by Meg Donohue
“What do you want with my horses?”
“Your horses?” I did not like the way he smiled. “I thought they belonged to your brother.”
“Of course they do, Lawton.” Bear’s voice was cold. “She’s a little girl. She doesn’t even own the clothes on her back.”
“That’s not true,” Amir said. He stood beside me, turning that knife over in his hand, his body betraying the emotion he managed to keep from his voice. “Jacob gave Old Mister to me. Guthrie is Merrow’s. You know that, Bear.”
Lawton’s lips were set in a grim line as he listened to Amir, but when he turned toward me, his expression relaxed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m taking these horses with me. I have grandchildren who are going to take great care of them.”
Bear took the stack of bills that Lawton gave him and tucked them into the pocket of his jeans. As I watched Bear load the horses into Lawton’s trailer, I felt as though a piece of my own body were being ripped from me and there was nothing I could do about it. I grew hot with a familiar mix of frustration and rage. If I loved something, Bear would take it from me.
“NO!” I screamed. I ran at my brother, fire in my throat, but it was the terrible old man, Lawton, who grabbed me and held me in his arms as I kicked and thrashed.
“Put her down!” I heard Amir say.
“Walk away, boy,” Lawton said in a voice as low as a growl. “Walk away if you know what’s good for you.”
But Amir didn’t walk away. Lawton’s grip around my waist tightened. “Now, child,” he said to me. “Don’t be too hard on your big brother. He has a lot on his shoulders. You and that . . . that Indian boy to look after at his young age. These horses are going to a good home. You don’t have to worry about them. And in exchange I think you’re going to be seeing a bit more food on your plate in the months ahead.” When I finally stopped kicking, he set me down. His leathery hand encircled my biceps, squeezing it. “Skinny thing like you needs more food, and now you’ll have it. Maybe some new clothes, too. A pretty dress instead of those boys’ clothes. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
I sniffed. “Sure, that would be nice. But keeping my horses would be nicer. I hope you’re happy with yourself, Lawton, taking a pony from a child.”
For a second, Lawton just stared at me. Then he broke into a big laugh that made my cheeks burn. He laughed so hard tears came to his eyes.
“Sugar-and-Spice, isn’t that what your daddy called you?” he asked. “I just remembered. Boy, he sure hit the nail on the head, didn’t he?” He walked to the cab of his silver truck, still shaking his head with laughter.
Amir stood beside me, his face red. We hadn’t even had a chance to give the horses a proper goodbye. I couldn’t remember my life without Guthrie in it; he’d been my pony since before I could walk.
“We’ll get them back,” I said.
Amir put his hand on my shoulder, but he didn’t answer. In his silence, I realized that it was silly to think that I would ever see Guthrie again. I hated my brother. Lawton didn’t know what he was talking about when he said that I should be kinder to Bear; my brother was cruel and bitter. My father had managed to keep us all fed and clothed and happy without ever selling something any one of us loved.
Lawton slowed the truck as he drove past us. He leaned his elbow on the open window and called to me. For a moment, my heart soared. Maybe he’d changed his mind! Maybe he’d let us keep the horses and the money, too, now that he’d seen how we needed it.
But when I ran to the truck he handed me a dollar. The bill was warm and smooth in my hand.
“Get yourself a candy bar.” He grinned at me as though he expected me to be delighted. “Add some more sugar to that sugar-and-spice heart of yours.”
The truck hadn’t even made it to the road before Bear strode over and yanked the dollar from my hand.
“Hey!” I said. But I didn’t run after him to try to get it back, and neither did Amir. When Bear wanted something, he took it. There was nothing we could do to stop him.
