When the Wind Blows

by John Saul

  “Alice, that’s not fair,” Joyce Crowley protested. “I’m sure Diana and Miss Edna are as sorry as anyone else about what happened. And the quarry’s not being fenced off doesn’t make what happened their fault!”

  Alice Sandler sighed heavily and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “It just seems to me that they’re every bit as responsible as Juan.”

  In the kitchen, Jay-Jay looked at her friends, her eyes glowing maliciously. “Besides,” she whispered, “maybe Juan didn’t kill her at all. Maybe Christie did!”

  The others stared at her, agog.

  “That’s dumb.” Jeff said.

  “It is not,” Jay-Jay shot back. “When me and Susan left, she stayed, didn’t she?”

  Susan nodded reluctantly. “But it was only a couple of minutes,” she said, her voice revealing her uncertainty.

  “It was ten minutes,” Jay-Jay insisted. “I had my watch on, and I looked,” she added smugly.

  “You did not,” Jeff countered. “You’re just trying to get Christie in trouble.”

  “How do you know? You weren’t there!”

  “It doesn’t matter. Everybody knows you’re a liar!”

  “You take that back, Jeff Crowley!” Jay-Jay shrieked.

  “I won’t! It’s true!”

  Joyce Crowley appeared at the door.

  “All right, what’s going on?”

  “Jeff called me a liar,” Jay-Jay shouted, her face red with anger.

  “Jeff!”

  “Well, she is. She said Christie drowned Kim!”

  “I did not,” Jay-Jay said sulkily. “I said she might have.”

  “Good Lord!” Joyce Crowley breathed. “What would make you say a thing like that?”

  Jay-Jay glanced at her friends, but Susan and Jeff were both avoiding her eyes. “I was just kidding,” she hedged. Then her face set stubbornly. “But she still might have.” She repeated her story to Jeff’s mother, but when she was done Joyce shook her head doubtfully.

  “Jay-Jay, why would Christie do something like that? Kim and Christie were friends.”

  “Maybe they had a fight,” Jay-Jay suggested.

  “And maybe you’re letting your imagination run away with you. Now, all of you, settle down.”

  “Can’t we go home?” Jeff begged.

  “In a few minutes,” Joyce promised. As she returned to the living room Matt looked at her questioningly.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Joyce said. She saw no point in repeating Jay-Jay’s story, since privately she agreed with her son that Jay-Jay was a liar. Minister’s children, she thought. What makes them such little stinkers? Aloud, she tried to pass the incident off. “I think they’re getting tired, and I am, too.”

  A few minutes later the group broke up, and as they drove home Joyce told Matt what had gone on in the kitchen.

  “Oh, Lord,” Matt sighed when Joyce had finished. “I hope Jay-Jay isn’t going to start spreading that tale around. A thing like that can make a child an outcast. Hasn’t Christie had enough trouble already?”

  “But everybody likes Christie,” Jeff said.

  “Everybody likes her a lot better than they like old Jay-Jay!”

  “I only hope it stays that way,” Joyce said softly. “But it’s such a small town.…”

  Diana lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the house. The day had exhausted her, but sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed restlessly in her bed, willing herself to relax.

  Finally she went downstairs, prowling the rooms like a restless cat. She had the feeling she was looking for something but had no idea what.

  She went over the day carefully.

  The blank spots were still there, and nothing she could do would fill in the blanks.

  And then, after Dan Gurley had left, Christie had once more disobeyed her.

  She’d told Christie to stay upstairs, but late in the afternoon, she’d gone upstairs. The nursery had been empty.

  She’d found Christie in the barn.

  The barn door was open, and when she’d stepped into its gloom, at first Diana thought it was empty, except for the horses.

  And then she heard Christie’s voice, coming from Hayburner’s stall.

  “Good boy,” the little girl’s voice was crooning. “Are you my good boy?”

  Diana moved slowly through the barn until she could see into the stall. Christie was standing next to the horse, her arms around his neck, nuzzling him.

