The Christmas Pony (9 page)

“But surely she thinks you're beautiful too,” Veronica said. “All little girls think their mothers are beautiful.”

Mama laughed, but it didn't sound like a real laugh.

“Of course Lucy thinks Miriam is beautiful,” George said. “Anyone can see that just to look at her.”

“To look at whom?” Veronica asked.

“Miriam, of course.” George chuckled. “Wouldn't you agree that she's a beautiful woman?”

“Oh, I wouldn't—”

“I was talking to Veronica.” George cut Mama off. “You consider yourself an expert on beauty, Veronica. Look at Miriam's fine skin, those topaz blue eyes, her straight nose and—”

“That's enough,” Mama said in a voice that Lucy didn't recognize. Was she mad, or embarrassed, or something else? “If you will excuse me, I would like to—”

“I'm sorry, Miriam,” George said gently. “I didn't mean to offend you. But you were so complimentary to Veronica, it seemed only right that—”

“No apology needed,” Mama said crisply. “Now if you will excuse me, I need to tend to some things in the kitchen for breakfast.”

“Yes, we should all call it a night,” George said. There was the sound of movement, and Lucy scampered like a mouse back to her room, leaping into her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin, worried that Mama might check on her. But after a bit, once her breathing evened out, Lucy heard talking again. This time it came from the kitchen and was only the sound of George and Mama's voices. Once again, Lucy tiptoed out to listen.

“I really am sorry,” George was saying. “I know I made you uncomfortable, and that wasn't my goal at all.”

“Never mind,” Mama told him.

“I only wanted to put Veronica in her place,” he said. “She sets such high stock on appearances, and she spends so much time worrying about her own. Yet you go about your business, you take care of everyone and everything, and in my opinion you are much more beautiful than Veronica. Not in a painted flashy way, of course, but in a lovely womanly way. I just hope you don't mind me saying so.”

“Thank you, George.” Mama's voice sounded stiff as the stove door clanked closed.

“I can tell I've offended you now.”

“No . . . I'm not offended. Just uncomfortable.”

“I suppose I've stuck my foot in my mouth again. Sometimes that got me into trouble at law school. On the other
hand, I think a good lawyer knows how to speak his mind, even if no one else wants to hear the truth.”

“I suppose the truth . . . like beauty . . . can be in the eye of the beholder.”

He chuckled.

“Now, really, George, if you will excuse me, it's getting late.”

“I will excuse you only if you promise that you'll forgive me for offending you.”

“You did not offend me.”

The kitchen was quiet for what felt like several minutes.

“Good night, George.” Mama's voice sounded just a tiny bit more gentle, and now her footsteps were coming Lucy's way.

“Good night, Miriam,” George called. Lucy was already making a beeline for her bed again. This time she stayed put. But what she heard in the kitchen did get her mind to wondering. Now that she knew she wasn't getting a pony for Christmas, maybe she should consider praying for something else—like a daddy!

A
fter lunch on Friday, George invited Lucy to take a ride in his car, but once she was inside, he told her his real purpose. “Your house needs a Christmas tree,” he said as the car took off over the snowy road. “You and I are going to find the perfect one.”

As they drove, they talked. Mostly it seemed that George wanted to know more about Mama, and since Lucy thought she knew why he wanted to know more, she was happy to oblige him. Unfortunately, his questions only revealed that she did not know as much about her mother as she thought she did. Oh, she knew that Mama liked birds and growing flowers in the springtime. She knew that Mama was a good cook but that it made Grandma feel important to handle the cooking, so she stayed out of the kitchen most of the time. She knew that Mama took care of the laundry and sewing and some of the housekeeping and most of the outdoor chores and that Mama was kind and good and sometimes stern. Finally she thought of something she hadn't told him.

“Mama used to have the prettiest smile,” she said as he parked the car near a grove of ponderosa pine trees. “But after Daddy died, it just seemed to go away.”

“That's understandable.”

“I prayed that God would give Mama her smile back,” Lucy confessed as they got out of the car. “For Christmas.”

George had a real thoughtful look as he reached for his pipe. “Maybe God's going to answer that prayer for you.”

