Nightmare

by Bonnie Bryant

  “It must have been awful for the slaves who fled to freedom,” said Lisa.

  “Definitely,” said Stevie. “From what I’ve read here, it was worse than that. It was a nightmare.”

  “YOU KNOW, I bet I’ll be able to send you a fax through my office machine,” said Colonel Hanson.

  Carole was next to him in the front seat of their station wagon. He was trying to make her feel better, and she was trying to pretend she felt better so that he wouldn’t worry that she was worried. Meanwhile, she didn’t want to worry that he was worried while he was gone. It was pretty confusing, and none of it made Carole feel any better.

  “That’s great, Dad,” she said.

  “And Sergeant Fowler will always be able to reach me in an emergency. All you have to do is to call her at my office and I’ll get the message.”

  “That’s great, Dad,” said Carole. She wondered if Sergeant Fowler would consider a serious case of homesickness—well, really dad-sickness—an emergency. Actually, Sergeant Fowler probably would. She was a wonderful warm woman who tried unsuccessfully to hide those qualities behind her stiff khaki uniform. When it came to Carole’s father, and Carole, for that matter, Sergeant Fowler was attentive and kind, so much so that it sometimes seemed as if Colonel Hanson left his daughter at home to go be with his mother at the office.

  “I’ll call her every once in a while to let her know I’ll be late at the stable, just so she won’t miss you too much,” Carole teased.

  Colonel Hanson laughed, and that made both of them feel better.

  He pulled to a stop in front of the Atwoods’ house. They sat for just a moment.

  “I’m going to miss you, baby,” he said, giving Carole a hug.

  “Me too,” said Carole, glad of her father’s shoulder to hide her tears.

  “And before you know it, I’ll be home,” he said.

  “That’s great, Dad,” said Carole.

  It only took a minute to get Carole’s suitcase from the back of the car to the door. Lisa and her mother were waiting in the dim hallway, still wearing bathrobes.

  The next few minutes were a jumble of hugs and reassurances. Carole was welcomed, the Atwoods were thanked by Colonel Hanson, Carole was hugged and reassured by her dad. So were Lisa and Mrs. Atwood. And then he was gone.

  Carole stood at the door and watched her father drive down the street in the morning twilight. Lisa stood next to her, her arm across Carole’s shoulder. Carole didn’t cry until she was sure her father was gone. Lisa gave her another hug, and Mrs. Atwood handed her a tissue. Carole thanked them both and then picked up her suitcase. She needed to be alone for a few minutes, and unpacking was the perfect excuse.

  Carole used her unpacking time to try to pull herself together. Her father had been away before. He’d been on lots of trips for the Corps. Sometimes she’d stayed with family or friends. Sometimes she had been able to go along with him. But this wasn’t just a trip. This was different, and that was what upset Carole. She didn’t know anything about the trip, and not knowing was the hardest of all. But it was her father’s job. He thought it was an important job, and it was important to do it right. Carole sighed. Most of the time, she was glad her father was in the Marines. Today, however, she had the feeling it would have been nice if he’d had a job that didn’t move, like pumping gas at the station in the middle of town. Or maybe he could commute into nearby Washington the way Mr. Atwood and Mr. and Mrs. Lake did. Whenever they took business trips, everybody knew where they were and exactly when they’d get back. But Carole’s father wasn’t those people. He was Colonel Hanson, her own beloved, wonderful, funny, gentle, and kind dad. Carole swallowed hard. She’d try to be strong for him.

  She closed her now empty suitcase, stored it in the closet, and turned out the closet light just as Lisa nudged open the door.

  “All done?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Carole said. “I’m ready for the day.” She hoped she sounded as if she meant it. It was one thing to have her father worry about her. She didn’t want her friends and their families worrying as well.

