Lauren attempted to reassure Kim and Sarah with a smile, but the pain was so raw. She still felt disoriented, like her life was happening at a slower pace than the rest of the world. She would fall into bed exhausted, but night after night, sleep would elude her. She knew Rick was getting worried about her.
“Let it all out,” he would say, encouraging her to talk. But she feared that if she let it all out, she could never rein it back in. She only allowed herself to cry when she was in the shower, the stream of hot water minimizing her constant headache, and the sound muffling her sobs from her girls.
How much longer do I have to endure this pain? A few friends who had never been able to understand her relationship with Speckles would remind her that Speckles was just a horse. As if that were somehow supposed to be helpful. They had no idea what they were talking about. Speckles was not just anything. He was a horse, yes, but he had been so much more. He had been her support system, her mirror, her . . . It was still hard to process all that he had been to her.
“We’ll stay close by in case you need us,” Kim said with concern.
After getting Joey’s halter from the tack shed, Lauren entered his paddock, not theirs. It was still hard not to call out for the “boys.” Would it ever feel normal to see Joey standing alone, without his counterpart close by? Probably not. She fastened the halter around his head and held the lead rope just under his chin, pulling slightly to get him to move. He wouldn’t budge. Maybe he simply couldn’t.
“Joey, would you like to get out of here for a little while?” she asked, flatly. “We can just take a little walk.”
She gently pulled again. The horse had no interest in following her, and she suddenly realized that she didn’t have the strength to keep trying. She was exhausted and everything hurt. Her outside hurt today just as much as her inside. Every joint was on fire, and a migraine was ramping up. Lauren took Joey’s halter off, kissed his neck, and left him standing right where she had found him. Maybe he just needed more time.
What are we going to do with him? Kim lamented in her mind, watching the dejection in Lauren’s body language. Her shoulders slumped as she exited the paddock. Kim worried about both the horse and her volunteer.
It was clear Joey was not in a good place. Kim knew that horses grieved, but she had never witnessed it up close like this before. Certainly never to this degree. She and her team had discussed putting a new pasture-mate in with him, but he just wasn’t ready for that, and neither were any of their other horses.
Finding a new companion for Joey was going to be tricky. He was needy, and he was different. Would any of their other horses get that? Would they be able to understand him like Speckles had?
Lauren silently walked past Kim, averting her eyes. Joey let out a soft whinny. Kim felt like a weight was pressing down on her. How could she help these two? She felt so powerless. So clueless. So . . . blind.
Over the past few days, volunteers, staff, and even some of the children had expressed concerns about Joey. They were all depending on Kim to help him. But she had no idea how.
Lauren and Sarah approached Kim.
“I guess you saw how well that went,” Lauren said.
“It’s okay,” Kim replied, trying to reassure her. “Let’s give him another week or so. We’ll figure this out.”
Two weeks passed with no real change. Joey continued to stand in the middle of his field, not grazing, not walking—just standing. It was as if he wanted to disappear, as if he wanted the ground to swallow him up.
Sarah and Kim visited him every day, trying to coax him to eat, to drink, to engage in some way. Nothing came easily with him anymore. Tasks he used to do with ease—being led from his field, being groomed, walking around the arena—now seemed to take every ounce of energy he possessed. It was true for everyone caring for him too.
“Come on, big guy. You have to eat something,” Sarah pleaded, waving a handful of hay under his nose. He took a few stalks, but even those were dropped.
“Oh, Joey, what do you need from us?” Sarah asked, wishing more than anything that this special horse could talk to her.
Instead, Joey turned around, facing away from Sarah. He had shut her out. She knew the posture well because she had used it herself on several occasions. Joey’s ears continued to shift and rotate, always listening, always on alert for the sound he longed to hear more than any other.
“Sarah?” a young voice called out to her from outside the fence. Sarah recognized a little girl named Amy; she and Joey had met a little over a month ago during a session. “Can Joey play with me today?”
