Wild Horses (18 page)

“Mam and I both saw them a few weeks ago.”

“Seriously?” Calvin asked, his voice breaking.

Laughter rippled across the room. Men winked, women cast knowing glances as comfortable and good as warm apple pie.

“Sadie, tell them about the … your horse.”

“Go ahead, Dat. You tell them.”

Immediately Dat launched into a colorful account of her ride to work with Jim Sevarr, the snow and cold and the black and white paint. He described how Richard Caldwell kept him at the stable and what an unbelievable horse he would be, if he regained his health.

Calvin sat on the edge of his chair, chewing his lip.

“I bet you anything this horse of Sadie’s is connected.”

“Huh-uh.”

“Aw, no.”

Sadie sat back then, the room whirling as a wave of nausea gripped her. It was time to return to her bedroom, although she didn’t want to. The weakness she felt was a constant bother, and she still faced weeks of recovery.

Rebekah and Leah helped her to her bath and finally to bed as the buggies slowly returned down the drive. Anna and Reuben would be helping their mother clean and wash dishes while Dat went outside to sweep the forebay where the horses had been tied.

Lights blinked through the trees, good-nights echoing across the moonlit landscape accompanied by the dull “think-thunk” of horse’s hooves on snow.

And now Christmas was a week away.

Sadie sat at the breakfast table, her foot and cumbersome cast propped on a folding chair. The bandage was gone from her head, leaving a bald spot showing beneath the kerchief she wore, although, if you looked close enough, new growth of brown hair was already evident. Her eyes were no longer black and blue, but the discoloration remained and cast shadows around them.

It was Saturday, and Rebekah and Leah were both at home, a list spread between them on the table top.

“Where’s Mam?” Sadie asked.

“Still in bed.”

Leah rolled her eyes.

Rebekah sighed.

“Are we just going to go on this way? Just putting up with Mam?” Sadie asked. “I could spank her. She acts like a spoiled child at times.”

“Sadie!”

“Seriously. She‘s been driving me nuts since the accident. She’s not even close to being the mother we remember back in Ohio. She does almost nothing in a day. Just talks to herself. She irritates me. I just want to slap her—wake her up.”

“It’s Dat’s fault.”

“Her own, too.”

“Why won’t they get help? Sadie, it wasn’t even funny the way she caused a scene at the hospital when you got hurt.”

“Someone should have admitted her then.”

“How?”

“I know. The rules are so frustrating. As long as Dat and Mam insist there’s nothing wrong, and she doesn’t hurt anyone or herself, we can’t do anything.”

“In the meantime, we have Christmas coming,” Leah said, helping herself to another slice of buttered toast and spreading it liberally with peanut butter and grape jelly.

“I hate store-bought grape jelly.”

Leah nodded. “Remember the strawberry freezer jam Mam used to make! Mmm.”

“I have a notion to get married and make my own jelly if Mam’s going to be like this,” Rebekah said slowly.

Sadie howled with laughter until tears ran down her cheeks. Her face became discolored and she gasped for breath.

“And, who, may I ask, will you marry?” she asked finally, still giggling.

Leah and Rebekah laughed, knowing the choice was a bit narrow.

It was a Saturday morning made for sisters. Snow swirled outside, Dat and Reuben were gone, Anna was working on her scrapbooks in her room, the kitchen smelled of coffee and bacon and eggs, the cleaning was done, and laundry could wait until Monday.

They were still in their pajamas and robes, their hair in cheerful disarray, all of them feeling well rested after sleeping late. Rebekah was trying to think of things they could buy for Reuben and Anna and the person she got in the name exchange at school.

“Gifts, gifts, gifts. How in the world are we ever going to get ready for Christmas if Mam isn’t in working order?” Rebekah groaned.

“Well, she needs to shape up,” Leah snorted.

“And, then, here I am, leg in cast…,” Sadie began.

“You’re going to get fat.”

“Another slice of toast! Did you guys eat all that bacon?”

“Well, you’re not getting more.”

