Travis

This is a mess, I think as I drop down on the red armchair in the living room.

I shouldn’t have agreed to this crazy plan conceived by people who are already done living. I shouldn’t have let Phil, in particular, talk me into this.

Yes, I understand his sentiments and intentions. I know that I should probably move on and that it’s easier to do so with someone else. I know Angie would have wanted that, too. What I didn’t realize was that by letting Grace in, I’d have to throw Angie out. How can I not when Grace doesn’t even know who Angie is, when I’m not even allowed to tell her? It’s as if Angie is being overwritten, and I hate it.

I tap my fingers on the arm of the chair and wish that I had a bottle of beer between them.

I should have thought this through some more. What the hell was I thinking?

On the couch, Toby rests his head between his paws and sighs.

“My thoughts exactly, buddy,” I tell him.

Suddenly, his ears perk up and he lifts his head.

My eyebrows furrow. “What is it, boy?”

Then I hear it—a neigh from the stables and the stomping of hooves. I stand up and mutter a curse as I realize that my mare may be about to give birth. Today was so hectic that I’d forgotten how close she is. I grab my boots and run out the front door.

It seems like tonight is going to be crazy, too.

~

“Easy, girl,” I chant to Duchess as I squat a few feet away from her inside her stall.

Roughly ten minutes have passed by and she’s still standing up and kicking at the hay. In the stall beside her, the stallion, Joachim, has grown restless as well. I can hear his nostrils flaring from the other side of the wall.

“Easy,” I repeat. “Both of you should relax. Everything is going to be fine.”

As if to express her lack of confidence, Duchess shakes her head as her bulging belly, which seems to be on the verge of exploding, contracts once more.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

To be honest, I don’t know if things will turn out fine. I’ve never actually seen a mare give birth before, much less assisted one. This farm doesn’t belong to me, after all. It was Martin’s and Angie’s. Frankly, I don’t have a clue about what’s supposed to happen next, and with no Google and no veterinarian to call, I’m starting to feel a little scared.

Please let everything be alright.

“Is everything alright?” a voice startles me from behind.

I get on my feet and place a hand on my chest. “Jesus, you startled me.”

“Sorry,” Grace says. “I heard the commotion.”

She approaches me tentatively and stands beside me.

“Is she…?”

“About to give birth?” I finish her question. “Yes.”

“Shouldn’t she be lying down?”

I glance at her. Don’t tell me she knows something about horses giving birth?

“Have you done this before?” I ask her.

Her eyebrows crease. “Have I?”

Right. She doesn’t remember.

“I think it’s fine if she doesn’t lie down,” I say.

After all, Duchess isn’t showing any signs of wanting to lie down, and shouldn’t she know what’s best?

“I guess.” Grace shrugs. “Shouldn’t you catch the baby, though?”

Good point.

I approach Duchess slowly and kneel beside her. Grace joins me.

“That’s going to be one big baby, so you might need help,” she says.

I don’t protest. She has a point.

“What’s her name?” Grace asks.

“Duchess.”

“Duchess,” Grace repeats as she strokes her. “There, there. I know it’s not easy, but you’re going to be just fine and it will all be worth it, you’ll see.”

To my surprise, Duchess seems to calm down.

“Do you think you can lie down?” Grace asks her.

She shakes her head and stomps her hooves again.

“Okay. Okay. It was just a suggestion,” Grace says. “Do what you think is best and we’ll help you however we can.”

Again, Duchess calms down. For a few minutes, she stays still. So do I as I wait for the foal to come out. Beside me, Grace takes deep breaths.

She’s nervous, too, and yet she’s doing her best to be brave.

Finally, I see a small hoof coming out of her, then the tip of a white muzzle.

“That’s it,” Grace encourages. “Keep pushing.”

The other hoof comes out, then the head. I lift my arms and brace myself to catch the foal, but the rest of it comes out so fast I almost fall back. It’s a good thing Grace is there, supporting half of the foal’s weight so I manage to keep my balance.

“Hi there,” Grace greets the foal with a slightly strained voice.

Carefully, we put the foal down on the floor of the stall. Grace strokes its head with a smile that seems to make her whole face glow.

“Welcome to the world, perfect little one,” she coos.

Duchess turns to lick her foal and I pull Grace away to give them room. A few moments later, the foal makes its first attempts to stand as it tries to get to its mother’s milk. When it succeeds, I let out a sigh of relief while Grace hugs my arm and presses her head against my shoulder.

“This is so amazing,” she whispers.

And I have to agree. Now I understand what Phil was telling me. If the birth of a foal can bring so much hope, how much more could the birth of a baby bring?

I glance at Grace. “I guess you can be useful.”

I thought she’d be a spoiled, prissy brat since she’s a Pioneer, but she doesn’t seem to shrink from getting her hands dirty.

She frowns as she looks at me. “What does that mean? Wasn’t I useful before?”

“I mean that you can still get things done,” I correct myself.

“I’m an amnesiac, not a paralytic,” she points out with her hands on her hips. “If you can teach me the ropes again, I can help on the farm like I used to.” She looks at Duchess and the foal. “In fact, I think I’d like that. Very much.”

I guess there’s no harm in it. Besides, Jerry’s right. I do need help on the farm.

“Sure,” I tell her. “Your training starts tomorrow.”

~

“And you’re done.”

I clap my hands together after all the chickens are back in the coop. The task has taken Grace nearly two hours.

It’s her final task of the day, following milking Rosie the cow, feeding Rosie, collecting the eggs, feeding the chickens, cleaning the stables, taking Joachim for a walk, weeding the vegetable garden, and feeding the horses.

She wipes the sweat off her brow. “You’re saying I have to do this every day?”

“Only when I can’t,” I answer.

“Or we can take turns.” She stretches her arms. “That definitely beats a trip to the gym.”

My eyebrows go up at that. So she used to go to the gym, did she?

As I recall, only two kinds of people went to the gym—people with physically demanding jobs and rich people with too much time on their hands. She doesn’t seem like the former, so I’ll go with the latter.

“Don’t forget that there are house chores, too.” I point to the house behind me.

“Right.” She nods and looks at the house. “I have to clean the house, do laundry and cook, don’t I?”

I blink. “You do all that?”

“What?”

“I mean, you can cook?” I ask her. “Because you didn’t before.”

“Really?” She looks even more puzzled.

“I mean you’d try, but…” I grimace.

“I was that bad, huh?”

I nod.

“Well, who knows? I practically got a new lease on life at the cost of some memories. Maybe I’ve got some cooking skills now, too. In fact, I have a good feeling I do.”

“Okay.” I give another nod. “I guess we’ll find out.”