Lucy felt a wave of disappointment. “Wednesday?”
Veronica nodded eagerly. “I plan to be dressed in my traveling clothes with everything neatly packed so that I’m ready to hit the road as soon as that sweet yellow roadster rolls up to the house. And I’d like Georgie to be on the same page.”
“On the same page?”
Veronica laughed. “I want Georgie all packed and ready to go too. My thinking is that we could make Los Angeles by midnight.” She sighed happily. “Imagine that. Hollywood . . . sunshine . . . orange trees. It will be like heaven.”
“Oh . . .” Lucy looked down, picking at the beginnings of a hole in her work trousers. She must have caught it on the chicken wire.
“Here’s what I want you to do for me.” Veronica began to map out a plan for Lucy to hint to George that he and Veronica should be on their way . . . the sooner the better for everyone. “Maybe you can let him know that Christmas is a time for families to be together and that your family won’t be wanting any strangers around during the holidays.”
“But you and George aren’t strangers,” Lucy protested.
Veronica laughed. “Well, that’s real sweet, doll, but a few days from now George and I will be living a completely different life in a completely different place, and you’ll still be here. In a way we’ll be like strangers.”
Lucy felt a lump in her throat.
“So will you do that for me?”
Lucy nodded sadly. “I guess so.”
“Don’t worry, doll, we won’t really be strangers. I’ll always remember you and how your family took me in.”
“Really?” Lucy blinked at her.
“Sure. And when I’m famous, you’ll go see me at the movie theater, won’t you? You can tell all your friends that you’re a friend of Veronica Grant.” She tipped her head back and smiled as if someone were taking her photograph.
“I guess that means we won’t get to go to the picture show on Saturday.”
Veronica gave Lucy a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, doll. But you understand . . . if I’m going to become a star, I must get to Hollywood.”
Lucy told Veronica that she understood and that she would do what she could to help, but she didn’t tell her that her heart would not be in it.
The next morning, Lucy was surprised to see nearly a foot of snow on the ground. At this rate, they really would have a white Christmas this year. Of course, she realized this could present its own set of problems. For one thing, Veronica wouldn’t like it one bit. It might put the brakes on their trip to California. Although when Lucy had raised the subject last night, hinting about Veronica’s plans, as George smoked his pipe on the porch, he had seemed unconcerned about whether they left for California on Wednesday or next week. Lucy had been relieved, but she knew Veronica would not be pleased.
Besides the snow being a problem to George and Veronica, Lucy knew it meant there would be more work to do—snow shoveling on top of all the other chores which grew more difficult in wintertime. Still, she was happy about the snow and the idea of having a white Christmas, and she hurried to get dressed and because she was anxious to check on the chickens. Maybe George’s light idea had worked and the hens had laid some eggs last night. She zipped out through the kitchen and nearly collided with Mama on the back porch.
“Oh!” Mama balanced the pail of milk in her hand, managing not to spill a drop. “Careful there, Lucy.”
“Sorry. I was on my way to the chickens.”
“In an awful hurry too.” Mama peered curiously at her. “By the way, I noticed that someone ran electricity out to the chicken coop.”
Lucy bit her lip and looked down at her boots.
“Do you know anything about that, Lucy? Or did the chickens decide that it was about time they lived like the rest of us?”
Lucy looked up and grinned.
“Tell me, what’s going on?”
Lucy quickly explained George’s idea. “We were going to surprise you with it . . . I mean, if it turned out that it worked.”
With a bewildered look, Mama just shook her head.
“Is it all right? I mean, that we did it without telling you?”
“Yes. It’s fine. It actually sounds like a good idea.” Mama reached for the door. “I’ll be curious to see if it works or not.”
“I’m on my way to check right now.” Lucy picked up the chicken bucket, then hurried on her way. It wasn’t until she was halfway to the barn that she realized someone had plowed a path through what otherwise would have been knee-deep snow. Mama must have gotten up really early this morning. To Lucy’s delight, the path went all the way to the chicken coop. Not only that, but the chicken yard had been shoveled as well.
