The Place I Belong

by Nancy Herkness

  Hannah pulled out her stethoscope again, more to give Matt some reassurance that she was paying attention than anything else. Satch’s vital signs were unimproved. She sighed and folded the scope back into her pocket. “Your dad’s fixing something delicious to tempt Satchmo to eat. He didn’t think much of my feeble efforts at horse cuisine.”

  “What does he know about horses’ tastes?” Matt scoffed. “He cooks for people.”

  “I guess it’s the same principle,” Hannah said, settling herself into a more comfortable position on the straw beside the pony. “It should look good, smell good, and taste good. Do you think your father will actually taste it?” She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

  That got a snort of laughter from Matt, and Satchmo’s leg twitched. The boy looked at Hannah hopefully. “He moved!”

  “I guess he thinks your dad eating horse food is funny too.”

  “Maybe we should talk normally instead of being quiet,” Matt said.

  “Not a bad idea. A little liveliness might cheer Satch up. You go first.”

  Matt thought for a moment before he asked, “What sort of stuff goes into horse food?”

  “All kinds of natural things. Oats, barley, molasses, dried grasses, apples, carrots.”

  “You hear that, Satch?” Matt said, bending over to speak into the pony’s ear. “Your favorite munchies. Mmm.” He smacked his lips for emphasis.

  “You sound like a mother trying to get her baby to eat.” Hannah was amused.

  Matt grinned. “Yeah, but it must work because mothers all do the same thing.”

  His smile made her blink because it looked so much like Adam’s, with the dimple and the crinkle at the corners of the eyes. The cleft in Matt’s chin was softened by traces of youthful chubbiness but it would stand out like his father’s soon. She realized Matt didn’t smile much, which is why it still surprised her when she saw the startling resemblance.

  The stall door creaked open and Matt’s face went blank as Adam slipped in with the bowl in the crook of his arm. “I tweaked Dr. Linden’s recipe somewhat, so let’s see what Satchmo thinks.” He walked over to Matt and set the bowl down beside him in the straw. “He’s more likely to take it from you than anyone else.”

  The boy threw his father an unreadable glance before he reached into the bowl and drew out a perfectly formed ball flecked with bright-orange bits of carrot and golden apple chunks.

  “That looks good enough for me to eat,” Hannah said, stretching out her arm to snag a treat ball. She brought it to her nose and looked up at Adam. “Definitely more appetizing.”

  Matt held his about six inches from his nose and took a cautious sniff. Surprise registered on his face as he brought it up close and inhaled again. “It smells like trail mix,” he said. “Really good trail mix.”

  Adam’s expression was a study in relief and pleasure. When Matt pinched off a bit and stuck it on the end of his tongue, he looked even more gratified, laughing out loud when his son spit it out in disgust. “It’s not meant for human taste buds.”

  “I almost tasted it myself,” Hannah admitted, waving the fragrant morsel under her nose again. “However, I learned my lesson about pet food after sampling my cat’s Tuna Delight. It smelled like I could make a sandwich out of it but it tasted like sawdust.”

  “Eww, you ate cat food?” Matt said, still picking bits of alfalfa off his tongue.

  “You ate hay,” Hannah pointed out.

  “You don’t want to know what I’ve eaten,” Adam said, squatting down between Hannah and Matt.

  “Chocolate-covered bugs?” Hannah guessed.

  “Perfectly normal and delicious,” Adam said. “I was thinking of burnt goat head with the teeth included. And corn smut.”

  “Gross,” Matt grimaced. “What’s corn smut?”

  “It’s a fungus that deforms corn kernels and turns them purple, but it makes a great sauce or soup flavoring,” Adam said.

  “Gross squared,” Matt responded. “I’ve had snails.”

  “What’d you think?” his father asked, his face alight with interest.

  “Too chewy but not bad.”

  Hannah could see Matt begin to withdraw, almost as though he realized he was having a civil conversation with his father and that was a bad thing in the boy’s mind. She leapt in to save Adam from a rebuff. “Well, I’ve chowed down on duck tongues,” she said.

