The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,84
at me and said, “I hauled them all the way from Connecticut. I promised my wife. We’d been invited for years but never made it. Now she’s in the— She’s in hospice.” He swallowed, scratching the black stripe that ran down the donkey’s spine. “I promised. We’re supposed to be after the camel.”
“Can I help you?” I asked him. He looked far too young for his wife to be in hospice.
He looked hopeful. “You know donkeys?”
“Not at all,” I admitted, “but I know horses.”
He shook his head. “Not the same thing at all. These guys are a piece of work, I tell ya.”
“Well, that camel is getting a huge head start.”
“Worth a try.” He handed me the lead rope for the male donkey. “If Jack goes, Jenny will usually follow him.”
I reached into my coat pocket. Sure enough—I should’ve been embarrassed but instead was grateful—I found a rubbery carrot and a piece of apple going leathery. I rubbed the mummified apple on Jack’s bristly muzzle. He stepped forward, eager to follow.
At first Jenny brayed again, which made a beagle in the crowd begin to howl, setting off a chain reaction of mournful wails. But Jack followed me, clomping right up the steps of the cathedral as if he did it every day. Once we were about to disappear into the church, Jenny shut up. Over my shoulder, I saw her marching forward, ears laid back, eyes glaring as if she couldn’t believe Jack had the audacity to leave her.
Inside, barking and howling punctuated the sermon in progress, but the sheer magnitude of the sanctuary caused a certain awe.
A ripple of panic zipped through me as I approached the priest. Everyone in the procession wore white but me. Was there something I was supposed to know? To do? I looked back at the man, but he was keeping a wary eye on Jenny—who seemed dead set on catching up to Jack, and if looks could kill, I’d be dragging a dead donkey.
The priest read words of St. Francis; they managed to penetrate my brain while I kept the donkey moving forward. “Creatures minister to our needs every day,” he said. “Without them we could not live, and through them the human race greatly offends the Creator every time we fail to appreciate so great a blessing.”
With those words, Jenny caught up to Jack and bit him on the butt. He squealed and kicked her, then bucked three times for good measure, causing people on the ends of the rows to crowd outward. I was mortified, but a collective chuckle rose up and echoed in the chamber.
Swack. I flinched as water dashed across my face. Jack snorted in surprise as it hit him, too. We were being blessed. I laughed, which may not have been appropriate, but the priest laughed, too. Before I knew it we were outside again and I wiped holy water from my face.
The man thanked me. “Why I ever agreed to bring these hooligans into a church . . .”
Why? Because he loved his wife, that’s why.
It’d all happened so fast. A boy stood on the lawn holding a goat. The goat looked up at me with yellow curry–colored eyes that seemed to laugh.
When Vijay hadn’t called me back by noon, I got online and ate the fee to change my flight. I packed my suitcase, left a note by the coffeemaker, and flew home a day early.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I’D LANDED, DRIVEN HOME, UNPACKED, AND WAS IN THE barn by the time Vijay called.
He apologized earnestly, but I was glad I’d made this choice; he clearly had not returned home until nearly 8 p.m. again.
No one was home, but I was happy to let the animals minister to me. I imagined my crew parading through the cathedral. “You would’ve been the most beautiful ones there,” I told them.
I wanted to ride. I hadn’t been on a horse since the broken ribs, and sitting in that saddle felt like coming home. This time I was well fed and clear-headed. It was near dusk, I was alone, and I’d forgotten a helmet—all reasons to walk once around the arena and get off, but it felt so healing. Moonshot’s free, swinging walk made me think of dancing.
Dancing. I wanted to dance.
I’d always wanted to dance.
ONCE NICK AND OLIVE HAD DROPPED GABRIELLA OFF AND I explained why I was home early, Gabriella said, “Men suck.”
I slid off Moonshot’s back and led him to his paddock. “Vijay doesn’t suck. He just didn’t have time