Hopes

by Linda Chapman

  Oh, Spirit, Spirit, Spirit, she thought.

  There was a noise at the stable door and she glanced around to see Luke there. Her heart sank; she didn’t want to speak to him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a low voice.

  She nodded.

  “Do you want anything?”

  She shook her head, her throat aching with tears.

  Luke melted away into the night. Ellie rested her head against Spirit’s neck and watched as the stars outside the stable changed in the sky and the hours slowly passed.

  She finally drifted off to sleep. She woke to the sound of birds singing. Outside the stable, she could see the stars had faded and the gray light of morning was starting to lighten the sky. Spirit was stirring slightly. She stroked his neck, feeling her own leg muscles protesting at having been curled up all night. It was almost a new day. Soon, the house door would open and Luke would come out, then the grooms would arrive and then…then she would have to call John.

  She paused, expecting to feel the crashing weight of grief she had felt the night before, but it didn’t come. She felt numb, like a steel barrier had gone up in her brain, separating her feelings from her thoughts.

  She lay there until her watch said six thirty and then, with a feeling of unreal calmness settling over her, she stood up. Spirit put his front legs out and struggled to his feet too.

  Maybe this will be the last time I’ll ever see him stand up in his stable again after lying down…

  No. She slammed the thought away. She gave him a kiss. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Leaving the stable, she went to the house. Luke was in the kitchen, putting the kettle on. She wondered if he would ask why she had stayed in the stable, but he didn’t. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please. I’m just going to take a shower.”

  When she came down, Luke had gone outside. There was a cup of coffee and a plate of toast waiting for her. Ellie bit off a mouthful, but she couldn’t swallow it and ended up throwing the rest away.

  She joined Luke in the feedroom. “So?” he said, as she started to mechanically put out the buckets.

  “I’m going to call John this morning.”

  Luke nodded. “It’s the right thing.”

  Ellie could tell he was looking at her but she concentrated on the feeds. Luke didn’t ask any more but as he passed by, he squeezed her arm.

  At eight o’clock, Ellie went to the office and rang John at the surgery.

  “It’s time,” she managed to say. “Can you come today?”

  To her relief, she didn’t need to explain. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll come over about ten.”

  “Can you…can you not shoot him but use an injection?” From being with her dad, Ellie knew that most vets preferred to shoot horses with a humane killer when they were putting them down. But she couldn’t bear it. She knew she couldn’t stand still and watch Spirit being shot. It was only a few months since she had watched John shoot Merlin. She knew she couldn’t stand there and watch Spirit being shot too.

  “All right,” said John. He sighed. “You’re doing the right thing, lass.”

  Ellie swallowed, pain threatening to break through the numbness for a moment. Why did everyone keep saying that she was doing the right thing when it certainly didn’t feel right? It just felt so very, very wrong.

  She put the phone down. Luke came to the doorway. “Is John coming then?”

  “Yes, at ten. Luke…” Ellie swallowed. There was something looming in her mind. She kept thinking about Merlin, about how the hunt kennels had come to take his body away to feed to the hounds. She still remembered hearing the huntsman driving the tractor and trailer across the field to collect him. “Afterwards, when it’s over…” She couldn’t say it, but she saw the understanding dawn on Luke’s face.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with that.”

  “Not the hunt.”

  “No. Not the hunt.” He looked at her. “You go and see Spirit. Don’t worry about that side of things.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Go on,” he said. “Go.”

  Ellie fetched Spirit’s grooming kit and groomed him until his coat was sleek and his mane and tail hanging in silky strands. She oiled his hooves and cleaned his eyes and nose. It was as if by doing the normal things she could almost fool herself that what was about to happen wasn’t real. He stood without being tied up, watching her all the time. Outside the stable, Ellie heard the sound of a tractor. She vaguely wondered about it because usually only her uncle drove the tractor, but she quickly tuned out the noise to concentrate on Spirit.

