Monday continued

Ty woke with a start to Sugarfoot's rhythmic clip clopping on the hardwood floor outside his door.

"Shh Sugarfoot. Step lightly." Mrs. Bell whispered. The miniature pony snorted, low and short, in response.

"Come on my sweet. Let's go outside, have a little snack, then go back to bed."

He heard them walk away, human and horse, a bond so strong, one he didn't really understand, but delighted in just the same. Their footsteps took them into the living room, toward the front door which creaked open, then shut behind them. He smiled sleepily.

Amy's journal was open, face down, lying on his bare chest. He put his hand on the soft leather, his fingers gently stoking the embossed horse. Naturally, his mind went to her, wondering if she was sleeping, wondering if she dreaming of him.

"Oh shit." He said under his breath. He had missed night check. He had promised that he would do her chores, he owed her. He picked up his phone to text her. It was only just 4:15am, "Too early," he decided.

He turned over the journal and began to read again. Paper clipped to the next page was a white envelope that contained several receipts and a pay stub for her first two weeks: 20k with deductions for her apartment and food.

"Oh my god. 10k a week!" He muttered, impressed. Then he closed his eyes, sighed, then groaned, "And, I am a fucking ranch hand. Great."

After a few deep breaths, he turned back to her journal. Nestled there too were two postcards, one from the Eiffel Tower and another from Notre Dame Cathedral. The latter was addressed to him with a note. Clearly she never got around to mailing it.

"Ty. Next to the Canadian Rockies, Notre Dame cathedral is honestly the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Some day let's see it together. I miss you like crazy. I love you. Amy. xoxo."

His emotions swirled as he read on.

Amy's Journal Day 19

What an incredible day! The day started real early, overseeing the horses being loaded into trailers for the three hour transport to the Normandy equestrian facility that Ahmed had secured. After working two weeks straight, I got my first paycheck! :) On the way home, we went to the bank. This should help with the down payment.

"Yeah. That's some paycheck." He frowned. "Some down payment." Then he added. "Too bad you didn't tell me. Maybe we would have that ranch."

And, Ahmed called to give me the day off with strict instructions to be at the Normandy facility for dinner at 7 tomorrow evening. I just wanted to relax in bed, sleep, I was exhausted. But, Adela suggested, and somehow convinced me, to go with her to explore the city. She promised to be my tour guide. No time like the present she said.

Okay. Adela is sooo much like Lou it's insane. Not just in looks, style, smarts, organizational skills, but she is BOSSY. She actually scares me a little. Maybe she and Lou are twins separated at birth! :)

Ty laughed out loud.

Anyhow. I showered and dressed in my favorite outfit, my light blue jeans, dress cowboy boots, pink sweater. I thought that I looked pretty good. Think Ty would have approved!

He smiled. He knew that outfit, or at least those jeans, the ones with the horses in silver stitching on her back pockets, they hugged her behind just so.

Adela took one look, shook her head, No. Then she went into my room, went through my clothes and, of course, she picked something of Lou's, her skinny jeans, black turtleneck and pointy ankle boots. And then, just like Lou, bossy, she commanded, Wear this. I didn't argue. While I changed in the bathroom, she unpacked and repacked my bags for Paris and Normandy.

Its weird, I barely know her. I mean, I see her everyday for maybe 15 minutes each day. Yes, she takes my clothes to the cleaners, makes my lunch, gets my groceries. Yes, she has the keys to my apartment. Now she's telling me what to wear. Oh well. I figure she knows Paris fashion. Me? I am just a country girl from Canada. What do I know? Clearly nothing.

She lent me her black wool coat. Oh, and sunglasses. When I looked in the mirror, I felt sophisticated, grown up for a moment. But I then felt stupid, awkward. I kinda looked like I was a member of the mafia. I refused to wear the sunglasses. :)

Ty laughed.

Oh my gosh. She was so right. Paris is amazing.

First, Syed drove us to the Eiffel Tower, on the Champ de Mars. I tried to get Syed to join us, but he refused, said his job was to stay with the car. Adela, as it turns out, is an excellent tour guide. She told me everything about everything. That the Eiffel Tower is almost 1000 foot tall made of wrought iron. That the tower was constructed for the World's Fair in 1889 by Gustave Eiffel. That the Parisians call it the Iron Lady. That it used to be considered an eyesore. To me, it's a lacy, iron work of art and an engineering marvel. Incredible.

We had a breakfast of fresh fruit, cheese and crusty bread on the 2nd platform overlooking the square. I got Syed a little To Go snack. Then we took the lift to the 3rd platform, 900 some feet up, the view was spectacular. The crowds below looked like ants milling around.

Ty pulled out the postcard, examined the tower. "Pretty cool. I'd like see that some day." He added wistfully.

When we were done, Syed magically appeared at the curb. I asked him how he knew when to pick us up, he said it was his intuition. He was serious too. He was pleased with the snack.

"He bugged your phone Amy." He said. "Of course he knows."

