No Time for Horses (20 page)

“Are we okay, Cathy?” I gently tugged one of
her pigtails, then took a gold ribbon from my braid and tied it
around her hair. “Love you lots. Don’t ever let anyone tell you
otherwise.”

“Okay.” She beamed at me, all right in her
nine-year-old world. “Will you do the other one too, Vicky?”

“Yes, but you have to give the ribbons back
when we get home. I need them for Saturday’s competition.”

“I wish we could come watch you cheer.”
Linda’s lower lip drooped. “Daddy won’t bring us. He says it’s too
much hassle.”

“I’ll try and work it out before the season
ends.” I dropped to my knees between her and Cathy. I helped myself
to another cracker. Then, I worked more ribbons into the girls’
hair.

When they finished their snacks, Kevin went
for the photocopied pictures and cups of crayons that waited on the
counter. He made a face when he came back. “Only princesses and
unicorns this week.”

“Fun,” I said. “No letting your unicorn lead
an army into war, bro.”

He brightened, mischief filling his face and
blue eyes. “I never thought of unicorns fighting.”

“How do you think they use those horns?” I
asked.

“For stabbing bad guys.” Lance grabbed the
red crayon. “Mine just got back from a fight. It’s why his horn is
all bloody.”

“You’re gross,” Linda told him, but her twin
just grinned.

Kevin and I were fighting over the crayons
when the phone buzzed a few minutes later. The receptionist
interrupted the war between black and purple on his picture.
“Vicky, you need to go back to the conference room. Ingrid wants to
talk to you.”

“Okay, but don’t think this is over,” I told
Kevin. “That unicorn is going to be pink and purple, not evil black
and red.”

“Yeah, right.” He tried to snicker and
sounded more little boy than demonic. “If you’re not here, he’s a
zombie unicorn, and he kicks butt.”

“Not for long,” I said, grabbing my backpack.
“When I get back, he’s picking flowers for the girl unicorns in his
herd.”

“Oooh, gross.” Lance moved over by Kevin.
“Here, I’ll help you. These are tough unicorns, not wussy ones.
Let’s make a couple of camo ones.”

“Thanks,” the receptionist whispered when I
went by her desk. “I didn’t know I was out of truck and motorcycle
pictures.”

“It’s all in the presentation,” I said, just
as softly.

Chapter Twenty

Thursday,
December 5
^th
, 5:00
p.m.

When I walked into the conference room, Mom
was crying. Rick looked disgusted with what he obviously considered
too much emotion. Since he wore khakis and a polo shirt, I knew he
must have been off work today, so what was the big deal about
picking up his kids? I decided he’d just been in jerk mode. Mom
must have come from the casino since she was in her dealer uniform.
She wouldn’t have been happy on the day shift. She always said the
tips were lousy and didn’t make up for the low hourly wage.

I glanced at Ingrid who once again made
notes. “What’s up with them?”

“They’re fine,” Ingrid told me. “We’re still
working out the details of their parenting plan and we’ve come to
you. They haven’t decided what to do with you, but at your age, you
get a say.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m gone in seventeen
months. I’m counting the days.” I pulled out a chair and sat down
at the table. “I talked to Dr. Danvers at school today and she says
that if I don’t get scholarships or grants, I can always enlist in
the military. One of the benefits is they’ll pay for college.”

“You could talk to a recruiter and see what
it takes for you to sign up on your seventeenth birthday,” Ingrid
said, a demonic granny in a teal pantsuit. “You should check into
the bonus programs. If you test highly enough, there would be
sufficient money to pay your tuition for your junior and senior
years at Lincoln High before you go to basic training. It’s a good
idea.”

“It’s a horrible idea,” Mom shrieked, then
struggled to calm down. “Am I such a terrible mother? How can you
leave me like this? This country has been at war for the last
twelve years. I don’t want my daughter in a combat zone.”

“Stop being hysterical, Gretchen. It’s only
teen drama,” Rick said. “I hear it from the boys at the tire store
all the time when they want more hours or certain shifts. Vicky
will never do it. She doesn’t have the guts.”

