Part 4: 9 - Rising
The forecast is getting sticky
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Nine-year-old Dani makes a fervent promise that there will always be horses in her life, so when she finds out her next-door neighbor won a scholarship to an exclusive horsemanship program, she vows to win one too. She never gets the chance—but her short life has a lasting effect on a community.
Last week: Part 4: 8 - Can’t Let Go • Barb is pulled toward the past
Part 4 | This Storm is Called Progress
9 - Rising
Maeve Allen
March 22, 2023
Dehesa Valley, California
As soon as the sun crept over the eastern hills, Maeve was up. Rising from bed, she picked up her cane, threw a barn coat over her shoulders, and slipped her feet into the duckies outside the back door. Molly bounced after her, making huffing noises through her lips around a tennis ball, always at the ready just in case. It hadn’t taken long for the lab to get used to life at Allen Haven Ranch. As long as there was someone to feed her and throw a ball for her now and then, she was happy. But Maeve was still not at home, not without Todd, especially in the evenings and mornings when it was just her and Molly at the house.
The first four horses arrived three days ago, making the new barn her early morning refuge. As she neared the barn doors, she smiled at the whickering of hungry horses eagerly awaiting their breakfast. Her always-sore right hip warmed and loosened a bit as she walked the length of the barn. Four forelocks waving up and down reminded her of children waiting for candy to be tossed from a passing parade. Her one-woman parade ended at the hay shed, where she tossed a few flakes of alfalfa into the back of the electric cart.
Phht. Electric cart.
Every day she marveled at the upgrades. The new barn was especially magnificent; Todd would have loved it. There were indoor wash racks that drained perfectly, with retractable hoses hung from above instead of tangling at everyone’s feet. Each sprayer had varied settings, and there were receptacles for shampoo, conditioner, and detangler. The sponges, brushes, curry combs, and scrapers were hung against the wall where they could easily drain. Lockable drawers held complete clipper kits and sets of braid bands, neatly organized. And that was just the wash racks, to say nothing of the two large tack rooms.
As she approached the first occupied stall, the big bay Quarterhorse, Jed, nodded his head up and down over the stall door. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” said Maeve, grabbing a flake from the cart. He lunged when she dropped it into the feed bin. It tumbled over the rack and landed on his impatient head. Alfalfa crumbs littered the gelding’s forelock and mane. She imagined Todd’s response in her mind, Och, ye were in such a hurry, lad, ye’ll either have to share with your neighbor or grow a longer tongue.
The new barn was so big, it stuck out against the hills as it was, so Maeve had decided to leave it a matte beige to better blend with the landscape. There were two aisles of stalls with spacious paddocks along the outside rows. Forty horses could be housed in the barn if needed, though she only had plans for ten, at least for the first year.
The barn’s upstairs apartment was finished last week. It was so cozy and perfect, for a moment she seriously considered moving into it herself.
The indoor arena across the lane was the last of the big projects. It was all but done, with only the roofing to complete and then footing laid to finish it off. Tim would arrive later to manage the work crew. But the facilities felt like the least complicated of the preparations to restart the horsemanship program.
How can I do this without you? She asked Todd in her mind. Her memory brought his response. Ye can and ye will, mo ghràdh. She wanted to punch him.
She had only four months to collect six more school horses. Horse shopping took time, but it was the task of finding the right barn manager that concerned her most. There were a few more Allen Haven alumni on her list, although Todd’s first choice would have been Barb, and for good reason. But they had yet to find a way to reach her—and who knew if she would even be interested or able to take the role. Maeve dreaded having to train someone new in such a short time, but that might have to be the case. She would start that search today.
The next horse in the row was an unusually fine-boned Morgan mare, jet black, with a thin strip of white down her face. Satin. In contrast to Jed, Satin stood away from the feeder when Maeve approached to drop the flake, daintily moving in to pick through it patiently for her favorite bits. Maeve always enjoyed learning the horses’ personalities and looked forward to choosing their riders among the students.
There would be six students to start. Lisa was currently playing Genny’s former role, helping to get the word out to potential horsemanship candidates for the essay contest. Flyers were provided to the middle schools, but the teachers were less apt to pass them around without Genny there. Lisa put the word out over her social network, which was surprisingly wide, but her circle was different. Most of her contacts were through families who had lost a loved one. Maeve wondered if or how that might effect the demographic of applicants, but she was willing to put that in God’s hands, at least for now.
