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Paradise was everything Tara expected, and then some. Stone, wood, and elegance reflected the age and origin of the inn while meeting rooms sporting computer consoles and wall monitors, spoke of modern refurbishing.
Determined to get her strength back, she considered the exercise room but instead chose to walk, exploring the crisscrossing paths of the gardens, thankful for benches where she could rest and drink in the rich scent of roses, and revel in the bright colors. But now a signpost with an arrow and a single word had her attention. STABLES.
How far away? Did she dare try it now or should she wait until tomorrow?
She shrugged. What the heck? She could always plunk on the ground if she got tired.
She strolled along a cobblestone roadway bordered by overhanging trees that made it seem like a tunnel. A long, cool, green tunnel with sound effects courtesy of tiny gray birds with black heads and white on the undersides of their wings. The busy little fellows kept her entertained until the vista opening in front of her had her breath catching in her throat.
Beautiful, classic white barns with red trim. Rolling hills. Black fenced pastures where horses were grazing, swishing their tails at annoying flies.
Tara went instantly ice cold, but perspiration beaded on her skin. Her vision narrowed to a pinprick, and pressure built in her chest like a horrendous weight was pushing on her. Heavy. Can’t breathe. Fingers shaking, she ripped at the buttons on her shirt as her legs weakened and the ground came up to meet her.
Help me! The silent scream reverberated and her head exploded with pain.
She tried to shove past the darkness.
Tara!
She couldn’t move, couldn’t answer. Couldn’t get air.
Tara! It’s Grace. Answer me!
Can’t breathe.
Where are you? The voice wouldn’t let her rest when that was all she wanted to do.
Dark.
Where are you?
Heavy. Dead. Hurts. Can’t breathe.
And then, blessedly, the darkness won.
Grace needed to stay telepathically open to Tara, so while she rocketed around the inside of the inn searching, she called Caroline on her cell.
“Have you seen Tara?”
“Not yet.”
“She’s in trouble, maybe hurt. I’ll work through the gardens and toward the barns, you work from there in.”
“Got it. Three of the girls are here. I’ll get them to help. And I just cleared Jake through the gate.”
Perfect timing.
Grace had searched the garden area by the time Jake parked. The grin on his face faded when she approached.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tara’s down. Don’t know where. She’s not inside or at the barns.”
The man was a thinker. He stood stock still for about ten seconds then reached into the car for the cat carrier. “I think we can trust Charlie to find her. They’ve got an uncanny bond.”
“He won’t take off?”
“I hope not.” The instant Jake released him, the big gray beast stuck his nose in the air like a dog searching for a scent, then he set off at a slow trot.
Grace continued calling out to Tara telepathically while she followed man and feline onto the cobblestone drive. They were headed for the horses. It made sense. Grace’s stomach churned. Tara might have tripped on the uneven ground, reinjuring her ribs, or hitting her head.
They rounded the corner to find Caroline kneeling beside Tara, shouting in her ear while doing a vigorous knuckle rub on the woman’s breastbone.
“Out cold,” said Grace as she dropped to her knees and cradled Tara’s head while helping stretch her out flat on her back.
Charlie shoved in, rubbing against Tara and pawing her face, making noises that were more like muttering than meowing.
Grace grabbed Jake’s wrist and turned it to see his watch while she kept her attention on the rise and fall of Tara’s chest. Normal. Laying two fingers on her throat, she counted heartbeats.
Ever efficient, Caroline produced a bottle of water and a small towel from one of many pockets, dampened the cloth, and then wiped it over Tara’s face and the back of her neck.
Letting go of Jake’s wrist, Grace concentrated, sensing a whisper of consciousness. Tara? You need to wake up now. You’re okay. We’re all here to keep you safe. “I don’t think she’s hurt. Talk to her, Jake. Tell her to wake up. Be firm and let the cat help.”
She backed away so Jake could kneel close.
Caroline was swinging her leg over the four-wheeler she’d arrived on. “I’ll zip to the barn and get the stretcher buggy.”
Grace frowned. “She’ll be able to sit up in a minute. Bring a golf cart instead.” Tara would be mortified if they strapped her to the all-terrain stretcher.
