A Horse to Love

by Marsha Hubler

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Mrs. Chambers said, trying again to communicate. “But it can wait until tomorrow. You look like you’re ready for bed. We al get up at six o’clock around here, so you need to get some sleep.”

  Skye flew up into a sitting position. “Six o’clock?

  No way!”

  “Yes, way,” was Mrs. Chambers’ flat reply. “We have devotions and chores before we even start breakfast. We’l explain al of that tomorrow morning.

  I’l warn you ahead of time, if you don’t get up you’l feel ice-cold water dripping on your face. So be prepared!”

  Skye flopped back on the bed, pinched her lips tight, and stared at the ceiling again. Devotions?

  Not in this lifetime.

  “Tomorrow wil be busy for al of us. Mr. Chambers wil talk to you about homework, chores, riding the horse, and — wel — you’l see. You and I are going to yard sales and the mal . You’l need something nice to wear to church on Sunday. Let me guess: You’ve never worn a dress and don’t plan to. Right?” Skye turned her head and scowled at her foster mother.

  “Thought so,” Mrs. Chambers said. “A nice pair of dress pants and a new blouse wil do just fine.” Church! Skye looked back at the ceiling . Yeah, I remember going to church once. They stuck me in a class with a bunch of brats. The cookies were good, but the kids were awful. Then there was Samantha, the weird foster mom. Church to her was wearing a white robe, stringing flowers in her hair, and dancing with her other fairy friends under a tree somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Me at church? Yeah, right!

  “I am not going to church!” Skye said, glaring at Mrs. Chambers.

  “Surprise! You are going to church. It’s part of your court order. The judge knows how invaluable church is to any young woman. Give it a chance. You might even like it. There are lots of kids there your age.” From behind her back, Mrs. Chambers pul ed out a stuffed bear in a cowboy suit — ten-gal on hat and al . She whirled him in the air as though hung from puppet strings and then drew him into her chest.

  Skye shifted her glance to the woman who held the bear in a warm embrace.

  “Skye, I’d like you to meet Dude. Until you accept Tip and Ty, Dude can be your best friend. Now I’l warn you ahead of time, he won’t do wel bouncing off wal s or having his head stuck in the toilet bowl, but he’l love sleeping with you when you feel lonely.

  I’ve never known a girl who didn’t have a horde of stuffed animals. I didn’t see any with you, so Dude can be your first.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Skye yel ed. “I’m not some baby who plays with dol s.”

  “Believe it or not, I made this critter,” Mrs.

  Chambers said, ignoring Skye’s remark. “Every foster daughter has gotten one of my creations.

  Besides riding, it’s my next favorite way to relax. Do you sew?”

  Skye snorted. “No way.”

  “Anyway, he’s yours,” Mrs. Chambers said softly.

  As she stood, she placed the bear next to Skye.

  Then she held up a navy blue Maranatha sweatshirt

  — with rainbow letters across the front — and a matching pair of sweatpants.

  “Since you’re now an official client of the Maranatha Treatment Center,” Mrs. Chambers said, breaking into a bright smile, “you’ve also earned the right to own this double-duty, not-just-your-ordinary Maranatha sweat suit.” She imitated a barker at the state fair. “Use it for riding, doing dishes, or sleeping. It takes you places in high fashion. Al for the smal price of puttin’ it on, this can be yours today.”

  Skye just glared at her.

  “It’s a little warm right now to sleep in this, but it’s yours,” Mrs. Chambers said. She folded the sweats and placed them next to the bear. “Would you please sit up for me? What I want to say now is very important.”

  An agonizing long pause final y forced Skye to sit up.She folded her arms defiantly.

  “Please look at me,” Mrs. Chambers said.

  Final y, Skye gave in and glared at her.

  “I want you to know that I love you — we al love you — and we’re glad you’re a part of our family now.You’ve already noticed there are no bars on the windows or locks on the doors. You’re free to run, but running wil never solve your problems. If you face them head on you can conquer them. That’s why you’ve been sent here, so you can get the help you need. If you do run, I promise you with no reservations we will find you. The only way you’l ever leave here is if we decide it’s time for you to move on to something better. Until then you are our official daughter and we’l treat you that way — no matter what.”

