loved the girl you used to be. Logan did, too. And would again if you’d give him half a chance.”
Standing motionless in the living room, Amy watched her mother leave. The house was quiet. All the guests had turned in for the night and Logan would be coming in soon. A steady ticking from the clock on the wall marked the time, bringing the future closer in small moments that weighed on her shoulders.
Amy glanced down at her boots. They were as banged up and muddied as they’d been when she’d run reckless as a teen. They felt as comforting now as they did back then. As if she could bound effortlessly across the ground with every step.
She wondered if the girl she’d been then was still inside her, the good and the bad in equal measure. She continued to ponder this long after she’d crawled into bed.
Logan joined her soon after, wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep. The gentle rhythm of his breathing offered comfort but sleep escaped her. She eventually gave up and slipped out of his arms, dressing and leaving the room quietly.
It was dark save for the light of the stars as she made her way to the stables. The path seemed to stretch farther than ever in the chill of the night air. She stopped more than once, almost turning back, but continued to put one boot in front of the other until she reached Thunder’s stall and placed her palm to the bars.
“Hey,” she whispered.
Thunder’s dark bulk shifted. He stomped a time or two and tossed his head.
“Not getting any sleep, either, huh?” Amy smiled. “Want to come with me? Take a night stroll like we used to and stretch your legs?”
He kicked, hooves striking the stall door. The sharp crack of wood split her ears. Amy held her ground, keeping her hand flat against the bars.
Thunder kicked again then paced, growing calmer and slowly approaching her hand. His nose drew closer, nostrils moving rapidly with strong pulls of air.
“Remember me?” Her throat closed and her vision blurred. “Because I think I need you to.”
He nudged closer, his wet nose and swift breaths tickling her skin. She reached with slow movements for the lead rope hanging on the wall.
“We’ll take it one step at a time,” she whispered. “Until we trust each other again. That okay with you?”
Thunder tossed his head and pawed the ground but she managed to get the lead on him and move him to the round pen. She slipped the rope off him once they made it inside the enclosure. He took off, bucking and kicking at the fence.
Her heart pounded against her ribs but she pushed on and walked him back several times, moving through the familiar routine and feeling the strength return to her trembling legs.
“Easy,” she murmured, lifting her arms.
The glow from the starlit sky pooled over him. His dark mane ruffled with each push of the wind. He tossed his head up, crying and stomping the ground, eyes flaring with fear.
Amy’s arms grew heavy but she kept them up, palms out. “I’m here,” she whispered. “Right here. Whenever you’re ready.”
Thunder pinned his ears and ducked his head.
“I’m right here,” she repeated.
Her body quaked. She closed her eyes, the lump in her throat tightening. Thunder’s hoof hit the ground, the solid thud disturbing the stillness of the night, and his heavy pulls of air rasped across the distance between them.
It was silent for a moment. Then the familiar pounding of hooves sounded.
Amy tensed as the rapid slams increased in speed, growing closer. She opened her eyes, pushed her arms higher and advanced, pushing him back.
Thunder cut right, sweeping back with heavy stomps. His cry slashed through the air, piercing her ears. He tossed his head then nestled against the fence and stilled.
Amy waited for several minutes then advanced slowly toward his hip. Thunder jerked as she touched his back but stilled when she moved her palm over him with soothing whispers. His breathing slowed and Amy’s followed the same, calm rhythm, her breath passing past her lips in white puffs on the frigid air.
“I’m sorry,” she rasped.
Her throat tightened, cutting off the sound, and tears scalded her cheeks. The cry echoed inside her. It burned her chest, leaving her gasping and mouthing the soundless words.
I’m sorry.
And God help her, she was. Sorry for Thunder’s pain. For betraying Logan. For every day that passed without her beautiful daughter in it.
Her arms dropped, her hands clutching her middle, and she cried. For Sara. For Logan. For the girl she used to be. And what could have been.
She didn’t notice how much time passed. Didn’t realize when the tears finally stopped. But the knot in her chest untied and her shoulders sagged with sweet release. The kind she hadn’t known in years. A sense of peace. A welling of hope and forgiveness. Silent comforts that had escaped her for so long.
Thunder remained still, head lowered and body relaxed.
“I’m right here,” Amy whispered. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She began walking, moving slowly along the curve of the fence and rounding the pen. The wind slowed to a gentle breeze and she inhaled, the clean air filling her lungs and refreshing her spirit.
It was on the ninth pass that Thunder followed. He took hesitant steps at her back but kept time with her, matching her step for step.
They completed one lap. Then another and another until Amy lost count. The only reminder of their efforts was the sheen of sweat collecting beneath her shirt and coating Thunder’s hide.
The air warmed and a hint of red peeked above the horizon. Dawn approached and the tendrils of sunlight had never looked so bright or felt so warm. Amy stopped, soaking in the glow of the sun.
Something warm and wet nuzzled her palm. Thunder’s broad head nudged her arm up. Smiling, she turned and looped her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead to his warm neck and praising him.
Thunder’s heat spread to her belly. A gentle throb pulsed in her veins, flowing through her blood and pooling in her middle. She knew the feeling. Recognized it immediately, even though she hadn’t experienced it in years.
It lit her up on the inside, fighting off the frigid air and blazing bright in her chest. She was hopeful. And that feeling was strong. More all-consuming than ever.
Amy smiled, wrapping her arms tighter around Thunder’s neck, holding on to it all and savoring every delicious thrill. The hope of a miracle. Another chance at being a mother.
The sweet promise of the future had never felt this good before. And she knew the only reason it did now was because she’d felt the bad.
“Are you tired, boy?”
Thunder snorted, nudging her with his nose.
She laughed.