“Enlisting has nothing to do with you or
Mom,” I said. “It’s about me and my future. Don’t worry about my
guts, Rick. If I didn’t have them, how could I raise your kids for
so long? And from what Dr. Danvers told me about boot camp, it
sounds super easy after living with the pair of you.”

“Wait a moment. How did I get into this?”
Rick demanded. “I got you out of public school and did the
applications for you to be in a private academy. I paid for you to
attend Lincoln High for a year and a half. I helped make campaign
signs when you ran for Sophomore Class President last spring.”

“After you threw a big fit because I had
friends over the last time,” I reminded him. “I can always go to
their houses. They just can’t come to mine.”

“There was too much noise. Lots of yelling
and carrying on. One of them spilled a soda on the kitchen floor,”
Rick said.

“Yeah, and he was cleaning it up,” I
retorted. “Mom had said that we could have a campaign party as long
as I watched your kids at the same time. She brought home sub
sandwiches for all of us, but everyone was long gone by that point
thanks to your tantrum.”

“Six kids are plenty for one house,” Rick
said. “I like peace and quiet when I get home.”

“Well, maybe you should quit making babies
then,” I snapped back. “It isn’t reasonable to expect everyone to
sit on a shelf like toys when you come in the door.”

“Is that what this is about?” Mom wiped her
eyes then blew her nose. “Rick is out of our house for good, so it
doesn’t matter what he thinks about the rules there. Kids should
have friends. It’s normal. Do you want your friends to sleep over
on a Friday or Saturday, Vicky? They can. I don’t have a problem
with it.”

“Hello, Mother dearest. Will you wake up and
smell the coffee? Their parents won’t let them because we’d be
alone in the house. We’re teenagers.”

“Well, I trust you to be responsible, Vicky.
You make good choices.”

I rolled my eyes and glanced at Ingrid. “She
totally doesn’t get it, does she? I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to
learn from my mistakes. I don’t get to make many of those.”

“Name one you made,” Ingrid said. “That could
help.”

“Last Saturday when I came off Aladdin.”

That got Mom and Rick’s attention. He gave me
a strange look. “What mistake did you make?”

“I should have known that if you were in a
five mile radius, you’d sabotage my job. I’ve seen you do it often
enough to Mom for the last ten years. I really liked it when she
worked at the sub shop. She went in at ten to prep and was home by
seven at night. She always had weekends off. If I just wanted to
chat, I could pop in and visit on my way home from school, and I
only had to pick up the kids at school once or twice a week.”

“How did I sabotage that?”

“You threw fits at her in front of customers
until the manager banned you from the place. After that, you sent
the kids in to get her during her shift. The upshot was when you
left Chrissy behind in one of the booths.”

“I thought that was an accident,” Mom said.
“He told me he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“He lied,” I said. “You cut him too much
slack. He did it because he knew you’d put her first. You’re her
mom, and when you have little kids, you’re great. He wanted you out
of the sub shop because they were talking about making you the
manager of the new one by the high school. You’d be making more
money than he does at the tire store.”

“You know a lot about your mom’s business,”
Ingrid said. “More than most teens would, Vicky.”

“I told you that I hung out at the restaurant
with a bunch of my friends. I heard how much everyone liked her.” I
shrugged. “Last Saturday, I should have looked around and made sure
that Rick wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity before I rode Aladdin. I
could have broken my neck when I fell.”

“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t want you hurt,”
Ingrid assured me.

“Thank you,” Rick said, sarcastically. “I’m
glad someone sees I’m not the bad guy.”

“You tend to think of yourself first, Rick.”
Ingrid rolled a pen in her fingers. “If Vicky was seriously
injured, who would take care of the kids?”

I almost cracked up at the looks on his and
Mom’s faces. It was obviously the last thing they’d expected to
hear from their counselor. I leaned back in my chair. “So, what’s
up, Ingrid? Why did you want me in here? You know what I want. A
life.”

“You’re right. It’s time to talk about the
next proverbial elephant in the living room. Let’s discuss your
emancipation.”

“Her what?” Mom squawked, staring at me.

“Emancipation,” Ingrid repeated. “You don’t
have a parenting plan for her. Neither of you intends to pay for
her education. I received a grant application today from her
advisor. He wants it signed so that he can take it to the school
board and arrange for her to stay in classes. He’s the first person
who has expressed an interest in her scholastic achievements in
seven months.”

