Ember

by In the House

Straight from the horse's mouth . . .

A/N: Here's a single-shot for you, stepping out of Pain for just a moment, though Pain will be returning soon. It is not stuck nor on hold. I simply had this story come to me out driving and demand to be written. This idea was by request in a review many months ago, someone wanting an Ember piece like the story Belle had given the cat's POV. I have no control at all over my muse, but she occasionally decides to take a piece of offered bait, even if much later.

This takes place in the universe of my series but stands to the side of it. Timeline wise, it starts many years ago and moves on, specifically covering incidents from Superstition, The Hopes and Fears of All the Years, Process of Elimination, and Pain. You don't necessarily need to read all the series stories to enjoy this one, but for any newcomers, Thomas is House's father and is now back in his life. House takes a while to appear in this story, but he is there.

And now, straight from the horse's mouth and by request, here you are. Enjoy!

(H/C)

One of my strongest early impressions of him was his hands.

That was an early impression for both of them, actually. They have the same hands, but I didn't meet Greg until much later.

Thomas, now, I've known most of my life, and always, there have been his hands. Except for when he was gone, and then I missed them more than anything else. Strong but gentle hands, giving you a definite presence to feel but not too harsh. Horses like that. We want a leader. They are steady hands, calming me down, reminding me that he's with me even when the leaves are rattling and rabbits and other animals bounce out on the trail. I know he won't let the rabbits hurt me.

I first met Thomas one day at the barn where I had lived all my life to that point, though I was still young, no longer a filly but still a very young mare. I liked Jim, my owner, and he treated us all well and had trained me well with skill and patience. I thought in those days that I was perfectly happy with him, but there was one shadow on the barn. A simple little word, but at that barn, every horse learned it quickly if they didn't already know it when they came. Sold. Everything on the place was for sale; Jim had often said so to the people who came looking. Horses moved in, and horses moved out. Nothing stayed. Even my mother, whom he often described as his best mare, was sold the year before I met Thomas. I almost thought he was going to tell those people no; something in the set of his shoulders that made me think he didn't want to sell her, but then the piece of paper changed hands as always. She was haltered and led out to their trailer, and she was gone. Another new horse took her stall the next week. Horses don't like change; we want to know where we stand. But in four years, though a few people had looked, I never heard that word sold said about me.

The day Thomas and Emily came, I was munching hay in my stall, and I looked out curiously, putting my head over the stall door to inspect the newcomers as they entered the barn. Jim met them, looked them over, and then nodded. "You said on the phone that you had several years of riding experience, but I always look at the boots anyway. It's amazing how many people come up with that line who barely know which end the bridle goes on."

Thomas laughed. It was a good-natured, relaxed laugh, and it made me want to get closer to him. "I can imagine. I've run into my share of inflated credentials."

"So you're looking for a good pleasure horse." Jim went into describing a few of us, and I stopped munching my hay, just looking. He was tall, something that everyone always said about me, but that wasn't what caught my attention. His whole attitude jumped out at me. He felt comfortable with himself, secure, and a little sad. Then there was the woman next to him. I had seen pairs come to look at horses, but I'd never before seen any set as perfectly matched as those two. They stood closer than most of them, but it wasn't just that. They were on the same wavelength, connected to each other. Any animal at all would have known instantly that they went together.

Thomas noticed me watching him pretty quickly. Emily did, too, but they waited for Jim to finish talking. Of course, Jim had a lot of experience reading buyers, too, and he picked up right away on the connection. "Now, this," he said, going to my stall door, "is a really special mare. I bred her and broke her in myself. She's on the sensitive side, but for the right person, this would be the horse of a lifetime."

Thomas stepped up on the other side and reached for me - for my neck, not for my head like people who don't know horses do - and I felt those hands for the first time. It was like coming home, meeting something I hadn't ever realized I'd been missing.

