Page 26 of Sunny Skies Ahead
Imogen shrugged and readjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
“I suppose so. I guess it’s different for me, since I practically grew up in that house. My Grandma would stand at the kitchen counter all day, cooking and preparing meals, teaching me about the most random topics.”
“She sounds wonderful,” I said.
Imogen smiled fondly.
“She was. Growing up biracial in a small town, even one like Watford, is hard. My relationship with my family is complicated, but my relationship with my Nana was unshakeable.”
Imogen shook her head. “I miss her a lot. Living in her house the last few years has hit me harder than I expected. Everywhere I look, I see her. And in some ways, it’s a reminder that I really haven’t done much up to this point in my life.”
I pressed my lips together to hold back a frown.
“I get not being where you want to be. I think you and I are similar in that way. We want to achieve all our goals and we’re not willing to make as many concessions as other people are. But you have done things, Imogen.”
I stopped in front of the horse pasture, hopping up onto the first wooden rung of the fence and whistling for Memphis to come over. Reckless was grazing further back in the pasture, but he rarely came when called anyway. Chesty was an old soulwho liked to hang out near the barn. Memphis, on the other hand, loved himself some pets. The horse trotted over to us.
“You’re right,” Imogen said, dropping her bag and hopping up on the fence next to me. “I’m just at a weird point right now. If I’m melancholic or distant, don’t take it personally.”
Imogen sighed, regarding Memphis as he pressed his head against my chest. I responded in kind, stroking his neck.
“I think maybe I don’t know the person I am right now. I’m a stranger to myself. And that scares me.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “I get that.”
Imogen reached out, and Memphis nuzzled her palm with his nose, snorting in approval. Imogen’s soft smile undid something in me.
“You know who you are, don’t you?” Imogen said, stroking Memphis’s mane. “Maybe you can help me figure out who I’m supposed to be.”
Memphis merely pressed his forehead to hers. Imogen gasped softly, but didn’t pull away. She continued to stroke his mane, and I stood there, transfixed by the beauty of the moment.
I’d seen this interaction so many times, but seeing that connection with Imogen truly stole the breath from my lungs.
Horses had a way of connecting with us on a primal level. Horses saw us as more than the sum of our past experiences and trauma. They had a way of showing love and care, even to those who felt undeserving of such love. I’d seen Memphis and Reckless march right up to grown men who felt like they would never be whole again, and watched as they held these horsesand sobbed, clinging to them as if the world would disappear beneath them.
For many, this moment was a bridge to the next part of their life. It was an opportunity to break from the past and step into a new future.
“Thank you,” Imogen whispered, pressing the softest of kisses to Memphis’s muzzle. The horse snorted softly before trotting away, back to the middle of the pasture where he’d been grazing earlier.
I didn’t say a word as we stepped down from the fence. Imogen grabbed her bag, wiping swiftly at her eyes before I continued down the path.
“We can walk around the far side of the pasture, and I’ll show you the orchard and the crop fields.”
I looked back to see that Imogen was still standing near the fence, looking out at the pasture. I walked back towards her, and she gave me an apologetic smile.
“Sorry. I know I came here with the purpose of learning more about Winding Road, but. . .”
“You can be honest with me,” I said, offering her a small smile. “You can tell me that interaction with Memphis brought up a lot for you, and you’d much rather go back to the tiny house where you can have a cup of tea and curl up with a book and take a few hours for yourself before you get on the road.”
Imogen looked at me, pure shock written on her face.
“There’s no way you’ve deduced all that in a matter of hours.”
“We’ve known each other for months,” I reminded her gently. “You can keep your secrets, Imogen Phillips. But that won’t stop me from trying to untangle them.”
Imogen gave me a coy smile.
“As much as a day in that gorgeous tiny house sounds enticing, I do need to head back to Watford tonight, so unfortunately that relaxing staycation will have to wait until this weekend.”
