Loving Jade: Flynn's story - Riverstone Estate Series - standalone Page 5

  I’m leaning over the sink, cleaning bridles when Amber peaks her head through the doorway. She’s the picture of health; wide grin and flushed cheeks. “Hey, Amber,” I cheer, glad to see another human being. “You riding?” I ask, curious. She’s not wearing her usual outfit, and her hair is not up in a ponytail, as per usual. Her dark rubber boots peak out from under her long skirt.

  She smiles, a playful grin. And I’m curious. She’s here to talk. She usually has some gossip about Ruby. She was the one who told me she’d fallen for her boss, the infamous reclusive eccentric across the street. “What’s up?”

  She bites her lip. I recognize that look – she needs a favour. Damn, I don’t have time for favours.

  She helps me hang a bridle on the wall. “So,” she starts off slowly. “We have a new guest at the Inn.”

  My breath hitches. I don’t know why. She hasn’t even mentioned her name.

  Jade.

  Ever since I met her, she’s been on my mind. There was just something about her, something just beneath the surface – a dark essence. And it intrigued me beyond words. I wanted to know more about her.

  “Yes,” I say, attempting to sound casual. “I met her yesterday. She came and introduced herself.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about her,” she says. “It all happened so quickly. Auntie Ruthie just called me up and told me about… anyway, I agreed to let her stay here. And things have been so crazy busy lately.”

  I laugh softly. “Aren’t they always?”

  Her face breaks into a huge grin. “Yes, tell me about it. Every day, I wonder if we were crazy to keep this place.”

  “I don’t,” I tell her. “Not once have I second-guessed our decision.”

  “You’re right…” she trails off.

  The tack room falls silent for a while as we work together and tidy the space.

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Jade,” she starts again and my ears perk up. “This is actually a very sensitive subject but she and I talked it over and she wants to possibly become one of your clients.”

  I’m not completely stunned. I think back to the beautiful well-put together woman, impeccable in her tight white jeans, feminine blouse, and fashion boots, and I not only see those things, but I remember the dark essence she projected. I knew there was more to her than met the eye.

  There was something about her…

  “What kind of therapy is she interested in,” I ask, the words escaping my lips in a flash – I want to know everything. “What’s her story?”

  Amber’s face falls. “She left her husband,” she says, “and he doesn’t know she’s here. I think she’s afraid he’ll find her.”

  Oh fuck.

  “Seriously?!” I ask, shocked. This seems more serious than I originally guessed. I had pegged her as someone who suffered from mild anxiety or possibly a mild eating disorder. “Her husband abused her?” I ask, coming to the only conclusion I can.

  Amber nods. “Yes, he hits her and has been verbally abusive for years. I get the sense that he’s also very controlling. He has her on a tight leash.”

  Fuck.

  My heart pounds harder – this is serious. “Amber, you should have talked to me before you took on this woman.”

  She bites her lip. “I know… I know,” she concedes, “but aunt Ruthie called and told me all about her and asked if she could stay with us. And I felt so bad… I couldn’t say no.”

  Of course she couldn’t say no – with that huge heart of hers. “It’s just that… this puts us in an awkward position, Amber. Not to mention a possibly dangerous position. This guy’s gonna eventually find her, and who knows how crazy he is. If he’s a man who hits his wife, he’s probably quite the hothead.”

  Her mouth is a hard line when she says, “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Flynn. I’m sure he is a hothead, but then again, so are you. So am I…”

  I smile down at her. She’s right. I’m probably just being paranoid, picturing the worst case scenario.

  “She just seems so broken, Flynn,” Amber goes on. “I think you could really help her. I think her husband did quite the number on her.”

  I think back to the huge diamond on her finger, and the assumption I had made. A single glance, and I concluded that she was a kept, privileged wife. A princess. She could very well be, but she’s certainly paid a price for her life of luxury. I was right – she wasn’t quite like the others. “Well, talk to her and call me to set up an appointment. We’ll meet at my office to start.”

  A slow grin stretches across her face. “Thank you, Flynn.”

