Hidden Memories

Part three

A few weeks later, while I played with my recovering Bear in the sunny pasture, Kelly shouted from the gate, “Chris!  Will you come here a second?”  Reluctantly I left Bear’s side and silently strode to the gate.  Bear followed a few steps behind.  I propped my leather clad foot on the bottom rail of the immaculate white fence and crossed my arms over the top, while I waited for Kelly to speak.  Although extremely sore from riding every day, I could feel my strength slowing returning.  She cleared her throat and she looked as if what she prepared to say proved painful.  “Mark and I thought it appropriate to tell you about our daughter.” She weakly illuminated.  I waited for her to explain.  “We lost her 8 years ago to a riding accident.  She and her horse understood each other; they had a unique and unbreakable bond.  Mark and I used to joke that God had talented her as a horse-whisperer.  One day, my daughter and her horse were in the show ring.  They were jumping against the clock, and doing great, but at the last jump, her horse’s legs tangled on the top bar, and he flipped over the jump and landed on her.  He crushed her skull.  She instantly died.”  She quickly swiped at her eyes, and continued.  “After our tragic loss, we sold our cottage house, and our daughter’s horse, and moved here to Florida.”  She raised her eyes from studying the ground to look into mine.  They were filled with pain, and loss.  I turned away.  After several minutes of silence, I shifted my eyes to meet hers and revealed, “I know what it’s like to have losses too.  My dad abandoned my mother after figuring out the pregnancy test returned positive and by the time I turned twelve, God took my mother to heaven.  I feel your pain.”  Kelly nodded her head as tears slipped from the corners of her blue eyes.  Her already slight frame appeared withered and exhausted.  I wasn’t used to seeing her like this.  Silently she thanked me, turned and walked down the gravel road to the barn.  My thoughts lingered on her shocking announcement.

As I retrieved Bear from his stall the early the next morning, Kelly hailed me with a cheerful good morning.  She showed no awkwardness from yesterday’s conversation, and her face appeared bright and jovial as usual.  I noticed a spring in her step as she walked over, and she quickly asked, “Would you like to start training Bear tomorrow?”  I smiled, and asked, “Are you sure we are ready?”  She mock rolled her eyes and sighed teasingly.  “Of course you are ready.  Eight tomorrow morning, okay?”  I tried to hide my grin as I nodded my approval.  I would not let her think I was some immature, silly girl that giggled over everything.  I mentally made a check-list of all the things I would need to do before morning.