79 “Well, this is a good place to be looking around.” He grinned. “My name’s Jeremiah. What’s yours?” “It’s Jake,” I said. “What are you doing?” Jeremiah said he was cleaning the horse’s hooves. When he beckoned me closer, he showed me the hoof pick he used. I made a face. “Doesn’t it hurt her?” “Naw,” said Jeremiah. He patted the horse’s side. “She stands still. She’s a good girl.” “Has she got a name?” I said. “For sure,” Jeremiah said. “Her name is Lucy.” I took a step backward as a new wave of nausea hit me. I wanted to say, That was my little sister’s name. I wanted to shove the thought out of my brain. I wanted to run away. The mare looked at me with her big, brown, understanding eyes that reached into my heart. I stepped forward to put my hand on her nose, and her breath warmed my palm, and the churning in my stomach calmed down, just a little. So, I didn’t run away. But I also didn’t tell Jeremiah about my sister. I couldn’t. I can’t. “Want to try your hand at cleaning her hoof?” Jeremiah offered, holding the hoof pick toward me. I took it, and knelt beside him in the straw. December 23, 2:00pm
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