Maeve leaned more heavily on her faith these days. When it all seemed too much to bear she said a quick prayer and put one foot in front of the other, knowing somehow the rest would fall into place. Horses fed, she tossed the ball down the barn aisle for Molly a few times, the sound of her happy panting a satisfying accompaniment to the swoosh of horses tossing their hay and munching contentedly.
The addition of the Cartwrights to Maeve’s daily life was a surprise. Maeve would never have imagined it could be so comfortable having them around; they had quickly become like family. Neither Tim nor Lisa were true horse people, but they made themselves handy and were willing to learn. Tim was there most days, managing contractors he hired. And Lisa had a volunteer spirit. She applied herself to any task at hand without complaint. Mostly. Lisa wasn’t so keen on mucking stalls. Both seemed to genuinely enjoy their time at Allen Haven. And Tim’s retriever, Ammy, was a well-behaved personification of joy, the ranch’s self-appointed welcoming committee.
Maeve was glad Todd had the chance to get to know the Cartwrights a little. It seemed to go a long way to easing the knot of guilt he carried to the end over Dani. In some way, all of this was about Dani, and perhaps something bigger than she could get her own thoughts around.
As Maeve moved slowly up the pea-gravelled path to the house, she noted the lush green of the hills and found herself humming Caleb’s “A Dream-chasing Girl”. She hoped Caleb would go back to pursuing his music, even if only on the side. He was so good at telling stories with just a few words and the deftly performed notes on his guitar.
She was grateful for her son. Those first days after Todd’s passing, he was a true comfort, simply filling some of the emptiness in the room without words, or picking out a song to himself as he always had done.
When she went back to Scotland to settle affairs there, Caleb went with her. He was her constant during the procession of friends with condolences and good luck wishes. And of course, he helped her get all the accounts in order.
The flat sold in a blink. When she saw the signed paperwork, she cried. Caleb told her not to worry, it was a good deal. But it was not the deal that shocked her, it was the era over. She and Todd had been happy there; they had lived their moment in Edinburgh’s history as the third generation of Allens in the tenement at Holyrood Park. It was someone else’s turn now. The river moved on, different and the same.
Caleb was back in Sedona, helping his girlfriend haul horses to safety along the swollen Verde River. She hoped they were staying safe themselves. It could be dangerous work loading and unloading horses, and according to her weather app, the rain was still coming down out there.
Haseya was Caleb’s match and more when it came to helping out. Todd would have appreciated that. Her mother had a horse ranch in Sedona where she raised Arabians and employed them in a sort of new age equine therapy program. Maeve had a hard time condoning that, but she had to admit that being around horses was her own personal therapy. At any rate, she seemed like a good kid, and good for him. Kids. She was at least twenty-six to Caleb’s thirty-three.
Haseya was nothing like his previous girlfriend, Elaine. Elaine was all about safety and security, which was what Todd liked most about her for Caleb. Maeve saw herself in Elaine, naturally bent to ensure everyone followed the rules—for their own good of course. But maybe the rules did not need to be so strictly defined. She liked Haseya. She was genuine, though more adventurous, a bit like Grace, but with a little more wisdom behind her eyes.
Maeve let herself and Molly back into the house, breathing in the fading scent of new paint. She scooped a cup of kibble for Molly, started a fresh pot of coffee, and popped a piece of bread in the toaster. It was almost seven-thirty, in another half an hour, the workers would show up to continue the roof over the indoor arena. Maeve switched on the news to keep her company. More rain in the southwest.
A reflection flashed across the wall and she thought she heard a car pull up. Turning the TV to mute, she went to the front window. Molly barked at the front door and wagged at Maeve for approval. A small oxidized brown car was parked out front. She watched as a middle-aged woman rose from the driver’s seat and started up the front steps.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Barb Ames
There were only four steps up the stairs to the porch and the Allens’ front door. It looked the same. How was that possible?
A dog let out two barks inside.
Barb wrapped her palm over the rounded wood ball at the bottom of the stairs and wrestled with her will. In a moment, she would be standing in front of that innocent-looking door, its white panels trimmed with light blue. Her stomach fluttered. She had no real reason to expect anything good. Will I be turned away again?
