Leaping Hearts(72)

Once she got to the hospital, she parked and ran into the emergency room, finding Devlin right away. He took her into his arms.

“How’s he doing?” she asked against his shoulder.

“They’ll know more in a little while. All we can do is wait.”

“Did you call his family?”

“I left a message with his closest relative but she lives in another state. I’m all he has.” Devlin’s features were pale and tight with worry but his eyes were clear.

“I can’t imagine going through this without you,” he told her.

“I’m glad I can be here,” she said softly.

He led her into a sparse waiting room and they took up a vigil on plastic thrones of worry. Besides a fleet of ugly orange chairs, the only other furniture around were a couple of exhausted-looking tables. Their chipped, laminated tops, done in a repeating fake wood grain, were covered by dog-eared copies of popular magazines. In the far corner, there was a vending machine and hanging from the ceiling was an old TV that had a black-and-white picture but no sound. On it, soap-opera characters were emoting to one another with mute intensity.

“I don’t want to lose him,” Devlin muttered. “Mercy was bad enough but him as well?”

A.J. stroked his shoulder as he leaned forward.

“He’s the closest thing to a father I’ve got,” he said.

She sensed that, in the midst of the nightmare, he wanted to talk. “How long have you known him?”

“Years and years and years. He was my first boss. The first adult I ever listened to. He taught me how to be a man.” Devlin pushed a hand through his hair. “God knows, there was no one else around willing or able to. I never knew my own father.”

“Your mother raised you?”

“No. I had a series of foster parents, was bounced around every couple of years. No one wanted to adopt an older kid, particularly after I got in some trouble.”

“How did you get orphan—” She flushed, not wanting to add any pressure. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

“That’s okay.” He flexed his arms and brought his hands together in a bridge. Resting his chin on them, he mused, “My past is as good a distraction as any.”

After a long moment, he said, “According to my file, my mother was seventeen, unmarried and alone when she died giving birth. No one came forward to claim me. My father had deserted her in the middle of the pregnancy and I guess her parents were horrified at their daughter’s indiscretions. Didn’t want evidence of a moral lapse kicking around their house.”

“Your grandparents just let you go?”

Devlin nodded.

“Once, when I was sixteen, I looked them up. An old man with eyes like mine shut the door in my face after telling me never to come back.” He leaned back in the plastic chair. “Growing up, I acted out a lot. Got arrested a few times for stealing. Never graduated from high school, and college wasn’t even on the radar screen. When I left the system, I had nothing to do, nowhere to go and was mad as hell with everyone and everything. At the age of eighteen, I was wandering around aimlessly, trying to make enough money to feed myself, when I showed up at a stable, looking to groom. I don’t know why I thought they’d take me in. I’d never been around horses before.”

Devlin’s smile was sad. “That’s when I met Ches and he saved my life. After I walked up a long, dusty drive to the stable, he was the first person I met. I don’t know what he saw in me but he took one look at me and said, ‘Boy, I’m gonna take care of you.’ And he did. He always has.”

A.J. was enthralled by what he was revealing. It was all the intimate details she’d wanted to know, all the things that articles on him hinted about but never quite got right. She felt an overwhelming compassion for him, for everything he’d been through, as she imagined how hard his early life had been. How alone he must have felt as he went from home to home, always as an outsider. How much Chester’s love must have meant to him. How incredible his journey to the top echelons of the sport was.

“When did you start riding?”

“About two weeks after I arrived. One of the Thoroughbreds, a champion jumper, was being led into the barn after a workout. I looked up from the manure I was shoveling and told the rider the horse was lame. The guy brushed me off like dirt but Chester came forward, checked the leg and backed me up. Turned out the mare had a hairline fracture in her foreleg.

“Later, Chester asked how I knew and I said I just did. Then he wanted to know if I’d ever been up on a horse. I said no but I’d like to give it a try. An hour later, I was in the ring.” He looked at her. “Everything I’ve done coaching you comes from him. He’s the master at it and could have been famous but he never was inclined to tip his hand to the talent. He’s always been a free spirit, never wanted to be tied down. I was the only one he ever trained.”

“Then he certainly was a success, wasn’t he?”

Devlin shrugged. “He taught me to channel my anger into winning. That and my natural knack for riding did the trick.”

She smiled gently. “I know it took a lot more work than that.”

“But it isn’t work to do something you love.”

“No, you’re right. It isn’t.”