Changes of Heart Read Online Free Page B

then?”
    Rich’s response was a bit slow in coming. “Sure—that’ll be fine. By the time you get to our place I’ll be back from Toole, with the test flight behind me. We’ll talk then, OK?”
    What sounded like a tornado approaching from the west snapped Brad Stuart’s eyes to the sky. The sound became a high-pitched, screeching, all-encompassing roar, and five jet fighters in a tight V formation blasted toward the church. Directly over the building they turned sharply upward, theneedle-noses of the planes seeking the upper reaches of the universe, the creamy white contrails strikingly defined against the cobalt blue of the sky. The space to the right of and below the lead jet was conspicuously and quite solemnly vacant—the pilot’s salute to a fallen comrade.
    In the SUV Maggie moaned and hugged her head with frantic hands. Janice held Maggie, rocking her gently, as if she were an infant. “We’ll get through this, honey.”
    Brad sat behind the steering wheel and thunked the heavy door closed. His eyes met those of his wife in the rearview mirror, and he wondered for a long moment if what Janice had said contained any bit of truth at all.

    Maggie leaned up against the birthing stall and stared at the new foal. In his eight days of life, Dancer had shown more personality than most foals did in their first couple of months. He was a curious animal. His chestnut, almost black, eyes flicked toward every new sound or voice, and his ears were in almost constant motion, pointing at whatever caught his attention. Dancer didn’t display the natural and normal hesitancy of a very young horse. He didn’t slide behind or next to his mother when people came to their stall, keeping her body between him and those strange creatures that walked upright. Instead, he moved toward rather than away from a hand held out to him and seemed to take great delight when his muzzle was gently stroked or his poll—the spot between his ears—lightly rubbed.
    Maggie spent a few hours every day at or in the birthingstall. It was there she felt a sense of peace that she couldn’t find elsewhere. But even with her horses, she found no joy. She felt Rich’s death physically, as if she carried the invisible but ponderously weighty pelt of some huge animal on her back and shoulders. She’d lost a dozen pounds from her already lean frame, and her jeans hung from her waist like they were two sizes too large for her, even though her belt was buckled at its final increment. She lived on coffee and whatever her mother was able to get her to eat.
    Maggie didn’t realize that her father had come up behind her at the stall until she felt his hand on her shoulder and heard his voice.
    She turned to face him, a forced smile beginning to mold her face.
    “Don’t,” Brad said. “Don’t try to smile, honey. You’ve never been phony in your life, and now isn’t the time to start.”
    Maggie nodded and turned back to her horses. Dancer moved closer, muzzle raised a bit, trying the scent of Maggie’s father. When Dancer recognized it, he snuffed and moved a step closer to the man and woman, seeking Brad’s usual light touch. This time, for once, Brad ignored the foal.
    “There are some things we need to talk about, Maggie,” Brad said. “I need to get back to my stores in a few days. Your mom is going to stay on for as long as she needs to. I’ll do my best to fly out on weekends.”
    “It’s not necessary for Mom to—”
    Brad cleared his throat. “Whether it’s necessary or not, she’s staying, and I don’t want you to try to dissuade her.Her heart is breaking right along with yours, and she needs to be with you, needs to be your mother.” His voice became stronger. “Don’t shut her out, Maggie.”
    “I’m sorry,” Maggie whispered.
    “Don’t be sorry, either, baby. Believe me, I know how you feel and how you—”
    “No, you don’t, Dad. Mom never died and left you alone.”
    Brad sighed. “No. She didn’t. I’m