Lily's Song: Companion Horse Stories

By DK Raymer

Lily, an elegant Arabian mare, lives on Nelson Farm surrounded by athletic performance horses. She shares her stall with a goat named Walter and a cat named Boo. Together they observe life on the busy farm, a life that she cannot participate in. Lily has every comfort at Nelson Farm but she does not have a person to call her own, and she is beginning to wonder if she ever will.

When a new chiropractor arrives from Boston, Massachusetts to treat the owner's champion reining horse, Lily discovers that Dr. McCullen has a daughter. Eleven year old Micah feels just as out of place at Nelson Farm as Lily does. She has never been to a farm, has never seen a real horse, and is reeling from the sudden loss of her father.

Is this lost girl the person Lily has been waiting for? Can a broken mare help Micah heal? Lily's Song is a celebration of life, of friends found in the most unlikely places, and a tribute to the healing power of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DK Raymer
• Release date: Jun 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9780979008542

Book preview

Lily’s Song

A Companion Horse Story

D.K. Raymer

For a mare named Helen.

May they all find forever homes.

BOO

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From the end spring new beginnings.

Pliny the Elder

DARKNESS

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The mare stood in her stall, listening. She had been awake for some time, stirred by the snoring of her friend, the goat.

The mare wasn’t the only one unable to sleep tonight. The cat was awake, too. She could hear him purring softly from the beam above her stall. The cat watched over her every night. She couldn’t remember when he first joined them here in the barn, but she had grown fond of the cat and took comfort in the fact that he kept a nightly vigil.

Outside the wind blew. It sounded cold and lonely as it swept across Nelson Farm. But this barn was well-built and so the horses housed here were safe from its frigid grip.

Down by the tack room a radio played. Mr. Nelson turned it on every evening before he left the barn. Tonight it played classical music. The mare tilted her head, listening to the violins, the timpani and the French horns. She loved this music; it made her heart light. The sound of the violins carried her beyond her stall and past the round pen where she romped with the goat during the day. It carried her to a place without limits where she was free to run.

The goat snorted loudly and woke up. He blinked, confused, and looked around the stall.

The mare lowered her head and touched his coarse coat with her nose. He snuggled into the fresh straw bedding and nodded off again. The mare loved the goat. He was as true a friend as she could ever want. But he was still a goat.

The other horses in this barn had something she did not. They belonged to people. Even though some of those people were far from perfect, these horses could still say they belonged to someone. The mare couldn’t make that claim.

She had been placed in the care of Mr. Nelson shortly after she was born. He promised to care for her until that magical day when she would find a person of her own. She had been waiting for that day all her life.

Most of the time, the mare didn’t think about it. But sometimes, late at night when the goat was snoring, the mare dreamed about the sort of person she would like to belong to.

In her heart, she knew it would be a girl. And she knew this girl would be extraordinary. She would have to be. After all, the mare was not perfect. She had limitations. Many horsemen considered her useless. Some even said she should be destroyed. But she knew the girl would see her worth. This extraordinary girl would love her in spite of her flaws.

And so the mare waited.

And she hoped.

Outside the wind blew. The goat snored. And the car purred.

CHANGE

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Dr. Anne McCullen stood by her office window talking on the phone. The street outside was filled with Wednesday morning commuters rushing to work. A cup of black coffee grew cold on her desk.

It happened again, dad. Dr. Anne twisted a strand of long red hair around her finger as she talked. It was a nervous habit, one she was trying to break.

There was a warehouse fire last night, she said. It was a big one, four alarm. Micah heard the sirens and woke up sick all over. Dr. Anne looked above the traffic to the Boston sky. It had been gray for days.

Micah spent the rest of the night in my room, she continued.

She’s getting worse, said Jim King. He was standing in his kitchen on the other end of the phone, more than a thousand miles away. Dr. Anne’s father was a tall man of about 60, with red hair like his daughter.

I know, Dr. Anne confirmed. And I’m really worried.

Dr. Anne could hear her receptionist talking cheerfully with patients in the lobby. She hated to keep them waiting, but this call was important. Besides, all her patients would have to find new doctors soon if she did what her heart was urging her to do.

I spoke with Micah’s principal yesterday, she continued. Micah wants to drop out of orchestra.

What? said Jim astounded. The principal must be mistaken. Music is her life.

"Was her life. Past tense, dad," said Dr. Anne.

