“Dad, I can look after myself. I’m a very responsible person. I’ll be fine by myself.” Abby stopped herself from adding that she’d been virtually alone all the time that her father had been in jail.
“Honey, I’m not going to leave a sixteen-year-old girl alone on a farm. It’s too isolated. You’re too young.”
“I could move in with Leslie.”
“What about Cody? And how would you look after the horses if you weren’t here?”
Abby looked at her father. She swallowed the last mouthful of toast. “If it would put your mind at rest, then do it. But understand, it’s for your sake, not mine.”
Liam laughed aloud. “That’s my girl.”
8
NEWS
ON A WEDNESDAY MORNING one month later, Abby was riding her bike to school. Although there had been a spell of hot weather, this day in mid-May was fresh, and she was wishing she’d worn a sweater. But the sun was shining and soon the temperature would rise. All around her were signs of full-blown spring. The riotous flowers, the noisy nesting birds, the bright green leaves on the trees. Abby breathed in a lungful of fragrant air and smiled. It was a beautiful day and her spirits were high.
Before she’d left for school that morning, her parents had called from the clinic. Her mother was working hard in her treatment, and her father was using the time to finish a mountain of paperwork he’d brought from his office. Five weeks remained before her parents were due to return.
Joy Featherstone and Diva had moved in the day they’d left. Diva was a curious, friendly dog, given to mischievous jokes, like hiding one shoe or moving her food to a location of her own choosing. Abby had wondered if Diva would get along with Cody, but so far it wasn’t an issue: Diva followed Joy everywhere, and Cody kept his distance.
Abby was growing quite fond of Joy, and admitted to herself that having her around was actually a great idea. Joy was always cheerful and had a quick, cozy sense of humour. The theatre project was keeping her totally absorbed, and Abby loved hearing about its progress at dinner, which was usually their only extended time together. No matter how busy Joy got, she always made time to prepare a delicious evening meal for Abby. Lunch became more interesting, too, with the tasty little treats that Joy would sneak into Abby’s lunch bag.
Mr. Wick dropped in quite often, entertaining Abby and Joy with funny theatre anecdotes and stories. The story of Ambrose Brown intrigued them both, and there was much discussion about whether or not he approved of the refurbishings. Abby grinned to herself, thinking how much happier and better-dressed Robert Wick was lately. She suspected a little chemistry between the two older people, which amused her.
Cody had survived his stay at the vet’s. He’d been extremely happy to see Abby every time she visited, but became very upset when she left without him. Finally, the day came for Abby to take him home. He could hardly contain himself, wiggling and whining and bumping into Abby’s legs. Colleen Millitch was every bit as relieved as Cody when he left. Having a wild animal in a cage who glowered and growled and sulked and skulked did not make for an enjoyable work environment. But she pronounced that he had been as good a patient as nature would allow, and that the leg would heal perfectly. Now, Cody was once again following Abby to school and hiding behind trees to avoid detection.
Abby had rigorously kept to her horse schedule. She rode Moonie and Dancer at least three times a week, and trained Leggy daily. She could already see results in each one. Moonie was growing more responsive to leg aids, and jumping a three-foot course effortlessly. Dancer was getting much more fit. He enjoyed working, and met Abby at the gate to walk up to the barn with her. Abby got a big kick out of that. Pete Pierson helped with Leggy when he could, and expertly guided Abby in Leggy’s training. Leggy was driving happily now, responding immediately to voice commands and steering with confidence. Her attitude, haughty and proud and full of life, gave Abby great pleasure.
She arrived at the big red-brick school with time to spare. Abby swung her leg over the bicycle seat and dismounted. She waved to a couple of kids as she walked over to the bicycle rack. Everyone was in a good mood on this sunny, brisk day, she thought, noting the smiles on people’s faces.
Abby was kneeling at her bike, snapping the lock through the spokes when she realized that someone was standing over her.
“Hey, Abby.”
