12

Can’t

For the next couple of weeks, I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop crying. I can’t be nice to anybody. I can’t play ball with Ethan or make up rhymes with Dad. When Mom drags me to the cat farm with her, I can’t even pet the stray cats. They run away from me.

At night I still ask God to bless everybody. But God feels far away. So does my family. I’m living in the same house with them, but it’s like I’m on the other side of the universe. Alone.

Every morning the first thing I do when I wake up is open my window and wait for Dream. But of course she doesn’t come. I know she won’t. She can’t. Yet I can’t stop opening the window for her.

Annika calls us almost every day to tell us how Dream is doing. I can’t bear to talk to her. But sometimes when she’s on the line with my parents, I listen on the extension. Once she described to Mom how she went to Winnie the Horse Gentler’s website and copied a recipe for a horse treat with apples and molasses. She made it and gave it to Dream. Dream loved it. Annika even calls Dream “Dream”—at least in her phone calls.

Another time Annika leaves a message on the answering machine: “You really should come and watch Grayson try to catch Dream, Ellie. It’s pretty funny. That pinto is so smart—a lot smarter than my cousin. And when Grayson does get Dream and saddles her for a ride, it’s even funnier. He can’t get Dream to do anything he wants. He’s gotten her to walk a couple of times. But she won’t trot or canter for him. And don’t worry. Mom told Grayson he’s not allowed to use spurs or a whip or a quirt or anything. So he usually gives up pretty quick.”

Colt calls every day and asks me to come over and ride Bullet. He pleads with me to help him work on barrel racing. Sometimes he calls to see if I want to ride double and go on a breakfast ride, like we used to do with Bullet and Dream.

Only there’s no way. It would hurt too much to do those things without Dream.

One Saturday Colt shows up at my house before I’m even out of bed. He almost begs me to go to horsemanship practice with him. Cassie and Rashawn both called me the night before. Even Mr. Harper got in on it. He called and talked to Mom, trying to get her to make me go to practice.

But I can’t do that. I can’t do anything.

On my third Friday night without Dream, I can’t sleep. I lie in bed but kick off my covers. The moon shines through my window, right where Dream used to stick her head in.

Finally I climb out of bed and walk to the window. I stare out at the too-tall grass. Dream kept our yard in good shape. The grass never got too long.

I sit on my windowsill, then swing my legs over and jump down. It’s not much of a jump. Pinto Cat trots up and rubs against my legs. She purrs, then goes back to the lean-to. She misses Dream too.

I stroll through the backyard, where I can still smell Dream. There’s not a thing I can do to get her back . . . except pray.

God, I can’t do this. I can’t stop hurting. I can’t do anything to end this nightmare.

But I know You can. You could have stopped this from happening. You could have kept Grayson from seeing Larissa’s blog. You could have kept them from coming to claim Dream. You could have made them leave my horse alone. You could have let Dream stay right here. With me, where she belongs. Instead, You let them take her away.

I’ve wandered deep into my backyard. When Dream was here, this was my favorite spot in the whole world. Now the yard feels empty. And I feel alone.

Only I’m not alone. I know Mom and Dad are a shout away. Ethan is as close as a wave of my hand.

But there’s more to it than that.

In my heart, I silently tell God, I know You’re here. After everything else is gone, You’ll still be here—so close I don’t even have to say words out loud.

I gaze up at the half-moon surrounded by blinking stars. It looks like they’re speaking sign language. Or star language. And I’m grateful that my God really isn’t far away someplace, beyond the moon and the stars. You’re here. You’re inside of me. You’re closer than close.

And I think maybe that’s the secret. Maybe that’s what Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, and Ethan all knew. Whatever happens, we’ll be okay because God will be there. No matter what goes away, God won’t. And even if I cry myself to sleep every night for the rest of my life, I won’t be by myself. God will be there with me—if I’m in my bed, in a fiery furnace, or in an empty backyard.