The Christmas Pony (4 page)

Lucy shrugged. “I don't know who Clark Gable is.”

Veronica laughed. “Well, you will, doll. Believe you me, that man will be around for quite some time. And I'd wager that someday you'll see Clark Gable and me right up there on the silver screen together.”

“I can't wait!”

“Anyway, back to my story. After he rescued me out on the open highway, George and I traveled for nearly two days straight just to make it this far, and then his silly old car had to go and break down on us this morning.” She frowned. “I still don't know what I'm going to do about that.”

“About what?”

“About getting myself to Hollywood, of course.”

“Maybe you can just stay here for a while,” Lucy suggested hopefully. “You said you were tired and needed your beauty rest. Why not get some beauty rest right here?”

“For a little girl, you're a smart one, aren't you?”

Lucy smiled.

“Now that your mother understands that”—she giggled in a nervous way—“that there is no sort of impropriety going on here, well, maybe I'll do just like you said. I'll get myself all rested up and refreshed real nice. Then I'll be at my very best when I head off to Hollywood. Perhaps we'll get lucky and George's pretty car will get its motor fixed sooner than they expected.”

“Hempley's Garage is a very good place to get cars fixed.” Lucy declared this as if she were an expert in such things, but mostly she just wanted to be sure Veronica stayed with them for a while. It was almost like having a motion picture right in their own house, and Lucy wanted to hear more of Veronica's interesting stories.

“Well, it's not like we had a choice in garages.” She chuckled. “Don't take this wrong, but Maple Grove is a real hole in the wall.”

“But it is nice and quiet here,” Lucy pointed out. “A good place to rest up.”

“Yes. And I can't really complain about the company either.” She made a dreamy looking smile. “Besides . . . you never know . . . there's that old saying about the best-laid schemes of mice and men . . .”

“What's that mean?” Lucy asked.

“Just that . . . well, sometimes things have other ways of working themselves out, if you get my drift.”

“Oh.” Lucy nodded as if she understood.

Veronica yawned and stood. “Thanks for the tea, doll. It was
delish
.”

Lucy jumped up to take the dishes from her.

“Now I think I'll catch a few more winks of beauty rest.”

With the empty cup and saucer in hand, Lucy tiptoed from the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Delish?
Was that short for delicious? Lucy would have to remember to use that word sometime. And maybe she'd try to make her bangs curl around her fingers the way Veronica did. There was so much she could learn from someone like Veronica. As she quietly walked down the stairs, she wondered what Veronica thought about sweet gray ponies and if she'd like to take a walk down the road with Lucy in order to see one.

T
o Lucy's dismay, Veronica did not emerge from her room until dinnertime. George had helped Lucy to pass the time with a couple games of checkers. He claimed not to be any good at checkers, and after the first game, she nearly believed him. But after the second game, she wasn't so sure. She would've challenged him to a third one, but it was time to help Grandma in the kitchen.

When they sat down to dinner, Mama was acting very prim and proper, and Lucy knew this was Mama's way of showing she was not entirely pleased with her boarders. If Mama was enjoying the boarders, she usually made cheerful small talk with them, going out of her way to make everyone feel comfortable. Tonight she was about as warm as the duck pond in January.

Fortunately, Grandma was in a talkative mood and asked George and Veronica a number of questions about themselves. But it was Veronica who kept the conversation rolling along. She didn't mind talking about herself one bit. So far, Lucy had learned that Veronica's parents had owned a music store when Veronica was a girl. “But they had to give up the store in '31,” she said sadly. “Just when I was getting good at the piano too. After the store was gone, I didn't have a piano anymore. But I can play well enough to act like I'm a pianist in a movie.” With her eyes partially closed, she held her hands up over her plate and wiggled her fingers as if playing on a keyboard.

“That looks very real,” Lucy told her.

“What do your parents think about your aspirations of becoming a motion picture actress?” Grandma asked as she served dessert.

“Well, my daddy threw a horrible fit. But my mother kind of likes the idea. She's a real good singer, and she used to do some acting too, back in her day. She told me if I make it big, she'll come out to California and live with me.” Veronica giggled. “I don't think Daddy would much like that, though.”

