Excerpt from Chapter Ten - The Horse Angles

Excerpt from Chapter Ten 

- The Horse Angles 

Anne lay sleeping on the couch. After her meltdown, she had fallen into a deep slumber brought on by stress, trauma, and pain meds. She was completely exhausted and lay in a dreamless state of suspension, far away from her pain, cares, and concerns.

Samantha had covered her mother with a brightly colored crocheted afghan and sat beside her until the police returned to say their goodbyes. Rosie spoke with Officer Parker out on the front porch with the door closed so as not to disturb Anne. The conversation was held with a thin veil of professional politeness, and was short, terse, and filled with tension. Parker gave the clearance for Anne to leave at will, but threatened Rosie about hiding any evidence connected with the murders at the High Star Ranch. Rosie did her best to conceal her contempt for this man, but both of them knew each other far too well to be fooled by appearances. The officers left Angel Ridge with no hard evidence of the crimes they were sent to investigate.

The afternoon sun was leaning westward. A cool breeze had started from the north and the farm took on a lonely cloak of apprehension, as all of its inhabitants knew the worst was yet to come. The farm operations continued unabated, but those charged with the work walked slowly, talked in hushed voices, didn’t smile, and kept their heads pointed down at the dreary earth. It was as if a fog had fallen over the farm and smothered out the clarity of life and future.

When Joe opened the hidden door at the clinic and descended the stairs into the basement he found Nolan asleep on the military cot. The lights were still on, giving the space a cold sterile glare. Nolan opened his eyes.

“Are they gone?”

“Yea, they cleared out a while ago.”

Nolan sat up. His arm was in the sling, causing him to wince as he brought himself upright.

“You hungry?” asked Joe.

Nolan sat still for a moment as his brain came back online. His eyes blinked and he rubbed his face with his one good hand.

“Where’s Anne? Is she still here?”

Joe took note of the way that Nolan asked this question. There was an intention, a motivation that he hadn’t seen in Nolan before.

“Yes, she’s napping up at the main house.”

Nolan considered the words as if they had some great meaning.

“I need to see her.”

“Okay, let’s go up there and see what’s going on.”

“Give me a minute,” said Nolan, as he stood up and walked over to the sink and mirror. Within a few minutes he had washed his face and run a comb through his hair. Joe waited upstairs and chatted with the vet about some of the new arrivals. Before long Nolan came clomping up the staircase and appeared in the room with Joe and the vet.

He looked at Joe. “What did she say?”

“Who?”

“Anne, did she say anything?”

Joe saw a look of uncertainty in Nolan’s eyes. He was searching.

“I haven’t talked to her. I have been down here all day,” Joe said with a slight smile. His eyes sparkled as he probed Nolan’s intentions.

Nolan just looked at him with a straight face. “Well I’m going up there. You coming?”

“You know, I need to finish up here. Why don’t you just go along and I will catch up with you in a few. Then we’ll go get some grub.”

Nolan nodded.

“How’s that arm?” asked the vet.

“A little stiff, but I’ll mend,” Nolan said. He gave the vet a weak smile and turned and walked out. After being in the stuffy basement for the last several hours, the cool fresh air felt good on Nolan’s face. He started for the house with the intention of finding Anne and telling her how he felt about her. It was a strange mix of confidence and self-doubt that ran through his mind as he slowly walked up the hill. He knew that he had feelings for this woman, that he found in her a spark of life missing in him for all too long. Maybe it had been much too long. He had not pursued a love interest since Catherine had died almost ten years ago. The pain of that loss was much faded now. But worse than the pain Nolan had gone through were the remnants of doubt that had developed over the years. Nolan had never faced the loss. He had shut it away, turned it off. His imagination said he was over it, fooling himself into thinking Catherine’s death, and his love lost, was just a faint memory, something that many people went through. It had not occurred to him to consider the fact that the energy still lived, still existed within . . . transformed through the years of denial into a dark, brooding force, a force that kept him alone, apart, and separate. Quite unknown to him this force lay hidden in his psyche, entwined in his thought patterns, wrapped around his self perceptions, his most inward beliefs. As Nolan got closer to the house, it was this brooding force that raised up in his mind. With each step closer his mood darkened and his feelings of self-pity came front and center.

