When Happily Ever After Ends (9 page)

As she tasted the wind, felt the jarring ground, and smelled the scent of Black’s sweating coat, Shannon
turned off her thoughts and became one with the galloping horse. Sometime later, she felt the horse’s gait slackening as he slowed to a canter, then to a trot, then to a walk. She heard him breathing hard, saw flecks of white foam on his neck, and felt his sides heaving beneath her legs.

“Whoa.” She reined him to a halt and slid off his back. Her legs trembled and her body felt limp, but the ride had helped purge her of her seething anger. In its place was numbness and exhaustion. Shannon dropped the reins and let Black nibble on the grass. Wearily, she sat on the hard earth, facing westward, and stayed there until the sun went down.

As darkness fell, she thought of her mother. She hurt too. Over the past several days they’d eaten and slept and walked around the house together in a numb daze. If only they could talk, really talk, about what had happened. But Shannon wasn’t sure where to begin. Her father was dead, and without him, their family seemed to lack cohesion.

Shannon had seen him put in the ground, with only a bronze plaque, wreaths of flowers, and a mention in the newspaper to mark his existence. How could she go on without him? How could her family ever be a
family
without him? Shannon buried her face in her hands and allowed two days of pent-up tears to flow. Afterwards she felt better.

She didn’t return until it was dark, but as she rode up to the stable, she saw that Zack had left the light on for her. It shone like a steady beacon to light her way home.

“Why didn’t you come to the funeral home?” Shannon asked, coming up behind Heather, who had tethered Fantasia at the barn door for grooming.

Heather jumped and dropped the currycomb. “Don’t sneak up like that. You scared me to death!” Heather complained, stooping to retrieve the brush.

All day long, the other girls had been coming out to ride and care for their horses, and all day long Shannon had waited for Heather to arrive. She had decided to confront her. The afternoon air was hot and sticky, making Shannon feel even more irritable. “Everybody was there but you,” Shannon said, crossing her arms defiantly. “How come?”

“Didn’t my mother tell you?”

“All your mother said was that she thought it was better if you didn’t come. You’re my best friend. Why didn’t you tell your mother you wanted to be with me?”

Heather did not meet Shannon’s eyes, but stepped to the far side of Fantasia and swept the brush along the animal’s flank. “She decided I was too young to go to a funeral.”

“You’re fifteen, Heather! Even Melanie was there and she’s only eleven.”

Sunlight bounced off Heather’s unruly red hair as her head bobbed over the curve of the horse’s sleek back. “Funerals are depressing, that’s all. She didn’t want me to be depressed.”

Incredulous, Shannon walked around Fantasia and stood face to face with Heather. “Depressed? It was
my
father who died! I’ll tell you what it feels like to be depressed. It’s when you’re going through the worst day of your entire life and your best friend doesn’t even care enough to be with you. You never even called me.”

“I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Everybody else found something to say.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Heather set about untangling Fantasia’s mane by running her fingers through the coarse hair. “I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry your father died.”

“Funerals are supposed to make saying good-bye easier, but it wasn’t that way for me.” Shannon shook her head sadly.

“The whole thing gives me the creeps.”

“Thanks a lot.” Shannon let her frustration come through in sarcasm. “I’m
real
sorry that my life made you feel creepy.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Heather chewed on her bottom lip. “I just don’t know what to
say
to you,” she wailed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing, Heather. The time for saying things has passed. Just forget the whole thing. In fact, just forget everything. I hope I never make you feel ‘uncomfortable’
again.” Shannon turned and stalked toward her house.

   Shannon rattled around the kitchen. She wanted to find a clean cereal bowl, but dirty dishes were heaped in the sink. She opened the dishwasher only to find it stuffed with more dirty dishes. She’d forgotten to turn it on the night before. “Cancel the Frosted Flakes,” she muttered in the empty room.

The kitchen clock pointed to almost noon and her mother still wasn’t up. Her mom had been sleeping a lot during the week since the funeral. Shannon couldn’t blame her. She understood her mother’s need to escape completely. In the past week Shannon had watched more TV game shows than ever before in her life. Even her grandmother had stayed home and not come to visit, though she called daily, almost as if to be sure that Shannon and her mom were still there, still alive.

Shannon longed to talk with her mother about what had happened. She had unresolved questions about the past, questions about the future, so many jumbled emotions. Suddenly she had an idea. She scurried around the kitchen fixing a tray of hot tea and toast. When it was ready, she climbed the stairs and knocked on her mother’s bedroom door.

“Tea time,” she announced, trying to sound cheerful. She entered the room and came alongside the bed. “Mom?”

Her mother opened her eyes groggily. “Hi. What time is it?”

“Noon.”

“Are you sure? I feel like I’ve barely slept.”

“Do you mind if I open the window?” Shannon didn’t wait for an answer, but hurried across the room, jerked up the miniblinds and shoved the window upward. Sunlight and fresh summer air gushed into the room. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Her mom shielded her eyes. “If you say so.” She dragged herself upright in the bed. Shannon stared, startled. “You’re wearing Daddy’s pajamas.”

Her mother peered down and smoothed her palm over the fabric. “You must think I’ve flipped out. Last night the bed seemed so big, and I felt so lonely. I put them on. They still smell like him.”