After dessert was finished, Lucy helped Mama to clean up the dinner things while Grandma sat in the front room with George and Veronica. Lucy wished she could join them, especially when she heard sweet ripples of Veronica's laughter floating toward the kitchen. It seemed like Mama was doing all she could to keep Lucy contained in the kitchen. Finally, after the last dish was dried and put away, Lucy was about to slip out to the front room, but Mama insisted they needed more firewood first.

Lucy considered protesting since the firewood box was nearly half full, but she realized it would probably save time (and trouble) to just hurry and fetch it. She pulled on her coat, then turned on the back porch light, hurried across the yard toward the woodpile with her wagon in tow, and started to load it up.

“Need a hand?” George asked as he joined her.

She looked up in surprise. “I, uh, I don't think Mama likes our guests to help with chores.”

But he was already putting pieces onto the wagon. “I like making myself useful.” For every piece she put in, George stacked several. Then he grasped the handle of the wagon. “Let me take that.”

“Were you smoking out here?” she asked as they walked back.

“Just my pipe,” he confessed. “Is that not allowed?”

“No, it's allowed,” she said quickly. “I was just curious. My daddy used to smoke a pipe too.”

“I don't smoke it a lot,” he told her as they reached the back porch. “But sometimes it's a comfort.” Already he was unloading the wood, stacking it onto his cradled arm. She wanted to tell him that he didn't need to do this, but it seemed too late. Instead, she opened the back door and, carrying the few pieces that were left, followed him into the bright, warm kitchen.

“What?” Mama looked at Lucy with wide eyes.

“I insisted on helping your daughter,” George told her as he unloaded the wood into the firebox. “I hope you don't mind.”

“Well, I . . . it's just that you're our guest.” Mama hung her apron on the peg by the stove and stepped back. “We don't expect you to help.”

He nodded, standing up straight. “I know you don't, ma'am. It's just that it looks like I'll be here a few days, and I find it hard to just sit around and do nothing. If I can do something to keep myself busy, well, it just passes the time a little easier. That is, unless you have objections.”

Mama shrugged as she folded her arms across her front with a slightly aggravated expression. “No objections, Mr. Prescott. If it helps you to pass the time, feel free.”

“Like I told you earlier, please, just call me George.”

Mama simply nodded, but those two creases had reappeared in her forehead again. Lucy knew what that meant.

“Maybe you'd like to play some more checkers?” Lucy suggested to George as she pushed open the door that led
to the dining room. Mostly she hoped to get George out of harm's way since it looked like Mama was about to give him a piece of her mind.

“That sounds like a good plan,” he told her.

Before long, Lucy and George were happily playing checkers. Veronica moved to a chair next to George, looking on and making comments in a way that made Lucy think she was trying to get George's attention. After a bit, Grandma excused herself to bed. But Mama never stepped a toe into the front room, not until it was time to announce that Lucy needed to get ready for bed too.

“We have church tomorrow,” Mama announced. “As always, the guests here are invited to attend with us. Our neighbors, the Brewsters, are always happy to give us a ride.”

“Church?” Veronica's brows arched high. “Well, I haven't been to church in ages.”

“We have to leave by ten to make it on time,” Mama told her. “Breakfast is at eight on Sundays.”

“Eight?” Veronica sounded surprised.

“It's at seven on the other days,” Mama told her.

Veronica laughed. “Well, don't worry about me. I rarely eat breakfast on any days.”

“I wouldn't mind going to church,” George said quietly. “If it's not a problem.”

“It's not a problem at all,” Mama said in a terse tone, “as long as you're ready to go when the Brewsters get here.”

Veronica looked as if she was having second thoughts. “Perhaps I'll come too,” she said. “You say we need to be ready by ten?”

“That's right,” Mama told her as she took Lucy by the hand. “Good night, everyone.”

It wasn't until Mama and Lucy were in Lucy's room with the door shut that Lucy decided to take a chance and speak her mind. “Mama,” she began carefully as she unbuttoned her dress, “it seems that you're not being very
hospitable
to our guests.” Although she didn't use the word a lot, Lucy knew what hospitable meant.

Mama blinked as she handed Lucy her nightgown.

“You and Grandma always tell me that I'm to treat our boarders with respect,” she continued, “because they are our guests and we want them to feel special here.”

