Two days later, the three of us are on a beach in Del Mar. Chris and I are watching Sabin on Mia. This is one of the few beaches in the San Diego area where riding horses is allowed. The call I made to Pearce went better than I could have hoped, and it was his idea to bring us all here.
Sabin is at the upper edge of the shore, right now as far from the water as he can be. He looks moderately anxious, but I can see him trying to ride with confidence.
Pearce is standing with Chris and me. He crosses his arms and watches, much more at ease than Chris and I are right now. I feel as though a million things hinge on this happening, and I wasn’t convinced it was a smart idea when Pearce had suggested it. However, it seemed to be a risk worth taking.
“He’s got one chance to get her into the water,” he explains. “If he’s not careful, if he pushes too much or too fast, he’ll miss the window, and she might never get over her fear.”
“Can he do it?” I ask.
“Sure.” Pearce squints and studies Sabin for a minute. “If anyone can, it’s him. And if it doesn’t work out, that’ll be all right, too.”
Sabin and Mia walk slowly and get closer to us.
“Start inching her down. If she gets nervous, let her back off a little, but keep encouraging her. She’s got fear, sure, but she’s smart, and if she can figure out how to get out of this, she will. It’s your job to be the kind but firm parent, Sabin. Let her see it will all be okay,” Pearce instructs.
Sabin nods and then glances at Chris and me.
“You look great, Sabin,” Chris says. “Right at home.”
Mia turns a bit and moves a few feet closer to the water, and Sabin praises her and strokes her mane. “That’s my good girl. Just water. It’s nothing to be afraid of. And I’m right here. You’re doing really good.”
Pearce lifts up and down on his toes a few times. I think he’s more anxious about Sabin finding this success than he’s letting on.
He smiles though and then takes a seat in the sand. “Sit down. This might take a while.”
Chris and I get comfortable, and I take in the view. The sight of Sabin working with Mia, encouraging her to overcome her fears, is beautiful. The uncharacteristic clouds above lend a dark filtered light, but that just allows Sabin to shine more.
Chris and I stay quiet while Pearce periodically calls out encouragement or instruction. Mia moves from side to side, crossing her legs over one another, as she tries to move back, almost dancing in place, but with every minute that passes, Sabin gets her a bit closer to the lapping shore.
When she stops walking for a second, Pearce puts a hand to his mouth. “Keep talking to her. Let her know you’re relaxed. I can see you tensing up, so knock that off. You’ve got this, Sabin. You’ve got this. Show her how it’s done.”
From my spot on the beach, I can see Sabin take a big breath and regroup. Although I can’t make out what he’s saying now, his gravelly voice carries up to me, and his tone and pace are calm, soothing. Mia responds well, and I grab Chris’s hand when she turns to face the water. Without being able to hear, I know what Sabin is saying. I just know it.
“Reach for me. I won’t let you drown. I’m right here.”
“Now’s the time,” Pearce says as he leans back on his arms. “Let her face her fear. Stay with her, and make her understand she’s in good hands. Not too fast. Talk her through it. Dig deep, Sabin, and pass on that confident energy. Right from your core. Give that to her.”
Sabin is honed in on Mia now, no longer turning back to check in with Pearce, and he leans over, talking right into her ear while stroking her coat. She takes a few steps, pauses for a moment, and then takes a few more.
“Just about there,” Chris whispers.
I’m pretty sure that I stop breathing when Mia’s front hooves are a foot from the water. She looks off to the side, and then she faces the ocean again. She steps forward and wets her feet.
“Hot damn!” Pearce says happily.
Sabin throws a fist in the air, but then he immediately brings it back down and regains his composure as he guides her to walk parallel to the shore until they’re just casually strolling through a few inches of water.
This time, I am watching a boy on the beach save himself, and it’s a glorious feeling.