  Breakfast at Carole’s house was usually a rushed affair. A bowl of cereal, a cup of instant coffee for her father, some orange juice, and then a dash for the bus. At the Atwoods’, it was more like a meal. Everybody sat around the table at the same time, eating platefuls of hot food. Here it was a Tuesday, just any old Tuesday, and Mrs. Atwood had made pancakes. Maybe it was just because it was Carole’s first breakfast with them. She hoped so, anyway. Otherwise, her father might not recognize her when he got back!

  Lisa spooned some hot peaches onto her pancakes. “Carole, wait till you see what it is I’m working on. I got a great idea for my next history paper, and I talked to Chad last night and he’s got a book for me. It’s about Messerschmitts—you know, the German planes they used in World War Two? Also—Oh, Dad, do you know anything about the German arms buildup between World War One and World War Two?”

  “Sure,” said Mr. Atwood. “There’s a really good book called The Arms of Krupp that might be helpful. It’s about a family of arms manufacturers in Germany who provided munitions to the Prussians and Germans throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It might be in your school library, but it will certainly be in the town library.”

  Carole winced. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with talk about arms buildups, even if it was history. Her father was on a top secret mission he couldn’t talk about. That could be an arms buildup, too.

  Mrs. Atwood seemed to sense Carole’s discomfort. She clicked on the television so that they could watch one of the morning shows. At this time of year, they would probably be given an explanation of how to make kids’ Halloween costumes safe. That was much nicer to think about than war and conflict. But instead of some woman explaining how to put reflecting tape on a ghost costume, they found themselves watching the morning news.

  Carole realized that maybe she would get some hint of where her father might be if there was trouble brewing somewhere. It was a relief to find that the world was relatively peaceful. In fact, there was even talk of a peace summit in Paris. If someone was building up arms somewhere, the morning news didn’t know about it.

  “Time to go!” Mrs. Atwood announced, clicking off the television set and picking up the empty plates in front of the breakfasters. “I’ll see you girls about six o’clock tonight after your ride. Dinner at seven-thirty.”

  That was the first really nice thought Carole had had that bleak morning. She would go riding that afternoon. As long as she and Starlight could be together, something would be right in her universe.

  Carole and Lisa walked briskly toward school. Lisa’s house was down the block from Stevie’s. Stevie and her brothers didn’t go to Willow Creek’s public schools. They all went to Fenton Hall, a private school in town that was just far enough away that they had to take a bus. All four of the Lake children were waiting for the bus out in front of their house.

  Stevie waved happily to Carole and Lisa, then ran up and gave Carole a hug.

  “I’m sorry about your father being away and all, but it sure is great to have you in our very neighborhood. How about a Saddle Club meeting when we get out on the trail at Pine Hollow? There’s something I want to show you in the woods.”

  “It’s a date,” Carole told her, returning the hug. “See you there about three-thirty, okay?”

  “Have you got the book?” Lisa asked Stevie. For a moment Stevie looked blank; then she realized what Lisa was talking about.

  “Oh, sure. You want it now? I’d be glad to give it to you. It weighs a ton!” She reached into her book bag and pulled out Chad’s book on airplanes.

  “Thanks,” Lisa said to Stevie, and then again to Chad. She put the large volume into her own book bag.

  “That’s great,” she said to Carole as they continued along toward school. “This way I can get some reading done during lunch.”

  As they walked, Carole was once again bemused by her friends. They were so diff
erent from one another. It was a good thing they all loved horses or they might not have anything in common!

  CAROLE PUT DOWN her grooming tools and buried her face in Starlight’s neck. The silky softness of the gelding’s coat and mane were familiar and comforting. For the first time in that very long day, Carole felt some respite from her worries and her distress over her dad’s sudden departure.

  “Oh, Starlight,” she said. The horse tilted his chin down so that it pressed gently on her shoulder. It was his way of hugging her back, and it helped a lot.

  Starlight always seemed to understand. He’d listened patiently while she told him all about her father’s trip and how she was staying with Lisa, and he was listening again as she explained her frustration with her dear friend and hostess.

