Spirit Horses

by Alan S Evans

  “Easy girl, those birds scared me too.” As he calmed her down, he was pleased to see how quickly she began to relax and walk on as if nothing happened. During the ride back home, he patted her neck often and told her how good she was doing.

  As the two made their way down the last hill into the big grassy field next to the barn, Shane looked up to see Terry waving frantically at him. This also caught the filly’s attention. “You’re okay,” he told the worried horse. “I don’t know why he’s acting crazy like that.” Shane had to keep rubbing her neck to try and ease her bother. He was really starting to get upset with Terry’s behavior. “He knows better than to carry on like that when I’m on a green horse,” he said quietly to the filly.

  As he rode in closer he realized that what he first thought was excitement with Terry’s body language and expressions now looked more like sheer panic. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and he was having trouble speaking.

  “Chill out, man,” Shane told him sternly, as he stepped out of the saddle. “Just calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

  Chapter 4

  “It’s Jen and the kids, boss. They’ve been in a car wreck! The sheriff was out here about twenty minutes ago, and said you need to get to the hospital right now!”

  “A wreck! When?” Shane’s forehead wrinkled as his heart began to pound with fear. “Is everybody all right? What exactly did the sheriff say?”

  “He didn’t really say much. All he would tell me was that the accident was a bad one.” Shane, now trying to control his panic, handed the horse over to Terry and ran to his truck.

  He drove like a mad man all the way to the hospital, praying that they were all okay. He crashed through the ER door and found Jen’s sister waiting for him in the lobby.

  It was a teacher’s work day. This meant school was out for the kids, so Jacob and Tina were with Jen for the morning. Jen’s sister, Abby, had met them to go shopping and was following the three in her own car to a restaurant for lunch. The accident happened right in front of her and she had followed the ambulance to the hospital.

  Abby was sitting on a couch sobbing hysterically, leaning over with her face in her hands. A young nurse was sitting next to her trying to console her. Abby looked up and saw Shane. She immediately jumped up, ran over, and threw her arms around him still crying

  uncontrollably. “The man that crashed into them ran a red light. It wasn’t Jen’s fault!” she bawled.

  Shane was really scared now, and pushed Abby away to arm’s length. He looked into her swollen red eyes and loudly asked, “How bad is it?”

  She tried hard to answer but had trouble catching her breath. She finally sputtered out the words that stabbed Shane like a knife in his gut. “Jen and Jacob are gone,” she said with tears streaming down her face, “Tina’s in intensive care.”

  “What!” Shane whispered. “No. No way. You’ve got to be mistaken. What do you mean, gone?”

  “I’m sorry,” Abby said as she fell down to her knees crying.

  Shane ran to the counter, and yelled at the lady working there. “I want to see my family. I want to see them, now!”

  The lady realized that Shane was on the verge of losing control. He was loudly demanding to see his wife and kids over and over while threatening to tear the waiting room apart if she didn’t comply. She wasn’t sure how to handle him, and was now in tears herself. She finally picked up the phone to call for help. Almost immediately, two very large male orderlies came rushing through the door. They calmly told Shane that a doctor was on the way to talk to him and asked him to follow them to a small room beside the waiting area. After a couple of minutes, which seemed like hours, a doctor came into the room and gave the orderlies the okay to leave. He took a deep breath and asked Shane to please sit. He really hated this part of his job.

  “Mr. Carson, I’m sorry to tell you this, but both your wife and son were killed on impact in the accident.”

  Shane stared at him in disbelief and confusion. “There has to be some kind of mistake, doc!” The doctor looked down at the floor and shook his head, “Your little girl has extensive head injuries, and she has a ruptured spleen. She’s in surgery right now having her spleen removed, and we are trying to assess the extent of her head injuries. I’m sorry sir, but she’s in pretty bad shape, and I can’t say what her chances of survival are. We’ll have to assess her condition through the night, and I’m hopeful her vital signs will improve.”

