Magnolia Bay Memories

by Babette de Jongh

  Heather glanced at the clock. It would be getting dark soon. “Go out there right now, put a halter on him, and make him come in.”

  Erin groaned. “Why don’t you do it?”

  Heather held on to her temper by the barest tendril of a fraying thread. “I am cooking your dinner, that’s why. Look, Erin, I know that you help out more than a lot of kids your age. But this is our life now, whether we like it or not. We all have to pitch in and help each other.”

  Erin’s ice-blue eyes—Dale’s eyes—grew sharp as glass, and her mouth drew into a lemon-sucking pucker. After a moment of tight-lipped silence and staring, she stomped her foot. “Fine.” She flounced out the back door, slamming it behind her.

  Heather went back to stirring the pasta. Her hands trembled, from the argument as much as a sweat-producing fear that something might be wrong with Charlie. The Alfredo sauce was done, so she turned off the heat. The shrimp had curled up and turned pink, so she moved them off the heat and turned that burner off too.

  Closing her eyes, she coached herself to take a few deep breaths. Willed her hands to stop shaking. Released tension on a sigh and settled her shoulders, which had crept up to her ears while she’d been arguing with Erin.

  They had been such a happy family before.

  ***

  Cat watched Adrian—whose name he’d figured out by listening to the people who talked to him—from the safe distance of the bushes outside the fence. The other people had finally left, and Cat wondered if Adrian would leave now too. But he sat in the chair and set the flat thing with the hinged lid on the table, then opened it up and started tapping on it as usual.

  Humans seemed to be interested in the strangest things.

  The flat thing made noises every now and then, but other than that, it seemed to have no use whatsoever. And yet Adrian had an endless capability to stare at the thing and tap on it for great swathes of time.

  Enough of that, Cat decided. He came closer and rubbed against the fence, enticing Adrian to come closer so they could study each other with the safety of the fence between them.

  Adrian didn’t notice.

  Cat meowed, arched his back, and paced in the other direction, leaning against the fence.

  Adrian threw another of those tasty but rich treats through the fence. Cat had eaten the first two but ignored the rest. He’d eaten too many of those a few days before, and though they tasted better than anything, they gave him the squirts. He’d learned his lesson about those things.

  He didn’t blame Adrian, though. He knew, without knowing how he knew, that Adrian was a good person who didn’t wish him harm. He was also beginning to like that colorful lady who moved like a tree blowing in the wind. She’d been giving him a container of predigested meat every evening. He had to jump the fence and then venture into an open box to get it, but so far, no harm had come to him. Apparently, it wasn’t a trap.

  Adrian closed the flat thing and stood, stretching. Cat thought at first that the man would come closer, maybe pet Cat through the fence. Cat meowed, a sweet meow of invitation, but Adrian folded the chair, then the table, and leaned them against the fence.

  Then Cat heard the low, menacing moan of the big gray tomcat. The one who’d beaten Cat before but didn’t seem satisfied with his victory. His wavering yowls meant he was coming to chase Cat away from the predigested food that was his by rights. Cat put his ears back and screamed at the interloper. That was his predigested food.

  Old Gray could have the treats. Adrian had thrown dozens of them through the fence, and they were incredibly delicious, guaranteed to keep Old Gray busy while Cat scarfed down the gooey meat the tree lady had left for him. Cat could eat his food and abscond before Old Gray found and ate all those scattered treats.

  All he had to do was stay out of sight until Old Gray got the squirts. Then the old tomcat wouldn’t feel like chasing Cat again for a good long time. But Cat realized that sooner or later, he would have to choose between freedom and safety.

  ***

  Heather called the twins down to dinner. She had just set their plates in front of them at the kitchen bar when Erin slammed through the back door.

  “Mom.” Erin’s eyes were wide with panic; her breaths came in frantic huffs. “Charlie’s lying down in the field. He won’t get up.”