  I’ve worked with clients who were victims of domestic violence before. I have experience with this. I can do this. But something tells me this case is going to be quite different.

  “I’m making spaghetti tonight,” she says. “Jade will be eating with us. I’d love if you could come… you two should get better acquainted.”

  I smirk at her. She knows I can’t resist her spaghetti. My little sister drives me crazy sometimes but I love her to pieces.

  Jade

  My nerves are in shambles as I help Amber and Ruby with dinner. Ruby hands me beautiful white vintage plates to set on the table. She’s just as nice and gorgeous as her sister. I don’t know why I feel so on edge – they’ve both made me feel welcome. Ruby and I seem to have a lot in common; we both like fashion and jewelry. I promised that I’d show her my handmade jewelry. I’ve only brought a few pieces with me – the bulk of it is either at Auntie Ruthie’s or left at my house.

  Every time I think of my old life, a twinge of nerves hits me. I wonder if he’s looking for me, if he’s contacted the police, if he’s hired an investigator. I’ve been careful to not leave any crumbs along the path behind me; no credit card purchases, no telephone usage, no log-ins into my social accounts – I’ve fallen off the face of the earth.

  And it feels liberating. I’m an angel flying.

  I set the cutlery down on the table, and adjust the place settings just so. Everything is perfect. As I stand in this cozy kitchen with its old rustic table and fun touches; colourful plates on the wall, a vintage mixer, a collection of roosters in a row on top of the cabinets, it’s impossible not to feel cheerful.

  Aiden, Amber’s fiancé, swoops in the kitchen, beer in hand. His brown dog nips at his heels. He strikes me as a young dog. He has the energy of a puppy; tail wagging, excited. I was promised a lot of animals, and I certainly got them. I kneel down and give him a pet.

  Everyone is chatting about Amber and Aiden’s wedding. There’s so much love in this room, my heart is envious. Ruby recently got engaged too. Her fiancé, Eric strikes me as a very quiet, introspective man and he seems to be crazy about her. I think about Michael. He’s crazy about me too. He adores me – when he doesn’t hate me. I teeter on the edge – one minute, I think I’ve done the best thing I could have possibly done for myself, and the next I waiver, wondering if I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.

  Amber assures me that no one knows my story but her and Flynn. Everyone else thinks I’m just a guest getting away from the hustle and bustle, seeking a little peace and quiet.

  “What are you talking about, Ruby? You look pretty in yellow,” Amber says with a laugh as she dishes out helpings of spaghetti.

  “No one looks good in yellow,” Ruby argues. “I can’t believe you chose yellow for your bridesmaids’ dresses. A nice pink would have been nice.”

  Ruby’s fiancé smiles. “You’ll all look lovely, I’m sure.”

  She turns to him and kisses him on the cheek. Their love is palpable… you can see it, etched along their gestures, their grins, and their gazes. Michael and I never had that – we were never truly affectionate. Sure, we had amazing sex, but I don’t think there was ever any true affection. I think he just wasn’t capable of it. And perhaps, neither was I. The smile I wore around him was often guarded and tight. His demeanour, words and actions always seemed so sweet in public. They were in f
act a façade; a fabricated charm, a forgery, orchestrated to convey a certain illusion – his wife was perfect, his life was perfect. No one ever had a clue how harsh he could sometimes be. No one but me.

  I knew the real Michael Williams.

  Little Trevor navigates his way through the adults, finally reaching his mother. He pulls at Amber’s apron and she bends to kiss his head. Another pang hits me – damn, every five minutes I feel like I’m going to fall into sobs. My dream of having children is officially over now. It was the one thing I clung to. I thought if we had a child, it would change us, change him. But I couldn’t even give him that.

  “How long have you been here, Jade?” Ruby asks as she sits down next to me.

  “Just a few days,” I tell her, staring down at my plate. I have a hard time making eye contact with anyone. I know it’s crazy but I’m afraid they’ll know all my secrets if I do.

  “Miss,” a little voice chirps to my right, and I turn to look down at Trevor. His huge grin is infectious, and I feel my own face stretching wide – I haven’t smiled in a while. “If you had a choice… would you rather hold a tarantula or a scorpion?”

