When Happily Ever After Ends

by Lurlene McDaniel

  The kitchen clock pointed to almost noon and her mother still wasn’t up. Her mom had been sleeping a lot during the week since the funeral. Shannon couldn’t blame her. She understood her mother’s need to escape completely. In the past week Shannon had watched more TV game shows than ever before in her life. Even her grandmother had stayed home and not come to visit, though she called daily, almost as if to be sure that Shannon and her mom were still there, still alive.

  Shannon longed to talk with her mother about what had happened. She had unresolved questions about the past, questions about the future, so many jumbled emotions. Suddenly she had an idea. She scurried around the kitchen fixing a tray of hot tea and toast. When it was ready, she climbed the stairs and knocked on her mother’s bedroom door.

  “Tea time,” she announced, trying to sound cheerful. She entered the room and came alongside the bed. “Mom?”

  Her mother opened her eyes groggily. “Hi. What time is it?”

  “Noon.”

  “Are you sure? I feel like I’ve barely slept.”

  “Do you mind if I open the window?” Shannon didn’t wait for an answer, but hurried across the room, jerked up the miniblinds and shoved the window upward. Sunlight and fresh summer air gushed into the room. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  Her mom shielded her eyes. “If you say so.” She dragged herself upright in the bed. Shannon stared, startled. “You’re wearing Daddy’s pajamas.”

  Her mother peered down and smoothed her palm over the fabric. “You must think I’ve flipped out. Last night the bed seemed so big, and I felt so lonely. I put them on. They still smell like him.”

  A lump swelled in Shannon’s throat. She could hardly speak. “I thought we could have some tea and toast together. Maybe talk some.”

  “Come sit down.” Her mother patted the rumpled bed covers. “I’m sorry I slept so late.”

  Shannon poured tea into two cups and handed one to her mother. “It’s the cinnamon flavor you like.”

  “Your father’s favorite.” Her voice sounded wistful.

  “The kitchen’s sort of a mess, but I’ll clean it up later.”

  “I know I haven’t been doing much lately,” her mother confessed. “But I have been thinking about getting on with our lives.”

  “I wasn’t complaining.”

  “I know. I have to rejoin the world sooner or later. Life goes on. There’s the business to run, bills to pay.”

  “Some of the girls have been asking about their riding lessons,” Shannon told her. “Most of the club members still want to go to the Knoxville show next month.”

  Her mother sighed. “And there’s the overnight camp-out on July Fourth. Do you remember?”

  It seemed like a million years had passed since she’d rummaged in her father’s desk for stamps for the newsletter. “I’m sure the girls will understand if we cancel it.”

  “Do you want to cancel it?”

  Shannon was ashamed to admit that she didn’t. She wanted to have a normal life again and not have to think about the dark hole of her father’s death. She picked at a loose thread on the bed comforter. “I miss doing the things we used to do.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for wanting to get back into the routine.” Her mother set her teacup on the bedside table. “We just have to decide how much we can handle. What about the show? Would you like to jump Black?”

  “He’ll never be ready in time.”

  “If you work with him every day, he will.”

  Shannon swallowed hard and glanced away. What her mother had said was true—daily, disciplined workouts were the only way to prepare a horse for a meet. Still, the task loomed in front of her, and she felt overwhelmed by its size. “There’s not much time. I can’t train him by myself. Can you help?”

  “I can help some, but there are too many others to get ready and so much to do.” Her mother’s voice broke and she covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I can cope with everything.”

  Shannon watched her mother’s shoulders shake with silent, contained sobs. “Don’t cry, Mom. I’ll help you. Honest.”

  “I miss Paul so much. I’m all mixed up.”

  Shannon felt deeply disappointed. She had wanted to discuss her own feelings with her mother, but she could tell that her mom was in no shape to talk now. She’d have to put it off until another day. Until her mother was stronger. “I miss Daddy, too.”

