22 
22 Lauren
“GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE,” LYSSA SAID. “The day we’ve been working for is finally here!”
I looked around at the group of people in the indoor arena. At the last day, maybe half of the first group of volunteers who had signed up was here. My friends and I stood with Sasha and the rest of our group from Canterwood. All of the older Canterwood girls had red and green ribbons woven through French braids in their hair. Très chic!
“First, I want to offer my sincerest gratitude to all of you who are here this morning,” Lyssa added. “You are a special group of people because you have been here for the duration of our adopt-a-thon preparation. Without your help, today would not be possible.”
I glanced at Bri, who stood at my right, and smiled. She did the same. My repaired friendship with Bri was one of the many good things that had come from this experience. The hours we had spent at Safe Haven had given us several opportunities to talk. We spent hours talking about the Taylor situation and I was finally, 100 percent, able to forgive her.
Break had also allowed me to spend time I’d desperately wanted with Ana. I realized all over again how much I missed her. We caught up on every detail in each other’s lives. Ana had also gone into detail about why she hadn’t told me about Bri and Taylor dating over the summer. With our talks, any residual anger I’d been holding on to had evaporated.
Spending time with these horses and thinking about their situations—how they were almost like foster kids being shuffled from owner to Safe Haven and hopefully to a forever home—made me think about how lucky not only Whisper was, but also all of the other horses at Canterwood and Briar Creek.
“Thanks to your time and dedication,” Lyssa said, pulling me out of my thoughts, “potential adopters will be showing up any minute to meet horses that you’ve prepared. Please refer to the list of available horses with their photos on the wall behind me if you need a reminder of a horse’s name. On the banquet table is an information stack with vital statistics about each horse. Each sheet contains the horse’s name, age, gender, color, background, nature of the animal, and information about what kind of home the horse requires.”
I knew those sheets very well. I’d been on printing duty yesterday and had printed hundreds of papers.
“If you have any questions or have forgotten something from the mock adopt-a-thon session we ran through yesterday, please come find me or another coordinator,” Lyssa added.
A vehicle door slammed, and everyone turned toward the small window facing the parking lot.
“It sounds like our first potential adopter is here,” Lyssa said, smiling. “The last thing I have to say is: Have fun! Be proud of what you’ve done, and let’s find these horses some wonderful homes.”
“Yeah!” someone cheered from the crowd.
I started clapping, and the entire group burst into applause.
Amped up from Lyssa’s speech and from the energy of the other volunteers, I followed everyone else out of the arena and to the parking lot.
Car after car after car was backed up along Safe Haven’s driveway. Almost every available parking space was full, and someone had already parked a sedan on the grass. Some of the pickup trucks had horse trailers attached and some didn’t. Lyssa had said that many people often visited the horses first and came back with a trailer later if they found one to adopt.
The parking lot teemed with kids, teens, students around Char’s age, adults, and even a few gray- and white-haired men and women.
“Um, I think the publicity worked,” I said to Lexa.
We had each taken turns working on publicity and marketing for the event. I’d been paired up with Cole one afternoon to call the local newspaper, tell them about our event, and ask if they would run a notice a few days before the event. Amazingly, the paper had not only said yes, but they’d sent a reporter and photographer to Safe Haven. My friends and I hadn’t been at the stable when the newspaper people had shown up, but the article had made the front page of the Union Times.
She nodded, her curly black hair tied up with a red ribbon. “Imagine if even five of these people adopt a horse!”
“Let’s go!” I said. We high-fived, and I walked over to a girl who looked a lot like Becca, only a few years older. Her light-brown hair was loose around her shoulders, and she had well-worn paddock boots paired with jeans. A newspaper clipping of the event’s date and time was in one hand.
“Hi,” I said to her, stopping just off to the side of the stable entrance. “I’m Lauren—one of the volunteers here.”
“Hi, Lauren,” the girl said, offering a hand. “I’m Jenn. I’m thinking about adopting a horse today.”
“Oh, that’s great,” I said. I thought back to the questions we’d gone over yesterday that Lyssa had wanted us to ask potential adopters. “What’s your background with horses?”
Jenn tucked the clipping into the pocket of her navy wool coat. “I’ve been a rider since I was six—Western and English. I’m a student at the University of Connecticut, and I’ve got two quarter horses that I show for pleasure.”
