by Meg Collett
A gunshot rang out through the air once, then twice, in rapid succession, making Alice flinch, even though it wasn’t a shocking sound due the amount of hunters in the area. She was about to turn away when a high-pitched whinny came from outside. The fear and panic in the sound chilled her insides, made her hands start to quiver.
The sound of pounding hoof beats filled her ears as she hurried around the corner of the barn. In the field, the palomino mare panicked as more shots rang out. The other horses nervously shifted about with their heads high in the air, but the golden mare streaked around the field, her legs churning beneath her. She took the corners dangerously fast, stopping only when she was a couple feet from crashing into the fence. She was clearly terrified, her screams piercing, the whites of her eyes blazing and nostrils heaving.
The horse was going to hurt herself badly, Alice knew. She watched from the other side of the fence, her eyes racing to keep up with the wild mare. From the house came the sound of the front door slamming.
“What’s going on?” her mom called over to her.
“Those gunshots spooked her.”
Just then, the mare wheeled around, racing toward the other fence line. She stopped, her feet skidding on the damp mud. With a great rattle that set the boards shaking against their nails, the mare crashed against the fence. But the wood held, and the mare spun and peeled off in the other direction.
“She’s going to run through the fence!”
“I know,” Alice muttered to herself. But she couldn’t let that happen. Knowing what she needed to do, she went to the gate, flipping the chain out of the keeper. She slipped inside, securing the gate behind her in case the mare tried to bolt.
The horse ran in tight, crazed circles around the nervous herd. Her shrill whinnies were like cries that pierced through Alice’s heart, but she walked farther into the field with her hand outstretched and her eyes down. She didn’t want to challenge or pose a threat to the mare.
The mare spotted Alice as she wheeled around from the far corner of the field. Her head came up and she cried out again. Not knowing what else to do, Alice stepped into the horse’s path, her hands out, hoping the horse would stop.
The mare didn’t slow as she came barreling toward Alice with her mane streaking in the wind and her ears pinned back. She wasn’t slowing a fraction and, in her fear, was unconcerned about running over Alice. Alice tried to hold her ground, but her heart beat painfully in her chest, her fear pulsing through her veins. She wavered as the mare crashed closer.
At the last second, Alice dove out of the way, barely managing to stay on her feet. The mare kept screaming as she ran to the other end of the field, blinding Alice with memories from the accident. Her legs quivered so badly that she wished she’d brought her cane in with her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down.
“Careful, Alice!” her mom shouted.
When the mare came back around, Alice once again stepped in her way, narrowing her eyes in concentration. This time she didn’t move or let her fear get the better of her. The mare would stop; she wouldn’t hurt Alice on purpose. She held up her hands, her voice soothing as she said, “Easy, girl.”
When she was feet away, the mare skidded to a stop, flinging her head and snorting. Sweat slicked across her yellow hair, her chest pulsing with the wild beats of her heart. Alice stepped forward and took hold of the mare’s halter, letting out a relieved breath.
“Easy, pretty girl. It’s okay,” she murmured into the mare’s ear.
The mare heaved a shaky breath, her legs trembling. Alice stroked her hand down the horse’s jaw, repeating the motion over and over. It clearly soothed both her and the mare.
It had been a long time since she’d stood in this position, and a thick fog settled over her mind. The texture of the mare’s hair wasn’t as smooth as Rosie’s had been, but it was close enough to make Alice’s fingers tremble as she ran them across the horse’s jaw. Her vision slanted, and, for a moment, the golden hair beneath her hand became Rosie’s deep chocolate.
The mare turned her head into Alice’s chest and pressed against her as if begging to be held. Alice wrapped her arms around the horse’s face and held her tight as the mare breathed another deep breath, seemingly content with the comfort she found in Alice’s arms. So Alice held the mare and calmed her, not noticing the tears streaming down her own cheeks.
