Little Girls and Their Ponies Read online

  Alice had gone hollow. She nodded tightly again.

  “This is why I wanted to talk to you. See, we don’t have the room at the practice. And we need the stalls for actual critical cases. These horses need somewhere to mend, a place where they can recover with some peace and quiet.”

  His eyes drifted to the large ten-stall barn and fields next to them, but Alice kept her eyes glued to his face. She didn’t look, couldn’t look. Tucker settled at her feet, propping his chin on her bare toes. He used to chase her and Rosie across those same fields that Matthew was examining now.

  “I need your help, I guess. You’re the only farm that doesn’t have other horses. These sick ones need to be under quarantine.” Matthew searched her face for a long moment, finally noticing the surge of pain he was causing her. He took in her tense shoulders and tight mouth with a shake of his head. “I don’t know… you were just the first one I thought of. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.” But her voice cracked. He stood up to comfort her, but she shifted away. “I can’t help you. I don’t—I mean, we don’t have horses anymore.” She gestured to the empty barn and wasted, overgrown fields. “We don’t do that anymore. I mean—”

  “Alice,” he said, “you don’t have to explain. I understand.”

  “Okay.” Her throat was thick, her voice barely more than a squeak.

  He stepped back, his eyes falling under the shadow of his hat’s brim. “Sorry for bothering you. Do you need anything? Help inside or something?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He nodded briskly. “Well, I’ll see you later then. Thanks for your time.” With that, he hurried down the steps, his long strides carrying him quickly across the yard to his worn truck.

  Alice watched him go, her eyes darting between him and the barn. Horses were the forbidden subject. The notion was too painful to even discuss because the only horse that mattered was dead. Alice didn’t have a pillow this time as the tears pricked in the back of her eyes. She remembered Rosie’s screams in the last few minutes of her life.

  After the helicopter had taken her and her father away, someone had pried Rosie from the crumpled steel. They’d taken her body from the scene, and Alice’s mother had given the orders to dispose of it. Later, Laura told Alice that she hadn’t been thinking clearly; she hadn’t realized Alice would want —need—the body back. Her mother hadn’t understood why Alice had screamed and cried and tore apart her stitches.

  She couldn’t help Rosie. She’d betrayed her in that. Her best friend had died alone, and now Rosie was gone, without a place to rest where Alice could visit her.

  “Matt, wait!” she called, lurching up from the swing. Tucker sat up and barked. “Wait!”

  Matthew spun around. “Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying back, like she might need him. But she’d finally looked over at the barn, and now she found that she couldn’t look away.

  “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice breaking, a tear slipping down her cheek.

  “What’s wrong?” He was on the porch and in front of her in two strides. He pulled her to him, like they were old friends, tucking her damaged face against his chest. “Why are you crying? I’m so sorry, Alice. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Apparently, he wasn’t listening either. Alice huffed against his shirt, roughly swiping at the tear. The annoyance helped to clear the sadness away enough for her to speak. “Nothing is wrong. I’m saying I’ll help you.”

  He stepped back, frowning. “No, Alice. I shouldn’t have asked you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Good grief. I’m gonna help you. Why are you backing out now?” She scratched Tucker’s belly with her toes so she would have something to do besides look at Matthew. She didn’t want him to see the redness in her eyes and know that she was barely keeping it together.

  “Well, I … I mean, will you be okay with that?”

  “I’m not going to do the work,” Alice said quickly. “I have physical therapy and … stuff. I can’t.”

  “Right.” Matthew nodded eagerly. “I’ll be able to handle everything between farm calls and appointments during the day. You won’t have to do anything.”

  “No point in not using a perfectly good barn,” Alice mumbled, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

  “It’s a real nice barn.” Matthew bit his lip. When she didn’t respond, he went on. “Can I bring them out tomorrow?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll bring shavings and hay with me too. Can I walk down there now and check things out?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want to come with me?”

