Page 26 of Wild Horses
Tyler stood on the recreation room verandah overlooking the garden.
Spinebills dipped and splashed in a birdbath set among scarlet callistemons.
He’d finished serving breakfast and prepping for lunch and dinner, which left him at a loose end.
It never used to be like this. In between teaching students the culinary cabaret show dishes, helping with rehearsals, running the Currawong Creek kitchen and stealing time to spend with Christy, he used to complain there weren’t enough hours in the day.
Now the cabaret show was more than a fortnight behind them, it had left a palpable void in its wake. And stealing time with Christy was also a thing of the past. For some inexplicable reason she was avoiding him. Why?
Tyler had tried several times to buttonhole her and extract an explanation – all to no avail.
She and Astrid were spending much of their spare time organising and recruiting members for their local drama group, but Tyler hadn’t been asked along.
He’d sounded out Astrid to find out what she knew about Christy’s change of heart.
‘I can’t divulge private confidences,’ was all she said, which meant she knew stuff but wouldn’t say. If only he could read minds.
Tyler checked his watch – eleven o’clock, morning recess.
He decided to visit Leo and knew just where to find him.
The pleasant scent of hay and horses filled Tyler’s nostrils as he approached the stables.
He’d spent many hours here with Leo, rebuilding a relationship strained by years of mutual misunderstanding.
Today, he hoped to bridge another gap, to understand why Leo had felt the need to escape into the night after last month’s cabaret show.
True to form, Tyler found Leo brushing Lofty’s glossy bay coat with slow, methodical strokes.
That temperamental ex-racehorse was the only thing lately that brought a light to his son’s eyes.
Thankfully, whatever was troubling Leo hadn’t interfered with the growing closeness between them.
Their broken bond was healing, turning into something rich and real.
This was a miracle he thanked his lucky stars for every single day.
Yet his desire to understand the root of Leo’s general melancholy still gnawed at him.
Tyler suspected Christy’s recent aloofness played a part.
Her distance, not only from him but also from Leo, troubled Tyler.
He would always be grateful to her for finding Leo when he absconded and bringing him home in time.
Arrest and detention would not only have undone all the incredible progress Leo had made; it would have made things ten times worse.
But Tyler also remembered her promise to support Leo, her commitment to being there for him.
Now her sudden retreat felt like a breach of trust.
Tyler’s mind often replayed the night of their kiss – a moment under the moonlight that he’d thought was the beginning of a new chapter.
He’d felt something electric: a connection and a promise.
Christy had felt it too, he knew, so her recent stand-offishness left him confused and hurt, her withdrawal like a bitter blast on a sunny day.
Tyler understood the feeling of loss all too well; it was an old friend.
He sighed and shrugged the tension from his shoulders, tried to focus on the future.
But confusing memories kept crowding in – like Leo’s puzzling disappearance after the show.
The night had been a triumph, their hard work culminating in applause and cheers, yet Leo had vanished, casting a shadow over their success.
He’d come back physically, but there’d been a subtle but undeniable shift.
Part of him seemed distant, unreachable to everyone except the horses.
It left so many questions. What had driven Leo to flee and why wouldn’t he say?
Tyler picked up a curry comb and moved to join his son in grooming Lofty. The big bay pinned back his ears and cow-kicked, showing his displeasure at the intrusion.
‘Cut it out,’ scolded Leo. ‘That’s my dad.
’ Lofty’s ears snapped forwards at the sound of Leo’s voice.
Tyler cautiously resumed his brushing, and this time Lofty didn’t argue.
Father and son made small talk for a few minutes, chatting about last night’s pumpkin pie and how Stacey wouldn’t try it, about Leo’s forthcoming maths test, and even about the weather.
‘I was wondering,’ Tyler began, keeping his voice casual, hoping to ease into the conversation. Leo didn’t look up, but his hand paused momentarily before continuing its motion. ‘Can we talk about that night after the show? When you left?’
Leo’s brush strokes slowed, but he kept his focus on Lofty, avoiding his father’s eyes. ‘Not much to say,’ he muttered, almost too softly to hear.
Tyler put down the curry comb, his voice more assertive now, but still quiet. ‘There must be something, son. What made you run like that?’ His voice was firm yet open, a father’s plea for understanding.
Leo sighed, a deep, depleted sound that carried more sadness than his young frame should have held. Setting his brush aside, he turned to face Tyler, his expression unreadable. ‘I needed to get away, that’s all.’ But Tyler could see the strain behind his casual dismissal.
Leo swapped his body brush for a comb and began brushing Lofty’s tail.
