Chapter 3 - The Storm He Could Not Escape
The wind began shortly after sunset.
By eight, snow had swallowed the yard.
By nine, the windows shook in their frames.
Leanne sat beside the stove repairing a wool blanket.
Arthur paced.
She noticed after several minutes.
At first she assumed he was checking the house.
Then she saw his hands.
They were trembling.
The wind screamed against the roof.
Arthur froze.
Something disappeared from his expression.
He was no longer inside the house.
The room around him became orange.
Smoke.
Heat.
A roof cracking overhead.
A child screaming.
“Papa!”
Arthur staggered.
Leanne stood.
“Arthur?”
He hit the wall with his shoulder.
His breathing came fast.
“No.”
Another gust slammed against the house.
Arthur saw flames climbing timber.
“No. No…”
He sat hard against the wall.
His hands covered his face.
Leanne did not approach.
That surprised him later.
She did not ask what was wrong.
She did not touch him.
She walked into the kitchen.
Water went into a kettle.
Chamomile.
Honey.
A few minutes later she placed a steaming mug on the floor near him.
Arthur ignored it.
Leanne returned to her chair.
Then the needle began moving.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Arthur stared between his fingers.
The movement was steady.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
His breathing gradually followed.
Minutes passed.
The fire in his memory retreated.
The stove became a stove again.
The screaming became wind.
He lowered his hands.
Leanne continued sewing.
“Why aren’t you asking?”
The needle stopped.
“About what?”
Arthur almost laughed bitterly.
“You know.”
Leanne folded the blanket across her knees.
“I know you are hurting.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
She looked toward the dark window.
“But a wound does not become smaller because a stranger demands to see it.”
Arthur stared at her.
Nobody had ever said anything like that.
People wanted explanations.
Confessions.
Details.
Proof.
Leanne wanted nothing from him.
And wanting nothing made her dangerous.
It meant Arthur had nothing to fight.
Another violent gust hit the window.
Arthur flinched.
Leanne saw.
Her eyes moved from Arthur to the stove.
Firelight flickered across his face.
Something changed in hers.
Understanding.
“The storm isn’t what you’re afraid of, is it?”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
It was the first honest answer he had given anyone in three years.
Then came a noise from outside.
A horse screamed.
Arthur was instantly on his feet.
“Ghost.”
He grabbed his coat.
Leanne stood.
“You cannot go out there.”
“She’ll break through the fence.”
“Arthur—”
But the door was already open.
Snow exploded into the house.
Arthur disappeared into the storm.
Leanne waited perhaps ten seconds.
Then she grabbed her coat and followed.
She found Arthur near the paddock.
Ghost was panicking.
A fallen pine limb had smashed part of the fence, and the mare had become trapped between broken rails.
Arthur approached.
Ghost kicked wildly.
“Easy!”
She screamed.
Arthur stepped closer.
A hoof missed his head by inches.
Leanne saw something Arthur did not.
A length of broken wire had wrapped around Ghost’s rear leg.
“Arthur!”
He turned.
Leanne pointed.
“The leg!”
He saw it.
Ghost kicked again.
Arthur could not reach the wire without being struck.
Leanne moved toward the mare.
“Stay back!”
She ignored him.
Instead of approaching Ghost directly, Leanne stopped several yards away.
She lowered her body slightly.
Then she began speaking.
Not English.
Chinese.
Soft words Arthur could not understand.
Ghost’s ears moved.
Leanne continued.
The mare remained frightened but looked toward her.
Arthur stared.
“Keep talking.”
Leanne did.
Arthur moved slowly behind Ghost.
The mare trembled.
Leanne’s voice never changed.
Arthur reached the wire.
Pulled.
It had tightened.
He drew his knife.
Ghost jerked.
“Easy…”
Leanne continued speaking.
Arthur cut through the wire.
Ghost stumbled free.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then something extraordinary happened.
Ghost approached Leanne.
Not Arthur.
Leanne held completely still.
The mare stretched her neck.
Her nose touched Leanne’s shoulder.
Arthur stared through the falling snow.
He had spent months trying to earn that horse’s trust.
Leanne had done it in minutes.
“What did you say to her?”
Leanne stroked the mare only after Ghost allowed it.
“I told her no one was going to force her anywhere.”
Arthur looked at the woman.
Then at the horse.
And suddenly he understood why the words had worked.
May you like
Leanne had not been speaking only to Ghost.
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