Beach Ride (8 page)

“I can understand that. You mean you like being with my dad, but you couldn’t fall in love with anybody right now?”

Midge nodded.

“Okay, so what’s the other problem?”

“The other problem is your aunt Joanna. She’s a meddler. She thinks she knows what’s right for me and she thinks she knows what’s right for your dad. I think she’s wrong on both counts, but she’s a good friend of mine and I love her a lot. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I’m not going to pretend something just to make her feel good. Besides that, if your father and I
were
to start seeing one another—a tricky business considering how far apart we live—Joanna would never be able to keep her fingers out of it. She’d be telling him things about me constantly and she’d be telling me things about him all the time. She’d want to run the whole thing. Why, I’m telling you, Carole, I swear that somewhere in the back of her
mind are wedding plans for us. She asked me what size dress I wore, and I’ll bet you she’s got her own wedding dress in the attic and that’s what she’s thinking!”

Carole started laughing and found herself choking on some popcorn. Midge waited patiently until she recovered.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

Carole took a sip of her soda. “Well, Midge, if she’s got a wedding dress in her attic, she may also have some bridesmaid’s dresses, too, because she was asking me what size dress
I
wore.”

Midge laughed then, too. “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her I don’t wear dresses. I’m usually in jeans or riding clothes. That made her scowl.”

Carole thought for a minute then. “I suppose that if you and Dad each reminded Aunt Joanna that you’ve been doing fine on your own for some time now and don’t really need her help, she just wouldn’t believe you, would she?”

“I considered it,” Midge said. “But you’re right. Either she wouldn’t believe me or else she’d be hurt. Besides, someday I may be ready to fall for a guy she says is perfect for me. Someday that might be your dad. Not today, though. Incidentally, I have the feeling that he feels about the same way. He’s talked an
awful lot about another woman, one named Dana? I think he’s more than a little sweet on her, and I think she’s a very lucky woman.”

“I think so, too,” said Carole. She wouldn’t have minded telling Midge more about Mrs. Dana, but she thought it was her father’s job to do that. She didn’t want to meddle. One meddler in the family was enough.

“Now don’t we have some shopping to do?” Midge asked.

They did, indeed. In the next hour and a half, Carole thought they went into forty shops, and she also thought they’d left another forty untouched. She’d intended to buy only little gifts for Stevie and Lisa, but found that there was so much to buy that, well, she couldn’t help herself. She stopped only when she ran out of money. By then, it was time for the parade.

While they waited for the parade to begin, Carole scribbled a postcard to Lisa and Stevie. She wrote, “This place is fantastic. And tomorrow may be even better. I’m going riding on the beach with Sheila. Can’t wait. And can’t wait to see you! Love, Carole.”

The rest of the day was as magical as the start had been. The parade featured lots of familiar characters, bright lights, grand music, marching bands, and circus-style performers. There was time after the parade
for them to have another set of “interest groups,” and that took Carole and Sheila to the Mad Tea Party as well as the Haunted House, the Jungle Cruise, and into a submarine that took them Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. The girls were totally exhausted by the time they met up with the rest of the group, but a good dinner woke them up enough so that they could stay alert for the fireworks spectacle. After all, who could sleep through fireworks?

Completely spent, the six weary fun seekers made their way back to Uncle Willie’s car. Nobody complained about poking elbows on the way back. Everybody but Uncle Willie, who was driving, was too sound asleep.

W
HEN
C
AROLE WOKE
up the next morning, she knew there was something special coming. She just couldn’t remember what it was. The sun shone brightly through the window of Sheila’s room. That was a hint, she knew. In the kitchen downstairs, she heard somebody drop something. It made a nice comfortable thumping sound—just like the sound of a hoofbeat. That was it. She and Sheila were going to have a horseback picnic on the beach. That was more than enough to make any day special!

She sat up and climbed out of bed.

“Come on, let’s get going,” she said to Sheila in the bed next to hers. But Sheila wasn’t there. Carole
glanced at her watch. It was nine-fifteen already. Sheila was probably the one who’d dropped something in the kitchen and Carole should be down there, too, helping to make their picnic.

Carole washed and dressed quickly and then went down the back stairs.

Sheila and Aunt Joanna were in the kitchen, and they were both working. They were also talking, and Carole had the feeling an interruption right then might not be welcome.

“I’m telling you, Sheila, you’re going to have to get rid of that pony. He’s just eating up a lot of hay and doing you no good at all.”

“But Mom, that’s
Maverick
you’re talking about,” Sheila said. “He’s like my best friend.”

“He’s no friend to you when he’s keeping you from winning any ribbons in every show you enter. You’re a full-sized rider and you need a full-sized horse.

As Carole listened, she could tell that these words had been well rehearsed by both Joanna and Sheila. It was a tired argument and it was going nowhere. Carole took another step down the stairs to put an end to the argument, at least temporarily, when it took another turn.

“Look at your cousin Carole,” Aunt Joanna persisted. “She’s got a new horse—practically a green
horse—and she’s trained it so well that she got the reserve champion ribbon in the junior intermediate division at Briarwood! And she’s younger than you are!”

Carole was uncomfortable with that. Even though Aunt Joanna was right, she
had
gotten the reserve champion ribbon, she didn’t like the fact that she was being used for comparison in a disagreement between Joanna and Sheila. Sheila was bound to be resentful and Carole was embarrassed and a little bit annoyed to find herself part of this ongoing fight.

“Carole is a very good rider,” Sheila said. Carole sighed with relief. At least Sheila wasn’t openly resentful. “And she’s put in hours and hours of work training that horse.”

“You could do the same,” said Aunt Joanna.

“And I’d be glad to do it—with somebody else’s horse.”

