Felicity didn’t pick up his call. Or the next one he placed after he’d showered. Or the one he dialed before bed. Sunday morning found him on the bay’s back, contemplating a name for his new horse and guiding the animal toward the wishing well.
This was a good horse, who’d done everything Dwayne had asked of it the first time. “I think I’ll name you King,” he told the horse, his words almost getting swept away in the fall wind that had picked up.
At the wishing well, Dwayne just stared into its depths while King snacked on the long grasses nearby. He hadn’t brought any coins, knew wishing wouldn’t bring Felicity back.
She kept her cottage, he thought. Her horses are here.
She kept her cottage, Her horses are here.“She’s coming back,” he whispered, the words feeling right and comfortin