  The horse stood still, his huge gray body looming over the tiny girl, his brown eyes placid. And then his head moved, and his eyes seemed to fix on Diana’s face.

  A strange sensation passed through Diana.

  It was as if the horse were challenging her.

  And then, as if to confirm the feeling, Hayburner suddenly whinnied and pawed at the ground.

  Christie looked up and saw Diana at the gate. As Diana watched, Christie seemed to shrink back against Hayburner, and the horse, too, backed a few steps farther into the stall.

  “What are you doing?” Diana asked. “You’re supposed to be in the nursery.”

  “I—I got lonely,” Christie explained.

  “Then why didn’t you come to me?”

  Christie’s eyes darted around the stall like those of a trapped animal. “You—you were mad at me.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “I wanted to be with Hayburner. He’s my friend.”

  “He’s not your friend,” Diana snapped. “He’s only a horse, and he doesn’t give a damn about you! If you want a friend, come to me.”

  Christie cowered away from Diana’s words, and suddenly, as if hearing herself for the first time, Diana realized how she must sound. Instantly she was sorry for what she’d said. “Christie? Oh, Christie, I didn’t mean that. Of course Hayburner’s your friend. But I am, too. If you’re lonely, you can always come to me.”

  Christie seemed to relax a little, and Diana reached out to touch her. Once again Christie huddled against the horse.

  “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you,” Diana whispered. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I love you.”

  A memory stirred in Christie. What had Diana told her a week ago, when her chick had died? “People always hurt the things they love.” And Diana had hit her that day, as if she’d done something wrong. But she hadn’t done anything wrong, except sneak out of the nursery, and Diana hadn’t known about that. Had she? Or had she spanked her that day because she loved her? It didn’t make sense, any of it. She waited, clinging to the horse, as Diana came closer to her, then picked her up.

  Was Diana going to hit her or kiss her? She didn’t know.

  Diana gathered Christie into her arms and lifted her off the floor. “Come on, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll take you into the house, and we’ll be together. Maybe I’ll start teaching you the piano. Would you like that?”

  Mutely Christie nodded her head, and Diana carried her out of the stall. But as she turned to close the gate Diana’s eyes focused once more on the horse.

  Christie belonged to her.

  And yet the horse seemed almost to be claiming Christie.

  Now, as she sat in the darkness of the house, and the wind began to blow, Diana remembered that moment. And she remembered a time when she was a little girl and a stray dog had wandered up to the back door. She had made friends with the dog and begged her mother to let her keep it.

  For a while the dog had been hers, sleeping in the nursery with her, romping in the yard with her, making up for all the friends she had never been allowed to have.

  And then one day the dog had been gone.

  Diana had never known what happened to the dog.

  Not until tonight, when, with the wind rattling the old house, and the memory of Hayburner’s eyes fixed on her own, it all came back to her.

  She was in the barn, playing with her dog. She heard her mother’s voice calling to her, but paid no attention to it. And then Edna was in the barn, glaring at her.
>
  As Diana looked on, Edna had gone after the dog with an axe, and, his brown eyes fixed pitiously on his little mistress, the dog had died.

  The memory crashed out of Diana’s subconscious and flooded her being with hatred. She turned from the window and walked through the house to the back door.

  She left the house and, with the wind buffeting her, started across the yard to the barn, where, so many years ago, her pet had died.…

  Christie woke up the next morning and, as she was beginning to do every morning, hesitated to open her eyes. What was going to happen today? Was she going to do something wrong and make Diana mad at her? Miss Edna would be mad at her anyway, but she was getting used to that. With Miss Edna, at least she knew where she stood. But what about Diana? Last night everything had been all right, after that moment in the barn when she thought Diana was going to hit her. But then Diana had seemed to change, and the rest of the day had been okay. They’d sat at the piano together, and Diana had helped her start learning the notes. Then, after supper, they’d played checkers.

  And last night, Christie was almost sure Diana hadn’t even locked the nursery door.