  Her mother cried harder and Shannon felt powerless. “It’s okay, Mom. We have each other. Remember, Grandma says we Campbells always stick together.” Shannon tossed back the comforter and slid into bed beside her mother and put her arms around her. Her mom continued to cry, so Shannon began to gently rock her as the scent of her father’s after-shave rose from the pajama fabric and wrapped around them both. “It’s all right, Mom. I’m here. Right here.”

  Shannon soothed her as best she could, thinking back to all the times when as a very small girl, her mother had held and rocked her. Shannon now returned the kindness, feeling her role in the family subtly shift for the moment as she became the adult, and her mother, the child. Although she was uncertain how they would manage without her father, she was determined to try. She willed herself the courage and strength to continue life without him, one day at a time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shannon dragged the barriers around the training ring, trying to measure with her eye whether or not they were evenly spaced. Black stood tied to the fence railing, his ears pitched forward, watching her movements. She kept wishing the summer sun wasn’t so hot. But there was precious little time before the hunt seat competition in Knoxville, and she had no choice but to work Black daily if he was going to compete. Dust from beneath her boots rose, clogged her throat, and made her cough.

  “Would you like some help?” Zack asked, appearing at the side of the ring.

  She straightened and tried to smooth the wisps of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “I can do it.”

  “I know you can do it, but would you like me to help you do it?” He climbed over the fence and came up to her.

  She had avoided him since the day of the funeral. She was unsure of what to say to him and afraid she might break down in front of him. “All right. I’d like your help.”

  He grinned. “What can I do?” he asked.

  “I need the barriers evenly spaced. Mix in the solid ones with the fences. Then stand over to the side and watch me take the jumps. Let me know what you think of Black’s form.”

  “His form?”

  Shannon sighed inwardly. This was going to be harder than she’d thought. Zack didn’t know simple terminology. Yet, as they worked over the next hour, Shannon discovered that Zack learned quickly and was a great deal of help to her. By the time the lesson was over, her arms ached from lifting the barriers again and again, and her back and shoulders felt stiff from riding, but overall she was pleased.

  In good spirits, Shannon tethered Black to the barn doorway after his workout. “What are you going to do with him now?” Zack asked.

  “Give him a bath. He’s awfully dusty.” Zack followed her to the side of the barn where she turned on the hose, dragged it over and squirted her horse. “Get a sponge,” she urged. “You can help.”

  He found one and together they set about washing and rubbing the animal’s dark coat. “Lucky horse. It’s so hot, I’m dripping.” Zack said. “Wish I could go for a swim.”

  “Do you?” Shannon asked slyly. She held her thumb over the nozzle of the hose and sprayed lightly across the horse’s rounded rump.

  “Hey!” Zack shouted, jumping backward.

  “You said you were hot.”

  His brown eyes narrowed. “I meant swimming in a pool or something.”

  “Picky, picky. Of course, if this isn’t good enough, there’s the water trough over there.”

  Zack carefully laid his sponge on the ground. “You don’t say? Well, maybe you’d like to go for a little dip.”

  Shann
on’s eyes grew wide as he crouched and inched forward. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Wanna bet?” He grabbed for her then and she let out a squeal, dropped the hose, and started running. She was halfway through the barn when he caught her around the waist.

  Laughing and kicking, Shannon struggled to free herself. “Let me go!”

  “Not till you say you’re sorry.”

  “Never.”

  “Then I’ll ‘let you go’ right over the water trough.”

  She broke loose, but he tackled her and they went tumbling and scrambling into an empty stall. He began stuffing handfuls of straw down her back and she shrieked and tried to do the same to him. In minutes, she was weak from struggling and laughing at the same time. She gestured like a football referee and cried, “Time out! Time out!”

  “Do I win?” he asked.

  “You win.”

  “Are you sorry?”

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she gasped between fits of laughter.

