Ashley finished reading her brother’s letter, then let the two pieces of paper drop to the table, understanding at last what her mom had meant about Dylan’s depression. Her heart broke for him at the same time that anger roiled within. Anger at the boy who had served Dylan his first beer. Anger at the dealer who had sold him his first illegal drugs. Anger at the doctor who had written that first prescription for a painkiller and all the other health providers who had continued to write opioid scripts, even when it was obvious to a blind man that Dylan knew how to play the system.
Anger at Dylan for . . . for everything.
She pushed away from the table, rose, and went outside. Speed and Jack rushed by her in search of a squirrel or some other ground creature to bedevil. Ashley ignored the dogs and headed straight for Remington’s pen. She slipped between the rails, wrapped her arms around the mare’s neck, and pressed her forehead against the sun-warmed coat. It felt welcoming to her. She breathed deeply, waiting for calm to replace anger. It took awhile, but eventually it worked. Being with a horse usually did.
She drew back and looked at Remington. “At least I can trust you.”
People failed people. It happened all the time. People even failed the people they loved. A fact of life. Dylan might not ever get sober. He might never do the right thing. He might go on failing their mom. He might go on failing her. He might never be the boy he’d once been or the man she’d hoped he would become.
People failed people. Horses didn’t. Horses never lied.
Ashley drew in a long, slow breath and released it. “Is that why I don’t let myself have many friends?”
Remington blinked.
It was true. Ashley rarely let someone get emotionally close to her. At first, it had been to avoid embarrassment. During her high school years, she couldn’t ask other kids over to her house because she never knew what her brother might do or say or what shape he might be in. It reminded her of that slogan about addiction and secrets. She didn’t know it exactly because she’d never been truly involved in Al-Anon. She’d only attended a few meetings with her mom. Not that the meetings had done her mom much good either. But the “secrets” part she remembered, and she knew it was true. She’d kept a lot of them about her brother, about the state of their home life, about the time Dylan had blacked her eye, about the things he’d stolen—stolen from her and their mom as well as from others.
And the one time she’d let someone get closer than most, he’d—
Remington huffed. The sound seemed a confirmation to Ashley’s dour thoughts, and she laughed. Better to laugh than to cry.
“I shouldn’t let it get to me this way.”
The mare huffed again, this time adding a bob of her head.
“And I do have friends.”
There was Ruth for one . . . and Ben for another. Ben. It was unexpected, the way she’d let him into her life, despite lessons from her past urging her to be cautious. She’d liked him from their very first meeting. Trust had come more reluctantly, but it had come, along with an understanding that a special friendship had blossomed between them.
Why is that?
With another steadying breath, she slipped out of the enclosure.
* * *
The certified equine therapy instructor, Emily Cooper, paid her second visit to the Henning farm on Monday evening. The first visit, a few weeks earlier, had solidified her willingness to work with Ben, based on the recommendation of their mutual friend, Larry Dennis. This second visit was a more in-depth facility inspection.
Emily was in her thirties, tall and reed thin with long, straight red hair and a pale complexion. She wore a sleeveless top, skinny jeans, and boots that had seen better days. Like Ashley Showalter, Emily knew her way around horses and tack. Ben hung back and let her do her thing, staying just close enough to answer questions if any were asked. None were. When Emily finished, the two of them walked to the porch. They sat and discussed the timetable for opening the barn, first to the volunteers and then to clients.
“The website will be operational in a couple of days,” Ben told her.
“Who’s doing it for you?”
“I’m doing it myself, with help from a friend in my men’s group.”
Emily tipped her head slightly to one side, giving him a close look. “You’ve got lots of people helping you with the program, don’t you?”
He paused to consider her comment, realizing how true it was. Too often he’d focused on the number of refusals he’d received. He needed to get better at focusing on the good news. “Yeah. I do at that.”
“It says a lot about you, Ben. I can tell you this: Larry thinks highly of you.”
“It’s mutual. They don’t come any better than Larry.”
“Well . . .” She stood. “I’d better get on my way.”
He got up from his chair.
She offered her hand. “I’m glad to be a part of the Harmony Barn. I think we’re going to do good work together.”
“I think you’re right, Emily. I think you’re right.”
She started to walk away, then stopped. “You should think about holding a fund-raiser while the weather’s still good. You’re set up enough for folks to get a good idea of what you hope to accomplish with the barn.”
“I have a couple of donors lined up, but I wasn’t planning on holding any fund-raisers until spring. Or at least not until we have our first sessions planned.”
“Sooner rather than later, I think. Even before you’re holding sessions, you’re going to have expenses crop up. There’ll be vet bills for sure, and you already know the insurance will be high. I don’t doubt that you’ll get the volunteers you need or that the right horses will come your way. But fund-raising is a part of a nonprofit like yours. You might as well get used to it now.” She smiled. “If you need me, I’ll be glad to help.”
As Ben watched Emily Cooper drive away in her pale-blue SUV, his first thought was to call Ashley and tell her about this second meeting with the instructor and Emily’s suggestion about the fund-raiser this fall. Ashley would respond with enthusiasm, as usual. She would be ready to jump in and help. She would rejoice with him over how much closer he was to starting the program than he’d been when he first called upon her, asking for help with finding horses. That had been only a month ago, but it felt as if he and Ashley had been friends for years instead of weeks.
Yesterday he’d been tempted to kiss her, which would have changed their relationship from friendship into something else. Not wise. He wasn’t in the market for a romantic relationship. He’d steered clear of them since getting sober. He’d seen them derail other guys in the program. He didn’t mean to be among them. Besides, all he had to do was imagine an introduction between some nice young woman and his mom to put a damper on any desire for something more serious. Any woman with a lick of sense would run away the minute she met Wendy Henning and felt the barbs of her tongue.
Although, to be fair, Ashley was a nice young woman, and she hadn’t been intimidated by his mom. At the memory, a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. She had a backbone, that one, while at the same time she was kind. A nice combination.
He gave his head a shake, trying to dislodge thoughts of Ashley. Better to focus on work. There were plenty of things he needed to get done before he called it a day.