Next, we went to Louvre Museum, which was originally built as a fortress in 1190 but now housed amazing works of art. A huge glass pyramid, surrounding by three smaller ones, was erected in the square just outside the museum. We saw Leonardo da Vinci's famous portrait of Mona Lisa, the armless sculpture Venus de Milo and so many other famous stunning works of art, a few that I knew of, most I didn't. The white marble statues of Marley's Horses, two huge rearing horses with their grooms, nude by the way, trying to restrain them were my favorite. The detail, proportion, of the horses, the fierce look carved on their faces, their manes and tails flowing were so incredible.

After that, we went to Notre Dame Cathedral, its spires, towers, gothic architecture. From the outside, the building was massive, intricate, just beautiful.

But, inside, the church was so magnificent, breathtaking, so moving. I can't even begin to describe it. The soaring ceiling, graceful arches, carved columns, intricate stained glass, flickering candles, black and white checkerboard marble floor, dimmed ornate chandeliers. The sun and blue skies streaming through the windows above made the ceiling glow blues and pinks in an intricate pattern. Behind the altar, a small choir, accompanied by haunting, almost mournful organ music, sang Ave Maria. A strange scent, woody, peppery with a little sweet, maybe from the candles, maybe from incense, floated through the air, making my stomach felt weird.

Ty studied the postcard, the picture of Notre Dame again. "Wow."

I felt small, insignificant, hushed surrounded by such beauty, grandeur. Such greatness built by human hands, dedicated to a higher power. For some reason beyond me, I felt compelled to pray, even though it's not my thing. So I sat in one of the wooden chairs lined up rows and columns, with hundreds of others, and silently prayed. Not with an actual prayer. I thought about home, but about Ty mostly. I thought about us. I hoped that the distance would make us grow fonder, and not just grow. My heart felt bruised, sad, empty. I miss Ty so much. So I prayed, truly prayed for help, for guidance. A saltiness burned my eyes.

"Amy." He whispered, his voice cracked. "Why didn't you..." he trailed off.

I honestly could have sat there all day. Adela had other ideas, motioned for me to follow her to the side of the sanctuary under the arches. Amongst rows and rows of flickering red devotional candles, there was a deposit box. We each put in an euro to light a candle. Adela said we should say a prayer to god so that we win the games. So I did. I put in one more euro for Ty.

He didn't know to think. As far as he knew, no one had ever prayed for him.

We had late, long lunch at a small cafe, La Rotisserie, where we shared crusty bread, soft cheeses called Reblochon and Camembert, poached pears, Escargot de Bourgogne..snails!! Surprisingly good, if I didn't think about SNAILS!

"Gross Amy." He shook his head.

Afterward Adela dragged me to my least favorite place on this earth, a clothing store! Her friend, Andrie, was the owner of l' Amant. Andrie reminded me of Lisa, worldly, stylish, beautiful, refined, gracious. She even smelled like Lisa, strangely enough. She kept calling me, petite amie, little sweetheart! We chatted in French, even though my high school French was rusty, I think I held my own.

"Huh? French, Amy?" Ty muttered, suitably impressed.

She showed me around her shop, took my measurements, told me to try on clothes. Ugh. In the end, they convinced me to buy a plain but soft, silky cream colored blouse, a pair of skinny black pants cropped just above my ankles, and brown tall boots, buttery soft. Tres chic! Ha.

"Is that the outfit you wore home?" He thought aloud.

As it was as such a pretty day, we walked around the city, saw lots of tree lined parks, cobblestone squares, tall monuments, incredible fountains, too many to name. When we got tired and cold, Syed magically showed up and took us to Hotel Lutetia to check in. The hotel rate was sooo crazy expensive, so Adela agreed to share a room with me and split the cost. By the time we got to the room, I was so beat, I just went straight to sleep in an enormous king sized bed with really soft sheets.

When I woke up, it was almost midnight. Adela was asleep next to me so I went out onto the balcony. From there, I could see Paris, its city lights shimmering on the River Seine waters. Lovely. Romantic. The sky was so clear, the air was very cold. It seemed like I could see forever.

I wish Ty was here with me, to hold me, warm me. I wish we could have experienced this together. Tried to call him, but no answer. So I texted him a selfie with Paris in the background instead. Maybe he'll text back. It's been a couple of days since we talked. :(

I miss home.

Ty frowned, tried to remember back. He pulled out his phone, scrolled through his texts and phone calls from that date, nothing. Weird.

He was startled by a quiet knock. "Come in." He said.

Mrs. Bell opened the door slightly, stuck her head in. "Ty. I saw your light. Everything okay?"

"Yes, everything is fine. This bed is so comfortable. Thank you."

She nodded. "I see you are reading it."

"Yeah. But I am only on Day 20. I have more than 100 entries to go." He replied, shaking his head.

"Any revelations?"

"Yeah. She loved Paris."

"Who doesn't? It's a magical, romantic city. Someday you and Amy should go together."

"That's what she said."

"What else?"

"She got paid a lot of money."

"Good for her!" Seeing his expression, she asked, "Don't you think that she deserve it, earn it?" She challenged him.

