Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail (5 page)

“Yow?” said the man on the other end.

“Oh, so sorry. I accidently spilled hot coffee. Let’s start over. Hello, this is Sam Fox. Can I help you?” she laughed.

“Ow, that hurts. Sorry if I caused the spill. My name is Devon Spencer and I’m calling about your friends from New Jersey.”

“Are they okay? Has anything happened?” she asked, now fully alert. “They were supposed to arrive yesterday but I think they took a side trip.”

“They’re perfectly fine. I just hung up with Brenda,” he continued. “I’m about forty minutes away with their collie, Flannel.”

“Oh, okay, right. Now I remember. Brenda said she had a friend who offered to drive her dog. How’s the dog doing?”

“She’s perfectly happy. She wasn’t eating while she traveled, but she’s plenty hungry now. My young daughter, Milla, may just steal her if they don’t look out.”

“She’d better not!” Sam laughed. “The dog’s ten-year-old owner ain’t too happy moving from New Jersey and Flannel is about the only comfort of home she has.”

“Ten, huh? That’s the same age as my daughter. I’ll have to tell her there’s a new kid coming to town. Your friend, Brenda, said they would arrive this weekend so I told her to call when she does and we’ll run the dog over after she settles in.”

“Great,” said Sam. “I really appreciate it because I am up to my ears with guests this week. There’s some sort of anti-round-up convention going on.

“Oh, I know all about that,” he said, dismally. “I work for the other side. I head up the center that manages the Calico horses after they’re gathered and brought here. My name is mud most days but you can call me Devon.”

“I’d hate to be you this week. You better lay low. These people look angry,” she laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me about it,” he said. “They call me a horse killer, but they’re clueless about my job. They would rather picket and throw accusations instead of taking the time to realize they are shooting the messenger. Take it up with their elected officials—I’m just the guy following orders.”

“Well, all I know is that they get themselves worked up and then want me to hang up posters and flyers with anti slogans on them. I tell them all the time if I do it for you I have to do it for the other guys, so your posters and brochures are hanging up right beside theirs.”

“I bet they love that,” he laughed.

“Hey, that’s not my problem. Fresh linens, keeping them fed, and stocking up on supplies is all I need to worry about. Rounding up wild animals is your department.”

“True enough. Speaking of animals, I need to get back to them so I’ll see you later and pry that pup away from my daughter when your friend gives me a call. Bye, bye,” he said, adding jokingly, “and don’t let the mob talk you into joining up with them.”

“No worries,” Sam replied. “In running this B&B I’ve seen every type of character and now I need to get back to my own herd.” Sam hung up and looked at the phone. Nice guy, she thought. How the heck did he end up with that horrible job? Well, she thought, somebody’s got to manage those horses. I just hope he doesn’t have a logo on the side of his truck when he drops off Carrie’s dog! And he says he has a ten-year-old daughter. Who knows—maybe they could become friends.

“Nope, too easy,” she said aloud, waking Max from his nap. Kids like to pick out their own friends and she decided then and there that she would just stay out of the whole mess. Max sent her a lazy wink as if he agreed, and stretched.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Max,” she said, grinning at the cat. “I picked you out a new friend…a girl named Flannel and she’s about your age. I think you’re going to love her.”

Chapter 10

Utter darkness and silence surrounded her. It seemed as if it were waiting for her to peer within like a door unopened. The black began to move and form a dark liquid. Was this black water? Carrie thought, as it began to flow like a river under a night sky. Slowly she realized she was flying overhead, moving quickly over the dark sea. Suddenly, the blackness disappeared and she found herself looking down over a colorful landscape. Mountains covered in calico fabric were everywhere and she felt like a bird as she flew with ease over them. They looked like patches of fabric and each piece had flecks of tiny colors scattered throughout. Greens, blues, lavenders, gold, and bits of red dotted the land. As she dipped down into a valley she saw that the fabric changed into dried-up, withered crops. They looked parched and brown and everything looked dead. Next she saw a thick black liquid burst through the ground and it began to spread out from the center going in all directions. It started to tear through the middle of the brown crops as if ripping through a paper bag. She wasn’t sure what this oozing stuff was, but it now covered every inch of the brittle crops. She felt sad looking at all of this blackness.

