Moonlight Mile

by Catherine Hapka

  “It’s just . . .” She bit her lip, not wanting her father to think she was going nuts.

  But he won’t think that, she reminded herself. He wants to help me.

  “Boo?” he prompted, his expression so loving that it melted the last of Nina’s hesitation.

  “Okay,” she said. “But you can’t tell me I’m crazy, okay? See, it all started when I decided to dress up as Serena for the show. . . .”

  The whole story poured out of her. Her father listened quietly, his expression impossible to read. When Nina had finished, he patted her arm.

  “Meet me at the entrance,” he said. “I’m just going to tell your mother we’ll be back in a while.”

  “Where are we going?” Nina asked.

  He smiled. “You’ll see.” Then he hurried off toward his wife.

  A few minutes later, Nina and her father were back on their home block. He led the way toward his car, which was parked between a van and a fire hydrant.

  “Climb in,” he said, unlocking the doors.

  Nina did as he said. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asked. “You’re not planning to drop me off at the loony bin, are you?”

  He chuckled. “Nope. You’ll see.”

  Nina fidgeted in her seat as they set off. She watched the familiar city streets slide by outside the window, trying to figure out where they were going.

  When they passed the Superdome and then the edge of the French Quarter, she started to have an inkling. She nodded as her father pulled into a parking spot just off Basin Street.

  “The cemetery,” she guessed as they climbed out of the car. “St. Louis? We’re going there?”

  “Come with me.” Her father smiled and strode off.

  Inside the cemetery, her father paused, glancing around. Then he nodded and started walking.

  Nina followed. Finally they stopped in front of a modest crypt.

  “Here we are,” her father said, waving an arm.

  Nina stepped closer, leaning down for a better look at the stone. There was no name on it, just an etched image. It was faded almost smooth with time, but after a moment Nina figured out what it was.

  “A horse?” she said. “I think it’s a horse.”

  “It is,” her father confirmed.

  “That’s cool,” Nina said. “But why . . .”

  “This is Serena’s grave,” her father said. “Your uncle Oscar did some research when he was in school and figured it out.”

  “Oh!” Nina shook her head. “No wonder Jordan and I couldn’t find it. It doesn’t even have her name on it.”

  Her father nodded. “Oscar’s research also revealed that Serena was known in her time as an outstanding horsewoman,” he said. “Apparently she had a special rapport with horses and rode better than any man in New Orleans.” He winked. “Remind you of anyone?”

  Nina smiled. “Wow. I guess loving horses runs in the family.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her father glanced at the etching. “Serena had some good things in her life. But like everyone, she had some bad luck too.”

  “Her fiancé’s death,” Nina said.

  “Yes. It’s too bad she let that one piece of bad luck ruin her whole life.” Her father shot Nina a sidelong glance. “She focused so much on what she’d lost that she forgot to appreciate everything else she had, which could have helped her through the tragedy.”

  Nina nodded, pretty sure she knew what her father was trying to tell her. Serena had gotten so fixated on what had gone wrong that it had taken her over and made her miserable. Was Nina doing the same thing by worrying too much about her recent run of bad luck?

  Nothing that’s happened to me is half as bad as what happened to Serena, she thought. Still, maybe I am losing perspective a little. At least Brooke seems to think so, and now Dad, too.

  “Can I have a minute alone with Serena?” she asked quietly.

  Her father nodded. “I’ll meet you by the entrance whenever you’re ready.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, then hurried off.

  Nina crouched in front of the grave, staring at the horse etching. “Serena,” she said. “It’s me—your great-great-great-great-niece. I love horses too.”

  She paused, feeling a little foolish for talking to a woman who’d been dead for well over a hundred years. But she shrugged and continued.

  “These days, there aren’t as many horses around New Orleans as there were in your time,” she said. “But I’m really lucky, because I have a super-special Chincoteague pony. His name is Breezy, and he’s about as perfect as a pony can be.” Remembering some of the issues they’d had at the show, she added, “At least he is when I remember to ride my best. And sometimes even when I don’t.” She laughed. “Anyway, it’s because of Breezy that I met some awesome friends online. . . .”

