Carole wrote his name down. “Who are the rest?”
“The woman’s name was Cleone. Little girl with the ribbons was named Elsie. She died the next year, but James—that was my husband, James—said his grandpa had been fond of Elsie and used to talk about her.”
“What did she die of?”
“Oh, honey, nobody knows. In those days children could take sick one day and die the next, without anybody really knowing why. Weren’t any immunizations or medicines—weren’t hardly any doctors. Even when I was a child—I had a sister, you know.”
“You did?” Carole tried to remember what she knew about Grand Alice’s family. She didn’t actually remember anything, brothers or sisters.
“I had two brothers and one sister, but all I remember of my sister is her casket”—she held her hands apart—“just this big. I was four years old and my whole arm swelled up from my shoulder to my fingertips, and no one knew why. The doctor came to operate on me, right on top of our kitchen table. He cut into my arm to drain the swelling. As I was lying on that table, just before he put me out with the ether, I looked into the other room and saw that little casket. That was my sister. She was two years old and her name was Sophie, and that’s all I can remember of her.”
Grand Alice pushed up the sleeve of her dress. “See here.” Carole saw a thick, dark scar on the older woman’s arm. “From the surgery,” Grand Alice said.
“But how …” Carole was confused. “How can that happen, and how can people forget? I mean, your sister …” She didn’t know how to say what she meant.
“People forget. Families forget. We’re lucky, Carole, because our family told stories, and so we know an awful lot about our history. But that’s why it’s so important to keep on telling the stories. Take little Sophie—I’m the last person left alive that ever saw her. My parents were poor. They couldn’t afford photographs. They never had one taken of Sophie. I didn’t have one taken of myself until I was seventeen.” She shuffled through the old black album. “Here it is.”
Carole smiled to see Grand Alice in a long ruffled dress, her hair piled intricately on top of her head. She was wearing thin, wire-rimmed glasses. “When did you start needing glasses?” she asked. Grand Alice wore them now; she needed them most of the time, but sometimes they hung around her neck on a thin silver chain.
At this, Grand Alice laughed long and hard. “Not until I was sixty years old and my eyes started to wear out,” she said. “Carole, back then eyeglasses were the fashion. That pair just had pieces of glass.”
Carole was more resolved than ever to pay close attention to her family history. These stories were important.
Grand Alice went through the rest of the old photos carefully, and Carole took voracious notes. The newer albums were filled with snapshots, and here Grand Alice sped up the pace. “When cameras got cheap enough that people all had their own, they took a lot more pictures. And let’s be honest, some of them aren’t all that interesting.”
She hurried past old landscape shots from trips taken long ago, then slowed down again when she came to Carole’s mother’s childhood. “Here’s your momma.” There was Carole’s mother as a baby lying naked on her changing table; sitting in her high chair with food all over her face and hair; wide-eyed with excitement in front of a flocked Christmas tree.
There she was again, playing with John and Elaine in the snow in front of the farmhouse—Carole was surprised to see that the house looked just the same—or, a little older now, running with her brother and sister along a rocky beach.
Then came a posed shot of the children together, a tiny baby lying across Elaine’s lap. “That’s Jessie,” Carole guessed. In the pictures, the children grew up and graduated from high school and then college. John appeared in a football uniform, and Jessie as a gangly cross-country runner in a pale blue tracksuit.
Then there were pictures of Carole’s mother and father together. Carole giggled. “I’ve never seen my father with that much hair.”
Grand Alice nodded. “First thing the Marines did was shave it all off.”
Then there was a picture Carole recognized from a copy they had at home: her parents together, holding an infant Carole.
Grand Alice turned the page of the album again, then very quickly flipped it forward to the next page. But Carole had already seen the picture: Jessie, perhaps ten years younger, standing with a huge smile on her face. A tall man stood with his arms around her, and in her arms Jessie held a young girl, two or three years old, with her hair in pigtails and a smile that matched Jessie’s own. Carole even recognized where they were standing: in front of the Statue of Liberty, in New York City.