In the past this mood would have driven Nolan back, running for shelter. He would have fled into his work with horses or withdrawn to the books that he read. Those two things, horses and knowledge, were what Nolan had found to keep his dark thoughts at bay. He could lose himself in the presence of horses. He could find solace in the thoughts of others written out in countless volumes throughout the ages. As well-read as he was, Nolan had only skimmed the surface of psychology and death. He was completely blind to the facts about his inner turmoil, his self-perceptions. He kept plodding up the hill trying to think of what to say when he saw her.

A gust of north wind bore down forcing Nolan to pull his jacket tight around his shoulders, difficult with his arm in the sling. As he walked up to the house, past the dinning hall, past the paddocks, past the barns and arenas, he took note of the fact that the place seemed deserted. Everyone was either indoors or had their heads down concentrating on the task before them. He stopped for a moment to peek into the training barn. The stalls were empty except for three horses near the entrance. One of the horses, Coley, stuck his head out of the stall and gave Nolan a nod of the head. Nolan could see the horse within the blue flower, there was a sense of sorrow that passed from the animal. Nolan smiled and gave the horse some kind words and turned back toward the house.

As he came into view of the main house, Nolan’s heart began to pump. Normally a very confident man, with clear values, and transparent motives, Nolan was out of his element. But his heart nudged him toward his goal. His self-doubt slowed his steps but just as quickly, his bold intentions pushed him forward. He stood at the front door in a moment of hesitation, then knocked.

Anne could not have been more shocked when she opened her eyes to see Nolan sitting by her with his quiet gaze fixed on her face. In a moment of recognition she both rejoiced and recoiled. Rejoicing because, in her heart of hearts, she wanted to be near this man, to share herself, and to unlock the secrets of his soul. Recoiling because, in her self-reflective femininity, she knew her face was a nightmare, her hair a mess, and her breath foul. As she gained full consciousness she withdrew into herself. Nolan must have felt this energy being pulled back because his face altered from the current patient, thoughtful gaze to one of confused rejection. Anne put her hand over her mouth.

“Nolan!” The words came out sounding slightly angry. “What are you doing?”

Nolan read the expression on Anne’s face as disapproval. His calm was rattled as he struggled to gain some balance of his reeling feelings.

“I . . . came to see you . . . to see how you’re doing . . . I was afraid you might have gone.”

“Umm . . . ” Anne just remembered she had been planning to leave. “Yeah, well, the cops wouldn’t let me go. I am being detained . . . or something.”

Anne looked around the room. There was just the two of them. Rosie and Sam were nowhere to be seen.

“Where is everybody?” she asked absently.

“Everyone went down to the hall for dinner.”

“Oh,” said Anne reflectively. “Why aren’t you there?”

Nolan looked at Anne and smiled. It was a relaxed and satisfied grin.

“I wanted to be here with you.” He kind of shrugged as if to say, “Why do you think I am here?”

Anne was quiet for a moment. She looked at Nolan’s face, his chiseled good looks and his knowing eyes. Her self-conscious fears rose up and forced her to act.

“Nolan, give me a minute to freshen up, okay?”

“Of course.”

Anne threw the afghan to the side and swung her casted foot onto the floor.

“How is it feeling?” asked Nolan gently.

Anne struggled to her feet.

“Sore, it’s a bit sore,” she said, as she limped out of the room and into the main bath just around the corner. She moved into the small space and closed the door. When she looked into the mirror she was mortified. Her entire cheek from her eye to her chin was covered with the most ghastly bruise. The area was ringed with varying shades of a disgusting bluish color mixed with yellow and red-brown patches.