  She went on to tell Serena about the Pony Post. After that she talked a little about the horse show. She was just describing her mother’s Moonlight Mile sculpture when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

  Glancing that way, she realized a tour group was looking at a large mausoleum nearby. Nina blushed, wondering if they were close enough to have heard her talking to the gravestone.

  Who cares if they did? she thought. This is important.

  “Anyway,” she told Serena softly, “I’m really sorry if I insulted you by dressing up as you for the costume class. But it wasn’t meant like that. Especially now that I know we had a love of horses in common, you know?”

  She paused, as if expecting Serena to answer. Then she laughed and patted the etched stone.

  “Thanks for the chat,” she said. “I’d better go.”

  She stood up, ignoring a little kid from the tour group who was staring at her. Already feeling better, she hurried to meet her father.

  CHAPTER

  12

  NINA PICKED HER WAY THROUGH the crowded art gallery, saying hello to people she knew and smiling at everyone else. It was almost four o’clock, and it seemed that just about everyone Nina had ever met had come out to support her mother’s show. Most of her local relatives were there, along with various friends and neighbors.

  “Nina!” her mother said when she noticed her approaching. “You’re still here. Aren’t you riding with Jordan this afternoon?”

  “I was about to leave,” Nina said. “I just wanted to let you know—and to say congrats.” She glanced around the busy room. “I’m really proud of you, Mom.”

  “Thanks.” Her mother beamed. “I feel really lucky—especially to have such a terrific daughter.”

  They hugged; then someone else called Nina’s ­mother’s name, wanting to talk to her. Nina waved and headed for the door.

  She walked home as quickly as she could. She’d laid out her riding clothes that morning, so it only took a moment to pull them on. But she’d forgotten to put out socks.

  She opened a drawer to grab some. As she did, she noticed the paper bag she’d shoved in there the day before.

  She picked it up and pulled out the voodoo doll. She’d almost forgotten about it. After her talks with her father, Brooke, and Serena, she felt a little foolish about having been pressured into buying it.

  Then again, maybe it hadn’t been a waste. Voodoo powers might not be real, but voodoo was an interesting tradition—just like her family history. Maybe it would be fun to honor that. . . .

  Nina unfolded the pamphlet that had come with the doll and scanned the section on good voodoo. She found a healing spell that sounded simple and didn’t require any ingredients beyond the subject’s name and a candle, which Madame Marceline had included in the package.

  Still feeling slightly foolish, Nina wrote Serena’s name on the doll, then lit the candle and intoned the words from the pamphlet. When she finished, she waited a moment, as if expecting something to happen: a puff of s
moke, a ghostly visitation, or . . .?

  Finally she smiled and blew out the candle. “There,” she said, propping the doll up on the shelf beside her copy of Misty of Chincoteague. “Can’t hurt to put some good energy out into the universe, right?”

  Her smile faded a little when that morning’s mysterious stall switch popped into her mind. It was the one thing that still didn’t have a rational explanation she could figure out. But she shook off the thought, pulling on her socks and heading for the door.

  When she got to the barn, Jordan was already picking out Freckles’s feet in the crossties near Breezy’s stall. “Hey,” Jordan said. “I was about to text and see if you were still coming.”

  “Sorry I’m late.” Nina rubbed Breezy’s nose as he stuck his head into the aisle and nickered. “I was having fun at Mom’s art show and lost track of time.”

  Jordan finished picking out Freckles’s left hind hoof and let the foot drop. Then she straightened up and looked at Nina. “Did you decide what to do about . . .” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “You know, the voodoo stuff?”

  Nina smiled. “I’m pretty sure Serena won’t be bothering us anymore,” she said. “But it’s got nothing to do with voodoo or any other spooky stuff like that.”

  “What do you mean?” Jordan asked.

