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GAIL WATCHED THE SPUNKY foal in the pasture while she waited for Dr. Gray to finish examining Penny. The foal turned and twisted every which way, kicking the empty air around him, pausing only to sniff and snort at the dandelions that edged the fence.
He was feisty most the time and the clumsiest foal she had ever seen, often tripping over his own feet—especially when Penny’s keening couldn’t be heard from the barn. But when he heard his mama, he stopped playing. It was like he remembered not everything was as it should be, that he was missing her. For now, Penny was silent as Dr. Gray examined her, leaving the foal to play in the morning sun.
“Have you named him yet?”
Gail glanced behind her at the sound of her daughter and smiled.
When Lexie moved to her side, Gail noticed her red-rimmed eyes, slightly swollen from crying. She looked sad and tired, and Gail wished she could make it better. But she couldn’t help Lexie with everything in life. It was the hardest lesson every mother had to learn.
“You know I’ve never been good with names. Took me the entire nine months to come up with Lexie and Phillip. Of course, your father was no help. He said that since I was the one who had to carry you along with me for nine months, it was only right that I name you.”
Lexie smiled. “Well, the poor little guy can’t keep going on nameless.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Gail said, but her mind had already moved on to other things. Her probing gaze slid over her daughter once more. “Have you talked to Elliot since the other night?”
After Lexie returned to dinner solo, Gail pulled her aside. Lexie told her what happened, but Gail had a feeling it was the condensed version of what was said outside on the front porch. She could only imagine...Poor Elliot and poor Lexie. Two broken hearts that needed each other, yet they just couldn’t seem to find a way.
Lexie sighed and leaned her arms against the rough wood of the fence, taking the brunt of her weight and pressure off her swollen feet. Her eyes were focused on the foal, but Gail had a feeling she was thinking only of Elliot.
“No.”
The simple answer wasn’t enough for Gail. She never was one to stay out of her children’s business. Why try now? “You need to talk to him. You are going to talk to him, aren’t you?”
Lexie looked over her shoulder at Gail and scowled. “Yes, Mom,” she said, exasperated. “But what do I say? Nothing I can say is gonna change anything. It is what it is.”
Gail rolled her eyes. “It is what it is,” she mocked. “You can change things you know, make things better.” She shook her head, frustrated. “You know, in my day, if a man wanted nothing more than to marry you and raise a child together, you were the luckiest woman in the world. He was heaven-sent.”
“Mom—”
“You need to talk to him, Alexis. He’s hurting. He loves you just like the rest of us, and he didn’t know you were giving up the baby, so what do you expect? Him to be elated at the news?”
Lexie turned fully towards Gail and threw her hands up in defeat. “No, but...I mean, I knew he’d be upset, that’s why I didn’t say anything, but I thought he’d be a little more understanding.”
Gail moved forward and braced her hands on Lexie’s shoulders, looking her square in the eye. Her voice was soft, but firm when she said, “I know you’ve been through a nightmare. None of us can entirely imagine how terrible these months have been, but you have to understand he has a right to be upset. Regardless of what happened, he has the right to be disappointed by the fact that you’re giving this child up. Because he loves you. He doesn’t have to simply understand. Nor does he have to be silent about the pain he’d feeling because of that decision. Whether it’s your decision to make isn’t up for a debate. Clearly it is. But that doesn’t make it any easier for the rest of us.”
She stepped back, dropping her hands, telling her daughter what she needed to hear. “It’s time for you to decide what you want, Lex. Once and for all, what do you want? No more running, no more hiding, or letting people choose for you. What do you want for your future? Is it him? A family?”
“I love him.”
Gail glanced off into the distance. “I know, but sometimes love doesn’t matter if that’s not the kind of life you want to lead. Do you want him? Do you want to build a life with him? A family? I suspect you already know the answers, but you need to dig deep and decide once and for all, so you can give him all of you, everything you have, or nothing at all. Because he wants one hundred percent of you, Lex. And he deserves it. You need to be fair to him—talk to him, tell him how you feel. Don’t let what you have slip away again. Love can easily slide into something you no longer recognize if you’re not careful.”
