I found Applejack where I thought she would be: sitting in the shadow of that beautiful oak tree out on the farm. The one that reminded me so much of my home, hunched over at the top of a hill, giving shade to all who wanted it in the oppressive heat of the midsummer day.
Maybe she was just hot.
“But it was cooler in the hospital,” I said to myself as I turned to glance back the way I came, at the tall pole with the Ponyville flag barely fluttering in a weak breeze. “She must have a reason to be here.”
Right? She wouldn’t hide, or run away. Not Applejack.
I shook my head, and settled into a hover high above until I could see my shadow flickering on the side of the hill, just below the crest. I hoped she couldn’t see me. Maybe… maybe I didn’t need to be here.
“Yes, Fluttershy, you do,” I said, looking down at her sitting in the shifting shade. “Isn’t that why you came looking?” Of course it was. She must have been hurting. How could she not have been?
I couldn’t see her very well from so high up, so I couldn’t tell if she had been crying. She was just… looking. Out over the apple grove. Sitting still.
“Just take a deep breath,” I said, “and go talk to her. Listen to her.” That’s not hard. Just… listen. “I can do that.”
I still hadn’t taken that breath. “What are you waiting for?” Nothing. I took a deep breath, held it, and let myself drift lower and lower as the breath escaped again.
She looked down at my shadow on the ground, then up at me after a moment. “Oh. Hey, Fluttershy.” Her throaty chuckle sounded strained. Or did it? “Thought you might be R.D. for a sec.”
Was it me, or did her voice crack? I couldn’t see her ears. But her eyes were steady in the shade of her hat. Really, the flicker was the shadow from the trees.
I really should have left, when I had the chance. She really was okay. She didn’t need me there.
Why, then, did I go to her? Because I thought she needed somepony to talk to.
“Didn’t expect to see you around till later. Maybelle’s calf ain’t due until tomorrow.”
“I know. I… um.” Say it! “I came by to, um, see how you were doing.” The start of a frown creased the corners of her mouth. “Because I know how hard it can be to wait for a birth to happen!”
The frown faded, her eyes flicking back and forth between mine. I swallowed and offered her a tremulous smile.
Finally, she shook her head, smile coming back. “Hah. That’s the truth. Don’t you worry. She’s holdin’ up well.”
“And how are you holding up?” The words shot out before I could think about them, and her frown came back. Too blunt! “Because… it’s hard to wait for a birth.” I smiled, too wide. It faltered as her eyes locked with mine. You’re making a mess, Fluttershy. I was. I should go before I make things worse.
She was silent a moment, looking up at me, then shook her head, and dragged off her hat. “Fluttershy… I know why you’re here. I’m doin’ fine. Granny’s doin’ fine, and she’ll be back in no time.” She paused for a beat, her eyes leaving mine to flick back at the town. “You’ll see.”
Her ears ticked up, then down, and settled backwards even as her eyes, earnest, locked on mine. I settled down lower, keeping my wing-sweeps slow and steady—calm. She does need somepony. “You’re worried.”
She shot a glare up at me. “I ain’t fibbin’. She’s been back from worse’n this.” Her head jerked in a nod. “You’ll see, she’ll be fine.”
I didn’t have to say ‘When she was younger.’ I could tell she was thinking it. I wanted to hear her say it, and admit she was worried. No! She doesn’t have to admit anything. I kept silent, feeling my back tense, waiting for her to say something else.
Or was she waiting for me? It was so hard to tell. I knew she wasn’t lying, or maybe she was just trying to stay away from the fear. What could Applejack do? She was a doer. She did things. I let it go and turned to look back towards the town.
What could she do to help Granny Smith? Worry and fret? I let out a sigh and shook my head. She could. Maybe she had, already? Had Apple Bloom called her on it again? Had Granny?
The silence stretched out longer, more oppressive than the heat. I wanted to say something, but everything got all jumbled up in my head when I tried to think of what to say.
She broke it first. “I know what you’re thinkin’,” Applejack said, her eyes tracking back towards town, then snapping back to me. “I… Big Mac is there. And no, I don’t gotta be there.” Her lip quivered, for just a moment, but I saw it. She knew I had, and her jaw set stubbornly. “She’s not going nowhere.”