The rest of the day was only a formality for both of us. Thomas knew as well as I did from that first moment. He rode me, and when Jim said he'd never seen me look better with a rider, I think he really meant it, not just sales pitch. Not that I'd been ridden by many other people. Most of the prospective buyers called me spooky or just too tall. But with Thomas, it just fit. Everything just fit.

That was the beginning, and the word sold wasn't frightening after all. I went eagerly onto the trailer when it came, because he was leading me. From then on, most of the time, we were together.

Oh, the fun we had. Trail riding. Jumping. Learning tricks and showing them off to Emily. Emily didn't always come out to the barn with him, but she came once or twice a week. Emily liked horses and thought I was beautiful; she often told me so. She didn't ride, but she wasn't afraid. She just enjoyed watching Thomas enjoy me, I think. We wouldn't take trail rides those days, and Emily would stand beside the ring and observe.

Out on the trail rides, the days Emily wasn't there and the days Lewis didn't go with us were the days that Thomas really started to talk to me. I couldn't understand everything, but I could read his feelings that went along with the words. His hands were always steady, but something deep inside him hurt when he talked about Tim. Tim was his son, he said. He told me all about Tim, how he had liked horses, how he had liked to laugh, how he had been killed in an accident. Thomas talked about other people, too, his parents and somehow another Tim, but his son Tim was what hit him hardest. I could tell. Even the good memories of Tim were a little sad for him.

Then Emily got sick. I knew before either of them did, but there was no way to tell them. Her whole sense, her smell, her energy changed. But Thomas still talked about Tim most, and he never talked about being worried about Emily. He didn't know.

The day he did mention it first on a trail ride, he was worried but not too much and said she was going to the doctor for a few tests. Then came a week where he didn't come out to the stable at all, and when he did, it was an unforgettable day.

For the first time ever, his hands weren't quite steady. When we got away from the stable and onto the trails, they started actually shaking. He wasn't talking to me at all that day; instead, he pushed me like he never had before. We galloped and galloped and galloped like something was chasing us and we couldn't get away from it. I was getting upset at the change in him and also growing tired, but he never seemed to notice. When the deer jumped out of the woods and I spooked, I tripped, almost going to my knees but barely catching myself in time. Thomas hadn't been paying attention to me at all and wasn't ready, and he popped right off over my shoulder.

That scared me worse, and I had to bolt for a little way, but I was too tired by that point to go far, and when I stopped, I went back to him. He was familiar, the most familiar thing around, even if he was acting very strange today.

He was just sitting on the ground, kind of drawn in together. I was afraid I'd hurt him for a moment, but he straightened up when I trotted to him. He looked at me in surprise, then stood up and stroked my steaming neck. Sweat was dripping off of me, off of both of us. "Oh, Ember," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize what we were doing."

He got back on and walked me all the long way home, cooling me out slowly, and I got an extra carrot back at the stable along with an especially thorough grooming. We never repeated that blind flight, but that was the start of things really getting bad for me and Thomas.

Emily still came to the barn, just not as often, but every time, I could tell she was worse. Thomas himself didn't feel totally well to me, and he got a lot more irregular about coming out. Of course, he and Emily had always taken trips a few times a year, but he would tell me goodbye and that he'd be back, and he'd come back in a good mood. Now, there wasn't a reliable schedule, nothing to predict. I never knew what was going to happen on any day, and it made me uneasy. Sometimes it would be a week or more, and even though I was turned out in the paddock every day, I couldn't help being extra fidgety when he finally returned to tack me up. I'd try to stand still and show him how glad I was to see him, but my legs would prance a little in spite of myself.

Then came that day that the once-dreaded word popped up. Sold. Thomas and Lewis had taken a trail ride together, something they hardly ever did anymore, and Thomas was talking to Lewis as we trotted through the woods. "I think Ember would be happier if she was sold."

I tossed my head and clamped my teeth on the bit. I couldn't help it. Sold? From here? From him?

