As the night waned, the back door of the Skylar home opened on a regular basis. Light spilled onto the snow from the kitchen. Alice ran from the house to the empty shed out back, where Sue stood, waiting anxiously for each and every return, which was often. Alice had already put a chair next to her, so she could stand up high and wrap her arms around Sue’s neck. She was doing so now. She stayed there a minute or two, making sure Sue was warm, cared for, and not lonely. She hugged her a second or two longer, then kissed her by the ear. Not wanting to go, but knowing she couldn’t stay out here all night, Alice ran back across the yard, stood on the doorstep, and waved at Sue before closing the door. Inside, she partook of the rest of dessert, games, and the revelry.
The night waned, and after everyone said goodbye and went home, Alice smiled in her bed, unable to sleep because she was that happy. She reached over and looked at the castle on the nightstand. She’d sacrificed the lamp that was before there for the castle. Every now and then, she reached over and touched it. She thought—for some odd reason—that this castle was her heart. It was a fortress, and her heart felt like a fortress now. She had castles inside her coming to life.
And still, every five to ten minutes, she would get up, put her boots on, and go outside, because she was too happy to sleep. In fact, Alice didn’t want to sleep at all because she didn’t want the day to end. Soon, she was sneaking into the yard without any help from the light of the kitchen, embracing Sue for the fifteenth or sixteenth time before running back to the porch, turning to wave, and heading back inside again. Alice repeated this ritual as the hours trudged by. She’d made tracks leading from the back door to the shed where Sue was staying. By morning, the trail was packed hard with her running steps in a perfectly straight line. Sue seemed to smile and laugh at Alice as she made her rounds throughout the night, and Alice smiled and laughed in return. It was the best Christmas she ever had.
CHAPTER XI
ALICE EMBARKS ON HER OWN FANTASY
Sue was, of course, the most beautiful horse Alice had ever seen, and nothing would convince her otherwise. Fred, Gerald, and Phillip were planning the coral and the stable for spring. They’d build it beyond the backyard, Fred said, and though she’d worried about Sue freezing, Fred said horses adapted well to any temperature, especially Sue.
Sue was everything Alice had ever wanted, and still she had a hard time believing she was here, that Sue was hers. A lot of beautiful things had been happening since the summer, with the exception of Tork McGuckin, and Alice smiled thinking about them all.
On the nightstand was the castle Jack had made. She imagined him laboring over it in his dad’s workshop, diligently piecing together every piece of wood and stone, his tongue clenched between his teeth. Christmas day had been the best ever, Alice thought, and not because of the gifts she’d received.
Alice stared at the castle for a long time. She saw her and Sue trotting across the drawbridge, walking through the courtyard where every servant heeded her command. Making her giggle, she imagined Jack swinging from one of the towers. He was wearing a mask and cape like Zorro, one of his many adventuresome roles. She imagined guards standing by every door, people walking across the battlements and walls: peasants, serfs, dukes, chancellors, advisors, counts, whatever and whoever else made a kingdom what it was. The thought made her smile. She thought about her mother bursting into tears, how guilty she’d felt for the simplicity of the gifts she’d bestowed, and how Phillip had put her quickly at ease.
“Personally, it’s the best scarf this neck has ever seen,” Phillip had told her. “Because of the hand that stitched it.”
“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” Jane said.
“Dear,” Gerald said. “It’s not the quality or the grandeur of the gift. Christmas is about giving. It’s not a competition.”
“Jane,” Phillip said, looking grandly at the scarf. “Every winter will be special, because I’ll have this to look forward to. I’ll always be able to wear it and always be reminded. I will look forward to winter because I will be able to wear this scarf. I look forward to the scarf, Jane, and the hat, and the gloves, and everything else I got this year because of who they came from. No scarf, as far as I’m concerned, has ever been labored over with such care and good feeling. The clock Jacky and I made was labored over with the same care. They are equal. The scarf, alone, makes it one of the most special gifts I’ve received.”
Jane, again, burst into tears. Her eyes were red and puffy after the course of the night.
