The Place I Belong (18 page)

“Gross squared,” Matt responded. “I’ve had snails.”

“What’d you think?” his father asked, his face alight with interest.

“Too chewy but not bad.”

Hannah could see Matt begin to withdraw, almost as though he realized he was having a civil conversation with his father and
that was a bad thing in the boy’s mind. She leapt in to save Adam
from a rebuff. “Well, I’ve chowed down on duck tongues,” she said.

The two Bosches gave her nearly identical looks of disbelief. “Why?” Matt asked.

“It was a dare,” Hannah said. “A friend and I were visiting New York City and they had them in a Chinese restaurant.”

“Well?” Adam prompted.

“Let’s just say I never ate another one.”

“Smart move,” Matt said. He rolled the horse treat around on his palm. “Should we make Satchmo sit up before I try to feed him this?”

Hannah looked at the pony as she debated. He was lying on his side with his front legs stretched out straight and his back legs slightly folded. His belly rose and fell with his breathing, and other than an occasional flick of an ear he appeared to be asleep.

“Considering how you and I reacted to the smell of the horse treat, I think you should hold it near his nose and let him get a good whiff of it. If he shows interest, we’ll work on getting his head up.”

Matt nodded and waved the horse treat in front of Satchmo’s velvety nose a few times.

“Crumble it up in your hand,” Adam said. “That will release more of the scent.”

His son dug his fingers into the ball, breaking it apart so that Hannah could smell the fragrance from where she sat. He held it to the pony’s nostrils.

It seemed as though nothing moved for a long moment before Satchmo’s eyelid popped open, his pale lashes accentuating the liquid darkness of his eye.

“That’s it, Satch,” Matt said, swirling the bits of treat around in his palm. “Yummy stuff.”

The pony fumbled against the boy’s hand with his lips before his long pink tongue snaked out to lick the food up.

“He likes it,” Matt said, lifting a face aglow with happiness.

“Your father makes a mean horse treat,” she said, wanting credit to go where it was due.

Matt grabbed another treat from the bowl and smashed it in his slobber-slicked palm. “Here, Satch, have another one.”

Hannah snuck a look at Adam to find the lines of tension
around his mouth smooth away as he watched his son feed
the pony.

When Matt reached for a third treat, Satchmo tucked his front legs under him and rolled up so he could get his nose directly into the bowl.

“Yessss!” Matt gave a fist pump.

As the pony munched on the gourmet treats, Matt
stretched his legs out with a sigh of release. “I was getting kind
of cramped,” he said, flexing his feet in the ratty red high-tops. He watched Satchmo in silence before turning to his father. “I guess you know how to make good-tasting food for pretty much anyone.”

“Anything I can do to help Satchmo get better,” Adam said. “I’ll make him more if Dr. Linden says it’s okay.”

“Let’s see if he’ll drink some water first.” Hannah stood and walked to the water bucket hanging in the corner of the stall. She started to unhook it, only to have Adam’s hand close around the handle and lift it away from her.

“Shall I put it on the straw in front of him?” he asked.

She nodded and watched him carry the brimming bucket and ease it down beside the now empty feed bowl without spilling a drop.

“Wash it down with this, Satch,” Adam said. “Vintage well water straight from the hose.”

The pony sniffed at the bucket and turned his head away.

“Can you make water taste better?” Hannah asked, looking at Adam with a wry smile.

He stood looking down at the bucket with his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans. “Hmm,” he said finally. “Let me go back to the feed room and work on it.”

“I was kidding,” Hannah said.

“He needs fluids, right?” Adam said, picking up the bucket.

“Yes, but I can get them into him intravenously, if necessary.”

“I might as well give it a try,” he said. “All he can do is reject it.”

Hannah saw Adam check on Matt with a quick, sideways glance before he walked out of the stall.

Matt stood up and rolled his shoulders. “It’s good that Satch ate, isn’t it?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

“Very good.” Hannah watched the pony, who was now drowsing with his nose touching the straw.

