CHAPTER SEVEN
Tommaso
I slept in the barn that night.
Nothing new for me. I had a cot that I set up just outside of Angel’s stall, and Portia stayed with me—though she didn’t seem overly enthused about the idea, even though I brought out her princess bed for her to lay in.
Unfortunately, Morty couldn’t say how far along the foal was. He didn’t have his full ultrasound machine, just the doppler, and while Angel was sickly, the foal’s heartbeat was surprisingly strong.
Angus worked past midnight on her hooves, since both he and Angel required frequent breaks. She wasn’t keen on having someone touch her so much, and he said his back was sore having to bend over that way for so long to clean up her gnarled hooves.
By the time the chopper picked both Angus and Morty up at twelve-thirty, the frail mare had a brand-new set of shoes and a fresh pedicure.
She hadn’t eaten much besides the carrots I had given her, but she did seem to like the calming salt block I had put in her stall.
Rich with minerals, including magnesium, as well as dextrose and electrolytes.
I usually offered these to my horses when they first arrived since they helped to calm them naturally as well as provide them with essential nutrients they may not have previously received.
I adjusted my pillow and rolled over onto my side in my cot. Portia snored like a lorry truck shifting gears before going uphill in her plush princess bed beside me. I shook my head at the very chill pig. “Diva,” I murmured.
Angel made a noise in her stall, and the other horses in the barn replied in turn. Nothing alarming, just huffs and lip flutters all around, almost like a greeting. “Welcome to the family” sort of thing.
Closing my eyes, I tuned into the smells and sounds around me, hoping the calming scent of straw and fresh manure, and the gentle snores of the horses—combined with the obnoxious snore of my pig—would lull me into sleep.
But as soon as I closed them, none of those things really took shape.
Instead, all I could see were the bright, hazel-green eyes of Danica.
The small, demure smile on her lips, and the way the wind swept her blonde hair across her face in an almost angelic way.
Growling, I flipped around in my bed again to the other side, punched my pillow, and tugged the single wool blanket higher up onto my shoulders.
I didn’t even see her and her daughter off today. This was the second time I had been rude to her. The first time being my panic attack and how I just walked away from them, and now today, when I was so focused on Angel that I didn’t even see them leave.
Even though the animals were my life, that didn’t excuse my being rude.
She didn’t deserve that.
She was advocating on behalf of her child. She was here for her child.
She probably had much better things to do than brush horses for hours, but she did it—for her child.
What did she do during the day?
Did she have any hobbies? What was her favorite food?
Oh god! What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I thinking these things about a woman I barely knew? About a woman who … was clearly significantly younger than me, and most definitely not my wife.
Guilt flickered on the fringes of my thoughts, competing with the continuing thoughts I had about Danica. Thoughts I just couldn’t seem to let go of no matter how hard I tried. Of course, the harder I tried not to think about her, the more I thought about her.
I had no idea when I fell asleep, but it was later than I intended, and of course, when the animals started to make noise far too early in the morning, the first thing I thought about as soon as consciousness claimed me—was Danica.
This was not good.
The weather was terrible. Thank god Angel came yesterday and not today, because I wouldn’t have been able to get Morty or Angus over to the island in the horrific wind that rattled the barn and threatened to peel the shingles off the roof.
While the donkeys seemed to love the wind and stood with their faces toward the gusts, the horses all hunkered down in the barn, refusing to let the chilly breeze ruffle their manes.
I couldn’t blame them really, especially when the rain chose to accompany the wind mid-day. It was a day fit for ducks, but not much else.
Angel was still really stressed out and continued to show signs of fear.
She allowed me into her stall, but I could tell by the exposed whites of her eyes and the flare of her nostrils that she did so reluctantly.
She also wouldn’t eat. I tried all different kinds of food, and she barely took any interest.
She wasn’t the first too-scared-to-eat horse I’d nursed back to health, but she was the first pregnant one, and her lack of an appetite when she had a foal to grow big and strong, worried me.
How far along she was, was anybody’s guess. She could be a few months, or ready to deliver any day; it was impossible to tell based on how sickly she was. Either way, Morty didn’t expect the foal to survive based on the serious malnutrition of its mother.
My heart ached for her, and besides going inside to the toilet and to eat, I stayed with her all day, letting her know that she was safe and I wasn’t going anywhere.
