Straight From The Hip. Susan Mallery
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let’s go get your first customer.”
Izzy was too shocked to speak. She was expected to wash horses? She couldn’t see what she was doing and Rita’s perky suggestion that she do it by feel was total crap.
“Are you coming or what?” Rita asked.
Izzy trailed after her. She hesitated before stepping into the barn, then winced at the darkness that swallowed her.
The overhead lights probably provided enough light for everyone else, but not for her. It was like being in a fun house at a carnival, but a scary one, with twists and turns and unknown shapes lurking just out of sight.
“Over here,” Rita called. “This is Jackson. He’s a good guy. How you feeling, handsome?” She pushed a rope into Izzy’s hands. “Here you go.”
Izzy reached toward the large shape and touched the horse’s neck. She stroked it a few times, then turned toward the rectangle of light in the distance. Jackson followed her. They walked outside.
She led him to the post by the cabinet and tied off the rope. Everything for washing him was where Rita had said it would be. But there were at least three different bottles. How was she supposed to know which one was soap and which was something else? She felt around for the brushes and hoof pick. The door swung into her arm and she dropped everything in the dirt. After fumbling around, she found the hoof pick again, but not one of the combs.
Izzy straightened and stared into the distance. Nothing was clear. No matter how she blinked or squinted, nothing came into focus. This was how it was always going to be.
She looked toward the horse, waiting patiently. She couldn’t wash him. She couldn’t do anything. Whatever Nick and her sisters thought, there wasn’t a miracle here. There wasn’t anything but frustration and defeat.
She walked over to a bench by the barn and sat down. Some time later, Rita found her.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting until I can go home.”
“You’re supposed to be washing the horse.”
“Not today.”
Rita sighed. “I know you’re upset, but you have to trust us. We know what we’re doing.”
“I’m not a project. I’m not looking to be healed. I want to go home.”
Rita left. A few minutes later, the bell rang. Breakfast, Izzy thought, ignoring the grumbling in her stomach. She closed her eyes and imagined herself slipping into the warm water off an island somewhere. She could see the brightly colored fish, feel the whisper of the current on her skin.
Everything was beautiful. Everything was clear and colorful. All she had to do was reach out and touch whatever she wanted. She opened her eyes and stared at her blurry world. Not anymore, she thought grimly.
An hour or two later, Rita reappeared. “I don’t care who you are or what you’ve been through,” the other woman snapped. “But you left Jackson in the sun. Whatever you have going on in your life, we don’t tolerate cruelty to animals here. Get him inside now.”
Izzy hadn’t thought about the horse. Without saying anything, she got up and made her way back to him. “Sorry, Jackson,” she said and led him toward the barn.
It took her a few tries to locate his stall. He went inside. She followed him, using the walls to guide her in the darkness. After making sure he had plenty of water, she patted him in apology and then went back outside. She took her place on the bench and waited.
She had no idea of how much time had passed before Nick showed up. She sensed him before she saw his shape.
“You like to pout?” he asked.
“I want to go home.”
“Not an option.”
“Want to bet?”
Someone else joined him. Rita, she would guess.
“She’s not doing anything,” the other woman said.
“Not a surprise. She sat in front of a window all day for a month at home. Guess it’s not going to be different here.”
They were talking about her so that she would get angry, Izzy thought. If she showed emotion, any feelings, then they would know they were getting to her. It was the first step in her recovery. At least from their point of view.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” she said quietly, “I want to go home.”
She stood and walked toward the house. Once inside, she managed to find the stairs, then make her way into her room. She sat in the chair by the window and remembered what life had been like before. When it got dark, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. In the morning, she returned to the window. She didn’t eat or drink and no one came to see her. Izzy knew she would win. She no longer felt hungry or thirsty. She simply existed in an empty place where it didn’t matter that she couldn’t see.
“IT’S BEEN TWO DAYS,” Aaron said as he walked into Nick’s office. “She won’t talk to me or say anything and you know I’m very funny.”
“You’re the best,” Nick said, studying the proposal Aaron had put together.
“And you’re not listening,” Aaron told him, putting his hands on his hips. “She won’t leave her room. This is day three. How long can she go without food and water?”
He saved the file on his computer and leaned back in his chair. “She has a bathroom. She can get water.”
“She doesn’t look good. I think she’s catatonic or something.”
“You watch too many movies on Lifetime. She’s fine. She’s pouting until she gets her way.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to her,” Aaron told him as he took the seat across from his. “Nick, you have to do something.”
“I don’t know what,” he admitted, angry at Izzy for being difficult and at himself for failing. “She’s not a kid. She’s not excited to see a horse and able to forget her problems by taking a ride. This isn’t a new place for her. Barn kittens aren’t going to cut it. She’s angry and hurt and she needs a damn psychologist who can get inside her head.”
Except she wouldn’t talk to anyone. Her sisters had made that clear. She wouldn’t leave her room, participate in family functions. She wanted to…What? Stare out a window until she died?
There was life in her. He could feel it. And strength. But she’d given up. Once a person gave up, it was over. He’d learned that the hard way. He’d known that the second he gave up, they would win. But he’d had an enemy—death. Something to defeat, something to fight. And he’d had Garth. His friend had been his responsibility. Getting them both out had driven him to endure and ultimately to survive. What did Izzy have?
“If I could challenge her in some way,” he said, more to himself than Aaron. But how?
“Cards are out of the question,” Aaron said. “Maybe arm wrestling. Or have sex. You’re a heterosexual male. You know what to do.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Which was only half true. Izzy appealed to him. It would be that simple for him, although he doubted if she would appreciate him joining her in bed.
“Seduce her.”
“That’s not in the contract.”
“If you do it right, she shouldn’t complain.”
“Any other suggestions?”
“We could drag her into the woods and then help her find her way home.”
“Interesting plan,” Nick said. Would that give Izzy the will to push back. Or did she need something else? Something to hate. He’d had an enemy—did she