“It’s cool the horse treats worked,” Matt said, his hands in his back pockets in an unconscious echo of his father’s stance.

“I have to get your dad’s recipe,” Hannah said. “For other finicky equine eaters.”

“I’m pretty sure his recipes are secret. So other chefs can’t copy them.”

Surprised by Matt’s knowledge of his father’s profession, Hannah saw an opening that she thought was worth taking. “So you understand that your father just put his world-class talent at the disposal of a sick pony?”

“Yeah.” Matt kept his gaze on Satchmo.

“And you realize he’s leaving his internationally famous restaurant in the hands of his staff on a Friday night to stay here?”

Matt glanced at her for a split second before he nodded.

“So I’d say he’s putting you first in his life.”

The boy’s blue eyes were focused on her now. She saw a storm of conflicting emotions swirling there. Hope, fear, denial, and that bone-deep sadness that tore at her heart.

“For now,” he said in a low voice. He dropped his gaze back to Satchmo. “I heard him talking on the phone. He’s trying to find someone from my mother’s family to adopt me.”

Chapter 14

H
ANNAH JERKED AWAKE
. She blinked as she made out the rough beams supporting the barn’s roof in the near darkness above her, reminding her of where she was. After a dinner of take-out sandwiches, Sharon had rounded up sleeping bags for the three of them when they refused to leave Satchmo’s stall. As Hannah rubbed her hands over her face, she
heard the harsh rasping of the pony’s breath. That must h
ave been
what yanked her out of her uneasy sleep.

Adam’s low voice came from her right. “I was about to wake you. He just started breathing like that.”

She turned her head to find Adam propped up against the wall, his long legs extended in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Exhaustion made his handsome face look gaunt.

Matt’s revelation socked her in the gut again. She couldn’t reconcile this man who was camped out in a stable beside an ailing pony with the person Matt claimed wanted to give his son away. Remembering her own encounter with the injustice of slander, she decided not to condemn Adam before he’d had a chance to tell his side of the story. “Have you slept?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’m used to late hours.” He stood and leaned down to offer his hand.

She unzipped the sleeping bag and put her fingers in his, feeling his strength as he pulled her to her feet without visible effort. “Maybe he’s just in an awkward position,” she said, trying to ease his worry. She turned her watch to catch the low light slanting in from the corridor. It showed 3:20 a.m., right in the darkest hours of the night when all living beings seemed to loosen their hold on life.

She walked quietly to the pony so as not to rouse Matt, who was wrapped in a sleeping bag beside Satchmo. Shortly after they’d eaten, the pony had put his head down and stretched out on his side again. He still lay in much the same way.

Hooking her stethoscope in her ears, she moved it over Satchmo, listening to his heart and lungs, where the rasp was magnified, and to the faint gurgling of his digestive system. She put the scope away with a sigh before pulling his lips open and pressing a fingertip against his gums to test the capillary refill rate. The pony whiffled a little but didn’t move.

She’d been hopeful when Satch had consumed Adam’s gourmet offerings, but the little creature was drifting away from them again. She glanced up at Adam, trying to keep the dismay from showing in her expression.

He squatted beside her. “Is there anything else we can do for him?” he asked softly, tracing a long arc down Satchmo’s flank with the palm of his hand.

She sat back on her heels and blew out a breath of frustration. Letting her gaze wander around the quiet, dimly lit stall,
she noted the rise and fall of Satchmo’s belly, Matt’s cheek resting
on his out flung arm, and finally the marks on the back of Adam’s
hand as he continued to stroke the pony’s rough, reddish coat. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of horse, straw, and Adam’s faint spiciness—which was now reminiscent of a feed room rather than a kitchen. That brought a tiny smile to her lips.

Everything was peaceful and serene. Her eyes flew open. She pulled the elastic band out of her sagging ponytail, gathered all the loose strands tightly at the back of her head, and wound the elastic back on with a snap. “We’re making it too easy for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Matt had the right idea earlier. We’re going to give Satchmo all the stimulus we can manage. Matt, wake up.” She reached for the sleeping boy, but Adam caught her wrist to stop her. Startled, she looked at him to find a fierce protectiveness burning in
his fac
e.