"Yes. Of course. It's just a lot of money." Then he added. "She worked hard. 14 hour days for two weeks straight. But she got paid a lot of money. A serious, crazy amount of money."

"Working 14 hours a day for 14 days straight doesn't leave much time for living. I should hope that they paid her very handsomely."

"I will never make that kind of money." He lamented. "Even after I become a vet."

She looked kindly at her honorary grandson. "Ty. There is more to life than money. Money does not equate to happiness or success."

"Sure. Easy to say when you have money." He muttered, sarcastically.

Mrs. Bell paused, registered his words, straightened, "Excuse me?"

Realizing that he just put his foot in his mouth, he said, "I'm sorry Mrs. Bell. That was a stupid thing to say. I wasn't thinking."

She stared at him, then softened a bit. "You are forgiven." Then she added. "Look Ty. I have lived a long life. Some of it with plenty of money and some without. When Mr. Bell and I were first married, we had nothing. We grew our own food, wore old clothes, but we held hands through it all, even danced under the moonlight. But, those were some of the best times of my life."

"After many years together, we finally had enough to be comfortable and without debt. Then he and my father died both within a year of each other, I inherited more money than I knew what to do with. I would give up every dime to have Mr. Bell and my father back in my life."

He nodded, then sighed.

"Ty. This isn't about me, what I have or not have." She paused. "This is about you and Amy."

He nodded.

"Ty. It's not a competition to see who can make the most money. Her success doesn't diminish yours. You can be proud of her accomplishments and your own at the same time."

"I guess."

"Okay. Well then. I have said more than enough." She sighed. "I am going back to bed. I need more beauty sleep."

"Good night. Mrs. Bell. I thank you for trying to knock some sense into me."

"Grandson. You do have a thick head." She said smiling, then padded down the hall to her room, shutting the door behind her.

He closed his own door, picked up his phone, quickly typed, "I am so sorry that I missed night check like I promised. I fell asleep, again. I am an idiot. I will be there at 7am to do ALL the morning chores." He pressed Send.

Then he added "I am reading your journal." Then pressed Send.

Amy woke to a ding, then another, from her phone. She sleepily glanced at her phone, read his text, immediately responded. "Okay. See you for coffee." Send.

He smiled as he began to read again.

Amy's Journal Day 20

Adela let me sleep in until ten! She ordered room service for us. We ate crepes with a sweet creamy filling, blueberries and strawberries, drank coffee and juice in bed. She told me a bit about her life, that she grew up Dubai, that she has one younger sister, that she attended college at New York University. See, more similarities with Lou. Crazy.

She is only 25 years old, just a few years older than me! She seems so worldly, so smart, so educated, so confident, so independent. I wish I was more like that.

I told her about me, about Heartland, grandpa, Lou, mom, dad, Spartan. Ty. Okay, I talked mostly about Ty and me. Our first meeting, our first kiss, our first date, our promise ring, getting engaged. How much I miss him. It was like I had diarrhea of the mouth.

He chuckled.

Funny. Adela listened, really listened and seemed interested. Kinda like Lou, before she was married. When we used to talk in bed about men. Anyhow. She said my pretty engagement ring deserved to be on a manicured hand. So, she whipped out her nail polish stuff and gave me one! Kinda like a Lou thing to do.

Truthfully, aside from talking with Syed on the ride to and from the Equiline facility, I hadn't really talked with anyone since arriving in Paris. Not Adela. Not Ahmed. I was so busy with the horses, schedules, plans and long days. And though I saw the grooms and Dr. Antar every day, all day, they almost always spoke in Arabic.

So it was nice to just talk.

During the three hour or so drive to Normandy, Adela got back to business, briefed me about the estate, facility, the stable and arena layout, and our accommodations.

Ahmed secured a 250 year old French Equestrian estate, Château de Chevaux Dansants (Dancing Horse Chateau)on 300 acres outside of Falsaise, approximately 30 minutes south of Caen and Stade d'Ornano where the jumping and dressage events for the Games will be held. Apparently, the estate until recently operated and was renowned as a stud farm for highend thoroughbreds, particularly, dressage and jumpers. The facility is equipped with a 54 horse stable, stud farm, veterinary clinic, two full jumping arenas, one inside, one out, and a series of fenced fields and pastures.

Ahmed and his personal staff will occupy the 20 bedroom mansion itself. Adela, Syed and I will live off premise, each in our own apartment in Falsaise. The riders, grooms and vet will live on the estate in quarters close to stables and inside arena.

She also laid out the general schedule from here until the games. For the next three months, Mondays through Fridays are reserved for training, Saturday for competition and Sunday for horse scouting. The month of the games will focus exclusively on training and prep for the games.

