“Good!” Jill said from behind. Lisa didn’t bother to answer.
The trail then wound up a hill to a grassy promontory that overlooked the Caribbean. Frederica paused at the top, allowing all the riders to gaze at the gorgeous scenery. Oddly, Lisa noticed that Jill pulled her horse back away from the group while they gazed at the ocean. Lisa thought Jill seemed genuinely uncomfortable with the height and the sheer drop to the ocean. Too bad, Lisa thought, taking a final glance. The sight was truly spectacular.
The walk back down the hill was tricky, and abruptly brought Lisa’s attention to her own difficulties. When Jasper broke into a trot coming off the hill, she slowed him and controlled him as he regained his place in line.
They entered another palm grove then. Lisa saw that there was a small, shabby house in the grove with enclosed yards around it. One little yard held a family of goats. Another had a chicken coop. A little boy stood outside the coop and tossed grain for the hens to eat. But the child never took his eyes off the riders who passed his home. The look on his face was intensely curious. Lisa found herself wondering how different that child’s life was from her own very comfortable one in Virginia. She thought perhaps she had as much to learn from this little boy as he did from her. She also thought it would be unlikely that either would get the opportunity to do that learning.
“Prepare to canter!” Frederica called from the front of the line. Lisa felt a tightening in her stomach and recognized her own fear. She didn’t like the feeling at all.
She gripped the horse tightly with her legs, shortened her reins, sat deeply in the saddle, and signaled Jasper to canter. He did. Jasper’s canter was much smoother than Velvet’s. It was almost a lumbering gait, as though the horse had to labor to maintain it. Lisa gave him a little bit more rein and kept her legs tight against his belly.
They followed the trail through the palm grove. Lisa kept her eyes forward so she wouldn’t be fooled by a curve as she had been on Velvet. It definitely helped her riding. It also allowed her to see a family of eight piglets scurry across the bridle path. Lisa thought they were probably headed for the house and the little boy, who might feed them. At last the riders came clear of the palm grove and rode down a gentle slope into a marsh, still cantering. Frederica then led them right into the water. The horses sloshed willingly through the swamp, but Lisa wasn’t prepared for the change of speed the water caused. As soon as Jasper’s hooves began slogging through the mud, he slowed. Lisa didn’t.
It didn’t matter how tightly she gripped him, the sudden change of speed was more than she could handle. She flew right over Jasper’s neck and landed in the mud. This time, she couldn’t roll and evade her own oncoming horse fast enough. Jasper shied to the left, but not fast enough to keep from kicking her in the knee. Jill yanked on her horse’s reins, but he too ran into Lisa.
In an instant, Frederica was by her side.
“Don’t move,” she instructed Lisa once again.
This time, Lisa obeyed. She hurt. She didn’t want to move.
“Where do you hurt?” Frederica asked.
Lisa told her about the bang on her knee and on her shoulder, where Jill’s horse had struck her.
Frederica asked Lisa to move her leg and then her knee. When Lisa did so without difficulty, Frederica helped her stand up. Another rider brought Jasper back to Lisa.
“Can you ride again?” Frederica asked.
Lisa was surprised to find herself hesitating before she answered. “Yes,” she said finally.
With help, she got back into the saddle, feeling yesterday’s bruise in her seat along with her two new ones. She also felt the soggy filth of the marsh water she’d tumbled into. Some of it even sloshed around inside her waterproof boot.
The rest of the ride went by in a haze. About the only thing Lisa noticed was that Jill had stopped giving her riding tips. Lisa decided that meant Jill had probably given up on her as a hopeless case. She didn’t care. All she wanted to do was to finish out the ride and get to her room.
The riders finally reached the stable. Lisa rode Jasper over to a shady spot away from the other riders, hoping they would take the hint and leave her alone. It didn’t work. One by one, every rider except Jill came up to her and told her how sorry they were that she’d fallen off and how they hoped she didn’t hurt too much.
