Chapter Fourteen
Bay
As I walk Tempest home, my thoughts are consumed by one thing. The sigh I heard as I left the barn. Can I even call it a sigh? It was the barest exhalation of breath. But it means more to me than any words Sean could have said. Sean rarely speaks, but even rarer are the glimpses of emotion that he keeps under tight reign. Today, in Malvern's stables, I think I witnessed one.
I only wish I knew what it meant. Because the explanations are far fewer than the glimpses.
By the time I get back home, I still haven't answered my question but I'm much calmer than when I stormed into the Yard and lost it with Sean. I lead Tempest into the barn. He balks when we reach his stall and for a second my heart leaps into my throat as I think of Prince. I shake my head to steady my nerves. This is Tempest. I trust Tempest as much as Sean trusts Corr—which means I think I know him well enough to be almost certain he won't kill me. Which means there is a logical explanation for Tempest's behavior.
Looking around, I notice the sprig of holly fell from where I usually keep it tucked into the lock of his stall door. It now lies across the threshold of Tempest's stall. With a smile I pick it up and slip it into the pocket of my jacket.
"Silly capall," I laugh at Tempest. "I wouldn't hurt you."
He snorts indignantly as he walks into his stall. My father's words come to mind, haunting me: What if he tries? Can you stop him, Bay? I finger the holly in my pocket. I know, without a doubt, that if it ever came to that, I would use the deadly berries on Tempest. It would be the hardest decision I'd ever have to make. I pull the holly from my pocket and turn it over in my fingers, letting it rest in the middle of my palm. So small, so red. Like blood. Like life.
Life. When it comes down to it, the question really is, whose life do I value more—Tempest's or the man he finally goes for? Tears spring to my eyes as I realize that yes, even for Mutt Malvern, I'd use the berries that rest in my hand. Admittedly, only after every other possible solution had been exhausted, but I would use them. Such a big animal and so destructive, brought down by something so small and inconsequential. I look up to see Tempest staring at me intently, black sea-storm eyes looking into my very soul. I stuff the berries back into my pocket, telling myself that I'll never have to use them.
I take my time brushing Tempest and getting him settled. Prince is still forefront in my mind and I watch Tempest's every reaction carefully, trying to get a better feel for him. Every twitch of his muscles, every turn of his ear, every flare of his nostril. I question each shift of his stance when I suddenly realize that I'm making Tempest jumpy. When I look back on it, I've already tested Tempest in a lot of uncertain situations—handing him over to Tommy, intervening between Tempest and Dad, taking Tempest into the stormy sea to save Mutt, leaving him alone on the beach today amid excitement and blood. If these events are anything to gauge by, I can rest a fair amount of confidence in Tempest. The real concern is how much confidence do I have in myself? I don't have an answer to that.
As I walk back to the house, I realize that the dead capall uisce is gone now. So is Dad's truck, which means he is either at work or in town. I wonder if I will see him tonight, or even for the next couple of days. It's early in the week yet so there's a good chance he'll be home. He usually doesn't start drinking until the end of the week. I let myself in and rummage through the kitchen for something to eat. Most of my morning was taken up on the beach and then talking to Sean and I realize now that I'm ravenous. I find some leftover soup in the fridge and put it in a pot on the stove to warm up. As I wait for it to warm, thoughts run rampant in my head. Especially thoughts of Sean.
I realize that this is the second time in just a few short weeks that I owe him an apology. It wasn't Sean's fault that Prince was killed. It wasn't his fault that I was so shaken. But there's no doubt in my mind that it is his fault he quit working for Malvern. I only wonder who finally pushed him far enough to tell Malvern.
That American, Holly, perhaps? Sean's gotten real friendly with him lately, which, for Sean, is very unusual. Sean pays more attention to Corr's tack than to tourists. So there must be something special about Holly. Not to say he isn't friendly, but he's so friendly I'm amazed Sean even deems it worth his time to look at him.
Or was it Puck Connolly? I could see that too. She's getting closer to Sean as well and I know she carries no love for Malvern. But what about for Sean? Does she love Sean? I shake my head. Don't be silly, I chide myself. Even if she does, surely he doesn't return it. But that's not the point. Did she tell Sean to quit? And, if so, why?
By now the soup is more than warm. In fact, it's practically boiling. Laughing at myself for getting so lost in thought, I turn the heat down and get out a bowl and spoon.
That evening, I hold Corr's head as Sean wraps the stallion's legs with seaweed. Even though I hold him, Sean spits on his fingers and rubs Corr's flanks every once in a while. After making my deliveries with Selkie, I stopped by the Malvern Yards to speak to Sean. He let me watch him without saying anything, like we used to do when we were younger and didn't know each other as well. I used to follow him around the Yard, watching and talking and just waiting on him to answer. Eventually, I figured out the best way to get Sean to talk was to stay quiet until he invited a conversation. And just like all those times before, he eventually tells me what's on his mind - a meeting with Malvern in the hotel this afternoon. Even though there aren't too many grooms to overhear us this far back in the stables, he keeps his voice low as he tells me what he said to Malvern. Even so, I can hear the pride in his tone as he describes how he bargained with Malvern.