“Oh, my God!” Anne gasped. “I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Equally as bad was her hair tangled and matted from her nap. She glowered at her image. She finally meets a man she is interested in and this is how he sees her. Immediately her self-confidence sunk to a new low. She wasn’t one to make a huge fuss over her appearance, but she did have limits. Because, like it or not, she was subject to the media-induced opinions of the masses when it came to acceptable boundaries of beauty. She opened several drawers before finding a brush. She turned on the hot water and went to work on herself. At least she could present a more stable persona, bruised or not.

Nolan sat out in the living room listening to Anne shuffling around in the bathroom. He could hear the muffled sounds of running water, the gurgle of the drain, the opening and closing of drawers, her heavy footsteps. The dampened noise pushed through the thin walls and out to where Nolan waited and, against the backdrop of the silent empty house, seemed unnaturally loud. The noise only increased the tension Nolan was feeling. He sat on the couch going over in his mind what it was he wanted to say.

He thought back to the night before when he had finally caught up with Anne out in the desert. The warmth that she had shown him still lingered in his mind. He could still feel the way she had pressed up tightly against him as they rode back to the ranch with her gentle voice whispering into his ear. It was the subtle way that she had completely submitted herself to his leadership, opening herself up to him with such humble honesty, that had softened him. He saw to the pit of her heart and soul and was touched by the utter beauty that lay beneath that stern exterior façade. He longed to return to that space, that connection he felt with her. Sitting on the couch, waiting for her, he got a different feeling. His doubting mind bore a hole beneath his confident memories of what had happened between them the night before. The hole was made even wider by the tense reception he had just received from her, and before long the weight of the self-created doubts collapsed upon themselves sending his confidence crashing into the deep pit of ambiguity and hesitation.

“What am I doing?” he thought to himself. The answer did not come back. Instead his mind took him on a torrent of disjointed thoughts and old memories. He found himself thinking about Cloud Runner and the horrible moment of the passing of that great steed. He thought of the beautiful gift of the blue flower that had passed from the horse to him and the responsibility that came with it. He thought of his old horse Silly and how the pain of that passing still lingered deep within the recesses of his consciousness. He thought of Catherine and the love that had been so long lost, his heart grown cold and emotionless. His life was passing before him and the sheer loneliness of his days had been such a part of his existence it didn’t seem wrong anymore. The connection he had made with Anne Harper was like a small bright spark of possibility, a potential, a little light glowing against the dark heap of reality he had been living for so long. He longed to feel that hope again. He wanted to protect that small light, that spark, to keep it alive, to keep it from being snuffed out like so many hopes before. The doubts came again but so did something else, something unexpected, a steely resolve to reach out and grasp this possibility, to risk his heart and his honor, to stake a claim to his desires and go after what he wanted, what he deserved.

Nolan smiled at his own weakness. He was nervous. He had come for the girl and the possibility of rejection was tormenting him. In all other things he was confidant, a master. In this matter, the matter of love, he was as weak as an inexperienced teenager, consumed by his first crush. The thought humored Nolan in a surprising come-back of his wit and will. He had nothing to lose here. Only something to gain, something he knew in his heart Anne was feeling as well. He would take the lead, he would make the first move. Nolan’s newfound confidence, as fast as it rose suddenly came crashing down when he heard the bathroom door open and watched as Anne came out.

Anne clunked into the room limping hard on her new walking boot. In the few short minutes she was away she had managed to brush her hair, pull it back into a neat pony tail, wash her bruised face, and generally pull herself together. She looked beautiful to Nolan. He didn’t see her wounds. He looked past the outer scratches and saw into her deep pooling soul. Her hazel eyes appeared deep brown in the dim light of the living room. Nolan saw in them a light, not a physical light but the light of energy, of purpose, of life. It thrilled him and he smiled a goofy, tender grin that matched what his heart was feeling. 

