“It’s fine,” Carole replied politely, lowering her scraper and wiping her brow. Despite the cool, crisp fall weather, the hard work was keeping her warm. “Very interesting.”
Dr. Durbin laughed. “Don’t give me that. Picking up other people’s garbage isn’t anybody’s idea of a party. But it’s got to be done, and that’s why we do it.”
“Um, right,” Carole said. She glanced over at several neighborhood residents, who were helping Craig carry off some overstuffed garbage bags. Nearby, a small group of teenagers were talking and laughing loudly as they scraped gum off a couple of the park’s benches. One of them had brought a portable CD player, which was adding to the general din. Dr. Durbin might not think it was a party, but the people who lived in the neighborhood of the park seemed to be turning it into one. More than a dozen locals had come out to help so far that day, some staying for just a few minutes and others putting in long hours of work along with the Hometown Hope volunteers.
But there was one local resident Carole couldn’t help looking for. So far she hadn’t seen any sign of Ben, but that didn’t stop her from checking out each newcomer and passerby to see if it was him.
Like there’s any chance he’d be hanging around here, she thought as Dr. Durbin leaned over to flick a large paint chip off the seesaw’s wooden handle. I’m sure he’s over at Pine Hollow right now, putting in a few extra hours on his day off, as usual.
“In any case, that’s what Hometown Hope is all about,” Dr. Durbin said, obviously not noticing Carole’s distraction. “Making things better however we can.”
“Uh-huh.” Just then Carole saw a group of children crossing the street and heading toward the park. She recognized most of them from the day before. However, the little girl with the dark eyes wasn’t among them, and Carole found herself oddly disappointed. There was something about that little girl …
“Excuse me a minute,” she told Dr. Durbin. “Um, I want to go say hi to those kids.” She hurried toward them.
They gazed at her cautiously as she approached. “Who are you?” said a skinny boy wearing a faded Washington Redskins T-shirt.
“My name’s Carole,” Carole replied with a smile. “I saw you guys here yesterday, so I thought I’d come say hi. Do you live around here?”
Several of the children nodded, while the others just continued to stare at her. “I live in that green house,” a girl with glasses volunteered, pointing across the street at a tired-looking but neatly maintained single-family house on a tiny lot.
“That looks like a nice house.” Carole smiled at her, then glanced around at the others. “But one of you is missing,” she went on. “Where is she?”
“Where’s who?” the skinny boy asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You know, your friend who was with you yesterday,” Carole prompted. She held up one hand. “She’s about this tall, with curly dark hair.…”
Another little boy’s eyes lit up. “Oh!” he said. “You mean Zani. She’s not here.”
A girl with freckles nodded solemnly. “Zani can’t play as much ever since her gramps hurt his leg.”
“That’s too bad,” Carole said. “How did her gramps get hurt?”
Before the kids could answer, Carole spied another figure walking across the street in their direction. With a gasp, she recognized Ben. Suddenly all the embarrassment, confusion, and pain of the Saturday two weeks before flooded back, as fresh and raw as if it had just happened.
The children were talking again, but she hardly heard them. Time seemed to slide into some kind of weird slow motion as she watched Ben approach the park, his dark eyes on the ground, a shock of dark hair falling forward over his face. Carole was so startled to see him in the flesh, even after her earlier thoughts, that it took her a moment to notice that he was holding the little dark-eyed girl—Zani—by the hand.
Huh? Carole thought blankly, not comprehending what she was seeing. What’s he doing with her? Then she recalled the time she’d followed Ben home and seen that tired-looking old man in the yard. At the time, she’d assumed that the old man was Ben’s grandfather. Could he also be the “gramps” the kids were talking about? Could Ben and Zani be siblings?
He never mentioned having any brothers or sisters, Carole thought, her gaze still glued to Ben, who hadn’t looked up long enough to notice her. Then again, Ben doesn’t mention a whole lot that doesn’t have to do with horses.