But behind her eyes, the mud was still rushing up around the horses’ legs. She pressed the doorbell. A dog barked again, but nothing happened. She could walk away and no one would know. Don’t be a chicken-shit, Barb.
She summoned her hand and gave a knock. A strong knock, but not too strong. The vibration felt right in the bones of her knuckles. She added two more quick, friendly knocks, tentative hope in her racing heart.
A voice inside said, “Let me call you back. Someone is at the door.”
The door opened and there stood a slight woman with long straight graying hair tied back at the nape of her neck. She was leaning on a black lacquered cane. An aged Maeve Allen. Not a doubt.
She smiled at her, proclaiming, “Barbara Ames!” As if she wasn’t surprised but relieved to see Barb standing there. “You got my message.”
Barb’s eyebrows bunched as she leaned over to greet a brown lab offering her a soggy ball. “Your message?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” said Maeve.
“No, I didn’t get a message, but . . . Well, you got me,” said Barb, feeling her shoulders relax a notch.
Maeve snapped a finger and pointed. The dog moved away. “Come inside. Please,” she said.
Barb looked around the room as she entered. “Is Mr Allen here?”
Before Maeve could answer, a golden retriever came bounding into the house through the open door. She went straight to Barb, wagging her entire body. “Well, hello sweetie,” said Barb, reflexively rubbing the dog behind the ears while she swiped Barb’s cheek with a doggy kiss.
Maeve laughed. “You’ve just met Ammy. No doubt Tim will be close behind. The one with the ball is my Molly.”
Sure enough, a tall man walked in wearing a polo and slacks. Could it be Mr Cartwright? His eyes lit up upon seeing her, “Barb?”
“Yes.” Her eyes must have been bulging.
He put out a hand and shook hers warmly. “We’ve been looking for you.”
Barb felt her brows tense in a half-second of confusion. As he bent to pat his dog, a memory flashed across her mind of this same man frantically searching her house for his daughter. But as quickly as it came, the fist in her gut burst loose, escaping in a hearty guffaw.
This is not real. She pinched her own arm. Nope, not dreaming this time.
Maeve waved an arm toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you two pour yourselves some coffee? I need to call Caleb back before we get to talking here.”
Barb and Tim sat down at the kitchen table with their coffee. Barb’s heart dropped when she learned that Todd Allen had passed. She couldn’t believe he was gone. But as Tim Cartwright explained it, it was her closeness with Todd, everything that he had taught her, that made her the first choice for the barn manager position—if she was interested. She choked on her coffee and got up to find a napkin.
“Oh,” said Tim, “I guess I spilled the beans there.” But his smile said he wasn’t sorry.
Maeve looked paler when she returned to the kitchen.
She said, “Caleb.” Maeve was shaking her head, mostly to herself, but she was looking at Tim.
“What’s going on?” Said Tim.
“They’ve started putting out an evacuation warning in southern Oak Creek, and more rain is on the way.”
“Are Caleb and Haseya still moving horses around? They’ve got to be exhausted,” said Tim.
“I want to get the trailer out there to help, but. . .” She looked down at her legs. “I won’t be much help loading horses.”
Barb raised her hand, looking back and forth between the two of them and then directly at Maeve. “This may sound strange, because I don’t know who Caleb is, or where Oak Creek is for that matter, but I think this might be why I’m here.”
“That’s right! As I recall you were very good with the truck and trailer,” said Maeve.
“It’s been a while,” said Barb, standing up from the table. “Maybe I could take it around the block just to be sure, but I don’t know why not.”
Next week
Part 4 | This Storm is Called Progress
10 - Tangle
Behind-the-Scenes Extra
Some storylines are coming together, as you can see. This chapter is a true first draft. I had a vague idea that there would be some sort of trailer situation involving Barb, Sedona, and wet horses, but there were no words prewritten. I actually rewrote the outline for this chapter more times, and with wider variation per attempt, than any previous. Right down to the wire.
The flooding in Sedona is something that actually happened on these dates, although I don’t know the extent of it or any details about horses in the area. I used the event as a waypoint for the story. Its inclusion was always planned.
It had nothing to do with the terrible flood in Texas, but that tragedy has been heavy on my mind. My heart goes out to all those who lost loved ones.