Feeling optimistic, Lucy checked the hen nests, but to her dismay there were no eggs yet. “Come on, girls,” she told the sleepy hens. “If you like having your own light at night, you need to thank us with some eggs.” Lucy filled their trough, but like yesterday their water had already been tended to. Surely that was not Mama’s doing. Lucy rubbed a wooly mitten across her dripping nose and wondered what it would be like if George lived with them all the time. Winters could be hard in this part of the country. Last year had been bitter cold, and it hadn’t taken long for Lucy’s enthusiasm over the first snow to grow thin. She latched the gate closed and sighed. Well, with Christmas only a week away, she was not going to worry about that now. Maybe she would secretly pray that this weather would keep George and Veronica here until New Year’s!
As usual, Veronica slept in during breakfast. The first day this happened, Lucy had felt disappointed. She never wanted to miss an opportunity to be around the glamorous Veronica Grant. But this morning she realized that meals felt more pleasant when Veronica wasn’t there. It seemed that everyone at the table was more cheerful and the visiting sounded cozy and natural . . . and nice.
“Thank you for shoveling snow this morning,” Mama told George as she passed him the bowl of applesauce.
“So that was you!” Lucy said. “I thought so.”
“Unless it was your snow angel . . .” His eyes twinkled with mystery as he spooned some applesauce onto his hotcakes. “I think I saw her dancing about in the twilight this morning.”
Lucy laughed. “Today I plan to make a snowman,” she told everyone. “I’ll sit him in front of the house, right next to the porch. I want him to be really tall too.” She pointed at George. “Even taller than you.”
“Need any help?”
“Sure.” She took a big bite of her hotcake, eager to finish her breakfast and get outside.
“Chew your food,” Grandma told her. “The snow isn’t going anywhere.”
True to his word, George helped her make what turned out to be the best snowman ever. Not only was he taller than George, but Mama brought out one of Daddy’s old work hats and a knitted scarf to dress him with.
“Now wait,” George told Lucy. “I’ll run and get my camera and take a photograph of you and Mr. Snowman together.”
“I want you in the picture too,” Lucy exclaimed.
“But I need to take the photo—”
“Let Mama take it,” Lucy said.
After George returned with his camera and explained to Mama how to use it, Lucy and George posed on either side of the giant snowman as Mama took the photograph. “When I get the film developed, I’ll send you this picture,” George promised.
Lucy felt sad now. “You mean when you and Veronica are in California?”
“Here.” Mama handed George his camera, pausing to look at him with a funny expression, almost as if she was trying to figure out a problem. Then, just like that, she thanked him and turned away. But it was the look in George’s eyes that made Lucy wonder. As he watched Mama going into the house, it almost seemed as if he had a hopeful look in his eyes.
At lunchtime, Lucy carefully watched George and Mama every time they spoke to each other, which wasn’t often since Veronica was there and doing most of the talking. But unless it was Luc
y’s imagination, there seemed to be some kind of invisible conversation going on between Mama and George. It was the way their eyes seemed to light up, the slight lilt in Mama’s words, the way George smiled.
As Lucy helped Grandma in the kitchen, she decided to mention it. “Do you think Mama and George are falling in love?” she asked quietly.
Grandma dropped the pan she was scrubbing and turned to stare at Lucy. “What?”
“Do you think—”
“I heard you perfectly fine, Lucy. I just cannot believe you would say such a thing.”
“Why?”
Grandma slowly shook her head. “I think you’re awfully eager to see someone falling in love. First it was Veronica and George. Now Mama?” Grandma chuckled. “Next thing I know you’ll be having George and me falling in love. No, Lucy, I do not think your mama is falling in love with George.” Grandma returned to scrubbing the pot.
Lucy wanted to ask Grandma what made her so sure but knew that would only invite more trouble. Besides, Grandma was a grown-up . . . she was probably right.
“Why don’t you go visit with Veronica,” Grandma suggested as they were finishing up.