  Skye was dumbfounded, but she didn’t let it show.

  On the outside, she stil looked tough as nails. Had she actual y heard the word love ? No one in her thirteen miserable years had ever said that and real y meant it. And the gifts? In Skye’s experience, people gave things when they wanted something in exchange. What does she really want? Skye

  wondered. She stared deeply into Mrs. Chambers’

  blue eyes.

  The woman walked toward the door. She bent down, switching on a nightlight with a prancing horse on the glass cover. Grabbing the doorknob, she turned back. “Good-night, Skye. Pleasant dreams.” The door gently closed, and Skye flopped back on the bed. Her sleepy eyes studied the bear and sweat suit. She yawned and shifted her gaze to the roses on the desk.

  What’s with the presents anyway? she asked herself. She must want something.

  Skye kicked off her sneakers and crawled under the spread without even thinking about changing her clothes. Clicking off a lamp on the nightstand, she grabbed the bear and held him at arm’s length in front of her drooping eyes. The softness of the nightlight il uminated the bear’s face enough to make it look like he was smiling.

  Pow! For some reason she didn’t understand, Skye punched the bear so hard in the nose that his ten-gal on hat went flying across the room. Holding the bear up, she waited, wishing he would cry, but the room was quiet.

  Without warning, her own eyes flooded with tears.

  She tucked the bear tightly against her chest. Those horrible feelings — being alone at night, unwanted, and scared to death — were there as always. But tonight she didn’t feel so terribly alone. She had this stupid bear — Dude.

  With another lonely tomorrow to face, she curled up into a tight bal around the bear, buried her face against his fur, and cried herself to sleep.

  chapter four

  Early Saturday morning, Skye awakened to her new

  “alarm” playing the loudest marching music she had ever heard. Sure enough, her watch said 6:00 a.m.

  She covered her head with a pil ow and went back to sleep. The next thing she remembered was cold water dribbling on her face.

  “Hey!” Skye barked as she launched herself up, scowling at a smiling Mrs. Chambers.

  “Good morning, Skye!” Mrs. Chambers said as she backed toward the door. “It’s Saturday and we have a ful day planned. We don’t want you to miss out on any of the fun. Mr. C. is waiting for you at the barn.”

  “Fun?!” Skye snapped.

  Mrs. Chambers left and gently closed the door.

  While Morgan and Mrs. Chambers made breakfast, Skye went out to the barn, resigned to suffer through the day. There, Mr. Chambers showed her what chores she would be responsible for every day, which included scooping horse poop.

  “Of al the thousands — no mil ions — of foster homes, I wind up in one with you stinking hay munchers that poop on your floors a l l night long!” Skye complained. “This place stinks! You stink! And life stinks!”

  Later after showering, Skye slouched to the breakfast table and sat down with her weird foster family .

  “Let’s pray,” Mr. Chambers said.

  Skye refused to bow her head and tried to ignore his long list of thanksgivings. Chesterfield is looking better every second, she moaned inwardly.

  “And, Lord, we thank you for this food and the hands that prepared it. A
men,” he said and then reached for a large bowl fil ed with yel ow fluff. “Ah, my favorite. Scrambled eggs, toast, and juice to start a beautiful spring morning. What about you, Skye?”

  “I’d rather have a Pop-Tart,” she grumbled.

  Mrs. Chambers passed a plate of buttered toast.

  “You’re probably not accustomed to eating a good breakfast, but you’l get used to it.”

  “Yeah,” Morgan added as she poured juice into four glasses and passed them. “I remember before I came here al I ever scarfed down in the mornings were Twinkies and donuts. No wonder I was bonkers! Sugar brain!”

  “Donuts sound pretty good to me,” Skye said, barely scooping out one spoonful of eggs. She forced herself to take a piece of toast from the passing plate.

  “Today is going to be an exciting day for Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said to the family. She spread apple butter on her toast. “After devotions, she and I are going to yard sales and the mal . Morgan, would you like to cal Rita? I’m sure you can spend the day over at her house.”

