“A little horse therapy never hurt anyone.” Pearce tips his cowboy hat with his finger.
I could swear that I see his eyes are damp.
He wouldn’t be the only one.
Sabin brings Mia from the water and rides toward us, trying very hard to contain a smile. When they are a few yards from us, he dismounts, keeping the reins in his hand.
He throws a hand over his chest and lets out a laugh. “Did you see that? She did it! I didn’t want to freak out when we were in the water, but oh my God! She did it!” His joy is infectious.
Chris and I hug Sabin at the same time.
Then, I go to Mia and pat the side of her face and her nose.Thank you, I mouth silently over and over.He needed that.
I turn around just as Pearce says, “That was a big deal, son. Very nice job. Mia has a huge amount of trust in you, and you should be proud. It took a lot of bravery to do what you did. I could see that. There’s a reason I rescued her, and now, I know why. It was to get you two to this day.”
In a move that surprises me, Sabin immediately steps forward and hugs Pearce. I can see how firmly his arms are holding on and how tightly he squeezes his eyes. So overwhelmed with emotion, he can barely get out a thank-you.
Pearce chuckles and softly pats Sabin’s back. “You’re a good kid. You hear me? You’re a good kid. You earned this.”
If only Sabin had grown up with a father who treated him like this, so much would be different. Pearce is the kind of father Sabin deserved, but I am uplifted by the thought that maybe my friend can capture a little of that now. Maybe some of the past can be made up for.
Sabin finally steps back and goes to Mia. He puts his cheek against hers. “We’re gonna do great things, you and me. I promise.”
I lead Chris away and give Sabin some time alone with Pearce and Mia. Even though it’s chilly, we head to the wet sand and take off our socks and shoes. I want to put my feet into the exact waters that Mia just faced, as if I could absorb some of Sabin’s victory. The cold waves splash onto the shore and crawl up the sand, running up over our feet, and the jolting temperature makes us both gasp, but we don’t back away.
My hand slips across Christopher’s waist, and we both face the horizon.
“You were wonderful with Sabin the other day. And with me. No one else could have done what you did for us. I love you for that and for so many things,” I say.
Chris hadn’t slept at all the night he came home, I confirmed, and his intervention with us took a toll that was not insignificant. After, he spent hours either collapsed from exhaustion or in tears with worry that he hadn’t done enough, that his words had not broken through Sabin’s turmoil.
Over the next few days, I found my strength regenerating. I was able to find secure footing on which to stand, and I gave him the praise and confirmation that he needed. As strong as Chris was, he’d reached his limit, and his collapse into me was more of a relief than a concern. It meant that he’d processed how serious Sabin’s fall had been. It just took some time after the initial events for it to set in.
Christopher’s solidity is always mitigated by a real-world reaction to stress, and I actually find that a reflection of his character. To react, and crumble even, under severe stress is expected. So, it was with ease that I caught him, as he had caught me so many times.
“It was not easy to see either of you so upset,” he tells me now. “I’m just glad I was able to help you sort through some of it. Sabin’s got an appointment with a really good psychologist next week. It’s a step, and I didn’t even have to force him to call. He actually came to me with a list of therapists and asked me to help him research them.”
I am enormously relieved that Sabin is determined to take control of his life. “I’m going to miss San Diego. Only a few more days here.”
“I will, too. I like it here. And I like being with Sabin,” Chris says. “Maine does seem very far away.”
“It’s probably unbearably hot here in the summer,” I point out. “There’s something not to miss.”
“Sure. It’s got to be miserable,” he says unconvincingly. “The winters are nice here though. And you got a lot of writing done. Your editor seems happy, huh?”
“She is.” I inhale salt air. “The parks out here stay busy over the winter, don’t they?”
He looks at me and smiles. “They do.”
“So, you might enjoy…”
“Being out here for part of the year?” he finishes.
I nod. “It’s something we might want to consider.”
“It is.” His arm goes over my shoulder. “It’s a beautiful life. Despite everything, all the shit we’ve been through, it’s a beautiful life we have.”
While I love my runs and I look forward to all of them—to the release, the energy, the mood, the restoration to my body and spirit—it’s been a long time since I’ve needed a run the way I need this one. My arms rise above my head as I stretch, and I admire the Matthews College campus in front of me. I have missed this place. Next weekend, we’ll be in Colorado for James’s graduation, and I’m glad his didn’t conflict with Eric’s and Estelle’s.
