Page 1 of 15 Summers Later

1

The present is a delicate tightrope walk between liberation and the haunting memories that cling to us. The scent of freedom is both intoxicating and terrifying, and each step away from the compound feels like a small victory against the darkness that threatened to consume us.

—Ghost Lakeby Ava Howell Brooks

Madison

“Here, let me get that for you. You shouldn’t be grabbing heavy bags of food off the shelf without help. You might hurt yourself, honey.”

At the well-meaning but misguided efforts of her seventy-year-old neighbor, Madison Howell tried not to grind her teeth.

Under other circumstances, she might have thought the old rancher was being misogynistic, assuming any young woman was too fragile and frail to heft a fifty-pound bag of dog food onto her cart.

Unfortunately, she knew that wasn’t the case. Calvin Warner simply thoughtshecouldn’t do it.

How could she blame him, when the majority of her neighbors shared his sentiments, believing she was forever damaged?

“It’s fine. I’ve got it,” she insisted, taking a firm hold of the bag.

“Now, don’t be stubborn. Let me help you.”

He set his cane aside—yes, he actually had a cane!—and all but shoved her out of the way.

Short of engaging in a no-holds-barred, Greco-Roman wrestling match right there in the farm supply store with a curmudgeon who had arthritis and bad knees, Madi didn’t know what else to do but watch in frustration while he lifted the bag onto her large platform cart.

“Thank you,” she said as graciously as she could manage. “Now I need five more bags.”

“Five?” Calvin looked aghast.

“Yes. We have twenty-two dogs right now at the rescue. You don’t need a new Aussie, do you? We have four from an abandoned litter.”

“No. I’m afraid not. I’m a border collie man myself and I have three of them. Twenty-two dogs. My word. That must be a lot of work.”

Yes, the work required to care for the animals at the Emerald Creek Animal Rescue was endless. All twenty-two dogs, ten cats, two llamas, three potbellied pigs, four goats, two miniature horses and a donkey required food, attention, medical care, exercise and, unfortunately, waste cleanup.

Madi didn’t care. She loved the work and adored every one of their animals. After years of dreaming, planning, struggling, she considered it something of a miracle that the animal shelter was fully operational now.

For the past three months, Madi had been running full tilt, juggling her job as a veterinary tech as well as the hours and hours required to organize her team of volunteers, hire a full-time office assistant and do her part caring for the animals.

She was finally ready to take a huge leap of faith. In only a few more weeks, she would be quitting her job as a veterinary technician at the local clinic so that she could work full-time as the director of the animal rescue.

She tried to ignore the panic that always flickered through her when she thought of leaping into the unknown.

“The dogs are easy,” she answered Calvin now. “Don’t get me started on the goats and the potbellied pigs.”

“I heard you were doing something over there at Gene Pruitt’s old place. I had no idea you were up to your eyeballs in animals.”

“Yes. We’ve started the first no-kill animal sanctuary in this area. Our goal is to take in any abandoned, injured or ill-treated animal in need, help rehabilitate them and place them in new homes.”

He blinked in surprise, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Is that right? Are there really that many animals in need of help in these parts?”

“Yes. Without question. We have no other no-kill shelters serving this area of Idaho. I’m grateful we have been able to fill that need.”

For years, since finishing college and returning to Emerald Creek, Madi had been struggling to start the shelter. She had modest success applying for grants and seeking donations from various national and local donors, but it still seemed out of reach.

A year ago, the sanctuary had come closer than ever to reality when a crusty old local bachelor with no remaining family had left his twenty-acre farm, as well as a small house on the property, to the Emerald Creek Animal Rescue Foundation.

She was still overwhelmed at Eugene Pruitt’s generosity.

---