Starlight Christmas

by Bonnie Bryant

  Carole’s coal-black kitten, Snowball, lay in a little ball at the foot of her bed. Carole had given her pet the name because it was as contrary as he was. It seemed that no matter what Carole told him to do, he did the exact opposite. Now, she wished he would wake up and keep her company. He usually wanted to play with the yarn as she knit anyway. But he was having none of it. He slept.

  “Go to sleep, Snowball,” she said. “Whatever you do, don’t come play with this yarn. And for goodness’ sake, stay at the foot of the bed.”

  He did.

  Carole was immediately suspicious. Snowball was nothing if not predictable. She’d never known him to do what she said. She put down her knitting and reached down to pat him. He lifted his head wearily, acknowledging her touch, and then put it back. Something was wrong.

  Carole scratched his head where he liked it best, right on top. Usually this made his ears droop a little, as if to make more space for her to scratch, but this time his ears stayed where they were. Carole was concerned and decided to watch him carefully.

  She returned to her knitting. She’d finished another inch of the foot when Snowball rose slightly and then began making strange sounds, as if he was coughing and trying to bring something up. Then he stopped the coughing and settled back down again.

  That settled it. Carole decided to get hold of the veterinarian, Judy Barker. Judy was primarily an equine veterinarian, but she also looked after the other animals around her clients’ barns, and that always included cats. Judy had known Snowball since he’d been born and she would know what to do.

  Carole looked up Judy’s number and telephoned her. Judy answered on the first ring. Much to Carole’s surprise, she found herself talking to the vet on her car phone.

  “It makes me feel so important!” Carole joked.

  “You are,” Judy assured her. “You are. So, what’s up?”

  Carole described Snowball’s odd behavior and asked if she could bring the kitten into Judy’s clinic.

  “Sure you can, Carole, but actually, I’m only about three minutes from your house. Why don’t I save you some time and worry and come by and take a look at Snowball now?”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Not usually,” Judy admitted. “But my next stop is to see a horse who likes to kick me. I’d rather put that off a few minutes to check on Snowball. And besides, you’re on my way.”

  The next thing Carole knew, Judy was pulling her truck into the Hansons’ driveway and knocking on the door. Carole let her in and brought her upstairs to where Snowball still lay.

  Judy patted the black kitten reassuringly and then checked him carefully. She took his temperature, listened to his heart, and looked down his throat.

  “He’s got a nice, long, smooth coat, doesn’t he?” she remarked to Carole.

  “Yes, he does,” Carole agreed. “Sometimes it seems like he leaves piles of fur wherever he’s been! It means I have to vacuum a lot, but I don’t mind.”

  Judy smiled. “Well, this is a healthy cat. What’s up is that he’s got a hair ball, which is just a collection of fur he swallows when he gives himself a bath. He’ll cough it up and that’ll be it.” Judy gave Carole some medicine that would both help him cough up the hair ball and help prevent him from forming another. Then, as they were talking, Snowball stood up again, jumped down onto the floor, coughed hard several times, and produced the offending hair ball. He looked up at Carole and his doctor as if to say, “So, aren’t you proud of me?” and immediately began playing with the wool on Carole’s father’s sock.

  “I guess there wasn’t much to worry about, huh?” Carole asked sheepishly.

  “No, but it doesn’t matter,” Judy assured her. “If an owner’s concerned, I’m concerned. I’d rather have you call me when you’ve just noticed that something’s wrong and it turns out to be minor than to have you wait until something serious is wrong and it’s so wrong that I can’t do anything about it. I wish all my house calls were as pleasant as this one.”

  Carole offered Judy a cup of tea, to help strengthen her for the kicking horse she was about to meet. Judy accepted gladly.

  “Are you still thinking about becoming a veterinarian?” Judy asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Carole said. “Maybe, anyway. What I really know is that I want to work with horses. I just can’t decide how. Maybe I’ll just ride. Maybe I’ll become a trainer, or a breeder, or a vet. As long as it’s horses, I’ll be happy.” The pot whistled and Carole poured the hot water onto the tea bags. “Milk or lemon?” she asked.

