Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail Page 9

  “I sure do miss you, Grandma. Dad won’t let me get a dog. He keeps telling me I’m too young to do stuff and I’ve been thinking about it…how come you never said that to me…not once. You always told me I could do anything and be anything, and all I had to do was follow my heart. Although I do remember the time I asked for a puppy and you told me to go ask Dad, and of course he said I was too little.”

  Devon poked his head into the room and saw her talking to the photo of her grandma. He wasn’t sure if he should go or stay. Milla glanced over her shoulder at him and forced a smile. He stood there in silence as she walked over to the dresser and put the photo back. She was really hurting, he thought, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He should take her to a movie or play a game, but he had too much on his mind. He backed out of the room and walked away.

  Devon began phoning the few people he thought could point him in the right direction. He understood horse care inside and out, but childcare…well, that was a whole different ballgame. He spoke with the wife of one of his staff members and she suggested a few places. It was a tedious process gathering the information. Slowly he discovered that most facilities charged a lot of money and had hours of operation that didn’t fit his schedule. Now what? he thought. I can’t take her to work with me. Maybe there was someone who worked from home and had kids Milla’s age. But where would he find someone like that, if they even existed? He made one more phone call to the college student, Jenny, who was his last resort, but her parents said she was out of town. Great—now I’m really stuck, he thought, hanging up the phone.

  “I’m going for my bike ride, Dad,” Milla said as she slipped out the back door. She loved riding her bike through the neighborhood, pretending she was on a galloping horse. Each day she would imagine her bike was a different horse and she would make up names for them. Sometimes she would fantasize that a barking dog was a mountain lion and rode her bike faster to escape. As she pedaled down the street she noticed a younger kid named Fern dribbling a basketball. She knew the girl’s brother and he was creep, but she waved to Fern and stopped her bike and watched the girl make a few attempts to put the basketball into the net.

  “Aww, almost,” said Milla. “Nice try, though.”

  “Thanks,” Fern replied, as she ran after the ball that had rolled into a neighbor’s yard. She quickly disappeared under a truck, crawling on her belly after the ball. “Are you going to the fireworks next week?”

  “Fireworks?” Milla asked. “What fireworks?”

  “Fourth of July fireworks in Reno,” said Fern. “Aren’t you going?”

  “I didn’t even know it was a holiday next week. I’ll have to ask my dad.”

  Fern walked over to Milla, who was straddling her bike. “Why don’t you come with us?” Suddenly, the front door opened and Fern’s brother, Foot, came out. He was bigger than everyone in her class. He had huge feet and everyone always called him Big Foot or just Foot for short. Milla had forgotten his real name.

  “Hey, raccoon face,” he sneered. “What are you doing in my yard? Did anyone give you permission?” he taunted.

  Milla quickly got back on her bike and as she tried to ride off, her shoelace caught in the chain and she and her bike fell over. Wham! went the bike, hitting the concrete pavement. “Ow!” she cried, trying to untangle her shoelace from the chain. Her knee was bleeding and she was fighting back tears.

  “Ha ha,” laughed Foot. “Maybe you should try a tricycle. I hear they come in raccoon size.”

  “Stop it!” Fern yelled as she ran to help. Milla untangled her shoelace and got up. Her hands were full of grease and there was blood on her knee.

  “Man, you wouldn’t win any beauty contests,” Foot laughed as he jumped off the porch and grabbed the basketball from Fern.

  “Hey, I was playing with that. Give it back!” she yelled. Milla got on her bike and started to ride away.

  “Come back, raccoon face. We can shoot some hoops. I’ll give you some free shots. Aw, come back…I was only teasing.”

  Milla rode a few blocks before she let herself cry. She was angry and felt completely humiliated. How could a boy like that have such a nice sister? Kids like that always had big mouths and everybody laughed at their jokes. He’s mean and he’s always staying after school for detention. What a jerk, thought Milla. Geez, I hope he’s not in my class again next year. I’ve been puttin’ up with him since second grade. She reached her own driveway, threw her bike down, and raced into the house.