Gail peered into Lexie’s eyes, looking for a flicker of understanding, some recognition of what she said when Dr. Gray exited the barn and pulled her aside.
After talking briefly with him, Gail went back to where Lexie stood. A cloud of worry hovered over her.
“What is it? What’s wrong with Penny?” Lexie asked.
As if on cue, Penny started wailing from her stall in the barn. The sound was an awful keening, as hard on the ears as nails on a chalkboard, and as tough as Gail was, she had to fight from covering her ears. The pain emitting from the animal was just too unbearable.
Lexie glanced from Gail toward the direction of the barn and Dr. Gray’s fading form. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked again.
Gail shook her head and shrugged. “Doc said that nothing seems to be wrong. He doesn’t know why she’s wailing. Her mastitis is no worse, if anything it’s slowly getting better. He sees no physical reason for her to be crying so.”
Lexie looked out to the field, toward the foal. “Do you think she’s crying because they’re separated?”
Gail pursed her lips. She looked at Lexie when she turned to her. “I thought the same thing, but the doctor said “no.” According to him, he’s never heard of such a thing...but I have to wonder. I asked him about putting them back together, but because of how severe her reaction was with the infection and her kicking at the foal, he didn’t recommend a reunion just yet. He said that they were already separated, and the foal was doing just fine with a bottle, so there was no sense in a reunion.”
Gail followed Lexie’s gaze back out to the field. The foal had stopped his antics. He no longer kicked and jumped, frolicking around the pasture. Instead, he walked soberly toward the corner closest to the barn. His ears flattened on his head, occasionally twitching, as if the noise of his mother’s keening was as hard on him as it was on them.
“What are you thinking?” Gail asked.
Lexie hesitated, then whispered, “I was just thinking...” She paused, then cleared her throat. “Never mind. I think we should try putting them back together and see. We need to put the foal back in the stall with Penny.”
Gail nodded, though she knew her daughter had more on her mind than the foal.
Gail pursed her lips on an exhale, then said, “Okay, let’s try it.”
They steered the wily foal through the barn, then to the front of the stall. The mare’s mulling quieted when she heard their footsteps. Even more so when Gail unlatched the door.
With a glance at her daughter, Gail opened the door a couple of inches. Penny’s ears drew back ad she flicked her head wildly.
“Hey, there, girl. Easy now,” Gail murmured. “How ya doing? You feel okay now? Listen, we’re gonna let your baby boy in here with you, but you have to be good.” Gail smoothed a reassuring hand down Penny’s flank. “No kickin’ your baby. No thrashing around. I don’t care if he tries to eat.” She tugged on a lock of Penny’s chocolate mane, as if she meant business, but her eyes remained soft.
Gail turned around and nodded to Lexie, who slowly led the foal into the stall. They stood there watching for several moments, unsure of what to expect.
The foal stepped over to Penny’s face and gazed up at her with its big, doe eyes, and without a care in the world, he leaned his small coffee colored head into Penny’s downturned face and snorted. The foal bumped his head into his mama once more, eliciting a whinny from Penny, then moved beneath her wide neck and face to nuzzle her chest.
Penny’s tail swished in the quiet reunion. There was no longer the keening of a wounded animal.
Gail’s mouth hung open before curling upward in a grin. “I don’t believe it. I guess that’s what she wanted, after all.” She huffed a laugh, then glanced at Lexie, who stared at the pair intently, as if seeing them for the first time, her smile absent, frown in place, eyes shining.
Gail crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her pointedly, guessing what might be running through her head. “It seems the mother needed him. In fact, it looks like she needed him even more than he needed her—more than any of us realized.”
With that, Gail brushed a hand over her daughter’s hair, a soft, maternal gesture, and left her daughter to her thoughts.