The Winning Summer

by Marsha Hubler

  H-e-l-l-o, she typed and then hit the space bar.

  “Hello,” an electronic voice said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Skye said. “This thing talks! Unbelievable!”

  “What’s unbelievable?” A girl’s soft voice came from behind, launching Skye from the chair as though she had sat on a tack.

  “Skye, what are you up to now?” Mrs. Chambers chided softly. “You know other kids’ bedrooms are off-limits unless you’re invited.”

  Skye turned toward the doorway. “I’m sorry. But this computer talks! That is so cool!”

  “Skye, this is Katie Thomas. Katie, this is Skye Nicholson, one of our foster daughters.”

  The girls exchanged hellos. Skye studied the new girl.

  Right hand holding a long thin cane, Katie leaned her plump body lazily against the door frame. Her blond hair, parted in the middle, framed a chubby face and hung freely, barely touching her shoulders. Bright green eyes, camouflaging her blindness, searched in the direction of the voice, appearing to study its owner as Skye studied back.

  “Katie’s mother wants her to learn how to ride this summer,” Mrs. Chambers said. “That was Mrs. Thomas’ last statement before she left.”

  “Even though I don’t want to ride any dumb ol’ horse,” Katie said. “I’d rather just spend time with my stuff in my room.”

  “Well, we’re glad you’re here.” Mrs. Chambers placed her hand on Katie’s shoulder. “Now, I need to help Morgan finish getting supper ready. You two get to know each other a little better while the man of the house gets our boys settled in.” Mrs. Chambers turned and left.

  Katie touched the floor with the point of her cane. Sweeping it back and forth, she walked slowly into the room.

  Skye rushed to her side and grabbed her arm. “Let me help you.”

  “For Pete’s sake,” Katie snapped. “I’m not a cripple!”

  Skye pulled away abruptly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I—I—”

  Katie stopped when her cane touched the bed. “Hey, look, I’m sorry I popped off. I know you meant well, but—well, thanks anyway.”

  “I can leave if you’d rather be alone,” Skye said. Morgan was right. People do treat blind people like they’re crippled. I just did.

  “Nah, that’s okay. My mother says I’m alone too much.” Katie was already sitting on the bed. She reached into the grocery bag, pulled out a box, and grabbed a handful of crackers. She ate them like she hadn’t eaten in a week. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks,” Skye said.

  “Grab a seat somewhere if you’d like. Back home, there aren’t any other blind kids in our school. I’m not exactly in the running for homecoming queen either. That’s one reason Mom brought me here. She thinks it will be good for me to get to know a horse—personally. Sheesh!”

  Skye sat on the chair as though she were climbing onto a horse. She folded her arms on the chair’s back. “I just brought a box in. It’s there on the bed next to your bag of goodies. What about your dad?”

  “That’s the other reason I’m here.” Katie sighed and found the cardboard box. She opened it and felt the objects inside. “Hey, Mom thought we left this box at home. I’ll have to call and let her know that all my electronic stuff is here. Great!” She started pulling out the items and laying them on the bed.

  “Katie, what about your dad?”

  “Oh, yeah. You might as well know that my parents aren’t living together, and they’re gonna get a divorce. It’s my fault. I know it is.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Let’s just say that I haven’t been the perfect daughter since my accident four years ago. I hate being blind, and I let everyone know it. My straight A’s went down the tubes along with all my sports, cheerleading, and other activities. Oh, yes, and let’s not forget my very good friends who never come around at all anymore.” Katie rummaged roughly through the box and slammed the flaps shut. She grabbed another handful of crackers and gobbled them down.

  “Don’t you go to church?” Skye asked, staring at all the equipment on the bed.

  “When I have to.” Katie’s tone darkened. “There aren’t any blind kids there either.”

  “Aren’t you a Christian?”

  “Yeah, I am. But God and I aren’t exactly on good terms since my accident. He could have prevented it, you know. I kinda put him in the same category with all my other friends who deserted me.”

  “Wow,” Skye said with alarm. “Not having God on your side sounds pretty scary to me. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t go to him with all my problems.”

