It took Alex two years to write the four books in her new contract. When the first book was published it was the biggest seller she’d ever had. She turned forty on the day she sent in her last book. It seemed a suitable way to celebrate her birthday. She dedicated the first one to Miles, the second to Bert, and the third to Desi, and she hadn’t decided who to dedicate the last one to. She had already dedicated books to her father and the nuns over the years. But the last one in the contract wouldn’t be out for eighteen months, so she had time to decide. And she already had an idea for another book, and possibly for another one after that. The ideas were flowing again, just as Bert had promised. She realized more than ever now how wise he had been. He had been gone for two years, and Miles for seven, and she was writing again. It had been a peaceful two years while she worked on the new books, in the same single-minded way she always had before. The books were deeper and stronger, as though she had learned something while her gift was dormant. And Bert had been right about something else too so long ago. The books were “cooking” even when she didn’t know it and she thought the stove was off. The stove was never off, and there was always a book in her somewhere. That was the magic she hadn’t lost, even when she thought she had.
The day after her birthday, she took a morning ride right after dawn. She felt free and alive and hadn’t done that in years. She and Miles had always loved their rides together. It reminded her of the weekend they’d spent together so long ago, when he had brought her to the farm for the first time.
She was cantering back as the sun rose in the sky, when her horse stumbled and she slowed him to a walk, pulling him up in time. He was one of the few Thoroughbreds she had kept when she sold the others. He was a good ride, and she liked going out in the hills with him, and was sorry she hadn’t done it in so long. She was walking back through the woods, giving him a rest, when she heard a horse coming toward them, and her mount shied sideways as a man came into view on a handsome stallion. The rider had dark hair like her own, and looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him. It was rare for anyone to come on their property, and she wondered who he was.
“Good morning!” he called out to her from the distance, so she would know he wasn’t a poacher or a trespasser. He slowed his horse to a walk and came up beside her. “I’m sorry if I startled you.” Alex’s horse had calmed down again, and the rider looked slightly embarrassed. “I cut across your pasture. I do that sometimes, but I’ve never run into anyone.” She noticed that he had a southern drawl.
“I don’t ride very often anymore. I’d forgotten how nice it is this time of day.” She smiled at him. And then she realized who he was. An American had bought the farm next to theirs two years before, she’d never met him.
“I hear you had some fabulous horses here a few years ago.” He reined the stallion in and rode along next to her. His was an Arabian.
“We did have some nice ones. They were my husband’s. I sold them seven years ago. It’s been a while. He bred them.”
“So I’ve been told.” And then he decided to come clean with her. “I’ve been wanting to buy your south pasture since I bought my farm, but they tell me you’re not interested in selling any of your land.” Their horses were dancing as they stood and talked.
“That’s true,” she said.
“I’m Jerry Jackson. We’re neighbors but we’ve never met. I have a stud farm in Kentucky and spend a lot of time there.” She had heard that he had some of the best racehorses in the States, and had brought a number of them to England. One of his horses had won the Kentucky Derby the year before.
“Alex McCarthy,” she introduced herself.
“You’re American,” he said with some surprise. No one had told him that.
“I’ve lived here most of the time for fourteen years, and before that in London for a couple of years.” He thought she didn’t look old enough to have lived anywhere for fourteen years as an adult. He guessed she was much younger than she was. She correctly estimated that he was in his late forties.
“This is beautiful country. I’d like to spend more time here. I’ve got business in London and try to get down here whenever I can,” he said with an easy smile.
“My daughter and I actually moved here full-time from London seven years ago when my husband died. It’s a good life.” He nodded.
“How old is your daughter?” He was curious about her.
“Seven. She was five days old when her father died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He apologized for bringing up a painful subject, and they rode on the path in silence for a few minutes. “I’d love to show you my stables sometime, if you’re interested. It’s a nice operation, and I’ve got some very fine horses here, since you know something about it.”
“I don’t know as much as my husband did.” She turned to look at him. “You have racehorses, don’t you?”
“I do, and a few I’m very proud of,” he said as they reached a fork in the trail. She had to go to the right to get back to her barn. “Please come over sometime.”
“Thank you,” she said, and cantered off toward home.
She had breakfast with Desi after that and took her out to play in the garden, and she gave her a riding lesson that afternoon in the ring they still had in the barn. She was teaching her to jump, because Alex knew it would have pleased her father. He had taught Alex and turned her into a better rider, and she enjoyed instructing her daughter.
They had just come into the house after Desi’s lesson when Jerry Jackson called her. Alex was surprised to hear from him.
“I thought I’d give you a call and see if you’d like to see the stables today.”
Maude was there to bathe Desi and give her her dinner, and Alex was curious about Jerry’s horses and his interest in her pasture. “I’d like that,” she said. She had nothing else to do, and was taking a few days’ break from her writing. She did that now, and wrote intensely once she got started, just as she always had.
“Come on over in ten minutes.”
She took the road outside her property to the next farm, and turned into his driveway. It was a long drive to a stone house that was smaller than hers, but the grounds were impeccable, and the stables beautifully maintained, and she saw two grooms walking two spectacular horses.
Her host was waiting for her in the courtyard and escorted her into the stables, where she saw how meticulously they were set up. The horses in the stalls were among the best looking she’d seen, even better than those Miles had.