Julie survived a horrific car accident, but she has no memory of the event or the boyfriend who was with her in the car.
He disappeared, and she is diagnosed with PTSD. Her doctor recommends a therapy animal, and Julie chooses to get a horse. Julie's experience with horses is limited, but it's empowering to finally be involved in life again, and her symptoms abate. However, she has a lot to learn, and when the riding coach gives confusing lessons, Julie is thrown off balance, both emotionally and in the saddle. The improvement she'd begun to experience with PTSD symptoms is lost, and her nightmares return. Can Julie and the horse recover and heal their broken spirits?
Julie survived a horrific car accident, but she has no memory of the event or the boyfriend who was with her in the car.
He disappeared, and she is diagnosed with PTSD. Her doctor recommends a therapy animal, and Julie chooses to get a horse. Julie's experience with horses is limited, but it's empowering to finally be involved in life again, and her symptoms abate. However, she has a lot to learn, and when the riding coach gives confusing lessons, Julie is thrown off balance, both emotionally and in the saddle. The improvement she'd begun to experience with PTSD symptoms is lost, and her nightmares return. Can Julie and the horse recover and heal their broken spirits?
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Overview
Julie survived a horrific car accident, but she has no memory of the event or the boyfriend who was with her in the car.
He disappeared, and she is diagnosed with PTSD. Her doctor recommends a therapy animal, and Julie chooses to get a horse. Julie's experience with horses is limited, but it's empowering to finally be involved in life again, and her symptoms abate. However, she has a lot to learn, and when the riding coach gives confusing lessons, Julie is thrown off balance, both emotionally and in the saddle. The improvement she'd begun to experience with PTSD symptoms is lost, and her nightmares return. Can Julie and the horse recover and heal their broken spirits?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781459822689 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Orca Book Publishers |
| Publication date: | 08/27/2019 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 160 |
| File size: | 824 KB |
About the Author
K.L. Denman has written many novels for youth, including the Orca Currents titles Destination Human and Agent Angus. Many of K.L.’s titles have been listed as Best Books of the Year, and Me, Myself and Ike was a finalist for the Governor General’s Literary award. She lives in Delta, British Columbia.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
I'VE MADE IT to most of my appointments with Dr. Rosa Flores. But I missed the last one. I'm here now, sitting in her cozy office. It's in an old brick building with tall windows, and the decor has the feel of an old-fashioned porch. There's a pair of plump overstuffed chairs, the sort you sink into. The colors are green and cream, and the pictures on the walls are vibrant abstracts. I'm studying the flowered curtains at the window. Anything to avoid her watchful gaze.
"Has there been any change, Julie?" she asks.
She wants to know if I've been leaving my apartment. Seeing people. And the biggie: have I remembered the accident? I shake my head.
Dr. Rosa nods. "Okay. But you're here again today. And that's good. I know it takes a lot of effort."
As pathetic as that is, it's true. It takes every scrap of willpower I've got to come here. It's not that I'm afraid to leave my place. Not exactly. I just don't want to. It doesn't feel like there's any point. Nothing will change.
"Are you eating?" she asks.
I glance over and feel the warm concern she radiates. It fills the air around her. She's older, a small woman with thick black hair pulled into a soft ponytail. I shrug and reply, "Enough."
"Good. Is there anything at all you'd like to share with me?"
I despise that question. No, there is nothing I'd like to share. Not because I'm especially private, but more because there really is nothing.
When I don't reply, she asks the next question. "Are you sleeping?"
"Not really," I mutter. As in I'm still afraid to sleep. Still having the nightmares. Every night I'm chased down dark roads by a faceless man in black. He wields relentless terror.
"Julie?" Dr. Rosa leans in toward me. "I'd like you to consider a new treatment. It's not a medication. It's something that will take a strong commitment from you."
I shoot her a wary look. "I'm not trying the art or yoga classes again."
"Fine. Because this is something quite different." She pauses, watching me closely. "I'd like to prescribe a companion animal for you. A cat perhaps. Or a dog."
I stare at her. "You want me to get a pet?" I feel something as I say this. It's a shimmery feeling I haven't had for so long, it takes me by surprise. It might be actual interest. But the shimmer swiftly dies. "My building doesn't allow pets."