“But who was—” Carole started to say.
“We don’t talk about that.”
“But I thought—”
“We don’t talk about that,” Grand Alice repeated firmly. She continued on to the next page of the album.
Carole was puzzled and curious. Wasn’t all of their history important? Was this another family skeleton? She wanted to ask, but something in the tilt of Grand Alice’s chin warned her not to.
Who were that man and child?
“WHERE DO YOU think Karenna is?” asked Stevie. It was Friday afternoon and she and Lisa were at Pine Hollow, ready to ride. Barq and No-Name were groomed, tacked up, and ready to go as well.
“I’m sure she’ll get here,” Lisa replied. “I heard the directions you gave her, and for once they made sense.” She flashed a grin at Stevie.
“I can usually make sense if I try. It’s just that I’m usually not trying.” Stevie ran her hand lightly down No-Name’s velvety nose. “Horse,” she said with exasperation. “Why don’t you tell me your name?” No-Name blew gently into Stevie’s hand.
“That was it,” Lisa said. “She just told you. Too bad you couldn’t understand.”
A girl walked into the stable. “Are you Stevie and Lisa?” she asked. Stevie and Lisa turned around. “I’m Karenna Richards.” She shook hands with both of them.
Lisa was a little surprised. She wasn’t used to shaking hands with people her own age. Karenna, though, didn’t look like someone Lisa’s age. She was dressed in tight-fitting riding blue jeans and an elegant purple coat, and she wore dangling earrings and lots of lipstick and purple eyeshadow. Lisa had never worn eyeshadow in her life.
“It was nice of you to invite me to come,” Karenna said. “Is this your horse?”
“No,” Lisa said, “she’s Stevie’s.”
“Her name is No-Name, but that’s not really her name.” Stevie explained her trouble with No-Name’s name. Then she and Lisa took Karenna through the barn, introducing her to Starlight, Barq, and some of the other horses, as well as Max and Red O’Malley, the head stable hand.
Meg Durham and Betsy Cavanaugh were cleaning tack. They were better friends of snooty Veronica diAngelo’s than they were of The Saddle Club, but they were Pony Club members and Stevie and Lisa liked them well enough.
“Hey,” Stevie called to them. “Come meet one of Carole’s old friends.” She introduced them and Karenna shook their hands.
“Great to meet you,” said Betsy. “Those are really cool earrings.”
Karenna flipped her hair back so they could take a closer look. “You like them?” she asked.
“They’re the greatest,” Meg said enthusiastically. “Look, Stevie, they’re little horse jumps!”
Stevie looked. “Very nice.” She had never liked dangling earrings. Somehow she didn’t feel that she was on quite the same wavelength as Karenna.
AFTER KARENNA TOLD Max about her riding experience and friendship with Carole, he allowed her to take Starlight on a trail ride with Stevie and Lisa. The girls were pleased to see that Karenna was indeed a very good rider.
“Do you have your own horse?” Stevie asked her. They headed for the trail that went through the woods and alongside the creek. It was the prettiest trail this time of year.
“No, I never have,” Karenna replied. “I’ve
taken lessons for a long time though. A lot of Marine bases have stables, and when they don’t I can usually find one off-base nearby.” She gave Starlight a pat. “He’s a nice horse; I really like him. Carole’s lucky.”
Stevie grinned at No-Name’s neck. She felt lucky too. “What’s your opinion on the name issue?” she asked.
“What name issue?” Karenna looked puzzled.
“My name issue, remember? My horse doesn’t have a name, and it’s become quite an issue.”
“I don’t know,” Karenna said. “I really don’t. I guess I don’t have an opinion.”
“How about Magnolia?” suggested Lisa. “That sounds southern.” To Karenna she explained, “No-Name is part saddlebred. That’s a southern breed, so I think she should have a southern name.”
“But she’s part Arab too,” Stevie said. “What’s a magnolia, anyway? Sounds dippy to me.”