  “You’re back already?” her dad asked.

  She stood there for a minute with her lips trembling. She wanted him to notice how humiliated she was and how hurt she felt and to say something about her bloody knee. She wanted him to take her in his arms and make it all better…maybe even wash her wound and bandage it. But he just kept his head down, paying some bills, and never even looked her way.

  “Fine!” she shouted, racing down the hall into the bathroom and slamming the door. Bang!

  Devon put down his pen and scratched his head. Drama, he thought, I don’t do drama.

  Chapter 23

  Jodi Miller worked as a nurse in the newborns section of a hospital in South Jersey. The pay was good, although the job required long twelve-hour shifts a few days each week. She loved her job and had worked there since graduating college. Her children, Shannon and Brian, kept her busy when she wasn’t on duty. Today her husband, John, would be handling dinner and bedtime routine as she wouldn’t finish working until midnight. She and another nurse, Donna, were on their break and they chatted about their jobs, children, and summer schedules.

  “Did you hear about the quilts that our department will be getting soon?” Donna asked as they sat on a bench looking at some pigeons. The birds were eagerly eating French fries and bits of food left by cafeteria visitors. Jodi shook her head no and sipped some coffee.

  “Some organization has been making special preemie quilts for children with life-threatening illnesses and they’re donating them to our Neonatal Intensive Care Unit,” Donna explained.

  “How sweet,” Jodi replied, “but how exactly will we use quilts? It’s not like we can put them inside the incubators.”

  “They sent photos of the quilts resting on the outside of the incubators. They say it makes the parents feel comforted, giving their babies a homey touch.” Newborns stayed in the NICU for long periods, and day after day moms and dads would sit with their infants, hoping to take them home when they were strong enough.

  “Aw, it sounds like a wonderful idea,” Jodi said. “It’s funny that you mention it—my mom has just started to teach Shannon how to quilt. Can anyone make them?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure but there’s a pamphlet about the organization on my desk,” said Donna.

  “Terrific, maybe I can put my mom and Shannon in touch with them. It sounds like a great cause.” She thought of how excited her daughter had been the first time she had showed her the patchwork. It was her mom’s turn to watch the kids and quilting was probably on the agenda.

  “Goodbye, Grandmom,” Shannon said, as she squeezed her grandmom and was pulled into a big hug. “Mm-umph. I love coming here! Especially now that you’re teaching me how to sew stuff.”

  “I’ll see you again soon, honey. I’m sending you home with your quilt and some materials so you can continue working. See, I made you a little sewing tote.” She handed Shannon a soft muslin bag.

  “Brian, here’s your backpack, and don’t forget the lion you made today.” She gave Brian a ball of fluffy yarn with pipe cleaner legs and eyes made out of beads. Brian hugged his grandmom and ran to his father, who was waiting by the door.

  “Thanks, Mom,” said John. “The kids like coming here even better than swimmers’ camp.” They all climbed into the truck and tooted the horn as Grandmom stood at the door waving. As they drove away, a blast came over the fire radio and the children waited to see if they would dash toward the firehouse. They listened as the dispatcher said, “Station 15 to all Volunteer F
ireman, please respond to a grassfire on the corner of Trout Rd. and Route 9.” Their dad glanced at his fire gear neatly stacked beside him and smiled, “We’ll skip this one since Mommy’s working. I know they’ll have enough volunteers to put it out.”

  Shannon and Brian nodded calmly, as they knew the routine. There would always be another alarm. Their dad wasn’t able to fight every fire and sometimes when there was a call, he couldn’t go if he was watching them. Those were the times he would pace around the house and listen to the other men on the fire radio giving orders to the volunteers on the scene. That was the life of a kid who had a volunteer fireman for a dad. The family was accustomed to sitting down to dinner and watching him dash out the door without a bite, only to return home long after they were all asleep.

