Chapter 17
My chance came that evening when, for some bizarre reason, Mom left off her painting early and started talking to us. She wanted news of the outside world and asked Kestrel question after question. I wasn’t sure what brought on her unusual interest, but I wasn’t going to complain, not when it gave me a chance to spend some time alone with Twilight.
“I’m going to check on the horses. Be back in a minute,” I said quietly, and made a quick exit before Kestrel could finish saying something excruciatingly dull to Mom. I could almost feel her protest pulling me back and totally felt sorry for her. Talking to adults is like taking tests. They ask the most boring questions. “Let’s play cards when I get back, okay?” I said as a way to make it up to her.
“Sure,” Mom said brightly and the cornered expression on Kestrel’s face lightened a bit. She liked card games.
The barn was serene in the lamplight, the horses drowsy inside their stalls, and Socrates and Plato snug in front of the stove. The only sound was the click of Loonie’s toenails as she followed me across the wooden floor. I moved to Twilight’s stall door and leaned over it. She was curled up in the hay, facing the corner. I bowed my head before the sadness oozing out of her. I had let this go on for far too long. If only I’d known about Willow sooner, or been braver about facing rejection – a rejection that came anyway.
Twilight?
The filly’s head shot up. She scrambled to her hooves and stared at me, wild eyed. Obviously, there wasn’t going to be an easy way to do this.
Twilight, I am Evy.
She backed until her hindquarters were in the far corner. I waited until she calmed a bit, then spoke again. I wanted to help you when I brought you here. I wanted to make you well and strong.
No words, but impressions came to my mind. She didn’t see me as making her well and strong. I was the one who hurt her everyday.
Tears prickled my eyes. I did not want to hurt you. I cleaned the wound that the wolf made. You needed that to heal. And now, you are strong. But I’m sorry I hurt you to heal you.
All I got in return was a feeling of confusion. She didn’t really understand what I was saying. Too many words, probably. I closed my eyes and offered an image to her – her wound and me cleaning it and the wound looking better after cleaning. Then like time-lapse photography, showing it getting better and better. In response, the confusion changed to a stubborn resolve. She wasn’t about to give me credit for helping her. In her mind, her body had healed itself, in spite of my actions.
I didn’t know what to say or think, so I just looked at her as she glared at me. This was certainly the way to get her stubborn Twilightness back – start an argument with her.
Home. Now. Her first words were loud and forceful in my mind, making me step backward. She wanted me to release her this second.
Tomorrow. Why did I say that? It was two weeks earlier than planned. But she wanted it so desperately. How could I make her wait that long when she was basically well? Another great silence stretched between us, as if she wasn’t sure what she’d heard.
Tomorrow we find your herd. You go back to them, I repeated.
Another big silence.
I would never hurt you. I looked down at the ground. I love you.
Seconds stretched to a full minute as I waited for her response. It didn’t come in words, but actions. She turned her hindquarters toward me, lowered her head, and hunched her back. She was telling me to get lost. She didn’t believe me.
I fought for clarity as emotions rocketed through my mind and body. It was so clear that Twilight would never trust me. She’d never love me. I was only her captor, that’s all, and would never be anything else. Talking to her had made no difference.
I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.
What else could I say? Nothing. She saw her sire and dam as saving her from the wolf. I’d just been the one who came along afterward and separated her from them. I was the one who’d put her through daily tortures.
I ran to the barn doors and leaned there for a moment, aching to go back to Rusty’s stall and seek comfort from him. But I’d see Twilight from there and I couldn’t bear to look at her right now. I already hurt too much.
Loonie came up behind me and whined. I spun around and dropped to my knees. The old dog looked like she needed a hug. Oh, who am I kidding? I needed the hug. I lay my head on her fur and put my arms around her. “She hates me, Loonie.”