  She got out of bed and tried the door. It was unlocked.

  Did that mean it would be all right to get dressed and go downstairs?

  She listened for the sound of voices downstairs, but the house was silent. Then she went to the window and looked out. The sun was high in the sky, and she could hear the horses whinnying in their stalls.

  She decided to surprise Diana by feeding all the animals before breakfast.

  She pulled on her jeans and a shirt, slipped her feet into a pair of sneakers, then went down the back stairs as quietly as she could.

  Outside, she decided to feed the chickens first, saving the horses for last.

  The chickens flocked around her as she carried their feed into the coop, and began pecking madly as she poured the grain into the container. She changed their water, made sure the automatic valve was functioning properly, then started toward the barn.

  She pulled the barn door open, and the horses, their heads hanging over the gates to their stalls, turned to peer at her and snuffle appreciatively.

  All except Hayburner.

  Christie frowned and started toward his stall.

  “Hayburner?” she called softly. When there was no responding snort, she ran to the stall and pulled the gate open.

  On the ground, his mouth foaming and his great brown eyes rolling in misery, lay Hayburner.

  Christie froze, staring at the horse. He saw her and struggled to get to his feet but couldn’t. Instead he rolled over onto his back, his hooves flailing at the air.

  “Hayburner!” Christie screamed. “What’s wrong?” She moved into the stall and crouched by the horse, who seemed to calm down as she took his head and held it in her lap.

  “Hayburner?” she said once more, her voice suddenly tiny as she realized the horse was dying. “Hayburner? Please don’t die.” Her mind whirled, and she tried to think what could be wrong. Only one answer came to her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I only wanted to love you. Please don’t die. Please?”

  But it was as if the horse had been making himself live only until she got there. His eyes rolled once more, his great tongue emerged from his mouth to lick Christie’s hand, and then his breath rattled, and he gasped one last time and lay still.

  Holding his lifeless head in her lap, Christie began to cry.

  * * *

  When Diana found Christie, she was sitting in Hayburner’s stall, the dead horse’s head still cradled in her arms. The little girl looked up at Diana, her eyes, usually so filled with life, drained and empty.

  “He’s dead,” she whispered. “Aunt Diana, why is he dead?”

  Diana pulled her eyes from Christie and looked quickly at the horse. A memory stirred within her, then was gone before she could grasp it. But it had to do with the barn and a dead animal.

  An animal for whose death she was somehow responsible.

  “What did you do to him?” she asked now.

  Christie stared at her, her eves brimming with tears.

  “I didn’t do anything to him,” she said. “I was going to feed him, and I came out here, and he was sick. It was awful, Aunt Diana. He was lying here, and I could tell he was hurt. And I came in and tried to help him, but I couldn’t. And then he died.”

  She gave in to her grief and began sobbing, clutching the horse’s lifeless head to her chest, burying her face in its mane. Diana watched the scene for a moment, then reached down and pulled Christie to her feet.

  “I warned you,” she said softly. “Didn’t I warn you that you hurt the things you love?”

  As Christie shivered in the warmth of the morning, Diana held her close, loving her as she had never loved her before.

  13

  Joyce Crowley arrived at the Amber ranch in the middle of the morning, with Jeff sitting next to her on the hard seat of Matt’s pickup truck. As she jounced to a stop and jumped out of the cab, she reflected that a car—a real car—had been at the top of her list of things to buy once the mine was running again and Matt was steadily employed. But now the car would have to wait. Joyce, however, was used to putting things off, and she reflected that as the tourist industry grew in Amberton something for Matt was bound to turn up. Meanwhile she made-do. After all, even the Ambers were making-do with their ancient Cadillac.

  Ignoring the front door, Joyce and Jeff started around to the back of the house, then saw Diana coming out of the barn.

  “Hi!” she called. Diana looked up, hesitated, then waved. But as she approached them Joyce could see in her face that something was wrong.