Tyler pressed his lips together in a mix of frustration and concern.
‘Son, you can talk to me. If there’s something wrong, perhaps we can sort it out together.
’ He reached out, his attempt to bridge the physical space between them reflecting his desire to close the emotional distance.
Leo stepped back, his gaze dropping to the ground. ‘Thanks, Dad. It’s just ...’ He trailed off.
Tyler drew a slow breath, recognising the need for patience. He stepped back too, giving Leo the space he seemed to need. ‘That’s okay. But remember, I’m here. If ever you want to talk – I’m here.’
‘Look, I need to get back to class,’ said Leo, looking uncomfortable. ‘Can you put Lofty back in the paddock for me?’
The conversation ended there. Tyler watched Leo walk away, frustrated and a bit hurt. Lofty was also watching Leo’s retreating figure. He danced back and forth on the end of his leading rein, pawing the ground with nostrils flared and eyes wild.
‘Easy, boy.’ Tyler untied him and Lofty exploded, rearing back and almost wrenching the rope from his hand.
‘Settle down,’ he soothed, as the fractious gelding ran rings around him.
The gate was only twenty metres away, but at this rate it would take them half an hour to reach it.
How on earth did Leo manage Lofty so well?
Once the big bay was back in his paddock, Tyler’s thoughts wandered to Christy.
Her smiles were fewer, her visits less frequent, and her conversation clipped.
He missed her more than he wanted to admit.
As he left the stables, Tyler’s gaze lingered on the path leading back to the school, half-hoping to see Christy’s familiar figure walking towards him.
The path remained empty, and Tyler felt a sharp pang of disappointment.
He couldn’t go on like this. When classes were finished, he’d find Christy and get some answers.
Tyler paused at the door of the art room, the scent of paint and turpentine mingling with the fragrance of jasmine flowers lined up in vases along the sills.
Inside, Christy was gathering materials and washing brushes, her movements slow, almost reflective.
Her students’ creativity was splashed across canvases and drying on racks.
Tyler’s gaze drifted across the room, landing on a painting that halted him in his tracks.
It was unmistakably Leo’s work. The canvas was a chaos of dark blues and greys, swirling around the central figure of a shadow stallion, its form blurred and ghostly.
Yet, there was something in the energy of the horse’s stance and the steadiness in its eyes that grounded it.
Tyler felt a tightness in his chest. The painting perfectly symbolised both the turmoil and the growing strength he sensed in his son.
Tyler stepped into the room, his boots echoing slightly on the wooden floor. Christy looked up, her expression guarded, a charming smudge of blue paint on her cheek. She put her brushes down, her posture stiffening as she turned to face him. ‘Tyler, what are you doing here?’
Not the welcome Tyler was hoping for. ‘Leo’s painting,’ he said, nodding towards the canvas. He watched her face, searching for a sign of the connection they once shared. ‘It’s powerful.’
Christy followed his gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line. ‘Your son is talented,’ she said, keeping her voice neutral.
Tyler took a breath, steeling himself. It was time to face whatever this was head-on. ‘Why have you pulled back from him?’
She turned away, adjusting a canvas without really looking at it. ‘Tyler, it’s complicated, and I have a lot on my plate right now. I don’t have time for this.’
He stepped closer. ‘You had twice as much on your plate a month ago before the cabaret show. It’s not just about being busy. Something’s changed.’
Christy’s expression softened momentarily, a crack in her cool veneer. Then the mask returned.
‘And what about us?’ he asked. ‘That night, after the show, when we—’
‘Tyler, you’re reading too much into that. It was just a crazy, adrenaline-fuelled moment.’
‘Crazy?’ he repeated, his heart sinking like a stone in still water.
‘So, the kiss meant nothing to you?’ Tyler felt the ground shift beneath him.
The first woman he’d been drawn to since his wife died eleven years ago had rejected him.
The connection with Christy had felt real, but now it seemed he’d been chasing a mirage.
He hadn’t realised how much he’d been holding on to the idea of her until it was ripped away.
‘Sorry, I have to go.’ Christy picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. ‘Astrid and I are meeting some prospective members for our theatre group tonight and we want to do up the hall a bit.’
Just then Maggie rushed in, looking flushed. ‘Tyler, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. My sister is visiting tomorrow and it’s her birthday. Do you reckon you could help me bake a cake tonight?’
‘Come on.’ He placed a guiding hand in the small of Maggie’s back. ‘Looks like it’s back to the kitchen for me.’
The flash of jealousy in Christy’s eyes made no sense. Hadn’t she made it clear that she didn’t want him?