said with a shrug.

‘I'll drink to that,' Steve said, pouring Tiffany a glass of wine and handing it to her.

‘Thanks,' she said.

Tiffany and Steve raised their wine glasses and Jessica her water tumbler, and they clinked glasses as Steve gave a toast in his lovely, deep, velvety voice.

‘To good friends,' he declared.

‘Yes, to good friends,' Tiffany and Jessica responded.
And absent ones,
Jessica silently added.

‘So what's the story with the dogs being inside?' Tiffany had taken a few sips of wine, put her glass down, and was now looking at the dogs snoozing on the floor.