I don’t believe it, he said. "Is she still playing her violin?

Not very often, she said.

This is troubling, said Jim. Micah’s played violin since she was in diapers.

I know, said Anne. But now that Brad is gone, she’s lost all focus. She can’t seem to find a reason to play anymore.

I understand, said Jim. What does her doctor suggest?

More drugs. He wants to add a tranquilizer to the antidepressant she’s already taking. Dr. Anne sighed. She was beyond frustrated. "I’m trying to get Micah off addictive drugs, not give her more!"

Agreed, said her father. Keeping Micah in a drug fog is not an acceptable long term strategy. Jim King was a retired pharmacist. He knew about the unintended side effects all drugs can have.

A stray snowflake danced past Dr. Anne’s office window. She watched it float all the way to the pavement. A blizzard was forecast to arrive later in the day.

I’m running out of ideas, Dad, said Dr. Anne. I hoped that once we got through our first Christmas without Brad, things would start to improve. But, it’s been more than a year since he died, and Micah’s not getting better. In some ways, she’s worse.

You can’t put a schedule on grief, Annie, he said. It doesn’t work that way.

I know. She sounded tired.

Micah’s just a little stuck, that’s all, he said.

Dr. Anne’s eyes filled with tears as she thought about what he said. I’m afraid I’m losing her.

You’re not losing Micah. Jim King’s voice was reassuring. So stop worrying about that. Sounds like all you need is a course correction and a little support. He was quiet for a moment, and then he posed a question.

Have you given any more thought to leaving Boston? he said.

Yes. She sounded hesitant.

Your mom and I are serious, Annie, he continued. We’d like you and Micah to come live with us. Dr. Anne’s parents lived half way across the country in a little farming town called Sycamore.

I don’t know, Dad, she said. It’s such a big change.

You don’t have to stay with us forever, you know, just until you two are stronger.

Do you and Mom really like Sycamore? she said.

It’s the best community we’ve ever lived in, Annie, he said. The school is small but highly regarded. The people are friendly. And there isn’t a chiropractor within fifty miles of here, so it’s a great place to open a practice.

Those are all good points, said Anne, but she still sounded unconvinced.

If you’re asking for my opinion, said Jim, I think this is the best place in the world for Micah right now. He waited for her to respond but Anne was quiet, so he kept talking.

This house is more than big enough for the four of us, he said. Why, your mom is already picking out paint colors for your new rooms.

Sounds like mom, said Dr. Anne shakily.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at Dr. Anne’s door. The receptionist peeked inside.

Lobby’s filling up, she whispered brightly.

I’ll be right there. Anne McCullen brushed the tears from her face and tossed the cup of cold coffee into the trash. The time had come for her to make a decision. She had to push past her fatigue and grief and go with her instinct.

Okay, dad, she said. We’re leaving Boston. I’m bringing Micah to Sycamore.

Jim King breathed a sigh of relief. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing, Annie.

I hope so, she said.

I’ll have your mom call you tonight, he said. She’s an organizing wizard, you know. It’s sort of her super power. She’ll have your move planned in no time.

Thanks, dad, she said. I’ve got to go. My patients are waiting. Love you.

GOODBYE BOSTON

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But I don’t want to move! said Micah McCullen later that day when her mom broke the news. She was stunned by her mother’s revelation, but even more so by the fact that she’d made a decision of this magnitude without discussing it with her first.

Why do you get to decide? said Micah. Don’t I get a say?

Look, I know you and I are a team, said Dr. Anne calmly. But I’m really worried about you. Micah had lost weight in the past few months, and her skin had taken on a ghostly pallor. She looked so small and frail sitting across the kitchen counter that it startled Dr. Anne. It also strengthened her resolve to leave Boston.

I think this move will be good for both of us, said Dr. Anne.

To a little nowhere town named after a tree? said Micah. You can’t be serious. How big is Sycamore?

Your grandpa said it has about six thousand residents, said Dr. Anne.

Do you know how small that is, Mom? That’s like the entire population of my school! said Micah.

That’s exactly the point, said Dr. Anne. It’s too easy to become invisible in Boston. I don’t want you to fade out of sight here. That scares me.

I’m not fading. I have friends, said Micah.

When was the last time you spent the night at Stacy’s? asked Dr. Anne quietly.

Micah didn’t answer.

Or went shopping after school? asked Dr. Anne. Or went to the movies with any of your friends?

Okay!