IRONICALLY, THE SHED turned out to be one of the few places we felt free of Bear. In its dusty corners we stored collections of shells and smooth stones and sea glass, interesting pieces of driftwood, books, and my collection of journals from Teacher Julie. We didn’t know why Bear didn’t come in and steal these things from us, but he didn’t. The freedom made us bold. We wove nests from twigs and strung them from the shed’s ceiling with fishing line so they looked as though they were suspended in air. We filled the nests with five tiny birds that Amir carved and I painted red with the old lean-to paint that I found on a shelf. Five birds to represent my mother and father, Amir’s mother, and Amir’s birth parents, whoever they were. We dotted the shelves with snail shells that we found in the garden. At night, the light from the candles we lit bounced off the shells, making them glow. We spoke loudly in the shed, filling it with our laughter. Sleeping there did not feel like a punishment; it felt like a refuge.
During the day we spent our time studying with Rei, working in the garden and orchard, exploring the caves that pocked the cliff where it met the beach, and wandering through the eucalyptus grove. We avoided the cottage when Rei wasn’t there for fear of running into Bear.
When we did cross his path, Bear would mutter insults about us being no better than the feral cats that prowled the alley behind the Osha co-op. He never said anything about the fact that I no longer slept in the cottage. I assumed he was happy to have the house to himself, just as I was happy to know that Bear wasn’t under the same roof as me while I slept. Amir and I even briefly considered moving our beds into the shed, but decided not to when we realized that Rei would notice. She’d been looking through the cottage during her last visit and had stopped in the doorframe of our old bedroom. The beds were neatly made with the same sheets that had been on them for months.
“Are the two of you still sharing one room?” she asked. “Even now that there are three bedrooms available?”
We glanced at each other before nodding.
“One of you should sleep in Jacob’s room. Or Bear should, and then one of you can take his room.”
“But we like to be together,” I said. “It helps us sleep.”
Rei pursed her lips. “I am aware that you like to be together. I don’t know where Merrow’s shadow ends and Amir’s begins.”
Amir and I both smiled at this image.
Rei’s expression softened. “But it’s time you had your own rooms. It will take some adjustment, but you’ll get used to it. In fact, I’m sure you’ll soon be very happy to have your own space. A little privacy is good for everyone.”
“But—” I began.
“Rei’s right,” Amir said. “Do you want to move into your dad’s room or should I?”
When Rei walked toward the kitchen table, leaving us to discuss it, Amir whispered, “It doesn’t matter what room we pretend to sleep in, does it?”
I nodded, but Rei glanced back at us as we whispered together, and the look on her face worried me.
A FEW DAYS after that conversation with Rei, we were returning from a swim in the ocean when we noticed that the shed door was open. We had been careful to keep the door closed ever since the day that an opossum had found his way inside. Now, the sight of the open door sent a tremor of apprehension through me. We ran toward the shed but stopped short when Rei appeared in the door.
“Merrow! Amir!”
Her arms were crossed over her chest. We walked to her, our shoes scraping the dusty ground. She gestured at the blankets and pillows that were rolled into a pile in the middle of the shed. The nests of red birds spun in the sunlight that fell from the open door.
“What am I seeing?” she asked. “Because I feel as though I am seeing your bedroom.”
I looked down and kicked at the ground.
“We slept out here last night,” Amir said. “The house was too hot, so we thought we’d try the shed. It was my idea.”
Rei studied him. “Oh, Amir. Those big, soulfu
l eyes. You are a quick thinker but a bad liar.” She put her hand under his chin and lifted his head so that he had to look at her. They were the same height, I realized. When had that happened?
“Why are you sleeping out here?”
Amir held Rei’s gaze, but I could see by the set of his jaw that he would not answer. When she looked at me, I pressed my lips together, imitating Amir.
“What will I do with you?” She shook her head. “It weighs on me, the two of you out here, so isolated. And now I find you are sleeping in the shed! You are children. Your father would be furious with Bear . . . and with me, for allowing this to happen right under my nose. No. No, I cannot allow it to continue.”
She turned and began to stride toward the cottage. “Bear!” she called. “Bear, where are you?”
Rei was angrier than I’d ever seen her—angrier even than she’d been the day months earlier when Bear had threatened to send Amir away. When I looked at Amir, I was startled to see how pale he’d become. He was frightened. He looked more scared of what Rei was about to do than he had ever been of Bear. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it and he gave me a grateful, sad look. He did not have to tell me what he was thinking; I could read it on his face. He thought he would be forced to leave Horseshoe Cliff, the home he loved. He thought we were about to be separated. I dropped his hand and ran after Rei.
