Lucy’s Wish (7 page)

Tom, Janetta, and Abigail looked at one another. Then Abigail's pout turned into a smile. “Oh, let's stop talking about Emma,” Abigail said. “We brought you here to show you our secret treasure hole, Lucy.”

Abigail reached into a hole in the trunk of the tree and pulled out a box. Opening it, she held up a sleek black feather.

“A crow's feather?” Lucy asked.

Janetta shook her head and whispered, “A magic feather.
Bad
magic. All we need is to find the spell.”

“Where's the spell?”

Janetta sighed. “We don't know.”

“We'll know it when we see it,” Tom said.

“But why do you want to do
bad
magic?” Lucy asked.

“Just because,” said Abigail. “Don't ask so many questions.”

“All right,” Lucy said. She was interested in what else lay in the box.

There was a three-inch rattle, taken from a dead rattlesnake; a small gold ring; a dead and dried frog; and five agate marbles—lucky marbles, Tom said.

“Now we've shown you our treasures,” Abigail said. “That means we're friends.”

“Friends? Really?” Lucy asked.

“Wait,” Tom said. “We haven't shown Lucy our secret handshake.”

He held out his right hand, thumb up, and he and Abigail slapped hands and shook. Then they showed Lucy how to do the same.

“That does it,” Tom said. “Now we're friends, and we stick together, no matter what.”

Lucy smiled. She was glad to have friends. And best of all, she got to share their secret.

Emma looked up and babbled something. Lucy tried to catch a word she could understand, but she couldn't.

“Emma, when you grow up, why don't you
join a group of traveling actors?” Tom said. He bowed as if he were on a stage. Then he began to babble, making fun of Emma.

Abigail and Janetta both burst out laughing.

Then Emma joined in, laughing loudly.

Abigail threw a glance at Lucy.

Lucy didn't know what to do. Emma was laughing. And after all, these were her new friends. All the laughing made Lucy want to laugh, too. Before she knew it, she was giggling. Abigail squeezed her hand in delight.

Janetta put an arm around Lucy's shoulder. “Friends,” Janetta whispered in Lucy's ear.

Tom, Janetta, and Abigail were right, Lucy told herself. Emma was laughing. The teasing didn't hurt her.

But late that evening, as the Snapeses rode home, Lucy thought about what she had done. In the back of the wagon, Emma snuggled against Lucy. Lucy thought she heard Emma say, “Love you.”

Lucy hugged Emma. She felt sick as she remembered
laughing at her. Emma had trusted her, and she had betrayed her—all for the sake of having friends.

But Emma didn't know she was being made fun of, so she wasn't hurt
, Lucy told herself.
I didn't really do anything wrong … did I?

T
wo days later Abigail and Janetta arrived with their mother for a visit at the Snapeses' farm. Lucy wasn't happy to see them. No matter what the girls had told her, Lucy knew they weren't her real friends.

Mrs. Porter's arms were filled with printed fabric. She was going to sew kitchen curtains. “You're kind to help me hem these, Mabel,” Mrs. Porter said.

“The girls can help, too,” Mrs. Snapes said. “With five of us at work, we'll be done in no time.”

Mrs. Porter smiled at her daughters. “Let's just you and me hem them, Mabel,” she said. “The girls do so hate to sew. We'll send them all outside to play.”

Mrs. Porter shooed Lucy, Emma, Janetta, and Abigail out the back door. Lucy could tell that Mrs. Snapes didn't like the idea.

Lucy didn't like the idea, either. She was still ashamed of laughing while Tom made fun of Emma. Thankfully, Tom hadn't come, so maybe Abigail and Janetta would leave Emma alone.

They were no sooner away from the house than Abigail began to make fun of Emma. “Big old Emma's still got a dolly.”

She and Janetta laughed, but Emma held up Baby and spoke back to them. Lucy could pick out the words
Baby
and
doll.

“She's telling you that the doll is named Baby,” Lucy said.

Janetta and Abigail exploded in laughter. “Emma can't talk!” Janetta said.

“And don't tell us that you can understand her!” Abigail screeched.

Lucy took a deep breath. “Don't tease her,” she said.

“Why not?” Abigail answered. “Emma doesn't know what we're talking about. It's so funny when she laughs with us.”

“It isn't right,” Lucy insisted.

“There you go being a spoilsport again,” Janetta said. “Come on. Let's play a game.”

She snatched Baby out of Emma's arms and ran toward the bull's pasture. By the time Lucy realized what was happening, Janetta had tossed Baby into the pasture.

“No! No!” Lucy cried. As she watched, horrified, Janetta climbed through the rail fence, dashed to the doll, picked it up, and ran back.

The bull, in the distance, raised his head and snorted.

Both Emma and Lucy reached for the doll, but
Abigail grabbed it. “My turn,” she said. She tossed the doll into the pasture and climbed through the fence to go after it, imitating her sister.

