by Karen White
My dress is rather lovely, although it was sewn by a local seamstress instead of coming from Paris like Papa had always promised. It’s all satin and lace with a huge bow that ties in the back, and it makes me look like a child. But I am no longer a child, no matter how Papa regards me. Being in love has made me a woman and I know there is no turning back now.
Lillian stopped reading, and Helen didn’t say anything at first, unwilling to break the spell. Her head was filled with images of the ball, of men in black tuxes and Lillian all in white. And white and pink flowers overshadowed by glorious purple gladiolus. “Who was Freddie?”
“Josie’s brother. He worked in the stables here for a time. Annabelle practically grew up with him and Josie.” Lillian took a sip of her water. “It’s funny how I can barely remember yesterday, but I recall every single thing about that evening. I remember the feel of Charlie’s tux under my cheek and the way Papa’s cologne smelled. I remember being incredibly happy, even though Annabelle wasn’t there. It was . . . magical.”
“Are there any photographs?”
“Just one. We had a newspaper photographer there, of course, so that my picture would appear in the society pages. He gave me one of the photographs they didn’t use and I put it in the scrapbook. It’s of Charlie and me, at the dance. He was such a good dancer! My papa had hired an orchestra of local musicians and they played everything I asked them to. And Josie was there to sing—she had the voice of an angel—and even though I wasn’t allowed to talk to her socially, she sang all of my favorites. There were other boys there at the dance, but I don’t remember a single one. I just remember dancing with Charlie for most of the night. Dancing with him was magical. It made me feel breathless; he made me feel like I’d found a little piece of extraordinary.”
Helen smiled, an ache in her heart. “So you knew from early on that you wanted to marry Grandpa Charlie?”
Lillian didn’t answer right away, and Helen listened closely, almost hearing her grandmother searching for the right words.
“Do we ever know what we really want? It was so long ago and I was so young; I believe that what I wanted and what I felt about things changed almost daily.”
Helen listened to the rustle of paper, hoping it meant that her grandmother would continue reading. Instead, Malily said, “I’m suddenly very tired. I think I’m going to try to take a little nap before lunch. Could you please go tell Odella to come get me in an hour?”
Helen tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Sure. We can read more later when you’re rested.” She stood and took her grandmother’s hand, surprised that it no longer felt like the smooth debutante’s hand of her imagination, then leaned over to kiss the soft cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
She’d made it to the door before she remembered the question that had been lurking in her mind as she’d listened to her grandmother’s story. “What charms did you add to the necklace?”
Lillian’s voice sounded tired, but Helen heard the lightness there, too. “I added three. I was never one who accepted limitations.” Helen imagined her grandmother smiling, recalling the girl she’d once been. “I added a woman’s shoe, because I’d felt like Cinderella at my debutante ball, and a lily.”
“And the third?”
“A heart.”
“For Grandpa Charlie?”
Her grandmother paused just for a moment. “For my first love.”
Helen smiled. “Have a good rest.” She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, nearly tripping over Mardi, who’d been lying across the doorway, waiting for her. She hummed a waltz to herself, imagining she wore lace and satin, with high-heeled dancing shoes, and she’d almost reached the stairway before it occurred to her that her grandmother hadn’t really answered her question.
I found the covered ring behind the stables, with Lucy and Sara already waiting for me. They wore brand-new riding gear, complete with riding crops, clean breeches, and shiny new paddock boots. Braided pigtails with bows on the ends poked out underneath black velvet riding hats.
As I approached, I could see their faces more clearly. Sara’s eyes were wide and apprehensive, and her bottom lip was red from being squeezed between her teeth. The look was familiar to me, as it filled the beginner classes at most of the horse shows I attended. My grandfather told me I had not once shown fear regardless of how big the horse, but it was common to see a tiny girl literally shaking in her boots the first time she was made to stand next to a horse and contemplate mounting it.
Lucy, however, was different. Her eyes were also wide with apprehension, but a certain light in her eyes and the way she stood showed more anticipation than anything. She looked to me like a girl bent on proving a point—yet another look I’d been overly familiar with.
For a moment, I stood watching and allowed myself to feel a small tremor of excitement, although I wasn’t sure if it was for the girls or for myself. A woman I hadn’t noticed before pushed away from the side rail and approached, her hand extended toward me.
“I’m Emily Kent, the girls’ nanny. You must be Earlene Smith, the horsewoman extraordinaire.”
The woman was very young, very pretty, and very blond with a wide, open smile and warm manner. I couldn’t help but smile back as I shook her hand. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I am here to give Lucy and Sara a riding lesson.”
Sara ran over to Emily and wrapped her arms around one of her legs. “We’re going to be e-ques-tree-ans,” she shouted, hopping up and down.
Emily reached down and scooped up the little girl, mindless of the dirt on her pants from Sara’s boots. “That’s right. Tell Miss Earlene that we’ve been reading about the different types of riding costumes, and the different kinds of horses and saddles.”
Sara nodded exuberantly. “We went to the library and got lots of books. Then Miss Emily took us shopping and we bought all these new riding clothes.”
