When Happily Ever After Ends (10 page)

Zack carefully laid his sponge on the ground. “You don’t say? Well, maybe you’d like to go for a little dip.”

Shannon’s eyes grew wide as he crouched and inched forward. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wanna bet?” He grabbed for her then and she let out a squeal, dropped the hose, and started running. She was halfway through the barn when he caught her around the waist.

Laughing and kicking, Shannon struggled to free herself. “Let me go!”

“Not till you say you’re sorry.”

“Never.”

“Then I’ll ‘let you go’ right over the water trough.”

She broke loose, but he tackled her and they went tumbling and scrambling into an empty stall. He began stuffing handfuls of straw down her back and she shrieked and tried to do the same to him. In minutes, she was weak from struggling and laughing at the same time. She gestured like a football referee and cried, “Time out! Time out!”

“Do I win?” he asked.

“You win.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she gasped between fits of laughter.

He pulled her to her feet. She jerked her shirt out of her jeans and danced about, shaking straw out of her clothes. “This stuff is so scratchy. I itch all over!”

She heard him taking deep breaths, and when she looked at him, hair tousled and eyes staring straight at her, her own breath caught and she felt her pulse quicken. The warm, dry scent of hay soaked into her skin, and in the pale yellow sunlight streaming through the window, dust danced, giving the area a hazy appearance.

Gently Zack reached down and plucked straw from her hair. “You look like a scarecrow that’s losing its stuffings.”

Her mouth was so dry that she could barely speak and her heart was pounding hard against her ribs. “Who’s fault is that?”

“Guilty,” he said, smoothing her hair and dusting clumps of straw off her shoulders. “But I’m not sorry.” His hand touched her and made her tingle. “Not one bit sorry.” He lifted her chin and looked deep into her eyes. Her legs felt weak and rubbery. “Your horse is calling for you,” Zack told her after a few heart-thudding moments.

She heard Black whinnying from the doorway. She’d forgotten about him and the bath and the workout. For one brief, wonderful moment, she’d forgotten about everything except the sweet, aching longing that had filled her. “I’d better go finish up with him,” she said, conscious that her voice was quivery.

“Same time tomorrow?” Zack called as she darted from the stall.

“Yes,” she answered without looking back. “Same time tomorrow.”

On Saturday, Shannon met her grandmother for lunch. They went to the Lookout Mountain Country Club, the one place she had wanted to avoid because it brought back so many childhood memories. Her mother used to dress her up in fancy dresses and tie back her hair with satin ribbons. Her father always kissed her good-bye and called her “my princess.” Then her grandmother whisked her off to the elegant country club, where Shannon got to order anything she wanted from the gold-embossed menu.

Now, sitting in the plush room, at a table draped with pink linen and set with heavy ornate silver and fine crystal, surrounded by fashionable ladies with summer hats and subdued voices, Shannon felt out of place and ill at ease.

“How have you been, dear?” Grandmother asked after the waiter had taken their orders.

“I’m doing okay, I guess. Zack and I have been working with Black, trying to get him ready for the Knoxville show.”

“Yes, you should keep busy. Is it going well?”

“Slow,” Shannon confessed. Even though she and Zack worked hard, she still felt overwhelmed by the task. Without her father to coach, she was experiencing bouts of uncertainty about her ability to challenge Black without taxing him. Why had her father abandoned her when she needed him most?

“I think your keeping busy and going on with the summer activities is a good idea,” her grandmother said, taking a sip of water from a crystal goblet.

“You really do?”

“I do. I told your mother the same thing. It’s good to keep involved with other things. I guess that’s why I’m still working on the charity ball. It’s good therapy.” As if to belie her words, tears filled her grandmother’s eyes. She struggled for control. “When your grandfather died years ago, I thought I’d learned all there was about ‘carrying on’ with life. It was difficult to lose him, but he’d lived a good and prosperous life. I missed him terribly, but I still had you, your mother, Paul—” Grandmother dabbed the corners of her eyes. “This time, it’s different.” She twisted a hanky around her fingers. “Maybe a woman can expect to lose her mate, but her child? She never expects to bury her child.”

