Josh Martz squinted up at the thick, dark clouds. Wind shoved him along the path leading to the Taylor’s neighboring farm.

Earlier that morning when he had asked his dad if he could help out with the haying, his dad answered simply, “It’s man’s work, son.”

He kicked a rock. “I’m almost twelve!” he muttered. “He treats me like a little kid! …Ever since Mom died…”

The trail took him right to the Taylor’s gravel driveway. He huffed his way up the hill while angry rain pelted down from the black sky.

He sprinted for the front porch but then noticed off to his right the barn’s door hung open. He remembered the Taylors had been waiting for a new foal to be born. Excited, he ran to the barn.

Inside, he saw his sister, her friend Sarah, and Mr. Taylor all huddled together with their backs to the door. The wind howled outside. They hadn’t heard him come in.

“Is she going to be alright, Dad?” Sarah asked her father.

“I’m not sure, Honey,” Mr. Taylor said.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Josh asked.

“Josh!” Mr. Taylor turned and greeted him. “Millie’s about to deliver her foal.”

“Well, why’s everybody so worried looking?” Josh asked.

Mr. Taylor pinched his brow. “This storm’s knocked out the phone. Margaret’s in town with the truck. We can’t get in touch with the vet, and…” he paused and grimaced, “it looks like the foal may be breech.”

Josh stepped closer for a look. The old mare lay on her side, panting in short, quick breaths.

“Well, what are we going to do, then?” he asked.

Mr. Taylor placed his hand on Josh’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “For now, just stay handy. I may need your help if my first idea doesn’t work.”

***

It seemed like hours passed. Josh watched as Mr. Taylor carefully reached his hands into the mare, trying desperately to turn the foal.

Finally, Mr. Taylor shook his head and said, “It’s no use! If this foal’s coming out, it’s coming out feet first. Josh, come here!”

Josh quickly knelt down next to Mr. Taylor. His hands shook. He feared the foal might die but was determined to do whatever Mr. Taylor asked.

“All right, now,” Mr. Taylor began. “Here’s the way it is. I don’t think you’d be able to keep Millie from kicking – and she will kick – so I’m going to have to be the one to hold her down.” He looked Josh square in the eye and said, “You’re going to pull out the foal.”

Josh winced. He looked up at Mr. Taylor. “But -" he began.

Mr. Taylor took him by the shoulders. “You can do this Josh. I know you can.”

Josh swallowed hard, leaned over the old mare, took a deep breath, then started his hands into her as he had seen Mr. Taylor do. He tried to feel for the foal but couldn’t tell what was what.

Then, something hard pressed into his hand. “I feel something! I think it’s a foot!” He looked over at Mr. Taylor for reassurance.

“That’s good,” Mr. Taylor nodded. His eyes grew moist as he returned Josh’s gaze. “Now see if you can find the other one.”

Josh nervously felt further inside. Then, something jerked against his knuckles. He rotated his hand, grasping firmly onto the small shape of the other hoof.

“I’ve got it!” he cried. “It’s trying to kick!” Tears welled up in his eyes.

“Good. Good!” Mr. Taylor smiled. “That’s good, Josh. Now pull. Keep pulling. That’s good. You’re doing it, Josh!”

Josh kept pulling on the two thin legs until, finally, the hind end of the foal slid out. He looked up and got a quick nod from Mr. Taylor.

“Keep pulling, Josh. You’re doing it,” Mr. Taylor encouraged, smiling. “You’re birthing a foal!”

Josh tugged once more and, suddenly – swoosh! There lay a brand new baby foal on the barn floor, already wriggling around, trying to right itself.

“Josh, you did it!” cried Sarah.

“Josh, you were great!” exclaimed Jenny.

All three laughed, excitedly. Mr. Taylor remained quiet. He examined the foal, then smiled.

“We’ve got ourselves a fine little filly here, kids.”

The girls went back to their giggling, but Josh watched Mr. Taylor stroke Millie’s neck, speaking softly to her.

“Mr. Taylor, what’s wrong?” Josh asked.

The girls stopped giggling. Ed Taylor motioned Josh to come near and whispered to him in low, urgent tones. Josh’s face pinched. He stood up, instructing the girls to follow him outside. He closed the barn door firmly behind them and silently led them back to the house, ushering them up the porch steps as quickly as he could. But Jenny and Sarah wanted to know what was wrong and lagged their steps.

“Come on, now. Let’s get in the house and wash up!” Josh commanded. Sarah stubbornly turned back to look toward the barn. They all followed her gaze. Her father strode grimly toward them. He stopped at the foot of the porch steps and waited for a moment, blinking away the rivulets of water that flowed down his face.

Before they could ask, Mr. Taylor spoke up in a rough voice.

“Millie had lost too much blood. We couldn’t have done anything for her.”

“Daddy!” Sarah cried, running into her father’s arms. He stroked her hair and held her.

“I know this is hard to understand,” he began. “Millie was our friend. We all loved her. But the thing is, you see, nobody, no matter how much you love them, can live forever. I wish we could have saved Millie. But she gave her all to give us that foal. And now,” Mr. Taylor took a deep breath and tried to smile, “now we’ve got ourselves a brand new little filly to take care of. That filly needs you kids to take care of her. She needs milk and she needs love.”

Josh met Mr. Taylor’s gaze. For the first time, he understood that life and death were connected. They had lost Millie but now there was a new life just starting out, a life that he had helped bring into the world.

Mr. Taylor gave Josh a broad smile. “We couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

Josh felt sad and happy at the same time. The pain that had stabbed him moments ago gave way to a feeling of pride.

Josh, Jenny and Sarah waited inside the house while Mr. Taylor gave the foal her first feeding. He explained to them that he would show them how, later, and that they could all share that responsibility.

When Mrs. Taylor drove up, Jenny and Sarah ran out to greet her. Before she had time to get out of the truck, the girls told her the whole story. She hugged Sarah and said how sorry she was over Millie and, for a moment, everyone kept quiet.

They walked back to the house and all sat around the kitchen table, discussing what name would be best for the filly. Josh sat apart in the rocking chair, letting his thoughts wander. He thought of his mother. It had been such a long time since he’d thought of how she used to laugh and how soft her voice would get when she read them stories at night. Then he remembered how she had always sung them a certain lullaby. He tried hard to remember the melody. Slowly, it came back to him. Without thinking, he began quietly singing the words.

Everyone stopped talking. Mr. Taylor returned from the barn. They all stared at Josh. Jenny looked puzzled. Then a flash of recognition swept across her face and brought a wistful smile.

“That was Mommy’s song,” she whispered. “Mommy would sing that every night. She’d rock me on her lap.” Then she added, dreamily, “I’d forgotten about that…”

Jenny went over to Josh and sat on his lap as she used to with her mother. Josh rocked her back and forth and sang the song again and again. When he finally stopped, he said, “We must never forget this song, Jen. It was like a part of Mom. I don’t know. Part of her is in the song. Do you know what I mean?”

Jenny didn’t answer, but hugged her brother with all her might.

***

The phones were back by late afternoon but more dark clouds appeared on the horizon, so Mrs. Taylor drove the children home. She let them out at the end of their driveway, then smiled and waved at Mr. Martz before driving away.

Josh and Jenny ran to the front porch where their father waited.

“I just got a call from Ed Taylor," his father beamed. "I guess you’ve got quite a story to tell me.” Mr. Martz ruffed Josh's hair, then added, “young man.”

They walked into the house together. Josh quietly hummed his mother’s lullaby and grinned a broad grin as they let the screen door slam behind them.

THE END