"So, you're back to work now?" I ask when he finishes.
"In theory," he says.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask. Our argument from earlier goes unspoken between us. When I tried to bring it up, Sean stubbornly refused to speak. So I assume he wants it left alone. I don't know if that means he forgives me, or he's avoiding the subject.
"I'm Malvern's until I win the races," Sean says.
"Until you win?" I prompt him. It's a thought I usually try not to entertain - what might happen if Sean doesn't win this year. What might happen if I win. Or if Puck wins. Or any of the other riders who are all clamoring for a share of the prize money.
Sean shrugs in a "why not" gesture as he focuses on Corr's legs, methodically wrapping the seaweed in close, even lines.
"There are new racers this year, you know," I say casually.
He looks up at me as if he'd almost forgotten I'd be racing. He doesn't say anything, but I can see the determination in his eyes and the furrow of his brow as he almost frowns at me.
I take a deep breath and look away, down the row of stalls opposite me. "Complicates matters, doesn't it?" I ask, looking back at Sean, whose entire focus is on Corr now.
"Never really thought about it," he says casually, but I know he's lying.
"There's only one winner," I remind both of us, as if it's a thought that just occurred to me. In truth, I've been thinking about it since the night my name was put on the blackboard underneath Sean's.
"But there are multiple survivors," Sean says.
I look down sharply at him, but he's not looking at me. Does he just enjoy speaking in riddles today? He looks up over his shoulder when I don't respond in any way.
"There's more to the race than winning," he says.
"Are you trying to make me feel better about losing?" I joke, but the false laughter in my voice falls flat.
"Who says I'll win?"
"You seem pretty confident."
"The odds are stacked in my favor," he points out. He's not bragging. He's just telling the truth. Corr is the fastest capall on the island and Sean is the four time champion of the races. I'm a rookie, racing on a capall that's never seen the races before, much less won them. I know from experience that Tempest is fast and strong. The only question is, is he faster than Corr? He's faster than that nasty piebald. But no one knows how the piebald compares to Corr.
A commotion at the front of the barn suddenly draws my attention. Someone has come into the barn, someone small, a girl.
I lean out of the stall just enough that I can see her silhouetted against the fading sunlight that streams through the stable doorway. She stops next to a groom at the front of the barn and holds something up - a jacket. I don't need to be close to see that it's Sean's. It's Puck Connolly with Sean's jacket. Puck speaks to the groom for a minute. The groom barely stops his work just long enough to gesture at the back of the barn with his curry comb, and then he goes back to brushing his horse. Puck stands for a minute, uncertain, then she turns toward the back of the barn.
I draw back into the stall, hoping she didn't see me. I'm not sure why, but I want it to come as a nasty surprise to her that I'm already here with Sean. Sean seems oblivious to Puck's entrance—if he noticed it, he hasn't acknowledged it. He continues wrapping Corr's legs, finishing with one and moving to another.
"Sean?" Puck's voice floats back to us. She comes abreast of the stall door and peers in.
"Hey, Puck," I say.
She draws back as if I startled her. Perhaps her eyes are still adjusting to the dark, I tell myself. Or perhaps she really wanted to find Sean alone. The thought nags unbidden.
"Um, I've got Sean's jacket…" she begins uncertainly, holding the familiar blue coat up so I can see.
"Just leave it somewhere, Kate," Sean says from the floor.
"Oh," Puck says, finally catching sight of Sean. "Uh, okay," she mumbles, searching around for somewhere to hang the jacket. I point out a small hook on the outside of the stall. She smiles her thanks and hangs the coat. Puck hovers awkwardly at the door for a moment, then turns as if to walk away.
"Leaving already?" Sean asks. I look down to see him watching her curiously. Puck looks surprised, as if she didn't expect Sean to call her back.
"No," she replies as if it were her intention all along to stay.
"Do you want to see him up close?" Sean gestures at Corr.
Puck looks the stallion up and down with an apprehensive glance, but beneath that, I can see her good eye for horses, assessing Corr's every line and feature. "Yes," she breathes.
Sean nods at me, gesturing to the stall door with his head. I know what he means, so I open the door and let Puck in. She slides into the stall with room to spare. The Malvern stables are ancient, straight out of Thisby's past, built in a long forgotten age. Everything about them is huge. The high ceiling, the long columns down the central walkway, even the stalls. The three of us and Corr fit without crowding each other. I swing the door shut behind Puck, all the while keeping a casual hold on Corr.
