He sighed. This condo was full of ghosts. His sister was right. It was time to put it all behind him. Perhaps he should sell the place and start over somewhere else.
As a midnight resolution, he figured it wasn’t bad. Maybe then, he’d stop having dreams about phantom females with silver eyes.
* * *
Zach was not usually a coffee guy, but after a long day in the city, he made himself a strong batch.
The reality was, he had zero idea how to make coffee. Strong was just how it always came out. Today, he needed it.
Jessie and the other women had been missing for twenty days. It was long past time to stop. But... he kept seeing eyes the color of moonlight. And they pleaded with him not to give up.
Two cups of coffee left him jittery as hell and uncharacteristically clumsy. He bumped into the teapot on the counter, knocking it to the floor. It shattered into tiny pieces. He swept them up, then scrounged from the fridge and made himself a fried egg sandwich.
It didn’t help. His head was a jumbled mess of leftover emotions. He couldn’t tell where his began and the others ended. Was he losing his mind?
Feeding the horses was a chore he usually enjoyed. Today, it was just something that must be done.
Zach had covered half the distance to the corral when a familiar Jeep pulled into the yard. The engine shut down, and a woman got out.
He had always found her age impossible to judge, his best guess was sixty or so. Her hair glittered from the shiny beads and crystals woven into the long braids. The occasional strand of black ran through gray so pale it was almost white. Coppery-brown skin hinted at Indigenous blood, and laugh wrinkles lined the corners of her eyes and mouth.
Her eyes were as blue as a summer sky. All that was good in the world reflected in those eyes.
Zach was fond of Cara. She was the closest thing to a mother he had left and a good friend to boot. He’d met her over two years ago at a horse auction where he’d found the big gelding currently in his corral. That day, Zach discovered Cara Saunders had a rare ability—she could sneak up on him. No mean feat as Zach usually sensed people coming. He’d been so startled that he barely registered her name.
She stated she was a regular financial contributor to local animal rescues. And after querying Zach as to his intentions with the big gelding, she’d asked if he had room for a small, spotted donkey.
Somewhat bewildered, he’d said yes.
So, as he began the long road to retraining the gelding—now named Tucker—he ended up with unexpected help. In the form of a diminutive older woman, who plunked a lawn chair beneath his half-dead crabapple tree, scratching her donkey and offering advice as he struggled.
With Tucker, Zach appreciated her insight. Tucker was calm and confident with other horses, but around people he was a mess. His fear and insecurity blocked any attempts to understand what was being asked of him. Zach had to break things down into small, careful pieces, and keep close tabs on the horse’s mental state.
He soon discovered that Cara’s calm energy never changed. Zach found himself relaxing around her, and the horses did too. Tucker loved her. The big goof would stand with his head pressed to her chest and his eyes half closed as she stroked his ears.
She even worked her magic on the crabapple tree. It pushed out hopeful new branches.
One morning, Cara had brought him Spike.
“Poor fellow needs a home,” she said. “Thought you could use the company.”
With Cara in action, Zach figured he’d never be lonely. He contended daily with her other opinionated animal. From the very beginning, Willow made a determined bid to be a house donkey. If such a thing existed.
As the months passed, Cara continued to provide commentary and encouragement from her lawn-chair perch. With Tucker, Zach needed it. Sometimes he despaired that he wouldn’t ever get through to the big horse.
“He’s getting there,” Cara said one evening. “Animals accomplish the impossible. They interpret what we want from them, without understanding a word of our spoken language. You’re reaching him. He’s starting to understand.”
Zach absorbed what she’d said. He hadn’t thought of it that way before.
Seeing his expression, Cara laughed. “If the situation was reversed, many humans wouldn’t have a hope.”
He’d come to value Cara Saunders’ wisdom. Two years later, he had trouble remembering what his life had been like before she’d arrived in it.
Now, Cara walked toward him with her eyes fastened on the horses in the corral. The older woman moved so gracefully, it always seemed that she swayed to a silent song. Every gesture was smooth, her hands and fingers elegantly expressive. She often hummed to herself, music he’d never heard before but that he found beautiful. The crystals braided into her hair even chimed as they brushed against each other.
The entire effect was soothing.
He glanced over to the crabapple tree. His unofficial assistant had long since been granted a bench. The old tree was now in full and spectacular bloom. Zach no longer worried that he’d have to cut it down.