She rose slowly, combing her hair through her fingers. “Hey.” She looked up into the handsome face of Sam Morris, hardly daring to breathe. His curly dark hair and deep brown eyes made her heart beat rapidly in her ears. She was sure Sam could hear it, too.
“Can I walk you in?”
“Sure. Are you going that way?”
“No. But you are, and I wanted to just, well, talk to you.”
Abby willed her face not to blush. Too late. Fire-engine red, she knew. Her defences rose like thorns on a rosebush.
“Whatever.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not.”
“Good. I want to tell you something. And I want us to stay friends.”
Stay friends? Is that all it was to you? she thought. Glibly she said, “We’re still friends.”
“I’m glad.”
They walked in silence to the front of the school. They started up the steps, heads down, arms clutching books.
Sam stopped.
“Can I give you a lift home? After school?” Sam looked at her earnestly. “I’ve got the truck, I’ll throw your bike on the back. We can talk then?”
“Sure,” responded Abby. “Fine.”
Sam smiled sadly.
Abby’s insides melted. He has such a beautiful smile. But I can’t let myself fall for him again, she thought. What does he want to talk about? She turned and walked straight to her locker, never daring to look back at the young man who stood watching her go.
“Abby! Good news!” Lucy yelled, wheeling around the corner. “Auditions! Tonight! Look! For the new theatre at Wick’s farm! They’re calling it ‘The Stonewick Playhouse’!”
Clutched in her hand was a large green flyer. She thrust it at Abby.
Abby uncrumpled it and read aloud, “Open auditions for the first production of The Stonewick Playhouse. Come one, come all.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Isn’t this the best thing you’ve ever heard in your whole entire life? I’ll be a star! Can’t you see me as Maria in West Side Story? Annie in Annie Get Your Gun? Mary in Mary Poppins?”
“I can see you as all of the above, Lucy, and you can throw in Juliet, too, in Romeo and Juliet. But what play are they doing? The flyer doesn’t say.”
“Who cares? Let’s just go and audition!”
“How?” asked Abby. “What does a person do at an audition?”
“It says to sing a song that you know, and to recite something that you already know by heart, but I’ve never done an audition before, either. That’s where you come in, Abby.”
Abby looked at Lucy. She knew with a growing certainty what Lucy was going to say. “You want me to put in a good word with Mrs. Featherstone, don’t you?”
“The ‘Stone’ in ‘Stonewick’? And why not? You know I’d be fantastic in any part.” Lucy smiled devilishly, and winked.
Abby laughed. “Actually I don’t, but you get top marks for trying. What I do know is you’d put everything you had into it.”
“So you’ll do it?” Lucy put her hands together as if in prayer.
“If I see her after school, which I might not, I’ll tell her you’re interested and ask her for suggestions, but it’s not like I have any strings to pull, and I don’t imagine she’s open to bribery.”
“But you’ll talk to her about me?”
“If she’s there.”
“As soon as you get home?”
“If she’s there.”
“And call me the minute you do it? I need at least a few minutes to get my act together. I mean this is real short notice.”
“Yes, Lucy, the minute I talk
to her, if I talk to her, I’ll call you.”
At this, Lucy started hopping around in a strange sort of victory dance, punching the air and racing her feet. “Hooray! I’ll be a star! I’ll be bigger than Julia Roberts!”
“You look more like Snoopy!” Abby called as she raced to her first class.
The three-thirty bell rang after a full day of classes. Abby packed up her books and strolled toward her locker. Will Sam remember he offered me a lift home? she wondered. She’d seen him a couple of times in the hall, and he’d hardly glanced at her. He did want to talk to me, she thought, but maybe he was only trying to see if I still liked him. She decided she’d slowly get her things ready to go, then amble out to the bike rack. She’d take a peek at the parking lot, and if Sam was around, and made the offer again, she’d consider it. She told herself to keep cool. Pam Masters was trying desperately to capture Sam’s attention, and Abby didn’t want to appear to be doing the same.
Sam saved her the trouble. His tall, lanky frame was leaning on her locker as she came around the corner.
“Ready to go?”