  “No thanks, Mrs. C,” Morgan replied. “I have a big report due on Monday, and I want to clean my room before I get arrested for aiding and abetting dust bunnies.”

  How in a zillion years can she clean her room in that thing? Skye asked herself, glancing over at Morgan’s wheelchair. What a suck-up!

  “Hey, how come you’re in a wheelchair anyhow?”Skye asked.

  “I was born with cerebral palsy,” Morgan answered.

  “But that’s never stopped her from enjoying life, has it?” Mrs. Chambers added and then directed the next question to her husband. “What do you have planned today, dear?”

  Mr. Chambers sipped his juice. “I’l be doing my

  ‘Home, Home on the Range’ thing today. I need to bale the hay I cut in the south field this week, and the lower pasture fence needs mending. Maybe Skye would rather help me than go shopping.” He chuckled.

  Mrs. Chambers laughed. “What’s your preference, Skye? Pitching hay bales in a barn loft or choosing new clothes and bedroom accessories. The choice is yours.”

  Skye grimaced. “Shopping,” she answered, clear she would rather not do either.

  “We’l be back sometime in the late afternoon,” Mrs.Chambers added, sipping a cup of coffee. “This evening I’l show her around the property. Skye, whenever you’re ready we’l hit the road.” After tackling every yard sale in a thirty-mile radius, Skye and Mrs. Chambers ate lunch at Skye’s favorite fast-food place and then visited the interior decorating department of the largest store at the mal .

  “I hope you’ve put some thought into your bedroom and what you’d like to do with it,” Mrs. Chambers said.She and Skye walked slowly up and down the aisles.

  “Not real y,” Skye answered casual y, trying to hide her excitement at the thought of actual y making some decisions on her own.

  “What do you like? I mean, do you have any hobbies —anything that interests you?” Mrs.

  Chambers pointed to a wal display littered with bright colors and designs. “Look at al those different bedspreads and matching curtains.”

  Skye studied the display, searching for something different.

  “A while back I saw the coolest movie,” she said,

  “and this girl had a black light and dark purple wal s with long strings of glass beads hanging on the windows. That was too cool, but I don’t see any black bedspreads here. Maybe we could get some posters at the gift store I saw when we came in.”

  “No, I don’t see any black bedspreads either,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Anything else you like?” Skye stood thinking, her mind far away, and a half smile slipped out. “Hey, I know! Mr. Johnson, you know, my last foster dad, raced dirt bikes. He had the coolest red bike. I always wanted to ride it, but he’d never let me. Yeah, dirt bikes. I love dirt bikes!

  And motorcycles — real y big ones — like Harley Davidsons.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Mrs. Chambers

  said, pointing. “Look there! That teal and beige one with — I don’t believe it — red dirt bikes. That set looks like it was made just for you.” Skye rushed toward the wal display and pul ed the large plastic bag out of a bin. “Wow, this is too cool!

  Can I get this one?” Her face beamed with delight.

  “Sure,” Mrs. Chambers answered, smiling. “I imagine that gift store has some real y neat posters with dirt bikers flying al over dusty roads. Very good, Skye. You’l have the coolest bedroom this side of Snyder County. Let’s check out and we’l go back to the gift store.”

  “Great!” Skye said, fol owing Mrs. Chambers.

  After supper with the family, Skye could hardly contain her excitement when she put on a helmet and climbed on the back of a four-wheeler behind Mrs. Chambers.

  Wow! This is more like it! Skye thought. Forget the horses and sign me up for this!

  Together they toured Keystone Stables, with Mrs.

  Chambers revealing some interesting facts that even caught Skye off guard. The place was more than a foster home. It was also a licensed facility for kids with al kinds of problems. Those who were deaf, blind, and had other special needs were al welcome at the thirty-acre ranch for weekends and summer camps. Everywhere she looked, Skye saw ramps, railings, and different kinds of equipment.

  Beyond the fences and pond were open fields and riding trails through the woods and hil s.

  To the right of the pasture, a short distance from the house, Skye saw a cluster of towering pine trees with a gazebo, picnic pavilion, and a trickling brook with a wooden bridge. To the left, behind the barn, sloped a gentle hil with a breathtaking view of more rol ing hil s, farmland, and Jack’s Mountain off in the distance.