Dr. Rosa raises her brows. "That may be their general rule. But by law, they have to allow an emotional-support animal."
"They do?" The shimmer of interest is back. "Are you sure?"
She grins. "They do if the animal is prescribed by a doctor. Like me."
I feel something unfamiliar happening to my face.
"Julie," she says, laughing. "You're smiling!"
It's true. But the smile fades as I resume studying the curtains. "I don't know. I've never had a pet of my own. What if I can't look after it?"
"But what if you can?" she asks. She quietly waits while I absorb that. Eventually she says, "Listen, Julie. I don't want you to make a decision yet. All I'm asking is that you think about it."
I nod. "Okay. I can do that." I don't remind her that even thinking is hard sometimes. But this? At least I want to think about this. That's saying something.
And I do think about it. On the drive home from Dr. Rosa's office it suddenly seems there are people walking dogs everywhere. There's a large black one with silky, wavy fur. It almost floats alongside its owner. There's a bulldog, mostly white, built low to the ground. Its thick legs are bowed, and its broad wrinkled face grins as it lumbers along the sidewalk. At a traffic light I look up and notice a calico cat watching from an apartment window.
The idea of a dog walking alongside me is tempting. And to have a cat waiting at home to cuddle and play with ... that's tempting too. My family never had pets while I was growing up. My brother was allergic to them, so my only experience with animals was at friends' homes. My boyfriend ...
I draw a blank there. I remember other boyfriends from the past, especially the one with the dog. Chad. We were together for two years before he dumped me. But that was before the last one, Roger. He's nothing more than a lurking shadow. Vague moments blanketed in fog. My mother says she never even saw a picture of him. I have one photo of us together, but his back is to the camera. I do remember that after Chad and I split, I met Roger online. We talked and Skyped every spare moment, and he seemed like a perfect match. Before long I moved across the country to be with him. My family and friends were shocked, but I was excited about a fresh start. I was able to get a job transfer with the law firm I worked for. Even able to put a down payment on a small condo. It wasn't long before Roger moved in with me. It seems all was well for six months — and then the car accident happened.
When I got home from the hospital, there wasn't even a stray sock to show Roger had ever been there. No note. My phone was destroyed in the accident, and my computer was scrubbed clean of messages. It was as if he had tried to erase himself, but why? Was it guilt over him being the cause of the accident? I don't know.
I only know the bare details from the police report. Roger was driving and lost control. The car rolled at high speed and was a write-off. He walked away with minor injuries. One of the nurses at the hospital said he came to visit once. And that was it.
My family and friends wanted me to move back to them right away. They said I could get therapy there. That it wasn't like I had anyone here now, not even friends. I guess I wasn't with the new office long enough to form friendships. But something in me refuses.
Part of me believes that by staying here I'll recover my missing memory. Be the person I once was. I don't want my family and friends to see what I've become. The way it is now, I can ignore calls and messages. I tell them I like it here, and besides, I own my apartment. I received a large insurance settlement from the accident, enough to pay off the condo. Enough that I don't have to work for a long time.
But they don't like that either. They've all tried to convince me I'd be better off going back to work as a paralegal. I tell them that isn't possible with my impaired concentration. My mother says, "You used to love it, Julie. It's just not like you to do nothing. It's been almost a year."
Yes, almost a year in limbo. Of searching through a faulty mind to find answers that refuse to come. The one friend I haven't been able to fully dodge is Kerry. She flew out to be with me after the accident — surprising since we'd parted on bad terms. Kerry hadn't held back telling me she thought it was a huge mistake for me to move to the West Coast. I hadn't held back replying that her opinion didn't matter.
But she came. And she was there when the doctors said I didn't suffer a head trauma that could account for the memory gap. Their diagnosis is post-traumatic stress disorder, and they say in time it's likely my memory will return. How much time?
I give up thinking about the past and return to the pet idea. When I get home, I make toast and open a can of bland pea soup. I dump it into a bowl, heat it in the microwave and then sit at my computer to eat. I begin researching dog breeds, then move on to cats. I spend an hour watching funny pet videos. Some of them even make me smile.