“Please don’t talk to Bear,” I cried, throwing my arms around her. I buried my face in her neck. “Please! We’ll sleep in the cottage from now on. We’ll sleep in separate rooms. We’ll be good.”
At this, Rei laughed. “Don’t you start lying to me, too,” she said. I breathed out, relieved. I could see in Rei’s eyes that my plea was working. She stroked my hair, her fingers sticking in its many knots. Her expression turned serious again.
“I need to know the truth, Merrow. Has Bear hurt you?”
“No,” I answered quickly. “He ignores us.” It was half true, at least. Bear ignored us right up until the moment that he hurt us. But he was drunk most of the time, and this made him slow. Of course, the drinking also stoked his rage, and one time he’d shoved Amir so hard that Amir’s back ended up covered with bruises that looked like gathering storm clouds. You’re nothing, he’d said to Amir that night. You’re nobody.
“Ignores you,” Rei echoed, doubtful. “And you’re getting enough to eat? You don’t look like it.” She looked over at Amir. “Neither of you do.”
I hesitated. We had not seen an increase in food after Bear sold our horses, but Bear did now have a television on his nightstand. He watched it for hours each day. On the rare occasion that Bear worked in the orchard, we snuck into his room and turned it on. I had never watched television before. Days of Our Lives mesmerized me. All of those beautiful, devious women with their shiny hair and sharp tongues; the men with smooth faces and bright white shirts. Once, President Clinton was on the television, looking right at me as he spoke. And the commercials! I’d never known there was so much to buy.
Amir was less impressed by the TV. Or maybe he just didn’t like being in Bear’s room, which smelled of sweaty sheets and beer and stagnant air. Turn it off, he would say. Let’s go for a swim. I imagined that he’d seen enough of the world—India, New York—that the stories the television offered did not impress him. Unlike Amir, I was terribly excited by the glimpses into other lives that television offered. President Clinton and the women of Days of Our Lives began to appear in my dreams nearly as often as my father and mother did.
“Well,” I told Rei after some thought, “we’re still grieving Dad, you know. That sort of sadness doesn’t leave much room for an appetite.”
“You seem to feel just fine when you’re gobbling up the meals I bring on school days.”
“But that’s because you’re such a good cook, Rei! I could have a horrible stomach bug and be throwing up and shitting at the same time and I’d still want to eat whatever you brought!”
Amir snorted with laughter. Rei wrinkled her nose. “You should not use that kind of language, Merrow.”
It was difficult to keep my face solemn when I had a clear view of Amir’s delight, but I managed as best I could. “I got excited thinking about your cooking.”
Rei sighed. “I won’t say anything to Bear if you promise that you will tell me if he ever treats you poorly. And I need you both to sleep in the house, in separate rooms, from now on.”
Amir and I nodded.
“You have our word,” Amir said. I looked at him. Lies came easily to both of us, it seemed.
Rei studied him. “Do not let this one be a bad influence on you, Amir. I know you share everything, but there is no need to share her mischief. You have a wise heart. I have always seen it.”
I was surprised to see Amir’s cheeks turn pink.
“You are two people, not one,” Rei continued. “Beware if you begin to hear thoughts in your head that do not speak in your voice.”
“Like a ghost?” Amir asked.
“No. Not like a ghost.” Rei threw her hands in the air as though she were giving up. “Let’s go sit on the porch for your lessons. I brought some books on Native American pottery that I think you’ll both like.”
My mood instantly lifted. Rei, we had learned recently, had not been an elementary school teacher in Japan as I had always believed, but a professor of art at a university. I found the fifth-grade worksheets from the homeschooling curriculum she had acquired fairly dull, but Rei’s lessons sprang to life when she supplemented them with her knowledge of the history of art.