  He pulled her to her feet. She jerked her shirt out of her jeans and danced about, shaking straw out of her clothes. “This stuff is so scratchy. I itch all over!”

  She heard him taking deep breaths, and when she looked at him, hair tousled and eyes staring straight at her, her own breath caught and she felt her pulse quicken. The warm, dry scent of hay soaked into her skin, and in the pale yellow sunlight streaming through the window, dust danced, giving the area a hazy appearance.

  Gently Zack reached down and plucked straw from her hair. “You look like a scarecrow that’s losing its stuffings.”

  Her mouth was so dry that she could barely speak and her heart was pounding hard against her ribs. “Who’s fault is that?”

  “Guilty,” he said, smoothing her hair and dusting clumps of straw off her shoulders. “But I’m not sorry.” His hand touched her and made her tingle. “Not one bit sorry.” He lifted her chin and looked deep into her eyes. Her legs felt weak and rubbery. “Your horse is calling for you,” Zack told her after a few heart-thudding moments.

  She heard Black whinnying from the doorway. She’d forgotten about him and the bath and the workout. For one brief, wonderful moment, she’d forgotten about everything except the sweet, aching longing that had filled her. “I’d better go finish up with him,” she said, conscious that her voice was quivery.

  “Same time tomorrow?” Zack called as she darted from the stall.

  “Yes,” she answered without looking back. “Same time tomorrow.”

  On Saturday, Shannon met her grandmother for lunch. They went to the Lookout Mountain Country Club, the one place she had wanted to avoid because it brought back so many childhood memories. Her mother used to dress her up in fancy dresses and tie back her hair with satin ribbons. Her father always kissed her good-bye and called her “my princess.” Then her grandmother whisked her off to the elegant country club, where Shannon got to order anything she wanted from the gold-embossed menu.

  Now, sitting in the plush room, at a table draped with pink linen and set with heavy ornate silver and fine crystal, surrounded by fashionable ladies with summer hats and subdued voices, Shannon felt out of place and ill at ease.

  “How have you been, dear?” Grandmother asked after the waiter had taken their orders.

  “I’m doing okay, I guess. Zack and I have been working with Black, trying to get him ready for the Knoxville show.”

  “Yes, you should keep busy. Is it going well?”

  “Slow,” Shannon confessed. Even though she and Zack worked hard, she still felt overwhelmed by the task. Without her father to coach, she was experiencing bouts of uncertainty about her ability to challenge Black without taxing him. Why had her father abandoned her when she needed him most?

  “I think your keeping busy and going on with the summer activities is a good idea,” her grandmother said, taking a sip of water from a crystal goblet.

  “You really do?”

  “I do. I told your mother the same thing. It’s good to keep involved with other things. I guess that’s why I’m still working on the charity ball. It’s good therapy.” As if to belie her words, tears filled her grandmother’s eyes. She struggled for control. “When your grandfather died years ago, I thought I’d learned all there was about ‘carrying on’ with life. It was difficult to lose him, but he’d lived a good and prosperous life. I missed him terribly, but I still had you, your mother, Paul—” Grandmother dabbed the corners of her eyes. “This time, it’s different.” She twisted a hanky around her fingers. “Maybe a woman can expect to lose her mate, but her child? She never expects to bury her child.”

  The realization hit Shannon hard. Grandma had lost her only child when Shannon’s father died. Shannon struggled with a desire to cry. There were so many feelings she wanted to share, but the restaurant wasn’t the place. She wasn’t sure her grandmother was up to hearing her feelings either.

  Her grandmother stared sadly out the window and continued. “I remember when the sons of some of my friends died in Vietnam. I got down on my knees every night and thanked God that Paul wasn’t one of them. Perhaps I was too thankful, too pleased that he came home to us.”

  Shannon wondered if maybe they were all being punished now because life had been so perfect for her up until then. Maybe life wasn’t ever meant to be perfect for anybody.