Just then Ben finally glanced ahead and noticed the activity at the park. He stopped in the middle of the street, frowning and looking surprised and almost angry. His dark eyes swept the place, and he looked undecided as Zani tugged at his hand, trying to move him toward her friends.
Before she knew what she was doing, Carole took a step in their direction. Maybe this was her chance to talk to him—to find out what was going on between them. In fact, it could be her only chance.
Feeling nervous but determined, she took a deep breath and another step. But at that moment Ben suddenly moved again. He turned abruptly on his heel and strode back across the street in the direction he’d come, dragging Zani along beside him.
Carole stood stock-still, her face flaming. Had Ben seen her? She thought she’d seen his gaze flicker toward her just before he’d turned and left. But if that was true …
She couldn’t finish the thought. Her breath was coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her head spun, and for a second she was genuinely afraid she might pass out.
“Hey, Carole,” Lionel called at that moment, hurrying toward her with a hammer in his hand. “Could you help us out over here for a sec? We can’t get this board in position—we need one more person to help hold it.”
Carole couldn’t seem to get her mouth and brain working together well enough to respond. She couldn’t even manage to turn and look at Lionel. Instead, she whirled around and raced toward the far side of the park where the vans were parked, ignoring his surprised calls. Seconds later she was behind one of the big white vehicles, her back pressed to its cool, hard side. Her shoulders heaving, she did her best to regain control of herself. But it was a long time before her hands stopped shaking enough for her to return to work.
“Another thing for you to consider, Lisa,” Mr. Atwood said as he took his place at the kitchen table between his wife and Lily. “What about the cost of keeping a car at college with you? You wouldn’t need one at most of the other schools on your list, but I assume you would probably want one at NVU. Have you thought about that extra cost?”
Lisa bit back a sigh as she slipped her napkin onto her lap and picked up her fork. Couldn’t her father let his lecture rest, even during dinner? “Yes, as a matter of fact I have. Was the grocery store crowded today, Evelyn?” she asked, pointedly changing the subject.
“Not too bad,” Evelyn replied lightly with a worried glance at Mr. Atwood. “I guess everybody’s saving their Thanksgiving shopping till the last minute. Or maybe they did it already. It takes all kinds, I guess, right?”
Lisa recognized that her stepmother was babbling, and she guessed that she hated the thought of spending another meal listening to her husband’s nonstop college lecture almost as much as Lisa did. So then why doesn’t she tell Dad to ease up? Lisa thought with a flash of irritation. I mean, would it kill her to back me up a little once in a while?
At that moment there was a knock on the door. “Anybody home?” her brother’s voice called from the front of the house.
Mr. Atwood almost choked on the water he was sipping. “Peter?” he cried in disbelief. Hopping up from his seat, he hurried toward the doorway. “Son? Is that you?”
Peter appeared in the doorway just in time to meet his father heading out. “Dad!” he cried with a grin, clapping Mr. Atwood on the back. “Surprise!”
Lisa pushed back her chair with a smile as her father grabbed her brother’s hand and pumped it up and down, almost sputtering as he tried to figure out what was going on. I don’t blame him, she thought. If I didn’t already know he was coming, I�
�d probably be acting like Daffy Duck right now myself.
She walked over, giving her father and brother a moment to finish their greeting. While she waited for her turn, she drank in the sight of her brother. She hadn’t seen him since the previous Christmas, but as always, his face was so familiar that it was almost eerie. Peter had their father’s straight, thin brown hair and their mother’s aquiline nose and wide-set brown eyes. His fingers were long and finely boned, just like Lisa’s own.
I can’t believe he’s really here, she thought. Talk about a pleasant surprise! Not to mention perfect timing as a handy distraction.
She pushed aside all thoughts of college and never-ending lectures as her brother turned to her. Stepping toward her for a hug, Peter winked. “Thanks for not blowing the surprise, sis,” he murmured into her hair as he squeezed her tight.
“No problem,” Lisa whispered back.
