“I’ve never been out here before. Funny how you can live on an island so small, and still find new things to discover.”
Johnny put the rental car in park and undid his seat belt. Play it cool, he told himself.
It was tough, though, because those were the first words Tessa had spoken since she wandered out of Patty Cakes with a dazed look on her face.
“I can see why you love this island,” Johnny said, studying her face as she got out of the car. “It’s beautiful.”
She laughed softly, tipping her head back and wrapping her arms around her torso. “It’s like a miracle. People think small towns are boring, but honestly, I never know what to expect from day to day.”
“I would have thought, after the way you grew up, you’d hate small towns.”
Johnny spoke without thinking, caught up in the sudden realization that he was going to have to contend with how much Tessa liked Sanctuary Island while he tried to get her to come home to D.C. But the minute he mentioned her childhood, he froze. It was something they never discussed, and only partly because Johnny didn’t want to remind Tessa of the hell she’d gone through.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “Ignore me, I’m still not caught up on my sleep.”
But to his surprise, instead of tearing up or ducking her head in remembered fear, Tessa reached for his hand. Her eyes were clear and direct, her voice gentle, as she said, “No, I won’t ignore you. That would be a terrible beginning to our couples therapy!”
A keen sense of admiration pierced Johnny’s chest. She had truly grown into an amazing woman, this girl he married so long ago. “I know I’ve never been a big fan of the idea of therapy, but I want you know I plan to take this seriously. I could hardly do less, when this is practically the first thing you’ve ever asked of me, since the day we got married.”
“How could I ask for more than you were already providing? A home, a life, a future—my health! I owed you everything. I’ll never stop being grateful for what you gave me.”
This gratitude, again. He hated that she felt like she owed him anything. “Don’t make me out to be some kind of hero,” he snapped.
Tessa’s brows arched in surprise. “But you’ve always been my hero,” she offered tentatively.
“Trust me, honey, I’m no hero.” Johnny pulled away from her to lock the car and pocket the keys, taking advantage of the distraction to get his expression under control. “We’re going to be late.”
“Johnny, wait—”
But he strode off toward the big wooden barn, grimly determined to get this over with. A hand-lettered sign out front proclaimed the place to be the WINDY CORNER THERAPEUTIC RIDING CENTER, so at least they were in the right place.
The right place for Johnny to make a last-ditch effort to save a marriage based on mutual affection, respect … and gratitude. He didn’t know why the thought soured his stomach, but it did.
A tall, angular woman in jeans and a dark green flannel shirt greeted him at the open bay doors leading into the barn, just as Tessa caught up to him.
“Hi! Y’all must be the Alexanders. I’m Dr. Adrienne Voss. Very pleased to meet you.”
Johnny shook hands with the psychologist who’d be telling them all about how their marriage sucked. She was younger than he’d expected, but there was a serenity about her that made her seem older than her years. She wasn’t beautiful, exactly, with her scrubbed-clean face, plain brown hair, and wide-set eyes … but when she smiled gently at Tessa, Johnny felt a part of himself relax into acceptance.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Tessa was saying, a little nervously now that they were actually face-to-face with the doc. She’d never been big on doctors, Johnny remembered now. Probably because she associated them with the terrifying seizures from her teenage years, and the break with her parents.
He’d wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders before he knew he meant to do it, and to his relief, Tessa leaned into him instead of retreating. It felt good, safe and familiar, to have her there tucked against his side.
“We appreciate you being willing to change the focus of the therapy I’d signed up for,” Johnny told the doc. “I know it’s not what the bureau originally contacted you about, but—”
“No worries at all. Adaptability is one of the strengths of equine-assisted therapy.” Dr. Voss tucked her clipboard under one arm and lifted her chin amiably toward the interior of the barn. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to do and only an hour carved out today. We’ll start with the two-penny tour, but I’m going to want to get into our first exercise before y’all leave today.”
“What sorts of exercises will we be doing?” Tessa asked, nerves fraying her voice a little.
“For today, we’ll really just be getting to know the horses and each other.” Dr. Voss led them into the warm barn, their footsteps muffled by sawdust strewn across the floor. A wide corridor flanked by stalls on both sides opened out to a view of the pine copse behind the barn, and a sloping green hill down to another structure in the distance. Sunlight streamed in the open doors, catching on dancing dust motes and making the hay bristling from the feed troughs glow.
