A Hourse to Love (4 page)

Animal? This is no animal
, Skye told herself.
It’s
a horse — the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.

Its sharp ears pricked forward as if it could read her mind. A white stripe ran down the middle of its face, and its soft mane and tail blew in the breeze like corn silk. Its reddish-brown coat, sleek and smooth, sparkled in the sun. And the smel ? Like sweet, fresh-mown hay.

“Can I touch it?” Skye asked.

“He’s not an ‘it.’ He’s a gelding,” said Mr.

Chambers.“That’s a male horse that’s been fixed so he can’t reproduce. It takes the wildness out of them.

Sure, touch him, but move slowly. I’l hold his halter.

Pet him on the nose and feel how soft he is.” Skye inched her right hand forward and stroked the warm nose while the horse licked her other hand like a lol ipop. The soft furry hair felt like a velvet pil ow. For that moment, Skye forgot who she was, where she was, or even why she was here. She was speechless.

“He’s a good one, al right,” Mr. Chambers said.“Only fourteen and a half hands high. Just the right size for you.”

“Me?” Skye shrieked. “No way!”

D
espite meeting Champ, settling into a new foster home was as exciting to Skye Nicholson as math homework. In five minutes, she had unpacked her beat-up

suitcase

and

tossed

her

world’s

possessions into three dresser drawers. Most importantly, she had unpacked a tiny tablet of ragged notepaper and a lighter — both tucked away in rol ed-up socks. The tablet was her lifeline to good times — phone numbers of “friends” who helped her get what she needed to make it through each miserable day.

Living with a new set of strangers and al their rules made Skye so anxious that she felt like throwing up. She glanced at the darkness outside the window and then looked at her watch. Only 9:30.

Skye bel y-flopped across the bed and closed her eyes.

One day down and a few dozen to go before I’m
kicked out of here
, she told herself.
Then I’ll move
on to the next nightmare
.

Someone tapped on her door a few times before opening it. Mrs. Chambers carried in a bunch of baby-pink roses stuck in a shiny brown vase. Tucked under one arm were a navy blue sweat suit and some kind of stuffed animal.

“Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said, placing the vase on a desk in the corner, “I want to official y welcome you to our home.”

When her new foster mother sat down beside her, Skye rol ed away, placed her hands behind her head, and stared at the ceiling.

“I know you’ve been through an awful lot,” Mrs.

Chambers continued. Skye didn’t say a word. “I want you to know we’re here to help you. With God’s help, you can make it, kiddo.”

God? You’ve gotta be kidding
, Skye thought.
If
there is a God
,
he’s sure not interested in me. I’ll
give it a month before I’m shipped off to the next rat
hole.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Mrs. Chambers said, trying again to communicate. “But it can wait until tomorrow. You look like you’re ready for bed. We al get up at six o’clock around here, so you need to get some sleep.”

Skye flew up into a sitting position. “Six o’clock?

No way!”

“Yes, way,” was Mrs. Chambers’ flat reply. “We have devotions and chores before we even start breakfast. We’l explain al of that tomorrow morning.

I’l warn you ahead of time, if you don’t get up you’l feel ice-cold water dripping on your face. So be prepared!”

Skye flopped back on the bed, pinched her lips tight, and stared at the ceiling again.
Devotions?

Not in this lifetime.

“Tomorrow wil be busy for al of us. Mr. Chambers wil talk to you about homework, chores, riding the horse, and — wel — you’l see. You and I are going to yard sales and the mal . You’l need something nice to wear to church on Sunday. Let me guess: You’ve never worn a dress and don’t plan to. Right?” Skye turned her head and scowled at her foster mother.

“Thought so,” Mrs. Chambers said. “A nice pair of dress pants and a new blouse wil do just fine.”
Church!
Skye looked back at the ceiling
. Yeah
,
I
remember going to church once. They stuck me in
a class with a bunch of brats. The cookies were
good, but the kids were awful. Then there was
Samantha
,
the weird foster mom. Church to her was
wearing a white robe
,
stringing flowers in her hair
,
and dancing with her other fairy friends under a tree
somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Me at
church? Yeah
,
right!

“I am
not
going to church!” Skye said, glaring at Mrs. Chambers.

“Surprise! You
are
going to church. It’s part of your court order. The judge knows how invaluable church is to any young woman. Give it a chance. You might even like it. There are lots of kids there your age.” From behind her back, Mrs. Chambers pul ed out a stuffed bear in a cowboy suit — ten-gal on hat and al . She whirled him in the air as though hung from puppet strings and then drew him into her chest.

Skye shifted her glance to the woman who held the bear in a warm embrace.

“Skye, I’d like you to meet Dude. Until you accept Tip and Ty, Dude can be your best friend. Now I’l warn you ahead of time, he won’t do wel bouncing off wal s or having his head stuck in the toilet bowl, but he’l love sleeping with you when you feel lonely.

I’ve never known a girl who didn’t have a horde of stuffed animals. I didn’t see any with you, so Dude can be your first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Skye yel ed. “I’m not some baby who plays with dol s.”

“Believe it or not, I made this critter,” Mrs.

Chambers said, ignoring Skye’s remark. “Every foster daughter has gotten one of my creations.

Besides riding, it’s my next favorite way to relax. Do you sew?”

Skye snorted. “No way.”

“Anyway, he’s yours,” Mrs. Chambers said softly.

As she stood, she placed the bear next to Skye.

