A Hourse to Love (3 page)

“I’m Morgan Hendricks.” The girl tugged at a joystick on the right arm of her wheelchair, setting it in reverse. She extended her other hand in welcome.

Ignoring Morgan, Skye fol owed Mrs. Chambers into a spacious living room with country furniture and decorations that made it look like a craft shop.

Peach wal s surrounded a blue carpet, and the room smel ed like cinnamon. Soft music played in the background.

In spite of herself, Skye liked the place just a little even though she didn’t see a television — in that room at least. Everything felt warm, friendly, and different from any other foster home. Peaceful even.

“Welcome home!” A husky man with straight brown hair and a tidy mustache entered, and a familiar odor wafted past Skye’s nose. The man’s green T-shirt and jeans bore a layer of dust and straw. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his feet were covered with poor excuses for white socks.
I
know that smell
, Skye told herself.
It’s like
Flanagan’s barn two foster homes ago.

Skye clenched her teeth. Life was moving so fast that her head spun like a ceiling fan. Yet her outside oozed “cool.” She’d been down this road too many times before.

“So — your name is Skye?” the man asked, shaking her hand. “I’m Tom Chambers. You can cal me Mr. Chambers, Mr. C, or Dad.”

Though it was clearly the friendliest greeting she’d ever had, Skye yanked her hand free from his and

stuck her thumbs in the back pockets of her jeans.

“Not in this lifetime,” she said.

“O — kay, I’m glad to meet you too!” Mr.

Chambers kidded. Then he turned and gave Mrs.

Chambers a kiss on the cheek. “How was your day, dear?”

“Very interesting,” she said. “Did you find the frozen beef stew?”

“Yep. Morgan has it simmering on the stove.

Right?” He looked at the girl listening intently from the wheelchair.

“Yes, sir. Supper’s just about ready,” Morgan replied, turning her chair and heading to the back of the house.

“Looks like the van needs to be emptied,” he said, glancing out the open door.

“Let’s eat first,” Mrs. Chambers suggested. “Then while you bring in Skye’s things, I’l show her around.”She walked toward the kitchen. “This way, Skye. Supper wil be ready in ten minutes, Tom.

After we unpack, it’l be time for Skye’s surprise.” After supper, Mr. Chambers unloaded the van while Morgan cleaned up the “special needs” kitchen: spacious floor, low counters, pots on low hooks, and faucets accessible to kids in wheelchairs.

Humph!
was the only word Skye’s brain could muster since compliments of any kind were not part of her vocabulary. Stil , she caught herself staring as Morgan maneuvered with ease in the kitchen.

“Skye, come with me.” Mrs. Chambers pushed away from the table and headed down a long hal way. While she talked about this bedroom and that room and how they’d al be fil ed during summer camp and blah, blah, blah, Skye planned how to get control of her life again. In addition to restricted use of the TV, there were ridiculous limits on the phone
.

Skye paid little attention to Mrs. Chambers’ words until they reached the end of the hal way and she heard, “This is your bedroom.”

Bedroom. My bedroom? Yeah
,
right. My
bedroom
, Skye thought sarcastical y.
Sure.

She had slept in basements, dens, and even a makeshift “bedroom” over a garage. The only real bedroom she ever remembered was big enough for two, but it housed three sets of bunks.

“We want you to have some privacy,” Mrs.

Chambers said, turning toward Skye. “This is
your
bedroom and no one else’s. I’m sure that’s different from other foster homes you’ve been in. We’l respect your privacy as long as you don’t give us any reason not to.” She winked before opening the last door on the right.

Like a book cover to a fairy tale, the door revealed a room with a single bed dwarfed by a white spread so fluffy it looked like a summer cloud. Strangely, there were no curtains on the two windows, al owing the late afternoon sun to bathe everything in gold dust. Dark hardwood floors gave the room a look of royal elegance. Despite there being no pictures on the wal s or decorations on the dresser or desk, Skye was impressed. Aware that her mouth had just fal en open, she snapped it shut and plunged her thumbs in her pockets to cover up her delight.

“As you can see, it’s nice and roomy,” Mrs.

Chambers said. “As for the curtains, pictures, and things like that, we were sure you’d have some ideas of your own. We’l go shopping soon and you can pick out some things that would make this room just right for you, including another bedspread if you don’t like this one. And you can unpack later. First there’s someone I want you to meet.” Skye’s pout took hold again as she fol owed Mrs.

Chambers down the long hal way into the living room.
Now what?

“Okay, Tom!” Mrs. Chambers yel ed.

Skye heard a door open and before she could take her next breath two smal white dogs tore into the room, barking, jumping up against her legs, squealing, and squirming.

“Get them away from me!” Skye screamed as she flopped backward into a cushioned chair, pushed herself farther back into it, and kicked at the dogs.

Her outside “cool” completely vanished, overtaken by a panic that screeched from her voice. “I hate dogs; they’re dirty and they bite!”

“Here, boys,” Mrs. Chambers ordered as she relaxed onto the sofa. Both dogs launched themselves next to her, wiggling, barking, and licking her face.

“Skye,” Mr. Chambers said as he entered the room, “you’re only afraid of things you don’t understand. Dogs are some of the friendliest creatures God put on this earth. Their one desire is to please us.” He sat next to his wife, patted the dogs, and scratched their backs.

“I don’t care,” Skye replied. “I hate dogs.”

“They won’t hurt you,” Mrs. Chambers said. She stood up and held her hand shoulder high. Both dogs hopped to the floor and watched her hand without moving a muscle.

“Now watch,” she continued. “Dogs can be trained to obey your every whim. There’s no need to be afraid of them, particularly these West Highland terriers. They love kids, especial y girls. Skye, meet Tippy Canoe and Tyler Too, better known as Tip and Ty.”

