Centaur Rising (10 page)

And then I thought,
Maybe Kai isn't magic after all, but some kind of miracle. Like the ones in the Bible. And the ones in the myths.

 

12

Suggestions

A
S THE SUGGESTIONS WERE READ OUT
, I tried to hide my yawns. It wasn't just that I hadn't been sleeping well since Kai's birth. It was also that the suggestions were so predictable. In fact, they were the same ones we'd come up with ourselves.

The list went like this:

•
No gossiping about Kai.

•
No talking to newspaper, radio, or TV reporters.

•
No photographs of Kai or of Agora with him.

•
No tattling in school or camp, not even to your best friend.
(That was Joey's idea.)

•
No writing in your diary about him.
(Angela's idea.)

•
No telling anyone who isn't here at the meeting, period!

“Not even your husband?” Mrs. Angotti asked. “I gotta tell my
husband
. I mean he's my husband, after all, and we share everything, even stuff maybe we shouldn't share, but we do and—”

“I'm not telling mine,” Mom said.

“That's different,” Angela said disgustedly, “you're divorced. We don't believe in divorce.”

Martha stood angrily and said, “This isn't about divorce. And it's sure not about writing in diaries. And don't anyone sing ‘Kumbaya' now, or hold hands in a circle, or give me the kiss of peace.” Then she walked out of the room.

Some folks looked puzzled, but I knew she was just trying to remind people to do what they'd promised.

Which wasn't much.

Mom shook everyone's hand and gave Professor Harries a hug because we knew her from our Quaker meeting. And then everyone left without taking a single horse away. In fact they scattered so quickly, it was as if no one was up for a ride or a lesson or even a visit with their horses. Which meant Martha and I would have a lot of extra work that afternoon. And Mom, too.

Again.

Joey and Angela and their mother were unusually quiet as they walked toward their car, though Angela flicked a finger at the back of Joey's head when he started to speak. He pushed her in return. But for them, that was a moment of peace and calm.

After the trucks and cars had all pulled out—Mrs. Angotti's car spinning its wheels and throwing up gravel—Mom said to Dr. Herks, Robbie, and me, “I
believe
them.” She bit her bottom lip before adding, “I
have
to believe them.”

“Should I stay, Hannah?” His voice was soft and concerned.

She shook her head. “No, Gerry. You have to get your own work done. But call before dinner. In fact…” She hesitated, then said, “Come
for
dinner.” She smiled at him.

He smiled back and nodded. “I'd like that.”

They didn't touch hands or hug or do anything else except those smiles. But I had all my fingers crossed so hard behind my back, I almost sprained my right pinkie.

Oddly, Robbie took hold of my left hand. “It will work out, Ari,” he whispered. “You'll see.”

I didn't know if he meant Kai or if he meant Mom and Dr. Herks, or something else entirely.

“Maybe,” I whispered back.

As Mom wheeled Robbie toward the house, Dr. Herks turned to me. “Your mother is one of the world's true innocents, Arianne,” he said. The furrows in his forehead were deeper than before, and his eyes blue-gray in the fading afternoon light.

“You don't believe they'll keep their silence,” I said. It wasn't a question but a confirmation. And not a proper Quaker thought at all. We're supposed to look for the good in people. It's practically the only rule. “Well,
I
don't believe they will, either.”

“Oh, I believe they were sincere when they promised,” he said thoughtfully. “But having been a medic in a war zone, I have a different take on human nature than your mom. Even making a sincere promise won't stop a person from spilling the beans. It may happen by accident. Or someone may say something trying to impress a teacher or a boyfriend. Or whisper it as a secret to a trusted friend. Or maybe someone will
have
to tell their minister or rabbi. Or a husband or wife.”

“Like Mrs. Angotti.”

He nodded. “Someone might even talk in his or her sleep, or get angry at your mother if she raises her prices, or angry at Martha for … Well, God knows, I get angry at her often enough!”

“Me, too,” I said. “But I love her.”

“Of course you do.” He nodded at me. “But however it happens, those beans are going to get spilled—it's the nature of beans, the nature of secrets. And that will end up hurting the little guy.”

“Kai,” I reminded him. “His name is Kai.”

He nodded again, thoughtfully. “It'll hurt Hannah, too.”

The way he said Mom's name was kind of prayerful. I don't remember Dad ever saying it that way.

“But something else is going on here, isn't it?” Dr. Herks looked at me searchingly. “Are you going to tell me, Arianne, or do I have to ask your mother?”

I stared at the ground unable to answer.

“It's not just about Kai,” Dr. Herks said, trying to help.

I didn't want any help. I didn't want to go to that particular dark place.

But he was relentless, in that careful, caring Quaker way. “I don't want to pry, Arianne. But if this is getting in the way of our solving how to help Kai…”

And then without meaning to, it all flooded out of me. “When Robbie was born, he was called—well—a
seal boy
.”

“I remember that in the papers. Thalidomide babies. People can be cruel to the unusual.”

I nodded, never taking my eyes off the ground. “The doctors weren't sure he'd ever learn to walk. Or talk. Or turn over in his crib. He was one big birth defect.”

“That's a
horrible
way to put it, Arianne. I'm surprised at you.”

I took a big breath. “That's not
me
speaking. I loved Robbie from the very first. Mom did, too. We took turns holding him and feeding him. My dad was the one who said that about him, called him a monster. And then he left us.” I guess I was wondering if Dr. Herks would leave, too. Or that all the attention to Kai might bring unwanted attention to Robbie. Or that both boys would get called
monsters
. And a dozen other things besides.

This time Dr. Herks looked down at the ground, and those blue eyes turned the color of steel. “I see,” he said and was silent.

I believe he did see, but the silence grew between us.

At last I said, “So what are we going to do?”