  Aiden and I both laugh out loud. “He’s always asking questions like that,” he says. “Just go with it.”

  I stare at the kitchen table as I ponder his question. My eyes are fixed on the china, glassware and fall themed centerpiece. It’s a tough one. As far as I know, tarantulas can be poisonous, but so are scorpions. I’m not sure which bite is more lethal. And I’ve always found spiders fascinating. “I think I would choose the tarantula because it’s fuzzy… I think it would be fun to hold. I’ve never held one.”

  “Good answer,” Trevor says. “That’s my choice too. Some scorpion species are lethal. And I love tarantulas… I even held one last year at a science centre. It was very ticklish.”

  “Wow,” I say.

  Just as I start to finally breathe a little easier, Flynn swoops in, larger than life. “Sorry, I’m late,” he says and he’s quick to make himself at home and help himself to some spaghetti. “This looks amazing, Amber.”

  He seems flustered and out of breath as he takes a seat across me. He pauses to smile in my direction; a quick tight grin.

  I’m tense again.

  He knows my secret. I wonder how much Amber’s told him.

  “We were just talking about the wedding,” Amber turns to him. “I still need your measurements for your tux.” She shoots a look up at me. “Flynn will be walking me down the aisle,” she explains.

  “Oh… that’s nice,” I say, venturing a look up at him. He’s just as gorgeous as I remember, even more so. The man has great hair – light strawberry blonde with a widow’s peak; it curves to the side in a sexy wave. On a scale of one to ten, that hair is definitely a ten. He was hot with the bandana, but now…

  I shake my head. I can’t believe this man will be my therapist. I’ll be the first to admit that I desperately need one. But perhaps someone a little less attractive might have been more suitable.

  No big deal, I tell myself as I dig into my spaghetti – it’s delicious. I just need to think of him as my therapist. I need to put all my faith in him.

  The conversation is lively, focused on Amber and Aiden’s upcoming nuptials later this fall. There’s talk of Ruby and Eric getting hitched too. Ruby talks about a possible destination wedding in Fiji.

  Thankfully, the attention is not focused on me, and my nerves settle a little. Yet every time Flynn gazes in my direction, my breath hitches. I honestly don’t know if it’s because he knows my secret and will soon know everything there is to know about me. Or if it’s because he’s one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever met.

  Jade

  My feet drag as I make my way up the gravel road to the large banquet hall at the far end of the property. That’s where Flynn’s office is. Or should I say Dr. Riverstone? Do I call him Flynn or Dr. Riverstone? Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that.

  I don’t want to do this.

  After quite the trek, I finally make it to my destination; a large beautiful structure; half large bungalow, half commercial building; blue siding and extravagant landscaping.

  I’m nervous as I pull at one of the glass doors. I’m happy when it opens. I venture in cautiously and take in my surroundings; classic traditional furnishings; antique black and white photographs lining the walls, artificial flowers artfully arranged in tall glass vases.

  My pulse races as soon as my eyes settle on Dr. Riverstone walking down the hall to greet me. He smiles and offers a hand. “Nice to see you, Jade.”

  I can barely get three words out, my heart is beating so fast. “Nice… to see you.”

  He wears dark khakis and a clean striped dress shirt – classy but casual. His hair is perfectly styled again –it seems like the kind of hair that just behaves. This is not the man I met at the barn. This is not Flynn, this is Dr. Riverstone.

  “Follow me,” he urges. As we walk down the hall to his office, I study the photos one the walls – more horses.

  As soon as I step in his office, he tells me to make myself comfortable and take a seat. I inch closer to one of the old Victorian style chairs; solid mahogany wood with dark green brocade upholstery. The whole office is dark, filled with plaids and cherry woods – it reminds me of the golf club where Michael and I occasionally used to play.

  As I sink into the comfortable chair and study the wall behind his desk, I breathe a little easier.