“In one second, if you wouldn’t mind moving a little to either side so I can get my things?”
“Oops! Not at all.”
Again Abby wished that she didn’t blush so easily. She stuck her head right into her locker to hide until the red subsided, and noisily banged books around.
“Hi, Sam,” said a smooth, seductive voice. Abby knew without looking that it was Pam. “What are you doing here?”
This will be interesting, thought Abby.
“I’m driving Abby home,” said Sam.
“Can you drive me, too? I’m almost on the way.” Abby heard the girlish pout that Pam was affecting. She thumped her books a little more.
“Maybe another time, Pam. I want to talk to Abby.”
“Don’t hurt my feelings, Sam.” Pam sounded threatening to Abby, but she guessed that Pam knew how to handle men.
“I don’t want to do that, Pam. Can I drop you off first, then drive Abby home?” Aha, thought Abby. I knew it. She’s getting her way. She pushed some button I didn’t even know about.
“It makes more sense to drop her off first, but whatever you think. See you at the truck, Sammy.” Abby pulled her head out of the locker in time to see Pam saunter down the hall in tall strappy sandals, short red skirt swaying with an exaggerated motion. Every other pair of eyes in the hall was doing the same thing, including Sam’s.
Abby couldn’t help laughing.
It was Sam’s turn to blush. “Why are you laughing?”
“I was thinking that I could use some lessons from Pam on how to handle men.”
Sam shook his head. “She did it again. She’s making me drive her home, something I had no intention of doing.”
“Your choice, Sam.”
Sam stared at her. “You’re right. It’s my choice. I’ll have to remember that and not let her push me around.”
Abby snorted. “Do you really mind so much? She made it look easy.”
“You don’t need any lessons from Pam, Abby. You’re devious enough,” he retorted.
The ice was broken, and together they walked to Sam’s truck. Pam was draped across the hood, shoulders hunched to show cleavage under her low-cut black camisole. One strap had dropped over her arm.
“Pam!” shouted Abby. “I’ll buy one!”
“Buy what?” asked Pam with a scowl.
“Whatever you’re trying to sell.”
Pam huffily slid down from the hood of the truck.
Sam whispered in Abby’s ear, “I don’t think it was you she was trying to sell it to.” Abby laughed with Sam, making Pam even madder.
“I want to sit beside Sam,” said Pam breathlessly, not ready to give up.
“No,” answered Sam. “You’re first out, so you sit by the window.”
“Maybe I’ll get a ride from Jonathon, then.” Pam winked tauntingly at Sam and ran her tongue over her lips as she turned to walk away, ignoring Abby completely.
“Oh, Abby,” she called back. “Are you competing in the Grand Invitational?”
“What? I haven’t heard about it,” Abby answered.
“It was in all the newspapers. It’s on June 26 and all the best riders have already been contacted. My mother’s doing the invitations.”
“So why ask? You knew I wasn’t on the list, Pam.”
Pam smiled. “Maybe. Fifty thousand dollars in prize money, Abby. Open jumpers. But that’s not your thing, is it? You just do the wild eventing stuff.”
“Pam, what are you getting at? Only the top horses compete in this event. Why would you think I’d be insulted by not being invited?”
“Maybe because Dancer is still qualified. And I’ve heard that you’re riding him now.”
“How can Dancer be qualified?” Abby was puzzled. “He’s been out of action for years.”
“Exactly five years, Abby. If he doesn’t compete this year, he’s off the list.”
“How do you know all this, Pam?”
“I told you. My mother. An invitation was sent ages ago to Hogscroft. They haven’t responded, and replies are due this week. The Jameses must feel that you’re not capable of showing him.” Her hand flew to her mouth in mock horror. “Oh, my. I didn’t mean to upset you, Abby. That’s the last thing I’d want to do.”
Abby could only stare at Pam’s retreating back.
