I expected a half-knowing smile or a flash of annoyance; instead she clutched my hand.
“How is that possible? You’ll love it. You simply can’t have tried it and . . .” She stepped back to the horse and held his long head between both hands, lowering it to look in his eyes. “You aren’t scary, are you, Tennyson? Tell her you’re the dearest thing in the whole world.” She reached for me again. “Pat him. He’s sweet. You will love riding.” She let Tennyson’s head go, then grabbed his bridle with one hand and my hand with the other. She pulled us both toward the stable’s open door.
I glanced back to Gertrude, then I tugged at Isabel and dropped my voice to a whisper. “This isn’t funny. Can you stop for a sec and talk to me?”
Her eyes went wide with confusion, almost a look of panic.
“Isabel?”
“Why . . . What?” Her voice wobbled. I felt a shadow draw near and twisted toward it. A man emerged behind her. His presence startled me, but pleased her. “Here is Grant. If you hurry and change, we can set off.”
“Stop it, Isabel. I’m not riding with you.” Fear cracked my voice. “Give me a second to catch up. We don’t need to be all Regency for two weeks straight. Please don’t take it that far; it won’t be any fun.”
She shook her head. Black curls bounced about her face. “Why are you yelling? I only wanted you to join me. I was trying to do something nice and fun and—” She took off, running up the path.
I started to follow when a firm hand clamped down on my arm. I looked from the hand to the man. He was tall, made taller by his rigid stance. Clean-shaven, short hair. Military short. He wore a khaki shirt that matched his hazel eyes. He held me so close I could see flecks of gold in them. I tried to step away.
“I’m sorry I startled you, but may I talk to you?” He nodded up the path. “She won’t go far.”
“I need to go talk to her.” I looked to my arm. He still held it within his hand. “Who are you?”
“Grant Chessman.” His focus was not on me, but above my head. I followed his line of sight to Isabel’s retreat. Gertrude followed at a fast walk. “Your friend is hurt.”
“She’s playing some weird game. I just need to talk to her.”
The memory solidified.
“Didn’t you see her eyes? She’s not playing at anything.” Grant dropped his hand the exact moment I stopped struggling. “Serve in combat and you learn who’s afraid, who’s faking, who’s lying. Work with animals and you see the same emotions. Some will deny the pain and fear, some will push it down, and some will run.” He tilted his head back to where Isabel had disappeared. “Miss Dwyer has run to safety. Please be careful with her.”
He hadn’t meant up the path and to the house—but that’s where I needed to go. I took off before he could say more and caught up to Gertrude on the path. She gestured to Isabel in front of us, and I raced on. Upon reaching her, I stretched out to grab her arm, then stopped before contact. We needed privacy. She stiffened as I matched her stride, but would not look at me. So side by side and in silence, we walked around to the house’s front door and proceeded straight up the stairs to our room.
She opened the door and flung herself on her bed. I shut it and leaned against it, watching her. “Can you tell me what’s going on? You have Gertrude worried. Me too now.”
“Why would she worry about me? I have barely spoken to the woman. And why should you worry?” Isabel sat up. “Did you have to be so dreadful? I just wanted to go for a ride, and you embarrassed me in front of Grant. We’re here to have a lovely time and enjoy ourselves. This will be the last party of the season and then we’ll be back home where it is dark and cold and I . . . Can’t we enjoy ourselves?”
“Texas is never dark or cold.”
Isabel’s face fell and paled. She took a deep breath and seemed at a loss for how to reply.
I held up a hand to stop her. “You’re right. We are here to enjoy ourselves.” I pointed to my wardrobe. “Will you please choose a dress for me? I’ll be right back.” I palmed my phone and headed into the bathroom. I locked the door behind me.
Dad answered on the second ring. “Hey, dar—”
“I’m sorry I woke you, but do you remember that spring break when Isabel’s dad didn’t come home and she stayed with us?”
I heard a scratching noise. I envisioned him rubbing his face to wake up. “How could I forget? What’s going on?”
“She’s like that again. She’s doing that pretending or dissociative thing the doctor talked about. This is beyond role play, Dad. It’s like she really believes we’re at a Regency house party.”
“What happened?” Dad’s voice was strong and clear. He was sitting up now.
“Everything was fine yesterday. She was so excited . . . Well, she got a little upset because her dad set up all these interviews and—” My breath caught. “He got married yesterday. Her dad married some young girlfriend and sent Isabel a horrid e-mail. It was cruel, Dad. I couldn’t believe he wrote it, but she assured me it was real.”
“She should have been taken from that man years ago.”
Dad always contended that Malcolm Dwyer wasn’t just indifferent to his daughter, his neglect was abusive. One spring break Malcolm had approved his nanny’s request for vacation but then had not returned home to Isabel. She came home from school to a locked house, broke in through a window, and we only found her three days later when I went to empty her mailbox and pick up the newspapers in the driveway. She recognized me, but neither of my parents. Dad, because he was listed as the school’s emergency and medical contact, was able to take her to the doctor. He never told me the full extent of what was said, but the result was we brought Isabel home to our house.
“What do I do now?”
“Back then, Dr. Milton said rest and safety. It took a few days, but she was fine. Does she know you?”
“It took a second, but she does.”
“That happened last time too. She recognized you almost immediately. It took her almost a day for your mom and me, then after three days she was fine.”
“Do I need to take her somewhere? A doctor? Or I wonder if we should hop a flight home. But you should see her with the horses—she’s confused, but she was happy. Before I upset her, that’s what struck me. Remember how happy she was that week? It’s like her protective coating is gone again.”
“Then she feels safe there. Don’t take her anywhere and don’t upset her. Let me call Dr. Milton and I’ll get back to you. Do what we did before—stay close and reassure her.”
“Do I need to call her father?”
“You can. He didn’t come fifteen years ago; I doubt he’ll do different now. I’d throttle that man if I could.”
Dad’s conviction soothed my fear. “Call me back?”
“Of course, Peanut. You can do this.”
I nodded as if he could see me.
“I’ll call as soon as I reach Dr. Milton. Text or call if you need me.”
“I will. Thanks, Dad.”
I tapped off the phone and exited the bathroom. Isabel stood next to my bed holding up a plum-colored dress. She was grinning.
“This one.”
Chapter 13