“I’m gonna lose my wife to Phillip,” Gerald said, cutting into the turkey on his plate. “The words are beginning to sound like poetry.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Phillip said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Fred was quick to change the subject:
“You know this is a mighty fine bird. I prefer it drenched in gravy. What about you, Alice?”
“Oh, yes, plenty of gravy,” Alice said, catching the ruse, and nodded eagerly. “I wouldn’t dream of having the plate drenched in anything but gravy. It’s a fine gravy, I must say!”
“I must say!” Jack said, not getting the joke at all. He just didn’t want to be left out.
Jane burst into laughter; so did Gerald and Phillip, and everything was fine again.
Alice thought about all this and smiled. Her mother was worse than a Hallmark commercial, and there was nothing Alice could do about it.
Clouds still covered the sky, though it wasn’t snowing yet. She hadn’t slept much the night before, unable to stay away from Sue. She’d run outside off and on, hugging and kissing her, then run back inside, only to find she didn’t want to leave Sue alone. She had never been more pleased, knowing she had Sue to dote upon. She would love the horse with everything she had.
It was always a sad feeling in the air when Christmas ended. She knew it had to happen, but still it didn’t seem fair. She’d savored every second the day before, wanting it to last, and soon, it would be time to go back to school again. Spring would come, another vacation, and then…the hope of summer. She and Jack would be another year older.
Alice got out of bed, looked at the castle, then pulled the curtain aside to get a better look at Sue. Alice still had on her pajamas. She put on her cowboy boots, her lime-green winter coat, and the cowboy hat. She was a sight to behold as she stepped out the back door, a young girl with long, curly red hair, bright green eyes matching the lime green coat, pajama bottoms, and wearing a black cowboy hat.
Her tracks from the night before made a perfect trail in the snow. The house was quiet and still. Her parents weren’t up yet.
Alice breathed in the cold air, thinking about everything, and suddenly felt a surge of peace rise within her. All life had to offer was visible from her back porch and beyond, something she’d never really contemplated—at least in this light—the unbroken snow, the flakes beginning to spiral down now. The gate, the land beyond buried in white powder, the distant dark trees, and the mountains covered in white were a wonder. Sue was waiting for her still. They’d emptied the shed last night just for this occasion. All the tools were piled against the east wall under a tarp.
Her mind cleared; she hadn’t a single, sullied thought. An easy mood pacified her. Tears glistened in her eyes, and suddenly her heart seemed too large for her small chest. Warmth stirred, and for a moment, traveled outward. She held it, breathing in the crisp, cold air, closing her eyes to savor it. She could just smell Sue, and the aroma, too, was pleasant. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the tolling of a bell rang inside her heart. Something magical she couldn’t name, something otherworldly was taking place inside and out of her at the same time. Alice took a deep breath, her mind like a glassy lake. Mystery spoke. She opened her mind to the possibility that every impossible thing could be real if she wanted.
Alice opened her eyes. Geese flew across the sky in a broken V. Snowflakes tickled her nose; the coldness made her laugh. She looked at the trail she’d
made with her tiny footsteps, how they ran back and forth from the porch to Sue, the chair next to the shed. How Sue was waiting for her now, looking, in fact, in her direction. She’d lost count of how many times she’d let the screen door bang shut behind her; how many times the back door opened and closed. To Sue, she’d reveal every secret, confide every dream she’d ever had. She would ride to Jack’s house, and they would ride Sue together. Alice smiled at the thought, stepping off the porch and onto the trail.
A steely, mystical calm hovered over the backyard. She wanted to savor it for as long as she could, as though standing here—minutes, hours on end—would not be enough to absorb every detail of the day.
They’d taken the doors off the shed the night before, so Sue wasn’t altogether confined. In place, they’d put a wire gate. Sue could look out from the shed and into the yard now. She was doing this as Alice walked the length of the trail. Alice stepped up onto the chair, now face to face with Sue. Sue looked her way, blinked her dark eyes, and flicked her ears. Alice put her hand on Sue’s nose, petted it, then leaned in and hugged her. She kissed Sue lightly on the ear. Sue, of course, didn’t mind any of this.
