“Be brave and face the day,” she said to herself aloud, but quietly, so as not to awaken the household. She pledged to enjoy this day, all day. “In celebration of Henry’s dear life,” she whispered, “and for my family and Mom, for Alec, for Mrs. Pierson, and especially in memory of Cody.”
The sun wouldn’t rise until close to eight o’clock, but the weatherman had predicted a glorious day. It would be too gorgeous to do anything but ride. She quickly got dressed.
The sky at the horizon was lightening, but it was still dark when Bird crept outside. The thaw had continued overnight, and the laneway was clear in patches. She expected that the roads would be the same. Her hope was to be gone before anybody was up, and she was impatient to jump into her saddle and take Sunny out into the woods.
All the horses in the barn greeted her with nickers. She reassured them that Cliff would be there on time to feed them, and she hastily tacked up Sunny. They were out of the barn before Cliff showed up.
I want double my breakfast when we get back.
I can’t give you double, but I’ll make it worth your while.
You better.
Stop grumbling, you miserable horse.
Bird and Sunny walked quietly past the house, careful to leave people sleeping. Bird didn’t want Hannah running outside with a list of chores.
Once on the road the footing was good, so they picked up a brisk trot. She filled her lungs to capacity with the fresh, cool air, and enjoyed the freedom of stretching out and moving together with her horse after being locked in with ice. It felt so good.
The neighbours with their families had been gone by midnight the night before. Amazingly, even after her horrible experience in the ice storm, Mrs. Pierson was ready to stay up all night. She sure loves a party, Bird thought with a grin. In the end, her family had taken her home with them, including Mousie and the little boys.
Bird pinched herself. Had she actually met Mousie last night? The famous Hilary James? Yes. And they’d actually had a conversation. It was hard to believe.
Bird’s mother, Eva, had become a little livelier as the night went on. Bird remembered their brief heart-to-heart and felt warm. It was a good beginning. And she was thrilled about the silver brooch with the rearing horse, Fred’s gift to Eva on their first date. Bird was truly happy to own it. Before she’d gone to bed, exactly as she’d promised her mother, she’d put it in a special place for safekeeping.
Eva and Stuart had gone as soon as they knew that little Henry would be okay. Bird and Julia had walked them to their car. Eva had asked them to come with her to visit Grandma Jean, and both girls had agreed to visit her the next evening. Bird hoped that it would go smoothly. No matter what, they wouldn’t give up. Grandma Jean was Eva’s mother, after all, and their grandmother. Pete’s advice about family and kindness must be followed.
Julia had stayed with Bird at Saddle Creek Farm. Hannah had insisted, knowing that Eva and Stuart needed some time alone.
Bird thought about Aunt Hannah and her new uncle, Paul. Around midnight, Bird and Alec had crept into the house and covered the newlyweds’ bed with a million pieces of cut-up newspaper in place of confetti, and they had hung ribbons and Christmas bows randomly all over the bedroom. She chuckled as she imagined their surprise.
Alec had stayed until Aunt Hannah finally kicked him out, which was around 12:30 a.m. Bird felt a warm glow inside as she imagined his handsome face with his sparkling eyes and enchanting smile. They’d snuck in another few kisses before he left. Funny, she thought, how quickly time passes when you’re with someone special.
Bird had no idea what time her father had disappeared. The last she’d seen him he was soaking wet, climbing out of the pond. Wherever he was now, Bird hoped he felt her love for him. She was resigned to the fact that she would only see him sometimes, whenever he showed up. That was enough. It had to be. She pressed her gloved hand over the necklace he’d given her, and she vowed to wear it always. One day he’d tell her about her grandmother. Bird wanted to know all about her.
Hannah, Paul, Julia, and Bird had cleaned up as much as they could and were in bed a little after 1:00 a.m. Cliff had made sure that the fire was totally out, and had hauled the straw bales back to the barn. He’d stored Cody’s body, still wrapped in the blue blanket, somewhere safe until the funeral. The rest of the mess could wait.
Bird had wondered why the day after Christmas was called Boxing Day. She thought it was because there used to be boxing matches on that day, or that it was the day when people returned their presents — in boxes — to exchange for sale items or the correct size. Curious, she’d checked Wikipedia and read that the origin of the term was British, from the 1830s. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, is was “the first week-day after Christmas-day, observed as a holiday on which post-men, errand-boys, and servants of various kinds expect to receive a Christmas-box.”
It made enough sense for Bird to accept it as truth. The serving class got the leftovers. She hoped things had changed since 1830.
Low on the eastern horizon, the sun began to glow as they continued up the road. The ice on the branches dripped as it melted. The roads were all passable, and the air was chock full of singing birds, happy to have weathered the storm.
Bird wasn’t unhappy, but she felt deeply that something was missing. That something was undeniably Cody. Until this day, even when he didn’t show himself, Bird would sense that he was somewhere watching out for her, ready to warn her of danger or to head it off.
Today was very different. He was never going to pop his head up from the tall grass, or suddenly message her with a warning. It was hard to get her head around that fact.