“You’re overreacting,” Rick said. “Vicky’s
not old enough to leave home, so how could she support
herself?”

“I have a job,” I said. “It’s the first thing
Ingrid told me that I had to do when I brought this up. And that
job includes a place to live when I want it.”

“Actually, I have a letter here from Maura
and John Gibson offering to provide you with a room in their house
as well as what we used to call ‘board.’ That’s your meals,
electricity, and utilities.” Ingrid frowned at Mom, then at Rick.
“When Vicky was hurt last weekend, they found your parenting skills
less than ideal.”

“I don’t think allowing their son’s
girlfriend to move in is a particularly sound solution,” Rick said.
“They wouldn’t even let me talk to Vicky when I called to check on
her.”

“You weren’t checking on me, Rick. You wanted
to bring the kids over for me to babysit after you caused an
accident. I had a concussion and neither of you even considered
staying with me.”

“You’re sixteen. And if you’re emancipated,
who would take care of you?” Rick shot another disgusted look at
Mom when more tears streamed down her face. “Oh, that’s a big help.
Focus, Gretchen. If Vicky moves out, who will take care of the
kids? You’re never home.”

“Because she works all the time,” I shot
back. “She’s always held at
least
one full-time job, even
when she was pregnant. He’s right, Ingrid. If I move out, who will
take care of the kids? We’re not talking ‘Father of the Year.’ Like
John Gibson says, Rick isn’t much more than a sperm donor.”

“That isn’t your worry, Vicky.” Ingrid tapped
her pen on the table. “Rick would have to pay more child support.
Your mom can’t work full-time and look after five kids. It’s not
reasonable.”

“Stay home?” Mom gaped at Ingrid, then me.
“Could I? Would the court accept that as my parenting plan? If I
was home, then Vicky wouldn’t have to leave, would she? I know
she’s old for her age, Ingrid, but she’s really not ready.”

“Hey, I have a job and a place to live. Two
places. What do you mean I’m not ready?”

“You have gaps in your knowledge,” Mom said.
“You can run a household and take care of children, but you don’t
know how to budget or manage money. You can’t drive. You’re not
ready to sign contracts or rent an apartment. Yes, you can work at
the stable. What about other jobs? What would you do if you needed
more money? Do you have a resume? Can you find another position?
Have you practiced your interviewing skills?”

I figured she was grasping at straws. I mean,
I couldn’t do those things, but how hard would they be? I was
smart. I could learn to handle my finances. I could even sign up
for a money management class next spring semester as one of my
electives. I flicked a quick glance at Rick and saw the horror on
his face. He saw his money going down the drain with Ingrid pushing
Mom to take on a full-time role in the house.

“I hadn’t thought of those skills,” I said.
“Did you, Ingrid?”

“You can learn them at the Gibsons’,” the
counselor said. “John is an accountant. He can teach you to balance
a checkbook. Maura is a stay-at-home mom with her own business. She
can teach you about contracts.”

“Yes, but Mom could too,” I said. “I like
this idea. She needs to be with the kids so they know how much she
loves them.”

“And how much she loves you,” Ingrid said.
“Your parents may not be in touch with their feelings, but they
both love you, Vicky.”

“You really don’t want to go there,” I said.
“They don’t. I’m just the unpaid au-pair, but as long as someone
steps up for the kids, I’m good with it.”

“What?” Rick glared at me. “How can you say
such a thing? I’ve been a dad to you for ten years.”

“You suck at it,”
I told him. “Last year when I had the flu, Mom told you I needed to
sleep when she went to work. You headed off to play golf with your
friends and left me with the kids. John Gibson spent more time with
me this past weekend than you have in the past ten years. He’s come
to more football and basketball games when I’m cheering than you or
Mom ever have.”

“His son’s on those teams,” Rick said, “and
we have to work.”

“If I didn’t have to work anymore, I could
come,” Mom said. “I’d like to see you cheer. I could buy my own
presents and then I’d know you had some from me, not just gift
cards. It would make Christmas much nicer for all of us.” She
paused. “Rick doesn’t live there anymore. We can do whatever I want
this year, and I won’t have to try to placate him every moment of
every day.”