I get off the phone with the little girl, my heart dancing. I look over at Jenny and her new little colt. With trembling fingers, I dial Kyle’s office. They’re quick to answer.

“Yeah,” I say, after exchanging pleasantries. “She gave me a healthy colt, so no rush.” My mind glazes over as I think about the little girl I’d just talked to and her excitement. Lessons are something I decided to do, in hopes of fostering the same love of horses my father nurtured in me in the next generation of children.

And who knows? Maybe the girl’s daddy is a cute guy who’d be interested in a woman like me. Wouldn’t that be a great way to meet a handsome bachelor?

Of course, I’m not totally sure he’s a bachelor, but something in the way the girl pointedly said she’d bring her daddy leaves little doubt in my mind that mom is either not in the picture or is not too very active in the girl’s life. Which is heartbreaking. I’ve heard of single dads, but I’ve never actually met a guy who is the full time caretaker of a child.

Then again, my life has been pretty sheltered.

Still, I think it’s amazing. Everyone gives single moms all these props, but single dads seem to fall between the cracks. It’s a sad reality of life, maybe because they seem so fewer in numbers, but I have the feeling their fight is harder.

And already, my heart is aching for this fracture little family even though I’ve got no idea what exactly happened, and even though it’s none of my business.

The curious side of my soul wants to know everything, but the part of me that feels like dad’s watching says I need to keep my tongue under control. It’s none of my business. I need to repeat that like a mantra and focus on the task at hand.

“Hello?”

“Kyle!” I exclaim, standing up and looking over the stall door at the vet. He flashes me a great big grin and I apologize. “Sorry if you were waiting for me out there.”

He shakes his head and makes his way to my side. “I came right back. I know how you get.” He opens the stall and we stand side by side in the big box stall. “He’s a good looking little guy.”

I nod as he strokes Jenny’s neck. Kyle has been the vet we’ve had on call for the last four years. He’d been fresh out of vet school, but dad trusted him. Something about his face, his love of animals, and that even the elusive barn cats liked him made him someone dad liked.

“You’re looking pale,” he says to me, and my heart stops. My face blazes red hot and I stare at the colt.

“Uh, yeah. Long nights, you know, waiting on this little guy. I’ll get some good sleep now.” The lie slips off my tongue, and I duck my face in shame. But it’s too embarrassing to tell him that I don’t take good care of myself, that I haven’t had a decent meal in months, that with dad gone, I find it hard to even find the point of getting out of bed some mornings.

But depression is normal after losing a loved one. It’s no body’s worry but my own. I’m not going to pile my problems on someone just for expressing concern. Tears sting in my eyes and I hear Kyle’s apology in his words.

“That was out of line, I’m sorry.” He peeks at Jenny’s teeth, then begins to fuss over her, and I take the moment of quiet to compose myself.

With a quick sniff to hide the tears, I stuff my hands in my back pockets. “No worries. Just new addition stress, you know?”

He nods without looking at me, and I breathe a quick sigh of relief and watch the new foal’s wobbly legs. “I’m going to go make a few phone calls, okay?”

“No problem,” he says, “I’ll stop in before I leave, okay?”

I agree and escape the mare box. Making a beeline for the house, I don’t stop until I’m locked in the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I stare at the sink. It’s heart wrenching that well-meaning words are enough to destroy me like that. Crying in front of the vet? I feel like an idiot.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“It gets easier,” I whisper to myself in the mirror. I have to believe that. I have to. It’s the only thing that keeps me going some days. It’ll get easier. Gripping the edges of the sink so tightly I feel my knuckles begin to ache, I stare at myself and focus on taking deep, cleansing, calming breaths.

Everything will be okay.

I’ll be okay.

Once my heart has returned to a more reasonable rate, I decide to take a break and make myself some lunch. Chores can wait for a little while. I won’t be any good to anything for anything if I don’t stop and take care of myself.

Walking through the kitchen, I realize I haven’t gone shopping in a while. So I settle on making myself some spaghetti. A knock at the door prompts me to call out.

“Come in!”

I set the pan of water on the stove and dump in the noodles as Kyle comes into the kitchen.

“Everything seems good,” he says, leaning on the door frame.

“Thank you. I know I stress too easily,” I say, turning to lean against the counter. His gaze meets mine, but I look away.

“Your dad would be proud,” he says, and I feel my throat close up.

Miserable, I force out a thank you that I don’t feel. I doubt I’m fooling him for even a second.

To my surprise, he closes the gap between us and pulls me into a hug. Part of me wants to pull back, but my arms wind around his shoulders and I cling to him, the tears rolling down my cheeks.

After a moment, I back off, feeling awkward. “What do I owe you?” I ask, needing to remind him - and myself - that he’s here on business.

“Nothing.” He steps back. “I’ll see you in a few weeks to check up on the new little guy, okay?” he says, his tone gentle and not pushy.

“Thank you,” I say, making a mental note to pay him after he leaves. I’m not going to let him wiggle into a position either of us might regret. He’s a good looking guy, he’s about my age, but he’s also the only vet in spitting distance. I’m not about to fuck things up by getting personal – well, any more personal – or letting him get to a place where he feels like I’m taking advantage of him.

In any other situation, I’d be taking him up on his silent offer for comfort. But he’s the vet. I need to keep things professional. My animal’s lives might depend on it in the future.

“Have a great day,” he says, “call me if you need anything.”

Unable to speak, I merely nod.

“Emma,” he says, and I look up at him. His blue eyes are crystal bright and his dark lashes striking in the narrow beam of sunshine lighting him up. “I meant it. Your dad would be proud.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, the words feeling like sandpaper on my throat.

With that, he leaves, and I stare after him until the water boils over.