Chương 12
Not everything had to become a lesson.
February brought snow.
Blackthorn hated it less than bananas.
Lily came in a purple jacket and spent forty minutes building what she called a snow horse beside the paddock.
It resembled a large dog.
Adrian told her so.
“You don’t understand art.”
“I fund art.”
“That’s worse.”
June laughed from the fence.
Adrian had learned she laughed more often when he was not employing her.
Their relationship remained prickly.
He offered once to pay for Lily’s riding lessons.
June refused.
“You can’t buy every nice thing you think of.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“Ask her birthday.”
“What?”
“If you want to buy something for Lily, ask her birthday first like a normal person.”
So he did.
Lily wanted a red bicycle.
Adrian bought a book about horse anatomy.
June approved.
Lily did not.
“Books are terrible birthday gifts from rich people,” she told him.
“Noted.”
Claire called twice a month.
Some conversations lasted ten minutes.
One lasted forty-three.
They talked about Blackthorn, bad hospital food, a television show Adrian had never seen, and whether Claire’s childhood piano teacher had actually been drunk at recitals.
Adrian believed no.
Claire insisted yes.
Victoria confirmed yes.
For several weeks Claire stopped treatment because her blood counts were too low.
Adrian learned this only after the fact.
His first reaction was anger.
“You should have told me.”
“Why?”
“So I would know.”
“To do what?”
He had no answer.
Claire waited.
“Exactly.”
He sat on the floor of the stable office after that call and listened to Blackthorn kick the stall wall because dinner was seven minutes late.
Mateo came in.
“You all right?”
“No.”
Mateo nodded.
“Want coffee?”
“No.”
Mateo made two anyway.
Adrian drank his.
By spring, Claire’s scans had improved.
She did not use the word remission.
Neither did Adrian.
She agreed to video calls.
The first time Adrian saw her bald, he failed badly.
His face changed.
Claire noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You did with your face.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I look weird.”
“You look—”
“If you say beautiful, I’m hanging up.”
Adrian stopped.
Claire smiled.
“Good.”
He looked at her carefully.
“You look tired.”
“Accurate.”
“And your head is extremely round.”
She laughed so hard she had to put down the phone.
Adrian laughed too.
When it passed, she wiped her eyes.
“That was better.”
“I’m learning.”
“Slowly.”
In May, Claire asked to see Blackthorn.
Not Adrian.
Blackthorn.
Adrian received the message at six in the morning and replied at six oh three.
Yes.
Then he waited.
At seven forty Claire wrote:
I mean in person.
Adrian’s hands went cold.
He typed:
Yes.
Nothing more.
The meeting was arranged through June.
Claire would come to the stable on a Wednesday afternoon when no employees except Mateo were present.
No media.
No security near the barn.
No guests.
Adrian was not to be there unless Claire asked.
That last condition nearly broke him.
He agreed.
On Wednesday he worked from the house.
At one forty-eight he saw a gray rental car turn onto the service road.
He moved away from the window.
At two eleven Monica called from the city office.
“Are you breathing?”
“Yes.”
“You answered too fast.”
“I’m working.”
“No, you’re not.”
Adrian looked at the same email he had been reading for twenty minutes.
“I hate everybody.”
“That sounds healthier.”
He hung up.
At two thirty-seven his phone buzzed.
Claire.
You can come down if you want.
He was outside before he finished reading.
Then he stopped on the back steps.
He walked.
Not ran.
The stable was quiet.
He saw Lily first.
She was sitting on the mounting block eating pretzels.
June stood beside her.
Blackthorn was in the aisle.
A woman stood with both arms around his neck.
For several seconds Adrian saw only the back of her coat.
Then she turned.
Claire had hair again.
Very short.
Brown.
She had lost weight.
Her face looked older, although he could not have explained how.
Adrian stopped twenty feet away.
Claire stared at him.
Neither moved.
Lily ate another pretzel.
June whispered, “Maybe stop chewing.”
“I’m hungry.”
Claire laughed.
Adrian did too.
The sound loosened something.
He took one step.
Claire’s eyes filled.
He stopped again.
She nodded.
That was permission.
He crossed the distance slowly.
When they hugged, Adrian kept his arms loose until Claire tightened hers.
Then he held her.
Not too hard.
He had imagined this moment for nearly two years.
In most versions he said something.
In reality he could not.
Claire’s shoulder shook once against him.
He felt how thin she was under the coat.
Every instinct told him to ask for numbers.
Weight.
Blood work.
Scan results.
Medication schedule.
Instead he put his hand against the back of her head.
Her hair was soft and barely long enough to bend under his palm.
“Hi,” she said.
Adrian laughed into her shoulder.
“Hi.”
They separated.
Claire wiped her face.
“You look old.”
“You look rude.”
“Cancer.”
“That cannot be your excuse forever.”
“Watch me.”
Lily grinned.
June looked away, crying.
Blackthorn shoved his nose between Adrian and Claire.
Claire turned immediately.
“Oh, now you care.”
The horse breathed against her chest.
Claire pressed her forehead to his.
Adrian watched.
Blackthorn did not kneel.
He did not perform any miracle.
He simply stood there while Claire scratched the place beneath his mane where the ribbon had been.
After a minute she looked at Adrian.
“Where is it?”
“Lily has it.”
Lily raised her wrist.
The faded red ribbon was tied around it.
Claire smiled.
“Looks better there.”
Lily came over.
“Can you make him bow?”
“Probably.”
She gave the small two-finger cue.
Blackthorn stared at her.
Nothing happened.
Lily frowned.
“He forgot.”
“He’s retired,” Claire said.
“He’s lazy.”
“He earned it.”
Adrian leaned against the stall door.
“He has neck pain.”
Claire’s expression changed.
“I read the report.”
“You did?”
“You sent it.”
“Right.”
May you like
She glanced at him.
“You’re nervous.”