After greeting Evelyn politely and stooping down long enough to kiss Lily on the forehead, Peter stepped back and waved his hand at someone who had just opened the front door and walked into the hallway. “Now, before you start asking all kinds of questions about why I’m here, please allow me to introduce someone,” he said.
Lisa looked at her brother in surprise. I didn’t know anyone was with him, she thought. He didn’t mention anything like that on the phone. Maybe it’s one of those movie producers I was daydreaming about earlier.…
But the woman who stepped into the room in response to Peter’s wave didn’t look like a movie producer. In fact, she looked an awful lot like a rider. Her smooth, coffee-colored hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail at the nape of her neck, and she was wearing jodhpurs and a long-sleeved white shirt. Her pale blue eyes, the most noticeable feature in her tanned, unsmiling face, swept the room, taking them all in. Lisa thought the woman must be somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties, making her just a few years older than Peter.
“Greta, I’d like you to meet my family,” Peter announced, gesturing to them each in turn. “This is my father, Richard Atwood, and his wife, Evelyn. That’s my little sister, Lisa, over there. And of course, my even littler half sister, Lily.”
“Guten Tag,” Greta said. “Hello.”
Judging by the German, Greta wasn’t a local producer. She must have come with Peter from Switzerland, where German was one of the four main languages. But why was she here? For that matter, why was Peter here? Lisa was starting to get the impression that this wasn’t just an impromptu Thanksgiving visit.
Peter glanced around at his family and took a deep breath. Then, putting one hand around Greta’s shoulders, he smiled rather nervously. “Family, I’d like you to meet Greta. Greta Atwood.”
Lisa frowned. For one crazy moment, she thought maybe Peter had discovered some long-lost cousin over in Europe.
Then another possibility hit her with the force of a freight train. Judging by her father’s loud gasp, she guessed he’d just had the same thought. “Greta Atwood,” Mr. Atwood repeated. “What do you mean? You two aren’t—”
“Yep!” Peter replied, pulling Greta a little closer. “We made it official day before yesterday when we flew into Las Vegas. We’re married!”
“Married,” Lisa repeated numbly, staring from her brother to the stranger by his side and then back again. She vaguely noticed that Greta still hadn’t cracked a smile, though she did look interested in the family’s reactions. “You’re serious? You’re married?”
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, and all that good stuff,” Peter replied with strained cheerfulness. “So, what do you think? Aren’t you going to congratulate us?”
“Congratulations,” Evelyn said politely. “Um, you’ll have to excuse us, Peter—er, and Greta. I think we’re all a little taken aback by this.”
Mr. Atwood didn’t speak. Lisa didn’t have to try to imagine how stunned he was. She was feeling the same way herself.
Peter cleared his throat and took a step farther into the room, pulling Greta with him. “Hey, listen, sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he said. “I mean, it was really kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? We didn’t plan to elope or anything. But when Greta told me she was coming to the States for business—” He glanced at Lisa. “By the way, she’s a horse broker. She’s bought and sold horses for all kinds of sports and stuff all over Europe.”
“Yes, that is correct,” Greta put in. “My family has been involved in horses for several generations.”
“Anyway,” Peter went on, “I figured it would be a good excuse to come along and see everyone. She had to go to Vegas, and when we got there, well, the moment just seemed right. You know?”
Lisa didn’t know what to say, and the rest of the family was equally speechless. Her big brother—married? Without telling anyone? It just didn’t compute. Peter was usually so sensible, so methodical and careful. What had gotten into him?
Peter cleared his throat. “Um, there’s one more thing,” he said. “Greta—er, that is, we—have two children. I mean, they were her children, and now that we’re married … Well, you get the picture.” He grinned sheepishly. “They’re waiting in the rental car—we thought it might be better that way.” He squeezed Greta’s shoulder. “Liebchen, why don’t you go bring them in now?”
“Yes, I will go get Hanni and Dieter,” Greta declared. She nodded briskly at the Atwoods and strode out of the room.
