I woke up with the light coming in through the attic window, filtered by the dust on the old windows. That kind of light that seems to announce something, even when no one says anything. The room was quiet, but inside me the noise was deafening.
Today was the last day.
Tomorrow morning, Marion would leave to take an injured horse to the clinic in Hudson. And on that road, on that trip, she would die. I knew this with a clarity that made me sweat cold. It wasn't intuition. It was a memory.
But now, here, this hasn't happened yet. Not yet.
I went down slowly, and the house was alive with familiar sounds - water in the kettle, the creaking of the floor under Jack's boots, and, softer, Marion's voice talking on the phone in the hallway.
I had coffee in silence with them. Amy still avoided looking me straight in the eye, but now she seemed less tense. Maybe curious. Or maybe just watching.
After Jack left, Marion called me on the balcony. She had a notepad in her hand and her forehead was frowning.
- I need you to help me with the corrals. The injured horse will have to leave very early tomorrow. I want to make sure the trailer is in order.
She said that naturally. With that tone of someone who doesn't imagine that he's one day's a day from dying.
- Do you usually drive this trailer alone? - I asked, casually.
- Almost always. Amy is going with me. I don't like to leave her behind when we have a case like this.
I nodded. I swallowed dryly.
- Can I go in her place?
She stopped, surprised. He looked at me from top to bottom.
- Do you want to come along?
- I want to. Maybe it's good to learn. I've never been with a trailer like that. I can help with the horse too.
She hesitated for a few seconds. It was noticeable that it was not in the plan. But, little by little, he nodded.
- If you wake up before six, then come.
Little did she know that I wouldn't blink that night.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Marion's every gesture seemed full of meaning. The way she talked to the horses, how she played with Amy, how she fought with Jack because of some tool out of place. All that was part of a world that - if nothing changed - would end in a few hours.
And I felt suffocated.
While packing hay in the stables, Amy appeared with a bucket of water. We stayed side by side for a few minutes in silence, until she spoke, looking forward:
- You're not like I imagined.
- How did you imagine?
- More... closed. More angry.
He laughs lightly.
- I was like that.
She finally looked at me, with her eyes tight as if trying to decipher something.
- What has changed?
I couldn't answer. How to explain to someone that you are living the second chance of someone who doesn't even know died?
So I just said:
- I think we change when you stop thinking only about us.
Amy didn't answer. But he stayed there with me. In silence. And, somehow, that said more than any long conversation.
At night, when everyone was already asleep, I went out to the courtyard. The moon illuminated the wet grass, and the barn was immersed in quiet darkness. I approached the trailer that Marion would use.
I checked the tires. The brakes. The lock of the rear gate. I ran my hand through the hitch. Everything was working - which meant that the accident would not come from a mechanical failure. It was the road. The speed. An animal crossing at the wrong time.
And the tragedy that no one expected.
- What are you doing there?
The voice made me turn fast.
It was Jack.
He had his hands in his pocket and his gaze was firm, but not angry. Just attentive.
- Just... checking. Marion said she will take the horse tomorrow morning. I wanted to make sure everything is fine.
He narrowed his eyes.
- Marion knows how to drive this trailer with her eyes closed. You should be sleeping.
- I know. It's just that... I worry.
He approached. The silence between us seemed heavier than any speech.
- You've seen too many things in your life, haven't you?
I nodded, not knowing exactly what he meant.
- I don't know where you really came from, boy. And I also don't know what you carry - he said, without staring at me - but there's something in your eyes that reminds me of people who have already lost too much.
- Maybe because I lost.
Jack didn't answer. He only nodded once and came back home. And I stood there, staring at the trailer as if it were a sleeping monster.
I lay down without sleep. The clock marked 1:47 in the morning. And even so I didn't close my eyes.
Because in less than five hours, Marion would leave on that road.
And everything inside me screamed for me to stop.
But how? Invent an excuse? Knock down the trailer? Say you had a feeling?
Everything seemed too fragile to me.
"Voice of Destiny active" - I thought. Not as a notification. But like an instinct.
And he said: if you change too much, you break what should be.
But it also said: if you don't change anything, what are you doing here?
I looked out the window. Outside, the hills slept. Amy too. And Marion, in the next room, maybe dreamed of horses. With sunny days. With mornings that would never happen.
I finally closed my eyes.
Not with peace. But with an unfinished decision.
Maybe tomorrow I would do the right thing.
Or the wrong one.
Or something in the middle, where those who try live.