Eye of the Storm

  Instead. I charged out, slammed the door behind me and ran up to the portico. I turned at the door and saw Jake take a swig from his silver liquor flask before starting away. Everyone has his or her own way to face loneliness, I thought. but I wished Jake had found some other way.

  It was terribly dark and cold in the house. I went from room to room turning on all the lights and then I went to the kitchen and heated some soup for myself. I started a fire in the fireplace in the sitting room, brought in my bowl of soup, and stared into the flames.

  The wind howled around the house, twisting and turning itself to slam at the shutters and windows and make itself sound like hundreds of horses stampeding on the roof. I got a blanket and sprawled out on the sofa, permitting the fire to throw its warmth on my face. One question loomed above all others for me. Why? Why had I been brought to this house? For me it had vet to prove to be a safe harbor, a refuge, a sanctuary. Was fate just playing with me now? Was I being used to tease and torment this family, a family I certainly didn't ask to be born into? I fell asleep, haunted by the questions.

  The storm lingered over the next few days and except for Jake checking in on me from time to time. I heard from no one. The days dragged by

  monotonously as I waited for the skies to clear and events to work themselves out. It was hard. What do you do with yourself, with time when you have it in super abundance? What direction should your thoughts take when daydreams could lead you into so much sad territory?

  I tried to occupy myself with reading, watching television, listening to music. Finally, the storm moved away and the ground began to dry. A day later I heard from Aunt Victoria, who told me she had been very busy helping Grant make a transition from tragedy back to a productive life. When I asked her about my mother, she simply said she's unchanged,

  "We're deciding how to handle that. I don't know if private therapy will be enough and neither does Grant," she told me with an ominous undertone.

  What new plot was she hatching? Should I care?

  She told me she would be by in two days with the paperwork she had promised earlier. I didn't tell her that I had come to a decision she would like very much. I had finally decided to leave and give them all what they had wanted. I told Jake I shouldn't have been so stubborn about it. I should have accepted the compromise and gone back to England. Brody would still be alive.

  He hated that talk and told me I was not right to blame myself again and again. Finally, he stopped arguing about it. Instead, he talked me into taking Rain for a ride, now that the weather permitted it. I could set clearly what he hoped would happen and I didn't deny that I hoped it myself: his beautiful horse would bring me some peace and contentment.

  The rides were practically the only thing I looked forward to doing. Rain became more and more comfortable with me and I started to believe in Jake's descriptions of the horse anxiously anticipating my arrival. As strange as it might seem, she was the only living thing that really seemed to love me now and riding her was the best way to escape from my dark depression.

  'Every time we reached the crest of that hill. Rain would expect me to stop and dismount. She would graze on some grass and I would sit on a rock and look out at the land. Grandmother Hudson's house, and the beautiful horizon. I would tell myself that ordinarily, considering where I had come from and what I had been through growing up. I should feel lucky. I should cherish all this and fight hard not to lose it, but the wall of tragedy was too tall and too wide and too heavy.

  It's just not meant to be. I told myself. Run away. Stop fighting it.

  As she had promised. Aunt Victoria came to see me with a stack of papers. I sat listening numbly when she described the different investments, legal documents, the reissuing of certificates, on and on. a gobbled-gook of business information that clouded my tired and confused brain. Maybe I was more like my mother than I had imagined. Maybe, like her. I just wanted someone to do all this for me and not bother with anything practical.

  In the middle of her endless stream of financial information. I put up my hands like someone seeking to surrender.

  "I don't care about all that," I said. "I want to go back to England as soon as possible. You were right,"

  She stared at me a moment and then she nodded and smiled. "So, you want me to go ahead and sell the property?"

  "Do whatever has to be done." I said.

  "What about all this?" she said nodding at the pile of papers.

  "I don't want to be part of it. Tell Grant I'll accept his offer."

  She didn't speak. but I could see from the way her face blossomed, her eyes filling with glee, that she was overwhelmed with happiness. Now she could go to him and say. "See how good I am for you. See how I do what I promise."

  I didn't care. If Grant was going to be snared by her conniving ways, he deserved it. I wanted to be as far away and as uninvolved in this family as I could be so I couldn't be blamed for that. too.

  She took a breath and started to gather up all the documents,

  "Very well I'll go back to our attorney and inform him of this change," she said. "You're being very sensible, sensible indeed. In the end you'll be far happier."

  "I'm already happier," I told her.

  She looked like she was going to laugh, but just nodded and smiled instead.

  The next day I received a letter from my father in England. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in a long time. I just sat there staring at the envelope, terrified and yet exhilarated. What would I do if he had written that after thinking it all over, he and his wife had decided it was probably best for all involved if I didn't contact them anymore? After all, look at all the new and complicated problems I was bringing along in my luggage? Yet, who else did I have?

  My fingers trembled as I tore open the envelope and slipped the letter out. He had written it on his school stationery, most likely while he was at work. Did he do it there because he didn't want Leanna to know?

  .

  Dear Rain,

  What a wonderful surprise it was to hear from you, even though I could see from your letter that you are very troubled. I'm glad you wrote to me at such a time. I have no reason to expect it and I certainly don't deserve it.