The smell of the barn, sweet bran mash and horse, dug memories out of Johnny’s brain and threw him back to the past. He inhaled deeply, feeling the muscles of his shoulders unbunch. “I haven’t smelled that since my mom sold the farm,” he murmured, gazing into one of the stalls.
A gray-dappled white horse poked his head out over the low half-door to eye him with the curious optimism of an animal that gets a lot of treats from strangers.
“This is Clover,” Dr. Voss said, pausing to hook an affectionate arm over the horse’s neck. “He’s one of our best therapy horses.”
Clover tossed his head as if he were nodding along, and beside him, Tessa laughed. Johnny wished he’d thought to bring an apple with him. “Sorry, fella, I’ve got nothing for you.”
“Um, I brought something,” Tessa said shyly. “I know horses like sugar cubes, so I thought maybe this would work. It’s okay if not, though…”
She dipped into the pocket of her denim jacket and pulled out a plastic baggie full of little brown candies. They were irregularly shaped, as if they’d been pressed into ovals by human fingers.
“Did you make those?” Johnny demanded, delighted.
Tessa flushed. “They’re just maple sugar candies. Easy as pie. Well, easier than pie, actually. All you need is maple sugar and a candy thermometer. So if the horses can’t eat them, it’s totally okay!”
“Maple sugar is fine,” Dr. Voss assured her. “Clover will love it, he’s got a real sweet tooth. Just give him one, though, or he’ll get addicted! He’s already likely to follow you around like a duckling, begging for more. You’re shameless, aren’t you, Clover? Here, hold your hand flat with the treat on your palm. Don’t curl your thumb up! He’s liable to think it’s another treat and chomp down on it! That’s perfect. You’re a natural.”
Tessa glowed a bit under the praise, or maybe it was the satisfaction of watching the eager way the horse lapped up the candy she offered and then snuffled across her palm, hoping for seconds. “That tickles!”
“There’s nothing quite like a horse’s nose,” Johnny agreed, stepping forward to rub his hand down the long, silken-furred face. Clover nudged him hard enough to knock him back a pace, his breath whuffling loudly as he searched Johnny’s torso for pockets that might hold more treats.
Laughing, Dr. Voss said, “I think you two are going to be very popular around here. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew, but I think we’ll work with Clover later. You made a good connection with him.”
Johnny was careful not to lift a skeptical eyebrow. Growing up on a farm, he’d learned early on not to take a romantic view of the livestock. The horses at his parents’ farm had been older, ornery, and not terribly interested in a kid who wanted to ride like John Wayne and Clint Eastwood, and Johnny had grown out of the cowboy phase pretty young. Angie was the horse-crazy one …
Cutting that thought off at the root before it could dig in and reach down to places he didn’t want to go, Johnny tuned back in to Dr. Voss’s explanations about the way the therapy center worked.
“They brought me in about six months ago when they started getting requests for more types of therapy than physical therapy. The Hero Project helped to underwrite the cost of expanding the center’s mission.”
At Tessa’s questioning glance, Johnny filled in. “The Hero Project is what brought us here, too. They’re partnered with the ATF, among lots of other organizations, to get help for people who need it.”
“For heroes,” Dr. Voss said, as if she sensed Johnny’s discomfort with that word. “Our heroes of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, and experiences. The Hero Project has sent me firefighters, cops, army veterans, FBI agents—you name it, we’ve dealt with it.”
Tessa’s eyes were bright. “What an awesome initiative. I’ve thought a lot about how to help the people who dedicate their lives to serving others, often at great personal cost. I’m so glad to know the Hero Project exists, and proud to be part of it, even in a small way.”
“That’s exactly how I feel, too. So when Ella Wilkes offered me the job here, how could I refuse?”
“Ella, that’s Jo Ellen’s daughter, right? So you know the owners of the barn.” Tessa nodded as if that made sense. “But still, to leave your practice in New York and come all the way to Sanctuary Island—it must have been a big adjustment.”