  As Ellie finished his face, she gazed at him, wanting to imprint him on her mind. She wanted to remember every single thing about him—the prick of his ears, the curve of his nostrils, the softness of the center of his muzzle where she liked to kiss him. She wanted to fix it all forever in her mind.

  Was this really going to be the last time she groomed him? She tried to imagine waking up the next morning without him being there, but it was impossible. It couldn’t be. Life couldn’t happen like that.

  At ten o’clock, John appeared in the stable doorway with Luke. Ellie’s heart seemed to miss a beat.

  John gave her a compassionate look. “Are you ready, lass?”

  Ellie couldn’t reply. She was fighting the urge to jump on Spirit’s back and gallop him away, take him far, far away. Sensing her distress, Spirit nuzzled her.

  Luke took charge. “You’ll need to bring him out into the empty field. John will do it there.”

  Ellie put her hand on Spirit’s neck and walked him to the door. She moved automatically, her feet feeling clumsy, her hands fumbling with his leadrope. The three of them and Spirit went out of the stable and into the fields. They walked up a slope to a quiet empty field. It backed on to the woods that covered the mountain around the stables.

  “This seemed like a good spot,” said Luke. “A private spot.” Ellie saw the mound of fresh brown earth lying on the lush grass halfway up the slope and realized Luke had dug a grave for Spirit. “We can bury him here.”

  Ellie was taken aback. She didn’t know quite what she’d expected Luke to do with Spirit’s body after John had put him to sleep, but she certainly hadn’t imagined he would dig a grave. “What will Uncle Len say?” she faltered.

  “Leave that to me,” Luke told her. “I’ll deal with that when he gets back.”

  Ellie looked around the field. It was the perfect place, with gray stone walls and trees around and a feeling of peace and quiet. In the blue sky above them a kestrel soared. Her eyes fell on the hole—Spirit’s grave. For a moment, she felt the world spin.

  Luke put his hand on her shoulder, anchoring her, grounding her.

  “If you can get Spirit to stand alongside it, that would be grand,” said John.

  Hardly aware of what she was doing, Ellie led Spirit over to the grave. He followed her trustingly, walking slowly. Only a month ago, he had been trotting and cantering around. Luke and John stood back for a few moments as she rested her forehead against Spirit’s. She didn’t care they were there; she opened her mind to his. Spirit?

  Yes.

  I love you.

  She felt the waves of love come back from him, tinged with tiredness and pain but a love as certain as ever.

  The barrier in her mind was cracking and anguish starting to flood through her as she felt reality closing in. This was really going to happen. They were going to put Spirit down. Every cell in her body wanted to hang on to him, to not let him go. Putting her arms around his neck, she felt his solid warmth. I can’t bear this, Spirit, she thought desperately. I just can’t. It’s too hard.

  Look for me. I’ll be there.

  Luke stepped forward. “Ellie?”

  John joined him. “Are you ready?”

  Ellie nodded dumbly, her heart breaking.

  John opened his bag and got a syringe ready while Ellie stroked Spirit’s face over and over again. He stood with his nose pressed agains
t her. She could feel his absolute trust. After her parents had died, she had wished and wished that she could see them one more time just to say goodbye, but now she realized that being able to say goodbye didn’t make parting any easier.

  Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me, she pleaded to him in her head.

  John placed his hand on Spirit’s neck. “Here we go.”

  Almost before Ellie realized what was happening, John had started the injection, slowly releasing the deadly fluid into Spirit’s veins—the drug that would stop his heart. She saw Spirit’s ears flicker, felt his head start to sink. His eyes closed and he swayed slightly, his legs starting to buckle. John stood back. “He might go down quick,” he warned.

  As he spoke, Spirit’s legs crumpled and he collapsed to the ground, falling on to his side. Ellie flung herself down beside him, cradling his head. Spirit, she thought over and over again.

  Her horse, the horse who had taught her so much, who had loved her with his whole enormous heart…

  She stroked his cheek, his nose, his forehead.