  How presumptuous it would be for me to offer you any advice at all. I don't know all the details about your situation back there. I can't even begin to imagine what it all must be like for you. Is the secret of your birth completely revealed, for example? Or is it still some skeleton hanging in a closed Hudson family closet?

  Maybe none of that matters anyway..... The point is you are obviously not being accepted with open arms. I suppose you are like a small boat adrift in a wild sea, being tossed and turned and desperate for some sanctuary.

  Long ago, I decided that there were things more important to me than just making a lot of money. I suppose that was a consequence of all my rebellion and protest. Corporations, big successful businesses and businessmen and women were the enemy willing to sacrifice and destroy the smaller and weaker to

  pursue the almighty dollar. -So you have the opportunity to be very wealth even wealthier if you defy. the family. Still what happiness will you gain after defeating them? I suppose that should be your guiding principle. Will Megan ever accept you fully? Will her husband? Will your aunt Victoria? Any of them?

  Most likely they will resent you even more. You ask me to give you advice. I'll dare to do so. Compromise and come back. Pursue your interests here and give me the opportunity to become the father I never was. Leanna agrees. It will be strange for my children at first, but in time, I think they'll learn to accept you and understand.

  You can always return to America and another life.

  If you take this letter, crumble it up and throw it in the garbage, I'll understand. If I never hear from you again, I'll understand. As I said, I have no right to any expectations.

  In Julius Caesar, Shakespeare wrote that the eye sees not itself but by reflection. Find a way to look into yourself Rain
. The answers are all there, waiting.

  Just like me.

  Love,

  Your father

  .

  I didn't even feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. They surprised me when they reached my chin. I wiped them aside and sat back, thinking of my father. It was the first time in weeks that I had felt any hope. I decided to write back immediately and tell him I had decided, even before his letter had arrived, to return as quickly as I could. I had decided to turn my back on this family and take what some would rightfully call reparations, compensation and restitution for the pain and suffering I endured and still endured. Without shame. I would complete the negotiation for my money and I would leave. The only one I would truly miss was Jake and, of course. riding Rain.

  While I waited for Aunt Victoria to get all the business papers in order with the family's attorney. I spent more time doing just that. Jake brought me to the stables earlier and I helped feed and care for Rain. I took longer rides, deciding to go off right and make our own paths through the woods and then through other meadows, nearly reaching my grandmother's property line before starting back.

  Jake said I was doing wonderfully and Rain was getting stronger, leaner.

  "You two are really a pair now," he told me. He brought Mick Nelsen, the trainer, around to watch us and once I joined Mick while he rode his horse. Rain seemed unhappy, maybe jealous. She twisted and turned her neck and seemed to pout, trotting with her head down and only occasionally stealing a glance of the other horse, who was indifferent.

  When Rain and I parted from Mick and his horse before returning to the stables, a change came over Rain. She lifted her head proudly and regained her energy. Reluctant to end the ride now, she actually tried to get me to start again. Jake laughed later when I described her behavior.

  "Just like a woman." he said. "She wants your undivided attention."

  That night Aunt Victoria called to tell me she would be over late the next afternoon and she would bring their attorney along to explain every detail.

  "We don't want you to think anything is being done surreptitiously," she said. 'No lawsuits five years down the road, if you please.'

  "Fine," I told her. "I'll be here.'

  I told Jake I had to be back by two. It was a day I shall never forget. I relive each detail like some meticulous detective searching for a clue, an answer, a reason. What could I have done differently? If I had lingered ten more minutes over my breakfast or not been so efficient when I had gotten to the stables, would the events of the day have been changed? Could I have prevented what happened?

  Was I being punished for defying Fate or Grandmother Hudson's wishes? Who was I to dare to think I was master of my own destiny? I was forced into this world, into this body and soul, given this name and all these thoughts, and pulled out of the great body of God to be born unwanted. And now. I had the audacity to think I could make it all right?

  And then of course, there was Brody. lingering in my mind like an extra shadow, a soul for whom I bore eternal responsibility, a soul that demanded satisfaction.

  As soon as we drove up to the stables. Mick approached.

  "Your horse Rain-- she's anxious today." he said. "Hyper as I've ever seen her. You're going to have to move in with her." he told me. jokingly. "She don't like you not being here when she wants you."

  "Is she all right?" Jake asked suspiciously.

  "Yeah. Just give her a little longer warm up. It might be the crisp air. Makes 'em impatient to get those muscles flexed, their blood movin'."

  I walked Rain around the track. She snorted and whinnied and tugged at me moving her head toward her rear to say, get that saddle on and let's stop this nonsense. It made Mick laugh, but Jake kept his eyes small, his face full of concern.

  "She is more rambunctious. Let Mick take her out today, Rain." he told me.

  "What? Why?"

  "I don't like the way she's acting. Mick?"

  "Okay by me," he said.

  Disappointed. I watched him saddle and put the bridle on. Rain kept her eyes on me. Even Mick noticed.

  "She knows somethin's up. Jake." he said finally smiling.