Amy’s mother was talking with Barb. Sarah looked at Joey, who was still turned away, then walked over to the fence.
“I’m sorry, but Joey can’t play today. He’s just not feeling up to it.”
“Why?” the girl asked, sadness furrowing her brow.
Sarah didn’t know what to say, how much to say.
“Well . . .” She took a deep breath. “He . . .”
Barb quietly came up and wrapped her arm around Amy’s shoulders.
“Hi, Amy. Are you ready to go get a horse?”
“I want Joey,” Amy said, her bottom lip jutting out slightly.
Barb pulled the girl in close, whispered something in her ear, and led her toward Shiloh’s paddock.
Sarah watched as Amy looked back at Joey. When would Joey be able to return to sessions? Would he ever be able to? He had already suffered so much loss in his life. Was this most recent loss going to be too much for him to endure?
Another question began tugging at her mind, one she couldn’t allow herself to fully process: What if Joey can’t be used in sessions anymore? What will happen to him? Will they still keep him? She instantly shook the thought away. Of course they would keep him. He was Joey. He was family, and they would see him through this.
A spark of urgency began to flame inside her. They had to help him through this. But how?
Sarah was in the tack shed taking inventory later that afternoon when Lauren walked by. She called out to her, but Lauren didn’t hear. Or had she? It had been at least a week since Sarah had seen her at the ranch.
Lauren’s extended absence had not gone unnoticed. Kim hadn’t been able to reach the dedicated volunteer on the phone or by e-mail.
Sarah watched Lauren walk intently to Joey’s paddock. Lauren’s body language mirrored Joey’s. Both of them held their heads low, both looked at the ground, both appeared so broken.
Why am I here? Lauren wondered, stepping into the paddock. What had possessed her to come? Surely this was the last place she needed to be. I should leave. The gate slammed closed behind her.
Joey looked so lost and incomplete. It was weird, but Lauren found herself jealous of Joey. How she longed to just stand and grieve. Cry for the horse she missed so much. Cry for herself and the never-ending pain that plagued her heart and body.
But she couldn’t shut down. She had two daughters and a husband who needed her. She had responsibilities at home. She had to keep moving, keep working, keep going. Day after day she forced herself to complete each task, each chore, not allowing herself to think about Speckles. She had even asked for subs to fill in for her on the feeding team. There were so many reminders everywhere on the ranch, making it too hard to shove the pain down.
She needed to function, and so she stayed away for a week. She busied herself. She scrubbed every room in her house and threw herself into homeschooling. She trained her dogs and made plans for a garden. Her every waking hour was filled with business. But then night would fall. Night was awful. Dreams, images, and scenes flashed through her subconscious. She had no control over her thoughts. Her mind became a looping reel of memories, some painful, many beautiful, all resulting in a tearstained pillow. Rick held her night after night.
“You should go back,” he would whisper in the darkness.
A part of her knew Rick was right, but how could she face Joey again? She had all but abandoned him the week after S
peckles died. Yet as each day passed, she felt a pull to go back. She wanted to see Joey again, to let him know that he hadn’t lost her, too.
And so this afternoon after Rick had gotten home from work, she put on her muck boots, grabbed her keys, and headed to the ranch. Once she arrived, she walked from the parking lot to paddock two on autopilot. She thought she heard Sarah call out to her, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t talk. She had to keep moving forward, or she would turn around and run back.
She now stood beside Joey, the horse who had loved Speckles as much as she had, maybe even more. A gentle breeze played with her hair. She turned her face into it. The memory of Speckles with the side mirror hanging from his mouth suddenly came back. She was chasing after him, laughing as he proudly displayed his plunder to Joey. A single tear slipped from one eye. And then another.
Soon her tears fell in streams down her burning cheeks. A sob escaped her mouth. Her body shook as her carefully constructed emotional wall began to crumble. She hugged her stomach, pushing against the hollow pain that threatened to swallow her. Her mouth hung open, but now no sound emerged. Her silent cries shook her shoulders. God, how long will this last? She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to shut out the memories, the grief.