  “Well, you’re not blind,” Katie said sarcastically but then quickly changed her tone. “Anyway, do you wanna see some of my stuff?”

  “Yeah, if you wanna show it to me.”

  Katie stood and reached toward the computer.

  Skye stood. “You can sit here if you want.”

  “No, no. You stay there. I’ll give you a demonstration. You can be my audience.” Katie’s face beamed with pride as she fingered the printer next to the computer. “Now, this computer system has special programs. Wait until you see what it can do. There should be a pile of books to your right, Skye. Grab one and open it to any page.”

  Skye handed Katie an open book.

  Katie punched a few keys on the keyboard and a program called Kurzweil appeared on the screen. She placed the open book in its appropriate place on the printer/scanner and poked a button. In seconds, the machine scanned the entire page into the computer, and a distinguishable electronic voice started reading the first sentence.

  “How about that?” Katie’s round red cheeks sported half a smile. “I call this electronic voice Cindy. She’s what you call a speech engine. We spend a lot of time together, so I figure she needs a name. I can put any book, any page, in the scanner. If a book doesn’t come in Braille or as a CD or cassette, this is how I do my homework.”

  Skye stared, her mouth open in disbelief. “I had no idea blind kids had things like this to help them.”

  “Wait until I show you the stuff on the bed.” Katie bubbled with enthusiasm. “I have a calculator, a clock, and a dictionary, and they all talk. I even have a Braille Scrabble game. Do you like to play Scrabble?”

  “Yeah, I love it,” Skye answered.

  Katie reached over to the bed and retrieved a device about the size of a Walkman. “This is my very favoritist one of all.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s called a book port.” Katie fingered it fondly. “With this little baby I can download e-books from the Internet using a standard USB port, and I can record music files from CDs. I can also put textbooks on here if they’re available as e-texts or digital talking books. This thing has eight different voices. I like Ricochet Randy the best. Oh, this is the best part. If there’s a book loaded in here, I can find any chapter, line, or word in the book with a key command. All I do is plug it into my speaker or headset, and I’m ready for hours of entertainment.”

  “That’s unreal,” Skye said. “So you don’t really need the books in Braille?”

  “Lots of times the books aren’t in Braille. That’s when I really need this book port.” Katie beamed the broadest of smiles. “When I tell people my favorite hobby is reading, I can imagine the kinds of faces they’re making. But I love to ‘read.’”

  “Then with all this neat stuff, how come you’re not getting A’s in school anymore?”

  “Well—I—,” Katie said.

  “Girls, supper’s ready!” Mrs. Chambers’ voice carried all the way from the kitchen.

  “I’ll tell you later,” she said. “Let’s go. I’m starved!”

  “Hey, thanks for showing me all your stuff anyway.” Skye stood. “After we eat, I want to show you my favorite hobby. It isn’t an it; it’s a he, and he has a room down in the barn.”

  “Let me guess.” Katie grinned mischievously as she stood. “Could ‘it’ possibly be a pig?”

  The girls laughed as they walked toget
her out of the room.

  Chapter Three

  Hey, Mom,” Skye said as she and Katie entered the dining room. “I thought you said supper was ready.

  There’s nothing on the table but a vase of wildflowers. I’m not hungry for weeds and seeds!”

  Skye and Katie giggled as they stopped at the table.

  “I have a little surprise for you two.” Mrs. Chambers glanced at the girls while she packed sandwiches into a basket.

  Morgan busied herself taking cans of soda from the refrigerator and putting them in a small cooler. “Katie, do you like picnics?”

  “Do I?” Katie said. “Picnics are absolutely my favoritist way to eat. Where are we going?”

  “I have a feeling it won’t be far,” Skye said. “It’s probably within walking distance. Right, Mom?”

  “You guessed it. We’re walking over to our own picnic grove,” Mrs. Chambers said. “What desserts would you girls like? Brownies, chocolate chip cookies, or pecan pie?”

  “You know I’m a brownie addict,” Skye said.

  “Chocolate chip cookies for me,” Morgan said.

  “I’ll sample all of them.” Katie’s round face beamed. “In the house or out, desserts are the best part of any meal.”

  And you look like you could eat them all, Skye thought.