“Good morning, Sue,” Alice said. “Did you sleep well?”
Sue flicked her ears, and Alice took it as a yes.
“That’s good,” Alice said. “I stayed up most of the night, because I couldn’t stop thinking about what a perfect Christmas it was, and, of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I probably kept you up all night, didn’t I?”
Sue didn’t say anything, which Alice took as a no.
“Soon, you’ll have your own stable. It’ll be so much better. So, if you can just hold out, all will be well. Are you comfortable, Sue? Can I get you anything?”
Sue snorted lightly, shook her head, throwing her main back and forth, which was probably a way of getting some bug out of her eye, but Alice took this as ‘yes,’ she was comfortable, and ‘no,’ she was fine the way she was.
“You’re a very patient and tolerant horse, not obstinate at all,” Alice said, petting Sue’s nose. “I just want you to know, if you ever start missing Shockwave or Christmas, or Buckby, we can visit them anytime, okay? We will anyway, but all you have to do is tell me, and off we’ll go. You need to visit your friends, sometimes, I guess. All you have to do is say the word, or stomp your hoof or something. I’ll understand either way.”
Sue nudged Alice with her nose, understanding perfectly. Though, it seemed as if Sue were content just having Alice there.
“I love you so much, Sue,” Alice said. “I can hardly believe it. I can’t believe Fred did what he did. I wonder how they all did it? Maybe Jack was responsible in some way, too, you know? I’ll take you riding every chance I get. I won’t keep you caged in here forever. You’ll be a very happy horse, Sue. You’ll see. You’ll like it here. We’re gonna have lots of fun together.”
Sue tapped her hoof to the ground, snorted, flicked her ears, as if she couldn’t think otherwise. They understood each other. Alice hugged Sue in return and kissed her by the ear again.
“Well, I suppose, I should go inside for now,” Alice said. “But I’ll come out later, and we’ll go riding. Fred provided a saddle, too. Wasn’t that nice of him? So maybe Dad will help me put it on, and then we can go have an adventure in the snow. It will be good for both of us. We’ll go to Castle Juliet. There’s a place worthy of a noble horse, like you, Sue. It’s the biggest and most beautiful castle in all the land. We’ll see what King Arthur has planned for us today, okay?”
Sue did not argue, complying easily enough. Anytime you’re ready, Sue seemed to say. I’m okay with that. Just saddle me up, and off we’ll go. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the hay and the scenery.
Alice hugged Sue one more time, placed another kiss by her ear, and hopped off the chair. As she made her way back to the porch, she stopped and looked back at Sue, who was watching her the whole way. Alice waved, smiled, opened the back door, stepped inside, then shut it behind her. She decided, as a form of recompense, to make breakfast for her mom and dad that morning. It would be nice for Mom to not have to cook for once, though she never complained. Her mother enjoyed taking care of the family. Besides, Alice could still see Sue from the kitchen window. As she made breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast and hashbrowns, she kept looking out the window at Sue. It was hard to make breakfast, because the horse demanded all her attention, not because Sue was needy, but because Alice couldn’t get enough of her.
Finally, she was able to put a respectable breakfast together. It took almost an hour. Her mother could whip up three plates of breakfast in fifteen minutes.
“In time, perhaps,” Alice said, and waved at Sue through the window.
*
Alice’s parents didn’t mind she ride Sue as often as she wanted, especially during the holiday break. Once school started, however, Alice knew it would be different. She’d have to make sure her homework was done along with the chores before taking Sue out. Alice, of course, had no problem with any of this. It was only fair.
She did, however, need her father’s help with the saddle. It would’ve been nice to keep the saddle on her all the time, but Fred said it wouldn’t be very comfortable for Sue. Gerald got up that morning and helped Alice with it. In the evenings, or when she came home, her mother would be there to help, and they were just as anxious to ride Sue as well.
“See, that way, everyone gets to ride Sue, and everyone gets to help,” Alice had said.