“I'm not entirely sure.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “But know this, Ari—you and Robbie and Kai mean a lot to me.”

“And Mom?”

“A lot more than you know. So if you need me, call, and I'll be back like a shot, guns blazing.”

It wasn't a very Quakerly thing to say, more a Vet thing. Which was okay by me. Then he held out his hand, and I shook it, just like soldiers do before a big battle. At least that's what they do in the movies.

*   *   *

After dinner and all the excitement and worry and hard work of the day, I fell asleep in front of the television in the middle of Mom's favorite show,
Mister Ed
. She sure loved that talking horse. Laughed even when it wasn't funny, sometimes saying things like, “I swear that if Bor could talk, he'd sound like that!”

She woke me and sent me up to bed.

“I'd have carried you upstairs if you were still small,” she said, her eyes suddenly pooling.

“Mom?” I wondered what she was crying about—all the tension of the day, the memory of me as a child, long before anything bad had happened to our family …

She wiped a hand across her face, and her eyes were clear.

“Dr. Herks?” I mumbled.

She shook her head. “Emergency surgery on a pony hit by a car.” She shrugged. “He'll be over later if he can. To check on Kai.”

I nodded, thinking,
And check on us, too
. And then I went up to bed, where I dreamed about geese flying over the farm, and each one had the head of my dad on its shoulders. Down below, armed with a rifle, Dr. Herks was getting ready to shoot. In the dream, I was shouting at him. When I woke, I didn't know if I'd wanted Dr. Herks to shoot or was trying to stop him.

 

13

Lull Before the Storm

W
E HAD A WONDERFUL WEEK AFTER THAT
. Kai might have been only twenty-eight days old, and while still clearly a foal from the waist down, his human part already looked six or seven. He seemed to become less horselike every day, spending time with Agora when he needed to nurse or sleep, but when Robbie or I were around, always paying attention to us, our words, our gestures, the way we laughed.

Martha had given him some of her rubber bands to tie his hair back with. He preferred the blue ones. And she'd taught him how to make the ponytail himself.

Ponytail!
We all had a good giggle about that. Even Kai.

He was playing a lot with Robbie every day, imitating Robbie's speech, listening hard as Robbie read him books. And he was starting to read himself, though he didn't like the baby picture books, preferring history and stories about myths—Greek and Roman and Viking were his favorites.

He went back to Agora only when he napped or when he wanted to nurse. If Agora was worried or unhappy or upset with him, she didn't show it.

Early on, Dr. Herks had pointed out that Kai was having a growth spurt. “As if the boy Kai has to keep up with the horse Kai.”

In fact, boy Kai had gone from infant to toddler in the first couple of days, and then from toddler to something like a three-year-old by the end of the week. He got all his baby teeth, then lost his first and then his second. When I tried to explain the tooth fairy, he had just giggled and said, “Not true!” As if only he was magic and he couldn't believe anyone else was. I wondered what would happen when we got to Santa Claus or the Bible.

Meanwhile, his hair was growing in thick and shaggy like a mane, with an odd waviness once the curls had grown out. His large eyes always seemed to be searching for something new to do. And he repeated absolutely everything anyone said in a voice that Mom called
flutelike
, meaning—I think—it was high-pitched and full of music.

His vocabulary grew quickly. During his first few days, he had added words like
doh
for the stall door and
dink
for wanting a drink—whether water or milk. He rubbed his eyes, repeating
seep, seep, seep
when he was tired and needed to nap.

I was “Ari,” Robbie was “Brob,” and Dr. Herks “Dada.”

But by the end of that week, he was already talking in short sentences—“Kai wants more” and “No, don't want to” were favorites. And “Ari, gimme.” The start of the second week, he was speaking in longer sentences, and in between, there were whinnies and snorts, which he directed at Agora. Occasionally he spoke to Martha that way, since she clearly understood Horse. So by the third week, we were all having actual conversations.

Sometimes I'd just go into the stall and read aloud to Robbie and Kai. I was really into my new favorite book,
A Wrinkle in Time
, and Robbie had decided that he wanted to be called Charles Wallace and eat bread and jam for breakfast the entire week. Kai tried to copy him, but he spit out the jam until Mom gave him apple butter on his bread. After that, he couldn't get enough.

Kai didn't understand much about the story, of course. He might have been growing fast, but he wasn't ready for science fiction. Still, he loved hearing the words, and he repeated
tesseract
over and over, as if it had some kind of meaning that none of us could understand.

Robbie made up a little song that he taught Kai:

Tesseract folds the space,

Keeps the magic in its place.

Tesseract holds the key

To a father's memory.

 

Ali, Ali, home free.

Ali, Ali, home free.

Ali, Ali, home free,

We all fall down.

Each time Robbie sang the word
tesseract
, Kai would shout it out in his high-pitched voice and then giggle through the next line of the song. It kept them entertained for hours.

I could only stand the song about five times through before I had to close the book and leave. Sometimes I took Agora out with me. She always seemed happy to go as well. I'd let her run around the paddock for a bit, and she kicked her heels up like a colt, all that old arthritis strangely gone. More magic, I suppose.

*   *   *

In the fourth week, a few of our riders came to work their horses or to help out in the barn, but most of the time we had the farm to ourselves. It was grand, even with the extra work, because it seemed as if the worst of our worries about Kai were over. The people at the farm were the ones who knew about Kai, but they were keeping it quiet. We became a family and not just a business with a secret at its heart.

Mom seemed more relaxed since … well, since I couldn't remember when. She even started baking again, cupcakes and angel food cake (my favorite) and a honey cake that proved to be the one Kai liked best. He could eat an entire cake by himself. Well, a small cake, anyway.

*   *   *

Once during that fourth week, on a break from the two boys, I went to help Martha with Professor Harries' gelding. He's not neat at either end.