I Must Confess

CRISS CROSS AND SAVING SANITY
I Must Confess

It had been a long time since Stanley Newton had seen Saving Sanity, and even longer since he had seen Jaimie Sandler. The girl had trained under him throughout the entirety of their time at Blue Cross, and he had come to enjoy her presence fairly quickly. She was a funny girl, with a bizarre but affective sense of humor, and a great big heart which she felt inclined to share. Over time, he had come to see her more like a daughter than a friend, and he had been more or less devastated when the stable had shut down and he had promptly lost contact with the majority of the people at Blue Cross that he come to know and love.

Jaimie had grown older in the time since Stanley had last seen her, not really in the physical sense, but in the physiological one. Her eyes were a little darker, her shoulders a bit more slouched, her head looking down instead of up. “Weighted,” Alexander Descartes had used the word to describe her when Stanley had asked about her wellbeing that morning, “But still the same Jaimie,” Stanley had wondered on how true Descartes’ words had been as he had approached the seemingly foreign girl. She had cut her hair to her shoulders, and where she had at one point reveled in wearing ridiculously bright florescent riding gear, she now bore a simple dark grey light jacket and black riding pants, her boots no longer yellow but the same color as her pants.

Yet as Stanley had found his way to the track and Jaimie had turned from observing Criss Cross, he had found that things hadn’t changed so much after all. Her eyes had found him quickly, and he had watched with a warming heart as her mouth had split into a grin, as her eyes had lightened considerably. “Stan!” She had cried out happily, and had rushed away from Criss Cross in his direction, leaving the white filly with a stable hand. She had tackled him into a hug before he had known what to do with himself, and her embrace had been warm and gentle and all that he had remembered it to be. He had hugged her back with a vigor, finding that he had missed her more than he had realized. She had released him after a minute, stepping back fluidly and glancing up at him with warm brown eyes—the ones he had remembered her to own—and had given him a softer yet in no way less enthusiastic smile. “Isn’t this great?” Her voice had been melodious, and the short laugh that had followed her words had been light and tinkling, like the gentle ring of a bell, “It’s like nothing has changed,” She had said, but just as quickly as she had spoken the phrase, she had revised it, “Well, almost.”

He had known her long enough to recognize what she referred too. Blue Cross had become, for lack of a better word, empty. Where it had once proudly housed around twenty active racing equines, ten yearlings and around twenty stud and brood mares, it had nearly diminished in size. No longer were horses abound, instead of finding one at every turn, they had to be actively searched for. The Estate was a shadow of it’s former self, and it was entirely clear. Of course, Rosaline had spoken to him for hours upon hours on her plans to rebuild and regroup and reinvigorate, but it still hadn’t been the same. In Jaime’s case, he knew who she missed most. The girl had formed a fierce attachment to Paradise Island, who had for a time graced Blue Cross with her prestige and regality. The horse had been lost in the jostle of the Estate shutting down, and now resided at Riverview Acres. Since her induction to the Hall Of Fame, she had foaled a gorgeous colt by the name of Tortuga. It had served as more or a wound than a time of excitement for Jaimie, as he knew firsthand she had always dreamed of being able to watch the glorious mare’s foal grow here at the Estate, and that when the time came, she would be elected to jockey the mare’s legacy. It was safe to say that things hadn’t worked out the way anyone had planned.

“You look good, Jaimie,” He had told her, and had matched her smile with one of his own, “You been riding much?” He had hoped for a number of tales from the girl explaining how wonderful she had found it to travel about the country and ride wherever she was called, but he received nothing of the sort. “I’ve taken a couple here and there, but nothing permanent. I was always waiting and ready to come back home, you know?” She had told him, and he had felt something squeeze within his chest. “We’re all home now,” He had told her, and she had nodded in response before leading the way over to where Descartes had stood with Saving Sanity and Criss Cross, the horses fooling around with each other as they waited. They had each climbed aboard without further ado, and Stanley had been surprised at how ready and calm Sanity had been as she had stood patiently, firm and strong and waiting, for him to adjust his reins and find his seat. “Ready to get beat?” Jaimie had called out to him from where she had sat on Criss Cross, her hand running through the fillies mane with calm impatience. In response, Stanley simply nudged Sanity towards the track, and Jaimie fell into step beside him immediately.

“Now remember what I said!” Descartes called from behind them, “Keep it nice and neat and short, no need to blow ‘em out their first time back around,” He had said from behind them. Again, Jaimie’s soft laugh had sounded, and after a brief moment of hesitation Stanley had joined in with her. After that, there had been no talking, only swift and unending speed as he had directed Sanity to go and she had taken off like a shot, Cross erupting into speed behind them and hurrying to take position as the front runner as Sanity had settled into a comfortable cruise at her side.

It had been windy to start with, and the howling sounds of air rushing past his ear only increased in volume as Sanity pushed Cross forwards at a faster and faster pace, daring the white filly to push harder and harder if she was to keep her position. Criss Cross gave in to the challenge under the careful monitoring of Jaimie, and Stanley watched with silent admiration as her strides increased and her pace quickened, until the filly was jetting away from them once more. He urged Sanity to follow, and the palomino filly immediately bolted in her pursuit. They closed the gap quickly as Sanity readjusted to the new pace, her body working in rhythm, much like a machine as she sidled up alongside Cross, again asking the filly to give more.

They soared down the backstretch in such a manner, with Sanity egging Cross on and Cross stubbornly refusing to give in to her. It quickly turned itself into a speed dual, with neither horse wishing to give in, and both battling to be first. It allowed hope to blossom within Stanley’s heart, that maybe, just maybe, these horses could still be something, even after being away from the track for as long as they had been.

Together, they came crashing over the finish line in a whirl of manes and tails, and the both of them together looked naturally to the far off silhouette of Descartes, who gave them both a thumbs up in approval. “I must confess, Miss Sandler,” Stanley had said appreciatively as they had cooled down the horses, his eyes watching Jaimie as she relaxed in the saddle, her left arm swinging freely with the motions of the horse, “You’ve still got it,”