Chapter Fourteen

As Charlotte turned onto the road leading to the farm, she mentally went over her grocery checklist. She was pretty sure she’d gotten everything, but at the same time no matter how careful she was, it seemed she always forgot something.

Then, as she made the turn into the driveway, she realized what it was.

Christopher had specifically asked her to get a new kind of cereal he’d seen on television. He’d been asking for the past three weeks and she kept forgetting.

Now she’d forgotten again.

She sighed, guilt eating at her yet again. She would just have to explain to him that sometimes older people forget things. Trouble was, when it came to the things Christopher wanted and needed, she felt as if she were failing him.

She still hadn’t patched his pants.

As she turned into the yard, more guilt dogging her, she saw an old flatbed farm truck parked in front of the house, hood up, Bob and Pete peering into the depths of the engine.

Dana stood to one side, biting her lip. Christopher sat on the ground, staring sightlessly ahead.

What was going on?

Charlotte got out of the car and walked toward the gathering. “What’s happening? And what is this truck doing here?” she asked.

“Nothing, it seems.” Bob pulled away from the vehicle, wiping the grease on his hands with his handkerchief. “This truck is toast.”

“How did it get here?” Charlotte looked past Pete, who was still bent over the engine, to Dana, who hovered beside him, looking stricken.

“Christopher started it up.” Pete pulled away and slammed the hood shut. The sound reverberated through the quiet of the yard. “But it’s wrecked.”

“How did that happen?”

Bob glanced at Dana, who was now looking down at her dusty running shoes. A smear of grease marred her white jeans, and her shirt was liberally coated with dust.

What had she been doing?

“I … uh … put the wrong gas in the truck.”

Charlotte frowned, still not sure why the old truck was running in the first place, but no one seemed to be cluing her in.

She looked at Christopher. “Why did you want to get this truck going? It’s been parked for years.”

“And now it’s going to be parked forever,” Pete added.

“I wanted something for a float,” Christopher blurted out, jumping to his feet. “And I couldn’t use anything else. And no one wanted to help me except Aunt Dana. And I found the truck, and I started it up. And Aunt Dana said she would put gas in it, but I didn’t watch her because I had to check the horses. I didn’t want Uncle Pete to get mad at me if they got out again because I forgot to close the gate. And I forgot to tell Aunt Dana which gas tank to use. And then she put the wrong gas in, and I didn’t know it was a diesel truck.” Christopher’s voice rose with every and. “And now everyone is mad, and I don’t have a truck or anything to put my float on.”

Christopher dashed a hand over his eyes and then spun around and ran across the yard toward the barn, Toby on his heels.

“What’s gotten into him?” Pete grumbled.

A moment of silence followed Pete’s question, and then Dana spoke up.

“I think he feels like no one cares about his projects,” Dana said quietly. “Maybe he’s feeling a little ignored.”

Pete gave a laugh. “Of course we care about him. I got mad at him because he should have secured the gates after the two of you checked the horses.”

“I should have secured the gates,” Dana said quietly. “It was my fault, and you should have gotten angry with me that the horses got out.” She pushed her hair away from her face with a sigh. “I think he’s just feeling like a youngest child right now. Ignored and unappreciated.”

Another stone of guilt dropped onto Charlotte’s shoulders. She should have seen this coming. She too had expected a lot of Christopher. “I know I’ve been at fault too,” she said quietly. “I’ve asked him to take on some of Emily’s chores because I was so busy trying to help Hannah.”

Bob sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking in the direction Christopher had gone. “He asked me to help him with a float for the Fourth of July parade, and I said I didn’t have time. Then he asked if he could use the farm truck or the hay wagon, and I said he couldn’t.” Bob glanced at Charlotte and gave her a wry smile. “I feel kind of bad. Especially after hearing Frank talk about regrets. I guess I don’t want to be talking the same way someday.”

“I’m sure he would love it if you could help him,” Charlotte said. “Maybe I should help too.”

“I suppose I can spare some time,” Pete offered.

“You’ve got to work on the haybine,” Bob said.

“It’s almost done.”

“Well, when it’s completely done then you can help,” Bob said. Then he walked across the yard toward the barn.

“Now I’m starting to understand how Christopher feels,” Pete said. But he was grinning.

Charlotte had to smile. “I’m sure there have been times when you’ve felt the same way.”

“Yeah.” Pete pushed his hat back on his head and blew out his breath. “I just feel bad that I didn’t recognize how he was feeling. I shouldn’t have yelled at him about the horses.”

“And I shouldn’t have expected him to cover for Emily, Sam, and me while I was gone,” Charlotte added. She glanced at Dana. “At least you’ve been helping him.”

Dana shrugged. “I haven’t done much. Seems everything I’ve tried to do to help around here has backfired.” Then she brightened. “But if we can use the hay wagon, then we can do just what Christopher wanted to do all along.” She tapped Pete on the shoulder. “And I’ve got just the job for you, mister.”

“I knew I should be afraid of that look in your eye,” Pete said with a sigh. “For now, you can help me haul this truck back to the barn.”

Charlotte watched them walk off together toward the tractor and smiled. Another crisis averted. But on the heels of that came thoughts of Hannah. She wished she could feel better about Hannah taking on the bulk of Frank’s care.

