Chapter Two

 

Thursday, September 12th, 6:20 p.m.

 

When we finished chores and climbed the stairs to the inside back porch that my mom called the “mud room,” I kicked off my shoes while Jack pulled off his boots. It wasn’t worth our teenage lives to track barn muck into the house. I looked through the glass window of the door and saw Felicia setting the kitchen table for dinner. Mom stirred something at the stove.

I could already hear Felicia chattering about some class she was taking and what she’d told her teacher and he’d told her. Like anybody cared, I thought. Of course, I wouldn’t say so. My older sister honestly believed we couldn’t live without the psycho-babble she loved so much.

As soon as I opened the door, she darted across the room to hug me. Oh, come on!

The two of us had a huge fight about her hogging the bathroom and using up my tube of mascara the day she left and now we were supposed to be best buds. Give me a break!

“I’ve missed you guys so much.” Felicia whirled away from me and flung herself on Jack. He scooped her up in a big hug.

“How’s Vinnie?” Jack demanded. “Does he like the barn? His paddock? Did you find somewhere to buy him organic carrots?”

“I knew it,” Felicia crowed. “You miss him more than you do me. You’re weird, all right.”

“Great diagnosis,” I said. “Is that what you’re going to tell all your patients when you’re a shrink?”

“Only the strange ones,” Felicia said, with a toss of her strawberry blonde hair.

“Good to know.” I headed for the bathroom to wash up.

Dinner was on the table at six thirty exactly, one of my dad’s rules. He freaked when one of my track or cross-country meets ran overtime or started late so we had to eat at a different time. Mom claimed his hang-up about appointments was just a personality flaw and nothing to get in a dither about. Of course, she was the one who said no animals, no TV, no iPods, or cell phones at the table. We had to talk to each other like civilized people, or she’d make us wish we had. I lived with two total control freaks for parents and Felicia and Jack were pretty much the same way.

Mom made all my favorites for supper, spaghetti with meat sauce, Caesar salad, and garlic bread. I didn’t have to ask about dessert. She’d have ordered in a cake from the local bakery, chocolate with custard filling, and there’d be chocolate ice cream in the freezer. A pile of brightly wrapped presents covered the top of the breakfast bar.

When I’d looked out in the drive before dinner, I didn’t see my car anywhere, but it had to be somewhere. Either that or Mom and Dad arranged for me to go with them to pick it up later. It was all I could do to sit still while Felicia talked about her freshman year at college and Jack shared what happened at football practice that afternoon. Mom told us about a sale at the local crafts store and how she’d loaded up on material for a new quilt. Dad had two new clients, so he was all that, too! Could these people eat any slower?

Finally, they finished and I jumped up to clear away the dishes. Mom put away the leftovers. Jack and Dad arranged my gifts on the table, and Felicia hurried off to her room to bring back a couple more. I had a great family, really I did. And I should be more appreciative of them. My best friend’s dad had walked out on her birthday last June—some gift. Mine would never do that, not in a million years.

“Leave the dishes for me, Robbie,” Dad said. “Come open your presents.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I hustled to the kitchen table, pausing to hug him on the way. “There’s nearly as much stuff here as I get for Christmas. You guys rock!”

Laughing, Mom and Felicia leaned against each other at the far end of the table, looking more like sisters than mother and daughter. They both had bright blue eyes, strawberry-blonde hair and wore the same kind of cowgirl clothes, jeans, western shirts, and Ropers. Little wonder that my sister went off to cow college in Pullman. She’d probably bring home some farmer guy for a new boyfriend.

She’d dumped her last one when he suggested she sell Vinnie to pay tuition. Nobody came between her and that purebred, seventeen-hand, buckskin Appaloosa. She’d gotten him for her sixteenth birthday. Well, actually Mom couldn’t find ‘the perfect horse’ for her. So, Mom cut a picture out of a horse magazine, stuck it on a toothpick, and put it in the middle of Felicia’s cake.

The two of them shopped for the next month, visiting horse sales, breeders, and shows, rodeos until they found Vinnie and brought him home. My parents did the same thing when Jack turned sixteen, a picture on a toothpick in the middle of his cake. He and Dad bonded on the quest to find Nitro. Personally, I could think of better places to spend money, like the outlet mall over on the reservation by Marysville.

I reached for the large pink envelope on top of the boxes of presents. This one could be the papers for my car. It had to be. I peeled back the flap. It was the spine of a greeting card. Okay, the card could have the car title inside. But, it didn’t.