“I’m not fat!” Sadie finally said, quite forcefully.

“You will be. You don’t do a thing.”

Sadie threw a spoon, Leah ducked, and Rebekah squealed.

“Watch it!”

They were all laughing when Mam emerged from the bedroom down the hallway. Her mouth was twitching as she talked to herself in hurried tones, her voice rising and falling. Her hair was unwashed, greasy even, and she had lost enough weight to make her face appear sallow and a bit sunken. She walked into the kitchen as if in a dream, her eyes glazed and unseeing as she continued the serious conversation.

Sadie felt a stab of impatience, then guilt. Poor Mam. After the initial shock of accepting their Mam as less than perfect—realizing she was unwell, depressed, whatever a doctor would call it—the girls had all decided to do their best, especially if Dat was too stubborn to do anything.

“Mind bother” was not something anyone wanted in their family. It was whispered about, secretly talked of in low tones. It was discussed in close circles, a never-ceasing debate. Was it always chemical? An imbalance? Or had the person done it to herself by refusing to bend her will, living in frustration all her days? Who knew? In any case, it was looked on as a shameful thing. It was a despised subject.

Sadie had spent a few sleepless nights mulling over the subject. She read everything she could get her hands on. She even asked a friend, Marta Clancy, the owner of the small drugstore in town, to print information from her computer at home.

Old myths about “mind bother,” suicide, and other unexplainable troubles were like a wedge in Sadie’s mind. Prescription drugs probably wouldn’t make a difference if it was a spiritual problem, so it had to be a chemical imbalance. So what unbalanced the chemicals? And round and round went Sadie’s troubled thoughts and her frustrations.

She could never fully settle the matter within herself, so she decided it was not something she could figure out on her own. She would have to let all that up to the Almighty God who created human beings and knew everything, right up to each tiny molecule and cell and atom.

But why must we live this way?

Mam could be so normal. When Sadie was hurt and Mam forgot herself, thinking only of Sadie, she almost seemed like the Mam of old. But now that Sadie was recuperating, Mam was worse than ever, and this morning it was annoying.

Sadie ricocheted off walls of impatience, battling to keep her voice low and well-modulated. She felt like shaking some sense into Mam, then quickly realized how hard and uncaring she was being. Mental illness, depression, whatever you called it, was like a leech. It just sucked the vitality out of your life.

It was almost Christmas, and Sadie was determined to make it as normal as possible, especially for Reuben. But always, always, Mam and her condition were in the background.

Ignoring Mam, Sadie turned to Leah.

“Okay, Miss Leah. ‘Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat…’”

Rebekah chimed in, and they sang together.

“‘Please put a penny in the old man’s hat.’”

Sadie glanced at Mam, who was smiling.

“It is Christmas, isn’t it?” she said, her voice like gravel.

“What’s wrong with your voice, Mam? Does your throat hurt?” Sadie asked, concerned about the roughness, the rawness in her mother’s words.

“A bit, yes. I should have dressed warmer last night. I was out walking.” She shook her head from side to side. “I just wish I could get a good night’s sleep. Maybe the voices in my head would stop.”

Rebekah turned, stood by her mother, and said gently, “Mam, won’t you go to a doctor if we take you? Dat doesn’t need to know. The doctor could give you a correct diagnosis, give you the proper medication, and soon you would feel so much better.”

“No! Drugs are bad for us!”

She turned her back, opened the cupboard door, and proceeded to take down the many bottles of vitamins and minerals she so urgently depended on. She insisted they were what sustained her.

A determination, a sort of desperation, expanded in Sadie’s chest.

All right. If this was how it was going to be, then they would rise above it. Like a hot air balloon in a cloudless sky, they would soar. They would have Christmas, and they would have a good Christmas in spite of the many obstacles set in their way. There was the accident, the thousands of dollars in hospital and medical bills that needed to be paid, and Mam’s ever-worsening condition, but no matter, they would figure out a way to have a happy Christmas.