Lucy almost admitted to Grandma that she’d rather work in the kitchen, but she knew this would only bring unwanted questions, and when it came to Veronica, Lucy felt more and more confused. As much as she had liked Veronica to start with, she didn’t trust the pretty lady too much now.
7
So, doll, you haven’t told me how our little scheme is going,” Veronica said as Lucy sat down in the chair in the front room. “Did you manage to convince Georgie that he and I should be hitting the road tomorrow?”
Lucy felt confused. “But you were at lunch,” she reminded her. “You just heard George telling us that there’s too much snow in the mountains to travel right now.”
Veronica scowled. “Yeah . . . but I had hoped you would work your magic on him.”
“My magic?”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “I think you could wrap old Georgie Porgie right around your little finger.”
“Huh?”
Veronica smiled in a way that reminded Lucy of Helen Krausner after she’d said something mean or the way a cat might look after eating a pretty bird. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I happen to find that to be a rather attractive quality in a man.”
“What?” Lucy was hopelessly lost.
“Oh, never mind!”
Lucy stood now. It seemed clear her company was not wanted here anymore, but she still needed to remember her manners. “Excuse me, please.”
“Wait.” Veronica’s voice warmed up. “I’m sorry, doll. I suppose I’m in a bit of a snit today, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. That’s not fair.”
Fingering the scratchy fabric of the chair behind her, Lucy waited.
“You see, I’d gotten my hopes up, you know, that George and I would be leaving tomorrow and we’d make Los Angeles by midnight. I even got my bags nearly packed. And now this. I’m severely disappointed.”
“Oh . . .”
“But it’s not your fault.”
There was a long silence with only the sound of the mantel clock ticking, and Lucy was thinking hard. Surely there was some way out of this. Then it hit her. “What about the train in Flagstaff?” she said suddenly. “It might be slow, driving in the snow and all, but I’ll bet George could get you that far, Veronica. Then you could get a train ticket and—”
“But what about George?” Veronica’s eyes grew wide.
“He could come back here and stay with us until Christmas . . . or until the roads get better.” Lucy was smiling now, pleased that she, all by herself, had come up with such a perfect plan. “If you want, I’ll even go ask George about this for you. I know where he is and I’m sure he’ll—”
“No.” Veronica’s pale blue eyes turned as frosty as a January morning. “That’s not necessary.”
“But you could be in Los Angeles soon,” Lucy told her. “With all the sunshine and orange trees and Hollywood and everything.”
Veronica let out a sad sigh. “Can I tell you a secret, doll?”
Lucy twisted her mouth to one side. On one hand, it was always delicious getting to hear a secret. On the other hand, she felt wary of Veronica. “All right . . .”
“Remember I told you about my bad friend, the one who was taking me to Hollywood to make me a star?”
Lucy nodded. “The man who left you on the highway?”
“Yes. And I told you how he took my money.” Veronica held out her hands with palms up. “I am broke.”
“Broke?” Lucy thought about Veronica’s fine clothes and jewelry and shoes and suitcases. She looked like a rich lady.
“Penniless.”
Lucy blinked. “Oh.”
“You promised to keep my secret, doll.”
Lucy swallowed hard. “So you can’t afford to buy a train ticket?”
“No, I can’t.” She sadly shook her head. “I need George to get me to Hollywood. And since I told you that secret, I might as well tell you another.” She peered at Lucy. “Can I trust you?”
“I guess so.”
“The truth is, I think George fancies me as much as I fancy him. I think that when we get to California, we will continue getting acquainted, and, well . . .” She giggled. “If George should come to his senses and propose to me, well, I might just forget all about becoming a famous movie actress and star as his wife instead.”
“What?” Lucy could not believe her ears.
Veronica shrugged. “I don’t know for sure . . . but I might enjoy being married.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say, and manners or no manners, she suddenly felt the need to get outside and breathe some fresh air. Maybe it was the strong smell of Veronica’s flowery perfume or stale fingernail paint or just Veronica herself, but Lucy felt like she was suffocating. Without saying another word, she turned and dashed from the room, grabbed her coat and boots, and, thankful that Grandma wasn’t in the kitchen, streaked outside and toward the barn.