They had no idea how much she hurt, but it wasn’t the bruises that hurt the most. It was her confidence.
Lisa shook her head in amazement. For the last six months, she had always thought of herself as a rider, a good rider. She took lessons, she belonged to a Pony Club, she’d even been to riding camp. She and her friends had won a gymkhana. They’d even competed in a rodeo and won a prize there. She had always been a good rider, but how could something that was so right at home be so wrong on the beautiful tropical island of San Marco?
As quickly as she could, Lisa left the stable and headed back to her room to change. Almost everybody she passed on the way saw her muddy clothes, and the looks on their faces told her that they all knew exactly what had happened to her. That mystified Lisa. How could all those strangers know when she herself had no idea what had really happened?
All she knew was that she wasn’t a rider anymore and maybe never would be again.
LISA DIDN’T GO riding the next day. The hotel operator woke her up bright and early at her parents’ request so she could get ready to begin a tour of the whole island of San Marco. The trip, including a beach picnic, would take all day. Her parents said they hoped Lisa wasn’t too disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to ride. Lisa assured them she wasn’t. In fact, though she didn’t tell them, she was actually relieved.
Right after breakfast, she and her parents met their driver, Ben, a cheerful large man with a large van to accommodate them and their picnic. Lisa’s father had spent some time the evening before looking at local maps to decide exactly what sights they wanted to see. Ben took a look at the list, crumpled it, stuffed it in his pocket, and said, “No, no, I show you the island—my island.”
Since he said it so nicely, there seemed to be nothing to do but to agree.
Ben opened doors for Lisa and her mother and saw to it that everybody was comfortable in the seats. He secured the picnic basket in the back and then climbed into the van himself. “First, the rain forest,” he announced, slamming his own door to add emphasis to his intentions.
“Sounds good to me,” Mr. Atwood said, fastening his seat belt.
San Marco was a volcanic island, and that meant that among other things, it was very mountainous. The roads followed the irregular terrain, carved into the mountain-sides. On one side, dense forest covered land that seemed to rise straight up from the road. On the other side, a sheer cliff led to the sea below. Sometimes the road was so narrow that Lisa felt they were going to drive off it any minute and had to close her eyes. When she opened them, she noticed that her mother was doing the same thing. Her father chatted amiably with Ben, who followed the rutted and curvy road up and down mountains.
There was one mountain that seemed to be in the middle of a cloud at the end of a rainbow. “Look at that!” Lisa said, pointing to it.
“That’s the rain forest,” Ben explained. “It’s usually raining in there, so there is usually a rainbow pointing the way to it.”
Within a few minutes, Ben had pulled into a small parking lot in the rain forest. They got out of the van to explore.
The forest was a small area, clearly defined from a distance by the cloud and the rainbow, and it was a place unlike any that Lisa had ever seen.
The vegetation was lush, with thick ground cover, palmlike ferns, middle-height trees, and tall trees that seemed like an umbrella, shading the whole area. The air was rich and humid, filled with the sweet smells of tropical flowers, which Lisa was becoming used to, but also filled with the lush smell of the fertile forest.
Ben showed them where fruit trees grew in the wild. He picked up a ripe lime from the ground and gave it to Lisa. He poi
nted out the orchids. He wasn’t going to take one until he spotted one with a broken stem that would be withering soon. Carefully, he broke the stem the rest of the way and put the flower behind Mrs. Atwood’s ear.
“You look very exotic!” Lisa told her mother, who grinned.
“Many things grow here that grow nowhere else,” Ben said, indicating all the lush greenery that surrounded them. “Our rain forest is precious to us for its gifts and we take care of it in return.” He pointed to the signs prohibiting visitors from taking anything from the plants.
Lisa had studied rain forests in school. She remembered how valuable they were as homes for thousands of animals and insects, how they alone provided a growing environment for many, many kinds of plants, and how they were being destroyed throughout the world. Now, standing there on a craggy mountain on a small volcanic island, she understood for the first time what the loss would mean to the world if people continued to destroy rain forests.