“It’s a tree, I think, or maybe a flower. What do you think, Karenna? Do you like it?” Lisa asked.
Karenna shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s okay.”
They had reached the big rock that marked a bend in the creek. Lisa pointed it out to Karenna. “In the summer, we like to have picnics there. It’s a good place to wade.
“Here’s something you might be able to help us with,” Lisa continued. “We’re planning a birthday party for tomorrow for Prancer, one of the Thoroughbreds at Pine Hollow. Her official birthday is next week. We want to do something special, but we don’t know what. Any ideas?”
Karenna shook her head.
“Maybe a carrot cake,” suggested Stevie. “What do you think, Karenna?”
Karenna shrugged again. “Sounds nice,” she said.
“Carrot cake because horses like carrots.” Stevie felt like she ought to explain.
“Uh-huh. Sounds nice.”
Stevie glanced at Lisa, who shrugged. Somehow, they just didn’t seem to be connecting with Karenna. Lisa tried again. “So, how long have you known Carole?” she asked.
“About six years,” said Karenna. “We lived on the same base together for two years.”
“Then you must know her pretty well,” Lisa said.
“I do,” Karenna agreed. “I’m not at all surprised that Carole finally has her own horse. She always was horse-crazy. And I’m sure she takes beautiful care of Starlight.”
“Oh, she never forgets anything for Starlight,” said Stevie. “For herself, though—that’s another story. Lisa, remember the Mountain Trail Overnight a few years ago? Carole brought extra parts for every bridle, but almost forgot her own sleeping bag.”
Both Lisa and Karenna laughed.
“That sounds like the Carole I know,” Karenna said. “Once, I remember, she was reading a book on horse training right before an early morning riding class. She got so excited that she brought the book in to show our instructor. Only she’d forgotten to put on her riding boots, and she was still wearing her bedroom slippers!”
Stevie and Lisa appreciated the story. That sounded like the Carole they knew too. They traded Carole stories for the rest of the ride.
Afterward, while Karenna was untacking Starlight, Stevie went to Barq’s stall for a hurried consultation with Lisa. “It’s odd,” she said. “We’re such good friends with Carole, and Karenna’s such good friends with Carole, that you’d think we would automatically be good friends with Karenna. But I don’t know—it’s not that I don’t like Karenna, she seems nice enough, it’s just …”
“I know.” Lisa nodded. “She’s not like Carole or like us. Still, I think we should be as nice to her as Carole would be, since she came all this way to see Carole.”
“I agree. Why don’t we invite her to tomorrow’s Pony Club meeting? And maybe right now we could all go over to my house and call Carole, so she could talk to all three of us.”
“That’s a great idea. I’d love to hear how Carole’s doing.”
Karenna had brushed Starlight until he was clean and dry, and was putting his tack away. She seemed pleased to be invited to the Pony Club meeting. “I’ve heard a lot about Pony Clubs, but I’ve never been able to join one,” she said. “I’d love to come to a meeting and see what they’re like.”
“We’ll have the birthday party right after the meeting,” said Stevie.
Karenna looked confused. “What birthday party?”
“Why, Prancer’s,” Lisa said. “Don’t you remember?”
Before Karenna could respond, Meg and Betsy came up to them. “Karenna, we’re going to go to the West End Mall for the rest of the afternoon. Want to come? Oh … Stevie, Lisa, you guys can come too.”
“Great!” said Karenna. “I’d love to. Let me call my dad and brush my hair, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“No, thanks,” said Stevie.
“No, thanks,” echoed Lisa.
Meg and Betsy offered to show Karenna where the pay phone was.
“See you tomorrow!” Karenna said to Lisa and Stevie as she left with the other girls.
“Well, how do you like that!” said Lisa, a little miffed. “Now we can’t call Carole!”
Stevie slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “We can’t all three call Carole. But there’s nothing to stop you and me from going home and calling her right now!”