“Good morning!” Carole said cheerfully.

“Oh, hi, we were just talking about you,” Aunt Joanna said. “I was telling Sheila how proud your dad was about the reserve champion ribbon you won at Briarwood with that new horse of yours, Starlight.”

“That was a fun experience,” Carole said. “But I have the feeling that our picnic on the beach is going
to be even more fun. What do you know about the horse I’m riding?”

“He’s a great chestnut gelding named Brandy,” Sheila began. And she had a lot more to say about him than that. Carole sighed with relief as she listened to a description of Brandy’s wonderful qualities. She’d managed to shift the topic of conversation. The only other time the issue arose before they left for their picnic was when Aunt Joanna and Carole were alone.

“You’ve just got to talk her into letting us sell that old pony!” Aunt Joanna said. “He’s not doing her any good at all, and she simply refuses to consider it. She’s so stubborn! It comes from her father’s side of the family, you know—”

At that Carole stifled a laugh. Sheila’s stubbornness absolutely did not come from Uncle Willie! Luckily Sheila joined them before Carole could respond.

“Ready?” Sheila asked.

“You bet!” Carole said, and she meant it.

An hour later Carole was mounted on Brandy and fully informed about him. She had been told that he had a sweet disposition and tended to be a little lazy, but he was extremely gentle and would try to please her, as long as she didn’t use the crop on him in front
of the girth. He would spook if she did that. Since it wasn’t considered proper form to use the crop anyplace but on a horse’s rear, Carole was sure she and Brandy wouldn’t have any trouble.

Sheila was mounted on Maverick. He was a pretty pony with a sleek coat and bright eyes. His ears flicked alertly, and he seemed ready to do whatever Sheila asked of him. There was a closeness between them that Carole had seen only rarely between horse and rider. Sheila gave Maverick near invisible instructions with the slightest pressure of her legs, and he responded instantly. Clearly this pair had done so much together for so long that they understood each other perfectly.

It was true that Sheila looked a little odd on the pony. Maverick wasn’t in any danger with a full-sized person in his saddle, but the proportion of rider to horse was definitely wrong.

Carole rode Brandy around the stable’s ring a few times to get the feel of him and to let him do the same of her. It didn’t take long for each to know that the other was a natural. Carole walked, trotted, and cantered and then slowed the gaits until they were walking again.

“We’re ready,” she announced, and the stable owner agreed.

Sheila opened the gates of the ring, and the two of them rode out.

The path led from the ring down to the seaside. Carole was accustomed to seeing fields and woods beyond the riding ring, not palm trees and sand. It was beautiful! And then there was the ocean, the Atlantic. Down here in Florida it wasn’t the musty gray that it was on the northern coasts. It was a startling aqua blue.

The horses stepped on the sand tentatively at first, and then, as they neared the water and the sand became firmer, the horses were more sure-footed.

They walked for a while, allowing both the horses and riders to become accustomed to the seashore. For Carole, it was somewhat a matter of getting used to the feel of a horse who was walking on sand, but it was more a matter of taking in the sights.

“This is great!” she declared.

“Sure is,” Sheila agreed.

To their right was what seemed like an endless line of palm trees, shading the upper reaches of the beach. Some had coconuts and some just long, broad leaves that moved gently in the sea breeze, shifting the shadows along the edge of the beach.

To their left was an endless expanse of aqua water, dotted here and there by boats, small sailboats, large
sailboats, powerboats and ocean liners. There were also a few tankers and barges, but those were farther away. They reminded Carole that the ocean wasn’t just for pleasure. It served as a major conduit of transportation and commerce for the entire coastal area.

A speedboat zipped along nearby, skipping across the waves, from crest to crest. It made a horrendous noise, and Brandy flinched ever so slightly. Carole shortened the reins and held a little more tightly with her legs. The horse was reassured by her strength, and relaxed.

“Ready to try trotting?” Sheila asked.

Carole was ready and said so. Maverick started his easy, smooth trot, and it took little work to convince Brandy to follow suit. Carole rose and sat with the beat of his gait, posting naturally. She always enjoyed trotting, and Brandy seemed to agree that it was a nice way to go. Although Carole had been warned that Brandy could be lazy, he kept his gait and didn’t give Carole a minute of concern.

“Canter?”

“Yes!” Carole called back to her cousin.

Brandy heard the word and was ready. The instant Maverick began cantering, Brandy began as well.

Brandy was a full-sized horse, and though Maverick had quick gaits for a pony, he was just a pony, and his
legs were shorter than Brandy’s. Within a few strides, Brandy was ready to pass Maverick. Carole held Brandy back. Sheila was in the lead and should stay that way. Brandy obeyed, though Carole thought she could sense his disappointment. He shortened his stride and remained in place behind Maverick.

Cantering on Brandy was just as much fun as trotting. The palm trees to their right seemed to whiz by them. A few swimmers and sunbathers stood up from their towels to watch the girls ride by. Some waved. Carole waved back. It was almost like being in a parade!

Sheila drew Maverick back down to a walk.

“Dad was going to drop off our picnic up here a bit,” she said. She rose in the saddle to see if she could spot her father. There was Uncle Willie, standing in the shade of a palm tree, next to a large picnic cooler and some buckets for the horses. He was waving at his daughter.

At first the girls had wanted to carry the picnic themselves, but when Aunt Joanna kept adding goodies for them to eat and drink, it became apparent that they were going to have trouble carrying all that on their horses. Then, when Sheila and Carole began adding things of their own, suntan lotion, towels, snorkels and masks, flutterboards, they just had to ask
Uncle Willie to help. He was glad to do so, and the girls suspected that was, in part, because it would allow him to give them one more warning about being careful.