The next thing she knew, she was in Mama’s arms with tears streaming down her cheeks. “What is it?” Mama demanded as she stroked Lucy’s hair. “What happened?”
“Oh, Mama!”
“What? Lucy, please, talk to me. Is it Grandma? Do I need to—”
“No, no, it’s not Grandma.” Lucy stepped back, wiping her nose with her sleeve right in front of Mama.
“What then?” Mama put a warm hand on Lucy’s cheek. “Talk to me.”
“It’s Veronica,” Lucy sputtered. “She—she’s going to—to marry George!”
It was almost as if some kind of light went out of Mama’s blue eyes. Although she wasn’t frowning, her mouth looked sadder than ever, but she simply shook her head. “Oh, Lucy,” she said quietly. “Is that what’s troubling you?”
“But it’s all wrong, Mama. All wrong.”
Mama knelt down, looking intently into Lucy’s eyes. “It’s not your decision to make, Lucy. I know you admire George greatly. But it’s not your decision. Everyone has to live their own life. Someday when you’re a grown-up you’ll understand that better.”
“I don’t want to be a grown-up,” Lucy said stubbornly. “Not ever.” She wanted to add that all grown-ups were stupid, but she stopped herself because Mama wasn’t stupid. There was no reason to make Mama feel worse. Lucy could tell that she wasn’t happy with this news either.
Mama stood, pushing the loose strands of hair away from her flushed face. “Well, someday you will be a grown-up, Lucy. But right now, you’re a child. So why don’t you go out and play or something?”
“Do you need any help?”
Mama just shook her head, turning back to where she was pegging up a sheet. “Thanks anyway, Lucy. I’m almost done out here.”
As Lucy walked back to the house, she decided that Mama was right. Everyone did have to live their own life. She realized that the sooner George and Veronica were able to be on their way, the better it would p
robably be for everyone.
On Wednesday afternoon, George’s big yellow car parked in front of the house, and George came into the front room where Veronica, Grandma, and Lucy were listening to a program on the radio. “Anyone care to go for a ride?” he asked cheerfully.
“I do! I do!” Veronica stood up. “I’ll get my coat.”
George looked at Grandma and Lucy. “How about you two?”
“Not this time.” Grandma stood, making her way toward the kitchen. “I need to get dinner started.”
“Lucy?” His brown eyes lit up. “Want to come?”
“No, thank you.” She looked down at her lap, picking at the hole in her trousers that was getting bigger.
“Come on, George,” Veronica urged as she returned with her fur-trimmed blue coat. “Let’s go. I want to go to town. Maybe you can take me to dinner. Or we can go to a movie or—”
“Lucy,” George interrupted Veronica, “I thought you might like to drive by and check on Smoky.”
Lucy felt her heart lurch. “Smoky?”
“Don’t you want to see how he’s doing in all this snow?”
She stood and nodded. “Yes. I’ll get my coat.”
George was waiting outside for Lucy. Veronica was already in the passenger’s seat, but George led Lucy to the driver’s side. “Slide on into the middle,” he told her.
Sitting between George and Veronica, Lucy looked straight forward as George’s car headed down the snowy road. She couldn’t wait to see Smoky. Usually she stopped and talked to the pony every day on her way home from school. But it had been days since she’d seen him.
“There he is,” she said eagerly, pointing to where Smoky was standing beneath the shelter of the trees in the middle of the field. “Do you think he’s cold?”
“He’s a horse,” Veronica said sharply. “He’s supposed to be cold.”
“He’s a pony,” Lucy corrected.
“He’s probably not too cold,” George assured her. “Do you want to get out and say hello?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” George reached behind the seat to pull out a bag, removing a whole apple. “I got these at the store in town. Want to give Smoky one?”
The Christmas Pony Page 6