The realization hit Shannon hard. Grandma had lost her only child when Shannon’s father died. Shannon struggled with a desire to cry. There were so many feelings she wanted to share, but the restaurant wasn’t the place. She wasn’t sure her grandmother was up to hearing her feelings either.

Her grandmother stared sadly out the window and continued. “I remember when the sons of some of my friends died in Vietnam. I got down on my knees every night and thanked God that Paul wasn’t one of them. Perhaps I was too thankful, too pleased that he came home to us.”

Shannon wondered if maybe they were all being punished now because life had been so perfect for her up until then. Maybe life wasn’t ever meant to be perfect for anybody.

Grandmother drew in a deep breath. She reached across the table and took Shannon’s hand. “I want you and your mother to come to the ball. Please come. For me.”

Shannon had forgotten all about the gala charity event. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to let her grandmother down either. “I’ll ask Mom. It’s not easy to think about going to a party. Maybe we will.”

“Perhaps there’s someone special you’d like to invite?”

Shannon thought of Zack, but quickly ruled him out. She knew that the money he earned went to help out at home, so he could never afford such an extravagance. And if she couldn’t be with Zack—well, there was no one else. “If I come, I’ll come with Mom.”

Grandmother reached over and squeezed Shannon’s hand. “You’re very precious to me. You’re all that’s left of my son. If only—”

“If only what?”
Tell me
, Shannon pleaded silently. Couldn’t her grandmother see how much she wanted to talk about her father and what had happened?

Her grandmother stared at Shannon as if she was full of secrets and couldn’t get them out. Finally she said, “We can’t go back and undo the past.”

The waiter brought their food and her grandmother started talking about other things. Shannon picked at her meal and speculated over what her grandmother had meant.
What
was it about the past that needed undoing?

The horses, in a long line, picked their way down the winding mountain trail. Shannon swayed with the gentle motion of Black’s plodding gait, silent amid the flow of chatter from the girls in the Pony Club who rode around her. At the front of the line, her mother led a packhorse burdened with the tents and equipment for the overnight campout. To the rear, Mrs. Banks rode, and Shannon knew Heather rode somewhere in between.

Shannon had pointedly ignored Heather all day. Now that the sun was hovering at the rim of the mountains, she knew they’d be pitching camp soon. That meant they’d all have to work together to set up, fix dinner, and build a campfire for the night. “You can do it,” she told herself silently. “You can be polite to Heather and pretend that nothing’s wrong.”

Shannon heard the running water of a stream that cut down through the rocks. They’d followed the sound for the past hour because a good campsite meant having water available. At the bottom of the trail, the terrain flattened out. The trees thinned,
and a grassy field emerged. Shannon’s mother halted the line of horses and riders. “This looks pretty good. Tammy, please ride around to the other side and see how far we are from the creek.”

Tammy urged her horse forward, trotted across the clearing, and disappeared into the woods. Shannon hoped the site would be suitable. She was tired. Her muscles were sore from sitting in the saddle too long, and Black kept trying to graze, which meant that he was ready to settle down for the night, too. Tammy reemerged and gave a thumbs-up signal. The group cheered and dismounted.

They set to work at once. Soon, three tents had been pitched—two for the ten girls to share and a smaller one for the mothers. Some of the girls cleared a small area of grass and leaves, while others gathered wood. As the sun set, they built a fire and started a large pot of stew. It bubbled, sending its rich aroma through the camp.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!” Cathie wailed.

One of the horses, tethered in a circle just outside the camp, whinnied and everybody laughed. “I think they heard you,” Tammy joked.

