“What’s the matter?” Ebony wraps her arms around Rosie and squeezes her tight. A crack of thunder makes us all jump, and then the heavens open up.
“Quick! Beanos is still open—”
We sprint across the street and into Beanos, an all-night coffee shop half a block away. By the time we slide into a booth we are all soaked.
Rosie wipes the rain and tears from her face and mumbles another apology.
“Don’t be silly,” Ebony says, giving Rosie’s hand a friendly pat. “Tara has this effect on people.”
Rosie won’t look at me. Was it my poem that upset her?
“Hey, I’m sorry…I—”
“We never talk about it,” she says.
“Talk about…” Oh. “Oh, Rosie, I had no idea.”
Ebony looks from Rosie to me and back at Rosie.
“It was my aunt. My mother’s sister.” Rosie’s having trouble getting the words out. “Except she didn’t leave a note. So we don’t really know for sure…”
Her voice trails off. For once Ebony seems at a loss for words.
“I have to go,” Rosie says. Before we can stop her, she’s up and out of her seat, running from the coffee shop.
“Wait! Rosie!” I scramble out of the booth, but before I can chase after her, Ebony catches my wrist.
“Let her go,” she says.
“But—”
“There’s nothing you can say. We’ll see her again at the team meeting.”
“But—”
“Trust me. Just let her go. She doesn’t want us to follow.”
It’s so dangerous, making assumptions about what someone else wants or doesn’t want. Ebony doesn’t understand that.
“I thought I knew what was best for my sister.” The story rushes out as I reluctantly slide back into my seat.
“I thought if I could get my sister back on a horse, she’d snap out of it, stop feeling so miserable. It didn’t work.”
“I thought she was paralyzed?”
“You girls want coffee? Menus?” the waitress asks.
“Tea for her,” Ebony says. “Hot chocolate for me, please.”
“Your friend coming back?”
“I don’t think so.”
The waitress strides away.
“She was partly paralyzed from the waist down. A horse fell on her and broke her back. But she loved riding more than anything.”
“So you took her riding?”
I nod, remembering. “It was bad. I thought she could ride on our Paralympic team one day. You know, for disabled riders? But it didn’t work out…”
I stare down at the table. That’s an understatement. The trips to the barn had been a disaster. Hannah had been in a lot of pain and, worse, she’d been terrible at it. Not like before the accident, when it seemed she could ride any horse.
“You were just trying to help.”
“I made things worse.”
Ebony shakes her head. “You don’t know that.”
I shrug. She wasn’t there to see Hannah crying. And now, doing these Hannah poems, I’ve made things hard for Rosie. “I shouldn’t be doing these poems,” I say.
“You have to do these poems,” Ebony counters. “You never know what someone will take away from your work.”
“I know, but still, I should—”
“Should what? Write about puppies? Love? Springtime? This stuff is exactly what you should be writing about.”
The waitress is back with our drinks.
“Rosie’s tough. She’ll be fine. I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t know what you write about.”
I nod. But I don’t feel like chatting anymore. I drink my tea as quickly as I can without scalding my mouth. “I’m tired. I need to get home.”
How will I apologize? I am sorry that I didn’t listen to my gut and keep my mouth shut. I’m sorry that these are the poems that keep coming to me. I’m sorry that Hannah is gone but won’t go away.
The next day the package arrives in the mail. Even though Mom warned me it was coming, it’s still a shock when I pull Hannah’s journal from the thick padded envelope.
It’s heavier than I expect and stuffed full of photos, postcards and score sheets.
I flip through the pages. Reading her training notes, I hear Hannah’s voice in my head.
Working on steadying strides through combinations.
Jackie-boy is too fit! He’s rushing and too forward and strong. Rena says we’ll work on that next week.
Hannah filled page after page with notes about everything from the treats she gave her horse (Crackerjack scarfed down both apples and asked for more) to the stretching and strength exercises she did morning and night in her bedroom.
Rena thinks I should get a gym membership.
Rena says I should sign up for the Roger Whitcomb clinic.
Excellent dressage test today! Crackerjack is the BEST HORSE EVER!!!!!
The night before the horse show where Crackerjack hit the fence and they fell, Hannah had made a list of things to remember to take.
stock pin
jacket
shipping boots from dryer
extra water bucket
The list is a full page long, and beside each item she added a tiny smiley face instead of a tick mark.
I stop reading. The next day, everything changed. If I don’t turn the page, I can fill my head with the Hannah who still made lists, had plans and thought Crackerjack was the best horse ever.