  When Mick sat in the saddle, she actually bucked. It took Mick by surprise and he nearly spilled. Embarrassed, he pulled up on the reins firmly. She snorted, twisted and pounded the around with her left hoof. Mick turned her and made her trot forward, but she kept stopping, fighting him and trying to turn back toward me.

  "I'll be damned," he said.

  Jake looked at me and then at Rain. Finally he nodded. "All right. You can take her out." he relented.

  Those words would later drive him into the darkness of excessive drink and eventually an early grave.

  Happy. I hurried to get into the saddle. The moment I did so. Rain calmed down and waited obediently.

  "Make it a short one," Jake instructed. "Just once around the smaller circle, okay?"

  "Okay, Jake." We started out. "I'm going to miss you. Rain," I told her as we moved gracefully onto the path. "If I come back to visit, will you remember me?"

  Whenever I spoke to her. Rain had a way of rocking her head from side to side as if she really understood. It brought a smile back to my face. I ran my hand through my hair, closed my eyes to feel the wind, and let her have her head. She broke into a run and we were off. As always. I felt like she and I had become one animal, our movements coordinated. We established a graceful rhythm. I was sure that Jake and Mick were smiling and nodding their heads as well. I knew they were watching me longer than they usually did. Jake was still nervous when I had left.

  The heavy storm we had the days before had scattered some leaves and twigs over the meadow. Some of the dampness brought out rodents and other creatures excited with the sudden unexpected rebirth of bugs. Just at the foot of the crest where we would either go forward, up and then down to complete what Jake called the smaller circle, the path now forked to the right as well because of the rides I had taken with Rain in that direction. Marking the crossroads was a small scattering of rocks and some dead treetrunks.

  Once Mick had told me about keeping an eye out for snakes, especially copperheads.

  "They are almost impossible to see anyway," he said. "'because their coloring allows them to blend in, especially with fallen trees. But," he assured me. "like almost all snakes, they are not aggressive. Live and let live is their motto. The problem is horses don't know that. So try to steer clear of places where snakes might house themselves.'"

  He meant rocks and logs. Usually. I stayed pretty far to the right or to the left of the markers. but I was distracted myself and in deep thought about my decisions. Normally. Rain would steer clear on her own, but copperheads. as Mick told me in his colorful language, "make their living being practically invisible. They won't move until they have to. You could step right on a copperhhead and not know it."

  Rain's hoof did exactly that. Copperheads, especially the young ones, leave their tails out so other animals they pursue as prey will be attracted, thinking the tail is a lizard or something and come close enough for the copperhead to strike. Rain stepped on the tail and the snake spun around. It didn't strike Rain, but the sight of it, put a panic through her that vibrated right up my leas and into my heart.

  She bucked and twisted in a frantic effort to stay clear of the snake's thrusting head and the turn she made was so abrupt and sharp. I lost my grip and flew out of the saddle. I don't even remember hitting the ground.

  All I remember is a whack on my head and lower back and then, all was dark.

  When I opened my eyes again. I was looking up at a bright ceiling fixture in a hospital emergency room. I heard people moving around me, the sound of running water, a pan being placed on a sink counter. A whirl of white uniforms went by before I saw the face of a concerned middle-aged doctor. He had very thin, gray hair and eyes that looked swollen with worry. There was a small red spot on the bridge of his nose, probably made by his reading glasses.

  "Hello there," he said
and smiled.

  "Where am I?" I whispered. It sounded far away, like a voice in a tunnel.

  "You're at the hospital. You had an accident. Can you remember anything about it?" he asked.

  I told him as much as I knew. but I felt groggy and nauseated. My body felt distant. too.

  "Well, that blow to your head gave you a concussion. It's not a serious one. It will get better." he promised.

  He lingered over me, his smile sliding off his face. "I'd like you to lift your left leg for me." he said. "Lift it?"

  He nodded and I tried to lift my leg, but I didn't feel anything. Nothing happened.

  "Now try your right." he said and I did the same thing. He nodded. "Can you feel that?" he asked.

  "What?'

  He straightened up.

  "What's wrong with me?"

  "When you fell from the horse, you also struck your lower back. We're going to have to transport you to Richmond where they have the medical facilities to properly evaluate and treat spinal cord injuries."

  "Spinal cord?"

  "The faster we get you moved, the better chance you'll have for some recovery." he added.

  The word some hung in the air like a soap bubble threatening to pop and disappear.

  "No," I cried.

  "Just relax," he said. "I'll send in your father," he added. My father? Was I hearing things?

  Seconds later. Jake stepped into the room, his hat in his hands, his face looking like he had aged years. Every crevice was deeper, his eves dark and full of pain, the folds in his forehead thick.

  "How you doin'. Princess?" he asked.

  "Jake. I can't move my legs."

  He nodded.

  "I don't know why I let you get on her. Every instinct told me it was going to be bad," he muttered.

  "Now, who's blaming himself for things beyond his control?" I tossed back at him. I had to keep closing my eyes because the room wanted to spin.

  "I should have known better. I'm older, more experienced."