She nearly jumped when something bumped her shoulder. She spun around to see Joey’s face inches from her own. How long have you been there? Lauren didn’t move. What are you doing? She turned away from him, listening. She could hear him breathing. Could almost feel his whiskers on her neck. Joey lowered his head onto her shoulder. She felt the pressure of his lower jaw. The pressure grew in intensity. His head grew heavier and heavier, and his breathing slowed. Was he asleep? A long sigh escaped his nostrils, his air brushing against her neck. Something in her steadied, stilled, and her sobs subsided.
You need me. And I need you. She leaned her head back slightly. Joey sighed again, his head nuzzling into her neck. She would stand here as long as he wanted.
“I know, Joe-Joe,” she whispered. “I know how much you miss him.” She stroked his muzzle. “I miss him too.”
Kim found Sarah leaning against the tack shed, her eyes riveted to something in the distance. She followed Sarah’s gaze to Joey’s field, where he and Lauren stood together. Together Kim and Sarah watched the tender scene—two broken souls finding comfort in each other. Kim knew they were observing something powerfully personal, private, and reverent.
Day after day Lauren and Joey would spend time grieving together. Lauren had thought she was going into Joey’s paddock that first day to offer him some solace. It never occurred to her that he was going to help her begin to heal, that they would form their own support group.
During that initial bonding when Joey had laid his head on her shoulder and let out that long, shaky sigh, something had shifted inside her. Moments earlier, she had been standing alone in her grief, her thoughts, and her memories. Then, suddenly, Speckles’ friend was standing with her. Understanding her in a way no one else possibly could. Joey got it, Joey felt it, and Joey was there. Lauren had gone into the paddock terrified of confronting her pain and had left knowing she didn’t have to confront it alone.
Joey’s consistent presence reminded her of someone else who had always stood with her. The person who knew her pain, who waited with arms open wide to help her bear it. She had been a Christian for a little while now. She knew Jesus loved her—was delighted by that love—believed that he had died to give her eternal life and risen to give her victory over sin, but she had never really understood the day-to-day relationship she could have with him. What did that look like, feel like? The closeness she could feel to a God she couldn’t see. The assurance that she was never alone.
But the moment Joey pressed his head down on her shoulder, a verse had come to her mind. Jesus was praying for the crowds who had gathered to hear him, urging them to take his yoke upon them because it was easy to bear. Jesus promised “rest for their souls.” I need that, God.
As she reflected, a soothing, calming warmth infused her heart. A few minutes later, her breathing had returned to normal and her tears had dried. The pain of loss was still present like a shawl hanging loosely across her shoulders. But it was no longer choking her. It was that awareness that compelled her to go to the ranch every following day.
Some days she spent hours with Joey, others just a few minutes. Sometimes she brought her daughters; other times she needed to come alone. By the second week, Joey would meet her at the gate, follow her to the back of the paddock, and graze. Lauren kept a hand on him at all times, a physical connection to something bigger and unseen.
After grazing for a while, Joey would nuzzle into her chest and then fall asleep—every single time she came. It was as if he had been exhausted from his grief, from his vigil for Speckles. Lauren helped carry his grief so he could rest. And in his rest—in their rest—Lauren prayed that they would one day begin to heal.
CHAPTER 17
“I THINK IT’S TIME,” Kim said to Sarah, Lauren, and Barb one day in mid-April.
“Are you sure he’s ready?” Barb asked.
Lauren answered with confidence. “He is.”
“Well then,” Sarah said, imitating a game show host, “let the search begin!”
Joey, although still a bit dejected and withdrawn, was at least acting well enough for the staff to begin introducing him to new potential pasture-mates. No one expected him to bond with another horse the way he had with Speckles, but Joey needed companionship. With his limitations, Joey depended on his pasture-mate for guidance.