“I can see that,” I said, unable to resist tugging on one of her pigtails. “There’s only one thing missing, though,” I said, looking pointedly at the otherwise empty ring.
Emily set Sara on her feet again. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?” She grinned. “Tucker’s bringing the ponies up from the stable—he’ll be here in just a minute. A friend of his is allowing him to borrow two of their school ponies until Tucker can determine if the girls even like riding. And if they seem to want to continue, he’ll take them shopping for their own ponies.”
Lucy, who’d remained silently watching us the whole time, walked slowly up to us and turned her dark eyes up to me. “I’m going to be a very good rider.”
I met her solemn gaze, recognizing the courage it had taken for this small, serious girl to tell me that, as well as something that reminded me of a younger version of myself. “And that’s the attitude you’ll need if you want to be. When I competed, there wasn’t a single competitor out there who thought they weren’t any good. Those with doubts had already dropped out.”
She nodded her head, satisfied with my answer.
“Do you still ride competitively?”
Emily’s question caught me by surprise and it took me a moment to answer. “No. I had an accident, so I don’t ride anymore.”
She nodded again, her lips pursed in thought. “I’m not trying to offend you, but I noticed you limping—I’m assuming from the accident.”
Sara saved me from answering. “She got really big boo-boos on her knee and that’s why she walks funny.”
“Sara!” Both Lucy and Emily spoke together in the same admonishing tone.
“It’s all right,” I said. “She’s right. I do walk funny and it is because of my scars.” I was beginning to find it easier the more I talked about it. As long as the questions didn’t go any further.
“Are you still doing physical therapy?”
I looked at Emily’s innocent expression and wondered if George had found a way to contact her so that she could harass me in his absence. “I did at first, but I didn’t seem to be getti
ng anywhere so I just . . . stopped.” I didn’t see the need to explain that I’d also stopped doing everything else at the same time so it made it easier to no longer notice that I couldn’t walk without a limp.
“I’m not trying to be nosy. It’s just that I’m going to school at night to become a physical therapist, so I was curious about your type of injury and what sort of treatment you were given.”
I was about to ask her if she knew George Baker, but was thankfully interrupted by the appearance of Tucker leading two very small ponies, one even smaller and plumper than the first.
Tucker stopped in front of the girls, a pony on either side of him. “I tried to gift-wrap them, but Oreo here didn’t want to get in the box.” He sent them a shy smile.
“Silly Daddy,” Sara said as she moved to stand in front of Tucker, keeping a distance between her and the animals. “Which one’s Oreo?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “It’s the black-and-white spotted one, stupid. Who would name a white pony Oreo?”
Emily glanced at Tucker before speaking to Lucy. “Lucy, you know you’re not supposed to call your sister names. Please apologize.”
After a frown and a heavy sigh, Lucy apologized, her voice even managing to sound sincere.
“I want Oreo,” Sara announced.
“That’s a good thing,” Tucker said. “Because that’s the one I thought would be perfect for you.”
I stepped forward. “Which one of you would like to go first?”
Sara pointed to her sister. “Lucy.”
I looked at Lucy, and when she nodded, I took the reins of the larger pony from Tucker and led him to the mounting block. Small, slow, and placid, he was the perfect horse for a first timer. It was also the perfect horse for me. I patted his neck before tightening his girth and checking the bridle. My fingers ran the irons down the leathers in motions I didn’t even have to think about—movements that were as much a part of me as breathing.
I turned to Lucy. “You ready?”
She nodded and approached the mounting block.
“Have you ever ridden before?”
Lucy glanced over at her father for a moment as if seeking his approval. “A few times, with Malily—until Mama found out and told us to stop. She didn’t think it was . . . safe or something. Sara was too little, so it was just me. Malily doesn’t ride anymore, but she told me what to do and we stayed inside the ring the whole time. But we didn’t use saddles or anything.”
“Oh, so you’ve ridden bareback. That’s a really great way to get a feel for a horse’s different gaits. We’ll be doing it a bit, too—especially at first. Right now I just want to get you comfortable on your mount and with your saddle. Do you need help getting on or do you think you can do it yourself?”
Tucker gave Oreo’s reins to Emily to hold and moved next to Lucy. “I can lift you on the first time if you’d like.”
For a moment, I thought Lucy would say yes. But then she looked back at the pony and I watched as she set her jaw. “No. I want to do it myself.”
I showed her where to put her hands on the pommel and then held the reins while I watched her slip her left boot into the stirrup and hoist herself into the saddle. The pony took a step to the side and for a moment it looked as if she might lose her balance and fall back to the mounting block. Tucker made a move to step forward but I held him back with my hand.
Biting her lip, Lucy held on to the pommel and slid her right leg over the pony so that she was sitting astride.
“Great job,” I said, patting the pony’s flank and then handing the reins to Tucker so I could finish adjusting the stirrups for Lucy. “How does it feel?”
Her smile made me want to look away, reminding me too much of what it felt like to sit astride a horse. “Like I’m twelve feet tall.” She smiled even brighter. “Like I have four legs instead of two.” Her eyes closed, her expression dreamlike. “And I can run faster and jump higher than anybody.”