Dr. Voss shrugged one shoulder. “It could have been, I suppose. But Ella is one of my dearest friends, so I already had the start of a wonderful support network here. She needed me. And the work is very worth doing. Equine-assisted therapy is a thriving, growing field with a lot to learn. The bonds between people and horses are ancient and undeniable. For centuries, we needed each other to survive. Even now, here on Sanctuary Island, the wild horses depend on the laws we pass to protect their habitat and to keep them safe. And we, for our part, turn to them for help with all sorts of troubles.”
She paused beside a stall holding a small chestnut mare. “I don’t mean to go on and on, but it occurs to me that the circumstances that brought you to us are somewhat unusual. Most clients I work with have chosen us, out of a range of similar options—or they live on the island and are fully aware of what we’re doing here, and why. You two are different. John, your boss mandated this work, as I understand it. And Theresa, you’re living on the island currently?”
“I am,” she said, lifting her chin slightly. “And call me Tessa, please.”
“And I’m Johnny,” he added. He gave the doc a high-beam smile. She’d reminded him that he wouldn’t be heading back to his job without getting a green light from her, and he had no intention of being assigned extra talk therapy with the departmental shrink. “We’re not living together at the moment, but I’m hoping to change that.”
“Oh?” Tessa crossed her arms, drumming her fingertips anxiously. “You’re thinking about relocating to Sanctuary Island, are you?”
“I wish I could, but I can’t. You know I can’t. My job—”
“You’re not the only one with a job, Johnny. I mean, I know it’s not as important as your job, but it’s important to me.”
“Tessa. Have I said once that your job matters less than mine?”
Deflating like a pricked balloon, Tessa sighed. “No. You haven’t. And I realize how much your job matters, to you and to the world. It’s literally life and death, keeping illegal guns off the streets and out of the hands of criminals. Not quite the same as putting cinnamon buns in the hands of eight-year-olds.”
There was no way to argue with that, and Johnny didn’t exactly want to argue it—but he hated to see the defeated hunch of Tessa’s shoulders. All the spit and vinegar and fire and life he’d seen in her through the bakery window had drained away, as if Johnny had pulled the plug.
“I hope I’ve done some good in the world. The ATF gave me a way to help stop gun violence, and I’m good at what I do. But you’re good at what you do, too, Tessa. I’ve seen the smiles on the faces of customers leaving Patty Cakes. You make people happy. That’s an amazing gift.” He tried for a smile. “God knows I’ve never been particularly good at it.”
If part of him hoped Tessa would contradict him, protest that he’d made her happy during their marriage, he was doomed to disappointment. Instead she sucked in a breath and twisted her hands together nervously into the silence.
Dr. Voss clapped once, startling both of them. “Okay! It sounds like you two are ready to get started. I’m hearing that there are some logistical issues to be sorted through, but in my experience, logistics are the rational mind’s way of providing a reason for emotional behaviors. Meaning what you already know, deep down: you’re living apart because your relationship is in crisis. If we can weather that storm together, chances are good that the issue of where to live and how to deal with your respective careers will seem much less impossible to solve.”
Johnny looked at Tessa, who was biting her lip. The plump flesh was caught between her teeth, going a deep, tempting pink, and suddenly all Johnny could think about was biting that lip for her.
“Sorry, Dr. Voss,” she said, cheeks flushing.
“No need to apologize at all.” The therapist smiled, another one of those calm, accepting smiles as if nothing either of them could say or do would shock her. “This is exactly what we’re here for. To get things out into the open and work through them. I’m here to facilitate that process, not to take sides or write a prescription for what you should do.”
Then what the hell good are you? Johnny thought grumpily as Dr. Voss directed them out of the barn and down the hill to the back paddock while she wrangled the horse they’d be using for their exercises.
“I should apologize to you, too,” Tessa said abruptly, stopping in her tracks at the edge of the paddock fence. “I didn’t mean to pick a fight back there.”
Weariness dragged at Johnny’s bones. “You don’t have to apologize. The doc was right. If we don’t talk about this stuff, we’re never going to move past it.”
Not that he was happy about that. Going along not talking about stuff had worked for him for years. But if this was the way to keep Tessa in his life, he was willing to give it a try. At least it had the added benefit of getting her to open up about what was going on in that mysterious mind of hers.
