Читать книгу The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle - Shelley Peterson - Страница 24

14

THE HOMECOMING

ABBY CONTINUED TO STARE AT THE PLACE where the Tin Woodsman had stood just seconds before. Robert Wick? This was heavy stuff. What would he think if he knew? How tragic, that Ambrose had mistakenly killed himself trying to make Robert love him.

Abby’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She pulled herself together, turned back to the mirror, and began smoothing foundation makeup on her face.

“What are you doing here?” asked a chilly voice.

Abby looked at the mirror. It was Margaret Small. She turned. “Hello, Miss Small! Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, and I’m here for the rehearsal.” Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose was all stuffed up. Her voice sounded hoarse. She didn’t look well.

Abby blushed. “Oh! Wonderful. I didn’t know, so I came to stand in for you today.”

Margaret continued to look down her nose at Abby. “So it would seem.”

The woman was intentionally making Abby feel uncomfortable, and Abby knew it. She said, “I came because Mrs. Featherstone asked me to help you out, not because I’m trying to steal your role.”

“That’s not what I hear, Abby Malone.”

Abby stood and faced Margaret Small. She was getting upset.

“I’ve heard that you’re acting your heart out for Robert and Joy, who’s living in your house, by the by. You want them to think you’re better than me so they’ll give you the part.” Margaret spoke harshly. “I see your plan.”

“I’m doing my best because it’s more fun that way, and so the other actors have something to work with. So shoot me.” She borrowed Ambrose’s line. “But there’s no great plan. I was your stand-in while you were sick, and that’s all I ever expected to be.”

“Good. So you can go.”

“You’re welcome! No thanks necessary! So glad to have been of assistance! Any time!” Abby was furious. She felt insulted and wronged. Gathering her things as fast as she could, she ignored the other actors who were streaming into the dressing room. She couldn’t trust herself to speak.

“Hi, Abby! Hey, what’s eating you?”

“You got here early again, Abby. Abby?”

“What’s wrong with the Blue-Winged Fairy? She turned her tongue into a toad?”

Abby rushed up the stairs, pushing people aside until she was safely outside and alone. She hoisted her knapsack on her back and pedalled away from the theatre as fast as she could, shadowed reassuringly by Cody.

When Abby got home, she unlocked the kitchen door and threw her knapsack on the floor. By force of habit, she checked the answering machine. There were four messages.

She pressed PLAY and the first one began. “Abby! It’s your dad. It’s noon on Saturday. Your mother is doing so well that they’re letting her go home next week. We should be arriving for dinner on Saturday night, so throw another couple of shrimps on the barbie. I love you, sweetheart. Say hello to Joy from us, and keep up the training. We can’t wait to see you ride Dancer next Sunday. Joy told me that you’re an actress, too! Hope you’re having fun. Love from us both. Bye.”

Abby wiped a tear from her eye. The sound of her father’s voice created a lump in her throat. What a baby I am, she thought.

The second message began. “Abby, it’s Hilary. Mom says you’re doing great things with Dancer. I’m so excited. Sandy and I are coming home for the Invitational, so I’ll call when we get in. See you next week. Bye for now.”

The next one was Christine James, for Joy. “Hi, Mom. Just checking in. Call me about when you want to move over here. Hilary and Sandy are coming home next Friday night. I never see you anymore, you’re so busy!”

When the hushed last voice began to play, Abby’s ears pricked up. “Abby, it’s Sam. What happened? Margaret Small says you ran out mad because she came back, but I know you wouldn’t do that. I’m coming over after rehearsal.”

Sam had been whispering. Abby guessed that he’d used the hall phone outside the dressing room, and he hadn’t wanted anybody to hear. She looked at her watch. Two thirty. Rehearsals would’ve started by now.

Should she go back to the theatre and explain that she wasn’t angry? But what would she say? That Margaret was insulting and rude? Abby slumped down at the table and rested her forehead on her arms. The day had been perfect until now, she thought.

She heard a scratch on the kitchen door.