“Look at him.” Pearce is nodding with approval. “He’s showing her it’s just like any other walk now. Nothing to get worked up about.” He smiles broadly. “Smart, smart boy.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Sabin and Mia walk back and forth along the shore. Their motion is fluid, and the aura they both give off is one of pure connection and joy. Sabin’s determination and skill today assure me that he is ready to work on himself, that he has the capability to power through the dark and find light.
“This is a sight for sore eyes,” Chris says.
“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.
It’s here where I nearly lost my fight with depression and self-sabotage, and it’s here where I pulled myself from destruction with the help of the Shepherd siblings. It’s also where I fell in love, in more ways than one.
We have a long day ahead of us with the twins’ graduation in a matter of hours, and it seems a miracle that I managed to get Sabin out here with me. He somehow looks awake though, and we’re going to run one of my old routes.
“Only three miles, right?” Sabin asks nervously as he bends to stretch his hamstrings. “I haven’t run in over a year—or done much of anything, for that matter.”
“I disagree. You’ve done a lot in a year.”
He laughs. “I mean, exercise. My shrink is going to be impressed.”
“So, you’ll start now, and you are going to be impressed. I know this route. I know how to pace you and get you through it.”
He blows out a long breath. “Okay.”
“Have you asked out Mollie yet?”
“Are you trying to distract me by changing the subject from this dreadful running thing we’re about to do?”
“Maybe. So, have you?”
He grins. “Maybe. And maybe she said yes.”
“Of course she did. She’s been nuts about you for months.”
He shakes his head. “Or she’s just nuts.” But he looks happy.
“It’s going to be a good year for you—and for you and me,” I say. “I believe that.”
“It can’t be worse than this past year. That’s for sure. I wish things hadn’t gotten so messy between us, but I’m glad we made it through.”
I face him and set my hands on his shoulders. “We made it through beautifully. Look how strong we are now.”
“We’re solid. I know that now.” He gives me a hint of a smile. “You know, there is one thing that’s been bothering me.”
“What’s that?”
He looks aside for a moment and then clears his throat. He speaks slowly, “We’ve had two really bad kisses, you and me. Thanksgiving and then on the beach.”
I smile back. “And we can’t go out like that.”
“We’re better than that,” he says.
“We need one good one.”
“We need one good one,” he agrees.
I step in. “I am madly and platonically in love with you, Sabin Shepherd.”
“And I am madly and platonically in love with you, Blythe McGuire.” His expression is tender and caring. “I do adore you. This friendship…it gives me strength.”
I put a hand on his face and look into his eyes. “This kiss will stay between us. It’s just ours.” I lift up and press my mouth against his.
It’s a soft kiss but one with feeling and gratitude, and it’s one that speaks to the reciprocity of our friendship. We kiss long enough to undo our other kisses and long enough to make this one hold us forever. His lips move over mine, gently and sweetly, and I feel his hand move to my lower back as he dips me backward.
Sabin lifts from me now and smiles. “That was much better.” For the last time, he kisses me again, just for a few seconds. “Now, I’ve kissed a girl I feel something for. And it was beautiful.”
“It was beautiful. I love you, Sabe.” When he rights me to a stand, I face us in the direction of our run. “Definitely much better.”
“Did you notice there was no tongue?” he asks proudly.
I laugh. “I did. Congratulations to us. You ready to do this?”
“Chris is still going to meet us for the last mile, right?”
“He’ll be there.”
He looks to me and sighs. “Run through the pain, huh?”
“Yes. Run through the pain. It works.”
“It’d better.” He takes his earbuds that are hooked to his music player and hands them to me. “We have the playlist Chris made for us, but first…I wrote another song for you. For us. Maybe for me. I don’t know. It’s a rough recording, but…”
“It’s a really good place to start.” I put in the earbuds, and then I clamp my hand into his while his music begins to play. “Here we go.”
“I’m ready, love.”
The terrain under my feet is all too familiar, and it brings back the same healing energy I used to get when I was a senior at Matthews. I hope that I can pass this on to Sabin.
