Hearts of Stone, Hearts of Gold

Chapter One - Hectic Lives

(Rachel’s POV)

I looked at the alarm clock on my bedside locker. It was just after twelve thirty am, the earliest I had finished work all week and boy was I wrecked. I slipped out of my worn out jeans and pulled on my baby blue pajama bottoms. The grass stained hoodie I was wearing was quick to follow as I grabbed the matching pajama top from the chest of drawers. I slipped into bed and pulled the covers up over my shoulders, quite content to finally be getting a proper night’s sleep. Within seconds I had drifted off.

A shrill and continuous ringing abruptly woke me from my deep sleep. I groaned as I patted the pillow beside me, searching for the source of the irritating sound. Realizing that it was coming from the locker, I slowly moved my aching body towards the penetrating noise. I hissed in pain as I put weight on my newly bruised hip. My fumbling fingers eventually found the phone.

“Jason,” I snapped into the phone. “There better be a very good reason why you are ringing me at…” I glanced at the clock to check the time, my eyes squinting to adjust to the glaring red light on the screen. “At two thirty seven in the morning!” I practically screeched at him.

“There is, trust me. The SPCA phoned me. They couldn’t get through to your mobile, you must have it on silent or something and they don’t have your house number,” he explained. “They’re after finding five abandoned horses in a field not far from their headquarters. They need both of us there to help. We need to bring trailers to take horses back with us because they don’t have the facilities to take any more horses in at the minute.”

“When do they want us?” I asked, knowing very well what the answer would be.

“Now.” He paused for a second. “I’m outside your front door”

“I’ll be down in a minute. Get rugs, lead ropes, head collars and some bandages into my jeep. Call some of the others while you’re at it. We’re going to need more than one trailer with us and we’ll need stables prepared for when we bring the horses in,” I instructed him as I climbed out of bed.

“No problem.”

I threw on a pair of jodhpurs along with a long sleeve t-shirt and a hoodie. I hopped down the hallway while pulling on a pair of thick winter socks. It was going to be freezing outside and I knew I needed to wrap up well. I flicked the lights on in the kitchen and grabbed six travel mugs. I strummed my fingers on the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to heat up.

It had been four years since my parents had died in a house fire. Four years since I had seen my little brother, Shane. How things have changed. I remembered Shane running from the church, it tore my heart out to see him so upset. I knew he was angry with me and needed his space.

I blinked back the tears at my last memory of my little brother. As much as it hurt me, I knew I couldn’t have followed him that day. He needed to move on. He needed a better life, a happier life. I’d always wondered how he was getting on. Was his life as eventful as mine? Was it easier? I’d have given anything to see my brother, to know that he was ok, that he was happy.

I’d worked so hard over the past four years but one of the things I desperately wanted, was to know that Shane was ok. I’m sure people wonder why the hell I didn’t contact him in those four years. The truth is, I tried. But it turned out that he asked social services not to give me any information about him. Apparently, he wanted nothing to do with me.

Sometimes, I’d think back to those few weeks after the funeral and wonder how I had coped. I genuinely don’t know how I done it. In a way I practically walked into a job and into a new life. I never really had the chance to think about all that I had lost. I never even had the chance to grieve.