Something seemed to tighten around my heart. Yes. I know.
Lucy leaned down and gave a tentative pat on the pony’s neck. “What’s his name?”
Tucker rubbed the pony’s nose. “You know, I forgot to ask my friend. But I don’t think it would hurt if you wanted to call him something different for now, if you’d like.”
Lucy nodded, her face solemn again. She turned to me. “Do you remember the name of your first pony?”
“Oh, yes. Her full name was Elizabeth Bennett but I called her Benny for short.” I glanced over at Tucker, who was shaking his head and trying to hide a smile. “I had a babysitter at the time who was obsessed with Jane Austen and her books and she helped me name her.”
Lucy looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’d like to call my pony Benny for now.”
Tucker gave Lucy a tentative pat on her leg before removing his hand. “Then that’s what he’ll be. Just don’t let him know that he’s named after a girl.”
I put the reins in Lucy’s hands. “Keep your thumbs up and your hands low and steady. I’m going to have your father lead you around the ring while I get Sara onto her pony.”
For the first time since meeting her, I saw a rebellious look cross her face. “I don’t need Daddy to hold on. I can do it myself.”
I placed my hands over hers. “I know that, but it’s also important that we start slowly. I want Benny to get used to you and you to get used to Benny. He seems gentle and sweet, but I’d feel better knowing that your father is close by just in case. I promise you’ll be riding by yourself before you know it.”
“But I want to go fast.” She bit her bottom lip again, as if punishing herself for having spoken out loud.
I know, I wanted to say, recalling the solid feel of saddle and horse beneath me, the power and joy of racing the wind, the temporary illusion of invincibility.
Before I could respond, Tucker turned to her. “Miss Earlene is right. You always need to learn to walk before you run.” He wiped dust from Lucy’s boot. “Would you rather Miss Earlene walked you around first instead of me?”
I think we both held our breath as we waited for her answer.
Lucy focused on her hands in her brand-new riding gloves. She shook her head. “No, Daddy. I want you to.”
I saw the relief on Tucker’s face before facing Sara, who had moved so far back that she was now pressed against the fence, as far away from the ponies as possible.
“Are you ready, Sara?”
Avoiding looking at anybody, she vigorously shook her head, her pigtails flying.
Slowly, I approached her and knelt in the dust, oblivious to my pants or my knee. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “It’s okay to be a little scared the first time. Most people are.” I didn’t tell her that I’d been scared, too, because I sensed that she’d know I was lying.
Then I remembered the second and last time my grandmother had to tell me to get back in the saddle—an incident that I’d nearly forgotten if only because I’d barely listened to her at the time. I was about eleven or twelve years old, unbeatable, it seemed, in my quest to be the best. I’d long since grown used to relegating my quiet grandmother to the background, a background she seemed to crave or at least had grown used to. So I’d been surprised that after I’d taken a fall and sprained my wrist, she told me to get back on,just as she’d told me the time I fell off my first pony, Benny. That I could do it despite my grandfather’s doubts and insistence that I withdraw. I’d won first place in that competition, and the trophy was somewhere in the attic of my grandparents’ Savannah house.
I looked Sara in the eye and repeated from memory,“The only way to get beyond something difficult is to put it behind you.” I thought for a moment, trying to phrase it in words she might understand better. “It’s like eating your vegetables so you can have dessert. The sooner you finish the broccoli, the sooner you get to eat your ice cream.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “But I like broccoli.”
Tucker coughed and Emily looked away, hi
ding her smile.
“Then imagine that you didn’t. What’s the fastest way to get that ice cream?”
“To eat my broccoli.”
“That’s right.” I squeezed her hands. “Sara, do you really want to ride Oreo today?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“And what’s the best way to do that?”
She looked up at me and then over at the pony. “Get up in the saddle?”
“Right. And once you’re up there, how do you think you’ll feel?”
Sara thought for a moment. “Like I’m riding a horse.”
“Exactly. And you do know that your daddy, Emily, and I won’t let you get hurt, right?”
Her wide eyes swiveled back from the pony to regard me. “But you got hurt.”
I remained where I was without blinking, ignoring the pain in my knee from kneeling so long. “But that was my fault, not the horse’s. He did everything right. I was the one who lost my concentration, even though it was only for one second. My horse depended on me to tell him what to do, and I failed him and myself because of that mistake. But I’m here to teach you how not to let that happen. So, see—you’re already one step ahead of me.”
“But what if I fall off?”
I leaned forward, recalling the rest of what my grandmother had told me. “Then you get back in the saddle before you forget the reason you got up on a horse in the first place.”
I stood, almost groaning with relief when I straightened my knee. I held out my hand and she took it. “So are you ready?”
Sara gave a firm nod and allowed me to lead her to the mounting block, where Emily had already moved Oreo into position. I put my hands on her narrow hips. “Oreo’s a bit on the plump side, so you’re not going to have any trouble staying on her. I’m going to lift you into the saddle, all right? Otherwise, you might hurt her feelings when you can’t fit your right leg over her back because she’s been enjoying the grass a little too much.”