It undid her, this familiarity, this comfort. Somewhere deep beneath the pain, her heart had craved this kind of contact. Through her tears, Alice knew this was a giant step toward healing herself, but the recovery hurt as much as the accident. It was as though her heart was being torn open and laid at her feet, beating and straining for life.
They stood like that for a long time, the mare never moving. The herd had long since returned to grazing, and Alice’s tears had dried up. Both girl and horse leaned into each other as if they were the only ones in the world. Bending her head, Alice kissed the spot between the mare’s ears, right beside her thick forelock. She’d kissed Rosie there too many times to count.
In return, the mare nibbled at Alice’s pockets. With one last pat, Alice wiped under her puffy eyes. Just then, Matthew’s truck pulled off the main road and into their drive, his windows rolling down to look at Alice and the mare in the field. The horses turned and pricked their ears toward the sound.
Alice walked to the gate as he got out of the truck, his eyes nervously searching over her body. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”
“No,” Alice said. “Somebody was hunting nearby. The gunshots scared the palomino mare.”
“Shit. Did she hurt herself?” Matthew peered around Alice, his eyes scanning the mare’s body.
“I don’t think so.”
“You okay?” he asked, turning back to her. “Your eyes are red.”
“Sinuses. You need help bringing them in?”
“Uh, sure?” His words stuttered slightly from the shock of Alice volunteering to help with the horses.
Alice nodded and started gathering up the lead lines from where they hung neatly on hooks beside the gate. Matthew paused briefly before he followed her back into the field. She went straight to the palomino mare, who watched her with deep-set brown eyes, like she saw into the very depths of Alice’s soul.
For once, that was fine with Alice.
* * *
The next day was one of Matthew’s rare days off. An emergency call might still come in, but, for right now, he was sprawled out in a lounger with Alice’s computer in his lap while she cleaned a stall. Tucker lay on his back between Matthew’s legs, making man and dog look eerily similar. Alice rolled her eyes at them before she went back in the stall, toting a fresh bag of shavings.
“So why did you need my laptop so badly?” she called from the stall as she dumped out the shavings and raked through them.
“Mine’s broken.”
“Clearly.”
“I wanted to go on and list the horses on a few adoption sites.”
Alice stilled, her eyes on the wall’s grooves at the back of the stall. “They’re ready for that?”
“The process will take a while, but they’re getting better with each day. Most will make a full recovery.”
“Don’t you need pictures and all that?” She rubbed her thumb over the twisted scars along the palm of her right hand.
“Took some on my phone yesterday. Emailed them to my account.”
The computer’s keys clicked and clacked as Matthew worked. Alice rubbed her palm and stared at the wall, her weight shifting back and forth. She remembered kissing the palomino mare in the same spot she’d always kissed Rosie. “Matthew?”
“Yeah?” he asked, clearly distracted.
“Not the palomino mare.”
A long pause. She couldn’t see him from inside the stall, so she didn’t know the look on his face. “What do you mean, Alice?”
“Not her.” Alice swallowed the lump in her throat. “Don’t list her for adoption.”
He shifted to look back at her through the metal bars along the front of the stall, making the chair squeak in complaint, but she eased out of his line of sight. “Alice … this is a long process. If I don’t list them now, it’ll be months or maybe even a year before we find them good homes. She’s the healthiest one of the bunch.”
“No.”
“Alice—”
“Not her.” Alice set her pitchfork on the wall and walked out of the stall. “I’ll adopt her,” she said as she walked by Matthew, noticing his surprised look. On the way out of the barn, she added over her shoulder, “Can you finish the stalls? I’m going to see my dad.”
* * *
“Thanks for coming with me today, sweetie.” Her mom put the car in park in front of the extended care living facility and looked over at Alice. This time her smile was small and slightly nervous. “I know this is hard for you, but I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you.”
“He won’t know who I am, Mom. He doesn’t even know who you are.”