Cody was gone. Not for today, but forever.
She missed his presence. But he still had a presence because she was thinking about him. Was it the lack of his presence that she was feeling? Or was it the reality of his absence, because in thinking about him she felt his absence?
You’re driving me crazy. What the heck are you thinking about, Bird?
I’m thinking about Cody. I miss him.
I do, too. But all that absence stuff confuses me.
Bird grinned. Me, too.
They got to the T-junction in the road and turned left. Bird asked Sunny to walk for a bit. The shoulder of the road was soft with melted ice and mud, and Sunny’s hooves sank deeply in some areas. She breathed in the fresh air and patted his neck.
Is there anything more glorious than a hack on a beautiful day? Bird asked.
Yes. Winning a trophy on a beautiful day.
You are the most competitive creature I’ve ever met.
You mean the most talented.
Bird laughed out loud. She found her horse hilarious.
They jumped a wooden coup fence from a standstill, then turned onto a trail up a rolling hill beside the woods. Once past some rocks, they began to trot.
A female deer was standing, alert, on the hill. Other deer would be hiding in the trees behind her, watching the horse and rider, and wondering if they were friend or foe.
We come in peace, transmitted Bird.
Yes, we know. You are Bird and Sunny.
Do you know us?
We see you often. You always come in peace.
Thank you.
Be safe.
Bird smiled. Animals know so much more than people think they do. They notice so much more, too, and people have no idea they’re being observed. And they warn each other if there is something or someone to fear.
Bird’s mind went back to the concept of the presence of absence. Pete Pierson had that effect on her. Suddenly, out of the blue, she’d have a strong sense of him. Like when he spoke to her last night. Did Pete really say that? Or was it a powerful memory of what Pete had been all about while he was alive? Kindness above all, and the importance of family, in good times and in bad.
&
nbsp; Cody always used to say, “Take the good and leave the rest.” Bird had thought that it meant you should eat the best part of a meal and throw the bad in the garbage, but he’d explained that it meant to let go of the bad parts of life and retain the good. She would try to remember that, too.
And what about her father? And Alec? They were alive, so it was different, but Bird thought about them a lot in very different ways when they weren’t actually present. Both of them were present in their absence.
Stop doing that!
I’ll try.
I’m going crazy here.
Then stop listening to my thoughts.
You’re sitting right on top of me.
I’m not reading your thoughts.
Because you’re too busy with this absence and presence, and goodness and badness stuff!
I’m just trying to understand things. When beings die, do they remain with us, somehow?
I’m not listening anymore.
Bird put those thoughts out of her head and concentrated on their beautiful ride through the pastures, past the woods.
They rode by some blanketed horses busily munching on a round bale in the fenced-off paddock. These were top show hunters, bred impeccably and trained to perfection. They looked serene and content in their herd, eating hay. Most show horses are isolated with very little turnout to prevent them from hurting themselves or each other. And when they kick up their heels, the grooms rush out to bring them back inside. Bird wished that all show horses would be allowed to hang out in such a natural setting as this.
Amen to that, messaged Sunny.
You said you’re not listening anymore.
I will if I like.
Bird knew that Mousie had allowed Dancer to graze in a big field and to live like a horse. She had no choice, of course, because Dancer notoriously jumped out, anyway, but still, Mousie’s philosophy was the same as Bird and Hannah’s about the mental health of horses, and their need to buck and play.
And last night Bird had met Mousie in person. Bird shook her head in disbelief. After all the years of hearing stories about her exploits and great skill, Hilary “Mousie” James had become like a movie star in Bird’s mind. A celebrity. But she’d been so very human, Bird remembered, when her little boy fell through the ice. And kind.
They entered the south forest from the edge of the hayfields at a walk. Sunlight speckled through the branches of the trees in the dense parts, and rendered the white snow blinding in the open patches.
Bird thought about her mother, Eva. Would this really be the start of a new and better relationship? Bird had been disappointed before. Time would tell. She must put bygones behind her, but recognized how difficult it would be to let down her guard. The pattern of their squabbles had been set long ago and would take willpower to change.
The childhood memories that Eva had spoken about at Christmas dinner were dreadful. Now that Eva had shared them, they weren’t locked away in a box anymore, like Laura Pierson had explained, needing noise and movement and confusion to keep them hidden away. Maybe Eva would be able to examine them now, and put them in a perspective where they would be less harmful to her. And to the people around her.
Even though Bird had always suspected there was a reason that Eva was so messed up, this particular revelation had come as a shock. It was hard to imagine any father being capable of such betrayal, but if any father were, it would be Kenneth Bradley. Bird knew first-hand how selfish and conniving he was. He vindictively mowed down anyone in his way, including Bird, his own granddaughter.
After dinner last night, Eva had seemed much more thoughtful than usual. Giving Bird that brooch proved it. It was beautiful, she thought, but the meaning far outweighed the value. She couldn’t remember a gift from her mother that was anything but clothes she would never wear or products that might improve her appearance, always given with an acidic barb that cut her down.