“You know what?” She felt a rush of excitement.

“What?”

“I'd rather have Mama's smile back than a pony.”

George looked shocked. “No kidding?”

“It's true.” She nodded eagerly.

That night the Christmas tree, which reached clear to the ceiling, was in place. “I've never seen a Christmas tree quite like this one.” George touched a long-needled bough. “But I think it might be the most beautiful tree ever.”

“It's certainly the biggest tree this house has ever seen,” Mama told him.

“It didn't look that tall in the woods.”

She shook her head. “I know I won't have enough ornaments to fill it.”

“We can make some more,” Lucy suggested.

“We can string popcorn,” Grandma told her.

“Yes!” Lucy exclaimed. “Let's do that now.”

“Not tonight, we won't,” Mama said. “It's already past Lucy's bedtime.”

Lucy groaned.

“We'll do it tomorrow night,” Mama said gently.

“That reminds me,” Veronica said suddenly. “Tomorrow night is the Christmas dance. Remember, George? You promised to take me.”

“What?” George frowned. “I don't recall making—”

“Remember, we saw the poster in town,” she reminded him.

“George didn't promise,” Lucy pointed out. “He only said he'd think about it.”

“Oh, please, George,” Veronica pleaded. “Take me to the Christmas dance, I'm begging you.
Please.
”

“That must be the grange dance,” Grandma said. “They have it every year.”

“I remember hearing about a Christmas dance up north somewhere, in a barn as I recall,” Mrs. Dorchester said. “Horrible tale about how the whole place caught on fire and everyone was trapped inside. Nearly half the town was burned to death, and just before Christmas.”

“Oh, dear!” Mama's brows lifted.

“Good heavens!” Grandma let out a loud sigh that sounded like
fussbudget
to Lucy's ears.

“Well, that's silly,” Veronica told her. “People don't die at dances.”

“Just the same, you won't catch us going to any Christmas dance at a grange.” Mrs. Dorchester grimly shook her head. “No, sirree. Now, come on, Fred, it's time you and I turned in for the night. My back is starting to ache something fierce.”

“Time for me to call it a day too,” Grandma said. “I'll say my good-nights now.”

“And so will Lucy.” Mama put a hand on Lucy's shoulder, guiding her out.

“Good night, everyone, sleep tight,” Lucy called out, refraining from adding “don't let the bedbugs bite” like she sometimes did, since she knew Mama wouldn't approve. Not with paying guests in the house.

It wasn't until Lucy had finished quickly saying her prayers and was tucked snugly in bed that she knew she had to say something before it was too late. “You can't let Veronica talk George into taking her to that dance,” she proclaimed just as Mama pulled the string on the overhead light.

“What?” Mama stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed in light.

“Veronica will just keep pestering George,” Lucy explained. “And he's so nice, he might give in.”

“Give in to what?”

“You know what, Mama. He'll take her to that dance.”

Now Mama came back in, closing the door behind her and sitting down in the chair again. “What difference would that make, Lucy?” Her voice was soft and quiet in the darkness.

“The difference would be that George is falling in love with you.”

Mama laughed in an odd way. “Oh, Lucy, your imagination is running away—”

“It's not my imagination. It's true.”

“How do you know it's true?” Mama was whispering now, as if worried that someone might be listening.

“Because he kept asking about you when we got the tree.” Lucy thought for a moment, trying to recall if George had asked her not to mention this, but she couldn't remember anything quite like that.

“What was he asking?”

“Just
stuff
, Mama.” Lucy felt anxious. “But you can't waste time. You need to go out there and make sure Veronica doesn't talk him into it. She can be awfully persistent when she wants something.”

“So I've noticed.”

“Please, Mama. You have to trust me on this.”

Mama slowly stood. “I can't make any promises, Lucy.”

“Just try.
Please.
”

“Good night, Lucy.” Mama opened the door again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mama—now hurry!”

Lucy could hear the sound of their voices in the living room, and to her surprise it all sounded quite pleasant again. There was even laughter. Then, just as she was considering sneaking out of bed again, it sounded as if they were all saying good night. This was followed by the sounds of footsteps and doors closing, and Lucy knew that everyone had gone to bed and she'd have to wait until morning to find out how it went. Hopefully Mama had managed to prevent what could be a disaster from happening.

