Elise paused and said, “What they didn’t know, what no one fully understood, was how much riding in the Olympics meant to her. Not just the win, but the performance. The ultimate test. It was one thing for her to lose her leg. It was another thing altogether to lose that experience. So she turned to me. Her little mini-me,” she said with a wobbly smile. “I’ve been groomed for this from the moment I first got on a horse.”
“That’s not so unusual. Many mothers are stage moms.”
She cast him a loaded glance. “There’s a stage mom, and then there’s Mommie Dearest.” He looked at her questioningly, and she realized that as a European he hadn’t caught the reference. “No matter how hard I try or how many ribbons I win, I’m never going to be good enough for her. I could win a gold medal at the Olympics and it still wouldn’t be enough for her. Because in the end, it still wasn’t Gerta Klug who won the medal. That was her dream. And only she can fulfill it. I can’t do that for her. I’d have to do it for me.”
“And you can. You’re good. Very good. You’ll make the team.”
“I believe you’re right. I could.” She looked him in the eye. “But not on Whirlwind.”
Karl went still, then gave one curt nod of his head. “No. Not on Whirlwind.” He shifted forward on his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wish Whirlwind responded to you more, Elise. I truly do. You must believe I am not trying to interfere.”
“I know that—now,” she admitted. “I wish I could connect with Whirlwind, but I’ve come to accept it’s not going to happen.”
Karl gave her reply some thought. “Your mother has many excellent horses. I think Wagner’s Dream could be a good match for you. She has enormous potential. We could work with her.”
Elise shook her head. “My mother would never agree to that. She bought Whirlwind to take to the Olympics.”
Karl’s eyes flickered with frustration at Gerta Klug’s iron will. But he persevered. “Then we’ll have to work harder. Whirlwind is such a terrific horse. He has great heart and the will to win. He’s young yet. Give him time. Maybe the next Olympics.”
Elise could hear in his voice how much he loved Whirlwind. He’d do anything for the success of that horse.
“I don’t think you understand. I’m not going to ride Whirlwind at all. Not to practice. Not to the FEI. Not to the Olympics. Not anywhere. I don’t want to compete anymore. I’m giving it up.” She smiled. “I’m taking the road not taken.”
Karl looked stunned. “This can’t be true. Elise, listen. Don’t make a rash decision because you’re angry at your mother.”
“I am angry at my mother. But Whirlwind declared his decision when he tossed me in the dirt. I heard him loud and clear. And now I’m declaring mine.”
“It’s not that easy to give up a lifetime of training. What will you do?”
“I’m not sure. I just need to get off this train. Take some time to do a lot of things I put on hold. I’m hoping it will help me figure out what I really want to do. Karl, I want to find my own dreams. And who knows? The road may lead back home and I’ll come back to riding.”
“If I can help you. Anything . . .”
“You can help me by helping Whirlwind. I know he’s a great horse. And I know he’s best with you.”
“Thank you, Elise. From you, that means a great deal.”
A look was shared. A white flag raised and graciously accepted.
“Have you told your mother?” His eyes gleamed with curiosity. This was, they both knew, the million-dollar question.
“Not yet. But I think she’s catching wind of it,” Elise said with a satisfied smile, thinking of the conversation Gerta and Angel must be having. She laughed out loud and took a long swig of her beer. “I think I’m going to bob and weave until I’m ready for the knockout punch. I’ll tell her I’m gay, too.”
Karl hooted, and they both laughed long and hard. Elise’s braid fell forward across her chest. She looked at it and suddenly hopped to her feet. She felt energized.
“Do you have a pair of scissors?”
Karl rose more slowly and stretched his back. “I’m sure there’s a pair here somewhere. Grace has thought of everything. Check the bathroom-slash–laundry room.” He gestured toward the room in the back.
“Well, come on,” she hollered over her shoulder. “I need your help.”
“My help?” His voice rose. “For what?”
Elise stuck her head out the door and snapped the scissors open and shut with one hand. With the other, she held up her braid. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
“Mein Gott.” Karl set down his drink and rubbed his jaw before following her into the back room.
SEVENTEEN
August 23, 3:00 a.m.
Isle of Palms, South Carolina
Noelle hits Isle of Palms as a Category One hurricane
It was a fitful night of howling wind, screaming louder and louder as the hours progressed. Cara lay curled up beside David on her queen-size bed in what was once her mother’s bedroom and was now hers. Her head rested on his shoulder, his arm around her.
They’d arrived back at the beach house only to find they had to reopen the door’s shutters in the punishing rain. David had opened only a few slats of the shutters, big enough for them to slide through before shutting the door against the raging storm.
Once inside, they discovered the electricity was out. Cara had her flashlight in her pocket and they spent the next few hours setting up lanterns, filling the tubs with water, and laying out matches, candles, and other emergency supplies. After that, all they could do was wait.
As the storm approached, the little beach house swayed and with every surge of wind that roared past she heard huge trees snapping and glass breaking and the thump of something being carried in the air and unceremoniously dropped. The windows were boarded so they couldn’t look outdoors at the storm. But in her mind’s eye she saw the palm trees bending half over in the wind and rain.
Throughout the night the wind screamed at the windows. They lay together in bed, exhausted from the physical work of putting up shutters and walking miles in the fretful search for Flo in the storm, and the mental strain of fear and worry. Somehow they’d managed to fall asleep, growing accustomed to the incessant gusts and retreats of the wind, in and out, like the heartbeat of a beast.
It was the silence that woke her. Cara opened her eyes to utter blackness. Not a single beam of light permeated the dark of the sealed house. She took a shaky breath and moved David’s arm from her chest. The humidity was like a wet blanket. In the eerie silence, the phrase silent as the tomb sprang to mind and rattled her. She rose up on her elbow.
“David,” she said.
He was lying on his back, snoring softly.
Cara gently shook him. “David.”
He awoke with a start, instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”
She put her hand on his chest. “Listen. It’s quiet.”
It took a moment for him to catch her meaning. She could barely make out his visage in the blackness, but she saw a movement and imagined him wiping his face, waking further.