The Trench

Chapter 39 - Letting Go

5 days later - Christmas Day

With my eyes closed I raised my face to the sun, the cool winter air brushing lightly against my face. I could hear the leaps of a squirrel in the brush behind me, birds chirping in the tree above, the occasional snort of a horse, and the irritating sounds of the bulldozer below gutting what was left of the barn.

I open my eyes to the destruction down the hill from where I sat in the snow. My heart was heavy as I watched the equipment operators scrape charred wood and debris from the now blackened concrete pad. Half of the indoor arena still stood, the two sides and far wall was still upright. The wall connecting to the barn was gone and the roof had collapsed, leaving three red and white sides with burned edges. Everything else was a total loss.

Mary, the owner, thankfully had an old four stall barn on the other side of her house that had been retired for about ten years. Only a few minor renovations had to be made in order to be able to house the older horses temporarily. A barn about ten minutes south of here had offered some space at their facility, we had about five boarders move until the barn was back up.

My arm started itching and absentmindedly I start scratching at it, forgetting the bandages that were wrapped securely around both arms. I roll my eyes and twist and turn my arm, trying to subdue the irritating feeling until finally it goes away. Afterwards I'm still again, my legs and hind end numb from sitting in the snow. I check my phone and realize I've been up here for over an hour and a half.

I have to leave sooner or later. I think forlornly, crossing my legs in front of me and leaning back on my hands. I sigh deeply and look at the mound of earth beside me, the dark freshly dug earth covered in another blanket of snow from early this morning. I stare at it for a while as my chest tightens like I was stuck in a vise.

I lean over and brush the snow off the homemade cross nailed to the tree, Hallows name painted in white across it.

"I should have got you out first, Hallow." I say to the empty space beside me, my voice carried away with the wind.

The past week I've been in the hospital burn unit, recovering from the burns on my arms and the smoke inhalation. I asked desperately to be released, I was fine but they didn't let me leave. My parents had flown in and met us at the hospital the next day, my mother making a fuss like I had expected. I had asked them to take me to the vets office, I had begged and pleaded for someone to take me to Hallow. I couldn't eat or sleep without being beside her, Austin and Mary came by several times and gave me updates but that wasn't enough for me.

I was released from the hospital two days ago, instead of going home I demanded to be driven to Hallow who was still under the vet's careful eye. I had spent that entire day with her in her stall; grooming parts of her coat that weren't tender, giving her chopped up pieces of the cookies I made her, talking to her and being there for her. I had even stayed the night with her, propped up against the wall next to her.

The vet had told me not to get my hopes up, she was older and her body wasn't as strong as it should be. She was lethargic and under mild pain medications for her burns, she also had pneumonia from the smoke inhalation which was taking a pretty deep toll. He had suggested putting her down.

"I wouldn't believe him, I wouldn't allow it." I whispered into the air, looking out from the hill. Tears spring from my eyes as I recall yesterday morning.

Making that call was the hardest decision of my life, but knowing it would ease her pain was the only comfort I had. I went home when they buried her yesterday, I couldn't be there to see it. So in my free time I made a cross, and painted her name and brought it up last night.

I sigh, patting the earth beside me I stand up and stretch. As I start walking down to the drive, I take one glance back at the hilltop. This was her spot, she was turned out in this field every day and she always came to this hill, under this white oak tree, and stood here grazing until she was called back in. I thought it was only proper to let her stay here eternally.

As I'm trudging back down the hill through the snow I look at the barn again and I'm remembered of what Mary had told me in the hospital.

The fire chief deemed the fire suspicious.

I shake my head in bewilderment, why would anyone purposely set a barn on fire? That brings me to my next memory from the hospital, the argument I had with Austin. I blamed him for everything; I blamed him for being the last person in the loft before the fire started and I blamed him for Hallow. My heart hurts as I think of me yelling at him to leave, even though I had banned him from my hospital room he had shown up the night I spent with Hallow. He brought me a pillow and blanket, a sandwich, and he slept outside the stall in a sleeping bag so I wouldn't be alone.

He held me as I cried onto Hallows neck while she passed, he helped arrange the burial and stood out there almost all night as I placed the cross on the tree, tears staining the frozen dirt beside me.

As much as I was heartbroken and mad, as much as I wanted someone to blame, I now realize I was wrong. He didn't know any better than to open her stall, he thought he was helping in a crisis and I should appreciate that no matter what the outcome was.

I'm nearing the bottom on the hill and Austin is standing beside my truck, arms crossed waiting for me. I smile faintly at him, he's been standing there patiently waiting for almost two hours even though he thinks I'm still mad.

I walk up to him and throw my hands around his waist, burying my face in his chest. He's caught off guard for a moment but returns the hug, squeezing me tight as he kisses the top of my head. We stand there a moment, my tears dropping onto his coat, as I try and let go.

Let go of my anger, towards Austin and towards whoever caused the fire. And let go of my grief, because sulking won't bring her back.