A Summer Without Horses (12 page)

I had two choices: I could lie to my friends, which was unthinkable, or I could tell them and invite Veronica to join, which was unthinkable.

“Oh, Stevie! My knee doesn’t hurt at all. I really believe there is magic. Everything’s worked out so well!”

Leslie gave me a big hug and I had to hug back. It wasn’t her fault that she was all wrong. She couldn’t know that there wasn’t any magic at all, or if there was magic, it was just black magic—the kind witches use. But there I go again, and I was done telling tall tales.

Or was I? I had two weeks to decide.

I
LOVE
DRIVING
places with my father. There’s something so nice about it’s being just the two of us alone, no phone, no television, no interruptions. We’ve had a lot of time together alone at home since Mom died, but being in the car is somehow special.

Dad and I were on our way to New York. We live in Virginia, so it’s about a five-hour drive to New York City, where we were going to spend a couple of weeks. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have been thrilled about spending so much time away from Pine Hollow, the stable where I ride and board my horse, Starlight. But for once being far from horses actually appealed to me.

Once we were on the Interstate, Dad asked me about it—right after he’d found the oldies station on the radio.
He would have asked me sooner, but they were playing “There’s a Moon Out Tonight” and he had to sing along. He’s got a good voice. I didn’t mind at all. I even joined in on some of the falsetto parts. We’re good together.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

“Me, too.”

Then he reached over and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. That was one of his ways of saying that being in a car with me was as special for him as it was for me.

“You’ve been in New York before, haven’t you?”

“Sure, with Max, Mrs. Reg, and Stevie and Lisa.” I was talking about my riding instructor and his mother, and of course my two best friends in The Saddle Club. “We went to the horse show.”

“And you rode in Central Park, didn’t you?”

“Yup. And that’s where we met Skye Ransom. We taught him to ride, you know.” Skye Ransom is this incredibly cute movie star, but you know that already, don’t you?

“That’s right,” Dad commented. “Well, I’m glad you’re coming with me this time, but I
am
wondering what changed your mind. Two days ago, you said there was no way you could leave Pine Hollow Stable and your wonderful horse Starlight for a couple of weeks. Is Starlight all right? I mean he’s not lame or anything, is he? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Starlight’s fine, Dad; it’s Stevie who’s got a problem.”

Dad gave me a quizzical look that indicated the statement I’d just made didn’t make any sense. If you think about it, it probably doesn’t, but any sentence with the name “Stevie” in it is likely to be confused. She’s that kind of girl. I explained to Dad about Stevie’s sitting area and how it got hurt falling out of a tree house.

Dad started laughing by the time I described Stevie crouching outside the window of the house high up in the tree. Honestly, I never thought it was all that funny, but then Stevie’s a really good friend of mine. What am I saying? She’s a really good friend of Dad’s, too. The two of them both adore stuff from the fifties and sixties. Last year, Dad threw his back out trying to play with a Hula-Hoop Stevie gave him for his birthday. They both love awful jokes, too. So, why was Dad laughing?

“I can just see her!” he said between snorts. “I bet she was madder than a hornet that her brothers tried to keep her out of the tree house. I mean, I’m glad she didn’t get hurt worse, but sliding all the way down the branch!”

“But, Dad, she
did
get hurt worse! She got a bone bruise on her coccyx. Do you know where that is?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “It’s where you sit down.”

“Like in a
saddle
,” I said, emphasizing the word.

“Oh, no.” He understood.

The radio then played “Heartbreak Hotel,” which
seemed quite appropriate to me. Dad had to sing it, too. I let him do a solo. When it was over, I went on.

“So, Lisa and I pledged that we wouldn’t ride horses until Stevie could. It made her feel a lot better. And I don’t mind, really.”

“As long as you can come to New York with me?”

“Well, the timing did seem good,” I admitted.

“And who’s going to exercise Starlight while you’re gone?”

“Red O’Malley. Max has the first session of summer camp going on and Red will be riding a lot while he instructs the young kids. He can use Starlight whenever he wants. It’ll free up the rest of the stable horses for other riders. It seemed like a good deal.”

“Hmmmmm.” That’s a phrase my father uses occasionally when he’s got something on his mind that he has to think about, but he’s not ready to talk about. I knew I’d have to wait.

I waited through two Motown hits and a Sam Cooke ballad. We then sang along with “Purple People Eater.” Dad was ready to talk after that.

“If you can’t ride, how come you brought all your riding clothes?”

“I did?”

“Unless you’ve got something other than your high boots that would make all those lumps in your suitcase, I’m pretty sure you did.”

I looked at him in astonishment. Had I actually done
that? “It was pure reflex, Dad,” I said. “People always remember what’s really important to them, so I never forget to bring my riding clothes. I just forget when I can’t use them!”

“So, how did you do on items that other people don’t forget, like toothbrush, comb, and clean underwear?”

I cast my mind back to the packing process. I could remember putting in my riding clothes. I’d included some summer dresses, shorts, even a bathing suit. Then I recalled the rest of it. “No, no, and yes,” I said.

“We’ll pick up a toothbrush and comb when we get to the city,” he said. “Toothpaste?”

I am a flake about everything but horses. “We’d better get some toothpaste, too,” I said. “I don’t like that stuff you use. It’s too good for you.”

