CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
JAKE SETTLED EASILY into the saddle, picking up the reins with a confidence born of hours on horseback. Beneath him Carlotta sidled, snorting and shaking her head, sensing her master’s mood and anticipating what she knew was to come. She needed no aid to urge her forward as he turned his eyes, as always, toward the skyline.
There was something about the vast infinity of the sky that made a strange kind of sense to Jake, when it seemed that there was little sense in life anymore. The way the bleak, ancient mass of the fell met the sky’s glorious, timeless canopy, made him feel somehow insignificant, a mere dot in the march of time. He liked insignificance.
The mare’s hooves echoed in his ears as his mind spilled over with memories—memories that flooded out from their confinement, painful and raw. A whole year, twelve long, endless months, and the accident still felt as fresh as it had on the day it happened. Every morning, when he awoke from yet another restless night, he went through the motions, working as hard as he could, talking, smiling, eating—and yet all he felt inside was sadness. The only time he felt even half alive these days was when he was riding.
Asking Carlotta to canter, Jake threw caution to the wind, gathering her up to jump the gate. She rose willingly beneath him, landing effortlessly on the tough grass and galloping up the steep slope of the fell. He leaned forward against her neck, feeling her power beneath him, trying to live in the moment and push all the memories aside. Tara’s cold eyes, the confusion in Robbie’s; his mother, warm and vibrant...and Lucy, dear little Lucy.
* * *
THE CALL CAME in just as Cass was on her way back to the surgery—as the golden, late-summer sun slipped slowly behind the dark mass of the Lakeland hills.
Her first day at the Low Fell Animal Clinic had proved to be a challenge, to say the least, and it seemed that it wasn’t over yet. She forced an image of the irate, red-faced farmer in his muck-splattered overalls, bellowing like one of his bulls, firmly to the back of her mind. “Cass here,” she responded. “What have you got for me?”
Sally’s clear voice filled Cass’s car, her tone clipped and urgent. “We have an emergency...a horse...at Jake Munro’s place. Jake usually insists on having Donald, but he’s miles away. Where are you now?”
Cass glanced around at the rugged countryside.
“I don’t really have a clue, but I’m just leaving Fell Side Farm, if that’s any help...”
“That’s great, you must be nearby. Carry on down the hill toward the village and take your first left up a narrow lane. You can’t miss it. You’ll see the sign on your right—Sky View.”
The sun finally vanished, and long, shadowy fingers fell across the road ahead. Cass headed down the hill, peering over her steering wheel. “What’s the problem, anyway?”
“Sounds like colic. The guy who rang in, Jake Munro’s dad, Bill, seems to think it’s serious.”
“Okay.” Cass blinked, trying to focus her over-stretched brain on the task ahead. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
The narrow lane crept, ribbonlike, around the steep hillside, down toward the dark, shimmering lake far below. She increased her speed as much as she dared, standing on the brakes as amber eyes glowed eerily in the road ahead and breathing a sigh of relief when a flock of sheep scattered in front of her car.
Down in the valley, lights were beginning to twinkle, bright pinpoints in the distance, homes where families were gathering after a busy day, smiling, communicating. Families! Cass felt suffocated as she thought about her own family. It seemed ages since she’d seen her parents, Tim and Molly. Her mother had rung just last night to tell her about the lump she’d found in her breast. It was benign, which was of course a huge relief, but the fact that she hadn’t even told her about it until it was all over had upset Cass.
She knew why her mum had kept quiet, of course, and it was so typical. “I didn’t want to worry you if it wasn’t really necessary,” she’d insisted.
But what if it had been necessary, Cass wondered, and she hadn’t been there to support her mother. For the last few years, all she’d thought about was her career, endlessly studying for the next exam and eventually trying to get a job. Now she had a job, a good job, so surely she should have a chance to stop and reflect, to spend time with her parents. But she was still thinking about herself and trying to get ahead. She had only just started at Low Fell Animal Clinic, but she already knew she wanted to specialize in horses.
Had she been selfish in her single-minded quest to become a vet? she asked herself, shifting down the gears. The answer sprang easily to her mind as an image of her mother’s face settled into place, her tired blue eyes filled with love and kindness. Her mother was always working and always worrying about her only child.
Yes, Cass realized with a lurch of guilt, she had been selfish, yet she knew her parents would not have had it any other way. She had arrived in the world as an afterthought, disrupting their world when they’d both turned forty. Fitting in a baby around running the busy village store her parents had bought when they were first married had been quite a feat, according to Molly. Cass had spent most of her early years in a corner near the vegetables, first in a pram and later in a playpen.
Cass’s heart twisted as she thought about her mother’s recent health scare. The diagnosis could have been serious, and she wouldn’t have known. And Cass bet her mum would have barely taken a day off work. Her parents loved running the store, though. Their customers were their friends, and there was nothing Molly and Tim liked better than to pass the time of day with them, bragging a little about how well she was doing. So at least she’d done that for them. She sighed, peering at her surroundings. At least she’d made them proud.
The sign appeared suddenly, jumping out at her from around a curve in the lane and jerking her from her reverie. Sky View Stables was boldly written in an arc above the noble head of a black horse. Cass spun the wheel and swung her hatchback down the gravel drive, suddenly apprehensive about what she might find here.
* * *
BILL MUNRO PULLED at his whiskered chin. Why did it have to be Rosie, and where the hell was Jake? He had found the little chestnut pony out in the far meadow. She was in a bad way, sweating and kicking her belly, her head covered with cuts where she’d been thrashing on the ground. He had tried to ring Jake, of course, but got no signal, so he’d called the vet before managing to persuade the reluctant pony back to the yard. He had settled her down in a deep bed of straw, but it seemed that all the fight had left her. That was what worried him most—her despondency. He’d seen the signs before, and it didn’t look good.
Car