“What if this doesn’t work and Satchmo dies? Matt shouldn’t have to watch that,” Adam said, still holding her wrist.

“It won’t work without Matt. He’s the only one who can pull Satch back from the edge.” She sat back on her heels.

Adam released her, his gaze resting on his son as the ugly grating of Satchmo’s breathing filled the stall. After a long moment of stillness, Hannah sighed in relief when Adam leaned over and gently shook Matt’s shoulder. “Matt, Satch needs you.”

“Wha—?” Matt half-opened his eyes before burrowing down into the sleeping bag.

Adam shook him again. “Wake up. You need to talk to Satch.”

Matt flopped onto his back, and squinted up at his father. “Satch? Is he okay?”

“No, he’s fading. We need you to make him hang on.”

As Matt dragged himself onto his elbows, Hannah began shaking Satchmo. “Hey, buddy, wake up! We’re going to get you on your feet.”

Other than pivoting one ear backward, the pony ignored her.

“I thought he was supposed to rest,” Matt said. Even as he spoke, he started to tickle Satchmo’s nose whiskers.

“Yeah, but that isn’t working,” Hannah said. “We’re going to give him a reason to stick around.” She looked at Matt. “And that reason is you. Talk to him.”

The boy swallowed and scratched his head. “Um, Satch, you got to get up. The doctor says so.”

Hannah stood and walked around to stand by the pony’s back. Waving Adam around to join her, she knelt and slid her hands as far under Satchmo as she could get them. “We’re going to persuade him to sit upright,” she said, while Adam knelt beside her and matched her position. She felt the brush of his shoulder against hers as an almost electric shock, but pushed the sensation to the back of her mind to get to work on the pony. “Matt, grab his halter and pull his head up while we roll him. Now.”

“C’mon, Satch,” Hannah nearly shouted as she levered her shoulder against the pony’s back. “Up you go!”

Adam grunted, and she felt the weight of the pony shift. Matt was tugging Satchmo’s head up. “That’s it, Satch,” the boy said. “Get up! I need you to stay alive.”

She heard the sharp intake of Adam’s breath at Matt’s last sentence. Adam must have heaved harder, because Satchmo’s dead weight came off her arms as the pony tucked his legs in and sat up.

“Okay!” Hannah said, dusting her palms on her jeans. “Now we have to get him on his feet.”

Adam eyed the pony. “How much does he weigh?”

“About six hundred pounds, I’d guess,” Hannah said. “Don’t worry. He’s going to get up by himself. With a little
encouragement
.”

She got to her feet, while Adam surged up beside her. “What sort of encouragement did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Matt and I are going to pull. And you’re going to push,” Hannah said, grabbing the lead line that hung by the door. Matt released the pony’s halter and scrambled to his feet.

“By push I assume you mean from the rear,” Adam said with a dry undertone. He knelt at Satchmo’s rump and worked his hands beneath the pony.

“At least he can’t kick you when he’s lying down,” Hannah said, giving him full marks for not hesitating to position himself there.

“Now you’ve given me something else to worry about,” Adam said, but she noticed him shifting closer to the pony to improve his leverage.

Hannah clipped the lead line to one side of Satchmo’s halter and threaded it under his chin and through the other side. “Matt, I want you on his right with your hands on his halter so you can pull too. But mostly I want you talking in Satch’s ear, convincing him he’s needed here.”

Matt looked panicky. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Is Satchmo important to you?” Hannah asked.

Matt nodded.

“Put that in your voice. The words don’t matter but he’ll hear the emotion.”

She cast a quick glance at Adam, who was wearing an expres
sion combining disbelief with something that might be admiration. Turning back to the pony, she wound the end of the lead line around
her left hand and leaned down to grip it up close to the halter with her right. Matt bent down on the opposite side of Satchmo’s head, wrapping his fingers around the cheek strap of the pony’s halter.