Lisa slumped against the edge of the table as Mr. Atwood started shooting questions at Peter. Wow, she thought, still stunned by her brother’s announcement. I guess it’s safe to say I won’t be hearing anything more about college anytime soon!
SIX
The next morning at the park, Carole was struggling to shove a large piece of moldy, smelly, damp cardboard into a too-small garbage bag when she felt a pair of warm hands clap over her eyes from behind.
“Surprise!” a very familiar voice sang out. “Guess who?”
“Stevie!” Carole exclaimed, dropping the cardboard, knocking her friend’s hands away, and spinning around. She was so happy to see Stevie that she couldn’t resist throwing her arms around her in a tight hug. “Hi! What are you doing here?”
Stevie hugged her in return, then grinned at her. “Well, we never got to celebrate your birthday last week, since we were both grounded.” She shrugged. “So I figured, hey, at least today one of us isn’t grounded. So I thought I’d come by, wish you a belated happy birthday, and hang out for a while.”
“Cool.” Carole couldn’t believe how great it was to see Stevie. She’d missed her friends even more than she’d realized. Suddenly remembering where they were, she shot an anxious glance at Dr. Durbin, who was trimming some overgrown bushes nearby. “But I’m not sure the people here are going to like it if you just hang. You’ll have to do some work if you want to stay.”
“No biggie.” Stevie flexed her biceps playfully. “After all those extra chores Mom and Dad made me do while I was grounded, Manual Labor is my middle name.”
Noticing that Craig was looking over at them curiously, Carole quickly gathered up the cardboard again. “Grab that plastic bag, will you?” she said. “We have to cram this in there somehow.”
“Got it,” Stevie said agreeably. “So, how’s this whole volunteer thing going, anyway? Lisa told me about it the other day.”
Carole nodded. She had filled Lisa in on her punishment the previous week at school. “It’s going okay,” she said. “Well, you know. As okay as it could be.”
Stevie shot her a sympathetic glance, but she didn’t say anything. The two girls worked in silence for a couple of minutes. Finally they managed to get the cardboard bagged up. Carole tossed it onto the pile of garbage bags nearby, then brushed off her hands and returned to Stevie.
“Okay,” she said. “I think I’m supposed to be on raking duty next. Want to join me?”
“You got it,” Stevie replied.
The two of them grabbed rakes from the supply area and set to work on a rough section of
dusty path, raking away scraps of debris and smoothing out the surface. “So what’s been going on at Pine Hollow since I’ve been gone?” Carole asked. “Tell me everything. How’s Starlight? Did the grain company remember the new order this time? How’s the intermediate class doing with the bandaging Max has been teaching them?”
Stevie held up her hands, laughing. “Hold it!” she exclaimed. “How do you expect me to answer all those questions if you never shut up?”
Carole grinned sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said. “So?”
“Much better.” Stevie smiled and started filling her in on the activities at the stable over the past week. When she finished, Carole sighed with a mixture of relief and sadness. It sounded as though everything was running smoothly. But hearing about daily life at the stable made her miss being there even more, if that was possible.
“So what about you?” she asked wistfully. “It must be great to be ungrounded. You can hang out at Pine Hollow all day, go for a ride whenever you want.…”
“True, sort of,” Stevie said. “Actually, though, I realized it’s not quite as much fun without all my favorite people there. I mean, you’re grounded. Lisa and Callie are off doing the West Coast Thanksgiving thing. Phil’s still flat on his back with pneumonia.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve actually been forced to hang out with my twin, if you can believe that.”
Carole smiled. She could believe it very well. Stevie and Alex hadn’t always gotten along that well—back in junior high, they were infamous for the horrendous practical jokes they played on each other—but in the past couple of years they had both grown up a lot, and now they truly seemed to enjoy each other’s company.
“Hey, don’t look for any sympathy from me,” Carole joked weakly. “Hanging out at Pine Hollow whenever you want still sounds pretty great to me, Alex or no Alex.”
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