Tonight's dinner at Château de Chevaux Dansants was a welcoming of sorts for Ahmed and the team to the Normandy region, Falsaise in particular. As Falsaise was small, less than 9000 residents, the presence of a Saudi prince in the town was important political and economically. The mayor, Henri Horne, was set to give the key to the city to Ahmed. Several members of the royal family, other dignitaries and the press would be there. Adela say I must be charming, polite, smile and answer questions succinctly. She made me very nervous. I just knew I would do something stupid. I

Just before 5pm, we arrived in Falsaise, a pretty old world city, anchored by a castle, Château de Falsaise and a stone wall surrounding the city, both built in the 13th century. My fourth floor apartment is big and bright with tall beamed ceilings, lots of windows, filled with warm antiques and modern amenities. And, there's a balcony overlooking the l'Ante river and rolling hills. I think I will like it here. Maybe Ty will visit.

The entrance to Château de Chevaux Dansants was flanked by stone pillars, intricate iron fencing and tall, slender Italian Cypress trees. Syed stoped at the guard shack briefly, but was waved on by the armed guard. I recognized one of them from the jet. He nodded to me through the backseat window. Adela suggested, so I wore Lou's black dress, a simple crepe sheath with a round neck and three quarter length sleeves.

The Château is a something out of a French princess movie, stately, manicured, beautiful, fully lit up against the darken sky. Syed drove up to the manor, a gloved man, opened my door, guided me to the double wooden door. Ahmed was standing there waiting, smiling. It was good to see him, a friendly face.

Ty huffed. "Asshole."

Before dinner, there was a brief ceremony in the grand living room. The mayor, several men in a long Arabic dress, Dr. Antar, Ahmed, the riders, and maybe 20 or so others. There were a few reporters as well. Mostly, I just stood with the team smiling. At the end, one reporter asked me about being the only woman. Another asked me about Emir and his health. Aside from that, I was mostly ignored.

The dining room was spectacular. Crystal chandeliers, beautiful flowers, gleaming marble floors. The intricately carved table was set with china, crystal stemware and more silverware than I knew what to do with. I sat between the mayor's wife, a skinny woman who didn't eat anything and a chubby banker who ate everything with great gusto! Mostly the dinner was boring, though the food was incredible. The Boeuf Bourguignon, a beef dish in a rich wine sauce, was so, so good. I wanted to ask the mayor's wife if I could have hers!

Ty laughed. "My horsey girl."

Finally I got to talk to Ty tonight. His voice sounded so good, it made me miss him even more. He and Caleb started a business, buying and selling rodeo and working horses. With Futurity winnings and the sale of Charger, they were able to buy several more horses. He wants to get ahead and make a lot of money. I guess he's forgotten about the ranch because he didn't mention it. I hope he didn't bite off too much with school and Scott.

I didn't think you cared about the ranch. You didn't mention it either.

I told him about a little about Paris and Normandy, though he didn't seem very interested. We didn't talk long, bed for me and a buyer for him. I miss him like crazy. I miss home.

"Oh Amy. I was interested. But we had that buyer breathing down our necks. And your dad." He sighed. "I should have tried harder."

Amy's Journal Day 21

My first day training the horses and their riders at Château de Chevaux Dansants started very early-5am, I just couldn't sleep for the excitement. There are four primary riders and one provisional (Malik). All the riders had been to the Olympics previously except Malik, though none had won any medals. Each rider is assigned two horses to start but the parings will change as each pair gels or not. Here are the match ups.

Ahmed - Emir, Zeus

Hassan - Jameela, Apollo

Omar - Juliet, Fierce

Jamal - Rein, Lorenzo

Malik - new and rotating horses.

In the end, only four riders and four horses will go to the games to compete in the team and individual events.

I learned that the Saudi Arabia (SA) team does not develop their horses from colts, instead they go around the world purchasing exceptional horses with excellent winning records, solid bloodlines and champion pedigree. Ahmed says their goal is to buy proven quality. It's quite expensive but so is years of training a young horse that may not perform adequately and prove to be a disappointment. Sunday's are reserved for horse scouting.

Of the eight horses, Emir was the only exception. He was started as foal, trained and ridden by Ahmed's father.

For my training plan, each horse and rider pair will have intensive jump training and practice for 60-75 minutes a day. Each pair will also do other types of work such a free jump, Liberty ground work and just plain old freestyle riding in the field. The last three are very important developing the relationship between the horse and rider. As a team we will review videos weekly to spot and resolve issues in position, reining, etc.

This morning at 6, I met with the riders and grooms to review the daily training schedule. Each schedule will be posted at least 2 days in advance to allow for swapping by riders or grooms. Changes submitted on the day of trading will be rejected. The riders especially didn't not like my rule and started complaining. Ahmed, thankfully, backed me up. I'm not sure though that I made any friends through.

As the day progressed, the riders adhered to the schedule and instructions. Except when Ahmed wasn't there. Then they would only speak in Arabic, laugh. Not English. Sometimes they would say Aymi balad rifi which Syed told me means - Amy the country bumpkin. It was a difficult day.

I stayed late to do Liberty work with the horses. Fierce, Emir and Zeus were my star pupils. Good way to end my day.

"Ah. Liberty work. I miss watching you do that."

By 8, I was in my apartment in my pjs. Adela came by to check on me as she heard from Syed that it was a rough day. So she listened as I told her the high and low lights. She asked me what I'd do different. I told her that I honestly didn't know. Maybe I'd ask Ahmed to not to step in. But that I had to think about it.