On Saturday morning, Lucy was surprised by two things. First of all, she was surprised that Veronica was up in time to sit with them at breakfast. Dressed in an elegant green blouse and matching trousers, Veronica seemed fully awake and more intent than usual on keeping and maintaining George's attention. The second surprise was discovering that George had pulled a fast one last night.

“George told me that the only way he'll take me to the Christmas dance tonight is if Miriam goes too,” Veronica announced. “I'm not sure if he thinks we need a chaperone or if he just wants to walk in with two women on his arm, but he made it clear that it's the only way he'll go.” She turned to Mama, and Lucy waited hopefully. “You promised to sleep on it, Miriam. Have you made up your mind?”

Mama placed her napkin in her lap. “I'm afraid I have to decline.”

“Oh, Miriam.” Veronica pursed her lips together.

“Why, Mama?” Lucy asked. “You should go to the dance and have fun.”

“I agree,” Grandma said. “You should go to the dance. It's been years since you've been to a dance.” She gave George a sly look. “Miriam used to be one of the best dancers in these parts.”

“Oh, Mother.”

“Is that true, Mama?” Lucy asked eagerly.

“No, of course not. Your grandmother is exaggerating.”

Grandma shook her finger. “It is so true.” She winked at Lucy. “Your mama and daddy used to go to the grange dances, back before you were born, and the word around town was that those two could really cut the rug.” She laughed.

“Then you really should go to the dance,” George urged her.

“Yes,” Lucy chimed in. “Say you'll go.”

“But I . . . I don't know.” Mama slowly shook her head.

“Come on, Miriam,” Veronica urged with a bit less enthusiasm. “Just do it for me. I've been so bored, and a dance sounds like such fun.”

“Come on, Mama,” Lucy tried. “Just go with them.”

“You might enjoy the music,” George added.

“And the dancing.” Grandma grinned at her.

“Unless the whole place goes up in flames.” Mrs. Dorchester grimaced as she reached for a second helping of fried potatoes. She must not have noticed the onions Grandma put in them.

Mama looked caught now. “Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go.”

“Of course it wouldn't hurt.” Grandma cut off a piece of butter.

“Unless you all burned up.”

Mama looked directly at Mrs. Dorchester now. “I really don't think that's a possibility. The grange has been having dances since I was a girl, and I've never had any reason to worry.”

“Then come to the dance,” George said happily.

It seemed settled. As odd as it was, Mama and George and Veronica were all going to the dance together. Lucy wondered if he would take turns dancing with them or attempt to dance with two partners at the same time.

After breakfast, alone with Mama and Grandma in the kitchen, Lucy asked Mama what she was going to wear.

“Oh, I don't know.” Mama scrubbed a dish. “My Sunday dress, I suppose.”

“What about that pretty blue shiny dress,” Lucy said. “The one in the back of your closet. You never wear it.”

“The topaz silk,” Grandma said. “You should wear that, Miriam.”

“I doubt it will even fit.” Mama wiped her damp hands on the front of her stained apron and frowned.

“I don't see why it won't fit,” Grandma told her. “And if we need to, we could make some alterations.”

“But why go to such trouble?”

“Lucy?” called Veronica from the dining room. “Are you busy, doll?”

“Why don't you go see what she wants,” Grandma said. “We'll finish up in here.”

Lucy removed her apron and went to see.

“I nearly forgot that I made a promise to you.”

“A promise?” Lucy followed her into the front room.

“I told you we'd go to the movie theater on Saturday. Your mother even agreed to it. Remember how I wanted to go last Sunday, and she said that was unacceptable?” One of Veronica's thin eyebrows arched higher. “So . . . what do you think, doll? Do you want to see a picture with me or not?”

Lucy felt a rush of excitement at this unexpected offer. “You mean it?”

“Of course. In light of your disappointment over that horse yesterday, it seems like a good idea. You need a little pick-me-up.” Veronica ran her hand over Lucy's hair.

“How will we get there?”