  The doctor could tell that this was all too much for Shane. “When you’re ready, the nurse will let you know where to go so you can see your wife and son. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said as he quietly stepped out of the room. The doctor nodded to the nurse on his way out, asking her to keep an eye on Shane and to call him if necessary.

  Shane barely made it over to a sink before getting sick. As he finished, he slowly reached for a paper towel to wipe his mouth. There he stayed for some time with his head down and eyes closed, struggling just to stand.

  Still in denial, he balled up his fist and clinched his jaw, then begging, prayed, “God, please let me wake up to find that this is all just some kind of terrible nightmare! This can’t be happening, dammit!”

  When he finally looked up at his reflection in the mirror, a strange numbness overwhelmed him. Keeping one hand on the wall for support, he eased his way over to a seat in the corner of the room. Crumbling down into the chair, he sat motionless, staring into space, soon drifting uncontrollably into a total shutdown of emotions. The next thing he remembered hearing was much later when a nurse came in. “Mr. Carson—sir—Tina is in recovery, you can go see her now.”

  He stiffly stood and followed the nurse down the hall. He walked into the room to see his little Tina lying in the bed with her head completely wrapped and tubes protruding from her mouth. His eyes drifted to a machine that was beeping and pumping. His baby girl was on life support. The room started spinning as the beeping sound became an intense ringing in his ears. He collapsed before he made it to her side. He awoke on the floor with a woman leaning over him.

  The seasoned ICU nurse, an older lady, had seen more than her share of tragedy, “Come on, Mr. Carson, I know this is terribly difficult,” she said softly, “but you need to try to pull yourself together for Tina’s sake. Okay?” As he struggled to focus on her face he finally came to his senses. He nodded and slowly stood with some assistance.

  He couldn’t believe how cold Tina’s small hand felt—how lifeless. He gently squeezed, trying desperately to make her squeeze back. “Tina, Tina, its Daddy. Wake up for me, baby. Okay?” It was then that his emotions finally came to a head, and the tears rained down his face like a blinding summer storm.

  ***

  The next few days slowly crept by and Shane never left her bedside. Tina was tough and held on longer than the doctors thought she would. But she never regained consciousness, and at 3:25 on the afternoon of the third day she passed away with Shane at her side, tightly holding her hand. He leaned over, his face wet with tears, gently kissed her on the forehead and whispered in her ear, “Tina, it’s okay, you can go now. Mommy and Jacob are waiting for you. I love you. Tell Mom and Jacob I love them, too.”

  Soon after his last words to Tina, he withdrew into another emotional shutdown. The doctor explained to a worried Abby that the mind was well known to protect a person from more than he can handle in times like these. This mental escape was Shane’s subconscious way of shielding himself from a pain he was too exhausted to endure.

  Hours later he was still at her side when he felt a gentle arm across his back. Then he heard some familiar voices. It was Helen and Abby. Terry and Beth Ann were also there standing quietly in the corner. No one knew what to say. They were all feeling the loss of little Tina, but their immediate concern was for Shane. It was Helen’s quavering voice that finally broke the silence. “Come on, Shane, we have to go. She’s gone, there’s nothing more you can do here. The doctor’s going to give you something to help.” He barely no
ticed the needle piercing through the flesh of his right shoulder or the burning of the sedative as it slowly entered his muscle. It was still some time before he stood and left the room with everyone huddled around.

  It took all the strength Shane had to make it through the triple funeral. If it hadn’t been for Jen’s mom, he probably couldn’t have done it. Helen was a strong woman. Shane had seen that by watching her through the death of her own husband years earlier. She and Abby had made all the burial arrangements, and their constant support was the only thing keeping Shane from going completely off the deep end. He felt so alone, sad, and angry all at the same time. What had he or they ever done to deserve this? He cursed at God, screamed at himself, and then turned to the bottle to deaden the pain.

  Helen made the decision to stay on for a while. She cooked and cleaned, and, in the midst of dealing with her own grief, she tried her best to console him.