And then she woke.

Tears began to fall and Carrie reached for her dog. Flannel was like a warm furry security blanket and always seemed to be there whenever she needed a hug. Slowly Carrie’s eyes became focused and she realized she was no longer home.

Home. The tears fell faster as she looked over at her mother sound asleep in the cramped hotel room. They had been traveling almost a week now and the homesickness seemed worst at bedtime and returned at dawn. Oh, yeah—that’s right, Flannel was now in some stranger’s home in Stupid-ville, Nevada. How could her mother have trusted that guy; he was just a guy at work; he wasn’t even family. Carrie would never have trusted anyone if she was in charge. But that was just it, she thought, as fresh tears now burst forward. She had no say in any of this—not the divorce, not the move, and certainly not in the way her mom had placed Flannel in a stranger’s care. She wiped at her eyes, stumbling in the darkness. She choked back a sob and searched for tissues for her runny nose. Inside the bathroom she fell to her knees and cried into the biggest towel she could find.

“Carrie. Oh, Carrie!” Her mother was now stumbling herself and knocked over a hotel lamp. Carrie quickly turned and locked the door. “I’m fine,” she cried. “I just want some privacy, Mom.”

“You’re crying again. I just want to help you. Please let me in.”

“I want to go home. I miss Daddy and Shannon and I miss Flannel and I miss my bed!” she cried out.

“Oh, Carrie, we’ll be arriving at Sam’s today and Flannel will be there waiting for us. We can’t keep doing this. Please open the door and let’s get dressed and go. We can stop and grab a bite on the way. The sooner we get moving the sooner you’ll see Flannel.”

The door opened and Carrie held up her hand as her mom moved forward to hug her. “Please don’t, Mom—just let me get dressed, okay? I don’t want a hug; it really doesn’t make me feel any better. I need to call Daddy. I need to hear his voice.”

Brenda stood frozen as her daughter brushed past her. This entire move had been filled with emotional highs and lows. She was having her own anxiety about relocating. Would she be able to go back to the casino work she had enjoyed in New Jersey? Or would she be changing linens and taking reservations at a resort with her best friend Sam? How could she ever be happy with Carrie so miserable? She held back her own tears and began gathering clothes. Hotels used to represent fun and adventure, now they just felt like continual packing and unpacking on a journey filled with uncertainty.

Friday, June 27:

I think Brianna is Shannon’s new best friend. When we spoke on the phone she said they were going to the beach. Brianna’s okay and all, but Shannon never used to hang out with her. Brianna’s the best kid on the gymnastics team and maybe Shannon will just forget about me now. Who cares about any of this? I don’t want to think of Shannon today. I hope she calls again soon.

I had another flying dream. I called Dad and told him about it. He says I am working out my troubles in my dreams. I think I’m just having cool dreams about flying. I told him how much I hate my life and he says that it will all get better soon. Grownups always say that. But he sure isn’t happy and neither is Mom, so when will it all get better? He says he will see me during a holiday. That seems like a million years away. I hate this stupid car trip and dumb hotel people who always ask me: “Is everything all right?” No, it’s not all right, okay? So go away and smile at somebody else. Geez. Today we’ll get to the new place. I can’t wait to see Flannel. When I get there I’m gonna take a long walk with her and not talk to anybody, maybe forever. Maybe I’ll pretend I can’t speak and then they’ll just leave me alone. I hope Flannel and I get lost and we can just go live alone together in a cave somewhere. I bet all those kids in Stupid-ville, Nevada, don’t even have bikes. They probably stare at their stupid brown desert-dirt all day.

