23 
23 Sasha
I MADE MY WAY BACK from a trailer where I’d helped load my first adopted horse. I felt like I was floating across the driveway. I’d seen at least three other horses loaded into trailers, and it was barely eleven. There were still at least a dozen people talking to volunteers, filling out paperwork, or talking to a coordinator and getting to know a horse.
I spotted Lauren—her smile couldn’t have been wider. She walked out of the stable next to a black gelding led by a beaming older girl. The horse’s legs had been wrapped for travel. A warm red-and-black-checkered blanket was buckled at his chest, covering him from withers to rump.
“Good news?” I asked, slowing and smiling at her and the other girl.
“Fantastic news!” Lauren said. “This is Jenn, and she adopted Alaric.” Lauren placed a hand on the gelding’s neck as Jenn drew him to a halt.
“Congratulations!” I said to Jenn. “I’ve learned how seriously Safe Haven takes matching its horses to the right people. I’m sure you’re going to be very happy with your new horse.”
The black gelding held his head high. His giant brown eyes were wide and warm. There was something about the star on his forehead that made me smile.
“I love him already,” Jenn said.
Alaric bumped Jenn’s arm with his muzzle. “I think he already knows that,” I said, laughing along with Jenn and Lauren.
“Happy holidays,” I said to Jenn. “And the same to you, Mr. Alaric.” I touched the gelding’s muzzle, then gave Lauren a thumbs-up when Jenn started to lead Alaric forward.
Omigod! Lauren mouthed.
I waved, grinning at her, and looked for anyone who might need help. Near the application table, Jacob and Paige were stapling applications. They kept passing the stapler back and forth—almost unable to keep up with the papers Lyssa kept handing them.
A gray-haired man in jeans and a puffy green coat stood in front of the corkboard at the wall at the entrance of the stable. The board had photos of all of the horses available for adoption. Brit had been one of the volunteers who had helped arrange the photos. The board was decorated with garland along the top edge, and the cork had been sprayed with green and gold glitter before the pictures had been glued onto the board.
“Hello,” I said, walking up to the man. “I’m Sasha, a volunteer with Safe Haven. Do you have any questions that I might be able to help you with?”
He turned to me, wrinkles forming around his kind brown eyes as he smiled at me. “Hello, Sasha,” he said. “Nice to meet you. My name is Tedd Orson.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Orson,” I said. “How can I help you?”
Mr. Orson ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Please call me Tedd,” he said.
“Tedd,” I said, smiling.
“Honestly, I’m not here to adopt a horse,” Tedd said. “I want to contribute to Safe Haven in another way, and I wondered if you could help me with that.”
“I’d be more than happy to,” I said. There was just something about Tedd that made me feel as though I needed to speak to him away from the commotion of everything going on around us. “If it’s okay with you, we can go to one of the quiet, private offices and speak.”
Immediately his shoulders dropped, and he nodded. “Please.”
Once we were inside Lyssa’s office, I half closed the door and motioned for Tedd to take a seat in one of the chairs across from Lyssa’s desk. I pulled a chair away from the wall and sat across from him, grabbing a notebook and pen from Lyssa’s desk.
“I’ve been meaning to come to this event for almost a decade,” Tedd said. “I’m afraid I’ve been too much of a coward.”
I didn’t know what to say. Or do. This was not anything at all like what I’d expected him to say.
“Well,” I said after a pause. “You are here today. That certainly counts.”
Tedd looked at his lap for several seconds and cleared his throat. “My wife used to be an equestrian,” he said.
“Oh,” I said. “Are you?”
“No,” Tedd said quickly—almost harshly. “I mean, I was, but I’m not any longer.” His tone softened. “Ten years ago, my wife died in a riding accident.”
I sucked in a breath so fast that it made a tiny whoosh noise. “Oh my gosh. I am so sorry.”
Tedd nodded. “Thank you, Sasha. I’m sorry too, not only for the loss of my wife, but of my behavior since her passing. My wife was a passionate equestrian who loved everything about horses. She couldn’t spend a day without them. She taught me to love them too.”
He smiled, and I forced myself to smile despite the deep sadness I felt.
“My wife was killed during what had always been a routine cross-country ride,” Tedd said.
The pain in his face and eyes was visible.
“Sir,” I said. “Please don’t feel that you have to explain. I can’t imagine how painful that must be.”
Tedd’s eyes met mine. “I appreciate your kindness. It’s time, though, that I tell my wife’s story. I haven’t spoken of it since the year it happened, and I became somewhat frozen in time. Hopefully, today, that stops.”
I nodded. “I understand,” I said.
