Mrs. Preston began the daily meditation. “Close your eyes and take a nice deep breath. Good. Now let’s begin to let our minds float above us and let all other thoughts melt away. Take another breath and breathe in the energy of the horse and exhale as if you are blending with the horse. You are both sharing breath and you are feeling what it’s like to breathe through the nostrils of this beautiful creature. We are all connected as we share life and we are none greater than the other.”
She paused to give the children time to just have silence and then said, “When you are ready, open your eyes and paint with your feelings. Don’t worry about technique today, just let the paintbrush flow over your canvas.”
The students began to paint the black-and-white horse that was now standing with his head up and ears fully alert. Dusky was kicking a tub in the next pen and Eclipse snorted. Milla’s painting was comprised of many fast swooshes of brilliant shades of purples and blues. She was painting quickly and her broad brushstrokes seemed striking against the white canvas. Carrie’s painting was softer, as she chose lighter hues and often drew with paint as if she was using a pencil.
Mrs. Preston walked around the class making comments and answering questions. She stopped to look at Milla’s artwork, and everyone glanced anxiously to see what she would say. Mrs. Preston, aware that all of the students felt a bit intimidated by Milla’s talent, merely smiled at the girl and told her she loved the bold strokes, continuing over to Carrie’s painting.
“This is beautiful; you are using colors that really harmonize. Good work, just wonderful, but watch this over here,” she said, pointing to an area that seemed a bit crowded on the canvas. Carrie had started her painting very close to the edge and hadn’t realized it until it was too late. But it was a good painting and Mrs. Preston told her she had seen improvement in her work.
Mac was busy playing with some insects that had crawled onto his backpack and Mrs. Preston shook her head. “Well, Mac, are you going to paint bugs or a horse today?” Mac looked sheepishly at his grandmother. She looked at his blank canvas. “Don’t you want to paint today?” she asked.
The class stopped working and watched the drama unfolding. “I try and try and I’m no good at this stuff. I stink and you know it,” he said, looking down at the bugs. She knelt beside him and said softly, “You don’t stink and no one is better than the other. This is just a fun way to express yourself. You can paint what it feels like to be a horse. You don’t even have to paint the horse.”
“Oh,” Mac said as he stood up and brushed himself off, “you mean I can paint like I’m the horse and what I might see around me?”
“If that’s what you want to do—yes, you can.” Milla walked over and quietly stood behind Mrs. Preston, who said, “Listen, McLeary, you are a bright, talented, wonderful young man and you can use all of your own specialness to create whatever you desire.” Mac grinned, as his grandmother was the only one who ever used his real name, and she only said it when she wanted to tell him something important.
Milla crouched down beside Mac and spoke softly. “Mac, why don’t you bring your stuff over next to me? It will be fun to paint together.”
“Aw, no way, you’re just saying that because I stink.”
“I mean it, come on. You can pretend you’re a horse and stand next to me, but no biting or kicking or I’ll bop you one.” Together they moved Mac’s gear. Mrs. Preston gave Milla a wink and moved on.
Eclipse began to stomp his feet and looked around as if signaling that the class had ended. “Yes, we are finished,” Mrs. Preston said as she walked up to the horse and rubbed his neck. “You always seem to know when the session is over.”
The children stopped talking and gave their attention to their teacher, hoping they would be picked to gather Eclipse’s lead line and walk him back to the stable. Mrs. Preston looked around at the eager faces, searching for someone who had not had a turn and then offered the lead line to a small girl named Fran. Everyone collected their paintings and began to move back toward the classroom. Mrs. Preston walked beside Carrie.
“My mom said she met you recently,” said Carrie.
“Oh yes, she did and she even helped me with my family tree. It’s really remarkable how she can do so much research and find information that I thought was impossible to locate.”
“I know,” agreed Carrie. “She should forget about looking for a job in the casino and just find a genealogy research job. She’s really good at it.”