  “I have to do my exercises,” she lied.

  “Oh, right.” Matthew shifted his weight again. “I really appreciate this,” he offered, not knowing what else to say.

  “It’s no problem.” Another lie.

  They stood together for an uncomfortable beat of silence. Finally, like it was the brightest idea he’d had all week, Matthew fumbled for his phone in his pocket. “Can I have your number? I’ll text you tomorrow to let you know what time I’m coming.”

  She rattled off the numbers quickly, ready to be back inside and away from the warm summer breeze carrying all-too-familiar smells. If she let herself, she recalled the exact pitch of Rosie’s whinny from inside the barn when she heard Alice coming down the drive. It was all there, all those memories, sneaking up on Alice.

  She was so distracted that Matthew’s hug caught her off guard, and she actually hugged him back. Recovering, she pulled away. “Thank you so much for doing this,” he said, grinning down at her and sounding more genuine this time. He seemed less nervous when he treated her like someone normal and not like a broken toy.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll text you tomorrow. Bye, Tucker.” He bent to pet the dog before he walked back down the porch steps, waving over his shoulder. She didn’t return the gesture because she was already hurrying back inside, screen door slamming as tears started falling again.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning went as most mornings did for Alice. When she’d recovered, she reached for her cane, her red-rimmed eyes settling on her phone. With a flick of her finger, she confirmed the lack of text messages. She rose from the bed, frowning at herself for getting so worked up over Matthew and the horses. She brushed her teeth and put on her creams as she gave herself a pep talk. Over and over, she told herself it wasn’t a big deal; she could handle this. But she kept picturing Matt and his obvious relief that she’d accepted, and her insides twisted again.

  Later, her mom came in with her breakfast, and Alice remembered she’d completely forgotten to mention the horses to her last night. “Uh, Mom?”

  “Yeah, sweetie?”

  “Matthew Weller came by to see me yesterday.” Alice squished up her nose, which she was positive only made her look uglier.

  Her mom froze, her hand hovering above the glass of orange juice she’d just set on the tray. “Oh…” She drew out the word. “That was nice of him. I didn’t know you two were close.”

  “We’re not really. He needs some help with a group of abused horses. Well, a place for them to stay … and stuff.”

  “Ah…” Her mom was clearly struggling. “Well…”

  “I told him yes.”

  That clearly surprised Laura the most. She tucked a piece of blond hair tightly behind her ear. “You did?”

  There had been a time after the accident, once Alice was healed, when her mom thought everything might go back to normal. Like Alice would get another horse to replace Rosie and just go on with her life as if nothing had happened that day on the road. Alice had set her mom straight quickly. She reminded Laura every day with her bitterness and her refusal to even discuss the subject of another horse or Rosie or that day.

  So Alice shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but the motion pulled the burns along her collarbone and made her grimace. “He needs the help, and the barn is just sitting empty.”

  With a little breath of air es
caping her lips, her mom sat down on the edge of the unmade bed. Alice’s pillow had a big wet stain on it, which Laura ignored. “How do you feel about this? He didn’t pressure you into it, did he?”

  “No.” She blinked at her mom.

  Unlike Matthew, Laura was used to Alice’s deadpan, obvious answers. She’d lived with them the last eight months. “If you’re okay with it, then I am too. It’ll be nice to help out some horses.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Her mom slapped her hands on her knees and stood. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll keep a lookout for him.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” The words came out automatically. It was like when the old Alice used to ask if they could get another barn cat or if she could go to a rodeo out of state that weekend. That’s what this idea about helping abused horses felt like: something the old, pre-accident Alice would ask. The new Alice never said “thank you,” and she certainly never talked about horses. The words were completely foreign, hanging in the air between mother and daughter.

  Her mother paused, caught off guard. Alice felt horrible for the truly surprised look on her mom’s face. The guilt was new too, a product of the corner she’d turned when she accepted Matthew’s request. Alice wondered what else would change.