  “C’mon, desserts, you’re invited.” Mrs. Chambers laughed as she stuffed the basket and then glanced at the girls again. “I don’t want the pecan pie to get a complex in here all by itself. Skye, why don’t you two head over to the picnic grove. Morgan and I will be along shortly.”

  “Where are the boys—and Dad?” Skye asked.

  Morgan motored to the table, placed the cooler on it, and reached to the counter for a bag of chips. “You know he’s a picnicking nut too. He took the boys in the truck back to Piney Hollow. They’re gonna do their macho thing.”

  “In fact,” Mrs. Chambers added, “tonight they’re sleeping in a pup tent back there. Tom said he couldn’t see such a crystal-clear day, or night, going to waste. He loves camping out under the stars, so the four of them will be roughin’ it.”

  “Where—what—is Piney Hollow?” Katie asked.

  “It is so cool,” Skye said. “It’s a campsite in the back of this place. It has a chuck wagon and outdoor chapel and everything. We have youth retreats there sometimes.”

  “And meals cooked on an open fire.” Morgan flipped her hair back. “Your little ol’ taste buds never had it so good.”

  “Ummm, I’m for that,” Katie said. “When do we get to do that?”

  Mrs. Chambers finished packing the picnic-ware. “We weren’t quite sure you’d enjoy that, Katie. Your mother says that you spend most of the time with your equipment in the bedroom. But—”

  “Well, I’d sure like to try camping.” Katie’s whole face lit up. “That sounds so cool. And I’d love to try the food. I’ve never had anything cooked on an open fire.”

  “Then you haven’t lived.” Skye could hardly contain herself. “Wait until you taste bacon and eggs and—”

  “Skye, let’s take care of one meal at a time,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Right now we’re going to have cold sandwiches—without a fire! Now you two get going.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Skye said, tugging at Katie’s shirtsleeve. “C’mon, Katie.”

  “Just let me grab your elbow, and I’ll follow, okay?” Katie folded her cane into four smaller sections and stuffed it into a nylon pouch that hung from her belt.

  “Hey, that cane is neat. I didn’t know you could fold it like that,” Skye said. “What’s it made of?”

  “Graphite,” Katie answered. “Light as a feather but strong enough to take a lot of grief from a kid like me.”

  In another frenzy of giggles, the two girls made their way out the sliding door and down the porch ramp. To their right, they followed the sidewalk that bordered the white pasture fence, Skye acquainting Katie with the grounds every step of the way.

  “Hey, let’s stop here for a minute,” Skye said. “I told you I wanted you to meet someone. We don’t have to wait until after supper.”

  “You mean it’s time to meet your pig?” Katie laughed.

  “Yeah.” Skye played along with Katie. “I want you to meet Oinkers.”

  Skye stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

  From the bottom of the pasture, a small herd of horses started galloping. Up through the field they came, long manes and tails bouncing with the thrill of the run. The ground rumbled with the beat of six sets of hooves. At the front of the herd ran a smaller horse, as fast as the wind and shining like a brand-new penny.

  Clinging tightly to Skye’s arm, Katie moved back. “That sounds like more than one horse, Skye. And they sound dangerous. Are they gonna run over me?”

  “No, you’re fine.” Skye slipped her arm away from Katie and took a step forward. “There’s a big white fence between them and us.”

  In seconds, the horses lined up along the fence, their heads bobbing over the top rail and reaching toward the girls.

  Skye reached out and grabbed Champ’s halter. “Katie, I’ll introduce you to the horses, one at a time.”

  Katie took another step back. “I really don’t need to meet any stinkin’ horses. Let’s go.”

  “Aw, c’mon. There are only six of them.” Skye was beaming with pride. “They won’t hurt you. Here, grab my arm, and I’ll move you a little closer.”

  “Um, I don’t know—”

  “Like it or not, you came here to learn to ride. Well, guess what? You have to touch a horse before you climb on one. Here, reach out, and I’ll let you pet my horse, Champ. He’s reddish brown and the best horse that ever lived.”

  Katie edged her hand forward as if feeling the heat from a red-hot stove. “I—I don’t like this,” she said. “I’ve never been around horses. You don’t exactly see them in the city every day.”