“Did she tell you we’re getting together this week at the library? She’s going to teach me some of her tricks.”
“Cool, if Mac and Tracey go with you, maybe I’ll come too.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mrs. Preston said.
Milla and Carrie found their usual spots on the corner picnic table and began eating their lunch. Carrie was starting to worry about Milla’s obsession with the tiny foal she had helped rescue. Milla no longer called her Hope but now referred to the foal as “my horse.” Changing the subject abruptly, Carrie said, “Hey, that was really nice of you to help Mac today.”
“Did you know that his name is really short for McLeary—isn’t that a cool name? So, anyway,” Milla continued, “my horse is actually starting to get bossy. Mrs. Burke told me she even grabbed a blanket and ran away with it and Mrs. Burke had to chase after her to get it.” Milla laughed.
“Oh, so Mac is short for McLeary,” Carrie said, ignoring Milla’s “my horse” comment. “That’s more like a last name, but I do like it. It sounds like a character from some detective book. I’m going to get to hang out with Mac and Tracey at the library this week. My mom’s helping Mrs. Preston with some ancestry stuff.”
“Really? Mrs. Preston is interested in this ancestry stuff, too? My dad is turning into a freak; he’s positively obsessed,” Milla said. “I have never seen him this interested in anything. I’m starting to get a bit worried about him.”
“I know, trust me. I used to feel the same way, but I love helping my mom now. Don’t you think it’s cool to see where you came from?” Carrie asked.
“How the heck does this have anything to do with where I came from? I was born in Reno and that’s where I came from,” replied Milla.
“No, not that way,” Carrie said. “I mean all the generations before you. When you really dig back and see the names and places that your great-great-great-grandparents lived, it sort of makes you feel more connected to the world and not just the city or state you live in. Do you know what I mean?”
“Hmm, I guess that’s what’s getting my dad so excited. He keeps saying that since Grandma died, I’m his only family. And I guess that makes him the only family I have. That’s why I want to talk him into letting me have my horse!” Milla replied.
Carrie rolled her eyes as the conversation was very neatly brought back to the little foal named Hope. Carrie wanted to adopt a horse herself but was waiting for the right time to ask her mom. Asking parents for stuff you really wanted was tricky. Timing was everything, and Carrie wasn’t about to rush something this important. She was just about to ask Milla about Foot when she felt something brush her leg under the picnic table. She quickly looked under to see what it was. The what turned into a who and the who was Mac. He was crawling around on the ground looking for more bugs. Carrie and Milla both crouched down to watch him and he looked up sheepishly.
“Um, what are you doing down there, Mac?” asked Carrie.
“I’m trying to see where they live,” said Mac. “They have to be going home and I’m following them.”
“Cool,” said Milla.
“Cool,” agreed Carrie.
Mac looked up waiting to see if they were teasing him or if they understood his fascination with insects.
“Hey, Mac, I’m going to come hang out with you and Tracey this week. Your grandmom and my mom are going to meet at the library,” Carrie explained.
“You are?” asked the smiling boy. This thought distracted him from his ant watching and he sat up and bru
shed himself off. “They have some really big books about insects there. I’m not allowed to check them out because they’re this big,” he said, stretching his hands wide. “Did you know that some of the insects we see today go back to when the dinosaurs were here?” he asked.
“Really?” Milla asked. “Which ones?”
Mac suddenly became animated. “Dragonflies and some beetles,” he said, and proceeded to tell the girls everything he had learned about insects. He was happily chatting along when Mrs. Preston walked over. Without realizing it they had missed the bell that signaled lunch had ended. They quickly gathered their things and ran off to their next class that was already in session.
Mrs. Preston smiled as she watched them laughing and running across the grounds. She picked up the drawings that had been scattered and left behind, when one caught her eye, one that Mac sketched with a dry paintbrush. It was a drawing of her leaning over a child pointing to an easel. In the bottom right-hand corner she could just make out the front leg of Eclipse. It was a wonderful scene he had captured and it was the first assignment in her class that he had actually completed.
