Stevie laughed. “I guess there’s no question where you and Cam are going to register when you get engaged, huh?” She grinned as her friend blushed deeply. Carole had always been more interested in horses than in guys, but all that had changed recently when Cam Nelson, an old friend who had moved to California years earlier, had suddenly returned and swept Carole off her feet. It was obvious to anyone who saw them together that Carole was blissfully happy, but she was still a little shy about discussing her new boyfriend, as if fearing that talking about it would jinx the whole thing.
“Anyway,” Carole said quickly, “I guess we could just get Red and Denise a Saddlery gift certificate or something.”
Lisa looked uncertain. “I guess,” she said slowly. “But they probably need that stuff they registered for a lot more than another pair of breeches or whatever.”
Stevie rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said. “They really need a gravy boat.”
“I’m sure they’ve registered for stuff other than gravy boats, Stevie,” Lisa said as they reached the edge of the small herd and stopped. “They probably need, like, silverware and wineglasses and stuff.”
Stevie wasn’t convinced. As the three of them spread out and got to work, calmly and quietly approaching the two horses they wanted, she kept thinking about their conversation. She had visited Red and Denise’s small apartment, and as far as she could tell, they had all the necessities already. What good would another soup spoon or two do them? How could that possibly be as special as something their friends picked out themselves?
Fortunately, both Patch and Congo seemed more than willing to head inside, and soon the two horses were obediently trailing along behind the girls. As they turned and moved back toward the gate, Stevie cleared her throat. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just can’t believe that Red and Denise really want all that boring stuff. I’d rather give them something they’ll appreciate.” Suddenly an idea occurred to her. A brilliant idea. “I know! What they really need is … a honeymoon!”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” she said. “I mean, the only reason they’re even having a decent ceremony and reception is because Max and Deborah are giving them the whole shebang as their wedding gift. Why not follow their example?”
“You mean pay to send them on a honeymoon?” Carole said uncertainly. “That sounds kind of expensive.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Stevie shrugged, her mind working a mile a minute. “You know how Red and Denise are—they wouldn’t care about lying around on some Caribbean island or anything anyway. All they need is a little getaway. You know, a chance to recover from their whirlwind engagement and all. Maybe we could book them a nice room at a hotel in D.C. for a couple of nights.”
“Stevie, you’ve done it again,” Carole said with a grin. “I think it’s a great idea! I’m in for sure.” She paused and added shyly, “Cam, too.”
Lisa nodded. “Agreed. We can all chip in. I’m sure Scott and Callie will want to be in on this. If we get enough people, we can probably buy them a couple of nice meals, too, and maybe some show tickets or something.”
“Great!” Stevie rubbed her hands together, rolling Patch’s cotton lead line between them. “I’ll call some hotels tonight to check on prices and stuff. We probably won’t be able to get them in on their actual wedding night, since it’s New Year’s Eve, but by the next day—”
“Hey, check it out,” Carole said abruptly, gazing into the distance over Stevie’s shoulder. “That’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” Stevie turned to see what Carole was looking at. Almost immediately, she spotted a dramatically marked Appaloosa grazing peacefully in the next pasture. She frowned. “Hey, that’s Scooby,” she said. “What’s he doing out here?”
Carole shrugged. “That’s what I’m wondering, too,” she said, giving a gentle tug on Congo’s lead line to get him moving. “It seems weird that he would need turning out if Callie has him in training. Why would she waste a whole school-free day when she’s so eager to get back into shape?”
“He didn’t get hurt the other day, did he?” Stevie asked, keeping stride beside Carole, with Patch trailing obediently at her shoulder. “You know, out in the woods with George and all that?”
Carole shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so,” she said. “As far as I know, he was fine the next day.”
“It’s probably no big deal.” Lisa didn’t seem terribly interested in the whole issue as she glanced at the leopard-spot gelding. “Callie’s probably just taking a few days off to do the holiday thing with her family.”
“Maybe.” Stevie turned her head and stared at Scooby for a moment as she walked. “I guess that’s probably it. I just hope Maureen the new wonder stable hand didn’t screw up and turn him out by accident.”
“Yeah,” Carole agreed. “That would be a real shame.”
Stevie shot her a quick, curious glance over Patch’s withers. She knew that it couldn’t be easy for Carole to watch a newcomer take over the job that used to be hers, especially when there were only a few days left until her grounding was officially over. “So has the colonel said anything about letting you work at the stable again?” she asked.
Carole bit her lip. “Not exactly,” she said. “I mean, I haven’t really mentioned it. Besides, I’ve been so busy trying to figure out what to get Cam for Christmas, I’ve hardly had time to think about anything else.”
Stevie nodded and gave Lisa an amused glance. The two of them had been saying for years now that it was high time some nice guy came along and swept Carole off her feet. At last it seemed to have happened.
They discussed Carole’s grounding for the rest of the walk back to the stable building. As they entered the wide entryway with the two horses in tow, Ben Marlow emerged from the stable aisle, pushing an empty wheelbarrow. Ben had been a stable hand at Pine Hollow since graduating from high school a year and a half earlier. Stevie had to admit that he had a truly amazing touch with horses—they responded to him almost as if he were one of their own, not human at all. That was just as well, in Stevie’s opinion, since Ben seemed to be much less skilled in communicating with his own species. Or maybe he was just much less interested in the human race. In any case, he had never tried very hard to make friends.