“Cody,” Abby said fondly as she opened the door for the worried little coyote. “You came to comfort me.” She knelt down and rubbed behind his ears. He liked that. He rolled over onto his back for a tummy tickle, then stood and shook. His intense grey eyes stared at her.

“Yes, Cody, I feel much happier. You’ve cheered me up.” Cody wagged his tail and put a paw up on Abby’s knee. “Thanks, little guy.”

On the floor beside them lay her knapsack. Abby pulled out the script. There’s no doubt about it, pondered Abby. I’ve become stagestruck. Margaret’s right. I really want to act in this play. And if I’m honest with myself, I did want people to think I was better than her.

When did it happen? When did acting turn from a way to join the herd to something she felt bereft without?

One rehearsal! That was her whole acting resumé. Her entire experience.

Abby took the script over to the chair by the window and curled up her legs. Cody found a comfortable spot on the rug for a nap, and Abby began to read. She read very carefully this time, watching for clues to character development and relationships, exits and timing, suspense devices. She realized that there was a definite shape to the play. A beginning where you meet the main characters and get involved in their lives. The story buildup with gathering events and necessary tension. The ending that tied all the strings together.

Abby started reading all the parts aloud, stressing different words to get different effects. She tried accents on some of the characters, just for fun. She played with funny voices.

Cody slept, content to be with his Abby as she amused herself in an imaginary world.

That was the scene that Sam came upon when he looked through the pane in her door three hours later. He smiled, then caught her startled eye.

School was out. By Wednesday at noon, the teaching staff had had enough and declared that the summer recess was officially started. Caledon High was a beehive of activity as lockers were cleaned out, the lost and found box rummaged. Kids exchanged summer addresses and hugged their friends goodbye. The graduating class could be identified either by a triumphant look or a tear in the eye. Music was played loudly in the halls until angry teachers stopped it. Then it would start again down another hall. Finally, hands over ears, the teachers conceded and packed their desks, ready for a well-earned, much-needed vacation.

Sam had offered to drive Abby home. Lucy had her grandfather’s truck and other kids were going her way, too, but Abby wanted to bicycle home on this last day of school. Everybody was going to rehearsal. She felt totally left out again. She wanted to be alone.

Her parents would be home in three days. She was eager to see them after all the time they’d been away. Four days from now was the Grand Invitational. Shivers ran down her spine, and her stomach churned.

Today was Dancer’s last jumping day before the event. It was very important that all went well. He needed perfect confidence going into the show.

As she cycled, Abby rode a practice course in her mind. She would concentrate on each jump, setting him up just right then leaving him alone to let him find his balance, look for the next jump and do it all over again. She practised keeping her heels down to retain the correct seat and keep her calf muscles tight. She reminded herself to focus ahead, over the jumps, and not to look at the ground. She remembered the tip she’d been told about water jumps. She’d ride it like it was five feet high, to get Dancer’s arch wide enough for the twelve-foot spread.

Sam had been driving alongside her for several seconds before she saw him.

“What are you laughing at, Sam?”

“You! Are you in another world again?”

Abby grinned. “Actually, I’m riding Dancer over a course. Am I clearing the jumps?”

“I don’t see any poles on the ground,” answered Sam. “You’ll start to worry me soon, Abby,” he warned. “The last time, you were acting all the parts in Pinocchio.”

“Well, stop creeping up on me, then,” she said, laughing. “Are you going to rehearsal now?”

“Yes. Everybody wants you back. Margaret Small is horrible to people, and she’s not nearly as good as you.”

Abby considered this for a moment as she rode along beside Sam’s truck. “That might be her problem, Sam. Maybe she’s insecure. Be nice to her. Tell her she’s fabulous. If she relaxed, she’d probably be a better Blue-Winged Fairy and become easier to live with.”

“I’ll try. And I’ll tell Lucy. She’s really bugged by her. She can’t forgive her for saying you were a sore loser.”

“She said I was a sore loser? It wasn’t a contest!” Abby said, dismayed.

“Water under the bridge, Abby. Everybody knows the truth.” Sam looked at the clock on his dashboard. “Are you free for a movie tonight? A bunch of us are going to the eight o’clock.”

