Strong Links

Chapter 6: Six Years Later (an Epilogue of Sorts)

I awoke with Ian beside me. His chest rose and fell lightly as he snored on, sleeping peacefully. His face was relaxed and peaceful as I watched him, smiling.

I laid back in bed and thought back. Six years had passed. I was now a twenty-one-year-old college graduate. Ian, meanwhile, was now twenty-four years old and had taken over as our stable manager when Jonah had reluctantly agreed to retire. Our farm had grown so much and become so popular for retraining horses that Ian had agreed to move in, so we had built a cottage on the farm property, next to the main farmhouse I had grown up in. Ian and I had dated steadily over the last six years, and I had moved in with him two years ago. Sure, it had only been a move next door, but it was still momentous for me, and for Ian. And of course, Mom was all tears and smiles.

As I laid peacefully in bed, I noticed that there was a definite change in the air. Slowly, without waking Ian, I slid out from the blankets and tucked my feet into my slippers before walking to the window and looking out.

A thick white blanket of snow was icing the land. It must have snowed overnight, just in time to give our farm its first white Christmas in years. The yard was still peaceful as the sun slowly rose behind the treetops. The view was amazing. I stood and watched a moment longer, a wide grin spreading across my face. Then I went to wake Ian to share this with him.

“Ian,” I murmured into his ear, my brown hair falling forwards and tickling his cheek. Making a face and trying to swat my hair away like a pesky fly, he reluctantly sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “What’s up, Hailee?” he asked groggily, still half-asleep. I smiled and pulled him to his feet, tugging him over to the window. He awoke fully then and watched with me as the sun finished rising. He wrapped his arm around me and I rested my head against his bare chest. Ian bent his tousled head and lightly kissed the top of my hair, both of us smiling as we gazed out the window.

As the sun finished its ascent into the sky, Ian and I slipped our housecoats on. Then, we went downstairs, where Ian told me to put on my boots. I complied, frowning. Then Ian slid a handkerchief around my eyes, blinding me, and took my hand. He led me outside.

As the smell of hay, saddle oil, and leather met me, I knew we were in the barn. “Ian, why are we in the barn?” I asked with a giggle. “The presents are inside, under the tree, remember?” Ian squeezed my hand since I couldn’t see him smile. “I know. Just wait.”

Finally, we stopped. Ian pulled off the blindfold and I saw that we were standing in front of a long-empty stall. The half door was closed, but there was a piece of laminated paper pinned to the door that had never been there before. To the right of that, something rectangular, also hanging on the door, was covered by a cloth.

I read the paper.

Name: Poetry in Motion

Breed: Thoroughbred

Gender: Mare (female)

Date of birth: May 12, 2000

Height: 16.3 hands

Colour: Gray

Distinctive markings: dappled coat, white star on forehead, white snip on muzzle

Parenting: SIRE (Father): Ceaseless Motion. DAM (Mother): Poetic Metaphor.

It went on in the same way.

“Ian,” I said slowly, “this is a horse’s pedigree.”

Ian didn’t answer me as he unhooked the latch on the top half of the door. Instantly, there was a nicker from inside the stall. Slowly, I stepped forward as a horse put its elegant head over the half door. On its halter was a brass nameplate reading Poetry in Motion. I gasped and with a trembling hand, reached up to rub the horse’s forehead. Ian had removed the cloth covering something on the side of the stall to reveal a plaque with the horse’s name on it. At the bottom was engraved To Hailee. Love always, Ian.

I turned to Ian. “She’s mine?”

Ian nodded. “Yep. Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, Ian,” I said happily, hugging him. He turned me back towards the stall. “That’s not all,” he said with a devilish grin.

I looked into the stall. Poetry in Motion had her head inside her feed bucket and was nosing at something inside it, snorting gleefully at her newfound toy. Something clinked as Poetry in Motion played with it. She snorted and drew back, eyes glinting, as it made a particularly loud noise.

Instinctively, I entered the stall to see. I gently took the mare’s halter and turned her away from the bucket. Then I peered inside the bucket.

There was a dull glint of gold.

Slowly, I reached into the bucket and pulled out a diamond ring. I looked at it silently, unaware of Ian entering the stall. He put his arm around my shoulders and looked me in the eyes as he said, “Hailee, will you marry me?”

I looked up at him, a smile spreading quickly on my face. “YES!” I yelled, so loudly that several horses, Poetry in Motion included, snorted in surprise. I jumped up at Ian and he caught me in a swift hug.

I kissed him happily, Ian holding me tight. When he set me down, he took the ring from my hand and slid it onto the third finger of my left hand. Then we simply beamed at each other, our foreheads leaning against the other’s. Poetry in Motion, meanwhile, glanced into her feed bucket and seemed dismayed to find that her toy was gone, swishing her tail impatiently.

Mom’s head appeared over the stall door, along with Joanna’s. Joanna was a young girl of seventeen years old or so, just out of high school, who we had hired when the farm had expanded. “Hey, guys, what’s up?” she asked. “Nice horse,” she added as she saw Poetry in Motion.

Mom hadn’t said anything. Then, in a low voice, she said, “Hailee, is that a ring on your finger, or am I seeing things?”

I grinned. “No, Mom. You’re not seeing things!” Ian smiled, holding me close.

Joanna’s jaw dropped. She knew how close Ian and I were and I had told her all about us, including how long we had been dating for. Lately she had taken to teasing me that Ian would propose anytime.

“Oh my God!” cried Joanna suddenly. “You guys are engaged!”

Ian and I grinned. “Yeah, I guess so,” said Ian in a calm voice, though his huge grin betrayed him.

Suddenly Jonah, who still visited despite his retirement, popped his head over the stall door. “What’s all the fuss?” he asked curiously.

Ian winked at me. Then, in a light voice, he told me,

“Your turn to answer this one, Hailee.”

END OF CHAPTER AND OF STORY

Author’s note: Yes, I’m ending it like this. Hope you like it! R&R please!!

If you feel there absolutely HAS to be a sequel to this story, then don’t hesitate to email me at with “Strong Links — SEQUEL” as your subject line. However, if you do that, please tell me WHY you want a sequel. Hope that doesn’t discourage you from writing! I just wanna know why . . . I’m a curious person. P

Thankies once again to all those who have read and reviewed along the way. I owe you bigtime.

More stories coming soon!

— Lack of Luck