  “I mean I’m pretty sure Serena wasn’t actually behind any of the weird stuff that’s been happening to me lately,” Nina said. “Brooke and my dad helped me see that.”

  “Brooke? Who’s—oh wait, one of your imaginary friends, right?”

  “Yeah. Anyway, she helped me figure out that I was letting my imagination run away with me when I knew very well that ghosts aren’t real and everything that happened had another explanation. Like Breezy was spookier than usual because he was hyped up from the show. He stopped at that jump because I was riding like a space cadet.” She felt a blush creep over her cheeks as she thought about the next explanation. “Uh, and my pants split because they were old.”

  Just then Miss Adaline came into view at the end of the aisle. When she saw Nina, she hurried over.

  “Listen, Nina,” the instructor said. “We’re still trying to figure out what happened with Breezy’s stall and the rest this morning. Nobody’s admitted to moving him yet, but we’re going to keep looking into it until we figure it out.”

  “Okay,” Nina said. “Thanks.”

  As Miss Adaline hurried off, Jordan stared at Nina. “What was that all about?”

  Nina told her what had happened that morning. Jordan’s eyes grew wider and wider with alarm.

  “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “And you still don’t think Serena could be real? I mean, how else can you explain it? Plus you had all those creepy dreams, remember? That had to be Serena too, right?”

  “Not necessarily,” Nina said. “I always have vivid dreams during a full moon. And it only makes sense that I’d dream about whatever was on my mind at the time—in this case, Serena.” She shrugged. “As for the stall switch, well, who knows. But I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

  Jordan didn’t look so sure. But before she could say anything, Brett turned the corner and came their way.

  “What are you doing here?” Jordan asked her brother.

  Nina was wondering the same thing. Brett grinned at both of them.

  “I was just in the neighborhood,” he said. “Figured I’d stop by and make sure you guys were staying out of trouble.

  Jordan rolled her eyes. “No, seriously. What do you want?”

  “Um . . .” Brett reached into his backpack and pulled out a water bottle. “I brought you this. You know, it’s important to stay hydrated, Sis.”

  Now Jordan looked irritated. “Are you spying on us or something? Because if you are, I’m so telling Mom. . . .”

  Nina felt her new sense of peace waver. Okay, so maybe the vintage breeches had split because the thread was old and rotted and not because Serena was trying to punish her. But what difference did it make why it had happened? Brett still thought she was a dolt.

  Then he turned to face her. “Okay, I admit it—I didn’t really come to bring my sister water,” he said. “I don’t care if she’s hydrated or not.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot,” Jordan said.

  Brett ignored her, instead staring at the air somewhere near Nina’s left ear. “Uh, I came to tell you something,” he blurted out. “I, um, might have messed with your runt pony this morning?”

  “What?” Nina stared at him in confusion.

  He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “It was supposed to be, you know, a joke?” he mumbled. “I heard Jordan telling Mom about your ghost cousin or whatever, and I thought it’d be funny. . . .”

  “What did you do?” Jordan demanded, glaring at him.

  “Nothing that bad,” he replied defensively. “I used Mom’s lipstick to write ‘Beware!’ on the runt’s side in this ghostly writing.” He glanced at Breezy. “But then he rolled around and smudged it, so I tried to wash it off with the hose. But someone was coming before I could finish, so I just stuck him in a stall and took off.” He glanced at Nina. “Sorry.”

  Nina couldn’t answer for a moment. For a second she was angry. Did Brett even realize how worried she’d been? Had he even thought about how Breezy could have been hurt by being stuck in some strange stall?

  She knew the answer: No. Of course not. How could he know any of that?

  “It’s okay,” she told him, realizing what this meant. Serena was off the hook for real. There was a rational explanation for everything that had happened—just as Nina should have trusted from the start.

  “You sure?” Brett said cautiously. “You’re not mad?”

  “Maybe a little,” she told him. “But you can make it up to me by promising two things.”