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. I love you.”

  Alice turned away, looking down at her breakfast plate. “Me too,” she mumbled. When her mom was almost at the bedroom door, Alice added, “Would it be okay if we let Tucker in for a little bit. I think he might be lonely.”

  Her mom smiled a little wistfully; when Tucker was a puppy, Alice used to sneak him inside a lot. “Sure, sweetie. I’ll let him in.”

  Alice nodded as her mom left the room, leaving the door cracked a little. Barely a minute later, excited scuffling scratched across the hardwood floors. In the hall, Tucker skidded past, missing her door by six feet. He raced back and barreled into her room, sending the door banging against the wall. Alice laughed—something else that was new—as he launched himself into her lap.

  They sat like that for a few hours with Tucker dozing, sprawled across her legs, her hand resting close to her phone. When it finally buzzed and the screen lit up to illuminate a new text message, Alice jumped enough to wake Tucker. Her stomach flipped when she saw it was from Matt.

  Matthew: On my way. Thanks again.

  Alice: You’re welcome. I’ll open the field gate. You can unload them in there if you want.

  Nausea twisted up her gut, but she shooed Tucker down and stood. She put on a pair of flip-flops and picked up her cane. Tucker kept pace with her as they walked slowly down the hall. In the kitchen, her mom was canning tomatoes. Alice hated tomatoes, and there were too many jars for Laura to eat alone; it was just something to do to pass the time, Alice figured.

  “I’m going to go open the gate for Matt. He’s on his way.”

  Her mom spun around, splattering tomato juice onto the floor. She didn’t notice. “Do you want me to do it?”

  “I’m okay.” Alice turned to leave, but she paused, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You dropped juice on the floor.”

  Her mother’s eyes went wide; it was the first almost-joke Alice had made in a long, long time. Laura laughed a little too loudly, clearly not understanding the sarcasm and making Alice grimace before she went outside, her steps slow and careful as she navigated the porch’s stairs.

  She kept her head down, her eyes on the road as she went to the field. Tucker ran about, sniffing and doing dog things. The grass at the edge of the road was tall where her mom didn’t keep it mowed down. As Alice waded through to the gate, her cane tangled in some taller weeds. She stumbled. Her arms pin-wheeled for balance, her hand shooting out at the last second to catch herself.

  Collecting her breath, she rubbed her hand against the fence. It was rough, and paint flaked off against her palm. She’d received countless splinters from this fence, and she’d used it to boost herself onto Rosie’s bare back too many times to count. Like second nature, her fingers flicked the chain loose from its catch. She let the gate swing in toward the field, the metal screeching from the lack of use.

  Over her shoulder, gravel popped under tires and Tucker let out an excited bark. She looked up. Matthew’s white truck bounced down the drive, his stock trailer kicking up dust behind him. Alice looked away and crossed the road. She was up the porch and inside by the time he pulled into the field.

  “Don’t you want to see the horses?” her mom asked as Alice passed the kitchen.

  “No.”

  Safely inside her room, tucking into her chair with the television muted, Alice listened to the sounds outside.

  “Hey, Matthew!” her mother called out to the field after he’d opened his truck’s door.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Montgomery. How have you been?”

  Alice grunted, thinking that was a stupid question to ask, but she leaned closer to her window so that she heard their conversation better.

  “Just wonderful! Thank you for asking. I heard you took over your father’s practice?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did. And I appreciate the use of your barn. I hope you don’t think I went around you by asking Alice…”

  The uncertainty in his voice was clear, and it annoyed Alice. Did he think she was such a pathetic invalid that she couldn’t even make a decision?

  “Oh, no! Not at all. You were right to ask Alice. This was always her domain.”

  “I appreciate that, ma’am.”

  “I’ll get out of your way so you can get those poor animals situated. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Montgomery. I would like that. Been a busy day.”