As we walked up the porch steps, she touched each of our shoulders. “I am glad you have each other,” she said, her voice more gentle than before. “My parents, in Japan, lived through great hardship that they would not have survived had they not had each other. They looked nothing alike, but you could not look at one without seeing the other. They shared something that showed on their faces. There was a special energy between them, joining them. Even when my father died, from a heart attack at far too young an age, I saw him for years in my mother. I felt his presence when I was with her.”
I stared at Rei, thrilled. “So your father was a ghost!”
“No. A ghost is troublesome. This was a haunting, maybe, but a happy one. A welcome one. A love that runs that deep cannot simply disappear. It lives on. It has power.”
On the porch, we each settled into our usual chairs.
“What am I trying to tell you?” Rei thought for a moment. “Only that I believe this friendship the two of you share will give you comfort for your entire lives. Even—maybe especially—when your futures take different paths and you find that you are no longer together.”
Amir and I looked at each other. I knew what he was thinking because I was thinking it, too: Rei meant well, but she was wrong. We had been left by too many loved ones; we would never inflict that pain on each other. Already, I heard Amir’s voice in my mind when he wasn’t speaking, just as I knew he heard mine. In the shed at night when it was very cold, we huddled close under the gaze of the red birds we had made together, and I would drift to sleep unsure whose breath I heard so steady and sure, his or mine.
We would never be apart.
Chapter Eight
Pal’s spirits returned moments after Bear kicked him that night in the bedroom I had shared with Amir, but he was never as physically strong again. By the time I was fourteen and Pal nine, he had the stiff gait of an older dog. He was hesitant to follow Amir and me down to the beach, a place he had once loved as much as I did. The rocky path along the cliff bothered his old injury, as did the shell-strewn sand. Amir and I had learned to ask Pal to wait at the chicken coop while we visited the cove. There he would busy himself with protecting the hens—a grave insult that infuriated our rooster, Crosby, who believed himself the only protector the hens required.
Late one sunny morning, we left Pal at the coop and walked down to the beach. Two knives glinted in the basket that hung from my fist. Rei had recently given us a bottle of sesame oi
l and told us that it was delicious drizzled over cooked seaweed. As we walked down the path that cut into the cliff, I was happy to see that the rocks exposed by the retreating tide were covered with the deep-red fronds of grapestone.
We kicked off our shoes at the bottom of the path and made our way out to where the warm sand became wet and cold below our feet. Our knives cut easily through the gleaming tongues of seaweed. It was the sort of glorious, sun-soaked day that demanded I still my knife every few minutes and simply look around. From the top of the bluff you could see the curve of cliffs for miles in either direction, but down at the water’s edge the only cliffs visible were the arms of the cove that stretched out on either side of us, carved by the pounding of the ocean so that they rose in a tenuous golden arc toward the sky. My father used to tell me that each touch from the sea, even one as soft as an exhaled breath, forever changed not only the land, but the shape of the sea itself. True love’s embrace, my father called it. Ever-changing. Eternal.
When our basket was full, we stretched out on the warm, dry sand. Amir had taken off his shirt while we had worked. His brown shoulders were broad now but still bony, his torso narrow but strong. I knew his body as well as he knew mine. I was aware of how his body had changed, just as I knew he was aware of my own changes—namely, my breasts, which I caught his gaze lingering on from time to time. I knew the white flecks on his hands were nicks from his whittling knife. And I knew the trail of bruises on his upper arm were the exact thickness of Bear’s fingers. He had grabbed Amir the night before, pulling him up from his seat and then shoving him to the ground.
You’re disgusting, Bear had said, spitting and thankfully missing Amir. Dad would be disgusted by the two of you.
We had not been doing anything more than sitting on the steps of the back porch together. I was reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Amir was bent over his geometry workbook. Still, even as I read, I felt acutely aware of every movement Amir made, no matter how small. Heat spread across my skin each time a part of his body grazed a part of mine. Our feelings for each other were changing along with our bodies. There were moments when he would look up from his notebook and smile almost shyly at me, and the question in his chocolate, black-rimmed eyes would make me aware of an answer that was buried deep within me.