Lewis gave a forced-sounding laugh. "She disagrees with you, Thomas."

"This isn't fair to her. I can't spend as much time with her as she needs anymore, and...it's only going to get worse before it gets better." Thomas sighed. "I can get another horse someday when Emily is well."

Lewis sighed himself. Houdini and I trotted on quietly for a little ways, and then Lewis said, "What if I leased her?"

"What?" Thomas tightened up the reins, and I dropped to a walk.

"I've ridden her a few times when you've let me. I know it's not like her and you, but we get along well enough. I could keep her exercised; I've got the time. And any day that you could ride, she'd be right here. You don't need to let this horse go, Thomas. You two were made for each other. Besides, Emily admires her. Prettiest horse you've ever had; you've heard her say so."

"I hate to put off my responsibilities on you," Thomas said.

"Stop it. You've helped me out plenty of times. I want to, Thomas. Don't sell Ember. You're going to need her for yourself when . . ." Lewis stopped, but Thomas knew what he meant, and he reacted the way he always did if anyone suggested that Emily was dying. She was, of course; all the animals already knew. But it made Thomas mad.

"Emily is going to get well. Period." He turned me back toward the stable and picked up a trot again.

Houdini turned and caught up with us after a minute, having to stretch his legs and work at it. Thomas was pushing me in a fast trot, though he had never again gone crazy like he did that one day. "Just think about it, Thomas. As long as you need, I can take care of her, and that way, she'll still be right here for you."

I never heard Thomas actually agree, but he must have, because more and more, it was Lewis who took me out and not Thomas. Thomas still tried to see me now and then, and he had me trained to pull the buggy so Emily could come along. But as Emily kept getting worse, even sitting there eventually made her tired, and Thomas was feeling more and more off to me himself. He was too tired, too thin, and his visits got further and further apart.

Then came the long year where it was only Lewis. I even wondered if I had been sold, because Thomas was never there now, but Lewis would still mention him. He would tell me he had sent Thomas a message that I was fine or had sent him a picture. I got restless myself that year; I couldn't help it. Lewis was a good man and a good rider, but only Thomas had his hands. Or so I thought then.

I'll never forget the day he came back. He looked a little different, and he still didn't totally feel well to me somehow, but he walked in the stable door just as he usually did, calling out, "How's my girl?" I nearly pushed the stall door down to get to him. He came into the stall, and before he put my halter on, he pushed his face up against my neck, like he was smelling me. I was smelling him, too, changed but undoubtedly him. I heard him say very softly, right next to my ear, "She's gone, Ember. She's really gone." Then he gave me a pat with those incomparable hands and said, "I've missed you."

We took an extra long trail ride that day. I was so glad to have him back, and I was trying to cheer him up, trotting fast like he liked, pricking my ears and looking off in the distance so he could try to figure out what I was seeing like he always did. We were together again.

Not many days later, he vanished once more, not saying anything to me, and again it was Lewis. For the first time ever, I started putting up a fight, deliberately acting up under saddle and not just being spooked like I can get at times. It wasn't that I didn't like Lewis; I did. But he wasn't Thomas. I didn't want another whole year without Thomas. Lewis understood, and as much as I gave him a hard time, he never lost patience with me. "He'll come back, Ember," he'd tell me. "I don't know what's going on right now, but he will come back to us eventually."

Thomas wasn't gone nearly that long this time, but when he did return, he was changed even more. He was mad about something; I could tell. Never at me but at something or somebody else. He felt like he wanted a fight but that the person he wanted to fight wasn't around to let him. Then he would flip back suddenly to being sad. It was like when he talked about Tim but even worse.

A new name started creeping in on our private trail rides. Greg. From what I heard, I eventually worked out that Greg was Thomas' son, like Tim, but Greg was mad at Thomas. I couldn't understand how anybody could be mad at Thomas, but he said Greg was, and he also said it was his own fault. Sometimes when we'd get back home and he was unsaddling me, I'd push my head up against his chest, trying to tell him that whatever was wrong, I knew it wasn't his fault. He'd smile, but it wasn't quite the same smile, not the one he'd had back with Emily, and he'd pat me and tell me I was a good friend.

