Read Online Leap of Faith by Fiona McCallum - Free Book Online

the hospital. It was so nice to smell her gardenia room scent, rather than the chemical clean scent of the hospital room.
    Try to sleep on your back , she silently told herself. It did feel more comfortable than either side had felt, but she’d never fallen asleep on her back before, even after too much wine. She realised she still had her eyes open and closed them.
    The sound of the dogs and Steve breathing and the far off swoosh of trees suddenly all sounded much too loud. She tried to put everything out of her mind by starting to count back from three hundred in lots of three. It was what Oprah’s sleep guru recommended; she remembered reading it in one of the magazines she’d flicked through ages ago at the hairdresser. It took quite a bit of concentration – that, apparently, was the point: it stilled the busy brain from churning through the distractions and worries of life. Jessica wondered if it would work. She’d never really been troubled by poor sleep – just the odd night here and there tossing and turning before competitions.
    As she counted down, got lost, found her spot again, and carried on, she could feel herself relaxing and gradually becoming sleepy. Every time she thought about the following day and the next six weeks, and how she could occupy herself, she’d stop and go back to the counting. What she needed was a good night’s sleep, things would be better in the morning. It was something her dear mother used to say often, before she lost her fight with leukaemia. Theresa Collins had managed to stay positive to the end and, while that had been better than seeing her mope about and sitting in floods of tears, it meant that when the end actually came, Jessica had been stunned.
    She hadn’t believed for a second that her mum would actually die, despite hearing the doctors’ increasingly poor prognoses, and watching her mother’s gradual decline. She was utterly convinced that those in the know had it all wrong and her mum would prove it.
    Afterwards, Jessica spent months in a shocked daze. Not even writing the eulogy and giving it, or watching the expensive polished box being lowered into the ground made her fully accept her mother wasn’t going to be there to plait up her horses for the next event. That had always been Theresa’s part in what was a true family activity. She’d never ridden, but was there with the hose and shampoo, comb and scissors, needle and thread, the hoof black. The reputation Jessica had gained for always turning out her horses impeccably had been solely down to her mum. She did okay herself, but there was a distinct difference in the quality of her horses’ presentation during Theresa Collins’ reign and after her death.
    It was getting ready for the first event after her mother’s death that had really brought her loss home to Jessica. She wasn’t sure why, when she’d been doing the horses herself for the last twelve months because Theresa hadn’t had the energy and was more often in hospital than not. But that evening, about two weeks after her mother’s funeral, Jessica had stood on the bucket with Prince’s mane divided ready to plait and, instead of continuing, laid her head on his neck and sobbed for ages. She’d briefly considered scratching from the event, but the thought of disappointing her father made her carry on as if on autopilot. Afterwards, the whole day was a blur.
    Jessica felt a wave of loneliness engulf her. It was so strong that it took her breath away and caused her to gulp a couple of times. Tears filled her eyes. Oh, she missed her parents.
    God, she needed to pull herself together – she was just overtired and emotional. They were gone, end of story. Blubbering about it wouldn’t bring them back. Her father would be the first one to say that – in fact had, on more than one occasion since losing his wife.
    She forced her mind back to her counting, feeling