I nod for her to go on as my stomach starts to tighten with nerves.
“I went out riding with her one day over Spring Break when a storm slammed into us. It came in so fast,” she says quietly. I want to go to her, to wrap her up in my arms and promise that she’ll be okay, but I know she needs to get this out.
“This one thunderbolt… it came down right next to us. I was terrified, and so was Polka. She reared and I fell back. Got the wind knocked out of me when I hit the ground. The dirt was so soft though and it gave way. I rolled into the river and Polka ran off.”
“That must have been scary,” I say and she nods.
That’s not so bad. People get bucked off all of the time. I’ll just have to get her to see how great riding is.
Then Kennedy hits me with the rest of her story.
"The water was high from the storm, much higher than I thought it would be. It had been raining off and on all week but I thought it was still okay. That's why I was so excited to finally go out for a ride," she goes on. My high hopes dip. "I could barely keep my head above water and I ended up getting washed quite a ways down the river before I managed to snag a branch."
“How long were you there?”
Kennedy takes a shuddering breath, discreetly wiping a tear from her eye. “Two hours,” she whispers. “Then my father and some of the stable hands found me.”
“And Polka?” I ask. Kennedy lets out a quiet sob, looking away from me.
“She was so scared… she ran through some old barbed wire on our neighbor’s property. It cut her up really bad, and…” My sweet, brave girl takes a final breath before continuing. “She bled out before anyone could find her.”
“Kennedy, I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“Me too,” she says as tears slip down her cheeks.
I let her compose herself before I speak again.
"And ever since then, you've been afraid of horses?"
“Yeah. I spent about a week in the hospital, recovering from almost drowning, hypothermia, and a few broken bones. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the world spinning, spinning, spinning, until water crashed over me. I couldn’t sleep for weeks.”
"Thank you for trusting me," I tell her honestly, slipping my hand into hers. She looks down at our entwined fingers, then squeezes them.
I hate the thought of her hurt and lying in a hospital bed. I hate that she lost her best friend in such a tragic way. I hate that she's lived in fear for so long and that no one took the time to work with her. That shit ends now.
“It’ll be okay,” I promise. “We can go slow, work at your own pace. We won’t go riding or anything until you’re ready.”
Kennedy nods, then withdraws her hand from mine. She wraps her arms around her waist, looking down at her feet.
“What if I’m never ready?” she whispers. Her broken voice kills me, but it also hardens my resolve. This goddess was meant to be riding horses through the fields, at one with nature and all its creations.
"You will be," I vow, tipping her chin up once more and locking eyes with her.
She nods, looking out the window toward where the guest cabins are.
“I don’t think I can stay there. I can’t be that close to them. Not yet,” she admits. I nod.
“You’ll stay here in the house with me.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out. I could get a hotel room in town or something.”
“No, you’re more than welcome here.”
I want to tell her that this is going to be her home soon, but I know that it’s not the right time so I settle for saying something else.
“Are you hungry? I can whip up dinner real quick.”
The beautifully broken woman gives me a grateful smile, clearly happy to be talking about something else. I can think of all sorts of ways I want to distract her, but that will have to come later. First, I need to build up her trust. Then, I’ll make her mine. Forever.