  Alice practically heard her mother’s smile from inside the house. She rolled her eyes. The nerves from earlier danced in her stomach, and she couldn’t attribute it to the horses’ arrival this time.

  The screen door opened and slammed again. Soon, pots and pans clanged around in the kitchen, the sounds of her mother pulling out all the stops for dinner. She probably couldn’t contain her excitement at the prospect of a man coming over, especially a man Alice’s age. Laura wanted nothing more than for Alice to recover and be healthy, but also for her to find a man and get married and have babies like normal women do.

  But Alice knew that dream was just a delusion.

  A couple hours later, she ventured over to her window. Dust constantly coated the curtains, no matter how often her mom cleaned them. Alice held her breath as she parted the fabric, peering through the folds and outside.

  Matthew walked between his trailer and the barn, carrying two bales of hay at once. He’d taken his shirt off in the afternoon’s summer heat, and his tan skin glistened with sweat. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, his faded jeans clinging to his hips. Alice’s scalp tightened as she stared at him, her stomach flipping.

  “Dream on, girlfriend,” she muttered to herself.

  Her eyes flickered back to the field, and all thoughts of hot guys were lost. Her stomach twisted at the sight of the six horses standing listlessly together in the field, their heads drooped with exhaustion. Their hip bones and ribs stood out drastically, their spines sticking out like rails; the horses’ hair was dull and haggard, with the occasional bald spot and festering sores dotting their bodies. Their eyes were sunken and lifeless, hopeless and despaired. The saddest thing about them was that they didn’t seem to realize they’d been saved. Alice stared until her eyes were dry.

  She had no clue how anyone could neglect an animal, but she believed they deserved a special place in Hell, where the fires were good and hot. Alice knew a thing or two about fires, and she believed burning over and over for eternity would be a suitable punishment for the assholes.

  Letting the curtains fall back into place, she turned away from the window and headed toward the bathroom, leaning heavily on her cane. She was tired from the day, having moved about more than normal, which was pretty pathetic actually. She’d only walked to the field and stood at her window.
Yet her right leg was sore and tight, so she stood in the shower for a long time, letting the water turn her skin pruney.

  When the water had washed away the nagging, relentless thoughts of the fragile horses in her field, she got out and wrapped a towel around her chest. It swallowed her, and she had to tuck it tight underneath her armpits to keep it from falling to her feet. She carefully brushed her thin hair and put on the tiniest amount of makeup before she went back to her room and picked out an outfit. It wasn’t anything nice, but she told herself jeans and a cute top was a step in the right direction.

  What direction it was, she didn’t really know.

  For months since her accident, she hadn’t felt the urge to look nice. How could she? She would never look nice again. But tonight, the need to wear pretty clothes and makeup was a self-preservation instinct that she allowed herself.

  She went into the kitchen just as a knock came from the side door. “Come in!” her mother called.

  Matthew opened the door and came in, his shirt back on but sticking to his chest. “Hey, Alice.” He nodded at her with a smile. “Smells good, Mrs. Montgomery. May I use a bathroom to wash up a bit?”

  “I’ll show you,” Alice said without thinking.

  “Thanks,” he said, looking back at her, his smile spreading.

  Pressing her lips together, she motioned for him to follow. As she walked out of the room, she felt her mother’s eyes on her like any daughter inherently can. They itched up her spine and made her hasten her step. In her hurry down the hall, the corner of a rug flipped up and caused her to trip for the second time that day.

  She would’ve fallen if Matthew hadn’t reached out, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Easy there,” he said, righting her. The hem of her shirt had ridden up, exposing a slice of her burnt side. The nerve endings were long gone, but she sensed Matthew’s hand was there.

  His eyes softened, which surprised her. She’d been expecting him to jerk his hand back, but he seemed to let it linger. “Does it hurt?”

  “Just the soreness,” she said simply, stepping away from him and back down the hallway. He followed closely behind her in case she fell again. Subtly, she adjusted her shirt.