  The children were anxious to get out of the car and counted the blocks as they drove the short distance home. After a quick pit stop at the corner store, they arrived home and dumped their stuff on the kitchen table before racing out the back door. Shannon and Brian had a large play area that their father had built, with the tallest slide in the neighborhood and a sandbox you could park a car in. They would spend hours building roads with shovels and garden tools and making houses from leaves, twigs, and rocks. They imagined they were building a city, with Brian’s toy cars scattered throughout. Some were parked in driveways and some on bridges and highways. Brian was building a wall made of clothespins and Shannon was making a roof out of leaves for a twig-house. Just when they were in the middle of their construction and having fun, their dad called them for dinner. “Ah, rats,” said Brian, looking at his unfinished wall. They brushed themselves off and went inside.

  “Mom says you spoke to Carrie,” John said, spooning some macaroni onto her plate. “How’s she doing in her new place?”

  “Well, I guess she’s doing okay, Dad. We pretty much talked about what’s been going on here and stuff like that.”

  “She didn’t tell you about her home or anything about Nevada?”

  “I tried to get her to tell me, but she wanted to know all about the patchwork quilts I’m making with Grandmom. I asked a few times about Nevada but she kept wanting me to explain how I do the stitches.”

  “Well, I’m glad you guys finally connected.”

  “Yeah, me too.” She thought back to the conversation—they had spoken well over an hour and it seemed like old times.

  The air conditioner hummed and the dishwasher whirred as if keeping beat while the kids sang silly songs. Shannon knew if she hung around the kitchen she would be put to work wiping counters so she and Brian slipped quietly out the back door. Summer playtime after dinner was the best because it didn’t get dark until late and there was never any homework to spoil the fun. Shannon loved this glorious time, wandering around in her yard, going barefoot and not worrying about school. She was in the front of the house hunting for more materials for their city when she heard Brian crying out back. What now? she thought. Did he fall off the slide again? She hurried to see what all the fuss was about. Brian was shouting and as he ran to her side, she looked to where he was pointing…and was horrified. Their sandbox city was destroyed. All the roofs made of leaves were strewn about and the clothes-pinned walls were knocked down. Brian’s cars had been thrown to the opposite end of the sandbox. Shannon quickly looked around the yard but there was no one around. She hugged Brian and took him in to report the catastrophe to her father. He was sitting in a chair watching TV and raised his eyebrows as Shannon came in with his sobbing little boy. Her dad was used to Brian falling or having spats with his big sister so he waited to see what all the blubbering was about.

  “Dad,” said Shannon, “we have an emergency. Some trespassers have ruined our city.”

  “Sounds serious,” he said. “Should we call the police?” He was trying to hide his smile.

  “You have to come see the evidence,” said Shannon, pulling him up from his chair. Their dad played along, allowing them to lead him outside. He looked at the sandbox—the leaves and clothespins and rocks scattered around—and scratched his head. He threw up his hands and laughed. “You interrupted a Phillies ballgame for this?” he asked.

  “Look, this is really serious, Dad. Someone came and ruined our city while we were eating dinner!” Shannon exclaimed.

  “It’s a false alarm, dear,” he said. “This could be a dog or cat, or maybe even the wind.” He patted Brian on the head and then lifted him onto his shoulders. Brian squealed in joy as his dad galloped like a horse and they went back inside to watch the ballgame together.