“And here is our rain forest botanical garden,” Ben said, showing the Atwoods a path that led up a gentle slope. They all followed the path, reading the signs in front of each tree and bush. It seemed to Lisa that every houseplant or exotic flower she’d ever known grew wild in the rain forest of San Marco.
“This looks like our living room!” she teased her mother, who collected exotic plants.
“How right you are, and how beautiful they are. Look at that!” Mrs. Atwood pointed to a large bush with startling red leaves. It was a poinsettia, but it didn’t look anything like the little ones they had at Christmas in their house. It was almost a tree and it was stunning.
At the end of the path, the Atwoods found themselves looking at a fifteen-foot-high waterfall that plunged into a pool that fed a stream that no doubt helped to keep all the plants green.
Lisa thought she could have watched the water come over the ridge of rocks all day long. Ben had something else in mind.
“Now the volcano,” he announced, shooing them toward his van.
The volcano was only a few miles away, but it took them a long time to drive to it along the rutted roads. There was a hand-painted sign indicating the turnoff to the volcano, but Lisa wouldn’t have needed to see a sign; she could smell its sulfurous fumes from a half mile away.
“This is an inactive volcano, but there is still activity there,” Ben said, thinking he had explained something. The confused looks on the Atwoods’ faces must have told him differently. “I mean, it is not going to erupt again, but there are hot springs bubbling all the time. Come, I show you.”
The Atwoods got out of the van and followed Ben. He introduced them to some friends of his who worked at the volcano. They all walked across the rocky terrain, toward the sulfur pools. Ben pointed out a puddle on the ground and told Lisa to feel the water. It was warm. Another puddle was situated closer to the bubbling pools. Lisa felt that, too. It was hotter than the first. The next puddle was hotter still, and the one that followed was bubbling. Lisa didn’t touch it.
When they could see into what had once been the crater of the volcano, they noticed several different bubbling pools, all filled with dank, opaque water, and all smelling fiercely of sulfur. It was hard to imagine what they were like on the inside, but Lisa wasn’t tempted to find out, especially when Ben told her that the liquid had been measured at 350 degrees Fahrenheit!
They walked around the mouth of the crater and found rocks containing sulfur and iron, which Lisa planned to take back to her class. As she carefully pocketed the stones, Ben announced it was time for their next stop.
“Now we go to the market!”
He drove them into a small town. The entire center of the town was taken up with an open-air market where townspeople bought, sold, and traded their wares.
Lisa and her mother found some wonderful hats and baskets they wanted to buy. Mr. Atwood bought a shirt and a sunhat. He also bought a leather wallet for Ben, who had been admiring it at one of the shops. Lisa was glad they got him a present. He was showing them wonderful things and giving them a lovely time.
Ben proudly tucked his money into his new wallet and then announced their next activity.
“Picnic time!”
They all piled into his van and he drove them to the ocean. Ben explained that there were two kinds of beaches on the island—Caribbean and Atlantic. The beach near their hotel was Caribbean. Now they would see what the Atlantic was like.
At first, Lisa didn’t think it was very different. The whole island was surrounded with the same bright turquoise water. They spread out their blanket and picnic on an empty beach just off the main road. Then they all stripped down to their bathing suits and headed for the water.
The Atlantic water was different. It was a little bit cooler and the surf was higher. Maybe that had more to do with the angle of the beach than the source of the water, but in the end it didn’t matter to Lisa. What mattered was that she had a wonderful time playing in the surf and then enjoying her picnic.
While her parents rested after lunch, she and Ben took a walk on the beach. He showed her different shells and told her the animals’ names. For a few of them, he even included recipes! By the time they reached the rock outcrop that defined the end of the beach, Lisa’s hands were filled with shells. So were Ben’s. When they returned to the picnic site, they found Mr. and Mrs. Atwood packing up. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the western horizon. It was time to go back to the hotel.