  A frisson of fear skittered up Heather’s spine. “He… He won’t get up?” She’d heard Erin but hoped she had misunderstood somehow. She didn’t know a lot about horses. But she did understand enough to know that a lying-down horse who wouldn’t get up was a serious problem.

  Josh and Caroline had stopped eating, forks suspended in midair. They both spoke at once. “What’s wrong with Charlie?”

  Heather put a hand up to shush them and turned back to Erin. “You tried to put a halter on him?”

  Erin nodded. “I got it on him, but he didn’t even pick up his head.”

  Heather chewed on a fingernail. The vet’s office was already closed. She could call the office and leave a message, but it would take as much as an hour for Mack to call her back.

  “Mom,” Erin said in a pleading tone, “I think Charlie is really sick. We need to do something.”

  “I know that,” Heather snapped. Then she put a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m thinking about what to do.”

  The kids were all staring at her, waiting for her to make a decision. “I’ll handle this,” she told them. “Y’all finish your dinner.”

  She took her cell phone into the den. Reva probably had Mack’s cell number. Maybe she could get in touch with him right away. She sat on the couch and called her friend. Relief flowed through her when Reva picked up immediately. “Hey, you.”

  Heather didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Charlie is lying down in the field, and he won’t get up. Do you have Mack’s cell number?”

  “I do. I’ll call him for you and then head that way myself. If Charlie is already down, it may take us all working together to get him up again.”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you.” Having Reva’s support made this whole situation seem a little less dire. “What should I be doing for him while I wait?”

  “First priority is to get him standing. What you don’t want is for him to roll over because he could twist his intestines, and then you’d be talking about surgery.”

  “I’ll try.” But she couldn’t imagine herself having any success at moving Charlie from five feet away. She knew her phobia of horses wasn’t logical, but that didn’t lessen her fear.

  “Get Jasper to help. But if you can’t get Charlie up, at least try to keep him from rolling. I’ll call Mack and head your way. See you soon.”

  When Heather ended the call, she noticed Erin hovering in the archway between the kitchen and the den. “What now?”

  Heather tucked the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Reva says that if we can’t get Charlie up, we at least need to keep him lying still. If he rolls over, it could hurt his insides.”

  “I’ll go out there and sit by him,” Erin said. “If I hold his head still, he won’t be able to roll.”

  A vision of the horse kicking out at Erin or rolling over her invaded Heather’s mind.

  “He won’t hurt me.” Erin had correctly read Heather’s expression, a feat Heather knew wasn’t difficult because every fleeting emotion showed on her face. “I’ll be sitting next to his head,” Erin added, “not by his feet.”

  “I understand that, honey. I just worry.”

  Erin gave Heather a quick hug. “I know; you’re a mom. Worrying is your job.”

  Heather kissed Erin’s cheek. “Let’s do this.”

  Erin called Jasper and headed that way. Heather paused in the kitchen to give the twins instructions to stay inside and watch something on TV until Erin came back in to supervise bath time and tuck them into bed. Then, with her heart thumping against the
lump in her throat, she hurried to catch up.

  ***

  Charlie felt the cool, damp earth beneath him, seeping into his body and cooling the pain in his belly. But the griping pains didn’t stop. They built and then eased, built and then eased, never completely going away, always coming back stronger than before. He closed his eyes and ground his teeth against the pain.

  Something he couldn’t understand kept him tethered to the earth. Tethered to the pain. Tethered to the people who didn’t understand him or care about him or have time for him. Why? Was it because he hadn’t yet suffered enough to make up for his failures? Was it because he had to be punished for his sins?

  He was willing to be punished. He knew he deserved it. So he closed his eyes and kept his focus on the twisting pain in his belly. He let the pain come. He didn’t turn away from it, and he didn’t want to. Because he deserved it. It belonged to him. It was all he had left.

  Moments later, he felt Erin’s gentle touch on his face. Then Charlie felt Heather’s hands on him too. She smoothed back the mane along his neck, and Charlie shivered as the warm evening breeze reached his sweat-damp skin.

  “Mom,” Erin said. “I can’t believe you’re sitting this close to Charlie.”