“If you can’t ride, does that mean you can’t be around horses?”

I had to think for a second. I’d done what I could to get myself as far from Starlight as possible so I wouldn’t be tempted to ride. I wasn’t so sure about other horses. Then I remembered that Stevie was planning to spend all her time at Pine Hollow. That was about as close to horses as you could get.

“Nope. I can be around them. I just can’t ride them.”

“Good,” he said. “Because there are two days during this meeting when I’ll have to go on a retreat. I wasn’t sure what you’d do then, so I called Dorothy DeSoto. She
and Nigel are going to be home and would love to have you come out to Long Island to visit them at their stable. Will that be okay?”

Okay wasn’t the right word. Fabulous was closer to it.

I
LOVE
N
EW
Y
ORK
. There’s so much happening. I mean it’s confusing and all, but there are those millions of people, all of whom seem to know where they are going—and they’re in such a hurry to get there! It inspires me to want to know where I’m going, too.

Dad planned to have a couple of days just with me before his conference began. Walking around New York with my father, doing one thing and another, is just as wonderful as riding in a car alone with him. He really is a terrific guy—even if he teases more than he really ought to.

I woke up early our first morning in the city. We were staying in a big hotel with room service, so I ordered this wonderful breakfast for us—fresh fruit, eggs, sausage, orange juice, coffee for Dad, and hot chocolate for me.

Anyway, once we finished eating—and the waiter had come and rolled the breakfast table back out of our suite (isn’t that neat?)—we got dressed and headed out to see the world—the world of New York City, that is.

Our first stop was F.A.O. Schwarz. It’s one of the biggest toy stores in the world and it’s a magical place to be. From the minute you walk in, you feel like you’ve arrived at Oz or something. There are adorable, wonderful toys everywhere and they put a lot of them out to play with.

“Trains. We’re going to see the trains,” Dad announced. There was no arguing with that. We went up the escalator and found the train sets. There were a couple of different-size sets, all up and running through worlds of their own with little tracks, trains, stations, trees, and houses. The trains crisscrossed one another, stopping and starting in perfect harmony. Dad could hardly keep his eyes off them. I liked it when they blew their whistles and puffed little O’s of smoke.

“Wish you had a son?” I asked, watching him. He was mesmerized by the miniature world.

He put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he assured me. “However, I also wouldn’t mind if you’d ask for a train set now and again.”

“No way,” I said. “I mean it’s cute and all, but what’s there to play with? All you can do is watch the trains go in circles. Now, if you want me to ask for a toy—and one
that’s a lot cheaper than a train set—let’s talk about horses!”

I had already spotted them, too. The horses weren’t far from the train sets and I yanked Dad’s hand until he finally relented. Between you and me, I think he already knew I was going to want one, so he was prepared.

There was a wide selection of model horses at the store, but I didn’t have any trouble at all making up my mind because the first thing I saw was a model that looked almost exactly like Starlight! He was a big bay with a star on his forehead and he was jumping over a fence.

“That one, please,” I said, pointing for the benefit of a saleswoman.

“Good choice,” she said. “He’s a beauty, isn’t he?”

“He looks just like my horse,” I explained. “My horse is named Starlight and he’s a super jumper and one day he’ll be a champion, and so will I, and even though it’s just about twenty-four hours since I last saw him, I miss him already because he’s the nicest horse in the world although when I got him he wasn’t completely trained, but he’s just about all trained now because I’ve been working very hard with him. I ride him almost every day, you know. You really have to do it if you’re serious about training and showing your own horse. See—”

I would have gone on, except the saleswoman was talking to Dad.

“My daughter was exactly the same,” she said. “Horse-crazy.”

“And what’s she doing now?” Dad asked. I could tell he was wondering what the future held for me.

“She’s an ophthalmologist.”

No way. If you’re truly horse-crazy, it’s for life. I haven’t decided what I’m going to be when I grow up, but it’s not going to be an ophthalmologist. I’m going to work with horses. I might be a show rider, a breeder, an instructor, or a veterinarian. Preferably all of them. I’m going to be busy in my future!

Dad paid for the horse and handed it to me. The saleswoman waved good-bye and wished me good luck. She wished Dad good luck, too. I think parents of horse-crazy kids don’t understand, but that’s okay, as long as they keep on letting us be horse-crazy.

“Do you think buying a model horse is the same as riding?” Dad asked. I knew he was teasing a little. He thought the pledge Lisa and I had made for Stevie was a little silly and that was his way of saying it.

“Of course not,” I told him. “Stevie’s spending the time working with horses. The only thing we can’t do is to get on them.”

“How about be pulled by them?” Dad asked. He pointed to a whole long line of horse-drawn cabs meant to take people for rides in Central Park.

It was tempting, I’ve got to admit. The horses weren’t any beauties like the ones I’m used to riding. They were good strong draught horses, some not very well groomed at that. Still, there’s something wonderful about the scent
of a horse and leather and even these dusty old hansom cabs could offer that.

Riding in one of the cabs wouldn’t be exactly the same as riding a horse, but I had to say no. I did take a moment to pat a couple of the horses, though, and one of the drivers had a carrot for me to give to his horse, a big old gray gelding with a velvety soft nose. I think he liked me. I gave him a hug and then patted him to say good-bye.