  The next couple of weeks were the worst of Shane’s life. He was not eating much and he couldn’t sleep. He’d taken all of the meds that the doctors had prescribed, and when they were gone, he depended on whiskey to help him escape his hell.

  Helen was on the front porch when Terry walked up from the barn and sat next to her. It was 2:30 in the afternoon, and only eighteen days after the accident. “I wish there was more I could do for him,” he mumbled.

  “You’ve done plenty, Terry; the way you and Beth Ann have taken over running the farm proves what good friends you are.”

  “Well, it’s easy to see he’s in no shape to come back to work yet. You tell him not to worry about the business. All of his clients understand. I’ll keep their horses worked until he is ready to ride.”

  Helen took a deep breath. “I’m very worried about him, Terry. He hasn’t been out of the house in days.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I know what you mean. While you were at the grocery store yesterday, I came over to check on him. I pounded and pounded on the door before he finally opened it. It was only one o’clock, he stunk of whiskey and seemed really depressed. Don’t get me wrong, if I lost Beth Ann and the baby I’d probably be in the same condition. But the truth is I’m scared he’s close to a breaking point.”

  Helen closed her eyes, “He’s too proud to admit he needs help. I think we’d better keep a close eye on him.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I agree.”

  It was late on a Monday, and still only four weeks since the accident. A stormy dusk began closing in on the farm. Abby had come over earlier and was just heading out the door to go home. Shane walked her out to her car to tell her good-bye, when she noticed his speech was a little slurred from the three drinks he’d consumed since 4:00. Even so, both she and Helen were glad to see him out. Helen was standing at the door and waved as Abby drove away.

  “Hey, Helen,” Shane shouted, “looks like Terry is working late. I’m going to the barn to help him finish up so he can get home for dinner.”

  Helen was elated at this. “You go ahead, we’ll eat when you’re done.”

  The evening was warm. A low growl of thunder rumbled overhead as the slight smell of rain lingered in the air. Because of the impending weather, Helen didn’t question the long Aussie coat Shane put on before he left the house.

  An hour later, the meal Helen prepared was still sitting on the table getting cold. She picked up the phone and dialed Terry’s cell to see what the holdup was at the stable. Terry was on his way home when he answered, “No, ma’am, he didn’t make it to the barn. I left there ten minutes ago, and I never saw hide nor hair of him.”

  Helen got a sick, worried feeling in her stomach. “Terry, I think you better get back here!”

  “Oh shit! I’m on my way!”

  It was growing darker by the minute, and the rain was just beginning to fall when Terry slid his truck to a screeching halt in front of the house. Helen flew out of the door to meet him as he got out. “Come on,” he yelled. “I think I know where he is. There is a place I’ve seen him go to think things over. It’s through the woods about a hundred yards behind the house. There’s a big hill with an old oak on it. He told me just yesterday that he and the kids had planned to build a tree house there this summer.” Terry grabbed a flashlight from his truck and the two walked briskly through the dark, dampened forest toward the hill.

  Shane had been sitting there drinking out of a bottle for the hour he’d been missing. A bright flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder was quickly followed by a drenching downpour as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the nickel-plated revolver. He gritted his teeth and wiped the cold rain off his face with his sleeve. “I’m sorry about this everyone,” he said under his breath as he pointed the .38-caliber pistol to his right temple. His trembling wet thumb clumsily slipped off the hammer when he attempted to cock it, with every intention to end his misery. Just then, he felt a punishing hard thud on his back. The gun went flying out of his hand while he and someone else were now plummeting down the side of the storm soaked, grassy hill. He was too drunk to notice when Terry and Helen came up behind him through the woods. As soon as Terry realized what was going on, he charged in hard and they both ended up at the bottom of the muddy slope.

  As he knelt there huffing, Terry faced up to the fact that Shane was in much worse shape than anyone realized. It was then that Helen stomped down the hill and began to yell.

  “Damn it, Shane,” she cried, “enough is enough! You’re going to see the grief counselor the doctor told you about—and there will be no more drinking!”

