“Nice to meet you.” I wasn’t prepared for the man’s mammoth hand to put the death grip on mine in a brief shake. “This group is maxed out for the session, but you’re welcome to go say hello to the horses and mingle. I can fit you in during the afternoon if you’d like.”
“I got my hot yoga class then, but I can be here tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning is spinach harvest day.” We all turned at the arrival of Miller, who looked none too pleased. “And, Garrett, you’re mentoring the new gal on tending to the cucumbers and squash.”
“I think I can squeeze in both. I’m gifted like that.” And with that, Garrett wandered away with Ernie, chatting in the old man’s ear about his childhood pony.
Miller stared me down, a man used to intimidating with a single look. “What are you doing?”
“My job.” Gone was the man who with mere words had breathed life into my anemic dreams of love last night. While avoiding sleep, I’d entertained a few fanciful moments imagining a life with a man who cherished me in the way Miller had described.
“Garrett works the gardens,” he said.
“This isn’t the state championship, Coach. I’m not stealing your players.” I pointed to the odd-looking glasses on top of Miller’s head. “What are those?”
His hand absently touched his mussed hair. “Glasses with surgical loupe magnifiers. I believe we were talking about your interference with Garrett.”
I hadn’t seen much of the innovative side of Miller in years, and it was unexpectedly adorable. “Why are you wearing them?”
Miller shook his head with a deep frown. “I’m working on a project with miniscule parts. Can you stay on topic, please? Garrett just walked away from a session with his therapist.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but how could I have known that? He joined us of his own volition. Did you see the way his face lit up when he saw the horses?”
Miller’s jaw flexed. “Plants are his thing.”
“Maybe he can have two things?”
“Don’t interfere in our program, Hattie.”
“You know, in equine-assisted therapy, we let things happen naturally. If a person isn’t drawn to a horse, she doesn’t work with that horse. If she needs more time to hang back and watch, then that’s what she does. If she gravitates toward a horse and the horse approves, then they work together. I don’t make the rules.”
“And that’s fine for your therapy program.” Miller pointed south. “But you stay over here, and we’ll stay over there. The two do not need to intermingle. Garrett’s made some progress in the last few months in the gardens, and his therapist doesn’t want to lose that momentum.”
A heat that had nothing to do with the August humidity crawled up my neck. “I assure you I would never interfere with the work of another therapist, but Garrett’s been here for two years and is justnowmaking some small gains?”
“Do I need to tell you these things can take time?” Miller had the nerve to ask.
“Oh, really? A trauma program takes time?”Hello, irony.“Like maybe more than six months, Miller?”
“Garrett is a friend, and he’s doing important work here.”
“But what if he needs something else?” I directed my gaze to where Garrett now stood next to the fence, stroking the nose of a mare. “What’s wrong with him joining us as well?”
“His mental health is too important to dilute it with other modalities right now. You have your client list, and the farm has its own. Garrett can’t afford one more regression. Every veteran who steps a foot on this farm is my responsibility. I haven’t lost one yet, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“Miller, I—”
But he wasn’t listening. His boots kicked up dust as he stormed away, done with the conversation.
“Let him go.” Ernie reached for my arm as I took two steps in Miller’s direction.
“What was that?” I asked him. “It’s not like I invited Miller’s friend to leave his work in the garden.”
“It’s not just the veterans on this farm who are hurting.” Ernie’s gaze meandered toward Miller. “Everyone here has a story.”
“I know Miller lost a brother-in-law, and he’s dealing with a lot with his nieces, but that reaction seemed a bit extreme.”
“He carries around a lot of guilt. Most of us here do.”