Anne came around the corner and saw Nolan sitting on the couch with a smile on his face. He was looking at her with an intention that made her both frightened and thrilled. Her heart had been a fortress in lockdown for many years, but now in this moment she felt the key to that lock was before her, she felt a shimmer of life softly rising in her spine. It was like her womanhood was unfolding from a tightly bound knot. All the years of deflection, of denial, and refusal of the attentions from countless men had trained her spirit to reject these natural feelings. Her heart and love had been wound up tightly into a steely cold coil, a tension of opposing forces held in place by fear and self-loathing. When she came into the room and saw Nolan, that coil released itself and the energy held within the psychic spring burst apart, spinning wildly in all directions. The sensation produced a warm cathartic shudder from the depths of her pelvic floor to the very crown of her skull. She felt this shock go through her body and when it reached its peak of intensity she could not help but smile herself. The two, Nolan and Anne, in a moment of recognition, looked at each other with smiles of knowing gladness, their hearts danced together in the ancient patterns of understanding, kinship, and love.

Anne giggled. “You look like shit,” she said playfully, breaking the tension.

Nolan only smiled wider with a flush of embarrassment. “You look beautiful,” he said shyly.

Anne gasped in disbelief as she came closer. “Oh, really! Do you need glasses? Have you noticed anything particular about my face?”

“Well,” said Nolan looking at the great bruise stretched across Anne’s face, “purple looks good on you.”

Anne plopped down on the couch next to Nolan. They both felt the connection. Nolan reached over and took Anne’s hand.

“I heard you were leaving.”

Anne looked at the floor. Her thoughts of running away now seemed like ancient history.

“I don’t know what I am doing,” she said as she squeezed his hand. “Everything that happened just freaked me out. I thought getting out of here would be best.”

“But . . .? ”

Anne turned her gaze to Nolan. His eyes were full of life, kind and knowing. She saw in him the hopes that had been all but lost in her life.

“But . . . well . . . I had second thoughts.”

Nolan nodded. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you, to tell you how damn sorry I am for what happened. It’s my fault. I feel really bad about it.’’

Anne’s face took on a contemplative tone, her lips pressing tightly against her teeth. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said looking down. “I know what all this means to you . . . the horses and everything.”

“That’s not the only thing I care about,” said Nolan as he leaned into Anne and gently kissed her lips. The kiss came suddenly and caught Anne off-guard. She withdrew just a bit and the two sat there face to face. Nolan, not backing off, looked into her eyes. His knowing heart pierced through Anne’s hesitation and she surrendered herself to the moment. Pushing past her thousand reasons why this was a bad idea, Anne moved closer to Nolan and closed her eyes. The two embraced in a passionate kiss and in a rushing, endless moment they unleashed the awkward tension that had built up between them over the last two days. 

The kiss lasted only a few moments, but in those few moments Nolan saw the blue flower open its mystical petals arcing wide across his vision and reaching into Anne’s heart and mind. The misty blueness swirled delicately and expanded into the room growing ever larger until it enveloped the two within an inviolable indigo cocoon. Anne felt this energy as a rushing sensation tingling down her spine. The energy moved down her entire body pushing through the floor into the earth, then it came back up and through her crown, continuing up past the ceiling into the open air, then down again before settling just behind her navel in a warm, glowing sensation of wellness and power. Anne shuddered and pulled away. She looked at Nolan with an expression of open-eyed awe and a wide satisfied smile. Her face said, “Did you feel that? Was that real?” Nolan understood the look on Anne’s face and smiled too. He gazed into her eyes for an eternal second before pulling her back into another longer and even more beautiful kiss. There was a fraction of a moment when all the worries and pressures and memories of the past forty-eight hours melted away and the two sat embraced in eternal bliss, their souls dancing among the misty blue strands of light.

All too soon they pulled away and looked at each other in complete submission. Anne’s bruised face was lit up with a glowing perfection; Nolan’s face was a study of gentle love and masculine confidence.

“One more,” whispered Nolan as he pulled Anne back, again kissing her with deep passion. Anne gladly accepted his advance and wrapped her arms around his battered body. This energy was something she had never felt before. It was like coming home, a glowing warm reception of complete understanding, no secrets and no restraint.

Copyright 2013 - Mark Neihart