  “It’s Hayburner,” Diana explained. “Christie’s horse. He died this morning.”

  “Oh, no,” Joyce groaned. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure,” Diana said pensively. “Christie found him in his stall this morning. He was still alive, but he couldn’t get up. He died while she was trying to help him.”

  “How horrible for her,” Joyce said. “Where is she? Is she all right?”

  “She’s in the house.” Diana glanced uncertainly at Jeff. “I—I’m not sure she wants to see anyone. She’s terribly upset.” She started toward the house, with Joyce and Jeff walking with her. “I’ve got to call the vet and have him come out here to see what happened. And take Hayburner away,” she added.

  They went into the kitchen and found Edna sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. She frowned when she saw the two Crowleys but spoke to neither of them. Instead she directed her attention to Diana. “What’s wrong with that child now?” she asked. “She came through here crying about half an hour ago and wouldn’t say a word.”

  “It’s Hayburner,” Diana explained. “He’s dead.”

  Edna set her cup down and stood up. Her eyes suddenly fixed on Jeff. “Really, I can’t understand why anyone would want children.” She turned and left the room, still not having acknowledged Joyce’s presence. An uncomfortable silence fell over the kitchen as Diana tried to think of what to say. It was Jeff who finally spoke.

  “Can I go up to Christie’s room?” he asked. Diana, caught off guard by the question, hesitated. She didn’t want anyone going up to the nursery—not anyone but herself. And yet how could she say no? She thought quickly. “Why don’t I bring her down?” she said lamely. “That might be better.”

  “Oh, let him go up,” Joyce urged. “If it’s a mess, don’t worry—his room’s always a mess. Besides, I need to talk to you about something.”

  Still Diana hesitated but could think of no rational reason for refusing. It was just a feeling, and she put it aside. “Use the back stairs,” she said, pointing to the pantry. “It’s on the third floor.” As Jeff left the kitchen Diana poured coffee for herself and Joyce.

  “It’s nothing terribly serious,” Joyce said as she took the cup Diana offered her. “At least, it isn’t yet. But a couple of things happened at the Sandlers’ last nigh
t that I think you ought to know about.”

  Diana sat down and stirred some sugar into her coffee. “At the Sandlers’?” she repeated.

  Choosing her words carefully, Joyce began explaining everything that had been said the night before.

  Jeff paused on the second-floor landing and looked down the wide hall, which seemed to have rooms opening off either side of it. Why wasn’t Christie’s room on this floor? It seemed to him that there ought to be space. He decided that maybe Christie had asked to be all the way upstairs.

  He paused again in the gloom of the attic and decided it was creepy. “Christie?” he called. He listened and thought he could hear a snuffling sound coming from one of the little rooms tucked under the eaves. He went to the door and knocked. “Christie? It’s me.”

  There was a silence and then the door opened, and Christie, her face blotched and tearstained, opened the door. “Jeff?”

  “Hi. Can I come in?”

  “What are you doing here?” Christie asked. Jeff thought she looked frightened.

  “My mom wanted to talk to Miss Diana, and she brought me with her. They’re downstairs drinking coffee.” He made a face. “Can I see your room?”

  Christie stepped uncertainly backward and let Jeff into the nursery. He looked around, his eyes widening at the stains on the wall and the dirty curtains hanging over the window.

  “This is weird,” he said.

  “It used to be Aunt Diana’s, when she was a little girl,” Christie explained. Suddenly she saw the room through Jeff’s eyes and realized how dismal it really was. “I wish they’d paint it,” she said.

  “Why don’t they?”

  “Search me,” Christie said, shrugging. Jeff went to the window and looked out.

  “Hey! You can see everything from up here. There’s the mine, and you can see right into the barn, and—” He broke off as Christie suddenly burst into tears. “Hey—what’s wrong?”

  “I hate the barn!” Christie burst out. “That’s where Hayburner lived, and now he’s—” Unable to go on, she sank down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. Jeff looked at her worriedly, then went over to sit by her.