Hopes by Linda Chapman Page A

Mom and Dad were away as usual and I had to make the decision to put her down.” He shook his head, lost in his memories. “I could have kept her alive for a week longer but I had to do what was best for her.”
    Ellie didn’t speak. She realized there was so much she still didn’t know about Luke.
    Luke’s eyes met hers. “I know it won’t feel like it now, but you made the right choice,” he said gently.
    “You stopped him from having to suffer any more. Sometimes that’s all we can do.”
    Ellie turned away. It might have been the right choice, but knowing that didn’t help the despair inside.
    Luke squeezed her shoulder. “Come down when you’re ready. But don’t worry about the yard—we can manage without you today.”
    She held the tears in until he left. Then burying her head in her hands she cried.
    Look for me and I’ll be there.
    She heard the echo of Spirit’s voice so clearly it was almost as though he was really talking to her.
    But you’re not! she thought. Oh, Spirit, you’re not! Her sobs wracked through her. She just wanted him back.
    Ellie didn’t come out of her bedroom until the afternoon. She felt almost as if all the crying had anesthetized her. She walked on to the yard. Looking at the usual things going on—horses being groomed, ridden, the yards being swept—Ellie felt a wave of disbelief. It was almost impossible to her that everything could be going on as normal when Spirit was dead. The world should have stopped. She felt a sudden longing for Joe. Luke had been great but she wanted Joe there too, wanted his sympathy, his companionship.
    Bracing herself, Ellie walked down to Spirit’s stable. It was just as it had been when he had left it that morning. The fleece rug was thrown over his manger. Automatically, Ellie refolded it and made it look neat. Then she took his untouched haynet down.
    Closing her eyes, she fought for control. The air of the stable seemed to smell of him. She breathed it in. She could almost imagine that she would open her eyes and see him standing there.
    She stood there for a long moment before she opened her eyes and looked around the empty stable. Fighting back the tears that suddenly prickled again, she picked up the rug and left.
    When the horsebox came driving down the lane later that afternoon, Luke told Ellie to go inside. “I’ll deal with Len.”
    “No.” Ellie had a feeling that Luke was going to be in real trouble for digging the grave in the field. “I’m not letting you face him on your own.”
    “And I’m not letting you stay. You don’t need to hear this conversation.” Luke steered her to the house. “Please. Go inside. You’re upset. You’re not in a fit state for a fight with Len. Go.”
    Ellie hesitated, unused to letting herself be bossed around. But something deep down told her Luke was right. She was at the limits of her strength—she could not face her uncle right then. She looked into Luke’s blue eyes and knew he’d be OK. “Thanks.”
    Luke smiled at her capitulation, one of his first smiles of the day. “I’ll come and find you when the worst is over.”
    Ellie slipped up to her room. Sitting on her window seat, she watched as Len arrived back, saw his face as Luke told him the news—a brief nod as he told him about Spirit, a look of incredulity and anger as Luke told him about digging Spirit’s grave.
    Ellie could hear her uncle’s bellow from all the way up in her bedroom. He let out a stream of swear words.
    Luke stood unbothered as Len ranted and raged at him. He simply stood there with his arms folded, taking it.
    Ellie didn’t want to hear any more. She left the window seat and went to the bed. Lying down, she stared at the white painted ceiling. The pain came bowling back. Spirit was dead. However much Len raged about it, Spirit’s body was now lying in the grave Luke had dug, the fresh soil dark and brown against the green of the grass. Her life would never be the same. Ellie turned on to her