She also wished Hannah would open up to her; she was fairly sure her dear friend was holding something back.

“ARE WE GETTING to the end of the trail?” Ashley grumbled. “Riding this horse is like sitting on a barrel.”

Emily glanced over her shoulder at her friend, leaning over her saddle. The sun, broken by the leaves overhead, danced over her red hair and shone off her red face. “At least it’s cooler riding than it would be playing volleyball on the beach.”

Ashley kicked her horse and came alongside Emily, grunting with each thud of her horse’s hooves. “Remind me again why this was a better idea.”

“Nicole. Mike. They both signed up for the volleyball tournament after we did.”

Ashley sighed. “You can’t avoid both of them forever.”

“I know. I just don’t trust Nicole and I don’t want her to see me with Mike.”

“I don’t think Mike’s a stalker, you know.”

Emily sighed as she nudged her horse to step over a large log. “I know. But I think Nicole might be. I wish I could figure her out.”

“What’s to figure out?” Ashley released a snort that made Emily’s horse jump to the side. Emily settled it down, and they fell back into a steady, plodding rhythm that could have put Emily to sleep if she’d been on one of her own horses.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s jealous,” Ashley said. “She’s always been jealous of you.”

“Jealous?” Emily frowned. “Of what?”

Ashley gave Emily a wry look. “C’mon. You’re dating Troy, and on top of that you snagged the attention of the cutest guy at camp.”

“He’s a friend.”

“I know, but the time you spent with him meant Nicole couldn’t make a move on him.”

“Well, she can make a move on him now.”

“He doesn’t want her to.”

Emily felt confused. “I thought camp was about making your relationship with Jesus better. Not about flirting and all that.”

“It happens, and with Nicole it seems to happen often.”

“It’s just frustrating,” Emily said. “I feel like all the good stuff I’m learning about how to be a better person, how to let Jesus make me a better person, is worn away each time I see Nicole. And she’s the daughter of the minister. You’d think she’d be the best example of how to be a good Christian.”

“I sometimes think because she’s the minister’s daughter she figures she’s got the most to prove—that she’s cool after all and not a goody-goody.”

Emily laughed. “Who uses those words anymore?”

“I do,” Ashley said with a groan. “When my behind is so sore I can’t think of anything else to say.”

“Well, your poor behind is about to get a break. I see the end of the trail.”

They broke out into the open, and the horses ahead of them started to trot.

“Oh, great!” Ashley said. “As if I don’t hurt enough.”

“Keep pressure on the reins if you don’t want to trot,” Emily said.

But Ashley either didn’t care or couldn’t do what Emily suggested, and her horse started trotting, making her hair bounce with each step.

Emily held her horse back. Uncle Pete had always said it was important to make your horse do what you wanted, not what it wanted. A few horses passed her, their riders hanging onto the pommel of the saddle, reins flopping.

By the time Emily got to the paddock, most of the other riders were dismounting, groaning and complaining.

Emily didn’t know what their problem was. She’d had fun.

“Tie up your horses,” Adam, their leader, instructed them as he dismounted from his horse. “All saddles are to be brought here to the barn, and don’t forget to brush your horses when you’re done.”

Emily dismounted, loosened the cinch, and pulled the saddle and blanket off, grunting from the weight. The smell of hot horse assailed her nostrils, but it was a good smell. It reminded her of home.

For a moment, she missed the farm. Just a little.

She set the saddle on the ground and pulled the cinch up and hooked it over the horn so it wouldn’t flop while she walked.

“So, have fun?”

Emily bit her lip, closed her eyes, and sent up a quick prayer for patience. Then she turned to Nicole.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Missed you at the tournament,” Nicole said. “I think Mike missed you too.”

Emily picked up the saddle and trudged over to the tack shed, preferring to ignore Nicole.

Emily handed Adam the saddle, took a curry brush from the tack shed, and returned to her horse, still tied to the hitching post. Nicole was standing next to it, stroking its nose.

Emily sighed. “What do you want, Nicole?”

Nicole just shrugged and then pulled something out of her pocket, giving Emily just a glimpse of her cell phone before she put it back in her pocket. “The reception here is just great. I’ve been able to text all week. Keep the people back home up to date on what’s been happening here.”

Emily’s heart jumped into her throat. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Nicole just shrugged. “Shall I say hi to Troy for you? Give him your love?”

With a feeling of dread, Emily realized exactly what Nicole meant.

“You wouldn’t,” she said.

Nicole shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Then with a waggle of her fingers, she strutted away, looking as if she were on top of the world.

Emily brushed off her horse, her mind going a mile a minute. What if Nicole actually called Troy? What would she tell him? What kind of spin would she put on what she saw?

Whatever she wants, Emily realized.

She knew one thing. She had to contact Troy herself before Nicole did.

She quickly finished brushing her horse and led it into the corral.

“So that’s done,” Ashley said, walking stiff-legged toward her friend. “What shall we do until suppertime?”

Emily glanced at Ashley. “I gotta run.”

“But …”

Emily took off for the cabin. She burst through the door and opened her locker. She dug out the money Mrs. Carter had given her and then ran to the telephone.

She stopped in her tracks. The line was fifteen people long. Soon the bell would ring for suppertime, and the phone would be off limits until tomorrow at noon.

And that might be too late.