Mama pressed her lips together but said nothing as she helped Lucy pull the flannel nightgown over her head. Lucy shivered as the cool fabric brushed against her back. She knew that eight years old was more than old enough to get ready for bed by herself, but this was always the one part of the day when she and Mama spent time together, so she never complained about Mama's help. As usual, she sat down on the hard-backed chair, waiting as Mama reached for the hairbrush and began to undo Lucy's braids, slowly brushing the hair out and then re-braiding it into one braid down Lucy's back.

“I suppose you're right, Lucy. I have been acting inhospitable.”

“Why, Mama?”

“Well, as I already told you, I'm not that comfortable with our boarders.”

“I think they're nice.”

Mama didn't say anything as she set the brush down.

“And isn't it nice they want to go to church with us in the morning?”

“I suppose so.” Her voice sounded tired.

Lucy turned around and hugged Mama tightly. “I'm ready to say my prayers,” she whispered.

Mama nodded, waiting as Lucy knelt down on the rag rug next to her bed. Tonight Lucy didn't ask God to give her a pony. Instead, she thanked him for bringing their boarders to them, and then she asked God to bless everyone in their house. It wasn't until Mama had kissed her good-night and turned off the light that Lucy silently continued her prayer—and now she did ask God for a pony . . . and to bring back Mama's smile.

It was just a little before ten o'clock and as the Brewsters' big old Ford pulled up that Veronica made her appearance downstairs. Lucy was relieved that she was dressed—beautifully dressed in a scarlet red dress—and ready to go to church. George helped her into her fur-trimmed coat, and they all went outside to pile into the car. Usually Mama, Grandma, and Lucy sat in the backseat, but today Grandma sat in front with the Brewsters and Lucy offered to sit in the rumble seat. It was chilly back there, but it was well worth it for the joy of having Veronica Grant (soon-to-be movie star) in their company. Hopefully Helen Krausner would be in church today to see this.

Lucy looked over to Mr. Greenburg's field as the car rumbled past, making sure that Smoky and the “For Sale or Trade” sign were still there. To her relief, they both were.
Hopefully she'd get a chance to pay him a visit tomorrow. Maybe she could talk Veronica into walking down there with her to see him too. The Greenburg farm was only two farms down, really just a nice walk if the weather was favorable.

As it turned out, the Krausners weren't at church, but Veronica Grant got plenty of curious looks from the congregation anyway. Lucy proudly took Veronica by the hand, leading her to the pew where they always sat, and then she squeezed down close to the end to be sure there was plenty of room for everyone in their row.

Lucy always enjoyed the singing part of church the best, and she was happy to share her hymnal with Veronica. She wasn't even too surprised to hear that Veronica had a pleasant soprano voice. No doubt that would be useful in the movie-making business too. Lucy tried to pay attention to the sermon, but instead she was distracted by staring at the beadwork on Veronica's gloves and found herself daydreaming about glamorous things like fancy dresses and sparkling jewelry. When it came time for the final prayer, Lucy was thankful that Pastor McHenry wasn't able to read her mind. She told God that she was sorry and she would try to pay better attention next Sunday.

After the final hymn, Pastor McHenry reminded the congregation of the upcoming events pertaining to Christmas, a little less than two weeks away. “For the children in the Christmas pageant, there will be rehearsals on Thursday and Saturday afternoons at two o'clock. Mrs. Babcock wants to remind everyone not to be late.”

As they walked out to the car after greeting and visiting with friends, Veronica inquired as to whether anyone cared to stay in town to attend a matinee.

“On Sunday?” Mrs. Brewster sounded alarmed.

“No, dear,” Grandma told her. “None of us will be seeing a motion picture today. Of course, you and George might have other ideas.”

“Not me,” George said as he opened a car door for the ladies.

“I'd be happy to go,” Lucy said, knowing full well that this could get her into hot water with Mama. But the idea of seeing a movie with Veronica was too tempting.

“Not on a Sunday,” Mama said sternly.

Veronica leaned over and patted Lucy's cheek. “Then we'll simply have to go another day. Maybe next Saturday.”

Lucy smiled up at her. “I'd love that.”

The perfectly delightful idea of going with Veronica to the movie theater, where Helen Krausner might see them together, was almost enough to keep Lucy warm all the way home. Although her nose did feel like an ice cube by the time the car rumbled up to their house.

“Let's get you inside,” Mama said as she took Lucy by the hand, leading her directly to the kitchen where the fire was still burning in the stove.

“It almost feels like it could snow out there,” Grandma said as she closed the door and began peeling off her heavy winter coat.