  Grandmother drew in a deep breath. She reached across the table and took Shannon’s hand. “I want you and your mother to come to the ball. Please come. For me.”

  Shannon had forgotten all about the gala charity event. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to let her grandmother down either. “I’ll ask Mom. It’s not easy to think about going to a party. Maybe we will.”

  “Perhaps there’s someone special you’d like to invite?”

  Shannon thought of Zack, but quickly ruled him out. She knew that the money he earned went to help out at home, so he could never afford such an extravagance. And if she couldn’t be with Zack—well, there was no one else. “If I come, I’ll come with Mom.”

  Grandmother reached over and squeezed Shannon’s hand. “You’re very precious to me. You’re all that’s left of my son. If only—”

  “If only what?” Tell me, Shannon pleaded silently. Couldn’t her grandmother see how much she wanted to talk about her father and what had happened?

  Her grandmother stared at Shannon as if she was full of secrets and couldn’t get them out. Finally she said, “We can’t go back and undo the past.”

  The waiter brought their food and her grandmother started talking about other things. Shannon picked at her meal and speculated over what her grandmother had meant. What was it about the past that needed undoing?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The horses, in a long line, picked their way down the winding mountain trail. Shannon swayed with the gentle motion of Black’s plodding gait, silent amid the flow of chatter from the girls in the Pony Club who rode around her. At the front of the line, her mother led a packhorse burdened with the tents and equipment for the overnight campout. To the rear, Mrs. Banks rode, and Shannon knew Heather rode somewhere in between.

  Shannon had pointedly ignored Heather all day. Now that the sun was hovering at the rim of the mountains, she knew they’d be pitching camp soon. That meant they’d all have to work together to set up, fix dinner, and build a campfire for the night. “You can do it,” she told herself silently. “You can be polite to Heather and pretend that nothing’s wrong.”

  Shannon heard the running water of a stream that cut down through the rocks. They’d followed the sound for the past hour because a good campsite meant having water available. At the bottom of the trail, the terrain flattened out. The trees thinned, and a grassy field emerged. Shannon’s mother halted the line of horses and riders. “This looks pretty good. Tammy, please ride around to the other side and see how far we are from the creek.”

  Tammy urged her horse forward, trotted across the clearing, and disappeared into the woods. Shannon hoped the site woul
d be suitable. She was tired. Her muscles were sore from sitting in the saddle too long, and Black kept trying to graze, which meant that he was ready to settle down for the night, too. Tammy reemerged and gave a thumbs-up signal. The group cheered and dismounted.

  They set to work at once. Soon, three tents had been pitched—two for the ten girls to share and a smaller one for the mothers. Some of the girls cleared a small area of grass and leaves, while others gathered wood. As the sun set, they built a fire and started a large pot of stew. It bubbled, sending its rich aroma through the camp.

  “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!” Cathie wailed.

  One of the horses, tethered in a circle just outside the camp, whinnied and everybody laughed. “I think they heard you,” Tammy joked.

  Shannon tried to be a part of the fun, but couldn’t get into the adventure. Heather kept sidestepping her, sometimes casting her cautious looks. Shannon wasn’t sure how to respond so she kept ignoring her.

  After dinner they drew numbers for KP duty and Shannon ended up on dishwashing detail with Melanie and Heather. She saw no way out of being alone with her onetime best friend. The two of them worked in silence over buckets of water that Melanie carried from the creek. When Shannon’s hand accidentally touched Heather’s, both girls drew back, as if they’d touched fire. Finally Heather sagged backward and blurted out, “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “You know! Oh, Shannon, I just can’t stand us not being friends.”

  Shannon wiped her hands on a towel and stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What am I supposed to forgive?” She walked toward the edge of the campsite, out to where the horses were grazing.

  Heather dogged her steps. “I’m sorry, Shannon. Please don’t make me hurt any more than I already do.” Heather wrung her hands. “I should have come to the funeral. I should have been there for you.”