The Christmas Pony (13 page)

“What was that all about?” Grandma asked when Lucy returned to the kitchen.

“Oh . . . nothing.”

Grandma filled a teapot with steaming water, put the lid on, then slipped a crocheted tea cozy around it. “Well, here's a whole pot of very hot tea,” Grandma told her. “Get it directly to Mrs. Dorchester. She's been ringing that bell almost nonstop for the last few minutes, and my nerves are wearing thin.”

Lucy glanced at the loaf of pumpkin bread fresh out of the oven. “Should you send her a slice of that too?”

Grandma frowned, then nodded. “You're probably right, Lucy. It might help to keep her quiet for a spell. At least long enough for me to get dinner ready.”

“Do you think we can still string popcorn tonight?” Lucy asked a bit timidly.

Grandma's face softened as she set two slices of pumpkin bread on a saucer. “Of course we can, Lucy. We'll have hot cocoa too.” She patted Lucy's head. “You'll have to forgive me for being out of sorts.”

“I do, Grandma.” Lucy picked up the tray. “I understand.”

“Yes,” Grandma said sadly. “I'll bet you do, dear.”

After dinner, Mr. Dorchester turned in early, so only Mama and Grandma and Lucy remained in the front room with the oversized and sparsely decorated Christmas tree. True to her word, Grandma made hot cocoa, and they sat around listening to the Christmas songs on the radio and stringing popcorn. Lucy thought that in spite of all that had gone on today, they were having a pretty good time.

But sometimes, as she was reaching for more fluffy white pieces of popcorn to slip onto her sharp needle, Lucy would glance at Mama. If Mama didn't know Lucy was looking, the sadness would show in her eyes. Lucy didn't know if Mama would ever smile again, and it cut Lucy to the core. Plus, she couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible for this pain. After all, hadn't she encouraged Mama to put her hopes in George? Talking him up and telling Mama how she thought he was falling in love. Had Lucy imagined these things? Now she blamed herself for Mama's broken heart. Because that's what Lucy thought it was—a broken heart.

Lucy wished she'd never seen George and Veronica in town that day, never invited them to stay at the house, never welcomed them into her life . . . and never trusted them with her secrets. Maybe this was what Mama was talking about when she said that Lucy would see things differently when she was a grown-up. Maybe Lucy was closer to being a grown-up than she realized. However, she would follow Mama and Grandma's example. Lucy would keep up a brave front. After all, it was Christmas Eve.

A
lthough Mama had told Lucy she could stay up past her bedtime tonight, Lucy wasn't so sure she wanted to. After she'd finished her last garland of popcorn, one that was taller than she was, she admitted that she was tired and happy to go to bed at her usual time.

“I'm with you, Lucy.” Grandma stood and stretched her back. “It's been a long day, and I'm plumb worn out.”

“Goodnight, Grandma.” Lucy went over and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Mama.” Lucy was ready to give her a kiss too, but Mama stood.

“Do you mind if I help you get ready for bed tonight?” she asked Lucy hopefully. “Or are you really too big?”

Lucy smiled. “I was hoping you'd ask.”

Just like old times, Mama helped Lucy out of her clothes and into her nightgown. She brushed and rebraided Lucy's hair and listened to her prayers. But she didn't turn the light off right away. Instead she reached over for Lucy's hand, giving it a warm squeeze in her own.

“I know something is wrong,” she told Lucy. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Lucy swallowed hard, looking away.

“I suspect it has to do with George,” Mama said quietly, “and the way he left so suddenly.”

Lucy just nodded.

“I know George was a very good friend to you while he was here, and I suspect it's been hard on you and that you're feeling sad and—”

“I'm not sad for me,” Lucy said suddenly. “Not really.” She considered this. More than anything she wanted to be completely honest with Mama. “Oh, I guess I'm a little sad for me. Maybe even a lot. But most of all I'm sad for you, Mama.”

“Oh . . .” Mama just nodded. “Well, you probably have figured out that I'm a little sad too.”

“I feel like it's all my fault.” Lucy started to cry now. “I did everything all wrong. I invited George and Veronica into our house. I trusted them. I thought they would pay for their rooms and they didn't. And I made you believe George loved you and—”

“Wait a minute, Lucy.” Mama pointed a forefinger in the air. “You did
not
make me believe anything. If I believed something, it's because I chose to believe it.”

“But I saw how he looked at you. I told you things that—”

“I'm a grown woman, Lucy. I have eyes to see with.”