But which of their horses was up for the job? Horses have personal space bubbles, and they communicate visually—the slightest tightening of a lip communicates volumes. Joey had no bubble, and he had a hard time sensing where other horses’ bubbles were. Obviously, he could not read visual cues, which put him at risk. Other horses might see his differences as threats or misinterpret his limitations as confrontational or, worse, as a weakness. Yes, it was going to take a special horse with a unique temperament to share a paddock with Joey. There were ten possibilities.
Trying to lighten the mood after so many difficult weeks, Sarah suggested they treat the search like their own equine version of The Bachelor.
“We could have Joey give the winner a carrot instead of a rose,” she joked.
The women chuckled, although all of them knew this was not reality TV. There would be real consequences if they put the wrong horse in with Joey. However, if they were ever going to figure it out, they had to get started.
Shiloh was the first choice. Her smaller size and mild temperament made her a favorite with the children. That was definitely something she and Joey had in common.
Since the two horses had been neighbors, sharing a fence for the past year, the team felt fairly confident that this could be a good match. After all, Shiloh had never taken issue with Joey in the past. Sarah led Shiloh into the new field, while Lauren held Joey on a lead rope. The plan was to introduce the two under close supervision so they could intervene if necessary. Joey’s ears perked up at the sound of hooves. His head bobbed in anticipation, then stopped, listening and waiting.
Shiloh sniffed the air, then the ground, stomping in curiosity. Sarah allowed her to leisurely walk in Joey’s direction. They would not force either one of the horses. This was just a trial visit.
The moment of reckoning finally came. Shiloh stepped within Joey’s reach, and he stretched his head out. She sniffed, snorted—and nipped! Joey jerked his head back. Shiloh’s lips were tight and her ears were back.
“It’s okay, Shiloh,” Sarah said soothingly. “Joey’s your friend. Just give him a chance.”
Shiloh seemed unimpressed with Sarah’s pep talk. Joey approached her again. This time her teeth made contact. Joey reared back, turned away from Shiloh, and faced Lauren. That proved to be a mistake. Shiloh lunged forward, biting him on the rump.
“Girlfriend,” Sarah said, navigating Shiloh away from Joey, “that is no way to earn a carrot
from Joey!”
This match did not look promising. But after twenty minutes, Shiloh had not attempted to bite Joey again. Maybe there was hope after all. Sarah and Lauren unfastened the horses’ halters and left the mare and gelding on their own while they went about their other tasks and duties within sight of paddock two. There was an occasional nip, an occasional whinny, but for the most part it seemed the occupants were getting along reasonably well.
Lauren left to pick up her girls when the evening volunteers began arriving. Sarah informed the team of the change in Shiloh’s location and then watched closely as the others delivered hay to paddock two.
As Joey and Shiloh approached the hay box from different sides, Joey inadvertently moved his head into Shiloh’s space. She reared up, bit, and whinnied. Joey stepped back, but Shiloh wasn’t finished. She refused to let Joey anywhere near the hay box. Even after she was done eating, she continued to hound him and force him away.
The sight of sweet Shiloh bullying Joey was more than Sarah could handle. Joey had been through enough. Sarah moved Shiloh back into her original field. While the mare may have calmed down over time, Sarah wasn’t willing to risk Joey’s well-being on a maybe.
If Sarah hadn’t known any better, she could have sworn that Joey was relieved when she led Shiloh out of the paddock. He was lonely, but obviously he wasn’t that lonely!
“I agree, bud. No carrot for this one.”
The next months brought a parade of candidates through Joey’s paddock. Jesse and Essie, two other neighboring mares, were brought in one at a time. Neither lasted long, each reacting like Shiloh had. Gabe, the former party pony, also spent a short period of time with Joey, but the small gelding perceived Joey as a threat. Gabe repeatedly rammed his head into Joey and snapped his teeth in warning.
Joey was being a trouper about the disastrous pairings, but Kim and the others worried that the stress was taking a toll. Thankfully, Lauren continued to console him each day.
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