  “Just plain,” Judy said. “Thank you.” She accepted her cup from Carole and stirred her tea. “You know, if you want to be a vet, maybe you ought to get a taste of what it’s like. You see me occasionally at Pine Hollow, and every once in a while at your home or in my clinic, but that’s not the same as seeing me doing the rounds on all my equine patients. Would you like to do that sometime?”

  Carole gaped. Then she realized her mouth was hanging open and she shut it. “Like to?” she asked. “I’d love to!”

  “Well, aren’t you on vacation now? Do you have any free time?”

  “Just about seventeen days,” Carole answered. “Minus the time it’ll take me to finish knitting my dad’s sock.”

  “Hmmm,” Judy said thoughtfully. “I do emergencies as they come up, but my routine rounds are Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Why don’t you plan to come with me then? We could start tomorrow right after your Pony Club meeting.”

  “Wow. That would be absolutely fantastic!” Carole said. She was so excited that she banged against the table and spilled her tea as well as Judy’s.

  “You may not be so enthusiastic after a day or two of it,” Judy said. “If you’re going to hang around with me, I’m going to work you hard.”

  “Working with horses is never too hard,” Carole told her.

  Judy smiled warmly. “Working with horses is often very hard, but always rewarding, so I don’t mind, and I bet you won’t, either.”

  “I know I won’t mind,” Carole said.

  Judy had to leave then, but before she went, she made arrangements with Carole to have Colonel Hanson call her and confirm that it would be all right for Carole to tag along and give her a hand. Carole knew that even if her father had doubts about it, Judy could convince him. Anybody who could convince a horse to stand still while she checked his digestive system could certainly convince a Marine Corps colonel to give his daughter an opportunity as good as this one.

  Even after Judy had been gone for a long time, Carole still could barely believe her good luck. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends!

  AT THE SAME time Judy and Carole were talking about Colonel Hanson, Stevie and Lisa were seeing him. He was at the mall.

  “So this is the errand Carole mentioned her dad had to run,” Stevie said. “I smell a rat, don’t you?”

  “Sure, but it’s a Christmas rat,” Lisa reminded her. “They’re white rats and they tell white lies.”

  “We’re shopping for Carole. How about you?” Stevie asked when Colonel Hanson caught up with them.

  “Me, too,” he said. “I have something in mind for her big present, but I want some fun little things to put in her stocking and under the tree.”

  “Her big present is so big it doesn’t fit under the tree?” Lisa asked, impressed.

  “Not the tree we’re putting up this weekend,” the colonel said. “And that reminds me that I’ve been meaning to call you girls. I can use some help here and I suspect you’re the ones to give it to me. Why don’t we leave all these boring scarves, fuzzy slippers, and earrings behind us, step over to Pizza Man across the way, and have a little talk?”

  “I’m never too full of junk food to say no to pizza,” Stevie said, leading the way.

  In a few minutes, Colonel Hanson and the girls were settled into a booth, waiting as a pepperoni, sausage, and mushroom pizza was being cooked especially for them.

  “So, how can we help?” Stevie asked, getting
down to business.

  “Well,” the colonel began, “when Carole’s mother died two years ago, she left Carole a small bequest, really a legacy from Carole’s grandmother. It’s been in a bank, collecting interest, and I’ve decided what I want to do with it.”

  “What’s a bequest? And where do we come in?” Lisa asked.

  “Pepperoni, sausage, mushroom special, piping hot, coming in!” the waiter said. He put the pizza on the center of the table. Then he dashed back to the counter and reappeared with their drinks, some paper plates, and napkins.

  “Oh, I love it!” Stevie said. “A pizza with everything I want, and nothing my brothers want!”

  Each of them took a slice.

  “So, where were we?” Stevie asked. “Something to do with Carole’s mom?”