  The two Bosches gave her nearly identical looks of disbelief. “Why?” Matt asked.

  “It was a dare,” Hannah said. “A friend and I were visiting New York City and they had them in a Chinese restaurant.”

  “Well?” Adam prompted.

  “Let’s just say I never ate another one.”

  “Smart move,” Matt said. He rolled the horse treat around on his palm. “Should we make Satchmo sit up before I try to feed him this?”

  Hannah looked at the pony as she debated. He was lying on his side with his front legs stretched out straight and his back legs slightly folded. His belly rose and fell with his breathing, and other than an occasional flick of an ear he appeared to be asleep.

  “Considering how you and I reacted to the smell of the horse treat, I think you should hold it near his nose and let him get a good whiff of it. If he shows interest, we’ll work on getting his head up.”

  Matt nodded and waved the horse treat in front of Satchmo’s velvety nose a few times.

  “Crumble it up in your hand,” Adam said. “That will release more of the scent.”

  His son dug his fingers into the ball, breaking it apart so that Hannah could smell the fragrance from where she sat. He held it to the pony’s nostrils.

  It seemed as though nothing moved for a long moment before Satchmo’s eyelid popped open, his pale lashes accentuating the liquid darkness of his eye.

  “That’s it, Satch,” Matt said, swirling the bits of treat around in his palm. “Yummy stuff.”

  The pony fumbled against the boy’s hand with his lips before his long pink tongue snaked out to lick the food up.

  “He likes it,” Matt said, lifting a face aglow with happiness.

  “Your father makes a mean horse treat,” she said, wanting credit to go where it was due.

  Matt grabbed another treat from the bowl and smashed it in his slobber-slicked palm. “Here, Satch, have another one.”

  Hannah snuck a look at Adam to find the lines of tension around his mouth smooth away as he watched his son feed the pony.

  When Matt reached for a third treat, Satchmo tucked his front legs under him and rolled up so he could get his nose directly into the bowl.

  “Yessss!” Matt gave a fist pump.

  As the pony munched on the gourmet treats, Matt stretched his legs out with a sigh of release. “I was getting kind of cramped,” he said, flexing his feet in the ratty red high-tops. He watched Satchmo in silence before turning to his father. “I guess you know how to make good-tasting food for pretty much anyone.”

  “Anything I can do to help Satchmo get better,” Adam said. “I’ll make him more if Dr. Linden says it’s okay.”

  “Let’s see if he’ll drink some water first.” Hannah stood and walked to the water bucket hanging in the corner of the stall. She started to unhook it, only to have Adam’s hand close around the handle and lift it away from her.

  “Shall I put it on the straw in front of him?” he asked.

  She nodded and watched him carry the brimming bucket and ease it down beside the now empty feed bowl without spilling a drop.

  “Wash it down with this, Satch,” Adam said. “Vintage well water straight from the hose.”

  The pony sniffed at the bucket and turned his head away.

  “Can you make water taste better?” Hannah asked, looking at Adam with a wry smile.

  He stood looking down at the bucket with his hands shoved in the
back pockets of his jeans. “Hmm,” he said finally. “Let me go back to the feed room and work on it.”

  “I was kidding,” Hannah said.

  “He needs fluids, right?” Adam said, picking up the bucket.

  “Yes, but I can get them into him intravenously, if necessary.”

  “I might as well give it a try,” he said. “All he can do is reject it.”

  Hannah saw Adam check on Matt with a quick, sideways glance before he walked out of the stall.

  Matt stood up and rolled his shoulders. “It’s good that Satch ate, isn’t it?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

  “Very good.” Hannah watched the pony, who was now drowsing with his nose touching the straw.

  “It’s cool the horse treats worked,” Matt said, his hands in his back pockets in an unconscious echo of his father’s stance.

  “I have to get your dad’s recipe,” Hannah said. “For other finicky equine eaters.”

  “I’m pretty sure his recipes are secret. So other chefs can’t copy them.”