I nodded, already liking Jenn.
“I keep my horses at my parents’ barn,” Jenn continued. “There are a few acres of land and plenty of room for another horse.”
“Do you want another horse to show?” I asked.
Jenn shook her head. “Actually, I want to adopt a horse as a companion for my other two geldings. I’m plenty busy showing my boys and since there’s extra room, I’d love to rescue a Thoroughbred that can’t be ridden either due to injury or whatever reason.”
I almost dropped my jaw. “Wow. That’s so kind of you.”
“Thanks, but the horse would be doing me a favor. I’d love to have another horse to groom and care for.”
“Let’s go inside,” I said. “Do you have a preference for a mare or gelding?”
We walked into the stable, and I fought the urge to do a cartwheel. If only every person here was like Jenn. One Safe Haven horse was about to become very lucky.
“Either one,” Jenn said. “As long as he or she is friendly toward other horses.”
“Let me grab a list of horses that meet your requirements,” I said. “Then you can meet them, if you like.”
“Sounds great,” Jenn said, smiling.
I hurried down the aisle and ducked inside the indoor arena. I scanned the table and picked up four flyers—two mares and two geldings—with their names and a head shot. All of them had red Xs next to “Able to Ride,” a summary explaining why, and a smiley face next to “Herd Friendly.”
I took the flyers and found Jenn stroking the neck of a gray who’d stuck his head out of his stall.
“These are four horses that can’t be ridden,” I said. “They were all injured on the track or during training. That paragraph”—I pointed to it—“goes into detail about what happened, how their injury was treated, and if further treatment is required.”
“This is great,” Jenn said, her eyes on the papers.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to read about the horses. Then you can meet as many of them as you like,” I said.
“Great! Thanks, Lauren.” Jenn sat down on one of the benches we’d set up for today’s visitors and began leafing through the papers.
I wanted to stay nearby but not hover, so I walked a few stalls away. Farther down the aisle, Drew held the lead line of a feisty black yearling who danced in place as Drew talked to a tall man in a baseball cap.
“Excuse me.” A red-haired guy approached me. “I just spoke to one of the coordinators, who pointed you out to me. Lauren, right?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, shaking his hand. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Ross Barker. Kelsey, the woman who’s helping me, told me that you would be able to get me information on any available mares that were for intermediate or advanced riders. I’ve got a sixteen-year-old daughter who doesn’t know that she’s getting a horse for Christmas.”
“That’s only the best present ever,” I said, smiling. “Let me go grab those papers for you. I’ll be right back.”
In the arena, Callie was at the table, gathering papers.
“Hi, Lauren,” she said with a smile.
“Hey, Callie,” I said. “I love your ribbons!”
The ribbons stood out against her raven-colored hair. “Thanks! We all did each other’s hair.”
“Great idea,” I said. “It’s so festive.”
“You and your girlfriends look pretty Christmassy too,” Callie said.
I reached up and touched the poinsettia hair clip just behind my ear. “Thanks! They were a surprise for all of us from my mom.”
“I didn’t see any of your guy friends wearing theirs . . . ,” Callie said, grinning.
“We tried,” I joked. “The best we could do was get them to wear red and green.”
“Ha—that’s what Jacob and Eric did too. Boys.”
Callie shook her head and picked up another paper. With a little wave, she exited the arena.
I focused on the flyers and ended up with six mares that fit Ross’s guidelines. Back in the aisle, I found him and handed him the flyers. “These are mares that fit what you described,” I said. “If you need anything else, please let me know.”
“Thank you, Lauren,” Ross said. “I’ll go over these with Kelsey.”
He walked away, and I decided to give Jenn a couple more minutes. I moved out of the center of the aisle and stood next to a tack trunk in front of an empty stall. I wonder if that horse has been adopted!
“Laur.”
Cole reached my side, smiling. He looked parfait for the event. He’d paired a forest-green coat with a red wool sweater. Magnifique!
“Hey! How’s it going?”
“Amaze!” Cole said. His cheeks were flushed against his pale skin. “I showed an older mare to this retired guy who wanted a horse to basically just pet and love.” Cole laughed. “And act like a lawn mower.”