She suggested yoga to help relieve my stress. Adela showed me some basic yoga poses...mountain, seated forward fold, dog, cat, cow, cobra, child, happy baby, triangle, tree...and breathing techniques. Surprisingly I felt a bit relaxed after our impromptu session. So we decided to do a yoga together after work a couple of times a week.

Lou called tonight from Maggie's. She sounded stressed. Things with Peter aren't so great. I suggested yoga, that it helped me. She said she didn't have the kind of time that I did. :( like I was just sitting around doing nothing.

Everyone else is doing fine. Even Ty is doing better, not as mopey. Apparently he comes to dinner most nights. Georgie is doing a good job with my chores and wants to take on boarders. I tried to tell about Paris and Normandy, but she wasn't in the "mood" to hear about my glamorous life.

Called Ty, left him a message. I'm sure he's studying or something. Miss him.

Ty read through her journal entries to Day 67. Every day seemed to be the same grind, go to work early, work hard trying to break through, work late, go to bed early. It didn't seem to let up. Saturdays were reserved for competition which the team would come in third or did not place. Sundays were reserved for scouting for horses to buy.

Her journal entries didn't include elaborate dinners, fancy clothes, crazy parties or exotic placed. Instead, they were detailed accounts of her work day, her routine, pay stubs, receipts, and the like. Though she wrote about how difficult things had become or how lonely she was, she never mentioned that when they talked or in her emails and texts. And, as time went on, it was clear from her journal that they talked less and less.

Amy's Journal Day 67

Today was horrible. Omar was jumping Fierce in the usual 60 minute jump session. It was late in the day, everyone was tired, cranky, not looking forward to tomorrow's competition. Fierce clipped a rail with his back hoof. Omar started screaming, swearing in Arabic, whipping Fierce's rear haunch, hard, and repeatedly. Every time the whip hit, Fierce reacted, became more and more agitated, tried to get away. I yelled to Omar to stop to no avail. Then, Fierce reared up with Omar still in the saddle. Fierce toppled over backwards and fell on Omar knocking him unconscious.

"Oh my god Amy. How horrible." Ty gasped.

Fierce became even more irrational, crazed, running over and through jumps, trying to escape the arena. Ahmed was there, he saw the whole thing. He called for an ambulance. He called Dr. Antar to come to tranquilize Fierce. It was pure chaos.

The grooms quickly moved Omar from the arena to the safety of the office, leaving me alone with Fierce in the arena. My heart was beating hard, but I tried to calm myself. I hoped that if I was calm, he would be too. He eyed me nervously, held his head high, snorted and pawed the ground. Standing my ground, I talked to him, told him that he was safe, reassured him. But, he continued to stare me down, pace, stomp. So I sat down, right in the middle of the arena, watched him. He took off, ran full speed around the edge of the arena several times. He came to an abrupt stop, facing me about 20 feet away. His posture started to shift, calm, his breathing slowed, his eyes lost their fury. Slowly, step by step he moved closer. I held my hand out, with a mint in it, which he took. He nudged me. I slowly stood to pet him, told him he was a good boy. He let me take his rein.

"Good work. My Miracle Girl."

His haunch was swollen, welted, though no blood was drawn.

By the time Dr. Antar arrived, Fierce was calm. He wanted to tranquilized him anyhow. I firmly said No, that I would not allow it.

Then he said something like...Who do you think you are? You are not a doctor of veterinary medicine. You are just a country bumpkin. You have no standing or authority to disagree with me.

Ahmed fired him on the spot. Dr. Antar tried to argue, but Ahmed would not listen, so he just left the arena.

Ahmed apologized to me. I told him that we needed Dr. Antar, that he was a good vet, that he should not have been fired for a difference of opinion. That everyone was exhausted and needed and deserved a break. Then he surprised me when he said something like. Amy. You are the head trainer. You decide when the team needs a break, you control the training schedule. And Dr. Antar works for you. You decide his responsibilities and evaluate his performance.

Then he abruptly left the arena without even a goodbye. I was in shock.

I stabled Fierce, then I called Dr. Antar, asked him to stay on. He seemed so relieved, but hesitant. I told him to meet me at Fierce's stall so we could tend to Fierce's wounds.

As I approached the office I could hear grooms and riders alike talking fast, excitedly in Arabic. When I entered they went silent. I asked about Omar. Malik said that Omar had regained consciousness but the ambulance took him to the hospital for examination and observation anyhow.

I told them that I had made a change to the schedule and that I gave them the weekend off. At first they didn't believe me. Hassan even asked if Ahmed approved it. I said that I was the head trainer, that I make the schedule, and that I gave them the weekend off. They were welcomed to work the weekend, if they liked. They looked at each other, then thanked me. They left quickly. They probably were afraid I'd change my mind.

"Good for you Amy."

Dr. Antar examined Fierce's haunch. Together we decided on the course of action, a poultice of herbs and antibiotics and secured it to his hip. We fed him an early dinner combined with chamomile and valerian.