Hand-painted, the front showed a rainbow group of horses, a buckskin Appy, a solid bay, a snow-white one, and a chestnut dashing across a green field. I recognized all of them, Vinnie, Buster, Nitro, and Singer. Behind them, looking down from the clouds was a shadowy pony, a faded strawberry roan. Tears stung at the memory of my first horse, but I didn’t let them fall. “This is amazing, Jack.”

“I knew you’d love it.” He grinned at me. “I’ve been working on it for the past month.”

“It’s definitely a keeper.” I’d add it to the bulletin board in my room. Even if I didn’t much care for horses, I loved my brother’s artwork. Jack’s poem inside wished me a happy day and sixteenth year, but it wasn’t sappy. And the fifty dollar bill—oh yeah, I could go places with it.

I’m not a real touchy-feely person like Felicia, but I hugged Jack, anyway. “This is the best.”

Another grin. “And you’re just getting started.”

My car, my car, my car!

Where was it? When would I find out about it?

I opened one present after another. Dad gave me raingear. What was he thinking? Even when I ran in the rain, I didn’t wear heavy vinyl. I’d die of heat prostration. From Mom, I got a new blue jean jacket, two flannel shirts, and three pairs of jeans. Come on, give me a break. Okay, so I lived on a farm. It didn’t mean that it was my thing and I’d dress like Ellie Mae off the Beverly Hillbillies. Of course, nobody listened when I suggested moving into town, a real one, not Marysville.

Next box. This one was from my mom and my sister. I peeled back the paper and found a carton labeled Ropers. No way! They hadn’t bought me boots like theirs, had they? Yes, icky big brown lace-up ones. I hoped my disgust didn’t show. These looked like I’d be in the Army before I graduated. Well, they were expensive. I’d get the receipt from Mom and return them for something I would actually wear.

Two gifts remained. The first was a package of horse books, and I almost groaned. What would it take to get them off my back? I didn’t do horses, and I definitely didn’t read about them. However, the entire family was so hooked on them they just couldn’t let things go. Last summer, I barely got to hang out with my best friend until she agreed to go to horse camp with me. Vicky loved horses, so she had a blast while it was a real endurance contest for me. Well, I’d pass the books onto her. She’d savor every page.

My parents had a thing about me being home alone when they went to work—talk about control freaks. I’d been fifteen, not a baby. And I’d have been okay by myself for a few hours while Felicia was at the counseling center learning what therapists do and Jack did his lifeguard thing at the pool. Instead, I wound up grooming, saddling and feeding horses, and taking little kids back and forth to the restroom. I told Rocky, the instructor and owner of Shamrock Stables, that she should change the name. It shouldn’t be called “Pony Camp,” but “Pee-Pee Camp.” She laughed her butt off and gave me a coffee card for being a good sport.

With the way I avoided Mom’s endurance rides, Dad’s calf roping, Jack’s gaming and Felicia’s three-day eventing, I’d thought they’d get the message that I wasn’t into horses. But, no. One of them was always hassling me. Come ride with me on the Centennial Trail. Buster needs to muscle up. I made an apple crisp for dessert tonight. Come visit the horses with me while I feed them these apple peels. Vinnie needs braids for this weekend. Come talk to me while I sew his mane.

Nag, nag, nag. I was so sick of it!

The last gift came from Jack and Dad. I opened it up and stared at the leather bridle and green striped saddle blanket. My stomach knotted. “What is this? A mistake?”

“It’s a family tradition,” Felicia crowed and ran around to hug me. “I thought you’d figured it out when I came home to go with you and Mom.”

“Figured out what?” A sinking dread swept over me. “You guys can’t be serious.”

“And when you came down to help in the barn tonight,” Jack gave me a brotherly shove, “I knew that you’d see the stall I fixed up or the remodeling in the tack room.”

I hadn’t even bothered to look around the barn this afternoon. Jack was always messing around. Who knew or cared what was going on down there? Well, other than the rest of my family that is!

Sobs clogged my throat as Mom stood and headed for the bakery box on the kitchen counter. “I don’t believe you people.”

Dad chuckled. “What did you expect, Robin? It’s a family tradition. You get to choose a purebred horse for your sixteenth birthday.”

“But I don’t want a stinky, smelly horse!” I jumped up, letting the bridle and blanket fall to the floor. “Don’t you ever listen? I showed you the Mustang again and again. I want a car. My car, so I can go places!”

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I swiped it away and ran out the back door. Crying in front of them. No way! Not after this! They’d ruined everything. I grabbed my shoes and raced across the porch. I was so outta there.

My car, my car, my car!