With tears pouring down her cheeks, Lucy sat up and wrapped her arms around Mama's neck. “I'm just so sorry, Mama. I wish I could go back and change everything back to how it used to be. If I found a genie in a lamp, I'd make a wish that George and Veronica never came to visit us. That I'd never seen them in town that day.”

Mama stroked Lucy's hair. “But maybe it was a good thing they came.”

Lucy leaned back to look into Mama's face. How could she possibly think that? George and Veronica had brought nothing but pain—and they didn't even pay their bill.

“Maybe it showed me something . . .” Mama sighed. “Something about myself . . . something I needed to be reminded of.”

“What?”

Mama made a smile—or maybe it was just half a smile, but it seemed genuine to Lucy. “Maybe it showed me that it might be possible to fall in love again, Lucy. Someday . . .”

Lucy blinked. “Really, Mama?”

Mama nodded. “Maybe so.”

“But does it hurt to feel like that?”

Mama shrugged. “Some kinds of hurts can be good for us.” She helped Lucy lean back into her pillow, tucking the covers snugly back around her chin again. “Remember that time you got a bad splinter in your thumb and how much it hurt to pull it out? But when it was done, you knew it was a good hurt because the sliver was gone and the wound would get better. So it was a healing kind of hurt. Does that make any sense?”

Lucy nodded, although she wasn't sure she really understood. Mostly she was just relieved to see that Mama wasn't as sad as Lucy had imagined.

“Don't feel bad for my sake. And please, do not blame yourself.” Mama leaned over and kissed Lucy's forehead again. “Because, really, I am fine.”

“I'm fine too, Mama.”

“Don't forget, tomorrow is Christmas day. I'm sure we'll all have a very good day now, won't we?”

“Yes.” Lucy smiled as she remembered the presents she'd made and wrapped. “Yes, we most certainly will!”

Mama stood and pulled the string on the light. “Good night, darling.”

“Good night, Mama.”

Lucy closed her eyes and let out a long sigh of relief. Oh, she still felt a little bit sad and sore inside . . . kind of like her thumb had felt before it got well again. But she did feel hopeful. Mama was going to be all right. And she'd almost smiled again tonight.

Lucy was just starting to drift off to sleep when she heard the sound of clumping and thumping and then footsteps in the house. She sat up in bed and listened hard—if Tommy Farley hadn't ruined her childish hopes of Santa Claus visiting on Christmas Eve, she might have actually thought that he'd come to her house after all. As it was, she wanted to find out what was going on. Silently slipping out of bed, she tiptoed to the head of the stairs and, clinging to the stair rail post, she listened.

“George?”
Mama's voice sounded shrill with surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I thought I was staying here,” he told her. “But I'm terribly sorry to get in so late. I was hoping everyone would still be up . . . since it's Christmas Eve.”

Unable to believe her ears, Lucy ran down the stairs and into the front room, nearly crashing into Mama.
“George!”
Lucy exclaimed. “You came back!”

He gave her a sheepish grin as he removed his snow-coated hat. “I hadn't meant to be so late and to wake up the entire house. But yes, like a bad penny, I'm back.”

“Where on earth have you been?” Mama asked. “And where is Veronica?”

“It's a long story.” George started to peel off his coat, taking it over to the hall tree by the door to hang it up.

Mama frowned at Lucy. “You were in bed, young lady.”

“But you told me I could stay up past my bedtime tonight,” Lucy reminded her.

Mama nodded. “I suppose you deserve to hear this too.” She reached for the crocheted afghan blanket on the back of the sofa. “Wrap up in this if you plan to stay and listen.”

Lucy draped herself in the blanket, and soon they were all seated as George explained what had happened. “Veronica decided that she had to leave here,” he began. “Unfortunately she made this decision shortly after midnight. It seemed a little crazy, but I was so relieved that she wanted to go that I finally decided to accommodate her. So I drove her to the railway station in Flagstaff.”

“In the middle of the night?” Mama seemed a little doubtful.

“And you took your things,” Lucy added.

He looked confused. “My things?”

“Your room was cleared out, George.” Mama frowned at him.

He gave her a bewildered smile. “Did you check the closet and the drawers?”

“Well, no . . . but all of Veronica's things were gone . . . and your room looked vacated, and—”

“I just like to put my things away,” he told her. “If you'd looked a bit more, you would've seen that everything, including my suitcase, was still here.”

“Oh . . .” Mama's brow creased. “So you took Veronica to the Flagstaff train station . . . and then?”

“As you know, it was late at night. As it turned out, the next westbound train didn't leave until six in the morning. So I gave Veronica enough money for a ticket and a room for the night, and then I dropped her off at a nearby hotel.”