Her parents mentioned how nice it was to have a horse, and they, too—much to Alice’s delight—were anxious to learn and help take care of her. Along with Boxer, Sue was now officially a member of the family.
Though the clouds were broken, steely patches of gray blotched the sky. The snow lay deep beyond Storyville, but Alice thought Sue could manage easily enough.
“Where are you headed?” Jane asked after breakfast that morning. Her mother and father sat in the living room having morning coffee. “A winter adventure with Jack?”
Alice had showered, put on her cowboy hat, boots, and jeans. She was anxious. “I’m not sure yet. You guys want me to wrangle up some cattle?”
Gerald smiled through his brand new spectacles. His eyes were brighter behind the clearer lenses. Beside the fireplace, the clock rang the hour of ten. Jane looked at the clock as though she couldn’t get enough of it, much like she felt about Sue.
“Just be careful, Alice,” Jane said. “I don’t want to hear about you joining a circus or something because you can’t part from Sue.”
“No worries, Mother,” Alice said. She tipped her hat in her father’s direction. “Sheriff,” she said in a perfect southern drawl that made her father smile. “See you around sundown.”
“I’ll be waiting, miss,” Gerald said, and nodded in return.
“Make it noon, Alice,” Jane said. “And I’ll have lunch for you and Jack if you want to bring him by.”
“Thanks, Mom. Will do.”
She was bundled warm with her lime green coat and gloves, though it wasn’t as cold as she’d expected. The wind wasn’t blowing today. She stepped down the porch and onto the trail where Sue waited in the makeshift shed-like stable. Alice set the small gate to one side, walked Sue into the open air, fitted her boot into the stirrup, and managed to lift herself up without any help from the chair. She was getting used to this already, and even now, she imagined she and Sue taking every adventure imaginable together. Snug in the saddle, she looked to the window and saw Boxer looking at her, tongue lolling out of his mouth, furiously wagging his tail.
“You can come out when the snow isn’t too deep,” Alice said. “As it is, Boxer, you’ll get lost, and we’ll spend more time looking for you than anything else.”
She almost felt sorry for Boxer, but she just wanted some time alone with Sue.
Boxer tilted his head, barked, and wagged his tail, looking comical, which made Alice feel better about leaving him alone. As in parting, she tipped her hat in Boxe
r’s direction. She was growing easily accustomed to the role. She could talk like a cowgirl, act like a cowgirl, and at night, when she came home, she’d ask her mother how to square dance. Alice giggled, held tight to the reigns, and steered Sue out of the yard.
Sue trotted nobly and looked like a much different horse with the reins and the saddle, a gallant horse, Alice thought. Sue must be well experienced in all this snow, because she was stepping lighter, taking it slow, as if she’d done it a million times. Alice felt she was in a western movie; she looked at the house. Jane waved at her from the kitchen window, and Alice waved in return.
Sue walked on through the deep snow with Alice holding the reigns. The snow was a perfect, puffy blanket of unbroken, glistening white. Every now and then, the sun peeked from the clouds, brightening the blue, making everything sparkle and blinding.
Hard to imagine, she thought, that she was riding her very own horse, and that she could ride her whenever she wanted. Similar to what she felt that morning, another wave of stillness moved through her. Maybe she should keep a journal and record these feelings and events, what was causing all this inside. Funny how powerful it was. More vivid and tangible than the countryside itself. Jack’s fantasies from over the summer were with her still. In fact, the memories of Jack’s imagination didn’t fade, but grew stronger. Was that possible, she thought? Maybe it was just a compilation of things. The season, the snow, Fred, Sue. Maybe Sue was magic.
Again, the moment tantalized her with its simplicity. Simple, maybe, but not to her. It was anything but simple. It weaved itself together through her mind, ribbons of wonder announcing how beautiful life could be sometimes.
Everything pronounced itself in exquisite detail, as though the land sharpened with contrast. The bushes and twigs the snow hadn’t buried yet, the trees in the distance. A thin fog obscured the mountains, and it was easy to imagine what it would be like there in the thin, cold air, a climber, a vagabond, or rucksack wanderer.
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