the middle of stupid Minnesota.
Not about—
Another white line forked across the sky. I caught a flash of sagging porch and Mom’s hand clenched around that stupid birthstone necklace before darkness reclaimed them. It couldn’t reclaim my spark of intuition.
“Are you trying to say things aren’t always the way they appear? What, Mom? What isn’t how it appears?”
Boards creaked and thunder rumbled, but there was no reply.
No reply. Right. Just like there was nothing I could say to change anything. Still, I took a grim satisfaction in correcting her. “You don’t even have your facts right. Not everyone sees lightning from the bottom up. I don’t.”
Before I could head inside, something interrupted my brilliant exit.
I cocked my head. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“A noise. From the barn.” Over the patter of rain, I’d heard it.
Clank.
“There it goes again.”
Mom was on her feet in an instant. Barefoot, she raced for the front door, shoving it open so hard that the bottom smacked the doorstop and bounced back. She darted inside and reemerged seconds later, wielding the giant Maglite she stashed in a kitchen drawer for emergencies. Weapon in hand, she leaped off the porch and ran for the barn.
“Mom?” When she didn’t look back, I sprinted after her, my feet slapping the wet path while muddy water squished between my toes. I rounded the corner of our guesthouse in time to see Mom reach the oversized barn door, to hear the nickers and snorts that burst within at her arrival. Louder than usual.
Someone had left the door ajar.
My neck prickling, I pulled up behind Mom as she yanked the door open.
“Hello?” she called out, flipping on the light.
Her voice echoed back through the rafters, as even-keeled as ever. But in her right hand, the super-long, super-heavy Maglite was clenched and at the ready. Shoulder level, like a baseball bat.
Nothing but silence followed, except for the intermittent raindrops that drummed against the vaulted roof. And then a high-pitched whinny, and straw rustling under restless hooves.
Mom took four careful steps inside, half crouched like some kind of jungle cat. I knew I shouldn’t be surprised, that Mom was ultra-capable under any circumstance. Still, the transformation from mild-mannered veterinarian to prowling tiger was a little terrifying. Why would a few strange noises make her react this way?
Everything seemed normal. The sweet-sour smell of hay and horse bodies mingled into its familiar musk. The rowsof pine stalls on either side of the empty corridor looked as tidy as ever, and the stall doors were all closed, as they should be. Since we tended to leave the green-barred windows open, a few inquisitive horse heads poked out over the tops. Also normal.
And yet…there was almost no way Mom had forgotten to latch that door. Not after the mini-lecture I’d gotten when we first moved here. Plus she was so vigilant about locking the guesthouse, you’d think we stored diamonds in our beds.
Mom peered over her shoulder and spotted me. I could see fear in the wide blue eyes behind her rain-splotched glasses, in the way she stabbed a finger toward the door.
“Outside,” she mouthed.
I clenched my jaw and shook my head, even though squeezing air into my ever-tightening lungs had become tricky. No way was I leaving her here, to deal with… whatever …on her own.
I must have had my determined face on, because she didn’t bother with a second hopeless attempt to send me fleeing. Instead she motioned me toward the stalls on the right side of the corridor, while she crept to the left.
She leaned her upper body into the open window of the first stall, looking for what, I didn’t know. But her paranoia was contagious. Feeling wound up enough to explode at the slightest sound, I peered into the first stall on my side.Gentle Jim’s quarters. When the big roan gelding saw me, he lumbered over and nosed me in the forehead, hoping I’d slip him a
Not about—
Another white line forked across the sky. I caught a flash of sagging porch and Mom’s hand clenched around that stupid birthstone necklace before darkness reclaimed them. It couldn’t reclaim my spark of intuition.
“Are you trying to say things aren’t always the way they appear? What, Mom? What isn’t how it appears?”
Boards creaked and thunder rumbled, but there was no reply.
No reply. Right. Just like there was nothing I could say to change anything. Still, I took a grim satisfaction in correcting her. “You don’t even have your facts right. Not everyone sees lightning from the bottom up. I don’t.”
Before I could head inside, something interrupted my brilliant exit.
I cocked my head. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“A noise. From the barn.” Over the patter of rain, I’d heard it.
Clank.
“There it goes again.”
Mom was on her feet in an instant. Barefoot, she raced for the front door, shoving it open so hard that the bottom smacked the doorstop and bounced back. She darted inside and reemerged seconds later, wielding the giant Maglite she stashed in a kitchen drawer for emergencies. Weapon in hand, she leaped off the porch and ran for the barn.
“Mom?” When she didn’t look back, I sprinted after her, my feet slapping the wet path while muddy water squished between my toes. I rounded the corner of our guesthouse in time to see Mom reach the oversized barn door, to hear the nickers and snorts that burst within at her arrival. Louder than usual.
Someone had left the door ajar.
My neck prickling, I pulled up behind Mom as she yanked the door open.
“Hello?” she called out, flipping on the light.
Her voice echoed back through the rafters, as even-keeled as ever. But in her right hand, the super-long, super-heavy Maglite was clenched and at the ready. Shoulder level, like a baseball bat.
Nothing but silence followed, except for the intermittent raindrops that drummed against the vaulted roof. And then a high-pitched whinny, and straw rustling under restless hooves.
Mom took four careful steps inside, half crouched like some kind of jungle cat. I knew I shouldn’t be surprised, that Mom was ultra-capable under any circumstance. Still, the transformation from mild-mannered veterinarian to prowling tiger was a little terrifying. Why would a few strange noises make her react this way?
Everything seemed normal. The sweet-sour smell of hay and horse bodies mingled into its familiar musk. The rowsof pine stalls on either side of the empty corridor looked as tidy as ever, and the stall doors were all closed, as they should be. Since we tended to leave the green-barred windows open, a few inquisitive horse heads poked out over the tops. Also normal.
And yet…there was almost no way Mom had forgotten to latch that door. Not after the mini-lecture I’d gotten when we first moved here. Plus she was so vigilant about locking the guesthouse, you’d think we stored diamonds in our beds.
Mom peered over her shoulder and spotted me. I could see fear in the wide blue eyes behind her rain-splotched glasses, in the way she stabbed a finger toward the door.
“Outside,” she mouthed.
I clenched my jaw and shook my head, even though squeezing air into my ever-tightening lungs had become tricky. No way was I leaving her here, to deal with… whatever …on her own.
I must have had my determined face on, because she didn’t bother with a second hopeless attempt to send me fleeing. Instead she motioned me toward the stalls on the right side of the corridor, while she crept to the left.
She leaned her upper body into the open window of the first stall, looking for what, I didn’t know. But her paranoia was contagious. Feeling wound up enough to explode at the slightest sound, I peered into the first stall on my side.Gentle Jim’s quarters. When the big roan gelding saw me, he lumbered over and nosed me in the forehead, hoping I’d slip him a
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