  “… and if I hear one more word about Messerschmitts or the German arms buildup, I think I’m going to scream! I mean, working hard on a paper is one thing—and a good thing—but this paper isn’t due until April and this is October. We’re talking six months! That’s not hard work, that’s obsession, and it’s nuts! For one thing, it’s going to drive me crazy. For another, really much more serious thing, it may drive Lisa crazy. It’s like she’s forgotten what can happen to her when she—”

  “Am I interrupting something?” Stevie asked, knocking politely on Starlight’s stall door.

  Carole pulled herself away from her horse and turned, smiling at her friend. “Just a conversation with the one friend I have who never disagrees with me!” she joked.

  Stevie laughed. “Speaking of friends, I’ve just tried to have a conversation with Lisa and the only thing she wanted to talk about was how interesting Chad’s book was. I looked at that book last night, and it’s not that I’m the best book judge in the world, but it didn’t even qualify as moderately interesting as far as I’m concerned. What’s with her today?”

  “Oh, boy,” said Carole. “That’s exactly what I was talking to Starlight about when you came in. It’s like she’s gone off the deep end. You know how she can be.”

  “I do,” said Stevie. “I also know that sometimes these obsessions pass quickly. Not that she won’t do a fine job on her paper when she goes to write it, but hopefully she’ll realize that it won’t take six months of hard labor and she’ll ease up. That would be great. I only hope it happens soon.”

  “Immediately is soon enough for me,” Carole said. She handed Stevie a towel for Starlight’s final rubdown, and the two of them worked on Starlight together. There was always work to do around horses, and it was always more fun if you did it with a friend. In a minute they’d be grooming Stevie’s horse, Belle, together.

  “Maybe we just have to wait for a while and see what happens,” Stevie suggested.

  “I guess,” Carole agreed. “And in the meantime, I’ll be at her house and can keep an eye on her.”

  “That’s another reason I’m glad you’re there,” Stevie said. She gave Starlight’s coat a final wipe with the cloth and tossed the towel into Carole’s grooming bucket. It was Belle’s turn now. “Horse number two, coming up!” she declared.

  Fifteen minutes later, all three girls were mounted on their horses, ready to have a nice long trail ride together. Troubles and worries melted away for each of them with the rhythm of their horses’ easy walks.

  Taking a trail ride meant doing whatever they wanted to do, but sometimes that also meant working on skills that they each needed to hone.

  “Can you help me with something?” Lisa asked. “I’ve been trying to get Prancer to curve her whole body when she makes a turn.”

  Out in the field, she demonstrated what she was doing and what Prancer was doing. The idea was to have the horse’s body follow a smooth, rounded line at a corner. Otherwise turns could be choppy and awkward. In formal English riding, smoothness was highly desirable and choppiness was definitely not.

  Carole and Stevie studied Prancer’s turns. Stevie spoke first.

  “I think it’s that you’re forgetting to give signals with anything more than your hands. If you only use the reins to turn, then the horse’s head leads the way and the rest of her body simply follows. If you use your legs, too, putting a little bit of pressure on the girth with your inside leg and a little bit of pressure behind the girth with your outside leg, Prancer’s body will make its own turn. Does that make sense?”

  “It does to me. Let me see if it makes any sense to Prancer,” Lisa said. She tried another turn. It was like night and day. Instead of a choppy, side-shifting, right-angle turn, she and the mare were making a smooth, gentle, rounded turn.

  “Nice work,” said Carole.

  “I wish it were all so simple,” Lisa remarked.

  “Well, you’re a fast learner,” Stevie said, just a bit proud of her own teaching skills.

  “Thanks,” Lisa said.

  The girls proceeded on their ride.

  “Did I tell you about Nero?” Carole asked.

  “No, what?” Lisa asked. “I just gave him a pat as I walked Prancer out of the stable. He seemed fine. He even nipped at me!”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Yesterday he seemed a little off somehow, so when Judy brought Delilah back from Hedgerow, I had her take a look. She said he was in the very early stages of colicking and I might have saved his life!”

  “Congratulations!” Stevie said. “See, you really were meant to be a vet.”