Still, Stevie knew that while Ben might not have a lot to say, not much happened around Pine Hollow that he didn’t know about. “Yo, Ben,” she said. “What’s the deal with Scooby? We just saw him turned out.”
As always, Ben seemed a little surprised that someone was speaking to him. “Callie called,” he replied gruffly. “Her orders.”
“You mean she’s not coming to ride today?” Stevie asked, more than a little surprised. One of the first things she’d noticed about Callie was her intensity. Now that Callie finally had her own horse, Stevie had expected her to spend more time than ever at the stable, not less.
Ben merely shrugged in response. Without another word, he turned and moved off, pushing his wheelbarrow toward the other aisle.
“That’s weird,” Stevie said, turning back to face her friends as Ben disappeared around the corner. Even in the midst of her surprise about Callie’s odd decision, she noticed that Carole was staring off in the direction Ben had gone. Stevie grimaced slightly. She knew that her friend had had some feelings for Ben before Cam had come back into the picture. Stevie had been glad at her friend’s change of heart—Carole wasn’t exactly the most confident person when it came to guys, and Stevie had been sure that no good could come of her trying to make a go of it with a difficult, uncommunicative, fiercely private guy like Ben.
But was Ben really out of the picture? The way Carole was staring after him, Stevie was no longer certain. She opened her mouth, tempted to ask Carole about it.
Instead, she cleared her throat. “So, Carole,” she said casually, “what were you just saying about Cam’s Christmas present? Does this mean you haven’t made any progress on your shopping? He gets back from his r
elatives’ house on New Year’s Eve, right?”
Carole blinked. “Oh!” she said, finally turning to face her friends. “No, I still haven’t found the perfect gift. I just don’t know what to do. Whatever I give him really has to be special.”
Stevie nodded and smiled, relieved to see the way Carole’s face had lit up at the mention of Cam’s name. As Lisa listed a few shopping suggestions, Stevie glanced one more time down the aisle after Ben.
Whew, she thought. Must’ve just been a momentary lapse. Just as well, too. Carole has a good thing going with a good guy now. She doesn’t need Ben Marlow messing with her head.
TWO
Callie rested her chin on her hand and stared at the tall bookcase on the far side of her bedroom. The bottom three shelves held books, but the top three were crowded with the trophies and plaques that she had won in her many years of riding. Above the bookcase was a large bulletin board that was almost completely covered by row after row of show ribbons.
Callie’s gaze slipped from the first small cup she’d ever won—at an equitation schooling show at her first training barn—to a plaque proclaiming her triumph at a major endurance competition the previous spring. I remember how tough that one was to win, she thought, running her eyes over the familiar inscription. It was raining so hard that day, I was afraid the whole mountain was going to slide down on top of us. Three other riders dropped out before the five-mile mark.
She looked next at a particular yellow ribbon fluttering near the bottom of the bulletin board. Earning that one had required a different kind of courage, the kind she’d needed to overcome her jitters the first time she’d ever jumped in a show. She had been just eight years old and riding a school horse, a recalcitrant pony appropriately named Mule. For two solid weeks prior to the show, Mule had misbehaved every time she rode him into the ring, refusing more jumps than he took. Callie’s instructor had offered to let her switch mounts, but Callie had been almost as stubborn as the pony. When she and Mule had entered the ring for their round, the four low cross rails had seemed as daunting as those in a Grand Prix course.
But I did it, she thought with a small smile. I kicked that pony like I meant it, and we went out there and jumped without stopping for the first time ever.
She sighed, wondering when that kind of courage had deserted her. Had it been the moment out there in the woods the other day, when she had suspected that George had sabotaged her horse? Or had it happened even earlier—when she’d first heard him shout her name and realized he had tracked her down like a foxhound trailing his game?
She shook her head, trying to shake all thoughts of George Wheeler out of her mind. Glancing at the bulletin board again, she focused instead on another ribbon. This one was blue, but she remembered that she had almost lost her shot at getting a ribbon that day at all. She had lost a stirrup during an equitation class, but luckily it had been on the side facing away from the judge. Without allowing even a hint of consternation to cross her face, Callie had calmly continued her ride, managing to regain the stirrup without the judge ever noticing. By the time the judge called for a reverse, both of Callie’s feet were firmly in the stirrups again, and she had wound up winning the class.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t exactly what most people would call a terrifying experience, she thought with a hint of a smile. Still, my instructor said it took guts to carry on like that without letting the judge see I was upset.
She sighed and leaned back on her bed, closing her eyes to rest them. She had hardly slept the night before. In fact, she hadn’t slept more than an hour at a stretch since the encounter in the woods the other day. She had been haunted by nightmares that she barely remembered upon waking, though she was pretty sure that a certain pale, pudgy, and oddly menacing guy had figured prominently in most of them. She had spent most of Christmas Day feeling cranky and exhausted, not to mention guilty for constantly snapping at her family.
