by Leslie Gould
Then the others must have gone to bed too because someone extinguished the lantern and there was no more talking.
I kept thinking about Leon, interrupted now and then by Hannah’s sighing. After a while she got out of her sleeping bed and grabbed her jacket. Then she unzipped the tent, which seemed incredibly loud in the stillness, and slipped out into the night.
I waited a moment, trying to hear which way she went. Perhaps she was hungry. But then I heard one of the horses whinny. She hadn’t gone to the ice chests. She’d gone to Leon.
Of course I followed her, slipping my sweatshirt over my nightgown, hoping I wouldn’t be seen. The fire had died down to embers. Someone had pulled all the lawn chairs under the canopy, plus the food boxes, the stoves, and everything else that might get rained on.
I looked up at the sky. It was an inky black, but to the west the clouds parted some and a few stars shone through. If I didn’t feel such angst, I’d have thought the night beautiful. Then I remembered it was the summer solstice and wondered if Leon had thought about it. Earlier in the week I’d imagined us out on another hike on the longest day of the year, like the first night we’d arrived. But now it was the middle of the night. That, like so many things, hadn’t turned out the way I’d imagined.
I swung wide, away from the guys’ tent and Pete and Cate’s, following the tree line down to the trailer.
Robbie cried out, hopefully in his sleep. One of the horses whinnied again. I tensed as I stumbled over a rock, but I grabbed a tree, stopping my fall. I hadn’t brought my flashlight—it would have only given me away.
The clouds parted a little more. I could make out a shadow of a figure by the trailer, then the pale figure of Lightning. I stepped carefully, not wanting to give myself away.
I stepped behind a tree and poked my head around. I had a profile view of Hannah with her face pressed against Lightning’s nose, her arms wrapped around the horse’s neck. Hannah didn’t say a word, just stood quietly. I guessed her eyes were closed.
Storm stood a few feet away, shaking his head as if he wanted a turn. He whinnied again. Hannah waited a long moment and then pulled her arms from Lightning and walked over to Storm, embracing him the same way. I directed my attention to the trailer, expecting to see Leon at the opening. I squinted. No one was there.
But then the trailer swayed a little. The clouds drifted more, and the moon appeared, riding high in the sky. By the light of it I saw Leon poke his head out of the back of the trailer.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
He was speaking to Hannah, and I didn’t think he saw me.
She nodded.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Jah,” she answered. “I will.”
He retreated, the trailer swayed a little more, and I stepped back, puzzled. I picked my way back through the trees to the tent and had just settled into my sleeping bag when Hannah returned and climbed back into her bed. A few minutes later her breathing slowed.
But I still couldn’t fall asleep. When we were girls Hannah and I had spent every chance we could together. School, church, and weekends at each other’s house. It wasn’t that we got along perfectly. We argued. Competed with each other, even though it went against what we were taught. Criticized each other some. But still we got along, mostly.
It was funny how horses brought out the best in her but the worst in me.
When we were girls I finally agreed, after years of her begging me, to go riding. It was a big deal for me to even get up on a horse, but that went okay. Hannah led the way on her horse, and mine followed without me having to do anything except to try to keep from bouncing out of the saddle. Hannah told me to move with the horse, that there was nothing to fear. And after a bit, even though I kept jostling, I started to relax.
As we neared the creek, though, Hannah’s horse took off. Mine followed. I slid all over the saddle, yelling for Hannah to stop.
She did, on the other side of the creek, which made my horse stop abruptly in the water. With a jolt, I fell sideways, the saddle going with me. I fell fast and hard, landing on a rock, my arm tucked underneath me.
Right away, even in the icy water, I knew I’d broken it. I also knew I had to get out of the creek, but it was hard to balance with my arm limp beneath me.
Hannah jumped off her horse and grabbed a branch along the bank. She extended it so I could grab it, and I was able to make it to the bank.