Caroline touched the brim of her ball cap in a mock salute and roared off toward the barns.
Barns, thought Grace. They were visible from here, as were the fields full of horses.
Tara woke quickly, and after a few moments, Jake helped her to sit up and lean against him while the cat climbed onto her lap.
Grace crouched so they were eye-to-eye. “How are you feeling?”
“Stupid. Confused.”
“Tara,” said Jake. “Go easy on yourself.”
“That’s okay,” said Grace. “Give her a minute to beat herself up and get over it. Then we’ll try to figure out what happened.”
No figuring necessary, Tara knew exactly what had happened. She leaned over to let Charlie rub her cheek. His purring was old, familiar, and soothing. She’d needed him, and, as always, he’d been there for her. But—more awake finally, it occurred to her that the cat and Jake hadn’t been there when she’d started on her walk. “When did you get here?” she asked Jake.
“About the time you were doing a header. Charlie led us to you.”
Of course he did. He would. They were connected. Had been for nearly forever.
“Looks like he’s forgiven me for staying away from home for so long. How hard was it to get him into the crate?”
“Your dad tossed in a pair of your big wooly socks, then I opened a can of food and set it inside. Cat almost knocked me over to get in.”
“Did he howl the whole trip?”
“Not a peep until the last hour. Then he never shut up.”
“Your color’s improving,” said Grace. “You ever have a panic attack before?”
Tara shook her head. “I was admiring the view. Pretty barns, fields, horses. A bright chestnut caught my eye, and then I guess I flashed back to the horse on the plane and everything went to hell from there. I could feel the weight on my chest, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Hot. Can’t get air—” She plucked at her shirt, shifted, and the cat slid off. “Can’t—”
“Tara.” Grace’s tone was sharp.
Tara blinked and wiped a hand over her face. “I nearly did it again,” she whispered.
“Your memory’s returning, and it’s going to be scary. When we get back to the inn, I’ll help you with some techniques to stop the progression from flashback to fainting.”
Caroline buzzed up alongside them and they all climbed into the cart.
“Flashbacks,” Tara muttered. “Does that mean I have PTSD?”
Jake shook his head. “Relax. PTSD happens months after an event and you’re surrounded by people who won’t let it happen to you. My family is famous for their debriefing skills, among other things.”
She sighed. “When’s Kelton coming?”
“Tomorrow morning, and he’ll stay until you’re ready.”
Once back at the inn, Tara grew frustrated with being told what to do. “I don’t need to take a damned nap.”
Undaunted, Jake pressed on. “How about some TV then? Watch a movie?”
“Read.” Grace waved a hand at a wall of filled bookshelves. “Something there, no matter what your tastes.”
“Enough.” She heard the sharpness in her voice and toned it down. “Please. I need to explore and remember everything before Dr. Kelton comes.” She didn’t want to be hypnotized.
“You can’t go wandering off unprepared. The property’s too big. Instead,” said Grace, “take one of the golf carts.
Jake jumped on that idea. “Great. I’ll go with her.”
“I need to be alone. I’ll take Charlie.”
“Great,” said Jake. “I suppose we can count on the cat to call for help if you keel over again.”
Tara bit back a snarl. He meant well, and she’d likely hurt his feelings because he cared about her—not like that was going anywhere.
“We’ll set you up with a personal security device.” When Jake’s eyebrows went up, Grace explained. “We often have people here who need protection, so we’re well equipped.”
“But what if she faints?”
“Need I remind you that we’re connected to more than Meyers Security? We’re equipped with all the high-tech goodies, such as personal GPS devices and heart rate monitors. Tara can wander quite safely.”
Wearing a tracking device was somewhat out there, but if it would get her some space and relative freedom, she was willing to go along. “I’m game. Suit me up.”
Before long, she and Charlie headed out to see if she could trigger another flashback, one she could use to figure out what had happened on the plane. She wasn’t worried about passing out again because Grace had shared a few strategies—telepathically.
She began the mantra as soon as she spotted the same bright chestnut horse she’d seen earlier in the day. I am fine. I can breathe. Relax and let go. I am fine. I can breathe. Relax and let go. I am fine. I can breathe. Relax and let go.