The drive home was congenial but one-sided. Abby’s mind kept returning to the horse show. It would take place a month and a half from now, just after her mom and dad got back from the clinic. Should she ask Mrs. James about it? Would that be too brash? Could she get Dancer ready by then? And herself, too? Fifty thousand dollars! Wow. That kind of money would get her nicely through university and leave some start-up money in the bank. It would take all the pressure off her father. As if I’d really win, she thought.
“What did you say? Sorry, Sam, I wasn’t concentrating.”
“Never mind.”
“No, really, what did you say? I was thinking about the horse show.”
“Abby, it’s okay. There’s something that I want to talk to you about, but there never seems to be enough time to get into it.”
“We could talk now,” Abby suggested.
“We’re at your house. Do you have time to talk now?”
Abby thought about skipping her ride on Dancer, but with the news of the Invitational, she really wanted to ask Mrs. James what was going on. “Sam, I don’t have time now, but can you come by later? After I ride?”
“No, sorry. I’m going to the auditions tonight.”
“Oh, yeah,” remembered Abby. “Me too.”
“We can’t talk there. What are you doing this weekend?”
Is he asking me out? She tried to sound cool. “I’m just riding and stuff. No plans.”
“What about Friday night?”
Abby tried not to smile. “Sure.”
Cody met her as she skipped gaily toward her house. She noticed how much healthier he was looking.
“Good boy. I’m glad you’re all better,” she said, stooping to stroke the coarse fur on his back and rub the much softer fur under his chin and around his ears. “Cody, I have great news. Sam just sort of asked me out for Friday night!” Cody seemed genuinely excited for her, hopping and scooting and dodging as Abby played tag with him up the lane and back. Abby was on top of the world.
When Abby walked into the kitchen, there was a note on the table from Joy.
Abby
Dinner’s in the fridge, just heat it up. I’ve gone to the theatre to set up. If you haven’t heard, we’re doing impromptu auditions tonight, starting at seven. Why don’t you come?!
Love, J.
I’d better call Lucy, thought Abby. She picked up the phone and dialled.
No answer. The answering machine clicked on.
“Lucy, it’s Abby. Mrs. Featherstone has already left, so I couldn’t ask her what you should do. I’m sure whatever you do wil
l be perfect. I’ll meet you there after I ride Dancer. See you before seven. Save me a seat. Bye.”
After hanging up, Abby ran upstairs and changed into her riding clothes as fast as she could. Racing down the stairs she caught a glimpse of something out the window in the front field. A chestnut blur had leapt over the fence.
Abby halted, wondering what it was. It might be a deer. She opened the front door and looked down the lane in the direction the blur had been heading. Nothing. Did Leggy jump out? No. There she was, standing beside her mother as they both looked in the same direction, toward the road.
Abby shrugged her shoulders. It was probably a deer. There were plenty around.
Wheeling her bicycle out of the shed, Abby hummed a happy tune as she thought about riding Dancer. She hopped up onto the seat and happily started off toward Hogscroft, followed discreetly by her devoted coyote.
Samuel Owens was thinking of Dancer, too. He stood at the picture window in his study, binoculars scanning the path that wound over the top of the Casey property to the east, beside the woods in front of him, and into the woods to the northwest. He was watching for Dancer.
Dancer had been coming this way lately. Alone. Owens had spotted him twice in the last two days. He checked his watch. Eight minutes after four. It was four o’clock two days ago when he’d sighted Dancer, and four fourteen yesterday when Dancer had galloped west, through the Wick farm toward Hogscroft. He should be here any time now.
What the stallion was doing was of no concern to Owens. What concerned him greatly was that Dancer was there at all, reminding Owens of his past obsession, enraging him that he dared to trespass on land owned by a man that the stallion should fear. Dancer should be terrified of me, thought Owens. He should be quaking in his iron shoes.
He’d kept an eye out for Dancer all afternoon, but so far, no luck. Everything was ready. His plans were laid. He’d worked very hard all day, and was convinced that the bear pit was foolproof. All he needed was Dancer.
He scanned the path earnestly, slowly moving the lenses from left to right, then from right to left. His anger mounted, as always, when he cast his eyes on the Wick property.
Stagestruck Page 10
