“First things first,” she said. “If you tell either one of them, you’re fired.”
They both knew she meant Becky and Caroline.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“Try me,” she said.
Daniel suggested they have their talk over coffee.
“Right here is fine,” Maggie said. “I’m not done riding yet.”
“Gus seemed to be under the impression the horse was done for the day,” Daniel said.
“Is he the one who told you?”
She just wanted to be sure.
Daniel shook his head.
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes, Maggie, I am.”
Don’t sit down. Fight off the pain. Keep going.
“If you wanted to start riding again,” Daniel said, “why here and not at home? Why aren’t you training with me?”
“I don’t need a trainer right now,” she said. “I need a nanny.”
“But why here?”
“Because I don’t want them to know!” she said. “Because I don’t want them to see me like this.” She sighed and in a quieter voice said, “I didn’t want you to see, either, if you want to know the truth.”
“Maggie,” he said, “as Dr. Garry told you, if you get hurt now, it won’t be a month away from riding. It could be a whole year.”
She could feel heat rising up in her, mostly because she knew he was right. She’d always told Becky: When you’re right, you’re right.
But she kept her voice calm.
“It’s not your decision,” she said. “Not Mother’s, or Becky’s, or even Dr. Garry’s. It’s mine. The same as it will be my decision when I want to tell my mom or Becky. And that is why you are going to promise me that you’re not going to tell.”
“You will have to tell them eventually,” he said. “If they don’t find out the way I did.”
“Until I do,” she said, “I don’t want them looking at me like I’m a piece of my mother’s precious china.”
She looked at him.
“Okay?” she said.
She studied his face. Saw the hesitation before he answered, as if having a debate with himself Maggie could almost hear.
“Okay,” he said finally.
“You promise to keep my secret for now,” she said.
She knew it wasn’t close to being a question.
“If that is what you wish.”
“You’ve got your secrets, Daniel,” she said. “Now you get to carry around one of mine. I’ve got this. I do. And until I tell them, I don’t want you worrying about me.”
That got a smile out of him.
“Now that,” he said, “I cannot promise.”
“And I will make a promise to you,” she said. “I won’t jump until I’m sure I’m ready. I promise.”
They shook on it. At least her hands didn’t hurt.
He told her he would see her back at the barn, got into his car, and drove away. Maggie watched until the car disappeared. Then she limped inside the barn and told Gus she wanted to spend just a little more time in the ring.
“Could you wait about fifteen minutes so I can watch you?” he said. “I’ve got a quick conference call in the house about this horse in Kentucky we’ve been looking at.”
“I’m barely going to do more than walk,” Maggie said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” he said. “Because if I break you, your mother is going to be really mad at me.”
Seamus got Paladin ready, walked him out, got Maggie up, then Gus wheeled around the corner of the barn toward his house. When Maggie was sure he was gone, she urged the horse into a trot.
But when she got to the far end and turned him back around toward the barn, she didn’t hesitate.
Gave him one kick, and then another, telling him to pick up speed.
Then she was coming down the middle to where Gus had set up a small jump for his other riders, feeling as if she were flying, blocking out the fear now, oblivious to the pain she was still feeling, feeling herself smiling, even as she felt her breath coming as hard as the horse’s.
She jumped Paladin then.
Felt the jolt in her legs as he landed, but kept going, circling like it was a tight rollback.
Coming back around.
Jumped him again.
FIFTY-TWO
I WAS GETTING READY to ride Sky in competition, for the first time since the fall.
Second Friday after the Grand Prix. In a side ring today, not the International Arena. Meter 30 today, half what I’d jumped with Coronado. When I walked the course with Grandmother the top rail didn’t look much higher than a curb after what I’d been jumping with Coronado.