A lump swelled in Shannon’s throat. She could hardly speak. “I thought we could have some tea and toast together. Maybe talk some.”

“Come sit down.” Her mother patted the rumpled bed covers. “I’m sorry I slept so late.”

Shannon poured tea into two cups and handed one to her mother. “It’s the cinnamon flavor you like.”

“Your father’s favorite.” Her voice sounded wistful.

“The kitchen’s sort of a mess, but I’ll clean it up later.”

“I know I haven’t been doing much lately,” her mother confessed. “But I have been
thinking
about getting on with our lives.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“I know. I have to rejoin the world sooner or later. Life goes on. There’s the business to run, bills to pay.”

“Some of the girls have been asking about their riding lessons,” Shannon told her. “Most of the club members still want to go to the Knoxville show next month.”

Her mother sighed. “And there’s the overnight camp-out on July Fourth. Do you remember?”

It seemed like a million years had passed since she’d rummaged in her father’s desk for stamps for the newsletter. “I’m sure the girls will understand if we cancel it.”

“Do you want to cancel it?”

Shannon was ashamed to admit that she didn’t. She wanted to have a normal life again and not have to think about the dark hole of her father’s death. She picked at a loose thread on the bed comforter. “I miss doing the things we used to do.”

“You don’t have to apologize for wanting to get back into the routine.” Her mother set her teacup on the bedside table. “We just have to decide how much we can handle. What about the show? Would you like to jump Black?”

“He’ll never be ready in time.”

“If you work with him every day, he will.”

Shannon swallowed hard and glanced away. What her mother had said was true—daily, disciplined workouts were the only way to prepare a horse for a meet. Still, the task loomed in front of her, and she felt overwhelmed by its size. “There’s not much time. I can’t train him by myself. Can you help?”

“I can help some, but there are too many others to get ready and so much to do.” Her mother’s voice
broke and she covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I can cope with everything.”

Shannon watched her mother’s shoulders shake with silent, contained sobs. “Don’t cry, Mom. I’ll help you. Honest.”

“I miss Paul so much. I’m all mixed up.”

Shannon felt deeply disappointed. She had wanted to discuss her own feelings with her mother, but she could tell that her mom was in no shape to talk now. She’d have to put it off until another day. Until her mother was stronger. “I miss Daddy, too.”

Her mother cried harder and Shannon felt powerless. “It’s okay, Mom. We have each other. Remember, Grandma says we Campbells always stick together.” Shannon tossed back the comforter and slid into bed beside her mother and put her arms around her. Her mom continued to cry, so Shannon began to gently rock her as the scent of her father’s after-shave rose from the pajama fabric and wrapped around them both. “It’s all right, Mom. I’m here. Right here.”

Shannon soothed her as best she could, thinking back to all the times when as a very small girl, her mother had held and rocked her. Shannon now returned the kindness, feeling her role in the family subtly shift for the moment as she became the adult, and her mother, the child. Although she was uncertain how they would manage without her father, she was determined to try. She willed herself the courage and strength to continue life without him, one day at a time.

Shannon dragged the barriers around the training ring, trying to measure with her eye whether or not they were evenly spaced. Black stood tied to the fence railing, his ears pitched forward, watching her movements. She kept wishing the summer sun wasn’t so hot. But there was precious little time before the hunt seat competition in Knoxville, and she had no choice but to work Black daily if he was going to compete. Dust from beneath her boots rose, clogged her throat, and made her cough.

“Would you like some help?” Zack asked, appearing at the side of the ring.

She straightened and tried to smooth the wisps of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “I can do it.”

“I know you can do it, but would you like me to help you do it?” He climbed over the fence and came up to her.

She had avoided him since the day of the funeral. She was unsure of what to say to him and afraid she might break down in front of him. “All right. I’d like your help.”

He grinned. “What can I do?” he asked.

“I need the barriers evenly spaced. Mix in the solid ones with the fences. Then stand over to the side and watch me take the jumps. Let me know what you think of Black’s form.”

“His form?”

Shannon sighed inwardly. This was going to be harder than she’d thought. Zack didn’t know simple terminology. Yet, as they worked over the next hour, Shannon discovered that Zack learned quickly and was a great deal of help to her. By the time the lesson was over, her arms ached from lifting the barriers again and again, and her back and shoulders felt stiff from riding, but overall she was pleased.

In good spirits, Shannon tethered Black to the barn doorway after his workout. “What are you going to do with him now?” Zack asked.

“Give him a bath. He’s awfully dusty.” Zack followed her to the side of the barn where she turned on the hose, dragged it over and squirted her horse. “Get a sponge,” she urged. “You can help.”

He found one and together they set about washing and rubbing the animal’s dark coat. “Lucky horse. It’s so hot, I’m dripping.” Zack said. “Wish I could go for a swim.”

“Do you?” Shannon asked slyly. She held her thumb over the nozzle of the hose and sprayed lightly across the horse’s rounded rump.

“Hey!” Zack shouted, jumping backward.

“You said you were hot.”

His brown eyes narrowed. “I meant swimming in a pool or something.”

“Picky, picky. Of course, if this isn’t good enough, there’s the water trough over there.”