"I miss that. Us working together." Ty whispered.

We talked about what had happened that afternoon. More importantly, we talked about Fierce and what to do going forward. We agreed that if Omar was going to ride Fierce in the games and be successful, a lot of work would have to done to fix the damage. We weren't sure if there was enough time.

I left work early today, at 6. :) Syed drove directly to SAFrance, a restaurant that he liked to frequent, to get dinner to go. When I walked into Omar's hospital room, he was not all happy to see me. When I showed him the takeout from SAFrance, his mood shifted. He must have been hungry.

So we ate chicken kabsa and vegetable sambusak, jallab to drink and basbousa for dessert. And talked. Thankfully, he was not seriously injured, he would be released in the morning and to resume work starting Monday. He was pleased that they all had the weekend off.

Omar told me about growing poor, stealing grain to eat from a nearby thoroughbred breeding ranch, Jomonte Farms owned by Ahmed's father, Prince Khalid al Saeed. When he was ten, he was caught by the head groom. Khalid took pity in him and gave him a job mucking stalls. Omar grew up under Khalid's wing, earned his way up the groom's ladder, became a very skilled rider and jumper and eventually earned a spot on Khalid's competition team. From the way he talked, Omar loved, respected and very much missed Khalid as did the other member of the team. Though he didn't say it, he clearly didn't have the same connection to Ahmed.

I shared my own upbringing, my mom, of course, Heartland, my love of horses, my belief in the bond between rider and horse. About potential and second chances.

He confided that he and the others riders were worried about losing the games, disappointing and embarrassing their country and the ramifications to themselves and their families.

I asked him if Ahmed had the same worries.

He explained that Khalid and Ahmed are apart of Saudi Arabia's royal family, which has almost 15,000 descendants. The head of the family is the crowned King Mohammad al Saeed. The family owns and runs the country's state owned oil company worth trillions of dollars. Although very rich, Ahmed is not crowned prince nor is he in line for king.

"Huh. I wondered about that myself."

He said Ahmed's worries are even greater than his own. That his stature and place in the family is riding on their success in the games.

We talked about a bit about Fierce and what happened. We debated whether Fierce should be partnered with another rider. In the end, he agreed to try my methods with Juliet and Fierce for a week. We would decide the pairing after that.

I learned so much from Dr. Antar and Omar by just talking, one on one. I have been so busy trying to do my job that I didn't try to create any kind of bond with the team. Starting now, that's going to change.

When we returned home,

"Home? Since when did France become home? What about Heartland?" Ty shook his head, sighed.

Adela was waiting for me with plane tickets to Rome and packed bags. As I write this journal entry I am on a chartered jet to Italy. In the morning Ahmed and I will be previewing horses that are slated to be in the International Horse Show. My first trip to Italy.

Tried to call Heartland and Ty to tell them my news. No answer. Guess everyone is busy.

"Hmm. Italy? I don't remember hearing about that trip." He muttered scrolled thru his text messages with her. "Nothing."

Amy's Journal Day 68

Our flight landed in Rome at the Leonardo da Vinci International Airport not much past midnight. A limousine pick us up at the tarmac and whisked us to our hotel Hotel di Martini near the Piazza di Siena where the show is held. The hotel was named for Simone Martini, a famous 12th century Gothic painter of frescos and larger than life works of art. He was born in Siena, a walled Italian city in Tuscany known for its architecture, art, cuisine and il Palio di Siena, bareback horse race held twice a year in the city's cobblestone courtyard. The hotel had an original Martini oil painting depicting the Virgin mother holding the baby Jesus hung in its lobby. The painting's intense details and vivid colors were amazing. It's hard to fathom it's 800 years old.

His morning needs suddenly called. He pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, dirty, reeking of sweat, grimacing, almost gagging at his own stench. "Whew!"

He quickly crossed hall into the bath, closing the door behind. On the white marble top stand, Mrs. Bell had left some clothes, presumably Mr. Bell's, a toothbrush, paste, soap, towels. After his urgent needs were met, he showered, hanging his head under the hot water spray, trying to clear his mind, scrubbing away yesterday's grime.

Towel dried, he sorted through the clothes. On top was a soft, worn pair of 517 Levi jeans, bootcut, orange tab, probably from the 1970s. Checking the patch, they looked to be his size. He smiled. In the pile was also a faded plaid shirt, long boot socks, even white undershirt and briefs, clean but all worn before. "Not a chance." he muttered. He quickly dressed, sans the undergarments.

Cleansed, hair still wet, he joined Mrs. Bell on the front porch, barefooted.

"Good morning Mrs. Bell." Kissing her cheek, then taking the rocker next to her.

"My goodness, I didn't expected you this early after reading all night."

"It's not that early. It's after 6 already. I have to do morning chores at Heartland. I promised Amy I would be there by 7."

"Good to know." She said smiling. "Mr. Bell's clothes fit you nicely." She smiled.

"Yeah, they do. Thank you. Are these Levi's from 70s?" He asked eagerly.