Laura’s smile trembled. “I know,” she whispered before quickly climbing out of the car. Alice watched her go, thinking she didn’t know her mom at all anymore.
After a moment’s pause, Alice followed her mom inside, using her cane only for the moral support. She wore a long dress and a cardigan to cover her burns. Her hair was brushed over her right shoulder, strategically hair-sprayed to curl over her face. She didn’t want to scare any of the patients.
The inside of the facility smelled like desperation to Alice. The medicinal scent permeated the walls, mixing with urine and body odor to create a nearly toxic combination that leached up the inside her nose. She bowed her head and hurried after her mom, who knew exactly where they were going. The nurses all waved and said hello as they passed, their eyes lingering on Alice.
“Hey, Laura!” one nurse said, coming out of a room carrying a tray of blended mush that looked completely unappetizing. Her scrubs were pink with dancing gray elephants, the material stretched tight around her generous waist.
“Good afternoon, Wendy! We’re here to see Ed.” Laura’s smile split apart her face, her arm going around Alice’s thin shoulders, which Alice quickly shrugged off.
“That’s wonderful! He’s in the rec room.” The nurse looked at Alice, her smile spreading as she set the tray on a rack positioned outside the room. “And you must be Alice.”
Alice nodded, her throat too tight to speak. This was the first time she’d visited her father. Before, she’d always counted him a causality alongside Rosie. Alongside herself. But something about holding the mare yesterday had loosened something inside of her. She felt that it was finally time to see him, even if it was only to say goodbye.
“Ed will be so happy to see you.” Then the woman winked at her, and Alice wanted to punch her.
Her father wouldn’t be happy to see her. He wasn’t happy to see anyone. He was a glorified vegetable who didn’t remember his family. Her dad would rather have been dead than be pushed around in a wheelchair, positioned in front of a television for half the day with his diaper changed every couple hours.
Alice looked away from the woman without acknowledging her. Her mother and the nurse talked for another minute, but Alice ignored them. She looked at the sticky linoleum, while a woman down the hall kept repeating “home” over and over again from inside a room.
Finally, they went to the rec room. It was a large space with a couple televisions and game tables. Other family members were strewn about the room, talking with their people or playing a game with them. Horrible, generic paintings hung randomly around the room, and the lights were too bright. Alice fell into step behind her mother.
All too soon, Laura stopped, kneeling down beside a man in a wheelchair. Alice took a deep breath before she looked at her father.
He was a gray man, a skinny man, hunched over in his wheelchair. His jaw was slack, his eyes far away. Someone had combed his hair, slicking it back over the large, stretching scar on his head. His skin looked like dandruff.
“Hey, honey!” her mom said brightly. “Look who I brought with me today!”
His eyes flickered over to them without a hint of recognition before looking away again.
“It’s Alice. She wanted to come say hi. Isn’t that nice?”
Laura pulled up a chair beside her husband’s wheelchair, motioning to one for Alice. Reluctantly, she sat down, but she didn’t look at her dad again. Her mom chattered on and on about the most random, meaningless things while Alice lost herself in memories.
The tractor-trailer had collided with the truck on Alice’s side. The glint of steel and chrome flashed through her mind. The sound of the blaring horn. The collapsed door had pinned her into her seat so that when they went catapulting over the side of the ridge, flipping edge over edge, she’d been held down while her dad banged around like a rat in a cage next to her.
The seat back had broken, snapping his seat belt. When they hit the tree that had stopped their progress, her dad’s body had been thrown forward, his head cracking through the front windshield. Most of his body wasn’t in the cab of the truck when it started burning. The door that had saved her from the same fate as her father as they’d crashed down the steep descent held her prisoner as the flames built.
They’d been on their way to a rodeo. Her dad always drove her; it was their thing. He’d played his oldies music, singing along with every word. She’d smiled, rolling her eyes at him. But they were a team. Always a team. Just like her and Rosie.