  “Ellie, he’s gone.” John’s deep voice broke into her thoughts. She looked up at him. What did he mean? Spirit was still there. She looked down and saw that Spirit’s ears were still, his eyes open and not blinking, his nostrils unmoving. Focusing now she felt the absolute absence of energy. He was dead.

  No! In that moment, horror overwhelmed her. What had she done? She’d changed her mind. She wanted him back. It was too soon for him to go. She wasn’t ready to be without him. She started to stroke him again. “Spirit!” she begged. “Come back!”

  Luke crouched down beside her. “It’s over, Ellie.”

  “No…” she started to shake her head. “No!”

  Luke’s arms pulled her close. She stared at him with shocked, wide eyes. He stroked her hair as John held the stethoscope to Spirit’s chest, checking that his heart had stopped. The vet gave a brief nod and then Ellie felt herself start to shake—a dreadful, uncontrollable trembling as a tidal wave of grief engulfed her.

  She couldn’t bear it. “Bring him back!” she sobbed into Luke’s chest. “I want him back!” It didn’t feel long since she had been crying like this for her mom and dad. The old grief and the new mixed together, intense, overwhelming.

  Luke held her tight and let her cry, his strong arms folded around her.

  Chapter Nine

  WHEN ELLIE’S TEARS finally dried, Luke took her back to the house. John was already there, talking to Helen. They fell quiet as Ellie came in. She sat down silently at the table.

  John glanced at Luke. “Shall I give you a hand?”

  With a cold shock, Ellie realized he meant with burying Spirit’s body.

  Luke looked at her. “Do you want to be there?” She shook her head. Spirit was gone. She didn’t need to see him being buried.

  “Thanks,” Luke said to John.

  They left Ellie with Helen. “Shall I make you a cup of tea?” Helen asked sympathetically.

  “No, thanks. I’m… I’m going upstairs for a while.” Ellie spoke flatly, her voice sounding like a robot’s.

  “Sure. I’ll be down here if you want me. I’m really sorry, Ellie. We all are.”

  Ellie pulled off her boots and walked up the stairs.

  Reaching her room, she lay down on the bed, curling her knees up to her chest, hugging herself into the tightest ball possible. She felt as though there was a great gaping hole in her, a hole that would never be filled again. Tears started to seep down her cheeks as she thought about Spirit, picturing him, imagining life without him. The pain battered through her.

  She sobbed until her head hurt with crying. Afterwards, she lay there numbly, getting her breath back, noticing the quiet and stillness of the room. She began to think about Spirit again, remembering his whinny, knowing she would never hear it again, never feel his breath on her hands. Within minutes, fresh tears had started.

  Eventually, Ellie exhausted herself and fell into a fitful sleep. She woke up when Luke came into her room to check on her. Sitting up, she stared at him in a daze.

  Not bothering to ask if he could come in, he came over and sat down on the bed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry you had to feel it. I know how tough it is.”

  Anger flared up inside her, fueled by grief. She knew it was unfair, but she felt the overwhelming need to lash out at someone. “You don’t know! How can you?” she cried.

  “I do know. Two of my ponies had to be put down.”

  “Maggie?” said Ellie, remembering that Luke had once told her about his first pony, Maggie—how she had twisted a gut when she had colic.

  “Yes. Then after Maggie I got Sparks and after Sparks, Bella. She was a show jumping pony, a total lunatic in the ring, but I loved her. We were doing really well together but one day the groom turned her out into a different field, one that our neighbor had rented out to us, and when I went to fetch her I found that she was trembling and having fits. She’d been poisoned.”

  “How?” whispered Ellie, distracted for a moment from her own grief.

  Luke’s face was shadowed. “It was just one of those fluke things that sometimes happen with horses. She’d found some cowbane and eaten it. The groom should have checked the field out, but he hadn’t. Cowbane’s deadly. Sometimes horses get better after a few days, but Bella didn’t. She’d eaten too much of it; the fits got worse. She was in so much pain. Mom and Dad were away as usual and I had to make the decision to put her down.” He shook his head, lost in his memories. “I could have kept her alive for a week longer but I had to do what was best for her.”