  Surprised by Matt’s knowledge of his father’s profession, Hannah saw an opening that she thought was worth taking. “So you understand that your father just put his world-class talent at the disposal of a sick pony?”

  “Yeah.” Matt kept his gaze on Satchmo.

  “And you realize he’s leaving his internationally famous restaurant in the hands of his staff on a Friday night to stay here?”

  Matt glanced at her for a split second before he nodded.

  “So I’d say he’s putting you first in his life.”

  The boy’s blue eyes were focused on her now. She saw a storm of conflicting emotions swirling there. Hope, fear, denial, and that bone-deep sadness that tore at her heart.

  “For now,” he said in a low voice. He dropped his gaze back to Satchmo. “I heard him talking on the phone. He’s trying to find someone from my mother’s family to adopt me.”

  Chapter 14

  HANNAH JERKED AWAKE. She blinked as she made out the rough beams supporting the barn’s roof in the near darkness above her, reminding her of where she was. After a dinner of take-out sandwiches, Sharon had rounded up sleeping bags for the three of them when they refused to leave Satchmo’s stall. As Hannah rubbed her hands over her face, she heard the harsh rasping of the pony’s breath. That must have been what yanked her out of her uneasy sleep.

  Adam’s low voice came from her right. “I was about to wake you. He just started breathing like that.”

  She turned her head to find Adam propped up against the wall, his long legs extended in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Exhaustion made his handsome face look gaunt.

  Matt’s revelation socked her in the gut again. She couldn’t reconcile this man who was camped out in a stable beside an ailing pony with the person Matt claimed wanted to give his son away. Remembering her own encounter with the injustice of slander, she decided not to condemn Adam before he’d had a chance to tell his side of the story. “Have you slept?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m used to late hours.” He stood and leaned down to offer his hand.

  She unzipped the sleeping bag and put her fingers in his, feeling his strength as he pulled her to her feet without visible effort. “Maybe he’s just in an awkward position,” she said, trying to ease his worry. She turned her watch to catch the low light slanting in from the corridor. It showed 3:20 a.m., right in the darkest hours of the night when all living beings seemed to loosen their hold on life.

  She walked quietly to the pony so as not to rouse Matt, who was wrapped in a sleeping bag beside Satchmo. Shortly after they’d eaten, the pony had put his head down and stretched out on his side again. He still lay in much the same way.

  Hooking her stethoscope in her ears, she moved it over Satchmo, listening to his heart and lungs, where the rasp was magnified, and to the faint gurgling of his digestive system. She put the scope away with a sigh before pulling his lips open and pressing a fingertip against his gums to test the capillary refill rate. The pony whiffled a little but didn’t move.

  She’d been hopeful when Satch had consumed Adam’s gourmet offerings, but the little creature was drifting away from them again. She glanced up at Adam, trying to keep the dismay from showing in her expression.

  He squatted beside her. “Is there anything else we can do for him?” he asked softly, tracing a long arc down Satchmo’s flank with the palm of his hand.

  She sat back on her heels and blew out a breath of frustration. Letting her gaze wander around the quiet, dimly lit stall, she noted the rise and fall of Satchmo’s belly, Matt’s cheek resting on his out flung arm, and finally the marks on the back of Adam’s hand as he continued to stroke the pony’s rough, reddish coat. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of horse, straw, and Adam’s faint spiciness—which was now reminiscent of a feed room rather than a kitchen. That brought a tiny smile to her lips.

  Everything was peaceful and serene. Her eyes flew open. She pulled the elastic band out of her sagging ponytail, gathered all the loose strands tightly at the back of her head, and wound the elastic back on with a snap. “We’re making it too easy for him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Matt had the right idea earlier. We’re going to give Satchmo all the stimulus we can manage. Matt, wake up.” She reached for the sleeping boy, but Adam caught her wrist to stop her. Startled, she looked at him to find a fierce protectiveness burning in his face.

  “What if this doesn’t work and Satchmo dies? Matt shouldn’t have to watch that,” Adam said, still holding her wrist.