He’d been the one who found Rosie when she was just a filly. He’d liked the look of her, the way she was built. Good bones, he’d said. Good spirit. She’s a runner, he assured Alice as they drove out to the seller’s farm. She’ll make a good one for you, he’d said, clapping her on the shoulder as they watched the spry filly bucking and galloping through her field. He’d bought Rosie that day, a good horse for his good daughter.
A great horse. A great dad. A dream team.
Now … now they were just a torn-apart guardrail, a totaled truck, a twisted hunk of steel trailer, and bones. Bones and blood. Bones and blood and wasted life. They should all be in a grave. But none of them had the peace they deserved.
That accident had taken everything from her family, from her, from her mother. Her father. Rosie. By some twist of fate, Alice was the survivor. The lucky one.
This was luck.
Alice couldn’t take it anymore. She blinked away the tears and stood, scraping the chair against the floor and winning the stares of the entire room. Or most of it. The movement caught her dad’s limited attention. The bright blue of his eyes, the same color as hers, was still the same. They caught on her for a moment and then looked away, fading to whatever place he lived now. Alice tore her gaze away and walked out of the room.
Chapter Seven
That night she waited in the barn, leaning against the palomino mare’s shared stall. The other horse didn’t bother to look Alice’s way, but the mare stood with her neck stretched over the door, her probing lips searching for more bits of apple in Alice’s palm. The mare’s whiskers tickled, making Alice smile softly. She dug out another slice from her pocket.
“Hey, you.”
Tucker jumped up from where he’d been snoozing at her feet at the sound of Matthew’s voice. “Hey,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes on the mare.
“Some guard dog you are, buddy,” Matthew said, bending down to pet Tucker.
“I didn’t hear you drive up,” Alice said, letting the mare pick up the slice of apple from her hand.
Matthew rubbed Tucker’s head, scratching behind his ears in the perfect spot to have the dog’s back leg thumping. “I’m sneaky like that.”
“Right.”
The silence stretched out. The mare licked the groove between Alice’s fingers, searching for even the tiniest amount of apple residue. She pulled out another slice. Matthew stopped at the stall door beside her.
“She likes apples?”
Alice lau
ghed, the sound slight and half-hearted, but it was the realest one she had lately. “She loves them.”
“Have you named her yet?”
“No.”
“You should if you’re going to adopt her,” he said, his eyebrows raised. She cut him a narrowed glance. He shrugged. “Just saying.”
“You say a lot.” Alice stepped back and wiped her hands on her pants. They were sticky with horse slobber and chewed-up apple bits.
Matthew chuckled. “Someone ought to. Otherwise we wouldn’t talk at all.”
Alice nodded in agreement. They stood on either side of the stall door with the mare’s head in the middle. Tucker lounged at their feet, his life complete now that Matthew was back.
“Can I ask you for a favor, Matt?” Alice asked, her voice slow and careful. She’d been thinking a lot since coming back from seeing her father.
“I’ll do it.”
She slanted her eyes up to him. He was a lot taller than she was. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
His mouth twitched up into his crooked, silly grin. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”
“Why?”
“You ask that a lot, you know. You question everything.”
“I just don’t get it.”
He took a step closer. The mare bumped his hand with her nose, searching for more apples. “I like you, Alice.”
She shook her head, laughing bitterly. “I especially don’t get that.”
Beneath the brim of his hat, in the shadow of his eyes, Matthew actually looked frustrated. It was a rare look for him, given his normal patience. He clenched his jaw and took another step to her, effectively closing off all the distance between them.
Confused, Alice looked up at him, her mouth open to ask what he was doing.
He answered her question.
His hands wrapped around her neck, gently—so, so gently—lifting her face up to his. He bent his tall frame over her, leaning down until his mouth touched hers, his lips light and easy. His fingers wound into her hair, what little was left. His hand had to have gone over her scars, but she hadn’t felt it, and he hadn’t jerked away, disgusted by her.