I’d lost track of time and didn’t realize how late in the day it was until a gentle knock at the side door of the barn pulled my attention.
“Si?” I replied, exiting Angel’s stall and making my way to the door just as it opened and Danica and Sam entered, pulling the hoods of their rain jackets off their heads.
Danica struggled a bit with the wind to close the door, then spun to face me, a glimmer of triumph in her eyes until she caught me watching her.
They both had flushed cheeks from the weather, but Danica’s color seemed to deepen as soon as she averted her gaze.
A weird, bubbly sensation filled my abdomen upon seeing her again. She wore her blonde hair in a ponytail today as well, showing off her long, slender neck.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “I know today isn’t Sam’s day to come, but she begged me to stop by so we could check on Angel and see how she’s doing.”
I smiled at the genuine concern on both of their faces and nodded, extending my arm toward Angel’s stall. “Si. Come see for yourself. She …” I sighed. “She is not eating.”
“But why not?” Sam asked. “She ate the carrots yesterday.”
I shrugged. “She is stressed. Fearful. She does not know me. She does not trust me. She doesn’t know these horses. She may not know what is happening with her body.”
Sam’s mouth dropped into a deep frown as she came to stand at Angel’s stall, reaching her hand through the cutout. “Come on, baby,” she encouraged. “You need to eat to get strong for your foal.”
Danica’s gaze wandered the barn before settling on my cot in the corner. “Did you sleep out here last night?” she asked, which came out almost more like an exclamation.
“Si.”
“C-can I go into her stall?” Sam asked.
“No!” Danica replied quickly.
I tilted my head to the side for a moment, watching the mother and daughter, and the way Sam grew sad at her mother’s response.
Danica cleared her throat. “What I mean, sweetie, is that Angel is still very stressed. She doesn’t know you. She’s unpredictable.”
“While I agree that she is stressed,” I started, “she has not been aggressive at all. If you are all right with it, I will go into the stall with Sam.”
Sam’s eyes lit up.
Danica remained hesitant, but I could see she was warming to the idea.
“Can I, Mom?” Sam asked. “Please?”
“I do not mean to undermine you,” I replied. “I am just saying that Angel does not seem aggressive. Just scared.”
“Aren’t scared horses the ones to be afraid of the most?” Danica asked.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. But I will be right there. I do not think Angel will harm Sam. She needs to learn to trust. She needs to learn love.”
“Please,” Sam persisted. “Please, Mom.”
I could already see that Danica was resigned to letting her daughter come in with me, but I stood there patiently, waiting for her to verbalize it. Sam wasn’t nearly as patient, and I found that humorous.
“Fine, but … you listen to Tom, okay?”
Sam nodded with excitement. “I promise.”
I unlatched the stall door, causing Angel to huff and snort in distress. She backed herself into the corner furthest away from us, stomping her newly trimmed and shoed hooves as the whites of her eyes gleamed under the warm barn lights.
“Shhh … Tranquilla, bella mia,” I whispered to her, approaching her slowly from the side so she could see me.
“Brava ragazza, calma… Adesso basta paura… sei libera.” She had a gentle bridle on, but no bit.
I grabbed the bridle for a small amount of gentle control.
I pressed my forehead against her cheek, her nostrils still flaring with ragged breaths.
“Wh-what did you say to her?” Sam asked softly.
“Hmm?” I glanced over at her.
“What did you say to Angel? She … she seems calmer.”
I smiled. “First, I said, ‘Easy, my beauty.’ Then I said, ‘Good girl, calm down.’ And finally, I told her that she has no more fear now, that she is free.”
“The f-first one. Tran-tranquilla—”
“Tranquilla, bella mia. Easy, my beauty. Si.”
With just a slight tremble in her hand, the young girl reached forward toward Angel.
Angel kept an eye on Sam the whole time, but her breathing eased a little and her muscles relaxed just a touch.
“Tran …” She swallowed. “Tranquilla, bella mia,” Sam said, finally making contact with Angel’s forehead.
The smile on the little girl’s face made the entire barn brighter.
Angel dipped her head a little and pushed it toward Sam only a few inches, but I took that as a good sign and released my hold on the reins slightly.
Sam stepped closer, growing bolder and continuing to pet Angel. “Tranquilla, bella mia,” she said again.
“Ben fatto,” I said gently.
“What does that mean?”
“Well done.”