  CAROLE HEARD HER father’s car coming into the driveway. She had to hurry. She didn’t want her father to know she’d been up to something in her room. She folded up the nearly finished sock, packed it into her knitting bag, and scooted everything under her bed. She turned out the light in her room, went downstairs, turned on the television, and collapsed in the easy chair.

  “Hi, Carole, I’m home!” her father called out from the hallway.

  “Hi, Dad. In here,” she said, staring fixedly at the television screen.

  “What are you watching?” he asked when he came into the den.

  “Oh, something on cable,” she said, trying to sound casual. “It’s very interesting.”

  “I bet,” he said. “Looks to me like it’s the latest farm report. Those can be spellbinding!”

  Carole looked more carefully at the screen. Her father was right. An agricultural specialist was interviewing a farmer about the infestation problem on his soy crop. She was going to have a problem convincing her father she was interested in that! She decided to turn the tables.

  “What have you been up to?” she asked, turning off the television.

  “Oh, well, uh, not much,” he said. “I stopped off at the Officers’ Club. One of my old buddies—from before you were born—was on the base and I just wanted to have a chance to see him.”

  “I thought you had some errands to run. Did you get them done?”

  “Errands? Oh, right. I stopped at the PX on the way to the Officers’ Club.”

  The PX wasn’t exactly on the way from her father’s office to the Officer’s Club, but she didn’t pursue her questioning. Her father was definitely fibbing to her. She had the nicest feeling that the fibs meant he’d been shopping for her. If that were the case, though, where were the packages? She decided that he’d left them in the car. She also decided that she probably hadn’t fooled him about the farm report.

  Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  TO STEVIE, THERE were three kinds of secrets: good ones, bad ones, and boring ones. She had the best kind—a good one. But the worst thing about the best kind was that it was the only kind you really had to keep. Keeping secrets wasn’t Stevie’s favorite activity. Telling them was much more fun!

  She dashed toward the stairs at her house, barely acknowledging the greetings from her parents.

  “Hi, how’d you get home?” her mother asked.

  “We ran into Colonel Hanson. He gave Lisa and me a ride home,” she said.

  “Dinner in a half an—” her mother began.

  “I already ate pizza at the mall,” she said, whizzing past both of her parents.

  “Then you’ll enjoy watching the rest of us eat—in one-half hour,” her mother said pointedly.

  “Okay,” Stevie agreed. Some things weren’t worth arguing about. Even though she sometimes hated being with her brothers, family dinners could be fun, if a little noisy. Besides, she thought she smelled tomato sauce and that might mean lasagna. She wouldn’t miss that, even if she was stuffed to the gills with pizza!

  She took the packages she had purchased at the mall and tucked them under her bed. That was her Christmas-present hiding place. It was also her lost-schoolbook hiding place, her missing-sock hiding place, and her broken-pencil hiding place. As a result, it was her cat, Madonna’s, most favored hiding place of all. Madonna spurted out, chasing a dust bunny. She gave Stevie a withering look, and left the room.

  Stevie tossed her coat toward her closet, slipped out of her shoes, and settled onto the bed. She picked up the phone and dialed one of her favorite numbers.

  “Hi, this is Stevie. Is Phil there?” she asked when Mrs. Marston answered.

  In a few seconds, Phil picked up the phone.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he said.

  Stevie knew he was joking a little, but there was a part of him that wasn’t joking and she liked that. Somehow, when Phil called her beautiful, it made her feel beautiful. It was a very nice feeling.

  “Hello, hunk,” she countered. Then she giggled a little. “Guess where I’ve been all afternoon,” she said. “I’ve been at the mall.”

  “You’re not turning into a mall rat on me, are you?” he asked.

  Stevie thought about the girls she knew who spent every spare minute at the mall, window-shopping, or wasting their money on earrings and stockings. The girls in her classes who did that always struck her as very uninteresting, though very well-groomed.

  “No way! I’ve been Christmas shopping. It makes me a sort of temporary mall rat, once a year.”