I spend all of the next week thinking about having a pet. Hours pass as I search online, reading and looking at images. By the time I return to Dr. Rosa's office, I'm ready to give her my answer.
CHAPTER 2I DON'T WAIT for Dr. Rosa to run through her usual list of check-in questions. The moment we're seated, I blurt out, "I've decided."
She knows without asking what has been decided. She grins and raises a hand, palm up. "Wonderful! I take it you're going ahead with a pet then?"
"I am."
"And?" Her brown eyes twinkle. "Shall I write the prescription for a cat or a dog?"
"Neither," I say firmly. "I'm going to get a horse."
The twinkle fades as her eyes widen, but she quickly recovers. "A horse?" She tilts her head to one side. "Do you mind my asking why?"
"The only pet I ever dreamed of having is a horse. If I'm going to do this, why not get the animal I really want?"
She studies me for a moment. "I can see why you might feel that way. But if you don't mind, I'd like to explore this choice. My first thought is practicality. Obviously you can't keep a horse in your apartment."
"I've already found a boarding stable. It's really nice and only fifteen minutes away from my place."
"Okay." She nods. "That's great. But are you willing to go there on a regular basis?"
I knew she'd ask this, and I'm ready for her. "I'll admit, it will be a challenge. But I'll have to go, right? I mean, there's a stable manager there. I talked to her, and she does all the chores of feeding and cleaning stalls. But she said I'd be responsible for exercising and grooming the horse. I think ..." I hesitate. "No, I know I would go. And isn't that a win-win? Unlike a cat, this would make me leave the apartment."
"I don't doubt it," Dr. Rosa says. "All right, another concern. Your injuries from the accident were fairly extensive. Broken jaw, shoulder, ribs, arm and leg, correct? Horseback riding is physically demanding. Will you be up to it?"
"My physiotherapy ended a couple of months ago. The therapist said the best thing I could do from there was to exercise. See? Another win-win."
"You really have thought this through. I'm impressed. You must have great past experiences with horses."
I nod. "I rode when I was a teen and loved it. Although that was over ten years ago. But the stable manager gives lessons. I could take lessons for a while."
She smiles. "Of course. But perhaps before jumping into this, you might consider another option. There is a counselor nearby that does equine-assisted therapy. Would you like to try that first?"
"No. This is what I want. I've decided."
"Indeed. And making a decision is terrific." Dr. Rosa claps her hands. "I think this is an excellent choice. I can already see a change in you, Julie. That is wonderful. I'm so pleased."
* * *
The mare is beautiful. Exactly the horse I've imagined. Her coat is paprika red, and her mane and tail are silken auburn. She has four white stockings and a white blaze, and her muscles ripple like molten copper
as she moves. The advertisement said she was five years old and a reliable trail horse. It didn't specify her breeding, but that's not important to me. I don't need a show horse.
The owner is a solid woman with a stomping walk and curly gray hair. She introduces herself as Shirley. As she leads the mare toward me, she says, "She's a dandy. And sound as a bell. Healthy as a horse, eh? Ha-ha."
I can barely take my eyes off the mare to reply. "Good. Great. Uh ..." I try to recall the questions I planned to ask. I thought I'd memorized the list I found online, but it seems to be gone. Ah. "How are her feet? Is she good with the farrier?"
"She's a perfect lady. See for yourself." With that, Shirley stoops and taps the mare's ankle. Or, rather, the fetlock. I've studied horse anatomy too. Obediently the mare lifts the hoof and stands quietly. "She'll be due for a trim again in a week or so."
"Nice," I say. What else? "What about her teeth? Are they good?"
"Absolutely. Just had them done a month ago. And she's up to date on all her shots."
I nod. That is another question answered. "Does she have any bad habits?"
Shirley shakes her head. "No. See for yourself. She handles like a dream." Shirley steps forward and offers the mare's lead line. Gingerly I take hold, and then I'm right next to the horse. I'd forgotten how large they are up close. But I gaze into the mare's liquid brown eyes and find a sweet curiosity in them. Cautiously I reach out to run a hand along her neck. It feels like warm satin. That wonderful horse aroma fills my nostrils, and I inhale deeply.
"Go ahead," Shirley says. "Take her for a walk."