I saw it again, more plainly. It was like she was speaking to me like my animals did: I can’t see her like this, Fluttershy. I just can’t. I’ll make a mess of things, and then what?
I said nothing. Could I let her know that I’d seen her weakness? Should I? Did she want me to let her know?
She stared defiance up at me for a moment longer, then looked away. “Her ticker just needs a rest is all.” More quietly, almost to herself, she said: “You’ll see.”
“Of course.” I drifted lower, finally settling down, and put a hoof to her shoulder. “I see.” I did. I saw she was hurting. “She’ll be okay. Like you said.” I didn’t know if that was a lie. But it was the best kindness I could offer her. The truth… was often a harsh thing, and being honest would have hurt her. Right?
I sat next to her, looking out over the apple orchard, and tried to see it like she might have.
Its rolling hills rose and fell like a great ocean of green, brown, and red frozen in a moment of perfect clarity. The afternoon sun had burnt off the morning haze, and shone brightly off the pinpricks of brilliant red nestled in the highest boughs of the trees. Below them, yesterday’s rainstorm had left clear, shimmering water here and there in puddles and pools which would sparkle and flash silver, green, and red as a light breeze set them to rippling.
It was peaceful—beautiful, even. I could tell why she’d come here, of all the places on the farm. For a time, only the wind saw fit to disturb us under that tree. But she didn’t need to be alone. Well, Fluttershy, she isn’t now, is she? I stayed silent.
After a time, birds started chirping in the tree above us, and I heard their little voices calling inquiry.
Why are you here?
What is the apple pony doing?
I shook my head to their questions, not wanting to disturb Applejack by speaking. After a few more questions had gone unanswered, they chirped farewell and darted off to find food, leaving Applejack and I alone again.
“You don’t need to be here,” Applejack said. Her eyes followed the birds, then came back to me. “I know they were talkin’ to you.”
“They were. But I’m not here because they needed me.” I wanted to say more, and I felt the words on my tongue, asking to be spoken. I’m worried about you. I closed my mouth, instead.
Her eyes met mine, and I could see that she knew what I wanted to say. She smiled, nodding. “Thanks.”
Whether it was thanks for not saying what I would have, what I probably should have said to any other pony, or thanks for being there didn’t matter, I supposed. I nodded. “You’re welcome.”
The silence, then, wasn’t oppressive. It was still hot, and I could smell her sweat from a recent run, overpowering the smell of a hospital: cold antiseptic and steel-edged cleansing agents. I thought I knew why she had run: from fears she couldn’t fight with tooth and hoof, or face down with a glare and a snort. Fears she couldn’t laugh off and make disappear.
Sometimes, the best thing I could do was be me. Be quiet, and just be there for her. I felt like that was what she wanted.
Or, maybe she just needed time to think without somepony poking and prodding her into facing those fears.
“What do you see, Fluttershy? When you look out at… this.” She waved a hoof at the rolling hills dotted with trees, and the shiny red speckles of apples high up in their boughs.
“Well…” I thought I had looked at it like she had. The apple trees, of course, and the… “Um. Trees. Apple trees.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh…” What else? I leaned forward, shading my eyes with a foreleg. “Um, I see flowers, too. Birds. Lots of birds. Maybe a bunny warren?” Would she see those things? Did she? I kept staring, trying to see what it was she wanted me to see.
“That’s fair. That’s all there.” She nodded and patted my side with her hat, then fanned her face with it.
It didn’t seem to be all she wanted me to see, though. I didn’t want to give up trying to look at it through her eyes. What would she want me to see? What—
It hit me. Granny Smith. I looked out over the farm again, looking not just for the life that I was so familiar with, but also the signs of the lives that had been lived there, the places where life happened. I found them, when I was looking for them.
A broken wagon wheel lay against one tree, its bottom binding ring rusted clean through, grass sprouting up through the spokes, shattered and hanging loose like the wheel of some great, broken ship, floundering in a sea of green. A wagon wheel from a long ago apple harvest. I could almost see a pony cursing their luck.
Underneath another, I saw a blanket, probably left there over the weekend by Apple Bloom and her friends. On it, despite the damp and the dirt, I could see the three friends laughing and planning their latest escapade. Or just laughing and playing together.
I thought I saw it. There was more than just the life here. There were lives wrapped around and draped over those hills, resting against the trunks of the trees and underneath their protective canopies.