“She really was penniless?” Lucy asked.

“That's what she told me,” he said. “Just last night, in fact. Before that I had no idea she was broke.”

“That's what she said to me too,” Lucy confessed. “But she had enough to take us to the movies.”

“Veronica Grant had
no
money?” Mama looked somewhat suspicious now. “Even though she dressed so finely, had so many expensive things?”

Lucy explained about Veronica's movie friend who'd taken all her money and dropped her off on the side of the road. “That's when George gave her a ride.”

“Then how did she plan to pay for her room here?” Mama asked.

George held up his hands. “I have no idea. But don't worry. I plan to cover that for her too.”

“But why
should
you?” Mama demanded. “Furthermore, why are you buying Veronica Grant train tickets and hotel rooms and paying her room and board, George? What do you owe her?”

“I don't owe her a thing.” George held his hands palms upward, with a puzzled and somewhat tired look. “I suppose it was to get her out of your hair and on her way, Miriam.”

“I heard Veronica talking last night,” Lucy told Mama. “She sounded really eager to get out of here. She'd told me lots of times before that she wanted to leave and go to Hollywood. But she had no money.” Lucy glanced at George. “I think she had another reason for staying too.”

“What was that?” George asked.

“I think she wanted George to marry her.” Lucy directed this to Mama.

“What?” Mama's brows lifted.

George laughed. “Well, trust me, there was never the slightest chance of that happening, Miriam. Not a snowball's chance in Tahiti.”

“Why not?” Mama folded her arms across her front with her head tilted to one side.

His eyes twinkled. “Because Veronica is
not
the kind of woman that interests me.”

“Even though she is so beautiful?” Lucy asked him.

He looked directly at Lucy now. “I'll be honest with you. When I first saw Veronica standing alongside the road, she did turn my head somewhat. For a moment I actually thought I was seeing things. But after she got in the car and as I got to know her—and, believe me, that didn't take more than a few hours—I knew without a shadow of doubt that Veronica Grant, as pretty as she might be, would never be the one for me. But by then I couldn't manage to shake her off. I tried to drop her off a number of times, but she kept making excuses to travel with me. I had no idea she was broke.” He rubbed his chin. “Come to think of it, that explains a lot.”

Mama stood now, pacing back and forth across the room as if she was trying to grasp all this, as was Lucy. Then Mama went over to look out the big front window. “I didn't hear your car drive up, George. Where is it?”

“That's part of the reason I'm so late.”

“What happened to your car?” Lucy asked with concern.

“It broke down again.” He chuckled. “I'm starting to think that it's not just lemon yellow but a lemon as well.”

“Huh?” Lucy had no idea what he meant.

“How did your car break down?” Mama asked. “And where is it?”

“It happened last night. I was on my way back here, hoping that I'd slip back into the house and into bed and no one would be the wiser. Then I'd be the hero at the breakfast table when I announced to everyone that Veronica was on a train to Los Angeles. It seemed a good plan to me.”

“That would've been nice,” Lucy told him.

“Instead, I was stuck in a broken down car, just outside of Flagstaff, and just as the snow was starting to fall. It was coming down heavy and I wasn't sure if I was going to be buried alive in a snowdrift. But I pulled out the car robe and wrapped myself up in it and said my prayers and fell asleep. Well, I slept off and on. I did a lot of praying and thinking too.”

“Weren't you scared?” Lucy asked.

“To be honest, I was. But I also had a sense of peace too. Somehow I knew everything would work out. Finally, about an hour after sunrise, which was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen, a farm truck happened along, and the good man gave me a ride back into Flagstaff.”

George explained how he had to wait several hours in a Flagstaff coffee shop for a tow truck. “Being that it was Christmas Eve, not everyone was eager to work.” Then he told how his car was towed to Hempley's Garage, but due to a couple of slippery incidents, it took nearly three hours.

“Why didn't you just go to a Flagstaff garage?” Mama asked.

“Because I was staying here,” George told her. “And Hempley's is nearby. I tried to call the house this afternoon, but no one answered.”

“It's been a very busy day,” Mama told him. “We had Christmas songs on the radio, and we might not have heard the phone ringing.”

“Well, anyway, I had dinner at the café, and after Hempley finally had a chance to look under the hood, he told me that it was only a broken belt. He offered to fix it, but I felt bad for taking him away from his family. I told him it could wait until after Christmas, and then I walked on out here.” He shook his head. “Thanks to the snow, I somehow wandered down the wrong driveway, so it took even longer than expected.” He sighed. “It's been a very long day.”