The children found their way to their seats and ignored the whispering of their classmates. Mac sat up a little taller in his chair, somehow sensing that a bond had been formed with two older kids who didn’t know half as much as he did about science. Carrie was thinking about dragonflies and dinosaurs and Milla was daydreaming about Hope. Where did she come from, what had Jed taught them about horse DNA again? Did they have great-great-great-grandparents, too? Mrs. Preston stuck her head in to make sure they had gotten to class and Jed gave her a little wave. Mac looked up and caught his grandmother’s eye. He looked at her and smiled. She paused, as something in Mac’s look seemed to hold her. He was speaking to her with his eyes, sending her a silent message.
I love you, Grandmom. You were right—I’m special.
Chapter 50
“You must be mistaken, Ellie. I can’t believe you saw Carrie’s father holding hands with someone at a restaurant. It was probably someone who resembled him,” Jodi said.
“Oh, I know it was him. He didn’t see me but I saw him and he was looking very full of himself,” sniffed Ellie.
“Shhh, I don’t want Shannon to hear any of this. Regardless, Brenda filed for divorce and Mark is free to have dinner with whomever he likes.”
“True, but I bet Brenda knows nothing about this redhead.”
“Wait,” Jodi added,” I think he has a few sisters and I think one has red hair. You probably saw an innocent exchange with his sister.”
“Well, I think you should call Brenda and tell her about this,” chided Ellie.
“Tell her what exactly—that you saw Mark in a restaurant with a woman who could have been his sister? I think you should stop spreading false rumors before you hurt someone. You have no idea what you saw, so just admit it and let it go,” replied Jodi, frowning.
Shannon, standing in the hallway, suddenly felt ill. She had heard everything and although she didn’t want to believe it was Carrie’s dad they were gossiping about, she knew it was him. She thought back to the week before when she had seen Mr. Anderson and a young woman coming out of a store. She was on her bike and had called out to say hello. He had given her an odd look and a quick wave. She didn’t really look at the woman but she felt a bit hurt, as Mr. Anderson had always been so friendly. She had wanted to stop and ask him about Carrie but he seemed rude. Was this woman his new girlfriend—wasn’t that what Aunt Ellie was saying?
Shannon felt as if she was going to throw up and she ran into the bathroom.
“So did I tell you I took the kids horseback riding?” Ellie asked.
“Really…where? I didn’t know there were any riding academies in Absecon.”
“One of the teachers I work with has a stable and she invited us out. Fran is wild about horses, although Jill is still a bit shy around them. I signed Fran up for riding lessons and she just had her first session. The coach said she’s a natural, can you believe it?”
Jodi replied, “Fran has always been quick to learn just about anything you teach her. Hmm, one of the nurses I work with has horses and she’s always inviting me to bring the kids over, but I have always been afraid of them and haven’t taken her up on it.”
“You afraid? My sister, the champion of all confrontations…please,” Ellie rolled her eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about—ever since that time when I was around eight and fell off one of those ponies Dad made us ride, I’ve lost my nerve,” Jodi said.
Ellie burst into laughter. “Those ponies were all tied to a big wheel that went around in circles, and they were walking with their heads down. It’s not like they were galloping loose and you got bucked off. If I remember correctly,” Ellie continued, “you begged Dad to ride that pony and no one made you do anything…as if they could.”
“Oh, I don’t remember begging him, but I guess you’re right—they were pretty miserable-looking ponies.”
Shannon washed her face, rinsed her mouth, and sat on the floor of the bathroom. The cold tiles felt good and she didn’t want to move. She heard a small knock on the door and slowly got up to open it and found her cousin Jill looking very upset.
“Come quick, you have to come see what happened,” Jill whispered. She hurried down the hall and ran out the front door. Probably some dumb Brian escapade, Shannon thought as she walked slowly down the hall, avoiding eye contact with the chattering grownups who were washing dishes. Having cousins come to play was one thing, overhearing aunts gossiping…well, that left her drained.