  “What?” He sounded even more cautious now.

  “First, you have to stop calling Breezy a runt,” Nina said. “It hurts his feelings.”

  Brett rolled his eyes, but he nodded. “Done. What’s the second thing?”

  Nina shot a mischievous look at Jordan. “Second, you have to rent a horse and ride out with us today,” she said.

  “What?” Brett and Jordan exclaimed at the same time.

  “That way, you’ll realize that riding really is a sport,” Nina went on, smiling for real now. “Maybe you’ll even figure out how fun it is.”

  Brett hesitated, glancing at Freckles and then at Breezy. “Okay,” he said. “No biggie. Who do I need to talk to about that?”

  Nina’s father looked up from the TV when she came in later. “Hey,” he said, hitting the mute button. “How was your ride?”

  “Good.” Nina flopped into a chair. “You know Jordan’s brother, Brett? He came with us.”

  “Really? I didn’t know he was a rider,” her father said.

  “He isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t.” Nina smiled, thinking back over the ride. Brett had been nervous at first, but he’d caught on to the basics quickly, and the barn’s oldest and calmest lesson horse had taken good care of him during the ride. “But I think he might start trail riding with us sometimes now. We had a really fun time.” Seeing her father’s eyebrows raise slightly, she quickly added, “All three of us.”

  “Hmm.” Her father stood up. “Why don’t you tell me more about it while we start dinner? Your mom’s in the shower and I know she’s exhausted.”

  “Sure,” Nina said. “Just let me change out of my riding clothes.”

  It was pretty late by the time Nina headed to bed. Kim, DeeDee, and Tim had stopped by while she and her father were cooking, and they’d all ended up staying for dinner. The group had had a great time talking about the art-show opening, which had been a huge success. Nina’s mother had reported that several people had expressed an interest in buying Moonligh
t Mile, though Nina was glad to hear that her mom had explained that that particular piece wasn’t for sale.

  She logged on to the Pony Post and found several messages from her friends.

  [BROOKE] Hi all! Just checking in to see if Nina posted anything about the art show. How’d it go N?

  [MADDIE] I was wondering that too. Also, did u all ride today? Cloudy and I had a lesson. Good news? Lesson was great! Bad news? I busted my reins b/c I dropped them after I got off and she stepped on them. Grr! Good thing my b’day is coming up soon . . .

  [HALEY] Sry about yr reins Mads! It was icy here today, so I cleaned tack instead of riding. Can’t wait for real snow!

  [MADDIE] Brrr—Snow? Ice? it all sounds cold to me! lol!

  Nina shivered too. It almost never snowed in New Orleans, though she’d experienced real snowfalls a couple of times while visiting her mother’s side of the family in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. She glanced at the moon rising in the warm night sky outside, then opened a text box.

  [NINA] Hi all! Art show was stupendous—about a zillion people came, and Mom is super happy. Yay! Also, I figured out something important, thanks to a certain Brooke (and my dad, and my own brain). Serena wasn’t haunting me after all! (I know, I know, you guys knew it all along, lol!) I’m happy about that, esp. b/c it means I can go back to enjoying my fave family legend. (And my super cool pony!) Anyway, I’ll tell u more about the art show and post some pics tmw—right now I’m falling asleep on the keyboard, ha ha! Sweet dreams, all!

  She logged off and set the computer on her desk. On her way past, she paused just long enough to pat the voodoo doll on the bookshelf. Then she climbed into bed and glanced at the moon once more before closing her eyes, smiling as she wondered if Serena would visit her dreams that night.

  Glossary

  Chincoteague pony: A breed of pony found on Assateague Island, which lies off the coasts of Maryland and Virginia. Chincoteague ponies are sometimes referred to as wild horses, but are more properly called “feral” since they are not native to the island but were brought there by humans sometime many years past. There are several theories about how this might have happened, including the one told in the classic novel Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry. That novel also details the world-famous pony swim and auction that still take place in the town of Chincoteague to this day.