Then came another memorable trail ride but not like the one where we had tried to run away. Thomas was riding me through the woods when his phone rang. He pulled it out to talk to it like they do, and his whole body tightened up. I felt it clear through legs, hands, everything, and I stopped in confusion. He froze for a second, then nearly snatched at the phone. "Greg? Hello?"

I stood and pricked my ears, but I couldn't see Greg or what had changed. I knew something had, something major. This was new, and life wouldn't ever be the same. Thomas told me that in his breathing, in his heartbeat, in the feel of his legs and hands and the scent of him.

He nudged me back into a walk, and he talked to Greg as we went along the trail. The words sounded like ordinary words to me, the kind everybody had on their phones, but Thomas was still letting me know how big this was. Maybe Greg wasn't mad at him anymore. He'd never talked to Greg before, not while I was around.

After a few minutes, he leaned forward and tapped me on the neck as he said, "Ember, say hi to Greg." I knew what he wanted; it was our latest trick, the first one he had taught me since Emily died. The old tricks had been partly for her, to make her smile, but this new one was really mostly for Thomas and me, and he did it a lot when nobody else was around. I whinnied, and Thomas gave me a scratch on the withers. He kept talking to Greg, having me whinny a few more times, and then hung up.

"That was Greg, Ember," he said. "He called me. He called me." All at once, there was a surge of joy like I hadn't felt from him since before Emily got sick. We were almost back to the stable, but he rode me on past it and a little ways beyond, extending our ride, and he was reciting new names to himself: Rachel and Abby.

That call was the start of things getting better. It was slow, and Thomas still got mad and felt sad at times out on our rides, but he also felt excited. He talked to me even more; he'd always said that I was the best one he knew at keeping his secrets. When Lewis came out with us, Thomas never mentioned Greg or Rachel or Abby or Lisa, the latest name.

It was getting into the winter when he showed up at the barn one day that nobody else was there. He had the bells that he used to use now and then on the harness when Emily went with us, and he jingled them all around me to get me used to them again, then tied them onto the saddle. That day was one of our best trail rides; he was in a great mood. We even took a jump, something we hadn't done in a few years, and as we walked back home, he talked about Greg, Lisa, Rachel, and Abby some more. They were his family, he said. He also asked me that day how I'd like to move. I didn't much like the thought of moving, but that word was a lot better than sold. As long as he moved, too, I could handle it.

A few days later, Thomas came out to the stable early in the morning, while Bob was still feeding us breakfast. He told Bob that he'd be gone for a few days, and then he came into the stall and told me goodbye and that he'd be back before long. I wondered if he and Greg were going on a trip like he and Emily used to, but at least I knew he'd be back this time.

He even talked to me once while he was gone, his voice coming out of the phone, and Bob kept cuing me to whinny. I got tired of that soon enough, just constant asking and without Thomas' hands, but the voices on the phone kept my attention. Not just Thomas but another voice, much younger, a child. Rachel, he called her. That was Rachel. I've never really liked very little children much - too abrupt, too flighty, and too shrill - but Thomas had talked so much about Rachel that I was interested in hearing her.

Thomas came back in an even better mood. He was kind of singing to himself now and then, and we started jumping again regularly. Even Lewis noticed his good mood and asked him once about it, but Thomas avoided the question. I guess he didn't think Lewis could keep secrets as well as I can.