She tucked her journal into her backpack and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. She liked to pretend that the dark frames made her invisible, as if she could watch everyone around her but they couldn’t see her. Walking back to the car she kicked an old crumpled brown bag laying beside the road. She was reminded of her dream, the one about the brown withered crops. Her mom had told her to take a walk and that usually meant she probably needed a break herself. Carrie was learning that people stuck in cars for hours sometimes got irritable and somehow her mom could always sense when they needed time apart. Her mom would go meditate somewhere in a quiet spot while Carrie would find a place to jot down her thoughts. Sometimes she would draw pictures and occasionally write poems but lately she seemed to only write about how awful she felt.

“So about my dream last night,” said Carrie as she got into the car.

“Don’t tell me,” said her mother. “What was it this time…aliens or fields of polka dots?”

“Ha ha. Real funny, Mom. It’s not polka dots, it’s patchwork.”

“Wow,” said Brenda. “I was only kidding. So you had a recurring dream about those patchwork mountains?”

“What’s recurring mean?”

“It’s when you have the same dream again and again. Was it exactly the same as the one you told me about with the fabric mountains?”

“Well, kinda. It was all so nice—it started with shimmering water and then I was flying again, only this time the fabric turned into real mountains and crops and they were all dried up and brown. They looked like the cornfields back home when they are all crinkly. Only it wasn’t just corn and stuff—it was every plant and every blade of grass. Just fields and fields of dead everything everywhere.”

Brenda didn’t speak. She was listening carefully, wondering if she would need to make an appointment with a counselor before school started. Maybe Carrie was experiencing trauma from the divorce and it was bringing on these bad dreams.

“And then it ended like the last dream with that same oozing black stuff that just came up from the middle and spread out. And then I woke up.”

“Oh, so that was just this morning. No wonder you were so shaken…you had a bad dream.”

“No, no, no. That’s not why I was crying! I told you I want to go home,” Carrie said in a huff.

“Okay, okay. Calm down,” Brenda said, trying to steer her daughter away from another discussion about why they couldn’t stay in New Jersey.

“I’m trying to tell you about my cool dream, Mom, and you want to make it about us moving.”

“I’m sorry. What do you think of your dream? What does it mean to you?”

“Well, I think it was so awesome to feel like I was flying again. I was way up high and I could see for miles. It was like I had eyes in the back of my head. It felt as if I was looking in all directions and I could feel the coolness of the air as I flew.”

“Sounds like a bird. If you have this dream again you better check for wings.”

“Wow, that
would
be great if I were a bird. But I don’t think I was an animal. It felt like it was just me. The dried-up crops were awful, though. It felt like something happened to all the beautiful mountains. And the black gunky stuff spread over it so fast, Mom, that nothing could stop it. I actually woke up in tears and I reached for Flannel, but….”

Brenda looked over at her daughter and decided maybe she was working something out on her own. Perhaps she should wait on that call to the counselor. Was Carrie in the process of discovering something new about herself? “Maybe it’s a message. Maybe you’re learning something. Have you tried meditating lately?”

“Well, no. I haven’t done that in months. I try to sit and not think of anything like you taught me, but it’s hard to make everything just go away. Maybe I should try it again; maybe I
am
getting a message about something. What in the world does calico fabric have to do with anything?”

Brenda was a firm believer in meditation. Each morning she would find a quiet space and sit alone in silence. She had been doing it for years and it had taken practice to learn how to move all thoughts aside and just sit in stillness. Sometimes she came away with creative ideas. Sometimes she came away with an answer to a problem she was having and she always felt more peaceful. She had tried teaching friends and some people laughed at her or thought she was following some religious ritual. This was untrue so she had stopped sharing her discoveries with anyone and kept them to herself and her best friend Sam. Teaching Carrie was something she had only thought of recently. Carrie’s anger about the separation was directed at everything around her. Maybe meditation would help ease some of her daughter’s stress; it sure couldn’t hurt, she thought.