Corr watches Puck closely as she steps into the stall, whinnying inquisitively. Sean rubs him reassuringly and murmurs softly. Corr understands that Sean accepts Puck and he should too. The stallion thrusts his nose toward Puck, taking in her scent, as if to remember her for future reference.
Despite whatever else I might feel, I have to admire Puck. Most grown men would be trembling in fear by now. Puck stands still, if a bit stiff, beneath Corr's scrutiny. She actually smiles as she slowly reaches a hand towards the stallion's nose. Corr draws back with a haughty snort just before Puck's fingers touch his face, as if taunting her. But then, to everyone's surprise, he thrusts his nose into her palm. Puck jumps then relaxes, though not completely. No one ever relaxes completely around a capall uisce. Sean smiles from where he kneels at Corr's right hind leg and rubs Corr's flank approvingly. Corr rarely accepts anyone as quickly as Puck and I can see that Sean is pleased. Puck looks at Sean as if for reassurance and he nods at her so she strokes Corr's nose. Corr lets out a deep thrum of pleasure.
The scene is a bit too comfortable for my liking, so I decide to throw a wrench in it.
"Do you want to hold him?" I ask innocently.
Sean shoots me a sharp glance that clearly asks, What are you doing?
I ignore him.
Puck looks uncertainly at me for a moment then glances down at Sean. But whatever she sees on his face encourages her.
"Okay," she says.
I let go of Corr's head, so that, for a moment, all that keeps Corr in place is Sean's reassuring hand on his flank. Then Puck takes hold of his halter. I step back, a little unsure of what might happen. Sean is tense by Corr's back leg, but he holds perfectly still, knowing that if he's anxious, Corr will be too. He doesn't want Corr to make any sudden moves because he's so close to those heavy hooves.
The tension in the stall runs high and I realize just what an electric situation I put us in. But more than half of me doesn't regret it. Then Puck reaches nervous fingers up to Corr's forehead and gently rubs his face between his eyes. Corr jumps back at first, then leans into her hand, humming in pleasure. From the floor, Sean visibly relaxes, fixing his attention on wrapping Corr's leg again. He finishes shortly and stands up, coming up to the other side of Corr's head, opposite Puck.
"He likes you," he says.
Puck grins like a silly little girl. She's obviously smitten with Sean or Corr - probably both. I shift awkwardly in the background.
"Do you want to ride him?" Sean asks.
Puck looks up sharply and wavers for a minute. But it's obvious she wants to say yes.
"I'll ride with you," Sean prompts.
Puck smiles and nods. I glare daggers at Sean from behind his back and I'm sure he knows it. Sean's never asked me if I want to ride Corr. He's never told me I can't either. For a moment I wonder what it would feel like to ride Corr with Sean's arms wrapped around me, the two of us a single rider astride Corr's broad, red back.
"I'd like that Sean Kendrick," Puck finally answers.
Sean smiles. At Puck Connolly.
"You never asked me if I wanted to ride Corr," I say later that night over dinner in Sean's apartment.
"You never asked," he says, putting a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. I cooked for the two of us.
"Puck didn't either," I point out.
Sean shrugs. "But she wanted to."
I can't argue with that. I've never really wanted to ride Corr. I'm not scared of him and I've been around him nearly as much as I've been around Sean. But there's a difference between just liking a horse and wanting to ride him.
"Why do you hate her, Bay?" Sean asks abruptly, looking me straight in the eye.
"Hate who?" I ask innocently.
"Puck Connolly," he answers even though it's obvious. It's the first time I've heard him call her Puck out loud.
"I don't hate her. Not really," I defer.
"Why'd you ask her to hold Corr?"
"I wanted to scare her," I mumble into my water glass.
"Why?"
"Because she's in love, gosh-darn-it, Sean Kendrick!"
Sean swallows hard and coughs, the movement sudden, unexpected. I can see by the look in his eyes that I caught him off guard. He wipes his hand across his mouth and he's suddenly composed again.
"I guess you spend too much time with horses," I continue. "But that girl's head-over-heels in love with one of the Yard boys, and you can sure as the sea bet it isn't Mutt or Daly!"
Sean blushes. I can't help but crack a smile even though I'm trying to maintain a frown. I've never seen him more out of sorts in my life.
"You're jealous." He hits the nail right over the head. My smile quickly disappears.
I nod because admitting it out loud seems too harsh.
Sean rolls his eyes. "Has the fact that I love Corr ever stopped us from being friends?"
"What? No," I admit.
Sean nods. "See?"
"So you do like her."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't deny it either."
And Sean doesn't deny that. We finish dinner over some good natured heckling and laughter and I feel like we're almost normal again.
That night we flip a coin to see who gets the loveseat, like we used to do when we were kids. I get the bed. Sean throws his pillow at me and takes the floor.