Loonie whined and licked my hand. She loved me. So did Rusty and Cocoa, Socrates and Plato, and, of course, my mom. I was lucky. I had a great friend. I lived in a beautiful part of the world. I even had a big mystery to solve with figuring out why Mom was hiding out in the bush and about who might be looking for her – or us. I sniffled into Loonie’s shoulder. I wouldn’t have thought it a good thing on any other day, but today I felt safe knowing that lifelong puzzles were still in place. Except for Twilight hating me forever, everything else in my life was the same as it always had been.
Twilight does not understand, Rusty said. Comfort and warm wishes grew thick around me. She is wrong. Someday she may see you truthfully.
I sniffled and wiped my eyes. Thanks, Rusty.
Slowly, I stood. Twilight hated me. So be it. I didn’t regret telling her the truth about loving her and I certainly didn’t regret saving her life, even if she didn’t acknowledge it. Let her give the credit to her sire and dam. They had been the ones who chased off the wolf anyway.
“Thanks to you too, Loonie,” I whispered. “I’m ready to go inside now.”
Mom and Kestrel both looked up when I opened the door to the cabin, then Kestrel looked guiltily down at the table. As I bent to take off my boots, I wondered if they’d been talking about me. My suspicions were confirmed when Mom jumped up and said she was going to make chocolate cake with chocolate mint icing for desert. My favorite that she usually only makes on my birthday. I looked searchingly at Kestrel. What had they been saying?
Mom was still prattling on about the cake when I sat at the table. “What were you talking about?” I mouthed to Kestrel.
“She didn’t know you were freeing Twilight,” she whispered.
I squeezed my eyes shut in relief. Now I didn’t have to tell Mom myself. “Tomorrow,” I whispered back.
Kestrel’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow?”
I nodded, then got up from the table and went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I heard the murmur of voices on the other side of the door. Kestrel was probably telling Mom my plans. Then the other room became quiet. A soft knock sounded on the bedroom door. When I didn’t answer, it opened.
“Evy? Are you okay?” Kestrel asked.
I covered my face with my pillow in an attempt to hide the tears that had started once again. I felt her sit on my bed.
“Sorry about telling. I just wanted to make it easier for you.”
I tried to say it was okay, but for a moment, couldn’t speak. Sorrow at losing Twilight stuck in my throat. I felt so helpless, so full of grief – and then I forced myself to remember that she’d never been mine. I thought of how excited she’d be tomorrow, to be going home, and that helped me find my strength again. I looked up from the pillow.
“It’s okay. I’m not mad. Just sad.” I sniffled and tried to smile.
Somehow I made it through the evening. We played cards and then Mom and Kestrel played a game of chess while I stared out the window – and finally it was bedtime. Kestrel and I settled in the front room like we always do when she stays over.
“I’m sorry, Evy,” she said, as soon as Mom was gone to the bedroom.
“It’s okay. Really,” I said, trying to sound more convincing. “I don’t know how I could’ve told her.”
That seemed to satisfy her, because she moved on to another topic. “You got a letter from your pen pal in Vancouver.” I heard the rustle of paper as she pulled the envelope from her backpack. “It feels stiff, like it has photos in it.”
“I’ll open it tomo
rrow, okay?” I turned over and pulled the sleeping bag up to my chin.
Paper crinkled as Kestrel put the envelope back in her backpack. There was a long silence, then a soft, “Good-night.”
“Good-night.”
Of course, I couldn’t sleep. After I was sure Kestrel was asleep, I let Loonie inside and curled up in the big chair by the window. The old girl settled at my feet as I stared into the darkness.
There was no moon and the night was as black as it could get. When I finally shut my eyes it looked the same behind my eyelids, the dark endless, the night eternal. This night was the last night Twilight slept in my barn. I imagined her there, wondering if she really would be going home tomorrow, her hope battling her unwillingness to believe anything good of me.
In one way, she’d be dreading the morning, thinking I’d lied to her. And yet I had no doubt that some small part of her would be wishing the night away, just as I wanted to hold it back. And neither of us could affect it at all because the night is what it is. The world is what it is. Life is what it is.
All we can do is the best we can and let others be who they are. Twilight was wild. I had to accept that.