  As the sun was setting, Mrs. Chambers and Skye pul ed up to the back of the house.

  “There’s one part of our house you haven’t seen yet,”Mrs. Chambers said. “Our basement is not exactly an ‘ordinary’ basement. I’l show you.” Skye fol owed Mrs. Chambers around to the side of the house to an entrance with a business sign above

  the

  door

  that

  said

  CHAMBERS’

  CHAMBERS.

  “This is Tom’s business, Skye. He builds and repairs computers,” Mrs. Chambers said as they walked into a room that looked like a smal computer factory. “Over in the other part of the basement is our game room.”

  Mrs. Chambers flipped a light switch and opened a door.

  “Wow!” Skye exclaimed. Her glance darted from one end of the spacious room to the other. The wal on her right was stacked with a television, a DVD

  player, a CD player, computers, and video games, as cool as any arcade she had ever seen. A Ping-Pong table and pool table stood in the center of the room. And tucked in the back was a kitchenette with a serving counter. To her left along the wal stood a row of card tables and folding chairs, and in the far back corner hung a lamp that looked like a traffic light with red, yel ow, and green lights.

  “It’s yours,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Al you need to do is ask.”

  “Real y?” Skye asked.

  “Real y.”

  Saturday turned out to be one of the best days of Skye’s life, but al those happy feelings were forgotten on Sunday when the family attended Community Bible Church. As far as Skye was concerned, it was just another painful experience she’d have to endure. In the Sunday school teen class, Skye super-slumped in a chair next to Morgan.

  During the main worship service, Skye double-super-slumped between Mr. and Mrs. Chambers, trying to ignore everything Reverend Newman, the man in the fancy suit at the pulpit, said. It didn’t make any sense anyway. Heaven? Hel ? Forgiveness?

  Jesus dying for the sins of the world? It was like a foreign language to Skye, and her mind wandered as far away as she could get.

  Of al the tortures prepared just for her, the one that shook Skye the most was the one facing her on Monday, the first day of her ten-day suspension from school: riding that beast Champ out
in the field. She just knew she’d fal off him and get trampled.

  To make matters worse, both Mr. and Mrs.

  Chambers took off work to spend the day with Skye, showing her the ins and outs of living with horses.

  Morgan had just left for school, the sun was splitting the sky, and Skye found herself marching between her prison wardens and two guard dogs off to the gal ows at the barn. What she wouldn’t give now for a ticket to Chesterfield. Her only other option was faking appendicitis, but she wasn’t sure where her appendix was, so instead she grumbled al the way to the barn.

  “Now,” Mr. Chambers said as he unlocked the corral gate and al three walked through, “we’re going to take this easy. First we’l show you how to handle a horse with your feet on the ground.” Skye watched the dogs as they took off, sniffing the ground and running back toward the house. She glanced down in the meadow. A cluster of horses were eating grass near the pond’s edge. Inside the corral she backed up against the closed gate, hung her thumbs on her pockets, and tried to steady her legs. Frantical y, her eyes searched for a hole to crawl into, but there was none. She ran her fingers through her hair, never letting her glare leave Mr.Chambers. He opened the barn door, grabbed a lead rope off a hook, and walked into the shadows.

  “We’l help you get to know Champ before you ever get on his back,” Mrs. Chambers said. “You’l do just fine. Just relax. He can sense when you’re nervous.”

  Skye snarled, “This is ridiculous! I don’t want to —

  I can’t — ”

  “We’re here to help you. Just give yourself a chance.”

  Out of the shadows came Mr. Chambers leading the sorrel gelding. Skye studied the horse from head to tail as the two approached. The morning sun bounced off his reddish-brown coat, making him look like he had been polished with expensive oil.

  Champ’s muscles rippled as he pranced, and his mane and tail whisked in the breeze. Scared as Skye was, she was overwhelmed by the beauty of this magnificent horse. Now, suddenly, her wobbly legs had some competition — a melting heart and half a wil to at least try to get to know this gorgeous beast.