She settled both hands on her midsection, concentrated, using her stomach muscles to fill her lungs with air for a count of six, then held the breath in for six beats, and then exhaled slowly to the same count. As she did several rounds of this square breathing, she noticed the chemical smell from the stuff painted on the fences to thwart wood chewers. Then the sweet fragrance of new grass seeped in, and finally the essence of equine.
Her breathing stalled for a second before she determinedly resumed the pattern, knowing her memories hovered just below the surface.
Charlie bumped his head on her arm and she slid a hand over him, stroking until he curled against her hip.
The breathing pattern was solid now. I am fine. I can breathe. Relax and let go. I am fine I can breathe—
Sunlight faded.
Horse sweat, the kind that came with terror, burned against her face, and fear tainted manure ripened the air. Her fingers dug, searching for purchase on the slick metal walls.
Pinned under the dead horse, she doubted she’d get out alive. No one knew she was there. The crew wouldn’t think to check on her. Short flight, but if the carcass shifted upon landing.
A noise. Was someone in the hold? Coming to look for her?
She strained to hear over the roar of the engines. Nothing. She yelled for help.
Pain exploded, and then darkness.
She blinked and took in the peaceful scene around her, pulled Charlie onto her lap and continued to breathe slowly, evenly.
She’d been conscious and the horse already dead when something hit her on the head.
“So what do I do with that, Charlie?”
His answering one-eyed stare gave her no clue.
She took a long swallow from the bottle of water she’d brought along, and considered the container of trail mix, but her stomach rumbled in an unfriendly way. She decided instead to do a bit more exploring, to give herself more time to deal with what she’d learned, before she went back to the inn.
The electric cart made barely a sound as it swished along the paths, cruised past the barns and rows of paddocks, circled around.
Approaching the chestnut horse once again, she stopped and watched him graze. He wasn’t even the same color as the one in the crate. What is it about you?
Tara reinforced the breathing sequence, repeated the anchoring words, and rested a hand on Charlie while concentrating on the horse across the fence. The rhythmic sound of him chomping of grass, a snort—
Like a blinding flash of lightning she was whipped back to the thrashing and snorting coming from the crate. In spite of the roaring engines, she heard the stallion’s screams the frantic thudding of hooves against reinforced aluminum.
She’d wrenched open the hatch door and clambered into a crate filled with steam, climbed onto the tack trunk so she could get higher than his head and hopefully—
The lid shifted. She grabbed air where the cross tie chain should have been and pitched forward. The edge of the stall slammed into her ribs, sending a blast of pain straight through her. Pain she had no time for.
The stallion let out a terrified bellow and lurched forward, slamming into her. Then he’d stilled before letting out another blood-curdling scream. His body shuddered. Dying. She’d needed to get out. Get clear. In the throes of death, a horse could leap and lunge with extraordinary power. She had to get out. Didn’t dare hesitate.
Tara grabbed the hay net hanging above her to drag herself up, then backed toward the exit hatch, keeping her focus on the horse.
A hand closed over her face. She smelled the leather of the glove as she fought, twisted, and kicked. Every ounce of her reduced to the primal need to survive—just as the horse fought the approach of death. Her vision blurred, lungs screamed for air. And darkness won.
Tara’s eyes popped open and she blinked at the brightness of daylight. Charlie was standing in her lap with his front feet on her chest so he could rub his cheeks against hers.
She wrapped her arms around him and stayed that way for a long time, trying to settle, watching the grazing horse work his way toward her, occasionally looking up as though to be sure she was still there.
Grounding herself with a swig of water, Tara sighed and said to Charlie, “He killed the horse and thought he’d killed me before he tossed me into the stall.” She shook her head. “Horse had to still be alive, that’s how I ended up under him.”
But she hadn’t died.
“He must have still been there when I woke up. That’s when he bashed me over the head. No bloody wonder I ended up in a coma.”
The water bottle was nearly empty. Time to go back. She’d found what she’d needed. Now she’d have to tell the others. And wouldn’t that be entertaining?