It was two in the morning. 'Crazy…' muttered a small voice at the very back of Amy's mind. Maybe it was, but she had to go, nonetheless. She closed the screen door behind herself and slid down the porch steps. In her hands, taking the place of her torch which had finally died, was the small light of a flickering candle, cupped in a jam jar. But she was led across the yard, up ahead, by the more constant light coming from underneath the barn door. As she went she kicked with her slippers at the ridges made by the tyre marks in the gravel.
At first glance it looked as though the barn was empty. The centre aisle was swept clear, all the buckets and bins stacked away to the side. Amy took two steps inside. The door to Lou's office was closed; the lights on the stairs were out. She turned full circle, then moved forwards, down the centre, over the small discoloured patch on the floor. And stopped. There was Ty.
When he saw her Ty sniffed quickly and rubbed his hand over his face. He knew his eyes were red, but they'd been the same when he'd left the house, what, five hours ago now? Spartan, who'd settled down next to him in the straw, gave a snort and kicked lightly in his sleep. Ty gently rubbed the old horse's ebony back.
"Can I come in?" Amy leaned gently on the stall door, reaching over to undo the bolt. Ty bit his lip and nodded, watching his hand as it moved backwards and forwards over the horse's smooth coat. Amy crossed the straw and sat down, drawing her knees up and cupping her arms around her pyjama legs. Ty, she noticed, was still dressed as he had been earlier. "Ty…" She began; but he lifted a hand, wavering and blinking fiercely. "No Amy. It's over, okay? We don't need to talk about it."
She looked him in the face, but Ty turned away again, focusing, distracting himself with Spartan. Was he serious? With a sigh she bent forward and rubbed away a patch of the straw, leaving a tiny hollow for her candle. Ty turned to watch her. Without a word she placed the little jam jar on the concrete, and turning back reached and took hold of both of his hands. She felt him resist, felt his fingers pull away at first touch. But Amy wouldn't let go; she gently but forcefully pulled his arms round, forcing his face towards hers, and looked straight into those deep brown eyes, through the film of pain. "Ty…" He looked down and opened his lips to start a refusal but Amy lifted her hand and placed one finger delicately on his lips. His beautifully startled eyes followed her. "Ty; back in there…" She paused and drew in a quick breath. "I'm sorry, if…if any of the stuff I said…if it wasn't what you wanted…if you wanted to tell them something else, and leave with them."
She was silent. Ty was silent. All of his energy seemed to have left him. His head fell forwards and he leant his forehead against hers, closing his stinging eyes, rimmed with fresh tears. Only the flickering light of the candle came through them. The glowing warmth of it lingered in her fingers, in his hand and on his lip still. They stayed there, unmoving, for what seemed an eternity. But then Ty felt Amy's delicate, cooling finger leave his lips and her hand ran through the back of his hair. He opened his eyes the tiniest bit; hers were closed, with single luminous tears gathering on the lashes at their corners, and bending in the slightest way, he kissed her. "Why," he whispered, "would you ever, ever, think I would want anything else?" Amy's lips twitched and she smiled, sniffing and opening her eyes to look through her lashes across the inch of space between their faces. But then her eyes grew sombre again. "Because you…you weren't looking at me. All that time I was trying to explain myself, you were looking…through me? Like you were seeing something else. And your face; your eyes…Ty, I couldn't bear what whatever you were seeing was making you feel. And how what I was saying was making you feel."
"Amy; none of that was your fault."
"But if I hadn't said it; then, I don't know, maybe everything would have been easier. I don't want you to lose your mother because of me. Ty, I know how much that hurts. I couldn't bear…"
She swallowed and blinked, not knowing what else to say. But Ty's eyes had hardened. "No, Amy. I haven't lost her. I haven't lost either of them. They're always going to be there, and, I dunno, one day she'll probably come back, trying to say it was all a mistake and that I'm the only one that ever stood by her. But Amy…" His whisper broke slightly; but Ty could not stop now. Inside he gave a tiny smile through his feelings as he realised how she'd managed to get him to open up despite himself. "But, what you said made me realise what I really thought all along. It wasn't just that I hated them both and that I never wanted to see them again. Because that's too black and white. That's what the old Ty would have done; and then a few months later he would have forgotten all about it, gotten himself into some other stupid situation. That's even how mum works now. But you made me see that this place…"He glanced side to side at the glowing timbers of the barn, at the quietly breathing horse. "This place; and the people here, have change me so as I don't need to be that person any more." He smiled and hoped she would too, but Amy held back a little. "I know it sounds corny; but you gave me the truth, and I can't ask, and can't want, more than that." He stroked the golden hair back from her fringe. Amy blinked one more time, deciding one last thing. She sighed. She understood everything he'd said; even if he was right and it did sound like a throwaway daytime drama, but she knew in herself that there was one thing she could never give up on so easily.
"Ty…they…they are you fami…"
But this time it was Ty's turn to raise his hand to her lips. "No; no they're not. I stopped having anything called that years ago."
He kissed her again, quickly and lightly, and reaching out his arms spun her round so that she was sitting against him, inside his arms, with the candle lighting them from beneath in the warmth of the stall. "Until I came here."