“My wife, Hillary, was riding her favorite mare on, like I mentioned, a familiar course at our stable,” Tedd continued. “I wasn’t jumping, but I followed my wife along the course to exercise my own gelding and spend time with my wife.” He cleared his throat again. “Hillary and her mare approached the second-to-last obstacle—a fallen tree. I don’t know why, but her mare refused the jump. Hillary was caught off guard, and she went over the tree and landed on the other side.”
I covered my mouth and bit the inside of my cheek. It would not help if I cried. It didn’t seem right to interject with another “I’m sorry,” either.
“I dismounted and ran to her,” Tedd said, his eyes glazed over. It was as if he was back on that course. “She was unconscious. At the hospital, she was found to have a broken neck and brain damage. She had to be on life support and was in a coma for a week before I let her go.”
Tedd shifted in his seat.
“Mr. Olson, I can’t even begin to pretend to understand what you must be going through,” I said. “It must be incredibly difficult to be at the stable.”
“It’s easier than I thought,” Tedd said. “I sat in my car for a long time before coming in. But once I was here, I felt a sense of calm. Hillary would want me to be here. Since her passing, I’ve erased horses from my life. I’m not in a place of mind to own a horse today, or maybe ever, but I would like to offer a monetary contribution to Safe Haven.”
“I obviously didn’t know your wife, but I’m sure this is something she would be incredibly proud of you for doing,” I said. “Please know that whatever amount you give will go one hundred percent to the animals in Safe Haven’s care. We do not charge adoption fees—we only ask adopters to contribute what they are able. Your donation is so appreciated.”
Tedd reached into his coat and produced an envelope. He handed it to me. “Sasha, I cannot thank you enough for listening to me. I’m thankful that you approached me and were so kind to hear me speak of Hillary.”
“I’m truly honored that you shared something so personal with me,” I said. “Thank you so much for your donation. May I send a thank-you note to the address on the check?”
Tedd stood, a genuine smile on his face. “You’re welcome, although I actually owe this organization a thank-you. The address is actually from my company—not my home. I’d like to keep my donation known to as few people as possible.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I said. “I promise.”
“And I promise to be back next year.”
I saw Tedd to his car and walked back to Lyssa’s office. I found the ledger we were supposed to use to record donations. I wrote anonymous in one of the spaces. There were dozens of other listings for ten, twenty, one hundred dollars—they all added up. I slid open the envelope and took out a blue check.
I read the amount of the check again. And again. And again.
One hundred thousand dollars.
“Tedd,” I said out loud. “Thank you. I know, somehow, that Hillary’s proud.”
Hours later I gathered in the arena with the rest of the Safe Haven volunteers. Lyssa, standing on a mounting block just as she’d done the first day, held the donations ledger in her hand. She had mud flecks on her boots, tendrils of hair had escaped from her ponytail, and she looked happy but exhausted.
“Please, everyone,” Lyssa said. “Give yourselves a round of applause!”
Cheers broke out in the arena. I clapped and grinned at Paige, who stood next to me. Lauren was on my other side. Somehow, the Canterwood group always managed to come together whenever possible. I’d really gotten to like having the younger students around. I hoped that wouldn’t change once we got back to Canterwood.
“Today we broke a record for the number of adoptions,” Lyssa said. “We found homes for twenty-two horses! That’s nearly half of our horses who were up for adoption.”
“Yeah!” someone whooped from the other side of the arena.
We clapped again. That number was fantastic! I hadn’t known what to expect, but twenty-two horses going to loving homes was beyond exciting.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better group of volunteers,” Lyssa said. “I sincerely thank each and every one of you for your time, energy, and efforts that you have put into these last couple of weeks.”
Lyssa held up the red ledger. “This,” she continued, “has all of the financial contributions we received this holiday season.” She motioned to someone and stepped down from the mounting block.
Quinn took Lyssa’s place. “Hi, everyone, I’m Quinn,” she said. “I tallied up the ledger, and no one except for me knows the total of the donations we received.”
She grinned, looking down at Lyssa. “This year, Safe Haven for Thoroughbreds received one hundred nine thousand dollars.”
“What?” Lyssa’s shriek echoed throughout the arena.
I smiled to myself. I hadn’t told anyone—not even my friends—about Tedd. I wasn’t planning on sharing his story either. It was something Tedd had trusted to me, and I planned to keep it to myself and be able to look Tedd in the eye next year, knowing I’d done the right thing.
“I didn’t miscalculate,” Quinn said, laughing. “Someone, who chose to remain anonymous, donated one hundred thousand dollars, making that our single largest donation ever.”
“Wow,” Paige said. “That’s incredible!”
“It’s amazing,” I agreed.
“One hundred percent of all the money raised goes right to the care of these horses,” Quinn said. “I don’t want to keep you here any longer. I know you must be as tired as I am. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, from all of us at Safe Haven. I hope you all have a very, very merry Christmas!”