My parents met us at the doctor’s office, where I was X-rayed, casted, and sent home. I didn’t see Hannah until Monday morning at school, and when everyone gathered around to sign my cast she burst into tears. I thought she was jealous of all the attention I was getting.
We didn’t spend much time together for a few weeks until one Saturday afternoon when Mamm told me she’d invited Hannah over to spend the night. My parents didn’t meddle much in my life, not even back then, so I was surprised.
That night Hannah cried again. Finally she told me she thought I’d been killed when I fell into the creek and it was her fault. I liked that she thought it was her fault, for a moment, until she started sobbing.
“That’s silly,” I said.
Once she quit crying, she told me I needed get back on a horse soon or else I’d be afraid to ride for the rest of my life.
“That’s silly too,” I said.
When Hannah went home the next day, Mamm asked me to help her in the garden. My arm was still in a cast, and there wasn’t much I could do, but she insisted. I held the string while she tied the beans to the pole. “You know,” she said, “when we’re hurt, how we react to that hurt is often more important than how we were hurt in the first place.”
I didn’t understand what she was saying.
She sighed. “It’s important, Molly, that you don’t hurt someone else just because you’ve been hurt.”
I insisted I’d done nothing to hurt Hannah.
But she was right. I had. It hadn’t been her fault I’d fallen. And I had been ignoring her—worse, I’d been punishing her.
In the dark tent, with Hannah breathing deeply on one side of me and Beatrice on the other, I choked back a sob. I missed Mamm. I wasn’t ready for her to die too. What would I do without her?
She’d been right back then, when I was a girl. I wonder what she’d say to me now. Had I hurt Hannah again? Because I was scared? Because I was hurting? Because I wasn’t in control?
Chapter
18
The smell of coffee and the clatter of pans woke me the next morning. Hannah rolled toward me. Beatrice was wedged against my back. They’d sandwiched me. I closed my eyes and fell back to sleep.
“Do you three plan to sleep all day?” It was Ben, right outside our tent.
“Leave them alone,” Cate said, her voice farther away. “They’re probably exhausted.”
“Hanner.” Robbie sounded as if he was right outside our tent too, along with an aviary of finches tweeting their little hearts out.
“Come on,” Ben said. Maybe he came to retrieve his nephew.
I nudged Beatrice. “Roll over,” I said. “We need to get up.”
She groaned out loud.
Then gently, I said, “Hannah.”
She turned toward me, opening her eyes. “Time to get up?”
I nodded.
She sat up, her wavy hair loose and fuzzy. I searched her face, trying not to be too obvious. She seemed okay.
Hannah and I climbed out of our sleeping bags and got dressed. I had to poke Beatrice again to get her moving. As I crawled toward the tent door, Hannah held up the tear-down-camp chart. “Forgetting something?”
Beatrice groaned, out loud. “Don’t,” she said, a straight pin between her lips bobbing up and down, the other in her hand, headed for her Kapp. “No one needs you taking control. Everyone knows what to do.”
I took the paper from Hannah. “I decided not to post it.” It must have fallen out of my bag and been dragged over by our moving around in the dark.
&
nbsp; Beatrice knelt as she pinned the front of her dress, her head down. “It’s insulting,” she said. “The way you treat everyone.”
“No one’s insulted,” I said, still holding the paper.
Beatrice looked up at me. “That’s not true.” Her disloyalty stung.
I folded the paper in half and stuck it back in the folder in my bag. “Beatrice, I already said I’m not posting it.”
I hurried from the tent, but on the way out caught Hannah shrugging her shoulders at Beatrice. Everyone—even Ben and Martin—was up, although I didn’t see Leon anywhere. Last night I’d felt like a villain for not sounding the alarm earlier about Hannah being missing. This morning everyone acted as if nothing had happened.
Cate asked Hannah how she slept.
“Fine,” Hannah answered.
Lightning was tied to the outside of the trailer, but Storm was gone. Leon must have gone on a morning ride. Cate and Pete were preparing breakfast, but everyone else was sitting around the fire.