That flusters me. How does this work? Do I pull on the line? Yes. I try that, and the mare takes a half step toward me. I back up. The mare follows.
"Huh." Shirley snorts. "You might want to turn around. Don't worry — she'll follow."
I feel like an idiot. Of course that's how it's done. I turn and step forward, and sure enough, the mare stays with me. Her hooves clop loudly on the pavement, a rhythmic one-two-three-four beat. It sounds like music. When we reach the end of the paved yard, I turn and head back to Shirley. The mare follows.
"Nice, eh?" Shirley asks. "Looks like she's the perfect size for you too. Do you want to get on?"
"Um. No. Not right now. I have to take some lessons first."
Shirley squints. "Greenhorn, are ya? Hmm. Well then, do you want to watch me give her a go around the arena?"
"Sure." I watch closely as Shirley puts a Western-style saddle on the mare. Next there's a bridle with a bit that slips into the horse's mouth. It all goes quickly and smoothly. Too quickly for me to follow all the steps, but that's okay. I'll watch more online videos.
Shirley takes the horse into a large fenced area with a sandy surface and demonstrates that the mare will walk, trot, and canter. She behaves beautifully. The mare is so graceful, it's like watching a dance.
This is the one. I know it. My very own horse. When Shirley rides back toward the gate, I ask, "What's her name?"
"She don't really have a name. I just call her Red."
A horse with no name. That will have to change. "I'd like to take her," I say. "She's perfect."
But Shirley hesitates. "You know what, honey? I've been thinking. And I've gotta say, I'm not so sure this is the right horse for you."
I gape at her. "What? Why not?"
"Hon, she's a good little mare. But she's still young. Not really right for a novice like you."
Panic floods through me, hot and wild. "But I want her! I've looked at a few other horses, and I didn't feel a connection. This is the one!"
Shirley studies me. "How much help are you going to have?"
"Lots. The stable manager — her name's Vicki. She's a coach and everything."
"That's Vicki Hayes?" Shirley asks. "Over at the Blackwood place?"
I nod.
Shirley swings down from the horse before replying. "Okay then. I've heard Vicki has a decent reputation. And I'll guarantee the mare is sound, so you don't have to worry about a vet bill. But I'm warning you, Julie, I don't sell horses on trial. Had trouble with that in the past. Folks mess up an animal, then say they don't want it. So if things go wrong ..."
"They won't," I tell her. They won't.
CHAPTER 3SHIRLEY OFFERS TO trailer my beautiful mare to the boarding stable the next day. She tells me to be sure I've got cash to pay. I'll also need to have my own tack ready for her arrival. I give the mare a final pat and go from there to the tack store Shirley suggests.
It's filled with the scent of leather and items I can't identify. Saddles are obvious, and I look at them for a while. A clerk comes over and offers help. When I tell her I've just bought a new horse and need "everything," she grabs a shopping cart.
"What breed is your horse?" she asks.
Airily I reply, "That's not important."
"Okay," says the clerk, "but you'll need to get the right size. I mean, a quarter horse is smaller than a Clydesdale, right?"
I flush. "Right. Well, she's a medium size." We're standing in front of a wall of halters. A bright green one catches my eye. "That color would look good on her."
"Perfect." The clerk takes down a green halter and puts it in the cart. An hour later I'm at the checkout with several bulging bags. Brushes, a lead line, a horse blanket, a bridle, a pair of boots for me, a hoof pick, fly spray — I don't know what some of the "basics" I bought are for, but I've got them. The total is over $1,000, and I don't even have a saddle yet.
"You have to buy a properly fitted saddle," the clerk tells me. "We have someone that goes out to barns and measures. But you need to book an appointment. Would you like to do that?"
Dazed, I nod. She makes the call while I wait. A few minutes later she asks, "Does next Monday work for you?" That's a week away, but I agree. She writes the time on a business card and hands it to me. "She charges $100 for the appointment."
By the time I go to the bank and withdraw the cash for Shirley, I'm exhausted. I haven't done so much in a single day since ... since when? I don't know. I hit a drivethrough for a burger and eat it on the way home. Once all the bags are hauled up to my apartment, I spread everything out in my small living room.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Coming Back"
by .
Copyright © 2019 K.L. Denman.
Excerpted by permission of ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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