“Rebekah, let’s make a list of gifts we want to buy. Then we can talk to Dat and arrange to go shopping today. We’ll see how much money we can have, then shop accordingly, okay?

“Sure thing,” Rebekah chirped, sliding down the bench toward her.

“First, Reuben and Anna.”

Immediately, they were faced with a huge decision. Reuben was 10 years old. He was too old for most toys and too young for serious guns and hunting things. He had a bike, two BB guns, and a pellet gun, but no hunting knives.

“Not a knife,” Sadie said. “It’s too dangerous.”

Anna was mixing Nesquik into scalding hot milk, adding a teaspoon of sugar and a handful of miniature marshmallows. She stirred, sipped, and lifted her shoulders, a smile of pleasure lighting her young face.

“Taste this, Rebekah!”

“Is it good?”

“It’s so good I’m going to make a cup for each of you after mine is all gone,” she said, grinning cheekily.

“Anna, what can we get Reuben for Christmas?” Sadie asked, toying with the crust of her toast.

“A puppy.”

“We can’t. Mam and Dat will never let us get another dog.”

“He wants a puppy.”

Sadie wrote “puppy” on the list, dutifully.

“What else?”

“A football and a new baseball bat.”

Sadie bent her head and wrote it down.

Leah helped, and with Rebekah’s common sense, they had a list that was actually attainable. After checking the money they could use, which was, in fact, a decent amount, the idea of Christmas settled over them like a warm, fuzzy blanket, comforting and joyous, the way Christmas had always been.

“Hot chocolate’s ready!” Anna called.

“You better let up on the hot chocolate-making, Anna. We’re going shopping at the mall!”

Anna squealed and jumped up and down, rattling the cups on the counter.

“The mall? The real mall?”

“Yes! Let’s all wear the same color… Something Christmasy!”

“We have to push Gramma Sadie on her wheelchair!”

“Let’s rent a wagon—make her sit on the wagon!”

“Let’s do!”

Mam watched the girls’ joy, then turned her head, sighing. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that way.

R
EBEKAH STOMPED IN FROM
the phone shanty after calling a driver, her eyes sparkling. Leah washed dishes and Sadie watched. She longed to go to the barn to see Nevaeh and talk to him, but she knew it was best to remain in the house. The upcoming trip to the mall would be about all she could handle.

There was a general hubbub of activity as each one returned upstairs to shower, dress, and comb her hair. The ironing board was set up in front of the gas stove, a sad iron heating on the round, blue flame. Last minute ironing of coverings was always a necessary part of the routine.

After she was ready, Sadie sat on her chair and watched her mother. She was lying on the recliner, hair uncombed, no covering, her face turned to the wall. Mam’s breathing was even and regular—she was so relaxed, she seemed to be asleep. Sadie decided to try again, just one more time.

“Mam?”

“Hmmm?”

“You sure you don’t want to come with us? You know how much you enjoy Christmas shopping.”

“We don’t have any money.”

“Now, Mam, you know that’s not true.”

Mam sat up very suddenly, her face a mask of anger and despair.

“It is true. Can you even imagine how much your hospital bill was? And there you go, traipsing off to the mall to spend money on Christmas gifts that should be used to pay that bill. And then there’s that useless horse standing idle in the barn, eating up our hay and feed—but no, you don’t think about things like that. You’re all wrapped up in yourself and your own broken foot, and everyone pities you because poor Ezra died.”

Sadie was stunned, speechless. Never had she heard her mother speak with such anger.

“Mam, won’t you please see a doctor? You are not well. You would never have spoken like this before. We’ll even put off the shopping trip to take you.”

But Mam had turned her face to the wall and would not respond no matter how Sadie pleaded. It was like rolling a large rock uphill. You couldn’t do it. You budged it an inch, and it always rolled back.

Mam had become so much worse since the accident. Her rapid decline was especially evident to Sadie, who spent most of her time in the house with Mam. She no longer did her small duties, like washing the dishes, dusting, even reading her Bible in the morning. The largest part of her days was spent lying on the recliner, her face turned to the wall.