But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was, she was afraid to return to Pine Hollow. Afraid to face George again.
But that’s stupid, she told herself, clenching her hands into fists. What do you think he’s going to do?
Before the thought was fully formed, she knew it sort of missed the point. It was true that George had suddenly, in one relatively brief encounter, become a much more complicated and mysterious person, and that she would never look at him the same way again. But she really wasn’t worried about what he might do when she saw him again—not rationally, anyway. The stable was almost always full of people when she was there, so the thought of what other bizarre tricks he might pull wasn’t nearly as frightening as wondering what she might do when she saw him.
What if I freak out, get hysterical? Callie could feel her cheeks turning pink at the idea. What if I make a total fool of myself? Then not only will George know that he scared me, but everyone else will know it, too. And I really couldn’t stand that.
She sighed again, feeling hot tears well up. She stared at her trophies, trying to figure out exactly what had gone wrong inside her head the other day. How had this happened? How had the girl who’d fought so hard for all those ribbons—the girl who wasn’t afraid of anything—turned into this quivering, whimpering coward?
This is ridiculous, she thought, tracing the pattern on her bedspread with one finger. I mean, what really happened, anyway? George stumbled upon my route map in the stable office and decided to follow me around like the lovesick, pathetic puppy dog I already knew he was. He wanted to play hero and pry that stone out of Scooby’s foot, and in the process he accidentally jammed the pick too hard and loosened the shoe. When that happened, he was so clueless that he convinced himself the shoe was loose before he got to it. By then he was so worked up with his own helpfulness that he got clumsy and accidentally knocked my cell phone into the stream so that I couldn’t call for some real help. And to top it off, he managed to put himself right in the way of Scooby’s hoof and ended up knocking himself out on a tree. No big deal.
She focused on the idea that that was all that had really happened. It had all been just a series of unfortunate coincidences. Accidents. A run of bad luck.
But she couldn’t quite manage to make herself believe it.
“Callie?” Scott knocked gently on her half-open door and stuck his head into the room. “There you are. What are you up to?”
Callie took a few quick breaths, regaining control of herself and willing the threatening tears away. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Um, just hanging out.”
“Cool. Um, I was just wondering if you wanted me to drop you at the stable or anything.” Scott blinked at her, his blue eyes wide and guileless.
Despite her present mood, Callie almost smiled. Her brother could fool most people with his gee-shucks innocent act, but not her. It was as clear as water that he was just looking for an excuse to go over to Pine Hollow. And Callie knew why. He was hoping Lisa would be there.
And I’m hoping George won’t be there.
Callie’s smile faded as she thought about Scott’s offer. It would be so nice to go over and see Scooby.… She was tempted to spill her guts to her brother right then and there. Maybe talking to Scott about what had happened would help her put it all in perspective, give her a handle on how to deal with it.
No way, she thought firmly, getting control of herself once again. That would be giving the whole stupid situation too much importance. All I need to do is get over this ridiculous, pointless, totally idiotic fear and forget it ever happened.
Of course, that didn’t mean she was ready to go back to Pine Hollow. Not yet.
“Um, no thanks,” she told him. “I think I’ll just hang out around here today.”
“Are you sure?” Scott looked surprised. More than a little disappointed, too. Callie guessed this was his best chance to hang out with Lisa, especially since he’d decided not to ask her out again until she’d decided whether or not to get back together with her ex-boyfriend, Alex Lake.
But as m
uch as she would otherwise like to help him out, she just couldn’t do it. Not today. She shrugged. “I’m sure,” she mumbled. “Totally.”
As Lisa let herself into the front hall of her house, she heard her mother’s voice in the kitchen. She thought about going straight upstairs to avoid any chance of another unpleasant confrontation, but she was thirsty. Taking a deep breath and vowing to stay calm, she headed into the kitchen. Her mother was leaning against the counter with a glass of white wine next to her right hand and the phone tucked into the crook of her left shoulder.
“…and it would be nice to have that traditional Christmassy look instead of just—Oh! Here’s Lisa now.” Mrs. Atwood lowered the phone and smiled at her. “Hello, sweetie. How was the stable today?”
Lisa shrugged. “Fine.”
“That’s good.” Her mother hardly seemed to have heard her. She took a sip of wine. “Guess what? I have your aunt Marianne on the phone, and she says they had a white Christmas! That cold snap that just made everything windy and miserable here brought them three inches of bright, beautiful snow.”
“That’s nice.” Lisa gritted her teeth, willing herself to stay cool as she reached into the refrigerator for a soda. But she couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she added, “Maybe you should go up there and build a snowman or something.”
Her mother frowned and gave her a look she’d perfected over the years, one that told Lisa she was being so childish that she might as well go out in a diaper. Then she raised the phone again. “Marianne? Lisa says hello.”
Lisa rolled her eyes and headed for the door. Leave it to her mother to get all excited about snow. I remember last winter when we got two inches, she was practically hysterical about all the salt mush that splashed up on her car while she was driving, she thought with a grimace. But I guess this is different. This is wonderful, magical New Jersey snow, so of course it’s all good.
Setting the Pace Page 2