IN MINNESOTA, CAROLE had spent a long, snowy afternoon playing board games with Louise. Grand Alice was sleeping, so Carole hadn’t been able to hear any more family stories—not that she was all that eager to listen. Despite the good stories Grand Alice had told her, she was still bothered by the tale of Jackson Foley, and now she was worried about that photograph of Jessie too.
Then the phone rang, and it was Lisa and Stevie!
Carole was thrilled. “How is everything at Pine Hollow?” she asked. “How’s Starlight? How is No-Name doing?”
“Great, great, and super-wonderful great,” Stevie replied. “Listen, you’ll never guess who went trail riding with Lisa and me today. Your old friend Karenna Richards!” She told Carole about Karenna’s visit.
“I sorry I missed her,” Carole said. “But I’m glad you could spend time with her since I can’t. How are you all getting along?”
“Just fine,” cut in Lisa, who was on the second extension at Stevie’s house. “But Karenna isn’t here right now because she’s gone to the mall with Betsy and Meg.”
Carole laughed. “That’s Karenna, all right. She really loves to shop. I’m not much of a shopper myself—but she sure is a good rider, isn’t she?”
“She is that,” Lisa agreed. They chatted a little bit more, and when Carole hung up she felt suddenly homesick for her friends and for Starlight.
“Something wrong?” asked Aunt Jessie, who had just come into the room.
“I guess I’m missing my horse,” said Carole. “I’m used to seeing him every day. He’s a really great horse, you know—he’s got lots of talent and can really jump, but he’s also sweet and affectionate. I really love him.”
“I’m sure any girl would think her own horse was special,” said Aunt Jessie, not seeming very impressed. “But honestly, I can’t see how any horse that’s just used for fun riding and that fancy show stuff can be much of a real horse.”
Carole was offended. “Show riding is a lot harder than regular riding,” she said. “It requires knowledge, strength, and discipline. I might not have done too much of it, but I did get a blue ribbon at a show on Long Island and I was Reserve Champion at Briarwood.” Carole felt defensive about her riding skills for the first time in her memory. Usually everyone knew that she was a good rider. “Of course,” she continued, “neither of those shows was quite as important as the American Horse Show that I went to in New York, but some day I’m going to …”
Jessie flinched when Carole said the words New York. Carole remembered the picture of Jessie at the Statue of Liberty. “Did you go to the American when you were in New York?” she asked.
“No, I never went there.” Jessie twisted her hands together and for a moment lo
oked confused. Then she looked angry. “I never was in New York,” she said. “That part of my life is dead. Gone. Over!” She ran from the room.
“What did I say?” Carole asked Louise. She was astonished at Jessie’s reaction to her simple question.
“I told you not to talk about New York in front of Aunt Jessie,” Louise said harshly. Looking worried, she ran after her aunt.
Carole sat back down, feeling embarrassed. She hadn’t meant to upset Aunt Jessie, but she couldn’t imagine why the mere mention of the words New York was enough to set her off like that. Then she remembered the man and child with Jessie in the picture. Could they be Jessie’s husband and daughter? Could Jessie have abandoned them in New York?
Just like Jackson Foley had abandoned his family?
AT THE UNMOUNTED Horse Wise meeting at Pine Hollow the next day, Karenna showed up with Betsy and Meg just as Max called the room to order. She waved to Stevie and Lisa, but she sat down with Betsy and Meg, and she seemed to be having a great time. The three of them whispered and giggled throughout May Grover’s entire presentation on winter stable management.
Finally the girls’ chattering attracted Max’s attention. “Meg, do you and Betsy have something you wish to share with the group?” he asked in a stern voice. He didn’t single out Karenna, but his glare included her. Max hated it when students talked during lessons or Horse Wise meetings. May looked indignant too.
“No, no, I don’t think I do,” said Meg. Stevie thought Meg looked as if she were having trouble keeping a straight face. She wondered what the joke was.
“Perhaps you and Betsy can present a topic at our next meeting,” Max suggested. “Let’s see … Stall Cleaning and its Role in Parasite Control.” He wrote it down in his pocket calendar. “January thirteenth, okay?”
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