I giggled. “That’s so cool! I hope she gets adopted.”
“Me too.” Cole held up crossed fingers. “Oh, there he is with Lyssa. Later!”
I left my spot near the stall and walked over to Jenn.
“Just checking on you,” I said. “Are you interested in meeting any of the horses?”
“This guy, Alaric, grabbed my attention right away,” Jenn said. She held up the flyer with a photo of a black gelding with a white star on his forehead. “I’m familiar with tendinitis. Looks like Alaric’s case is too severe to race, but not bad enough that he can’t live a comfortable life romping around my fields.”
“Alaric’s a sweet guy,” I said. “I groomed him a few days ago. His stall is this way.”
Jenn followed me down the aisle. As we walked, I noticed more and more of the stall doors were open and the roomy stalls were empty. Please, please let those horses be adopted, I thought. Santa, that’s my wish this year.
We reached Alaric’s stall, and the four-year-old gelding’s head was over the door. He pricked his ears at Jenn and me. Alaric’s conformation was flawless, but it wasn’t his gorgeous features that made it easy to fall in love with him. It was his response to attention and his calm, curious demeanor.
“Oh, you’re a nice guy, huh?” Jenn crooned at Alaric as the gelding rubbed his forehead on Jenn’s shoulder.
“It amazes me how gentle and loving he is despite what he’s been through,” I said. “It makes me sick to think that someone was willing to almost give him away to a slaughterhouse.”
Jenn’s jaw tightened. “I can’t even stomach that thought,” she said. “People who use, abuse, and throw away animals are disgusting. I’m so grateful for Safe Haven and all of the organizations like it.”
“I wish every horse will get a home today, but I know that’s asking for a lot.”
Alaric lipped at Jenn’s sleeve, and she grinned before petting his neck.
“Try to remember that every horse who doesn’t find a home today will be safe here,” Jenn said. “There will be another chance for them.”
I nodded, Jenn’s words making me smile.
“Would you like to take Alaric out of his stall?” I asked. “We can find a quiet place for you to walk him around and get to know him.”
“I’d love to.”
I took a royal-blue cotton lead line from the hook near Alaric’s stall and clipped it to the ring under his chin. He backed up like a gentleman while I opened the stall door, then followed me out.
“He’s very easygoing,” I told Jenn. “Want to lead him?”
“Absolutely.”
I handed Alaric’s lead rope to Jenn. The Thoroughbred pranced beside her, and I stood back as Jenn led Alaric through several circles and figure eights. She halted him, picked up each hoof, and checked his teeth and ears.
“They’ve all been vetted prior to today,” I said. “Last week, they were shod and dewormed, too.”
“That’s great,” Jenn said. She smiled at me, but she only had eyes for Alaric.
He’s got a new home! I cheered in my head. Unless something completely unexpected happened, I just knew Jenn was going to take him. She was scratching under his chin, and the almost blue-black gelding flapped his lower lip.
Both Jenn and I laughed.
Jenn took her eyes off Alaric and met my gaze. “Where do I sign?” she asked.
“Really?! Oh, yay!” I clasped my hands together.
“I’m already in love with him,” Jenn said. “I hope I meet all of the qualifications.”
I stepped forward to pat Alaric’s neck. “I’m sure you will. If you can tear yourself away from him.” I grinned. “Lyssa, who’s standing at the first banquet table, is the person you need to see. She’ll get you the paperwork and go through the adoption process.”
“Thank you so much, Lauren,” Jenn said. “You’re an incredible volunteer. I can’t thank you enough for setting me up with Alaric.”
I blushed. “I just pulled the right paperwork. It’s an early Christmas present for all of us—especially you and Alaric.”
Jenn nodded and handed me the lead line. “I guess I’ll have to get a bigger tree to fit him under it.”
With that, Jenn squeezed my forearm and headed off to talk to Lyssa.
I threw my arms around Alaric’s neck, standing on my tiptoes to reach him. “Congratulations, beautiful boy! You’re going to your first real home. Jenn is going to spoil you and take such good care of you—I know it.”
I led Alaric back to his stall to await the final verdict from Lyssa. Something told me, though, that Alaric was going to have a very, very merry Christmas.