They were all quiet on the return trip. Lisa watched the banana groves, wondering once again at the fact that the bananas grew up instead of down, as she’d always assumed. She thought about all the marvelous things they had seen and done that day. She sifted through her newly acquired rocks and shells. She thought about all the things they had learned from Ben. She remembered all the beautiful sights they’d seen—so unlike anything at home, or even anything at their hotel.
Everything seemed to have taken on a sort of dreamy, unreal quality as they passed through the island’s little villages, now almost familiar to Lisa. It was as different as anything she’d ever seen. It was far away from anything that had ever worried her. She’d had a wonderful day. Before she knew it, her eyelids drooped and shut and she fell asleep.
Lisa jerked awake as they hit the first speed bump entering their hotel’s grounds. There were the tennis courts, the windsurfing beach, the practice putting green, the basketball court, the dining villa, and—Lisa gulped—some riders returning to the stable.
She’d forgotten all about the stable. She’d spent a whole day not even thinking about Jill, Frederica, Velvet, and Jasper. She hadn’t thought once about her bruises and her riding. She hadn’t even thought about what she was going to do the next morning when she was scheduled to go on another trail ride, and she didn’t want to think about those things now, either.
Lisa occupied herself with helping Ben unload the remains of their picnic, folding towels, and brushing sand off the beach ball and Frisbee. The Atwoods said their good-byes to Ben. Lisa gave him a little hug and thanked him for everything he’d done to make their tour of the island wonderful. He told her it had been his pleasure and she believed him.
Ben drove away then, so Lisa and her parents picked up all their things to take them to their rooms. While they waited for the elevator, Jill came by with another girl about her age. Lisa waved to her. “Hi, Jill,” she said. Jill barely glanced at her. When she was a few steps away, Jill put her arm across her new friend’s shoulders and began whispering in her ear. The other girl glanced at Lisa, then turned back to Jill. The two of them started giggling. Lisa was sure she knew exactly what they were giggling about. She didn’t like it at all. She could feel the wonderful relaxed feeling of the day drain from her as the two girls skipped in the opposite direction.
LISA MANAGED TO avoid Jill for the rest of the day and the evening, but she wasn’t able to avoid the subject of horseback riding.
“What’s that bruise?” her mother asked, looking at Lisa’s shoulder as th
ey sat at dinner that night.
Lisa had almost forgotten it because it was on the back of her shoulder and she hadn’t been able to see it when she’d gotten dressed for dinner.
“What bruise?” she asked innocently, stalling for time. She had no idea what she wanted to tell her parents.
“The big purple patch on your shoulder, Lisa,” her father said in a tone that indicated he didn’t believe her innocent posture.
“Oh, that happened yesterday—” she began cautiously.
“You got hurt riding, didn’t you?” Mrs. Atwood accused her. “I knew it would happen. We have to find out when the doctor is in.”
“Oh, Mother,” Lisa said, exasperated. “It’s just a bruise. It’s nothing.”
Her parents regarded her suspiciously for a few minutes while they all ate in silence.
“It’s not nothing,” her father said after a while. “Why don’t you tell us about it?”
Lisa knew then that she’d have to tell everything. When her mother blustered, Lisa could ignore it, but when her father asked her a straight question like that, she had to answer it.
She began at the beginning, explaining what had happened both days on the trail, how she’d fallen off twice and gotten the bruise the second time. Her parents waited patiently through the whole story, not interrupting once. But as soon as she was finished, her mother had a lot to say.
“I knew it—I just knew it. Horseback riding just isn’t a safe thing for you to do. I’m sorry I ever encouraged you to do it in the first place. I had no idea it could be so dangerous. You’re only bruised now, but soon you’ll be coming home with broken bones and then heaven knows what.”
“Mother,” Lisa said, trying to sound patient, “I never had one teeny bit of trouble with getting hurt or being thrown at Pine Hollow. They know I’m a good rider and they trust me and I seem to ride better there.”
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