  Helen and Terry looked across at each other, as their emotions came to a head causing quiet tears to mix with the rain on their wet faces. With their hearts still pounding and their hands still shaking, they sat beside Shane to catch their breath. They all stayed there in the storm for a while, not speaking. Suddenly Shane stood up, and with his head bowed, sluggishly walked toward the house in silence. There he found some relief by passing out for the rest of the night on the living room couch.

  The next day Terry and Helen came down hard on him. “There’s been enough death around here.” Helen said. “I stayed to help and I’ve been glad to do it, but I will not stand by and watch another nightmare. You’re not going to cause more pain to the people who care about you.”

  With tears streaming down her face, she grabbed his shoulders and made him look at her. “Do you think that’s what Jen, Jacob, and Tina would want? I know my daughter and grandchildren are in heaven looking down on us, and I know that someday I’ll join them there.” She took a deep breath and plunged on. “Shane, if you kill yourself, I believe you’ll never see them again. Think about that!”

  Shane’s eyes opened wide; this was a sobering thought. “I’ve never been an overly religious man, but I do believe in God and that there is a heaven. I’ll be honest with you, Helen. I can’t understand how God let this happen to my wife, who was such a good person, and to those two beautiful, innocent children.” He shuddered with a deep breath, “But maybe believing we could all be together someday is the one thing that might help me pull myself together.”

  Gaining control over her emotions, Helen gently put her hand on the side of his face, “Oh, Shane,” she whispered. “I know it’s true. I just know it.”

  He shifted his eyes to the right, and then lowered his head in shame, “I’m sorry about last night, I know I really scared you.”

  Over the next couple of weeks he started seeing the grief counselor, which helped some. Though he was still drinking he was able to keep it more under control.

  One afternoon a box showed up on his front porch. One of the kid’s teachers had left it next to the door. Their teachers had packed up some of Tina’s and Jacob’s papers and projects. He sighed as he read the note, “God Bless, we thought you might like to keep these for some good memories.” Shane picked up the box on the way inside. He tried to open it but couldn’t bring himself to lift the lid. “I can’t deal with this now,” he said quietly to himself. He finally carried the box over to the hall clos
et, and put it on the shelf in the back corner where it would be out of sight.

  He continued sticking to his promise about controlling his drinking and seeing the counselor. Three more weeks crawled by and Helen began to feel that Shane was no longer a threat to himself. “It’s good to see the light coming back in your eyes. It’s time for me to pack up and go back home. I’ve been so busy worrying about you that I haven’t taken time to deal with my own grief, and I sorely need to.”

  “I understand,” Shane said with mixed emotions. The thought of being alone was still frightening. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get through these last several weeks.”

  Before she left, Helen made Terry promise to keep a close watch on him, then she gave Shane a final hug and drove away.

  Chapter 5

  The weeks gradually rolled into months, Shane finally decided it was time to wean himself off the antidepressants. He was now finding some solace with occasional work, but Terry was still doing most of the riding. Shane couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything with Sloppy. Although he could tell that the horse was missing the attention, she was simply a source of too many memories.

  Terry was glad to finally see his friend becoming more involved at the barn. “I think anything you do around horses is good therapy,” he said with a reassuring smile.

  Shane responded by forcing a grin and nodding. Most of the time he would just check out Terry’s work by riding the horses a few times a week. From this, Shane began developing a sense of pride in the quality of training his good friend had achieved. However, his state of mind was still operating on a simple day-to-day existence, and the concept of time passing by was of little concern. After all, it had only been a few months since the tragedy and every day he was forced to deal with the realization that the house was way too quiet and his bed too cold and empty. Sometimes he swore he could still smell the scent of Jen’s shampoo on her pillow. The occasional good night’s sleep he did get was usually filled with dreams of his family, followed by a short, but well-fought battle with an all too familiar anxiety as he woke to his reality. He had become somewhat of a recluse, never reaching out for companionship or returning calls of concerned friends. Although he began working more, he still had trouble putting in a full day.