"Actually. 1969. The year that style was first introduced. Mr. Bell always wore Levi's." Then she added. "Keep them. I've got umpteen other pairs."

"Really?! Thank you." He added. "Your water pressure in the shower was great. I feel much better."

"No sense in taking a shower under a weak stream." She said seriously. He laughed.

She leaned toward him, looked him in the eye, asked. "Did you finish Amy's journal."

He shook his head. "I still have a ways to go. I'm about half way."

"Well?"

"Its not what I expected, really." he conceded. Then shook his head. "She wrote about everything. Mostly about work, the horses, the team, training schedules, competitions, what she fed the horses. But, she also described the people she met, things she saw, places she visited, food she ate. She kept pay stubs, receipts, pictures, post cards. People she met there reminded her of someone here in Hudson. She wrote some about me, our phone calls and texts."

Mrs. Bell smiled.

"She worked really hard, long days, long weeks. It wasn't all the fun and parties I imagined. And she was lonely, homesick, worried. But, she didn't tell me. I guess more than anything, I wish she had just told me these things."

"What didn't she tell you?" She pushed.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Hogwash. Of course you know." Not letting him off easy.

He sighed. He knew she was going to drive it out of him, one way or another. "Um. Would you mind if I had some coffee first?" He definitely needed caffeine, especially if marathon discussion was coming on.

"I don't have any of that stuff. It's not good for your heart." She said with conviction, then offered. "Have some hibiscus and cinnamon tea instead. I made the blend myself."

He grimaced, then said. "Thank you but no."

"Don't be a silly. Make a fresh pot for the both of us. Please." She pointed to the tea pot on the table between them. "The kettle is on the stove. The hibiscus and cinnamon loose tea is in the tin on the counter. One heaping scoop per cup. Cups are in the cabinet by the sink." She instructed.

He chuckled. "Okay Mrs. Bell."

When Ty returned, he poured fresh tea into her cup, a delicate, dainty porcelain tea cup in a pink floral pattern. She took a long sip of the tea. "Perfect. Thank you, Ty." She smiled at him.

As he placed the pot on the table between them, he spied the leather journal lying there next to a vase of blue, yellow and white asters, some of Amy's favorites, the ones she often took to her mom's gravesite. He frowned, then sighed heavily as he sat down.

Mrs. Bell noticing his reaction explained. "I thought you might want to read the rest."

He shrugged, but didn't respond.

"You know what they say?"

"What?"

"Procrastination is the lazy cousin of fear."

He laughed. "There is definitely fear involved." He took a sip of tea. "Hey. This is pretty good."

"And twice the caffeine of coffee." She winked.

"Really?" He downed his cup of tea, then poured himself another.

As he took a few sips from his second cup, she pushed. "You said Amy wasn't honest before she left?"

He sighed, she wasn't going to give him any peace until he answered. "Okay. I thought that our breakup was a result of Amy going to Europe, living it up, enjoying the ritzy life, hanging out with a prince. But, Amy wrote that we needed time apart the very first day she was in Paris."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She told her driver, Syed, in Europe. Here let me read that to you." He picked up the journal, found the page. "Here it is. She wrote, "Syed said that it must have been hard for Ty to let me come to Europe by myself and for so long. Maybe I was tired or something but I said something like...Ty supports me fully but we also recognized that we needed some time apart."

"But, you didn't feel that way?" Mrs. Bell asked. "Needing time apart?"

"No. I didn't."

"Why do you think Amy did?"

He sighed. "It's complicated."

"Well, naturally."

"We had a tough patch in the weeks before she left. We should have worked it out but then she got the opportunity to go to Europe. So we didn't resolve things."

He swallowed hard. "I just wish she had told me how she was feeling, what she was thinking. Before she went to Europe and while she was away. If she had been honest, we could have worked through our issues." He added. "Or not. I mean...Maybe we would have parted ways months ago."

"Oh? So, Amy is the only one to blame? The only one not honest? What about you?"

He sighed. "No I wasn't honest either. I kept things from her when I should not have. That's what started our rough patch." He continued. "Here's the thing. She didn't say how she really felt." He lamented, frustrated. "Now I am reading this, this stupid journal. Finding out things that she should have told me. But she didn't."

"Ty" She said quietly.

"Look Mrs. Bell. There is no sense in worrying about it now. Dragging all this up. We aren't together. We aren't engaged. We are friends, but just barely."

"Ty. You and Amy love each other. You can begin again. Trust me. You just have to want it."

"It's not that easy."

"Never said it was." Mrs. Bell stood up, leaned over him, kissed his forehead. "I'll be back." She opened the door, Sugarfoot ran in, she followed into the house. A few minutes later she came out, handed Ty a brown paper bag.

"What's this?"

"Fresh blueberry scones for your breakfast with Amy." Then she said, "Its twenty to seven.

"Thanks. Yeah. I best be going." He went into the house to gather his things. Mrs. Bell's letter was in the nightstand, he read it again. Folded it up, put it in his pocket.

When he returned, he seemed to have calmed down. "Thank you Mrs. Bell. For everything. For listening, asking questions, for making me think." He kissed her cheek, then headed to his truck.

