Chapter Twelve
Alice
S unshine blankets the acres of farmland as I watch Hannah J. toss handfuls of feed for the chickens to eat. They all scatter about, chasing after the small pellets.
“Aren’t they amazin’, Miss Alice?” There’s a look of wonderment splashed on the young girl’s face that triggers my own.
“They sure are.”
“I call that one Little Frankie.” She points to the smallest one who waddles behind all the others, fighting to keep up.
“He is the youngest and always gets left behind so I make sure to give him a little extra.” Jumping off the gate, she kneels down, feeding him from the palm of her hand while softly stroking its head with her other.
“It ain’t easy being so small, is it, little fella? ”
Ryanne smiles over at me. “These animals mean a lot to her. She’s very protective of them.”
“I think it’s wonderful.”
It shows compassion and that’s something we could all use more of in this world, even the tiniest of creatures.
Hannah peeks up at me, lifting the bag of food. “Would you like to feed them?”
I hesitate, wanting to accept the offer, but fear I’ll end up doing something wrong.
“Go on.” Ryanne encourages me with a bump to my shoulder. “It’s fun.”
“Okay.” Smiling, I walk over and kneel next to Hannah. “What do I do?”
“Hold out your hand.”
I do as she instructs, receiving a handful of pellets.
“Now make sure to keep it flat as a pancake.” Taking my wrist, she guides my hand inside the pen, offering them the food that rests in my palm. “Come on,” she coos to the small animals. “She won’t hurt ya.”
Three chickens slowly waddle their way over, pecking the food from my hand. The tip of their beaks tickle my palm and it drags a giggle from me.
Hannah J. smiles, the excitement in her eyes mirroring my own. “Isn’t it cool?”
“Very,” I agree.
“Papa Thatcher always says animals are some of God’s best creations and they can make the best of friends when you need one.” She gazes back at me as if knowing just how much I could use a friend, her wisdom as big as her heart. “Wanna meet the pigs now?” she asks.
“I’d love to.” I climb to my feet, wiping the dirt from my bottom.
“This way.” She takes off like a rocket, heading in the direction of the pigpen.
“Don’t run,” Ryanne calls to her retreating back. “You’re going to—” Her sentence turns into a gasp when Hannah trips, landing in a big pile of horse poop. “Fall…” Ryanne’s hands frame her face in distress. “Oh dear.”
I cringe as well, feeling awful for the poor girl.
Hannah rolls over and sits up, her face scrunched in disgust. “Yuck!”
Unable to help ourselves, Ryanne and I burst into laughter. Thankfully, Hannah isn’t offended, her own laughter mingling with ours.
“Help me, Mama. It’s so gross.”
We hurry over, pulling her to her feet.
“This is why I always tell you not to run,” Ryanne gently scolds. “Come on now, you need to shower and change.”
“But what about the pigs?”
“They’re gonna have to wait. You can’t do anything with horse poop all over you.”
“But, they need me,” she argues, visibly distraught. “They’ll worry if I don’t come at my normal time.”
“How about I keep them company for you?” I offer.
Hannah J. peeks up at me. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“That would be great. Thanks, Miss Alice.” She walks toward me for a hug but then thinks better of it. “Let them know I won’t be long.”
“I will.”
“And watch out for Gus,” she warns with a shake of her finger. “He can be a little stinker, but he’s got a good heart.”
I nod. “Gus. Stinker. Got it.”
“All right, let’s go so you can get back to it.” Ryanne takes Hannah’s hand, mouthing a “thank you” to me as she does then walks back to the house.
I continue over to the pigpen that’s located on the other side of the big red barn. There, I find four of the cutest pink pigs, all of them covered in mud.
“Well aren’t you guys just the sweetest.”
One comes running over to me, snorting as it does. Kneeling down, I carefully reach in and pet it, laughing as it pushes its dirty nose into my hand.
“You’re as filthy as Hannah J., maybe you need a bath too.”
His response is jumping into a puddle and splashing me with the dirty water. Shrieking, I jump back and shake myself off on a laugh.
The pig dances around, clearly amused with himself.
I plant my hands on my hips. “Let me guess, you must be Gus. Hannah warned me about you. Guess I should have listened, huh?”
Just as the pig runs to join his friends again, a noise drifts from the barn, yanking my attention there.
Curiosity sends me forward, the distressed sound getting louder with every step I take. As I reach the barn, I pull open the big double doors and gasp at what I find.