“Sure! Have fun at rehearsal, and see you later. Oh! What time?”

“I’ll pick you up on the way back, around seven fifteen, and we’ll get something quick to eat before the show.” Sam waved out his window all the way down the road until he disappeared from view.

He did it again. Abby smiled. He completely restole my heart.

On Saturday afternoon when Abby finished riding Dancer, she started organizing things for the horse show. With great anticipation, she opened Hilary’s polished oak tack box. She took out the contents, washed the insides, then started shaking out bandages and dusting off brushes. The box had not been opened in five years.

Abby considered what she’d need. Grooming tools. She put aside hoof-oil, a hoof-pick, curry, mane comb, stiff body brush, soft brush, and a towel for the final shine. She’d need a cooling sheet and perhaps a light blanket. Leg wraps and trailer boots. Spare reins, crop, chin chain, lead shank, halter. The halter, lead shank, boots, and cooler she placed in readiness for tomorrow’s trailer ride. The other things she rearranged in the trunk.

Abby looked up and watched Dancer graze beside Henry. She made a wish. Crossing her fingers she said aloud, “Please let us win.” Then she touched the wooden trunk in case she’d jinxed herself.

Tomorrow morning she’d bathe him and shine him up.

His mane had already been pulled short, ready to braid. His whiskers had been shaved and he had a new set of shoes. The cuts and scrapes from his pit adventure had healed well. He looked like he did in the old days when no horse could outjump him. He was a beautiful sight. Abby got goosebumps.

She began cleaning the tack. She scrubbed the bit and polished the brass strip on his headband. She got the stirrups cleaner than they’d ever been. The leather martingale, bridle, reins, girth, and saddle were soaped with linseed and carefully wiped down. She oiled her saddle, then placed it on the saddle-rack. Tomorrow, she would pack it all in the tack box.

Hilary’s clothes were hanging on the tack hook in a drycleaner’s bag. Jacket, breeches, white shirt, ratcatcher, black gloves, belt. Tall black boots stood polished on the floor under the clothes. Abby mentally checked the items off. She thought she was ready. Was she missing anything?

Hilary James walked in. “Abby! Got everything?”

Abby smiled. “Hey, Hilary! I think so, thanks to you. You’re great to lend me all this. Still, I can’t help thinking I’ve forgotten something.”

“There’s a lot to remember, isn’t there?”

“I’m so excited about tomorrow. I hope I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

Hilary smiled. “I know how you feel, but even if you don’t get a wink it won’t matter. You’ll do beautifully, then sleep tomorrow night.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Hilary reached into her pocket. “I’ve got something for you to wear tomorrow. For good luck.” The young woman opened her hand.

Abby’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no! I couldn’t wear that. What if I lose it?”

“You won’t. I’ll pin it on you myself so if it falls off, it’s my fault.”

Abby gazed at the antique fox-head pin with its ruby eyes. “You always wore that, didn’t you, when you showed?” she said in awe.

“Every time. And it brought me luck. Every time.”

When Abby cycled up her lane, she immediately saw her parents’ car sitting in the turnaround. They were home! She parked her bike against the wall and raced into the house.

“Mom! Dad! Where are you?”

“In here, Abby! The living room!”

Abby turned down the hall and came to a halt. There were her parents, with Joy Featherstone, and Pete and Laura Pierson.

“I don’t know who to hug first!” cried Abby. “I haven’t seen you for a long time,” she said to the Piersons.

Laura laughed merrily. “Hug your parents first, dear. We can wait.”

Pete put his arm around his wife and smiled in agreement.

Abby embraced her parents at the same time. The three Malones held each other tight. “I missed you,” Abby said through the lump in her throat.

“We missed you, too,” said Liam.

“I love you, Abby,” Fiona whispered. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I know it’s been horrible for you.”

Abby hugged her even tighter. “I’m just glad you’re home. We’ll talk later.”

Fiona looked at her daughter. So mature. “We sure will.”

Abby turned to Pete and Laura with open arms. “Now it’s your turn!” They all laughed and hugged.

