Page 46 of Virago

Gia was grown now, and the jumps, while still in place and sturdy, had the look of gentle neglect. Weeds grew up around the base of the posts. Paint was cracked and beginning to peel, the bright stripes of red and yellow and blue had faded. The barrels she’d used for racing practice were clustered together in the far corner of the paddock out of the way. Rust was visibly taking them over.

Her adult life had taken her away from these interests. Taken her away, but not diminished them. She still loved it all, and she missed it often. Especially when she was swamped with her studies, buried under the classes she taught as a TA, stressed with the effort of trying to stand out in a field of standouts, and had nowhere to turn to find some peace and calm.

She wasn’t feeling all that different now. Swamped and stressed, but not, currently, with work. At the moment, her stressors were things that should have been comforts: Her family. Their love for her. Home.

With all that swirling in her head, Gia tied Vlad at the fence, then went around and made sure the rails were in place on the jumps and their poles were solid in the ground. Then she went back and swung up onto Vlad’s back.

Immediately she felt measurably better. This was a place she still belonged. Beneath her, Vlad was at full attention, quivering with anticipation.

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Wanna go, boyo?” He answered with a low chuff. Yes, he wanted to go. Gia turned him, put him in position at the head of the circuit. Then she squeezed her legs around his middle, and at the same time, made a single chk sound at the corner of her mouth.

Vlad vaulted forward as if he were leaving his gate on a track. He hit a smooth stride instantly and aimed for the first jump. With a subtle shift of the reins, Gia led him away from that; she wanted to do a running lap first. Vlad heeded the cue of the reins as if that was what he’d intended all along.

It had been years since they’d jumped together, but Vlad remembered as well, if not better, than Gia.

Goddamn, her boy could run.

On the second lap, she cued him to head for the first jump, a simple crossrail. On the approach, her body rose without needing to be told. Vlad, excited, got much more air than he needed for that little thing. But he landed perfectly and headed for the second jump, a Cavaletti. They soared over that one as well, but again, they landed smoothly. The third and final jump in this little homegrown practice ring was a bullfinch. Vlad turned toward it and his stride broke open so they were almost sailing. He hit his downstride at the exact right moment, and they flew over the wooden wedge beneath them.

They landed hard enough on that one to make Gia work to keep her seat, and it no doubt would have looked clumsy if anyone had been watching. But they didn’t have an audience. As far as Gia was concerned, after years out of practice, she and Vlad had nailed their little homespun event.

And she felt entirely better. Her homecoming had, so far, been a mixed bag, but it was still home. She belonged here, even if she didn’t belong in her old bedroom anymore.

Gia tossed her head back and laughed. “Good boy, Vlad! Let’s do it again!”

~oOo~

During their fourth run, Gia saw her father coming up to the fence. She registered that and then refocused completely on what she and Vlad were doing. He’d settled down with each successive trip through the jumps, and his form was almost perfect now. They went over the bullfinch perfectly, low enough for grace but without his hooves even brushing the wood beneath them, and landed like his legs had shock absorbers.

He ran toward the next turn, ready to go again, but Gia reined him down to a walk, and they headed to her father at the fence.

“You look good, squirt,” Dad called as they approached. “Need a helmet on, but you look great out there.”

“Thanks.” She drew Vlad to a stop and swung to the ground. The horse’s sides heaved, and his withers were slick with sweat. Gia palmed a couple apple slices from her pocket and gave him a big, loud smooch on his cheek as she fed him his treat.

“What’s up, Dad?” she asked. She knew the answer but didn’t want to have a whole song and dance about how he just wanted to hang with his girl. That was probably also true, but he was pissed about Zaxx, and it was the real reason he’d come looking for her.

Her father frowned. “Should ask you that question. You’ve been home more’n a day, and we’ve barely laid eyes on you. Seems like you’d rather be with other people than with your family.”

Well, she’d succeeded in cancelling the song and dance. Dad had gotten right to the point—or almost.

“Is that your passive-aggressive way of bringing Zaxx up?”

Sudden anger lashed through Dad’s expression. It was close to the surface, having been churning there all morning. “I haven’t been passive-aggressive a day in my goddamn life, Gia. If I got a problem, I make it known.”

“Okay. So make it known. Do you have a problem with Zaxx being here last night?” Before he answered, she led Vlad to the gate. Dad followed on the other side of the fence and didn’t answer until she was through.

He took the gate from her and closed it. “You know how I feel about you being with somebody in the club. It’s too close, Gia. Puts it in my face in a way I can’t get clear of.”

Halfway to the stable, she stopped short and turned to him. “Puts it in your face?”

“You know what I mean.”

She did, but she also hated everything that sentence meant, and everything it implied, so she said, “I really don’t. Spell it out for me.” And then she continued on her way, making her father follow.

In the stable, he helped her unsaddle Vlad. “Look, G. I know you’re a grown woman. I know you’re gonna do what grown women do. I am right with that ... as right as I can get. But”—he took the saddle from her—“you are my baby girl. You could live to be a hundred and twenty, and I could be—I don’t want to do the math on how old that would make me—old as fuck, and you will still be my baby girl. I can know you’re a grownup who does grownup things and still not want to know about those things. If you’re with a patch, it’s too close. I can’t get away from things that make me crazy.”

Carrying the bridle and saddle pad, she followed him into the tack room. “Daddy, that is a you problem, not a me problem.”

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