Then she held up a navy blue Maranatha sweatshirt

— with rainbow letters across the front — and a matching pair of sweatpants.

“Since you’re now an official client of the Maranatha Treatment Center,” Mrs. Chambers said, breaking into a bright smile, “you’ve also earned the right to own this double-duty, not-just-your-ordinary Maranatha sweat suit.” She imitated a barker at the state fair. “Use it for riding, doing dishes, or sleeping. It takes you places in high fashion. Al for the smal price of puttin’ it on, this can be yours today.”

Skye just glared at her.

“It’s a little warm right now to sleep in this, but it’s yours,” Mrs. Chambers said. She folded the sweats and placed them next to the bear. “Would you please sit up for me? What I want to say now is very important.”

An agonizing long pause final y forced Skye to sit up.She folded her arms defiantly.

“Please look at me,” Mrs. Chambers said.

Final y, Skye gave in and glared at her.

“I want you to know that I love you — we al love you — and we’re glad you’re a part of our family now.You’ve already noticed there are no bars on the windows or locks on the doors. You’re free to run, but running wil never solve your problems. If you face them head on you can conquer them. That’s why you’ve been sent here, so you can get the help you need. If you do run, I promise you with no reservations we
will
find you. The only way you’l ever leave here is if we decide it’s time for you to move on to something better. Until then you are our official daughter and we’l treat you that way — no matter what.”

Skye was dumbfounded, but she didn’t let it show.

On the outside, she stil looked tough as nails. Had she actual y heard the word
love
? No one in her thirteen miserable years had ever said that and real y meant it. And the gifts? In Skye’s experience, people gave things when they wanted something in exchange.
What does she really
want?
Skye

wondered. She stared deeply into Mrs. Chambers’

blue eyes.

The woman walked toward the door. She bent down, switching on a nightlight with a prancing horse on the glass cover. Grabbing the doorknob, she turned back. “Good-night, Skye. Pleasant dreams.” The door gently closed, and Skye flopped back on the bed. Her sleepy eyes studied the bear and sweat suit. She yawned and shifted her gaze to the roses on the desk.

What’s with the presents anyway?
she asked herself.
She must want something.

Skye kicked off her sneakers and crawled under the spread without even thinking about changing her clothes. Clicking off a lamp on the nightstand, she grabbed the bear and held him at arm’s length in front of her drooping eyes. The softness of the nightlight il uminated the bear’s face enough to make it look like he was smiling.

Pow!
For some reason she didn’t understand, Skye punched the bear so hard in the nose that his ten-gal on hat went flying across the room. Holding the bear up, she waited, wishing he would cry, but the room was quiet.

Without warning, her own eyes flooded with tears.

She tucked the bear tightly against her chest. Those horrible feelings — being alone at night, unwanted, and scared to death — were there as always. But tonight she didn’t feel so terribly alone. She had this stupid bear — Dude.

With another lonely tomorrow to face, she curled up into a tight bal around the bear, buried her face against his fur, and cried herself to sleep.

E
arly Saturday morning, Skye awakened to her new

“alarm” playing the loudest marching music she had ever heard. Sure enough, her watch said 6:00 a.m.

She covered her head with a pil ow and went back to sleep. The next thing she remembered was cold water dribbling on her face.

“Hey!” Skye barked as she launched herself up, scowling at a smiling Mrs. Chambers.

“Good morning, Skye!” Mrs. Chambers said as she backed toward the door. “It’s Saturday and we have a ful day planned. We don’t want you to miss out on any of the fun. Mr. C. is waiting for you at the barn.”

“Fun?!” Skye snapped.

Mrs. Chambers left and gently closed the door.

While Morgan and Mrs. Chambers made breakfast, Skye went out to the barn, resigned to suffer through the day. There, Mr. Chambers showed her what chores she would be responsible for every day, which included scooping horse poop.

“Of al the thousands — no mil ions — of foster homes, I wind up in one with you stinking hay munchers that poop on your floors
a l l
night long!” Skye complained. “This place stinks! You stink! And life stinks!”

Later after showering, Skye slouched to the breakfast table and sat down with her weird foster family
.

“Let’s pray,” Mr. Chambers said.

Skye refused to bow her head and tried to ignore his long list of thanksgivings.
Chesterfield is looking
better every second
, she moaned inwardly.

“And, Lord, we thank you for this food and the hands that prepared it. Amen,” he said and then reached for a large bowl fil ed with yel ow fluff. “Ah, my favorite. Scrambled eggs, toast, and juice to start a beautiful spring morning. What about you, Skye?”

“I’d rather have a Pop-Tart,” she grumbled.

Mrs. Chambers passed a plate of buttered toast.

“You’re probably not accustomed to eating a good breakfast, but you’l get used to it.”

“Yeah,” Morgan added as she poured juice into four glasses and passed them. “I remember before I came here al I ever scarfed down in the mornings were Twinkies and donuts. No wonder I was bonkers! Sugar brain!”

“Donuts sound pretty good to me,” Skye said, barely scooping out one spoonful of eggs. She forced herself to take a piece of toast from the passing plate.

“Today is going to be an exciting day for Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said to the family. She spread apple butter on her toast. “After devotions, she and I are going to yard sales and the mal . Morgan, would you like to cal Rita? I’m sure you can spend the day over at her house.”

“No thanks, Mrs. C,” Morgan replied. “I have a big report due on Monday, and I want to clean my room before I get arrested for aiding and abetting dust bunnies.”