I thought of suggesting everyone do something to pack up the campsite but instead poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down too. Hannah scooped up Robbie. Immediately Mervin stepped to her side.
A few minutes later, Leon appeared in camp, his western hat pushed back on his head. He sauntered over to Hannah’s side too and tickled Robbie’s bare feet. The little boy squealed. I turned my attention to the fire.
“Time to eat,” Cate called out. The others quickly rose to wash up and then help with getting the meal on the table. By the time Pete was ready to pray, everyone had gathered around.
I hadn’t had to say a word to hurry them along.
After breakfast, even though I feared offending everyone, I asked Mervin, Martin, and Ben to do the dishes while Hannah, Beatrice, and I made sandwiches to pack for our lunch on the ride home. The boys did what they were told, with a break for a pinecone fight. I bit my tongue and didn’t chastise them.
When they finished, I wanted to tell them to pack up their tent, but I knew it was obvious. They could figure it out. Instead I said, “The drivers will be here in an hour or so.”
I turned to Hannah. “You and Beatrice tear down our tent and pack it.” I searched for Pete and Cate but couldn’t find them. Their tent was still standing.
“What are you going to do?” Beatrice asked.
“Pack up the kitchen boxes.”
As I worked, Pete and Cate returned to camp, each holding one of Robbie’s hands. They put the little boy in the tent and followed him inside. I assumed they were packing their things.
“You need to roll up your bag,” Beatrice said to me.
“Please do it for me,” I answered, as nicely as I could. “And get the box of Dat’s shirts too.” I’d gotten some work done on the project, but not as much as I’d intended.
The clank of metal reverberated from the horse camp. I imagined Leon was tearing down the corral. He hadn’t asked for anyone to help him. Hannah must have heard him too because she urged Beatrice to hurry. “Then we can go help Leon,” she said.
“First you two need to fold up the lawn chairs and pick up the garbage,” I said. Scraps of paper littered the ground near the fire.
The two exchanged a look. “You just can’t stop, can you?” Beatrice muttered.
I cringed. And I’d been trying so hard not to be bossy.
Minutes later, Pete carried bags from their tent to the edge of the parking space, lining them up on the curb. Then Cate came out and the two began taking down the tent on top of Robbie, who laughed and laughed inside. It seemed everyone in camp enjoyed his peels of glee, except for me.
Beatrice pulled my sleeping bag and duffle bag from our tent, dropping them on one of the lawn chairs. Next she carefully placed her things on another chair, as did Hannah. After they quickly dismantled and packed our tent, Beatrice grabbed the paper bag of garbage from breakfast and headed toward the dumpster on the other side of the road as Hannah headed down to the horse trailer.
The boys hadn’t started on their tent yet. They were back across the road, lobbing pinecones at each other. Considering how long it was taking for Beatrice to return, I guessed she’d joined them.
I closed the first kitchen box and began packing the dishes as Leon came up the little hill with one of the blue metal cups in his hand. He held it high. “Any coffee left?”
“Just a little.” I lifted the pot. “And it’s barely warm.”
“Good enough.” He poured himself some, then turned toward Cate and Pete’s collapsed tent. Robbie had his head out of the door, grinning. Pete stooped to pick him up, but the little one scrambled back inside.
Leon laughed. “The great thing about little kids is that it’s all about the moment.”
For a second, as I stopped and watched the tent wiggle with Robbie scooting around inside, I envied the little boy, but then I thought how far behind schedule we were. “But we don’t have time for that right now.”
Leon laughed again. “That’s why it’s so hard to hurry kids. They’re not thinking about what happened yesterday or what has to happen later today. They just want to enjoy now.”
I went back to envying Robbie. I’d enjoyed being with Leon in the forest at the waterfall and then when the fireflies came out. And on our horse ride, before he told me he might end up going back to Montana. But besides that, I hadn’t lived in the moment on this trip. I’d been worrying about Mamm, the farm, if Leon loved me, and about Hannah.