Bird sighed. Fred had said that Eva would need to do some hard work in order to begin to heal. Bird had no idea what that work would be or how long it would take. She promised herself that no matter what, like Mrs. Pierson had instructed, she would be supportive. She made a wish that Eva would be okay.
Well, she can’t get worse.
Sunny, that’s not very nice.
What? You forget so soon? She was horrible to you.
Okay. Maybe.
She messed you up, Bird.
But I’m okay now.
No thanks to her. She’s selfish and unstable. Scary.
She’s my mother. If I can help her, I will.
Aren’t you the Miss Priss.
And aren’t you the grinch who stole Christmas.
That’s the second time you said that. What is a grinch?
I’ll read you the book.
No thanks.
They reached a fork in the trail. One trail led more or less directly home, over a little wooden bridge and down a wooded path to the road. The other added fifteen minutes to the trip.
Bird felt a sudden, strong urge that she couldn’t resist. She took the fork on their right and they headed west, the long way home through the woods. In these woods lived an assortment of wild animals, including many coyotes. In the past, Cody had been extremely watchful through here and a little tense until they’d passed safely through.
Again, Bird thought, I’m thinking about Cody. He indeed retained a presence in his absence, she thought.
Sunny threw his head up and down. He had something to say. You confuse me, Bird. This talk about absence.
I told you. I’m trying to sort out the whole death thing.
Animals are different than humans.
How so, Sunny?
We understand death. Humans don’t. It’s very simple. Before we are given life, we must agree to die someday.
Like a deal?
I guess so. At death, the deal is fulfilled.
Bird gave that some thought as they walked along. This is helpful. Go on.
Death is coming sometime, but we never know when.
And how do you get ready for it?
You cannot. If you think you’re ready, you’re fooling yourself.
Bird considered this. Sunny might be on to something. She had not been ready for Mr. Pierson to die, no matter how much she thought she was. And Cody, too. She knew he was old and not well, but nothing could’ve prepared her for his actual death.
And you think animals are better at this than humans?
Yes. We accept death. We mourn the loss of the spirit, but briefly, because we know there will be new life, which must agree to die sometime, too, before it’s born.
And do you think of the lost spirits sometimes?
We move on. But we remember.
Sunny had given Bird a lot to think about. They walked along with no communication for a few minutes.
Then Sunny added, I think of Cody, too.
Yes. He was a remarkable animal.
I feel his presence.
Do you feel the presence of his absence?
I can buck you off at any time.
Bird laughed.
No, Bird, I mean it. I feel Cody’s presence. Now. Here.
They trotted up along the fence between two properties, then cantered along a wide trail toward the old stone barn that had been converted into the Stonewick Playhouse by Mousie’s grandmother and her husband Robert Wick. The playhouse was very busy during the summer, with plays in repertory, and left dormant for the winter.
Bird made the connection. Stone from Joy Featherstone, and Wick from Robert Wick. Stonewick. She’d never thought about it before.
The theatre was said to be haunted. Stories of Ambrose Brown’s ghost had circulated for years. It was known that he always sat in a certain seat in the balcony of the theatre. Many people had seen him, including Abby Malone, who’d
reported that he wasn’t scary. Apparently he was very funny, but he had lived a sad life. Bird was curious to hear more details. She hoped to meet him one day. Maybe he’d talk to her like he talked to Abby.
Today the old place looked abandoned. She had met Joy only a couple of times, but the older woman had made a large impression on her, with her warm, intelligent sense of humour and caring, honest personality. Bird liked her a lot and hoped she felt better soon.
Bird smiled as she recalled the story of how Cody had led a pack of wild coyotes through the car of Samuel Owens as he was preparing to blow up the theatre, and how he’d blown himself up, instead. Owens’s misdeeds were atrocious, and his demise was legendary. That night, Cody had become a local hero.
They trotted along the mowed path, past the theatre to the ditch, then up a rise with young fir trees on both sides.
Sunny suddenly stopped trotting. His entire body stiffened. He flared his nostrils and flipped his upper lip.
Bird.
What?
A very small animal is in distress.
Where?
Sunny looked to his left. He backed up. Right there.
Bird slid to the ground. She ducked under the low branches, getting soaked as they released their soggy icicles onto her bare neck and down the back of her coat.
Am I getting close, Sunny? I can’t see anything.
One step more.
I see it.
There, down a hole in the snow, was a furry baby animal all curled up. Bird looked for any prints close by that might indicate that its mother was tending it, but she could detect no signs of activity around the hole at all.
Hello, little one. Can you hear me?
It made a tiny mewling noise.
Bird was struck by the helplessness of this creature, alone in wintertime. This day was mild, but cruel weather was sure to come back soon. It wouldn’t live long out here.
Sunny, we’re bringing him home.
Of course we are.
Bird broke away the crust of ice and lifted the tiny animal out of the hole. It had light grey fur and looked like a puppy. It was so young that its eyes were still closed. Bird stroked his cheek, and he snapped his tiny sharp teeth at her as quick as lightning.
Christmas at Saddle Creek Page 12