She found Fran, Jill, and Brian standing on the sidewalk watching something across the street. Jill looked over her shoulder and signaled to Shannon to come quickly. Neighborhood drama was something that rarely occurred on Shannon’s street and she hurried to see what all the fuss was about.
Two people were fighting and a small crowd had gathered. Shannon stood on her toes to try and get a better look but could see nothing. “It’s Lizzie’s dad and that guy, Tim, the father of the mean girl,” Brian explained.
“Who’s Lizzie?” asked Fran.
“She’s our neighbor and she has a mean cousin named Karen,” Shannon said. Lizzie came running out of the house screaming. Karen was chasing her and yelling. The crowd parted and the two girls ran across the street straight toward Shannon and her cousins. Lizzie ran behind Shannon and hid. Suddenly, Shannon found herself face to face with a snarling mean older kid.
“Outta my way, smelly pig’s feet!” screeched Karen, shoving Shannon hard as she grabbed for Lizzie. “This is none of your business, so move it.”
Shannon fought back tears but stood her ground. A small bracelet made of woven thread was ripped from Lizzie’s wrist. Lizzie screamed for her father as she struggled to free herself from Karen’s grip. Fran ran to go get her mother while the other children moved up on to the porch trying to get as far away as possible from the violence that broke upon their sunny day. Lizzie was whimpering and shaking on the ground behind Shannon. Slowly the crowd that had gathered around the two men came to watch, yet no one said a word.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Shannon said to Karen. Looking back on it later, she realized that it was probably a stupid thing to say because the sky suddenly turned black and Shannon remembered nothing after that.
She woke to find her mom sitting beside her, crying. The room was strange and her mom seemed to be speaking in slow motion. She tried to look around but her head felt dizzy and her stomach did a flip. Tired, so tired, she thought, as she closed her eyes.
Shannon saw a colorful sea green light. It grew brighter and brighter and then seemed to drift away like a parting cloud. A man was sitting on a bench with a small black dog. She knew the man and they smiled at one another. She went to sit beside him and began petting the dog. The dog said something to Shannon about the water in her back yard…something about a leak in the hose that needed fixing, something about respect, and so
mething about the water giving itself to others. She was not actually hearing the dog use words; it was more like the animal was sending messages by thought. The dog thought of something and Shannon understood. The man looked at her with kindness and a sudden feeling of love washed over her. She hugged him and he said softly, “You are doing wonderful work with your hands. You are a healer and the more you give of yourself the more you will understand how beautiful you are.”
“I’m beautiful?” she asked.
“Yes, you know it deep within, as you know every tree and every animal that crosses your path. You are surrounded by so many who love you.” Shannon looked at the man and his red suspenders and felt as if she had known him forever. “I am always here whenever you need me,” he said. “I am here, too,” the dog said with its thoughts. The man smelled like spice and Shannon breathed in his scent that somehow made her feel safe and she closed her eyes.
John and Jodi Miller were in the hallway speaking with a team of doctors while Shannon’s grandmother sat in a creaky rocking chair beside the bed. Days had passed since Shannon had arrived at the hospital and her grandmother had rarely left her side. Creak, squeak, creak, squeak went the chair. Shannon opened her eyes and looked around the room. There were flower arrangements, stuffed animals, balloons, a few cards propped up on a window ledge, and it smelled a bit like her mom’s kitchen after she mopped the floor. Where was she? She closed her eyes, thinking of the nice man and the dog, wishing she could continue the conversation. She felt someone stroking her hair and opened her eyes to find her grandmother looking at her. Grandmom didn’t say a word. She leaned down and kissed Shannon on the cheek. She was soft and warm and her scent seemed so familiar. Shannon tried to speak but her throat felt terribly sore and swollen shut. Grandmom squeezed her hand and nodded assuringly.
Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail Page 24