We run, taking it slowly and steadily, and I listen to his words about his past, about reclaiming what he’s lost, and about how he’s going to fight like all hell for a future.
I SUPPOSE I SHOULD LET YOU GO.
FEAR IS ALL I’VE EVER KNOWN,
A FEVER OF A HIDDEN MAN.
CAN YOU TELL I’M A HURTING MAN?
CAN’T YOU SEE I WANNA BE YOUR MAN?
THIS IS ALL UNFAIR.
OH, THIS IS MY CALL.
I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW
BECAUSE YOU’VE SEEN MY SOUL.
I WAS A LONELY ONE,
IN THE SHADOWS.
SO, I PUT IT ALL IN THIS SONG.
SO, YOU’LL KNOW ONCE AND FOR ALL,
I WAS NEVER HOME
BEFORE YOU.
COURAGE, I NEED IT,
AND GUILT, I FEEL IT,
WITH MY HANDS
AND HEART.
I’M NOT A COWARD, BUT I DID NOT FIGHT.
BEEN IN THE SHADOWS ALL MY GODDAMN LIFE.
TIME TO HEAR MY CALL.
DO YOU REALLY KNOW ME?
NOW, IT’S TIME FOR ME TO SHED SOME LIGHT.
OUT OF THE SHADOWS, I’LL FIGHT THIS FIGHT.
I CAN NO LONGER LIVE A LIE.
HOW COULD I FIGHT FOR YOU?
MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD IS TIED UP, TOO.
BUT I’LL KEEP HOLDING ON.
IT’S TOO FAMILIAR.
SO, TAKE FROM ME WHAT YOU WILL.
YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I LEAN ON,
AND I’M LEANING STILL.
THOUGH I’D NEVER CALL ME BRAVE,
I’LL NEVER RUN AWAY FROM YOU, NO.
I’VE BEEN LATE TO THE FIGHT,
BUT, DARLING, NOT TONIGHT.
I’LL COME RUNNING, RUNNING FOR YOU.
COURAGE, I NEED IT.
AND GUILT, I FEEL IT
WITH MY HANDS
AND HEART.
THIS WORLD SEEMS TO OFFER ME NOTHING.
SUPPOSE I SHOULD FADE AWAY,
BUT YOU KNOW I’M NOT RUNNING, RUNNING AWAY.
CAN YOU HEAR MY CALL? IT’S SO LOUD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I’M NOT PROUD.
CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART? IT’S SO COLD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I WON’T FOLD.
CAN YOU HEAR MY CALL? IT’S SO LOUD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I’M NOT PROUD.
CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART? IT’S SO COLD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I WON’T FOLD.
CAN YOU HEAR MY CALL? IT’S SO LOUD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I’M NOT PROUD.
CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART? IT’S SO COLD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I WON’T FOLD.
CAN YOU HEAR MY CALL? IT’S SO LOUD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I’M NOT PROUD.
CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART? IT’S SO COLD.
CALL ME A COWARD IF YOU LIKE. I WON’T FOLD.
So, together, we run through the pain, as we have before and as we might need to do again and again.
We will run as many days as we need to because we have strength and love and a friendship that will never drown.
As always, I am deeply grateful to the people who have helped me get through writing a book.
Michele Scott shared her vast equine expertise and talked me through so much. Autumn Hull gave professional support, but more importantly, she gave me her friendship and love. Katie Pruitt Miller trudged her way through a very rough and unedited version of Restless Waters, and she gave beautiful feedback and advice.
And there is, as always, Andrew Kaufman, who is unfailingly there for me, no matter what else is going on. As usual, he did everything. He listened, cheered, edited scenes, strategized, and remained a true friend, even when I got to the stressed-out, manic stage of writing and should have irritated him beyond reason. But that’s Andrew—patient, wonderful, and the best friend a girl could ever ask for.