There was another trip about a month later, just a few days, and Thomas again told me goodbye and that he'd be back. Then came the trip toward the end of winter. Thomas was hurt when he came home from that one. I could tell from the way he moved, and he had the scent of pain on him. He even asked me to be careful the first few times he rode after that, and I did my best. Finally, he started talking to Lewis about Greg, Lisa, Rachel, and Abby, and he talked to me, too, all the time when we were alone. He told me that we were definitely moving and going to a new stable. There were a few more short trips, and then came the day that the big truck came for me. Thomas had left earlier that week, but Lewis came out to say goodbye to me and feed me a whole bag of carrots. I pushed my nose up against him, letting him know that I liked him and that I knew it wasn't his fault that he wasn't Thomas.

The trailer ride was the longest I've ever taken. There was hay, and every few hours, they gave us water. The men were nice, but it was all so strange that I couldn't help being worried by the time we finally stopped. We'd stopped before to load or unload a horse, but my turn came at this new place, and the man led me to the top of the ramp.

The whole feel of the stable was different. The air was strange, the trees were strange, and the smells, even with familiar things like other horses or hay blended in, were all unfamiliar. I would have known even without the trip that this was a long, long way from our old home.

Then I smelled Thomas, and nothing else mattered. I whinnied at him, and he was there waiting for me, just like he'd promised.

And Greg. Lisa, Rachel, and Abby were waiting, too, but it was Greg who stood out to me. He was as tall as Thomas, and he smelled like pain, but he was also curious and interested. Most grown-ups aren't that curious anymore, but he was trying to see everything, like a foal. Thomas does that himself, like when I see something on the trail and he tries to work it out, but most adults don't. When we started walking to the paddock, I saw that Greg was lame, but he still moved smoothly somehow. Nothing here would ever startle a horse.

After I galloped and had a good roll, Thomas led me over to the gate, and I got to meet the others up close. Well, pretty much up close. Lisa stayed back, and I could tell she was scared. Greg held Abby, and the new barn manager, Marilyn, held Rachel. The girls were interesting, younger than I liked them, but Rachel obviously was trying so hard to be gentle and quiet, and Abby had that same curiosity that Greg did and that Thomas does sometimes.

Greg touched me himself at one point, and that was when it hit me. He had Thomas' hands. I hadn't thought anyone else in the world did, but he had Thomas' same hands. They were steady, capable hands. You felt like he could deal with anything. Underneath that and the curiosity and the pain, though, he felt a little tense. Not with me, like Lisa was, but with Thomas. I wondered why. Thomas had said many times that Greg was mad at him, but Greg didn't feel mad at all, just edgy. He was looking at Thomas a little bit like I look at the rustling leaves, wondering what's in them about to jump out. I kept waiting for Thomas to touch him and tell him, "Steady, now, it's not going to hurt us," like he does with me to let me know everything's all right, but he didn't.

Settling into the new place wasn't too bad. This was a nice stable and even had more children, at least younger ones, than our old stable. Rachel and Abby came regularly to visit, Rachel always pushing forward, Abby always watching. Lisa stayed back a little, but she was trying to work on her fear. Greg, now, had no fear, not of me. He got right up to me, helping Rachel, sometimes pointing things out to Abby. They really weren't bad for young kids, I decided. Thomas even let Rachel assist with grooming me, though I heard him tell her she couldn't ride me.

I was glad, because I didn't really want children riding me, but I wondered at times if Greg would. It would be interesting to have Greg ride me. Maybe his lame leg was what stopped him, because I could tell that the same thought had occurred to him now and then.

Then came another landmark day. Thomas had started driving me again, telling me we needed to get ready for Greg and for Rachel, and this day, Greg went out for a drive with us. I was trotting along enjoying the trail, and Greg and Thomas were sitting in the buggy not quite close together. Greg was relaxing more around Thomas as time went on, but I still wished Thomas would just touch him with those hands and settle him down. It seemed to me like it would make Greg trust him so much faster.