  “Or maybe a breeder,” Carole said. “Because, I’ve got to tell you, I’m getting all excited about the possibility of Delilah having another foal. After all, her last foal is just about perfect!”

  The friends all agreed with that. They’d been there to help Delilah when Samson was born, and they’d loved the coal-black foal from the first time they’d seen him. They felt as if they were his aunts, and they’d even helped with a lot of his training.

  “Maybe we’ll have another little champion,” said Stevie.

  “Any foal that Delilah has is a champion in my book,” said Carole. “Even if he never wins a ribbon.”

  “What if it’s a filly?” asked Lisa.

  “Then I hope she’s got as sweet a disposition as her mother—What are you doing, Stevie?” Carole said.

  This was the third time Stevie had left the trail and ridden Belle around a rock.

  “I’m looking for a sign,” she said, as if that explained anything.

  “A sign?” Lisa asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s in the book,” Stevie explained. Lisa and Carole exchanged glances. Stevie had a way of giving nonanswers to questions and expecting other people to understand everything she wasn’t saying.

  “Uh, Stevie? What book? What sign?”

  “Oh, right,” Stevie said. “I started to tell Lisa about it last night, but we got sidetracked with her history project. Well, this is my history project. And I’m sure I’m right.”

  “And?” Carole asked, somewhat bemused.

  “I’m not going to tell you about it. I think I’ll keep it a secret for now. But I will tell you one—no, make that two—things: It’s very close to home, and it happened a long time ago. Now that’s a history project, isn’t it?”

  “I guess it is,” Lisa said, but she seemed uncertain. To her a history project was something you looked up in the library. But it was Stevie’s project. She could work on it in whatever way she wanted.

  “Maybe you’ll think this is another crazy idea of mine,” said Stevie. “But I’ll find it. If it’s here, I’ll find it.”

  “Sure,” Carole agreed. “It can’t be the craziest idea you’ve ever had. Actually, I’m not sure exactly which idea of yours was the craziest. What do you think, Lisa?” she asked.

  “Hmmm,” Lisa said thoughtfully. “How about the time she ran for class president at the fund-raising fair while we were entertaining the Italian boys?”

  “Pretty good, but not on a par with the, quote, buried treasure, unquote, in England,” Carole said.

  It was a great game to play. Carole and Lisa
took turns recalling Stevie’s wildest schemes. It helped them each to remember times that weren’t troubled by Colonel Hanson’s absence, and there were so many schemes to choose from that there was plenty of fodder for the players. They swapped memories all the way to the creek and back to Pine Hollow. It helped make the trail ride just exactly what all three of them needed.

  After a while, Stevie loosened her reins so that she could put both hands on her hips. “You guys!” she said disgustedly. “Those were nothing!”

  “Compared to …?” Lisa asked.

  “My personal favorite,” said Stevie.

  “And which was that?”

  “The elephant.”

  Carole hit her forehead with the palm of her hand.

  “How could we forget the elephant?” she asked.

  The three of them dissolved into giggles.

  As they returned to Pine Hollow, they all felt as if the ride had gone too fast and was over too soon. Carole glanced at her watch and could hardly believe that it was almost five o’clock.

  Approaching Pine Hollow, the girls paused to watch Max while he gave a lesson to one of his adult students, Betty Johnson, in the schooling ring.

  “Look,” Stevie said to Lisa. “When Mrs. Johnson makes the same kinds of turns you were making, she doesn’t usually bother to move her legs at all. But if—Oh, see what’s happening now.”

  While the girls watched, Max stopped Mrs. Johnson and spoke with her. In a second she got back to work, nudging her horse into a walk. As she approached the next corner, her outside leg moved back ever so slightly. The horse made a smooth turn.

  The girls smiled and then waved at Max and Mrs. Johnson as they rode past the schooling ring.

  “Good ride?” Mrs. Johnson asked.

  “The greatest,” Stevie answered.

  She knew that Mrs. Johnson always enjoyed a trail ride, too. Now, the next time she went out, her turns would be as good as Lisa’s.