  First off, the wall is covered with certificates. I know this guy is not just some quack. Yet I’m still not quite sure about this whole equine therapy thing – it seems a little kooky to me. The certificates are from Guelph University, University of Toronto, and even McGill – all excellent schools. Maybe this guy does read Ernest Hemingway after all. I really shouldn’t peg people so fast. I shouldn’t label them without getting to know them. I feel like such a snotty bitch.

  Second, the walls are also flanked with countless smiling photos of him and happy people, whom I assume must be his clients. Of course there are lots of horse photos and quite the collection of horse figurines. The man is clearly obsessed with horses – a little strange, but endearing.

  As he takes a seat across me, I can’t quite look at him. My eyes are glued to the horse figurines displayed on the shelves.

  “I’m so glad you’ve decided to go forward with therapy, Mrs. Williams,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll find it to be of great benefit.”

  Mrs. Williams. I’ve heard it a hundred times but now, for some reason, it stings. I finally dare to look at him. “Please call me Jade, Dr. Riverstone… I insist.”

  He clears his throat. “Fair enough. I’ll call you Jade and you call me Flynn, please.”

  “Oh… okay… Flynn,” I say, shy. This is so awkward. My heart is still beating, not knowing what to expect from this therapy. Honestly, I sincerely doubt he can help me. I’m so unhinged. Every day, I fear I’ll lose the little strength I have and run back to him. Every day, I want to run back to him.

  “The goal of this first session is to learn more about you and also tell you about the program I’ve put together for you,” he starts. “It might be adjusted a little as I see fit. All our sessions, with the exception of this one, will take place at the barn and arena.”

  I nod quietly.

  “Speaking of which, how did you like the arena? How did it make you feel?”

  I’m taken back to our initial meeting and I picture the red bandana and the tattoo on his arm. I know it’s there, hiding under his dress shirt. I want to see it, to know what it is. My guess is a horse. “It was nice… sunny. I liked it.”

  “At first, I’ll just acquaint you with one of our horses,” he continues, elbows propped along the edge of his desk. I try to not be distracted by his amazing hair as he talks.

  “I’ve chosen Buddy for you. He’s a sweet Welsh pony, a little pig-headed but not too big or intimidating. You’ll groom him and get to know each other. Hopefully, you and he
will become great friends. Then we’ll move on to the paddock, where we’re going to work on trust exercises. And then back to the arena where we’ll conquer obstacle courses.”

  “Will I ride the horses?” This question has been weighing on my mind. I’m not sure I want to ride. As beautiful as they are, they’re so big and scary. “I’m not sure—”

  “Equine therapy can be effective without riding, but if you feel up to it at a later time, it can add wonders to the therapy. It’s really up to you.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know.”

  “The goal of this therapy is to make you comfortable, relaxed and happy. I really wouldn’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

  He’s so damn sweet. I feel a little guilty for doubting him. “Can I ask… how do horses help people? I don’t quite understand it.”

  He leans back in his chair. “Horses are incredibly intuitive. They mirror humans’ emotions. If you are anxious, they’ll be unsettled. If you’re happy, they’ll be happy too. They are social animals, they can become great friends,” he goes on. “They’re powerful majestic animals, and to be able to lead them and handle them can give you a sense of strength, of power. This raises your confidence and gives you a sense of control. You really need to experience it to understand it,” he clarifies. “But it’s something magical. And whether it be anxiety, an eating disorder, post-traumatic stress, or something else, the benefits have been proven over again and again.”

  He speaks with such passion – there’s nothing sexier than a person who is passionate. His enthusiasm is contagious. I want to do this. I want to feel strong, to feel fierce, to feel in control for once in my life.

  He leans back in his chair again and the smile fades from his face. He clears his throat. “I’ve already worked up a program for you but to make sure I’m on the right track, I need to ask you a few personal questions. Would that be all right?”

  My pulse races.

  My secrets.

  I would never dream of telling them to anyone. I’ve only told auntie Ruthie. And when she shared with Amber, she asked for my permission. I know I can trust this man – he has the kindest eyes I have ever seen. And he’s my therapist. “Yes…” I whisper, the word barely audible.