James nods acknowledgement. “Yes, it needs care. But I'll go with her every time. And Eleanor sent a side-saddle for Charlotte to use for a while, until she's back in shape again.”

Charlotte turns a puzzled frown on him. “You’ll come with me? But…”

“Go inside.” Michael nods her indoors. “You’ve not seen it all yet.”

Charlotte unbolts the lower half of the door, clicking her tongue. “Back-up, Charlie.” The bay-roan mare reverses, letting everyone through, but shoves her nose firmly against Charlotte’s chest.

And there, at the back of the stable, up to his knees in clean straw, is another horse, a white gelding; much bigger than Charlie, heavily-built, but with a mild eye and manner. He snickers as we enter, his ears pricking forward.

Charlotte blinks.

James produces a carrot, then another, passing one to Charlotte. His own he offers to the gelding. “Meet Oliver. He’s Charlie’s son. He’s here to keep Charlie company and for me to ride with you.” Charlotte’s jaw drops.

There is something about seeing joy in another person. It’s infectious. It rubs off. Next to me, Ryan is smiling broadly.

Richard is positively beaming. “By the way, Charlotte, your Christmas gift from me and Elizabeth is the saddle and tack…”

She throws herself at him, streaming tears. Richard wraps arms around her, patting her back. He kisses her cheek. “Happy Christmas, Charlotte. You deserve it.”

Ryan, standing close behind me, winds an arm around my waist, pulling me in close, then slips his gloved hand into mine. His cheek resting by mine, he murmurs, “So Charlotte has her white horse then?”

For a moment I don’t understand him, then I remember…

That conversation we had, the very first night we met.

“So, no dreams of white horses then?”

“White horses?”

shining armour, come to carry you off

I laugh. “Not me.”

embrace, resting my head against his. “My knight on his white charger, come to carry me away. Yes, he was there

Charlotte, laughing and crying and smiling and tearful and joyful… surrounded by

clarity, I

I hook arms up around his neck,

stiff fingers, I grope into my pocket, seeking what I know

my palm: a small plastic

offered it to me, with everything else

to be breathing. His

ring onto my left hand, fourth finger. “Yes, I will marry

up, his smile spreading wide and white. “You

“I will.”

voice. I turn to see him punching the

Charlie’s nickered protest. She runs to

outstretched, competing

he says in a

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m pleased for me,

have to tell Beth and Mom.” She scuttles back to her horse, hugging her

*****

as everyone else, giving me a squeeze and a

he tries to stop her. “I can

“Coming right up.”

almost immersed

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