Shannon tried to be a part of the fun, but couldn’t get into the adventure. Heather kept sidestepping her, sometimes casting her cautious looks. Shannon wasn’t sure how to respond so she kept ignoring her.

After dinner they drew numbers for KP duty and Shannon ended up on dishwashing detail with Melanie
and Heather. She saw no way out of being alone with her onetime best friend. The two of them worked in silence over buckets of water that Melanie carried from the creek. When Shannon’s hand accidentally touched Heather’s, both girls drew back, as if they’d touched fire. Finally Heather sagged backward and blurted out, “Are you
ever
going to forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what?”

“You know! Oh, Shannon, I just can’t stand us not being friends.”

Shannon wiped her hands on a towel and stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What am I supposed to forgive?” She walked toward the edge of the campsite, out to where the horses were grazing.

Heather dogged her steps. “I’m sorry, Shannon. Please don’t make me hurt any more than I already do.” Heather wrung her hands. “I should have come to the funeral. I should have been there for you.”

Shannon whirled. “Yes, you should have. I’ll never understand why you—of
all
people—chickened out on me. I needed a friend!”

“But I am your friend.”

“Then why weren’t you there for me?”

“I was scared. More scared than I’ve ever been in my whole life.” Heather’s voice sounded whispery, and night shadows made her seem farther away than the few feet that separated her from Shannon.

“Scared of what?” Shannon hadn’t expected such a peculiar answer.

“Of dying. I’ve seen people die in lots of movies.” Heather shook her head. “It looks so real, but deep down you know it’s all fake. With your dad—it
was
for real. It was someone I knew and I cared about who died. Until this summer, I’ve never known anybody who died.”

Shannon felt again the horror of seeing her father lying in a pool of blood. Heather hadn’t seen that part. Heather didn’t know how truly terrifying and violent death looked. Shannon shivered, realizing that her father must have seen such sights in Vietnam. She wondered how he had reacted when he’d seen people die. “Being scared of death is not a good enough excuse,” Shannon told Heather defiantly. “Not between friends.”

Heather patted the flank of one of the grazing horses absently. “It was more than that. I’m not sure I can explain.”

“Please try,” Shannon insisted. She wasn’t going to let Heather off the hook too easily.

“You and your dad always had such a special thing between you. Your whole family was special. Not like mine. We fight all the time. Everybody’s always dumping on me. I used to come to your house just to be around a family who was nice to each other.”

Heather’s head bobbed up, and Shannon felt her friend’s gaze through the darkness. Her voice dropped lower, and Shannon had to lean forward to catch her words. “I don’t want to die, Shannon. I don’t want anybody in my family to die. I’m afraid.
Every time I look at my dad, I think, ‘What if he dies suddenly? What if I have to go to his funeral like Shannon did?’ I get so scared sometimes, I get sick to my stomach. If it can happen to your family, one I thought was picture perfect, then why can’t it happen to mine? We’re not even close to perfect.”

Heather stopped talking, and Shannon felt tears welling in her eyes as she saw things from Heather’s viewpoint. She said, “I never dreamed you were feeling those things.”

“As long as I’m being honest,” Heather continued, “I may as well tell you everything.”

“There’s more?”

“I tried not to care when you got Blackwatch for your birthday. He was such a fantastic horse—much better than poor old Fantasia. And I pretended it didn’t matter when Zack started paying attention to you. But it did matter. It all mattered.”

“You were jealous?”

“It’s rotten, but true. You already had everything with your family and all. Then you got even more with Blackwatch and Zack.” Heather looked up quickly and light from the distant campfire reflected off her hair. “It’s not easy to tell you this stuff. I’m not proud of myself. But I have to tell you because these past few weeks of not having you for my friend have been the worst time of my life.”

Shannon shifted in the silence that fell between her and Heather. She heard the sound of tree frogs from the surrounding woods mix with the teary
sound of Heather’s breathing. “It’s not been easy on me either,” Shannon confessed. “I’ve missed you.”