They're talking and giggling and look so happy that I almost don't want to interrupt them. But I'm exhausted, we still have dinner to eat, the girls have homework, and we have to spread Aunt Kim's ashes. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it. Saying I'm looking forward to it sounds wrong, but saying I don't want to do it sounds wrong as well.
Finally, we get everything done. And by everything, I mean just the necessities. Only half the horses got groomed, the barn is still in major need of dusting, but the stalls are clean and the aisle is swept. Heather and Maria join us for dinner, and then we all go out near the pasture to spread Aunt Kim's ashes. we stop near a tree right outside of the fenced in area. Aunt Kim very specifically pointed out in her will that she didn't want bits of human remains in the actual pasture.
“Should we say something?” I ask slowly twisting the lid off of the urn. There's a slight breeze and I hold my hand up trying to feel the direction of the wind.
Nodding, Dad steps forward and extends his hand toward me. I give him the urn and he takes the lid off the rest of the way.
“Kimberly, he starts. “You are everything I could have asked for in an older sister. Annoying, protective, and a great role model. Mom, Dad, and Taylor have been waiting for you to join them for some time now. Rest easy, sis.”
He slowly tips the urn, letting the ashes spread out in the wind.
“Goodbye, Great Aunt Kim, Everly says softly. “I'll make sure the horses are okay.”
I'm already an emotional mess, but the simplicity of my daughter's words hit me. I look up, trying to blink back tears and take a shaky breath.
We will take care of them, I promise Aunt Kim. Don't worry. I'll make sure you are right to say the horses are in good hands.
Chapter Twenty-Three
JACOB
“Is the scheduling system glitching again?” I ask Darla, walking up to the reception area with an iPad in my hand. “There's nothing scheduled for me this weekend.”
Darla spins around in her chair, glasses down on the bridge of her nose. “Don't tell me you forgot.”
“Forgot what?” I ask with a slight wince.
“You're giving a presentation at the Michigan Horse Fair this weekend.”
Oh, shit. I knew I had a charity gala coming up but completely forgot about this weekend’s horse fair presentation. “That's this weekend?”
“Yep. You did already write up your presentation, didn't you?”
“I did.” I let out an exasperated sigh. It's Thursday evening and we're about ready to close the clinic for the night. I've worked endlessly all day to catch up on my small animal appointments that I rescheduled over the last week. My two new hires are starting next week, so it should be smoother sailing from here on out. Though, I'm preparing for a busy transition period.
One of the new vets I hired is fresh out of school but had impressive drive and enthusiasm. He reminds me a bit of myself, to be honest. And the other vet is older than me, has nearly double the experience, and was looking for something a bit slower-paced than where she worked in Chicago. Once they are acclimated and my team is comfortable, I plan on hiring a couple of new techs, and we won't have to be so understaffed and overworked anymore.
“Is there anything you need help with?” Darla asks.
“No, but thank you.” This is the second year I'm sitting in on a panel at the horse fair, as well as giving my own presentation about treating colic. I've never been a fan of public speaking; however, I find that if its anything to do with veterinary medicine, I get in the zone and actually enjoy myself. I don't get to talk to many other vets all that often, which is why I look forward to that stupid charity gala. I had completely forgotten that the horse fair changed from August to May and now I have back-to-back weekend events.
I know I'll have two new vets working by next weekend, but the thought of having two weekends in a row booked like this makes my anxiety shoot up. What if something happens and I can't be there? Neither the horse fair nor the gala is too far away, but in the case of a dire emergency, there's no way I could get back to Silver Ridge in time.
I do my rounds on the sick animals at the clinic, check on my surgery patients, and then go into my office to update my notes and documentation. Like usual, I’m the last one here, and I end the night checking on the horses in the barn. Pongo is still hanging in there, and Josie and her daughter Everly came to visit today after school. I was in the building busy with appointments and missed them both. Part of me is happy I didn't have to deal with Josie's annoying optimism, but part of me wanted to see her again, and I can't put my finger on why.