RBG cried at the top of her tiny lungs at 6:42 am, a full 18 minutes before Amy's alarm blasted. Eyes still shut, she leaned over, snatched her fur baby out of her cardboard bed, drew her to her chest, nestled her between her bare breasts. Amy's warmth, quiet SHHs soothed the young setter, her cries quickly subsided, replaced a single hiccup that shook her body. "Good morning my little one! Let's snuggle in bed before we have breakfast." Amy suggested, pulling the covers around them both.

Lying quietly, stroking her soft ears, the puppy began to squirm, nuzzled Amy, soft smacking, sucking noise emerged. "My, little girl, you must be so hungry." She laughed, carrying the pup to get a syringe full of formula. Ruth immediately drew the elongated nipple into her mouth, sucking greedily. A sweet mmmm, then another, escaped her lips.

"You are the prettiest puppy ever. And so smart. Aren't ya girl?"

Amy did not hear the light knock on the door. "Come on sweet one. Let's get back in bed and cuddle." She giggled as the puppy wiggled, tried to curl up her chest.

Opening the door slightly, he peeked in. Seeing her, he smiled, did not move an inch, admiring her almost naked body before him. Her long golden hair still cascading down her back, pink panties covering her perfect behind, her toned legs. His heart swelled. "Amy?"

Startled, she let out a scream, more like a yelp, then realized that she only wore her panties, only held Ruth to cover her bare breasts, nothing else. She scrambled to the bed, pulling the cover around her and Ruth. "What are you doing here?" She challenged, but could not think of anything better to say.

"Coffee? Remember? I brought scones. Mrs. Bell made them fresh this morning." He grinned at her, so cute, huddled in bed, hiding behind the covers.

"Don't you knock?"

"I did. Don't you lock? The neighborhood isn't safe these days." He teased.

"Apparently, it's not." She said, sighed heavily. "Fine. You make the coffee." Then she added, "Turn around so I can get dressed. And no peeking."

"Alright. Promise. No peeking." He laughed as he turned his back, started making the coffee. "Who is your new friend?"

"Ruth Bader Ginsberg." She said proudly. "I am a new mom."

"I love the name. She has a lot to live up to." He said, then added sincerely. "You'll make a great mom, Ames."

"Hope so." With Ruth nestled in her own bed, Amy quickly pulled on yesterday's jeans, a fresh tank, socks and boots. "She's just a few days old so she needs a lot of attention."

"I bet. Why so young?"

"She's Gem's pup. You know, from Setters Ranch. Anyhow, she kept straying so Gem gave up on her, rejected her." Her tone was a little sad, when she added. "Poor thing. I promised her.." Amy trailed off, sighed, settled into a chair at table.

"She's lucky to have you. Pups at age require a lot, maybe even more than a foal." He joined her, bring two cups of coffee and the bag of scones. "Remember Merlin?"

She nodded, didn't look at him as she looked out over yard and beyond.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah." She said quietly.

"Okay." He didn't want to pry, but added anyhow. "We promised to be honest."

She nodded. "I feel like Ruthie."

"How's that?"

She shrugged. "I went on an adventure. When I came back, the people who supposed love me, rejected me." Then she added. "It's still hard. Really hard."

He didn't know what to say except "I'm sorry." He touched her hand.

"Me too."

She changed the subject. "Um. So you've been reading my journal. You're still talking to me so that's good."

"I read about half. You just got to that Martini Hotel in Rome." He confessed. "Great name!"

"Oh. The first time? When Ahmed bought Noble Cause?"

"I guess. I didn't get that far. I will finish it today."

"What about school?"

"I am going to skip. It's only one class today."

"Ty. Please don't skip class. That's your future. Please."

"Amy. Let's have our coffee and scones first."

"No. Promise me that you won't skip class."

"Okay. Fine. I promise."

"Thank you." She reached into the bag, pulled out a folded piece of paper. She looked at him. "What's this?"

"I have no idea. Honestly. Open it."

"Oh. It's from Mrs. Bell." She read it aloud.

Dearest Amy

Mr. Bell is the greatest love and joy of my life. His early passing is my greatest sorrow. The time we wasted time being apart, petty, stubborn, angry, not talking is my biggest regret.

You love Ty. He loves you.

But, make no mistake. Love is complicated. Love requires hard work, loyalty, trust, honesty, communication, friendship. Maturity.

He's reading your journal as you asked. Give him time to reflect. Answer his questions honestly and fully. Ask your own questions. Listen to his answers. Then decide whether or not you can live without him. Whether his love is worth your love. And whether you are willing to invest the hard work required to begin again.

Love.

Sally Bell

"She gave me a letter too." He smiled. "Almost the same. She does love us both."

She nodded. "Ty. Thank you for reading my journal. It means a lot to me...um. Ah. Do you have any questions?"

He nodded. "I do..."

Hello everyone. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I enjoyed your reviews. Keep them coming. Hopefully the next one won't take as long.

Please stay safe and healthy.

SBR