“It’s just that where we live feels like one of those insurmountable problems that no amount of talking will solve.” Tessa’s mouth pulled into an unhappy curve. “Honestly, Johnny, I love it here. I’m doing fine. Better than fine! I really think you could leave me here and go on with your life, with a clear conscience.”
“Damn it to hell, I’m not worried about my conscience, Tessa.” God knew, there was an ancient stain on Johnny’s soul that nothing could ever remove. He shook his head forcefully, unsettled and stirred up.
“Please don’t snap at me. I’m trying to do the right thing, here.”
“By leaving me?” Johnny ran agitated fingers through his hair. “That’s not the right thing, Tessa. Not for me, anyway.”
Tessa’s flashing eyes softened. “Tell me what you need. I’ll do my best to give it to you.”
Because she thought she owed him. Johnny looked away, grinding his back teeth. “All I need is for you to try this with me, just for a few weeks. That’s it.”
Tessa was silent for a long moment. “And at the end of four weeks, if nothing has changed between us—you’ll go back to your life, and leave me to live mine.”
Could he agree to that? What was he doing here? Johnny’s chest felt hollow, an aching cavern that echoed with his own selfish needs.
Maybe he should let her go right now. He could head back to D.C., submit to talk therapy with the departmental doctor, whatever it took to get fully reinstated. He could sell their house, get an apartment that would be easy to take care of and hold no memories. He could volunteer for the next dangerous undercover assignment that came up, and the next, and the next, until his luck finally ran out.
Tessa would be fine without him. Better off, probably. She’d proven that in the year since she moved to Sanctuary Island.
Maybe these four weeks were a waste of time, a pointless exercise in torturing himself with what he could never have: Tessa as his wife. But before Johnny could unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to tell her so, he heard the clop of hooves behind them.
“Well, hello again!” A sunny voice sang out, making Johnny shoot a swift glance over his shoulder.
Sure enough, leading Clover down the hill with her hand on his leather halter lead, was the cheerful young woman he’d met earlier at the bakery.
Distracted and off balance, Johnny fell back on charm. “Quinn, right? This is my wife, Tessa. How did those cupcakes go over?”
Quinn’s big blue eyes sparkled. “Hey, good memory! And they went over like gangbusters, only not with Marcus Beckett. He’s not a sweets person, I don’t think. Unlike the ladies here! I brought the cupcakes along for my volunteer session and they were very well received, so they didn’t go to waste. Or to my waist, either! Which, let’s be honest, was more likely than me throwing them out, once Marcus didn’t want them.”
“You two know each other?” Tessa asked, frowning slightly. “I didn’t think you knew anyone on Sanctuary Island, Johnny.”
“We just met this morning,” Quinn explained as she unlatched the paddock fence and led the placid horse inside. “Johnny gave me some advice about baked goods and job hunting, although some of the advice was better than the rest.”
Faint relief loosened some of Johnny’s tension. “Sorry the job didn’t work out, but I think you’re probably better off. Marcus Beckett is—”
“My new boss!” Quinn bounced on the balls of her brown leather paddock boots, clearly tickled pink. “He totally hired me and I have you to thank, because you sort of warned me that he might need some buttering up, and then I wore him down and got the job! So thank you!”
In one lightning-fast move, she looped the lead rope high over the horse’s neck, turning him loose in the fenced-in ring, and threw her arms around Johnny.
Nearly bowled over by the exuberant hug, Johnny managed to keep his feet and his cool. But inside, all he could think was, “That’s it. I have to stick around. There’s no way a man like Marcus Beckett hired an innocent like this just because she knows how to pour a beer.”
Quinn Harper, with her freckles and bright, strawberry-blond hair and wide, guileless blue eyes … she tugged at every one of Johnny’s protective instincts. When she planted a loud, smacking kiss against his cheek before pulling away and running after the wandering horse, she reminded him so strongly of Angie, it hurt.
Stop it, he ordered himself harshly. Quinn is not your little sister. But she might need your help, all the same. And if that means sucking it up and enduring the hell of being around your wife without actually having her … so be it.
He’d lived through worse and come out the other side, stronger than before. He’d be fine.
Turning, he caught the hint of a frown on Tessa’s expressive face, an unhappiness that tore at his gut and made him want to promise whatever it took to fix it.
Maybe “fine” was pushing it. He’d better shoot for simple survival.