  “Neither can I.” Heather’s voice sounded as soft as her touch felt. “But he’s a little less scary when he isn’t standing upright.”

  “I hope he’s gonna be okay.” Erin’s voice wobbled. “I’m so scared for him.”

  “Me too, honey,” Heather said. “Me too.”

  Jasper whined, nosing at Charlie’s face. Charlie tried to lift his head to greet his old friend, but even that small movement seemed impossible.

  “Reva said that maybe Jasper could help us get Charlie up,” Heather said. “Let’s try it.”

  Erin tugged at Charlie’s halter, and Heather tried to lift his neck, while Jasper barked in Charlie’s ears, a ringing, annoying repetition of “Get up, get up, get up.”

  Charlie pedaled his feet weakly, but it was no use. He couldn’t get his feet under him now, even if he wanted to.

  ***

  Adrian had spent a good hour working through emails and tossing treats through the fence. But after eating only one or two morsels, the cat had ignored the treats. Meowing and rubbing at the fence, he seemed to be begging for some other kind of food, which Adrian didn’t have. Reva had already set up the crate with the canned food, but she said the cat wouldn’t approach it until everyone was gone, so Adrian figured he might as well leave so the cat could eat.

  He gathered his stuff and folded the car cover. In the woods nearby, a tomcat yowled threats at Stinky Cat, apparently demanding satisfaction for whatever slights he may have endured in previous fights. “Stinky Cat, you really ought to consider coming over to this side of the fence before you get hurt.”

  But, of course, Stinky Cat didn’t listen. He put his ears back, stared into the trees, and yowled a challenge to the interloper.

  “If you won’t listen, I can’t help you.” Adrian got into his car, shaking his head. He hoped the cat would allow himself to get caught soon. But sitting here wasting his time wasn’t going to make that happen. Not today, anyway.

  He started the motor and looked over his shoulder to back up, then noticed Reva running across the parking lot with her skirts flying out behind her, her hands waving to catch his attention. He rolled down the window. “Have I forgotten something?”

  “No, but…” She clung to the car’s doorframe and caught her breath. “We need your help. Heather’s horse is sick. Abby and I are going to help, and Mack is on his way, but we might need a bit more muscle.”

  Adrian looked over at Quinn’s work truck, which was parked in its usual spot. “What about Quinn?”

  “He’s got his son, Sean, this weekend. They’ve already taken my car to go…” She flapped a dismissive hand. “I don’t know. Somewhere. Anyhow, I’ll pack up the dinner I just made to bring along. We might have to take turns eating, but at least we won’t starve before morning.”

  “What’s wrong with the horse?”

  “He is lying down in the field, and Heather and Erin can’t get him up.”

  Adrian knew what that meant: The horse probably had colic, a severe abdominal pain that, depending on its cause, could lead to fatal consequences. An impaction or obstruction could result in tearing or twisting of the intestines, so getting the horse on his feet was a life-or-death proposition.

  Adrian’s family had owned a horse before Hurricane Katrina turned everyone’s world upside down. He knew how to handle horses, so his help could be critical in this situation. “Okay. I’ll follow y’all in my car.”

  “Thanks, Adrian,” Reva said. “It’ll take me a minute, though. Abby’s packing up the food, and I’ll have to change into jeans and get some lead ropes and a lunge line from the barn. I don’t know what all Heather has at her place.”

  “Bring a whip too,” he suggested.

  “I’ll do that.” Reva turned to go.

  Then Adrian thought of something else. “Hey, Reva. Do you know if Heather has a horse trailer? If we can get Charlie to go inside, it might help.” Being trailered might generate enough adrenal activity to loosen the horse’s impacted bowels. Horses who weren’t used to being loaded onto a trailer were often just scared enough to shit the moment they were forced to load up.

  Adrian knew this because horse, Bluebell, had done the same thing when they’d loaded him onto a rescue transport just before Katrina hit.

