“Yup,” came the voice on the other end.
“Chester, it’s me.”
“Yup.”
“You want to come back?”
“Yup.”
“Half hour?”
“Yup.”
Devlin hung up.
Now, that was what he called a good working relationship. Clear, concise communication. No complications.
He frowned.
But then, maybe it was easy because he had no desire to see Chester Raymond coming out of his bathtub.
Moving around the kitchen stiffly as his leg loosened up, Devlin made the coffee, got out three mugs and was cutting thick slices of whole-grain bread for toasting when Chester came through the front door. There was no need for a knock. They’d lost that formality years before.
Devlin watched as his friend halted and looked over the sleeping figure on the couch.
Chester Raymond was almost seventy, as gnarled and lean as an ancient birch tree, and tough as a northland winter. He was also a man who took surprises in his stride.
“Mornin’,” he said, after he marched into the kitchen. He took off his battered baseball cap, revealing tufts of white hair over a face that had years of hard labor etched in it. When he cracked a smile, which was often, he looked like his skin was too big for his head.
“Mornin’,” Devlin replied as he filled up a mug and put it down in front of the chair the man always sat in. “Thanks for coming.”
“Glad to. What’s on your couch?”
“I’ll introduce you when she wakes up.”
“She?”
Devlin nodded.
“Does this she have something to do with what’s down in your barn? I heard some whinnies when I pulled up, so I took a look.”
“Uh-huh. You want breakfast?”
“Sure do.” Chester knew not to push. The story would come out eventually and he was a man who bided his time.
Immediately, they fell back into their old pattern. The groom took his seat at the table and stirred three heaping spoons of sugar into his mug while Devlin got out a bowl and filled it with two measured cups of cereal, one tablespoon of peanut butter and just enough milk to cover it all. Chester had been eating the same breakfast for fifty years. Maintained it gave him a youthful glow.
Devlin put the bowl in front of the man and sat down with his own mug. “Why do I think I’m the only one who’s surprised we’re back having breakfast together?”
Chester shrugged, digging in. “A’cause y’re the only one.”
A ghost of a smile played across Devlin’s face. “You always were unflappable.”
“No, just more easygoin’ than you. You been wound tight since the day I met’cha. Always a fighter, even when things are going your way.”
“It’s been a while since things have gone my way.”
“Not true. Ya just can’t see where y’re going next right now.”
There was a long silence as the phantoms of the previous year danced on the table between them.
“So, it’s been a while,” Chester said between mouthfuls. “How’re ya doin’?”
“I’m getting by.”
“Saw the jumps set up in the ring.”
“They’re not for me.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“I’m finished competing and, even if I could ride, I don’t know…. Losing Mercy was just too awful.”
“Don’t I know it. Missin’ her myself. But things, they come into a life an’ they go out an’ that’s the way it works. You can’t hold yourself back because it hurts. What ya need to be doin’ now is looking for what’s come to take her place.”
With that, A.J. walked into the kitchen. And Devlin thought he was going to choke on the symbolism.
“Good morning,” she said, skirting her eyes over him before looking at Chester. Her flush told Devlin she was remembering what had happened up in his bedroom and he thought the color in her cheeks made her look radiant. She was wearing blue jeans and a work shirt and had yet to pin back her hair, so its amber weight was a glorious stole around her shoulders. With her smile of greeting for the older man, she lit up the room like a bonfire.
Chester blinked twice, as if he’d seen an angel.
“I’m A.J.,” she said, offering her hand.
“An’ I’m glad to have somethin’ better to look at over breakfast than McCloud’s face,” the man replied, shaking her hand awkwardly. “Chester Raymond.”
She laughed. Chester looked away and looked back.
Devlin frowned and went to get A.J. some coffee, muttering, “Better watch out. For a confirmed bachelor, he’s a real lady-killer.”
“That your stallion in the stall?” Chester asked.
“He’s my ball and chain, yes.”
“Good composition, smart eyes, lot a’ trouble. What’ll save you is his heart. He’ll perform well for the right person.”
A.J. accepted the mug from Devlin. “You know him?”
“Don’t need to. Took a peek into the stall when I got here.” Chester polished off the last bit of his cereal. “One look at an animal an’ I know what’s in there. Just like catchin’ the headlines of a newspaper.”
“That’s amazing.” A.J. sat down.
“He’s a speed reader, all right,” Devlin interjected.
“Well, when a body’s seen as many horses as I have, a person goes on instinct.”
A.J. leaned across the table. “You know, I’m so relieved to hear you say that about Sabbath. It’s what I thought from the moment I laid eyes on him, but after our first time in the ring yesterday, I’ve been doubting myself. Going over fences wasn’t a good experience for either of us.”
“Don’t be doubtin’ the instinct. A body’s more likely to go wrong ignoring it than listenin’ to it.”
“You are so right,” she said.
Devlin began to feel left out.
“You two want to keep going down this personal empowerment road or should we get to work?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
They looked at him like he was being a grouch and he felt ridiculous. Imagine him, jealous of a seventy-year-old man. Who looked like a basset hound.
Obviously, insomnia could drive a person mad, he decided.
A.J. stood up.
“I’ll meet you all down by the barn,” she said, grabbing a piece of toast and gulping down the rest of her coffee. She gave the old man a radiant look before leaving Devlin without a glance.