  Ellie didn’t speak. She realized there was so much she still didn’t know about Luke.

  Luke’s eyes met hers. “I know it won’t feel like it now, but you made the right choice,” he said gently.

  “You stopped him from having to suffer any more. Sometimes that’s all we can do.”

  Ellie turned away. It might have been the right choice, but knowing that didn’t help the despair inside.

  Luke squeezed her shoulder. “Come down when you’re ready. But don’t worry about the yard—we can manage without you today.”

  She held the tears in until he left. Then burying her head in her hands she cried.

  Look for me and I’ll be there.

  She heard the echo of Spirit’s voice so clearly it was almost as though he was really talking to her.

  But you’re not! she thought. Oh, Spirit, you’re not! Her sobs wracked through her. She just wanted him back.

  Ellie didn’t come out of her bedroom until the afternoon. She felt almost as if all the crying had anesthetized her. She walked on to the yard. Looking at the usual things going on—horses being groomed, ridden, the yards being swept—Ellie felt a wave of disbelief. It was almost impossible to her that everything could be going on as normal when Spirit was dead. The world should have stopped. She felt a sudden longing for Joe. Luke had been great but she wanted Joe there too, wanted his sympathy, his companionship.

  Bracing herself, Ellie walked down to Spirit’s stable. It was just as it had been when he had left it that morning. The fleece rug was thrown over his manger. Automatically, Ellie refolded it and made it look neat. Then she took his untouched haynet down.

  Closing her eyes, she fought for control. The air of the stable seemed to smell of him. She breathed it in. She could almost imagine that she would open her eyes and see him standing there.

  She stood there for a long moment before she opened her eyes and looked around the empty stable. Fighting back the tears that suddenly prickled again, she picked up the rug and left.

  When the horsebox came driving down the lane later that afternoon, Luke told Ellie to go inside. “I’ll deal with Len.”

  “No.” Ellie had a feeling that Luke was going to be in real trouble for digging the grave in the field. “I’m not letting you face him on your own.”

  “And I’m not letting you stay. You don’t need to hear this conversation.�
� Luke steered her to the house. “Please. Go inside. You’re upset. You’re not in a fit state for a fight with Len. Go.”

  Ellie hesitated, unused to letting herself be bossed around. But something deep down told her Luke was right. She was at the limits of her strength—she could not face her uncle right then. She looked into Luke’s blue eyes and knew he’d be OK. “Thanks.”

  Luke smiled at her capitulation, one of his first smiles of the day. “I’ll come and find you when the worst is over.”

  Ellie slipped up to her room. Sitting on her window seat, she watched as Len arrived back, saw his face as Luke told him the news—a brief nod as he told him about Spirit, a look of incredulity and anger as Luke told him about digging Spirit’s grave.

  Ellie could hear her uncle’s bellow from all the way up in her bedroom. He let out a stream of swear words.

  Luke stood unbothered as Len ranted and raged at him. He simply stood there with his arms folded, taking it.

  Ellie didn’t want to hear any more. She left the window seat and went to the bed. Lying down, she stared at the white painted ceiling. The pain came bowling back. Spirit was dead. However much Len raged about it, Spirit’s body was now lying in the grave Luke had dug, the fresh soil dark and brown against the green of the grass. Her life would never be the same. Ellie turned on to her side and felt the sobs start all over again.

  For the next few days, Ellie walked around in a daze. Nothing really seemed to touch her. She did all the jobs she had to do, went to school and rode the horses, but all she wanted was just to get through each day, living for the moments when she could be alone and properly think about Spirit. Waking up each morning was awful. Ellie would blink her eyes open, feeling sick inside, as the realization of what had happened crashed over her. She would pull the covers over her head, unable to face the thought of another day without Spirit. But she had to. She couldn’t stay in bed; she had to get up, carry on.

  She spoke to Joe on the phone and told him what had happened. “Oh, Els. I’m sorry,” he said in dismay.