All at once, Thomas handed Greg the lines. He caught me off guard, and I sped up a little, uncertain, but Greg's touch was so much like Thomas' that he soon had me back on stride. They were a lot alike, these two. If it weren't for Greg's pain and ever-present tension, they would feel very similar, but somehow, Greg always managed to keep that tension out of his hands. I had noticed that even when he was standing beside me or helping Rachel groom. The wariness, that slight spookiness that I sensed was in him, not in his hands. They were always calm, steady, competent, and gentle. Hands that you trusted.

It was obvious as Greg drove me that he really hadn't had much training with horses. He wasn't as skillful at this as Thomas was, but he wasn't bad at all for a beginner, and he loved it. There was a joy, an exhilaration in him that carried straight down the lines, and I arched my neck and stepped along gladly.

Thomas took the lines back before we returned to the stable, and he held me still while Greg slowly climbed out with his leg hurting. Thomas was humming as he gave me a good grooming afterwards, and I got more carrots than usual.

After that, Greg came out to drive me about once a week. Thomas was giving him lessons on techniques, and once in a while, that tension flared up between them when Thomas was critiquing him, but Greg really did want to learn to do it right. I could tell. Overall, they were becoming much more relaxed with each other, or rather, Greg was with Thomas. Thomas had never had a problem with Greg in the first place. He completely liked and trusted him; any animal could see that.

Getting into winter, Rachel started taking riding lessons, to my relief not on me. She still helped with grooming me, and she was getting more proficient at it all the time. Greg himself had started helping with grooming me, not just using Rachel as a pretense.

A few weeks later, Thomas came out with the jingle bells on the harness, and all of us went out for a drive except Lisa. Lisa stayed at the stable, but she took pictures. Thomas was driving me, and Greg had Rachel sitting next to him, in between them, and Abby in his lap. It was a cold but clear day, and I trotted along soaking up the feelings behind me. Pure happiness from Thomas, almost like those moments back in the days of Emily when he wasn't thinking about Tim. Rachel was delighted and trying hard not to squeal, though I heard the soft sounds she made now and then. Abby was curious and asking about different things on the harness. Greg sat there, as happy as Thomas was even though he tried not to sound it when he spoke. Greg's like that; he wants to hide some even when he's in a good mood.

I kept waiting for Greg to take the lines from Thomas, but he never did, not that day. Later on, though, back at the barn, when everyone had gone out to the car, Greg came back down the aisle alone walking as fast as his lame leg would allow him to. He stopped at my stall, and he pulled out a small carrot from his pocket. "Here, Ember," he said. "For a horse, you're not bad. And . . .thanks for the driving. And why am I talking to the horse? This is crazy."

He was patting me on the neck as I crunched the carrot when Thomas came down the aisle. He stopped at the stall, and Greg jumped back as if embarrassed to be caught patting me. I tossed my head, and Thomas gave me a pat himself. "Did you come back to tell Ember Merry Christmas?"

Greg scoffed, but there was something different between these two. I could tell. The tension, slowly dissipating over the last several months, was barely there at all right now. He was almost relaxed, the best I had ever seen him around Thomas. "Tell Ember Merry Christmas? How stupid can you get, old man? I'm not really into Merry Christmasing the world, and she can't understand, and even if she did have the concept, she can't answer back."

"Actually, she can. It's all right, Greg. I wish her the best on Christmas every year."

"Those are just words; they don't really mean anything. And she only answers when you cue her to."

"No, she doesn't. Abby wouldn't believe me, but she does talk to me. She really talks to me sometimes."

"Mrs. Ed? You ought to sell the idea for a new TV show."

They were playing. They were playing, like foals in a pasture, and I had never seen that from them before, not mutually. "We'd better get back out to the car before Rachel rebels and escapes the car seat." They turned away, side by side, and Thomas called back to me. "Merry Christmas, Ember."

I whinnied back at him, and Greg turned to him suspiciously. "How did you do that?"

"I didn't. She did. Come on, Greg, let's go home."

I watched them walk up the aisle, then turned back to my hay rack, knowing that he would be back again soon. They both would. And I would be waiting.