There was the essence of Applejack. I looked back at her, and then I did see it. Yes. That was her reason. Family was all around, and memories of family.
She looked at me, her eyes jade in the shade of the spreading oak tree above us. Why did she have such colorful eyes? I had seen them grass green, too, and the shade of Granny Smith Apples. I had seen them filled with tears, dry as a bone, red with exhaustion… I saw them, then, filled with memory. Almost, I could see them playing out in her eyes.
“You see it, too,” she said.
I nodded, looking away, tears in my eyes. I knew why she came out there. It wasn’t to run away from family. It was to be closer. I knew, then, how much she was hurting. And yet…
She chuckled.
It was so out of place in that moment that I sat, stunned. She could still laugh. My eyes were burning, still. But she could laugh. Strength, or something else? Desperation, maybe?
I studied her while she studied me right back. I didn’t see desperation in her eyes. Sadness, yes, deep and powerful, but not overwhelming. Why? How?
“There’s family out there. Memories of family. Happy ones, sad ones, all of it.” She stood, stretched her hind legs, and nodded back at the trunk. “There’s family here, too.”
I didn’t want to look. I knew what it must have been, where we must have been sitting as soon as she said it. But I did look.
Here lie Applecart and Orange Delight, loving parents.
The burning in my eyes became a fire, and the ache in my throat a choking strangle.
But she smiled at me, pushed me gently away with a hoof to the shoulder. “Come on, Fluttershy.” There was a sigh in her voice, and I knew I had become a burden. Again.
“S-sorry.” I stumbled away and sat down, watching her.
“Don’t you be sorry. I… probably shouldn’t have left like I did. Just... I saw I was bein’ too fussy.” She shook her head. “I bet y’all took straws to figure out who was gonna come and sort me out.” She gave me a thin smile, chuckled, and shook her head. “I had to come here, and… tell them,” she said, nodding back towards the tree, “that Granny was doin’ alright.” She gave me another soft-edged look, and shrugged. “Maybe more for me than for them, truth be told. Ya ain’t wrong there.” She stretched again. “Come on. I need to go for a walk.”
I followed her down the hill, my hooves somehow finding their way down a winding path smoothed flat by years of hooves plodding to and from that great tree, up on the hill, where Applejack’s parents could look out over all the farm.
I looked back up at it as we reached the bottom of the hill, and stop. I had to. I couldn’t see where I was going anymore. How could she visit so often? It hurt so much thinking about her loss.
She stopped, too. “That tree back there,” she said, standing close enough that I could feel the heat of her shoulder against mine, “was the first tree I ever planted.” She fell silent, then nudged me along the path into the deeper orchard.
I could tell she didn’t want to see me crying, and that she knew the source of my tears. But she didn’t call me out on it. Dutifully, I wiped them away, snuffled back my grief, and forced myself to look ahead. I could still feel it there, and the spectre of her parents watching me, warning me not to let their daughter get hurt.
We passed tree after tree, under shade, into sun, and back again, as we walked quietly along a less well defined path through dells too shadowy to hold much in the way of life, and over hummocks tufted with thick, wiry grasses. The wind was more fitful down there, slower to rise, less eager to bring anything cool to us.
“I ever tell you that story?” After a pause, she chuckles. “About the tree, I mean.”
I had force myself not to look over my back at the tree, and I felt my ears flattening from the effort. “No.” It sounded strangled. I coughed. “I’m sorry, Applejack. I haven’t heard it.”
“I coulda sworn…” She glanced at me, must have seen my ears. “It’s not that kinda story. It’s a happy one, honest.” I heard her smile before I looked up to see it: genuine, bright.
“Oh. I—” I knew she wanted to tell me. What if it hurt her more? What if, by telling me, she got hurt more? But she wanted to. I knew her. She wanted to tell me, no matter what it did or how much it hurt later. I would just have to be there. “I’d like to hear it.”
“It might get kinda long. You got some time?”
She was giving me an out. She was asking if I wanted to stay with her, maybe see her break down. I looked at her again. Her face was unreadable, her ears loose and bobbing with every stride, and the flickering shade of the canopy made reading her eyes almost impossible. It didn’t matter. She needed somepony to talk to.
“Sure. I’ve got time.”