Several horses stand behind their gates, my entire world lighting up at the sight of them. There are a variety of colors. Black ones, brown ones, even an all white one. Some go about their day grazing hay while others rest and sleep.
One in particular stands out amongst the others, a helpless cry pouring from the animal as it restlessly dances in its closed confines. The heartbreaking sounds call to every part of my damaged soul, drawing me in closer.
I stop just before the gate and peer up into its beautiful face, feeling a certain kinship toward it. Tentatively, I lift my hand only to have it flinch back. It has me pausing midair. “It’s okay,” I soothe gently. “I won’t hurt you.”
Our eyes connect for a solid second, an irrevocable one that gives me the courage to reach out one more time. I manage to make contact this time, my hand landing on the side of its neck. Its restless nature instantly melts beneath my touch.
“There you go. See? Nothing to be afraid of.”
A choppy breath escapes the horse’s nostrils, its eyes closing as I stroke its neck in a soothing gesture.
“Well, I’ll be damned…”
Startled by the sudden voice, I spin around to find Braxten’s father standing just inside the open doorway. I quickly drop my hand and step back from the horse. “I’m sorry.”
His head tilts at the apology. “What on earth for?”
“I was waiting for Hannah J. and heard the horses. I didn’t mean to enter without permission.”
He waves away my concern. “Nonsense. My home is your home. I told you that.”
A smile graces my face, thankful to know I didn’t overstep.
He gestures to the horse. “You like her?”
“Very much.” I turn back to the incredible animal and gaze into her glossy black eyes. “What’s her name?”
“Leela,” he answers, walking closer. “It means wild and free.”
The name seems rather fitting for the beautiful horse.
She stretches her neck out toward me, seeking my touch again.
I glance over at Thatcher, silently asking permission.
He nods. “Go on.”
Stepping closer, I lift my hand again, this time petting her long nose. She seems to seek solace in the touch, so much so that she affectionately rubs her face against my cheek, melting my heart into a puddle of goo.
Thatcher props a boot up on the gated stall next to us, watching our interaction. “She sure does like you.”
That statement pleases me. “You think so?”
“I know so. She never lets people get this close to her.”
I frown, surprised to hear that considering how affectionate she is. “Why not?”
“She’s got trust issues, been hurt.”
I gaze at him, waiting for an elaboration.
“I got her two years ago from a rescue shelter,” he explains somberly. “She was badly abused for the first half of her life.”
The information slams into my heart with an indescribable pain.
“They were gonna put her down. Said she was a loose cannon and couldn’t be trusted. I disagreed and turns out I was right. She’s timid, but not dangerous. All she needs is a little TLC.”
I peer up at the horse as I pet her, hating to know she has endured any unkindness. “How could anyone hurt something so beautiful?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”
The shift in his voice reverts my attention back to him. Kindness and compassion reflects in his eyes, his words clearly not only meant for the horse.
“Sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason for the cruelties we face, but I’ve come to learn that even the most heartbreaking times can lead us to where we are always meant to be.”
My gaze lands on his hand with the severed fingers, remembering that he has been dealt his fair share of heartbreak too.
“Braxten told me what happened to you all those years ago,” I speak carefully. “I’m sorry someone hurt you.”
He flashes me a sad smile. “Living in a world where the color of your skin defined you wasn’t an easy world to live in. Yet, here I am, forty years later, coming full circle with the only woman I’ve ever loved and raising boys who I love as if they were my own flesh and blood.”
The pride that radiates from him as he talks about his sons is liberating, something I could only hope to know one day.
Looking away, I clear my throat and say something I should have already said. “I’m really sorry for the trouble I’ve brought you and your family, Mr. Creed. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Silence settles as I pay close attention to my sandaled feet.
“Maybe you didn’t. Maybe trouble brought you to us.”
My head lifts at his response, gaze meeting his once more.
“You see, I believe we all have a destiny, a certain path we’re meant to follow. Maybe this is yours.”
I think about his words and consider the possibility.
“What if I’m too lost to follow my path?” I ask, speaking the heartbreak of my reality. “How can I follow it if I have no past to guide me?”
“The past doesn’t matter, child. Your destiny isn’t behind you. It’s in front of you.”
That powerful statement infiltrates my heart, anchoring me where I stand.
He moves in closer, taking my shoulders in a gentle grasp. “Some people spend their whole lives wishing they could forget their past, but you…you have a chance to start all over again. Be whoever you want to be. The possibilities are endless.”
There’s so much knowledge in his words, so much wisdom and guidance, it gives me hope for my future.