One dog sat on his haunches, raising his front paws like he was praying. The other one walked on his hind legs in a circle and barked.

“Aren’t they adorable?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

“Say hel o, boys.”

A barrage of friendly barks echoed off the wal s until Mrs. Chambers lowered her arm. The dogs sat down.

“In about three days, they’l desert Morgan and start looking for you at bedtime,” Mr. Chambers said.

“They love the new kid on the block. If you don’t become bosom buddies, it won’t be their fault.” Skye stared viciously at the dogs. “Was this the big surprise?”

“No, that’s out back,” Mr. Chambers said.

Mrs. Chambers added, “I think it’s time you meet someone very special.”

Skye could hardly take another surprise. The last month had been ful of surprises she could have done without: thrown out of one more foster home, battling Judge Mitchel , juvie hal again, stuck in another strange place with more strangers who were going to “help” her, attacked by two wild beasts, and now what? To her this al seemed like one big, cruel joke orchestrated by none other than Hannah Gilbert.

Wouldn’t she just be thrilled to death to see me
now?
Skye fumed.

“Come on, Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said as she walked toward a sliding glass door in the dining room. “Let’s go outside. Morgan, we’l finish the dishes later. Come with us.” She slid open the door.

Mr. Chambers led, fol owed by his wife, Morgan in her wheelchair, the two white dogs, and Skye in the back, her face as red as her T-shirt and her fists stuffed into her pockets. The wooden deck outside led them down a long wooden ramp onto a sidewalk.

The parade made its way down a gentle slope through the lawn to a white fence enclosing a red barn and spacious pasture.

The afternoon sun had already given way to evening shadows, and the air now felt crisp and damp. Everything had a pinkish cast to it that made the scene look like a Saturday morning cartoon. A strong “Flanagan’s barn” smel permeated the air.

Skye felt like screaming as she brought up the rear. She hated fol owing directions, and she real y hated being last. It didn’t matter how nice this place was. She had to get out of this trap. But how? Dark thoughts pul ed her face into hateful contortions.

“This is ridiculous!” she yel ed. Her words fel on deaf ears as everyone focused on the large meadow on the other side of the fence.

Skye scanned the field before her as she slowly approached the fence. In the distance, near a pond and under a clump of trees, stood a smal herd of horses.

Mr. Chambers leaned on the fence with his elbows, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and released a shril whistle.

Skye stepped back, glaring intently as the horses lifted their heads and started running toward the fence. They came up the gentle slope, manes and tails flying in the breeze.
One
,
two
,
three
,
four
,
five
,
six!
Skye counted as she backed farther away. As they charged toward the barn, Skye focused on the horse in the lead, smal er than the rest but fast as the wind.

The rumble of their hooves on the ground took Skye back to when she was younger, alone in bed during a terrible thunderstorm, and she backed onto the sidewalk
.
“Just what I need to make my day perfect,” she yel ed.“Stinking horses!” Mr. Chambers crawled onto the top of the fence just as the herd came to a sliding halt in front of him.

“I’l get their oats,” Mrs. Chambers said, unlatching a chain around the gate. “Stay!” she ordered Tip and Ty as she squeezed through the opening and hurried into the barn. Both dogs retreated, lying down next to Morgan.

Mr. Chambers jumped into the pasture and singled out the lead horse from the cluster now shuffling in front of the barn. Snapping a rope into the halter, he maneuvered it outside the fence and closed the gate.

From inside the barn, Mrs. Chambers slid open a big steel door and, single file, the other five horses hurried in.

Morgan backed up, pivoting her chair to watch what would happen next.

“Skye, this is Champ, our registered Sorrel Quarter Horse. We cal him Champ because he is one. The big bay mare is his mother, Pepsi,” Tom said, pointing toward the open barn door.

“Champ, meet Skye.”

The horse nodded three times, then let out a whinny that edged Skye back a few more feet.

You only fear things you don’t understand.
Mr.

Chambers’ words echoed in Skye’s mind. But Skye
wa s
afraid. She had always hated and avoided animals, especial y big ones. And this thing was so

—
big!
Now there was no escape. Skye scanned the creature from head to tail as she stood glued to the ground.

Slowly, Mr. Chambers led the horse closer to where Skye stood. Champ inched forward and reached his head toward Skye.

Skye stiffened, ready to back away again.

“Don’t move. He’s sniffing you,” the man said. “He won’t hurt you. Champ is one of the sweetest horses I’ve ever known.”

Hanging on the man’s words, Skye tried to relax but felt her knees starting to shake. Brave? Put hotshot juvenile delinquent Skye Nicholson up against any human, male or female, and she’d throw the last punch. But animals? Horses? She was a bowl of Jel -O. “Does he bite?” she asked sheepishly.

“Only apples, and I think he can tel you aren’t wearing one.”

Gently, the horse inspected Skye’s bare arms, snorting, and then he licked her with his warm, sticky tongue. It felt clean and moist.

“Let him smel your hands,” Mr. Chambers said.

He pul ed the rope gently to lift the horse’s head.

Skye crept her hands out of her pockets and opened both palms under the horse’s muzzle. The horse sniffed and snorted, and then licked her again.

Amazed, Skye released a tiny giggle. It was the first time she could remember laughing in an awful y long time.

“What’s he doing?” she asked.

“He’s getting to know you. I’l tel you right now he likes you a lot. He doesn’t nudge his muzzle up to just anybody. Yep. He likes you a lot.” Skye found herself with strange, new feelings. She had never touched a horse. She hated animals, or at least she thought she did. Her short stay at the Flanagan’s consisted of watching the cows from the back porch of the house. But now, deep inside, she felt a warm glow as she looked into the deep brown eyes of this gorgeous, friendly animal.