“Come back! Hurry!” Lucy cried as the bull trotted a little closer.

Laughing, Abigail ran to the fence and squeezed through the rails.

With a cry Emma again reached for the doll, but Abigail held it high. “Your turn,” she said to Lucy.

“No,” Lucy said, shuddering. “Don't do that!” She watched the bull. He seemed to stare right at her. “The bull's closer now. I'm not going in there.”

“Yes, you are,” Abigail cried. She threw Baby into the pasture. “I said, it's your turn.”

“And I told you no,” Lucy said. “The bull's too close. Besides, you threw it farther in than you did for yourself.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

Lucy was so angry at Abigail, she forgot about watching Emma. It wasn't until Janetta gasped and pointed that Lucy turned and saw Emma in the pasture, stumbling through the grass toward the doll.

The bull raised his head. He snorted loudly and pawed the ground, kicking up clods of dirt.

Abigail and Janetta ran screaming toward the house. But Lucy knew that help couldn't possibly come in time. She ducked through the fence rails and raced toward Emma. Emma had picked up Baby and was standing quietly, cuddling the doll.

From the corner of her eye Lucy saw the bull come a few steps closer. She grabbed Emma's hand and tugged her toward the fence. Emma stumbled, but Lucy half-pulled, half-carried her, moving as quickly as possible.

Lucy could see Mr. Snapes running toward them. He shouted at the bull, waving his arms. Behind him raced the others, screaming in terror.

The thumping steps of the bull grew louder as he thundered closer.

In a last burst of speed, Lucy reached the fence and pushed Emma through. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the bull was almost on top of her. She threw herself to one side as the bull's horns sideswiped the top rail of the fence. Then she dove through the gap between the two bottom rails. She didn't have time to be careful. She hit her head hard on the upper rail.

“Emma? Is Emma all right?” Lucy tried to ask, but her head hurt too much. She sailed into blackness.

She awoke to feel gentle hands stroking her forehead. She heard a soft voice say, “I love you, Lucy. I love you.”

“Mum?” Lucy asked. “Is it you?” She tried to wake up.

The blackness went away. Lucy opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground outside the pasture, her head in Emma's lap. “Love you,” Emma was saying.

“She's been babbling to you ever since you
fainted,” Mrs. Snapes said to Lucy. “It seems you're all right now.”

“The bull?” Lucy asked.

“The bull didn't touch you. You just bumped your head.”

Lucy sat up carefully. Her head still hurt, but that didn't matter. She knew what Emma had said. Her wish really had come true. She wrapped her arms around Emma and murmured in her ear, “I love you, too.”

Abigail was wiping her tears on her sleeve. “It was all Janetta's fault,” she cried. “She threw the doll into the pasture.”

“Did not!” Janetta screeched. “Abigail did it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“You're all to blame,” said their mother angrily. “Get in the buggy, daughters. We're going home.”

“Please don't tell Father,” Abigail begged.

Mrs. Porter thought a moment, then shrugged.
“Well …,” she said. Her voice trailed off as she walked toward her buggy. “Since no harm's been done …”

Lucy was heartsick. “I'm sorry,” she said to Mr. and Mrs. Snapes. “You told me to keep Emma away from the pasture, and I didn't.” Tears came to her eyes. She added, “If you want to send me back, I … I …”

“Send you back? When I've just got used to you? What nonsense,” Mrs. Snapes said. “Besides, you have a knack with Emma. No one else has ever made her so happy.”

“You were very brave to try to save our Emma,” Mr. Snapes said, putting his hand on Lucy's shoulder. “We're grateful to you.”

Mrs. Snapes's face reddened, and her voice grew husky. “We're … we're glad you're here, Lucy.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said, and she smiled.

Mrs. Snapes hesitated, as if she wanted to reach out and pat Lucy's arm. But instead she straightened up. “Well, there's no point in standing
around out here when there's chores to be done. I must collect the eggs. You ought to lie down before you set the table for supper.”

Lucy gingerly touched the lump on her forehead. It would probably turn red and purple and look a sight, but it didn't hurt as much as it had.

She got up, grabbed Emma's hand, and followed the Snapeses to the house. As she walked, she smiled to herself. She might not have found the family of her dreams. And when school began there would still be unkind remarks from the boys and girls in her class. There would be many times when she'd have to stand up for herself and for Emma. But her wish had come true.

Maybe even Mrs. Snapes would give her more than a thank-you. One day Lucy might get a smile and a hug—just like Emma had already given her.

Lucy grinned with excitement. She had someone to love her—someone whom she'd always love in return. She and Emma would always have each other.

camisole   
kam'-i-sol
   A short, sleeveless garment worn over a girl's or woman's underwear, under her dress or blouse.