Friendly Foal (13 page)

We usually ride to church with the Barkers. But since the Barker Bus would have been too crowded with Granny Barker and Catman, Dad drove us in the cattle truck.

Ralph Evans is our substitute pastor. His real job is at the animal shelter, but he's a great pastor too. He was wearing khakis and a long-sleeved white shirt instead of his white animal-shelter jacket. Otherwise he was exactly the same Ralph.

This morning he talked about New Year's resolutions, making and breaking them. “God's not waiting to zap you if you don't keep your word,” Ralph said. “You're not doing God any favors by making him big promises to last a whole year. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Goals are good. It's probably going to take
me
a whole year to lose my extra Christmas weight.” He patted his stomach, and we all chuckled with him.

“But mostly, I think God wants us to be faithful in little things, one day at a time, just walking with Jesus.”

I liked that. Being patient and peaceful a little bit at a time sounded a whole lot better than promising I'd be that way for a whole year.

“And if you blow it,” Ralph continued, “you don't have to wait a whole year to make another resolution. Just tell God you're sorry. He'll be right there handy, ready to help. He won't let you down.”

Ralph's smile faded. “On the other hand, I can almost guarantee that
someone
is going to let you down next year. And you're going to let someone down too. The good Lord knows we're human. But don't give up on each other. When someone lets you down, look past that friend you
can
see to that Friend you
can't
see. And you just keep on being faithful.”

Since Ralph had semi-laryngitis this morning, his sermon wasn't as long as usual. Even though it was short, it was compact. Like a Falabella miniature horse—all there in a smaller size.

Ralph's last phrase bounced around my brain as we sang another hymn and shook each other's hands and walked outside.
“The Friend you can't see.”
It was weird how Lizzy had said something to God almost like that, that God was her best friend.

As I climbed into the cattle truck, my mind was halfway into another on-the-spot prayer:
God, I know you're trying to tell me things or you wouldn't bother to have both Lizzy and Ralph talk about how you're their best friend. So, thanks. And help me get there too.

On Sundays, when we ride home with the Barkers, everybody talks at once about the sermon. But in the cattle truck, none of us said a word until we were almost home.

I was thinking about what Ralph had said about not giving up on people. It sounded kind of like imprinting—not pulling away, even when the horse is trying to. I'd never had much luck with human friends. Maybe God was trying to tell me something about human friends too—about not giving up on
them
. But horses are so much easier to not give up on than humans.

Lizzy broke our silence. “I'm calling Geri as soon as we get home.”

I started to warn her that she was asking to get her feelings hurt. But I stopped. I had a feeling Lizzy already knew that.

Lizzy was on the phone before she changed out of her church clothes.

I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. And when I walked back into the kitchen, Lizzy was pulling out the flour and sugar from the cupboard.

“Well?” I asked. “What did Geri say?”

“She said she'd be over as soon as she finished lunch,” Lizzy answered.

“Well, don't get your hopes up,” I warned. “Sal said
she
was coming over after church too. But I'm not holding my breath.”

It was a good thing I didn't hold my breath for Sal. By midafternoon, she still hadn't come.

Geri showed up, though. I watched from the barn as her mom dropped her off and waited until Geri reached the porch and the door opened.

I was glad for Lizzy. I just wished Sal had come too.

I hung out with the horses most of the afternoon. Friendly let me stroke her all over while she nursed from Annie. I took Nickers and Friendly into the paddock for some fresh air. Amigo was already coming around. He followed when I led him, and he didn't try to bite me anymore. I had to get Sal to spend time with him and see what a great friend Amigo could be for her.

Around four o'clock, I went in for something to eat and was hit with the smell of ginger cookies. I'd been all set to be mad at Geri. But when I saw her with Lizzy, giggling over gingerbread geckos, my anger fizzled.

“Hey, Lizzy. Geri,” I called, shrugging out of my coat. “Smells great in here.”

Lizzy smiled at me, then put her finger over her lips and pointed to Dad. He was punching in numbers on the kitchen phone.

I joined Lizzy and Geri and eavesdropped.

“Hello, Madeline?” he said, his voice cracking.

We three girls leaned forward, as if that could help us hear what Madeline was saying. She must have said a lot because Dad didn't say anything for a full minute.

When Dad did speak again, he had his regular voice back. “I know. Me too. So, do you want to come over?”

Again we leaned closer, nobody breathing.

“That would be great!” Dad said. He hung up, grinning.

In spite of myself I was grinning too.

Dad was whistling as he headed for his workshop. Lizzy and Geri were giggling over the geckos.

I walked over to the phone and stared at it. Maybe I should call Sal. It had worked for Lizzy and Dad. I'd try to be nice, just like they were. Patient. Peaceful. I dialed the number.

“Hello, Mrs. Cracker?” I turned my head away from the receiver and cleared my throat. “This is Winnie Willis. Is Sal there?”

“Salena?” she asked. She shouted away from the phone, “Nathan! Where is your sister?”

I could hear Nathan in the background, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

Gram Cracker came back on the line. “She's tanning at Tanfastic with that Spidell girl.”

“With Summer?” All my patience and peace evaporated. “Sal's with Summer?”

“They're probably talking about that girl's—Summer's—big New Year's Eve party. All night they tied up the phone talking about it.”

So Summer was taking over and having the party Hawk was supposed to have. And that meant Winnie Willis was back where she belonged . . . on the outside looking in.

I gripped the phone, imagining Summer and Sal laughing and making plans, inviting everybody in our class except me. Until that minute I don't think I'd realized how much I'd wanted to be included, to have a real New Year's Eve party to go to.

“Why are you calling?” Gram Cracker demanded. “Is something wrong with that little creature?”

It took me a second to realize she was talking about Amigo. “Amigo? No! He's doing great. Really he is. That's why I was calling. Sal was supposed to come over and help. Amigo and Sal could be friends if she'd give him a chance.”

“Salena was supposed to go over there?” Mrs. Cracker's voice got an edge to it. “Nathan talked both of us into leaving the horse with you for a while. Does his sister think I am made of money? That I can just pay that pony's upkeep until she gets around to doing whatever she should be doing with it? I'll send her to you the moment she returns.”

When I hung up, I wasn't grinning like Dad and Lizzy had. I didn't think Sal was going to appreciate me getting her in trouble with her grandmother.

It was almost suppertime when Gram Cracker dropped Sal off at my barn. Except for her earmuffs and a feathery jacket that looked like 100 birds had died to make it, Sal looked like she was just in from Daytona Beach. Her face was reddish brown, almost as bright as her hair.

“Sorry I'm late, Winnie.” At least she didn't sound mad.

“That's okay. We don't have much daylight left, but the barn lights should work.”

I led Sal toward Amigo's end stall, but she stopped to look at Nickers, the foal, and Annie.

“I can't believe you got it to nurse from that goat!” she exclaimed. “That is so tight!”