Now I worried about getting packed up on time.
I turned back to the box, but Leon reached for my hand and pulled me to his side. “Ach, Molly, I know you’re fretting over things. And I know you and I have something to talk through. But we came up here to have fun, jah?”
I didn’t respond.
He continued. “You’ve been so serious.”
I pursed my lips together. “Well, someone needs to be.”
“I see your point,” he said. “And that’s one of the things I admire about you. Being in charge. Getting things done. But all of us, except for Robbie, are adults. Everyone might not do things exactly the way you want them done—but they’ll do them, eventually.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Did Beatrice put you up to this? Or maybe Hannah?”
He put the cup down on the table. “As a matter of fact . . .” He met my eyes. “No.” Then he walked away.
I stood stunned for a short moment and then yelled, “Who do you think is going to wash your cup? Because if you think there’s someone in charge of that, you’re wrong.”
He came back, took the bottle of dishwashing detergent from the table, and picked up the cup, taking both over to the hand-washing station. He brought the cup back wet, picked up a dish towel from the table, and quickly dried the cup. “Done,” he said, leaving it beside the box.
My face grew warm as he walked away. Was that the way to treat someone I loved? I thought of my parents, of how they’d served each other. Their road to true love, I was sure, had never looked like this.
My face burned with embarrassment as I finished up the packing, folding the tablecloths last and putting them with the dish towels and bath towels into a plastic garbage bag, placing it by Pete and Cate’s things. I’d thought of Phillip as a perfectionist, but what about me?
I lugged the kitchen boxes over to the end of the parking space, stacking them on top of each other. Was that part of my aversion to horses? And to children? I couldn’t control them, so I didn’t want any part of them?
I moved my bags on top of the kitchen boxes, along with Beatrice’s and Hannah’s, and then folded up the lawn chairs. Next I dismantled the stove and packed it.
The van drivers were scheduled to arrive at any time, so I sat down on the picnic table bench to wait, wishing I had time to go tell Bella good-bye. And Phillip and Jessie. Pete slid Robbie into Cate’s arms, and she started toward me. “Want to hold him while we fold up the tent?”
“I’ll help Pete,” I said. She shrugged and continued across the road. Imme
diately the others stopped throwing pinecones and gathered around the baby. It only took Pete and me a few minutes to finish up their tent. When we were done, I went back to the table to stare at the guys’ tent while I waited for the drivers.
“Uh-oh!” It was Mervin’s voice. “Here comes the van. We’d better hurry.” He, along with Martin and Ben, tore into camp, running straight for their tent. Mervin flipped the door open and all three dove inside as the whole thing sagged down on top of them.
I couldn’t help but smile as they laughed. They had no problem living in the moment. One of them stood, holding up the middle. First one bag came flying out, then two more. Next their sleeping bags sailed out the door. All landed in the dirt.
I stood and walked to meet the van driver, who had backed the vehicle into the parking place. He and Pete loaded everything that was ready to go. By the time they were done, Ben shuffled their sleeping bags and duffle bags over, while Mervin and Martin crammed their tent into its bag. Then Mervin ran it to the van, tossed it on top of the rest of the load, and then brushed his hands together in satisfaction, a grin spreading across his face.
“Made it,” he said. Then he looked around and asked, “Where’s the truck?”
“It’ll be here in just a minute,” the van driver said. “They stopped for gas.”
“They?”
He nodded. “Owen came along too.”
Hannah ended up riding in the truck with her Dat and Leon, which had Mervin pouting in the back seat and me feeling more insecure than ever.
As we pulled onto the highway, Ben leaned over the seat and grabbed Beatrice’s journal from her hands. She turned around, grabbed it back, and beaned him on the head.
“Ouch!” he yelled.
Beatrice leaned forward. “Why don’t you—”
“Stop it,” I shouted.
For a moment everyone was quiet, but then Robbie began to wail and Cate tried to soothe him. Beatrice said to me, “This is the last trip I’m ever going on with you.”