# Part 2: The Song Talisman Remembered
Talisman took another step.
Then another.
His enormous hooves pressed into the arena dirt, but his attention stayed on Harlan.
The blacksmith struggled through the next line of the lullaby.
His voice broke.
Talisman stopped directly in front of him and lowered his head until his forehead rested against Harlan’s chest.
The grandstand remained silent.
Harlan placed one shaking hand beneath the horse’s mane.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then he whispered something I could hear only because I stood near the arena entrance.
“I don’t know how to do this without her.”
## The Empty Space
I had watched frightened horses become calm before.
Usually, the change came gradually: a familiar voice, patient handling, the quiet repetition of something safe.
But this was different.
Talisman stood beneath the fairground lights with teal ribbons woven through his mane, listening to a song he had learned from a girl who would never sing it again.
I couldn’t know what the horse remembered.
I could see what Harlan did.
Every word seemed to pull him toward another afternoon in the barn, another moment when Maeva had been close enough to touch.
He tried to finish the verse.
Instead, he bent his head against Talisman’s neck.
One of the judges stepped forward.
“Take your time,” she said.
Harlan nodded without looking up.
## Nobody Asked Him to Jog
The class had stopped being an ordinary exhibition.
The other handlers waited quietly with their horses. One woman moved her gelding farther away to give Harlan room.
The announcer lowered the microphone.
Nobody asked him to hurry.
Eventually, Harlan reached for the lead rope and clipped it back onto the halter.
“I’m sorry,” he told the judge.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“I thought I could finish.”
“You’ve brought him here.”
He looked at the ribbons.
“That was her part.”
The judge glanced toward the grandstand, where people wore pieces of the same teal ribbon.
“Then she had some help.”
Harlan let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
## Back Toward the Barn
I met him outside the arena.
Talisman walked close beside him, his head lower now.
“Would you like somewhere quiet?” I asked.
Harlan nodded.
We returned to the livestock barn while the next horses entered the ring.
The group that had helped with the ribbons didn’t crowd us. A few people offered water or asked whether we needed anything.
Then they let us pass.
Inside the stall, Harlan loosened the halter and checked that none of the ribbons had tangled.
His fingers were steadier.
For several minutes, he gave himself ordinary work.
Straighten the lead.
Check the water.
Brush dust from the horse’s shoulder.
Sometimes grief leaves a person needing one small task at a time.
## The Envelope in His Coat
When Harlan bent to retrieve Maeva’s drawing, another paper slipped from his coat.
He caught it before it reached the floor.
Not quickly enough for me to miss the overdue notice printed across the top.
He folded it and pushed it away.
“You don’t have to explain,” I said.
He leaned against the stall partition.
“I haven’t taken a proper job since the funeral.”
I waited.
“Neighbors helped with hay. My brother covered the trailer repair.”
He looked toward Talisman.
“But he eats every day whether I can get out of bed or not.”
There it was.
The choice he hadn’t mentioned.
“What are you considering?”
“A man offered to buy him.”
## A Good Offer
The buyer wasn’t somebody Harlan distrusted.
He owned a working farm and had experience with draft horses. He had offered references and invited Harlan to visit.
“The money would clear the feed bill,” Harlan said. “Some other things, too.”
“And do you want to sell?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Then he looked embarrassed by it.
“But wanting isn’t feeding him.”
Talisman moved toward the hay.
Harlan watched him chew.
“I keep thinking Maeva saved his life. Maybe I’m being selfish keeping him because I can’t stand another empty stall.”
I didn’t tell him the decision was simple.
It wasn’t.
“Have you spoken to anyone about temporary help?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“I’ve already asked too much.”
“Let people answer that for themselves.”
## The Woman at the Entrance
A woman stood a few feet down the aisle.
Beside her was a girl wearing a cardigan over a faded camp shirt.
The girl held a teal ribbon.
“Mr. Harlan?”
He turned.
For a moment, he only stared.
Then recognition crossed his face.
“Lucy?”
She nodded.
The woman placed a hand on her shoulder.
“We weren’t sure you’d come today.”
Harlan straightened.
Lucy had known Maeva through a hospital program. They had spent afternoons together while their parents waited for appointments.
“She talked about this fair all the time,” Lucy said.
Her eyes moved to Talisman.
“He’s even bigger than she said.”
Harlan managed a small smile.
“She said he could hear a carrot being peeled from three fields away.”
Lucy laughed.
Then her expression became serious.
“I brought something.”
## The Recording
Her mother took out a phone.
“Maeva made a little video with Lucy,” she explained. “Before her last hospital stay.”
Harlan’s hand tightened around the folded drawing.
“We meant to contact you earlier,” the woman continued. “But Lucy found it again this week and asked whether we could bring it.”
“What’s on it?”
“A message.”
He looked toward Talisman, then at the phone.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You don’t have to watch now.”
Lucy held out a small envelope.
“She made me promise to give you this with it.”
On the front, in uneven handwriting, were four words:
**For Dad. Fair day.**
## What Maeva Had Planned
Harlan sat on the bench outside the stall.
Talisman stood behind him, occasionally rustling the hay.
Lucy and her mother waited nearby.
I stayed only after Harlan asked me to.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was another drawing.
The same black horse.
The same teal ribbons.
But this time, Maeva had drawn her father beside him.
Beneath the picture, she had written:
**You have to be in it, too.**
Harlan covered his mouth.
For a while, he couldn’t speak.
Then he reached for the phone.
“Show me.”
## Her Voice
Lucy’s mother started the video.
Maeva appeared sitting on a hospital bed, her hair untidy and a blanket across her knees.
She looked directly into the camera.
“Hi, Dad.”
Harlan stopped breathing for a second.
On the screen, Maeva smiled.
“If Lucy actually remembers to give you this, it means you took Talisman to the fair.”
Off-camera, Lucy protested.
“I’ll remember!”
Maeva laughed.
Harlan’s eyes filled.
Then his daughter became serious.
“I know you think you have to fix everything.”
She glanced down at something in her lap.
“But I made a plan for the things you can’t fix.”
Harlan leaned closer.
Maeva lifted a folded piece of paper toward the camera.
“And there’s something about Talisman I haven’t told you yet.”
**To be continued in Part 3.**
