“We wash up,” Kyle said.
“Exactly,” John answered. “We have to be fast but clean.” All of them disinfected their hands and arms at a deep sink in the next stall. They quickly wrapped the mare’s tail to keep it out of the way and then cleaned the hind end of the mare.
As they worked, John recalled the time Julie had helped him deliver a foal. Once when he was on call during veterinary training, they had been interrupted on a movie date by a call for John to assist with a foaling at a nearby farm. Instead of being disappointed, Julie had gone along to help. At the time, he had still been learning about horses, whereas she had grown up riding horses and working in stables, so she’d had far more hands-on experience with them than he had. She had assisted, coached him, and cheered him on through the whole process. Even in the horse stable with her hair messed up and straw sticking to her clothes, she’d looked beautiful to him. When he’d thanked her for being so understanding, she had winked and said, “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. This is where the magic happens.”
From then on, every time they’d faced an unexpected situation—a burnt roast, a flat tire, a broken water heater, a baby arriving two weeks early—it had been their private joke to say, “This is where the magic happens.” In truth, the magic had been anywhere they were together.
It took John, Kyle, and Stan working together to position the breech foal and bring it out of the mare quickly enough to save it. Then John had to clear away some mucus to get the newborn breathing. It was a difficult, messy process—and deeply satisfying, once the mare and foal were both out of danger.
With the foal safely delivered, John packed up his medical bag. For a breech birth, the process had gone even better than he could have hoped.
“Pretty amazing, right?” he said to Kyle.
“Yeah, it was. And she’s going to be okay now. And the foal?” Kyle asked.
“She knows exactly what to do. They’re both going to be just fine. Don’t you worry,” John said. He and Kyle stopped at another stall in the barn to visit Aragorn, the Arabian chestnut gelding that had belonged to Julie. He was well taken care of, and Julie would have loved knowing that Stan and Holly’s kids were learning to ride him. The horse nuzzled John’s face. Just being near Aragorn made John feel closer to Julie. He blinked away the sting of threatening tears and put his arm around Kyle, pulling him close. They were still petting the gelding’s nose when Stan joined them again.
“I was pretty worried before you got here,” Stan said. “Hey, John, could I have a word?”
“Of course. Kyle, why don’t you head to the truck. I’ll be there in a second.”
“I hate to do this,” Stan said, his voice low and apologetic, “but we’re a little bit short right now.”
“Stan, don’t worry about it,” John said. “It’s the holidays.” Stan and Holly were generous, compassionate people who shared their kindness with a family of six kids, two of whom were adopted. John could well imagine how expensive this time of year was for eight people. And they took such good care of Aragorn.
Stan looked relieved. “I will settle up with you in the new year.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, John.”
“You got it,” John said. He genuinely loved this time of year, and he didn’t want his friends to feel any pressure.
“In the meantime,” Stan said, “will you take one of Holly’s apple pies? She makes the best in the county.”
“We would love that,” John said. Julie had loved baking—bread, cookies, pies. He missed the aroma. He and the kids would enjoy a fresh homemade pie, especially at this time of year.
As they walked from the barn to the house to pick up the pie, John noticed it was snowing harder now. He would need to be especially careful driving. There were no streetlights on the road, and the temperature had fallen, so the roads would be slick. He would be glad when he and Kyle were safely home.
Chapter 8
“Wait a second,” Jennifer muttered, looking around for any kind of road sign. The area didn’t look like she had expected it to. On the other hand, she hadn’t really expected snow during her drive.
Holding the steering wheel with one hand, she picked up her smartphone with the other to consult its map. The phone was fully charged, but the GPS didn’t update to her location. That was disconcerting. “No, this is not where it’s supposed to be.” She traveled often, so she had the best phone on the market and the plan with the best reception nationwide. A few bars of reception flashed at the top of the screen—and disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. The message on her screen said Out of Service Range.
She held her phone higher and tried to cajole it. “Come on! I need reception. Come on, GPS!”
The dark asphalt of her unfamiliar path stood out against the white landscape as the snow accumulated on the surrounding dirt, grass, and trees. But the snow began falling faster than it could melt on the highway, and soon the skirling flakes left a layer of white on the road, obscuring her route. Under other conditions, she might have enjoyed the snow-covered stillness, but at the moment, she was too concerned about finding her way.
She checked her phone again, hoping for directions. Still nothing. By the time she looked up from her phone, it was too late. She was headed straight for a sharp bend in the road. With a gasp, she yanked the wheel and swerved, but missed the turn.
The coupe careened off the edge of the road and down a snowy embankment.
No! Jennifer’s muscles clenched, and she held her breath. Her heart hammered. This couldn’t be happening. For a moment, she could only see the pale flakes whirling past. The coupe bounced and jolted, and then the headlights showed a flash of snow-covered trees rushing up to meet the car. She cried out and held up one arm in an effort to protect herself from the collision. The world went dark.
She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. When she became aware again, it took her several minutes to decide what to do. It was so hard to focus. She couldn’t recall quite how she had gotten here. Or where “here” was. She only knew she was in. And she felt an urgent need to be out.
She pushed the door open and climbed out of the crashed vehicle in a daze. Her feet felt cold and sank into something soft beneath her, but the information barely registered. Impressions flashed through her mind: bright lights stabbing out of the darkness at her eyes, a pale world weaving strangely around her, a feeling of flight that came to an abrupt halt.
She stood still, but the landscape continued to spin around her. Black static danced across her vision. She gasped in a few breaths and tried to focus straight ahead of her: a white slope. Upward. I need to go upward, she thought. She wasn’t quite clear on why, but she began to crawl laboriously up the hill. She felt cold and wet. She panted with the effort. Upward. At last, she came to a broad, flat area at the top of the slope, and she stumbled gratefully onto the level ground.
John drove the pickup truck while Kyle held the apple pie on his lap and pretended to take a bite. John kept a careful eye on the road. He was used to this kind of weather and knew better than to let down his guard.
“How’s that pie?” he asked, breathing in the aroma of baked apples, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
Kyle grinned. “Still warm.”
John