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His words are matter-of-fact. No pity or devastation. Caleb is good in a crisis. He’s reliable and steady, always there when I need him.
“No.” I don’t have to think about my answer before speaking.
I want to remember Gramps smiling down at me from the porch before I left for Colt’s birthday party. Telling me he’s proud of me.
Not cold and still and no longer breathing.
My gaze is still aimed at the ground, but I hear Caleb stand to tell the ambulance to leave with Gramps’s body.
Tires roll aways a few minutes later. I don’t move, trying to reconcile what my life will look like with such a central component of it missing for good.
There’s a distant whinny a few minutes later, and that’s what finally sends a jolt of direction through me.
Gramps wasn’t the only one here who relied on me.
I raise my head, taking in the surroundings. The front yard looks normal, and it’s worse than having the emergency vehicles out front as a beacon of bad news. The stretch of grass that’s more weeds than blades looks the same as always. As it did when Gramps was about to walk out of the barn or drive up in his old truck.
Colt’s SUV is still here, closer to the barn than it was when I climbed out of it. He must have moved it to let the other vehicles leave. Colt is leaning against the driver’s side door, talking intently with Caleb.
They both glance over as I stand and walk toward the barn. Colt’s expression is somber. I don’t look at Caleb. I’m worried I won’t be able to keep it together if I do.
I know this must be hitting him hard. Not only were he and Gramps close, but I’m sure it’s occurred to him by now this means he’s all I have left.
I head straight into the tack room, grabbing halters from the row of hooks just inside the door. Impatient hooves clang against wood panels as the horses realize someone is finally paying attention to them.
Her stall is furthest, but I walk to Dusty’s first. She nuzzles me as soon as the door is open. I’m tempted to bury my face in her mane and cry. But if I let myself fall apart right now, I won’t be able to pull myself back together for a while.
I slip Dusty’s halter on and lead her out into the aisle, pausing to put Stormy’s halter on her as well. Stormy tosses her head, making her displeasure about being cooped up all morning known. She is blissfully unaware of how badly I wish Gramps had woken up this morning to let her out.
I’m struggling to buckle her halter in place when I hear Caleb’s voice. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” There’s a bite to the words that I don’t mean to include but can’t seem to curb. Shock is ebbing away, leaving behind a whole host of ugly feelings swirling inside of me like a tornado.
“You don’t have to. I can…”
“It’s fine.”
I tug at the lead lines, and the two mares follow me eagerly. Past Caleb, who’s watching me with a concerned expression that’s probably merited but only annoys me more. Past Colt, who obviously just heard me snap at Caleb and is now looking at me like I’m a bomb that might detonate. Past the skid marks that tell me the ambulance arrived too late.
It takes me an hour to let all the horses out and muck out their stalls. I can hear the quiet murmur of Colt and Caleb’s voices outside the barn as I work, but I can’t distinguish anything they’re saying.
Probably for the best. I’m sure they’re talking about things I’m not ready to think about yet. Decisions will have to be made. Arrangements too.
When I emerge from the barn, they’re still standing next to Colt’s SUV.
“I’m so sorry, Lennon,” Colt says as soon as I appear.
“Thanks.” I give him a small smile, then keep walking.
Up the porch stairs, through the front door, past the kitchen, up the stairs to the second floor, and down the hall to my room. I don’t stop until I reach the twin bed tucked beneath the eaves.
I collapse on top of my comforter, not caring I’m in clothes that are damp with sweat and smell like manure. I lie face down, inhaling the familiar scent of laundry detergent and cotton.
Quiet footsteps sound on the stairs, drawing closer and closer to my bedroom. I flip over onto my back to watch Caleb cross the room and stop beside the bed. He’s pale beneath his tan, eyes worried and jaw clenched tight.
I scootch over, until the cool drywall is pressed against my arm. Caleb takes the silent invitation, lying down beside me. The bed is way too small for both of us. It’s barely big enough for me.
“Steve Fisher came over around eight to drop a program for this weekend’s races. He noticed the horses hadn’t been turned out, so he came inside to check on Earl. Found him on the couch and called nine-one-one. They think it was a stroke. It was…quick.” His voice wavers a little, but I don’t react. “After the autopsy, they’ll transport him to the funeral home. You’ll have to decide about the burial then. Steve had to leave to take his granddaughter to school. He asked Chief Everett to pass along his condolences and to let him know if he could help with anything.”