  “He won’t hurt you,” Skye promised. “Just feel how soft he is.”

  Katie reached a little farther, her hand finally coming to rest on Champ’s velvety soft nose. He nickered, and Katie pulled back. “What was that?”

  “That’s Champ’s way of saying hello,” Skye said. “Isn’t he soft?”

  “Well, yeah.” This time Katie reached with less reluctance. “And fuzzy. He kinda feels like my stuffed animals.”

  “Now do you wanna meet the others?”

  Without waiting, Skye grabbed each horse by the halter one at a time, letting Katie touch each one. Finally, they came to the last horse.

  “Now, this little guy’s name is Boomerang,” Skye said. “His breed is pinto. I think Mom and Dad want you to learn to ride him. He’s as gentle as a lamb, and he’s very good with beginners. We call him ‘Boomer’ for short.”

  With growing confidence, Katie reached out to pet him. “Why do you call him Boomerang? And what’s a pinto horse?”

  “Well, he’s our barrel-racing horse. And he’s so fast, he reminds us of a boomerang going down and back. A pinto is either brown and white or black and white. Boomer is brown and white.”

  “What’s barrel racing?” Katie’s curiosity had finally gotten the best of her.

  “It’s an event in horse shows and rodeos. Three barrels are set up in a cloverleaf pattern in a corral. When the horse and rider charge into the arena, a clock times how fast the team can run around the barrels and cross a finish line. This fella and Mom have won blue ribbons in that event. Even though he’s a small quarter horse, he is one fast dude. He’s almost as fast as Champ.”

  “And they’re gonna stick me on a horse like that? No way.”

  “He won’t barrel race with you,” Skye said. “When you’re taking lessons, he’ll just walk around slowly in the corral. Just wait, you’ll see. Boomer’s a perfect gentleman with the ladies.”

  “Does Champ barrel race?”

  “No, he does other events.”

  “Did he ever win anything?”

  “Sure. He has lots of b
lue ribbons too.”

  “Wow. That is so neat.” Katie edged her body forward. “Can I get closer to Boomerang?”

  “Yep,” Skye said. “Here, let me help you.”

  Slowly, Katie moved her hands forward. Skye held Boomer’s halter while the blind girl’s fingers wiggled freely, coming to rest on the horse’s receptive nose. She felt the horse as though sculpting a piece of clay. Her hands crept upward, gently feeling the strength of his face and forehead and the stiffness of his long eyelashes that closed over large Bambi eyes. Her hands slid down both sides of his face, over his strong cheekbones and halter, and down around his velvet muzzle and fuzzy chin.

  “His lips are furry! Wow! I never imagined a horse would feel like this,” Katie said. “All I ever knew was that they were big. But he’s—he’s gorgeous!”

  “His color and markings are gorgeous too,” Skye said. “His head’s brown except for a white blaze. That’s a stripe down the middle of his face. His mane and tail are white with black mixed in. The rest of him is massive blotches of brown on white. He is one pretty picture.”

  “Oh, I wish I could see him,” Katie said.

  “Well, you can—in your own way,” Skye said. “Feeling Boomer is a lot more than most city kids have the chance to do.”

  Skye looked toward the picnic grove and suddenly remembered where they were headed in the first place. “We’d better get going. Mom and Morgan will probably be out in a sec.” She turned toward the horses. “You guys can go finish your supper now!”

  As the girls made their way along the fence, the horses turned back into the pasture, each one finding his own spot of grass to nibble. Skye and Katie came to the end of the walk, crossed a dirt road, walked over a bridge that straddled a small stream, and stopped at the pavilion nestled in a cluster of tall pine trees.

  Skye led Katie to the picnic table. As Katie sat, Skye stood at the end of the table and studied the scene before her. Her brown eyes darted in a dozen different directions, capturing the beauty of the perfect June day. She took a deep breath of pine scent and then glanced back at the horses enjoying their evening meal. Her glance drifted closer to where she stood, to a gazebo resting near the pavilion, and she studied the intricate designs cut into the fancy wood. She looked up, feasting on the brilliant blue sky, absorbing the entire scene.