  “It won’t work without Matt. He’s the only one who can pull Satch back from the edge.” She sat back on her heels.

  Adam released her, his gaze resting on his son as the ugly grating of Satchmo’s breathing filled the stall. After a long moment of stillness, Hannah sighed in relief when Adam leaned over and gently shook Matt’s shoulder. “Matt, Satch needs you.”

  “Wha—?” Matt half-opened his eyes before burrowing down into the sleeping bag.

  Adam shook him again. “Wake up. You need to talk to Satch.”

  Matt flopped onto his back, and squinted up at his father. “Satch? Is he okay?”

  “No, he’s fading. We need you to make him hang on.”

  As Matt dragged himself onto his elbows, Hannah began shaking Satchmo. “Hey, buddy, wake up! We’re going to get you on your feet.”

  Other than pivoting one ear backward, the pony ignored her.

  “I thought he was supposed to rest,” Matt said. Even as he spoke, he started to tickle Satchmo’s nose whiskers.

  “Yeah, but that isn’t working,” Hannah said. “We’re going to give him a reason to stick around.” She looked at Matt. “And that reason is you. Talk to him.”

  The boy swallowed and scratched his head. “Um, Satch, you got to get up. The doctor says so.”

  Hannah stood and walked around to stand by the pony’s back. Waving Adam around to join her, she knelt and slid her hands as far under Satchmo as she could get them. “We’re going to persuade him to sit upright,” she said, while Adam knelt beside her and matched her position. She felt the brush of his shoulder against hers as an almost electric shock, but pushed the sensation to the back of her mind to get to work on the pony. “Matt, grab his halter and pull his head up while we roll him. Now.”

  “C’mon, Satch,” Hannah nearly shouted as she levered her shoulder against the pony’s back. “Up you go!”

  Adam grunted, and she felt the weight of the pony shift. Matt was tugging Satchmo’s head up. “That’s it, Satch,” the boy said. “Get up! I need you to stay alive.”

  She heard the sharp intake of Adam’s breath at Matt’s last sentence. Adam must have heaved harder, because Satchmo’s dead weight came off her arms as the pony tucked his legs in and sat up.

 
“Okay!” Hannah said, dusting her palms on her jeans. “Now we have to get him on his feet.”

  Adam eyed the pony. “How much does he weigh?”

  “About six hundred pounds, I’d guess,” Hannah said. “Don’t worry. He’s going to get up by himself. With a little encouragement.”

  She got to her feet, while Adam surged up beside her. “What sort of encouragement did you have in mind?” he asked.

  “Matt and I are going to pull. And you’re going to push,” Hannah said, grabbing the lead line that hung by the door. Matt released the pony’s halter and scrambled to his feet.

  “By push I assume you mean from the rear,” Adam said with a dry undertone. He knelt at Satchmo’s rump and worked his hands beneath the pony.

  “At least he can’t kick you when he’s lying down,” Hannah said, giving him full marks for not hesitating to position himself there.

  “Now you’ve given me something else to worry about,” Adam said, but she noticed him shifting closer to the pony to improve his leverage.

  Hannah clipped the lead line to one side of Satchmo’s halter and threaded it under his chin and through the other side. “Matt, I want you on his right with your hands on his halter so you can pull too. But mostly I want you talking in Satch’s ear, convincing him he’s needed here.”

  Matt looked panicky. “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Is Satchmo important to you?” Hannah asked.

  Matt nodded.

  “Put that in your voice. The words don’t matter but he’ll hear the emotion.”

  She cast a quick glance at Adam, who was wearing an expression combining disbelief with something that might be admiration. Turning back to the pony, she wound the end of the lead line around her left hand and leaned down to grip it up close to the halter with her right. Matt bent down on the opposite side of Satchmo’s head, wrapping his fingers around the cheek strap of the pony’s halter.

  “Everyone ready?” Grunts of assent came from her assistants. “Matt, you start talking while I count to three. On three we start encouraging.”