  “As long as it’s only temporary. Did you have fun?”

  “Oh, yes, lots. I was with Lisa. We actually bought some things for our families, too. You should see the mall. It’s all lit up with Christmas lights, and carols blast from every amplifier in the place. You can’t walk two steps without bumping into a phony Santa Claus or elves or reindeer. I’m really getting into the holiday spirit, aren’t you?”

  Phil laughed. “Around here, it’s impossible not to,” he said. “See, we’re not just a one-holiday family.”

  “That’s right,” Stevie said, recalling that Phil’s mother was Jewish and celebrated Hanukkah, while his father was a Christian and celebrated Christmas. “That means you get eight gifts for the eight days of Hanukkah, and at least one for Christmas—you lucky thing!”

  “It also means that we’ve got Christmas cookies and Hanukkah cookies, Hanukkah candles and Christmas lights. It used to confuse me a little, but now everything just comes in a great holiday jumble. I love it all.”

  “I always love this time of year, too, but my favorite part of all is the Starlight Ride. Did I remember to tell you about it?” she asked.

  “No. It sounds terrific,” he said. “Tell me now.”

  Stevie leaned back on her pillow and told Phil about the ride. She told him what it was like to be on a horse on a crisp winter night, with the stars above, and lamps to guide the way. “Sometimes, there’s snow on the ground. I love the sound of horses’ hooves crunching on the frozen snow. Sometimes it even makes me feel as if we lived a hundred years ago and horses are the only way we can get to where we’re going. Horses are the only way you can get that feeling. I love getting presents, of course, and giving them. But the Starlight Ride is Christmas to me.”

  “Can guests come along?” Phil asked.

  “What a neat idea!” Stevie said. The Starlight Ride would be even better if Phil could be there with her. Then it would not only be wonderful and Christmasy, but it would be romantic, too. “I’ll ask Max. I bet he’ll say yes.”

  “Ask him if you can bring two guests. My friend A.J. is coming over to our house that night, and I know he’ll want to come. He’s a better rider than I am, almost as good as you. He’d have a blast, too.”

  Stevie smiled to herself, accepting Phil’s compliment about her riding, but not taking it terribly seriously. She and Phil once had wasted a lot of time arguing over which of them was the better rider and competing against each other instead of working with each other. Now, they simply agreed that each one would claim the other was the better rider. In fact, they were both experienced, good riders. They were good enough to have fun riding togethe
r and occasionally competing against each other. Stevie was looking forward to the next Pony Club rally at which Pine Hollow’s Pony Club, Horse Wise, would compete against Phil’s. She was sure her own team would win, but she’d die before she’d tell Phil that!

  “Well, I’ll ask Max tomorrow and I’ll call you tomorrow night. Okay?” she asked.

  “No, I’ll call you tomorrow night because it’ll be my turn. We’re having a dance-committee meeting tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll have lots more to tell you about the New Year’s Eve party. The parents have been auditioning bands. I hate to think what they’ll end up choosing for us.”

  Stevie listened while Phil described the trio with an accordion that one parent was proposing. Another seemed to favor an oompah band, and a third was in favor of a square-dance band.

  “I’m sure they’re all kind of interesting,” Phil conceded. “But for a New Year’s Eve dance, I want rock ’n’ roll, don’t you?”

  “As long as the band knows a few slow songs, for, um, special times?” she said.

  “I’ll see to it,” Phil promised. “Now I’ve got to go. I’ll call tomorrow. Bye.”

  “Good night,” she said, and hung up. She liked talking with Phil on the phone. It always left her with a nice happy feeling. If her friends had told her, six months earlier, that she’d have a boyfriend, she would have informed them that they were completely out of their minds. But it was true. She did have a boyfriend. And she liked having a boyfriend. Some girls she knew who had boyfriends seemed to have suffered total personality changes, and not for the better. Stevie had had that problem at first, but had come around to her normal self fairly quickly, and stayed that way, mostly.