  Shannon was angry because she knew this was neither pets nor the wind. She looked around the garage, back behind the shed and over along the other the side of the house. Then she walked out to the front sidewalk near the mailbox and looked up and down the street. It was getting dark and she knew she needed to get inside soon. She walked back to the sandbox and sat down on the grass beside it, remembering her conversation with Carrie the night before. She had told her about the tree incident and Carrie had assured her that it must have been Brian. Maybe it was, she agreed at the time, but now she wasn’t so sure. Who pulled my hair? she wondered. Who was sitting in my thinking spot? Who destroyed our sandbox city? She shivered. It was getting too dark and she didn’t like being out there all alone. As she was getting up she found something in the grass and held it up to get a better look. It was a bracelet made of woven embroidery thread, the kind her grandmother used on some of her crafts. How did this get here? she thought, slipping it into her pocket. She looked back at the sandbox one more time in disgust and was sure this was done deliberately. The kitchen light seemed brighter in the dusk and as she started to walk back to the house, something caught her eye. A large something was sitting on a branch in one of the trees in the woods that faced her back yard. Shannon felt the hairs go up on her neck as she knew someone or something was watching her. Snap! went a sound in the tree.

  “I’m outta here,” she cried, running as fast as she could, bounding up the steps into the house.

  Chapter 24

  Sam and Brenda sat in the office discussing the work that needed to be tackled around the B&B. Sam had explained the daily routine and the areas in which she desperately needed Brenda’s help. Together, they had made a list so they could focus on the tasks one by one, and the list kept growing. There was repair work, cleaning, and fresh coats of paint needed throughout the inn. Some things they could do on their own, while for others they would need to hire a repairman.

  The conversation drifted to Carrie, as Brenda wanted Sam’s advice about the child’s depression. Sam suggested meditation since it always helped her when she felt down. Brenda agreed, although she knew her daughter wasn’t convinced meditation was the answer for her. The child stuck to her room most of the time and only came out for meals or a quick training lesson with Flannel. Brenda hoped she would adjust to their new surroundings but so far Carrie wore a constant look of sadness. The phone call from Shannon had lifted her spirits, but only temporarily.

  “Maybe we can give her some of the small jobs just to keep her busy,” Brenda suggested, examining the list. The door opened and Kelly poked her head into the office to say hi. Sam introduced her to Brenda and the woman smiled warmly. Kelly handed Sam a pile of mail and glanced out the window. “Darn, it’s lookin’ like rain. I left all of my windows open and I don’t want any surprises when I get home. By the way, any signs of Max yet?”

  “No, and I am starting to worry about him,” Sam replied.

  Kelly grinned. “Oh, he’s just out cattin’ around. He definitely knows how to hunt, so you can bet he won’t go hungry.”

  “It’s not that,” said Sam. “I just worry about coyotes. He can hunt and carouse all he likes. I only wish he would come home at night.”

  “Sounds like some people I know,” said Kelly. The women laughed as they shared a few tales about late night adventures. The telephone rang, interrupting their laughter. Sam picked it up.

  “Hello, this is
Devon Spencer and I was wondering if I could speak with Mrs. Anderson if she’s not too busy.”

  “Hi, Devon, she’s sitting right next to me. Here she is.” Sam handed the phone to Brenda. The conversation was about their daughters and plans for childcare. Brenda explained that Carrie would be staying home while she helped out at the B&B, but soon she would be searching for a reliable sitter. Devon explained his situation and they promised to stay in touch. “Let me know if I can help in any way until you find someone,” Brenda said. “I’ll be here every day until I find a job.”

  “I might just take you up on that,” replied Devon before hanging up.

  “Sounds like he’s got his hands full,” Brenda said to Sam. “I had no idea what his job entailed. He manages a large staff and oversees almost 1,000 wild mustangs. Now the guy’s trying to find childcare and he’s not making much headway. Milla’s mom died when she was only four and his mother, who lived with them and basically ran the house and cared for Milla, passed away last August. She’s having a rough time this summer, poor thing.”

  “Aw, that’s sad,” said Sam. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Well, I wish I could help by watching her during the days, but to be honest, Carrie has been moping upstairs and I’m not sure they would be very good company. I told him to call me if he can’t find anyone.”

  Sam was going through some papers and was just about to toss the junk mail into the trash when she noticed a glossy flyer. “Take a look at this,” she said, handing it to Brenda.