To join the fun, Joy made the three-way hug into a four-way hug. Fiona and Liam circled them, joking about the group hugs and touchy-feely sensitivity training at the spa.

The doorbell rang. “Are there more people coming?” Abby asked her mother.

“Answer the door and you’ll see,” she answered.

Hilary, Sandy, Christine, and Rory stood on the porch.

“Come in!” said a very surprised Abby. “Hilary, you didn’t tell me you were coming over!”

“I was sworn to secrecy, and you don’t cross my grandmother. She organized a Welcome Home surprise party for your parents.”

“You’d think I’d be let in on that,” said Abby, slightly confused.

“You would have been,” piped up Joy, “if it wasn’t also a Good Luck Tomorrow party for you.”

Abby was deeply moved. “Thank you,” was all she could say. She looked from face to face. Her mother, radiant and much younger-looking than when she’d left, dressed in a soft jade silk shirt with cream pants. Her father, handsome and charming, making everyone feel at home and comfortable. Laura Pierson, in a bright pink dress, the feisty, kindhearted, sweet old lady who loved a good laugh. Pete Pierson, who was always there for her through thick and thin. Hilary, her idol, who was allowing her to ride her magnificent stallion. Sandy, always sensible, humourous, and intelligent. Rory and Christine, both loyal friends and good people. Joy Featherstone, to whom Abby had grown truly close, with a moral compass pointing true north. These people were her support group, she realized. She felt extremely lucky to have them in her life.

There was a knock on the door. Abby’s eyebrows raised.

Joy winked at her and said, “There’s one more person coming to dinner, Abby. Open the door. Go ahead.”

It was Sam. Abby looked back at Joy, whose face was crinkled up with sheer delight, and gave her the thumbs-up. “Thanks,” she mouthed across the noisy room. She opened the door and gave Sam a hug.

“For you,” he said shyly, and handed her a small rectangular box.

“Can I open it now?” Abby asked.

“Sure. I hope they’re the right thing. They’re for good luck.”

Abby ripped off the paper and lifted the lid, revealing a pair of black leather riding gloves. She gasped. “They’re fabulous!” She tried them on. “They fit like a glove!” She laughed and modelled the gloves for everyone.

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll wear them tomorrow. I love them.”

“Dinner is served!” called Joy from the dining room. “Come sit down. Your places are marked. Come, come, before dinner gets cold!”

Through the kitchen door snuck Robert Wick, holding his forefinger to his lips. He kept out of sight behind Joy as she hustled around arranging dinner. Everyone had trouble not laughing aloud and spoiling the fun.

“Throw another place on the table,” he finally shouted. “I’m not missing this party.”

Joy spun around and faced him, grinning from ear to ear. “You said you were busy tonight! Who put you up to this, you old goat?” she cried.

“Guilty!” admitted Rory, delighted with the game.

“There’s enough to go around, isn’t there, Joy?”

“Even if I go hungry myself, I’d never turn you away.” Joy wiped her hands on her apron and kissed him right on the lips.

This caused a great uproar. Hoots and applause filled the room as Joy and Robert continued their embrace.

The twelve dear friends sat down to a delicious, home-cooked meal. There was no shortage of conversation as plates were passed and appetites were sated. A happy glow filled every heart.

An angry man observed the scene through the dining room window. This confirms it, seethed Samuel Owens. They’re all in it together. The Caseys, the Malones, the Jameses. And Robert Wick. They think they can appease me by throwing me a crumb. I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.

Another pair of eyes, these ones steel grey, kept watch over the intruder. Prepared to fight tooth and nail to protect his loved ones, Cody bristled and snarled softly. One false move, and he’d be there.

Owens slunk away as stealthily as is possible on crutches. Halfway down the lane, he whistled loudly. With the car’s headlights off, Walter, hunched down in the driver’s seat, rolled the Mercedes in neutral to meet him. Walter jumped out and silently opened the back door to usher in his boss.

“Get out of here fast,” Owens barked to the cringing manservant. “This place makes me sick to my stomach.”

Cody watched them go.