  “We can take the barn’s trailer,” Reva said. “Can you hook it up to Quinn’s truck while I finish getting everything else together? The keys are in the ignition.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Adrian rolled up his window and turned off his car. Having learned his lesson the first time, he took the canvas cover out of the trunk and tossed it over the car before trekking across the parking lot toward Quinn’s truck.

  Adrian drove the truck around to Bayside Barn and hooked up the trailer, still thinking about everything his family had lost in Hurricane Katrina. His old horse, Bluebell, had been adopted out wherever he ended up after the evacuation. Their black-and-white cat—who had looked a lot like the feral tomcat—had refused to come out of hiding when it was time to pack up and leave before the storm hit. He was unlikely to have survived. Their neighborhood had been hit hard; the houses had flooded to the rooftops. It had taken over a year to accomplish the necessary renovations, including a very costly undertaking to lift the entire house up past the newly calculated flood level. Katrina had, literally, blown their lives off-kilter.

  “Enough,” he said out loud. “Stop thinking.” It wasn’t like him to dwell on the past, but every now and then—especially when faced with an emergency situation reminiscent of their flight out of New Orleans—those old memories rose up to bite him.

  He parked the truck and trailer on the drive next to Reva’s house and helped Reva and Abby load up all the stuff they’d gathered. “Y’all want me to drive?”

  “I’ve got it,” Reva said. “Take your car so we have more than one vehicle in case Mack decides to transport Charlie to the vet.”

  “Okay. See y’all at the road.”

  The sky had darkened while they’d been rushing around, so Adrian used his phone to light the way to his car. When he made it past the shelter and its outbuildings, he lifted the beam to pinpoint his parked car. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. For a half second, he’d thought that the jughead tomcat sitting on the canvas-covered hood was his family’s old cat. Impossible, of course. It was just another old ghost, rising up. “Here, kitty,” Adrian called softly.

  At the sound of Adrian’s voice, the cat sprang off the hood of the car and hit the ground running. In less than a minute, it had climbed the eight-foot-tall chain-link fence and leaped into the thick wall of trees, bushes, and vines that stood as a natural barrier between the shelter a
nd the road.

  Adrian shook off the spooky feeling of having seen a ghost.

  ***

  Charlie’s gut twisted. The pain pulsed with every heartbeat, consuming him, shutting out all but the pain that writhed inside him like a live animal trying to claw its way out.

  Dimly, Charlie heard Jasper’s frantic barking. The dog, his friend, circled and barked, circled and barked. He even nipped the air beside Charlie’s face, trying to force Charlie to get up. To stand. To live.

  Charlie was past that point. The pain was too great, the effort of moving too impossible.

  A pair of blazing lights came toward Charlie across the field. Then another pair, from a slightly different direction. Charlie closed his eyes, but the bright lights pierced through his closed eyelids. Slamming sounds as loud as gunfire made him flinch.

  Loud voices buzzed around Charlie’s head like flies. Rough hands smacked his hide, stinging his skin, keeping him from sinking further into his belly pain. He heard the sounds of a whip cutting the air, then felt the whip’s tassel flickering at his hooves like hissing snakes. Charlie pedaled his feet to escape the feeling of snakes slithering all around his feet. He twitched his ears to shut out the hissing sound of snakes rising up from the ground. Hands clapped loudly beside his head. Jasper barked, barked, barked. People yelled. “Get up, Charlie. Get up. Get up.”

  He couldn’t get up.

  Another set of lights came toward him across the field, surrounding him in a painful bright glow. More loud slamming sounds.

  “This isn’t working.”

  “We’re losing him.”

  He heard Erin’s wailing cries and Heather’s soft voice saying, “We’ve got this. Go inside and take care of the twins. Make sure they get their baths and then tuck them in.”

  “Clip those lead ropes together,” someone else said. “Let’s try…”

  Charlie felt many hands behind him, rocking him forward, urging him up onto his legs. But his legs trembled and crumpled beneath him.

  Voices came at him from all sides. “Get up. Get up. Come on, you can do it.”