“Everyone ready?” Grunts of assent came from her assistants. “Matt, you start talking while I count to three. On three we start encouraging.”

“Okay, Satch,” Matt said. “You’ve had your rest. You have to get up now.”

“One,” Hannah said.

“I need you to get better, Satch,” Matt said, a pleading note in his voice. “So we can be friends.”

“Two.”

“We need time together, Satch.” Matt’s voice was wavering. “If you don’t get better we won’t have that.”

“Three!” Hannah threw her weight against the lead line as Matt tugged at the halter. She could hear Adam muttering, “C’mon, Satchmo. Get the heck up!”

The lead line bit into the skin on Hannah’s hands as she strained against the pony’s dead weight. Matt’s feet were braced and his arms were straight out as he put his whole body into t
he tas
k.

“Satchmo,” the boy yelled, his voice a cry of anguish. “Please don’t die!”

Hannah felt the pressure on her hands lessen slightly and she took up the slack. “He’s moving,” she said. “Keep it up!”

A muffled groan of effort came from Adam, still crouched behind the pony. Satchmo scrambled to his feet.

“He’s up!” Matt said, his face lit with joy. “We got him up!”

“I think your father did most of the work,” Hannah said, as Adam put his hands on his thighs and bent over, sucking in a long breath. He shook his head and gulped in more air.

She handed the lead line to Matt. “Now we have to keep
him up
.”

“How?” Matt asked, looking at the rope in his hand as though it were a snake.

“By taking him for a walk in the barn. You’re going to keep talking to him and let him see the other horses. He’s used to having a companion, so he should find that comforting.”

“But he tried to bite the one who came up to him in the paddock,” Matt said.

“That was before he met you. You’ve been a good influence on him.”

“That’s cool,” the boy said, looking pleased.

Hannah unlatched the door. “Go ahead. When you get tired, bring him back and I’ll take over.”

As Matt led Satchmo past, she gave the pony’s rump a pat before she put her back against the wall and slid down to the straw to put her head in her hands. Now that the crisis was temporarily past, the weight of her near-failure crashed down on her like a ton of bricks.

Adam was sitting on the straw beside her in an instant. “Are you all right?” he asked. She felt the comfort of his hand on her shoulder.

“I nearly lost him,” she said into her hands.

Adam wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his side. She felt his breath stir her hair as he said, “You’ve worked a miracle. Sharon told me how difficult it is to diagnose and t
reat EPM
.”

“I still don’t know if it’s EPM. If it is, I really shouldn’t have Satchmo up and walking around.” She thought of all the research she’d done on the sickness. None of her sources recommended forcing the horse to stay on its feet. She dropped her hands onto her lap and allowed herself to lean into the warmth and solidity of the man beside her.

“When I prepare a cut of beef, I adjust the temperature, the cooking time, and the seasoning based on what my instinct says about the specific piece of meat. That’s what makes me good at my job,” Adam said. “You’re just as good at yours. You read your patient and decide what will work best for him.”

“Except I don’t plan to eat Satchmo.”

She felt the tension leave Adam’s body as he shifted and snugged her closer against him. She couldn’t stop herself from slipping her arms under his leather jacket and wrapping them around his waist.

“Hannah,” he murmured, his voice resonant with the same awareness stirring in her.

She felt the press of his lips on top of her head. Flashes of their previous night together sparked in her mind, and she lifted her head to him. All the fear and anxiety of the night needed an outlet and she found it in kissing him, tilting her head so she could lose herself in the textures of his mouth.

She welcomed the bloom of mindless sexual arousal down low in her belly; it blotted out her questions about the man who had brought it to life. For now, there was just the enveloping, molasses-laden scent of Adam, the feel of his warm, strong hands touching her through the cotton of her shirt, the hot slide of his lips down the sensitive line of her jaw, the shelter of his hard, muscular body. She fell into it, letting him wipe everything else from her mind.