Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail (30 page)

“Maybe you have something there,” said Sam. “She did end up living near Calico Mountains and she is attending a horse and art camp. Maybe she’s able to get clues about the future. Who knows—maybe she’s psychic.”

“Yuck,” Carrie said. “This sounds like those dumb people on TV who tell people’s fortunes. I’m not a nutzo like them.”

“No, you’re not a nutzo, but just keep in mind some people who have a keen sixth sense use those gifts to help find missing children and solve crimes. What did they see when
they
were children?” Brenda asked, hugging her daughter. “I’m not saying you’re psychic, honey. What I’m trying to say is I think you’re very special and maybe meditation can help you use your gift.”

“I agree, Carrie,” Sam added. “Your dreams really do seem connected and it’ll be interesting to see where they lead. Either way, I hope you discover the reason for these bizarre pieces of calico.”

Flannel leaned her head on Carrie’s lap, snuggling against her. Sam and Brenda looked out at the Calico Mountains in silence, wondering what special meaning they held and why they had entered Carrie’s dream world. Carrie fingered the fabric again. “I don’t know who has been putting these everywhere but I do know who can use them,” she said. “I forgot to tell you about another fabric connection.” Sam and Brenda sat up with interest, waiting to hear if perhaps there was another untold dream.

“There’s this group back in New Jersey sewing patchwork quilts for needy kids. My best friend Shannon just told me she and her grandmom are using calico squares.” Carrie pushed some swatches together to form a little pattern and looked up at the women. They opened their mouths to say something and then stopped. They looked at one another, sending unspoken messages about talking later when Carrie was not around. Brenda poured more coffee into each of their cups and Carrie fed Flannel a biscuit. Brenda thought it was probably best to change the subject, as she was sure all of this must have been upsetting for her daughter. Sam got the hint that the discussion was closed, but could not stop thinking about the dreams and the round-ups and the kid in New Jersey sewing with calico fabric, the same fabric she had been finding all over the place. Where were they coming from? Why all the dreams? Did they have a purpose or was it all just a quirky coincidence.

Brenda wiped the kitchen counter and thought: My daughter is not a palm reader or a fortune-teller. She’s just getting messages like any other normal person. I get messages all the time when I meditate, which reminds me—I need to call my mom. She looked over at her daughter, who seemed to have forgotten all of this talk about dreams and mysterious fabric. Carrie was teaching Flannel a new trick and was totally preoccupied with the lesson.

“So, what’s on your schedule today, Sam?” asked Brenda, trying to clear the air and change the topic of conversation.

“I have to run out for some errands. Nothing too exciting. How about you?”

“I think today might be a good day for Carrie and me to go exploring. Maybe visit a park or go to a lake—just do something fun. How does that sound, Carrie?” Brenda picked up a local travel brochure.

“I think it sounds great. You get to learn where stuff is in Saddlecrest while I pretend we’re all not freakin’ out about my dreams,” said the girl.

Brenda looked away as Sam tried not to laugh.

“Maybe I really am a wacko TV psychic,” said Carrie, “because reading your mind is way too easy, Mom.”

Chapter 48

Tuesday, July 15:

Dad called last night and he told me Aunt Lucy’s having another baby. That will make six cousins now, but I guess I won’t see them for a long time. I miss Gabby and Dennis the most and Dad said he asked them to call me. Nobody ever calls me except Dad and Shannon. Mom-mom said she doesn’t like me near the big horses at camp. Geez, when will she stop thinking of me as a little kid? I’m still a bit freaked over these swatches that are appearing everywhere. I feel like there’s this huge puzzle all around me and somehow I’m one of the pieces. I’m not sure who to talk to about it. Mom says I should meditate and so does Sam. They both practice it every day and they say it helps to quiet your mind and figure stuff out. I’m not sure how to make my thoughts turn off and I usually end up fidgeting the whole time. I’m gonna try it again, though, and not tell my mom. Besides, we already meditate at camp. We all sit in a group and do it together right before we begin to paint. I like it and Milla even says she thinks I’m getting better with my drawings. I can’t stop thinking about Shannon and her calico quilts and my dreams. What does all of this have to do with me?

Carrie walked about twenty feet from Flannel and turned to face her. The collie was sitting with her ears straight up at full attention. This signaled she was ready to begin their daily training exercises. Carrie checked her watch and noted the time. Three minutes later she raised her arm, placed her hand palm down, and swung it toward the ground, giving the command “down.” Flannel dropped onto her belly, facing forward, her eyes glued on Carrie, who checked her watch again. This was the most difficult command to teach, since cats and squirrels easily distracted Flannel. All of the commands were unspoken and given only by hand signals. Carrie kept a sharp eye out as they were training off-leash today and runaway collies were not part of the lesson. A few birds flew in and out of the trees and Flannel glanced up but snapped back to attention as Carrie shifted her weight. She kept constant eye contact with the collie, alerting her they were still in work mode. Just then Max came around the corner and Flannel jumped up. Carrie stood still and repeated her down-stay command, this time adding her voice, “Flannel, down. Flannel, stay.” The dog was whimpering and looking back and forth between Carrie and the cat, and then returned to her down position, clearly upset with the pesky cat. Realizing it was torturous to keep Flannel lying on a stay command as Max teasingly cleaned himself, Carrie brought the training to an end sooner than she had planned. She dropped her right arm and swung her hand up about hip level, palm facing up. Flannel snapped to a sitting position. Carrie was worried the tense collie was ready to explode into cat-chasing action. But she has to learn, thought Carrie, making a split-second decision not to return to the dog, but call the dog to come to her instead. Being off-leash was a training step that she and Flannel began in New Jersey, working in an enclosed yard. Here they were working in an open area where any distraction might cause Flannel to abandon her training and run off. Carrie quickly swung her right arm up chest high and then, bending her elbow, snapped her open palm toward her in one sweep. Flannel raced forward following the command to come. Max had no understanding of obedience training and thought all of the hand swishing and dog running meant he needed to skedaddle. The girl saw a sudden flash of orange in the corner of her eye and her heart froze. Flannel continued running, but seemed to stumble as her head jerked to watch Max. Carrie stood perfectly still and watched, as the collie seemed to make a split-second decision and came to stand directly in front of her trainer. Carrie let out the breath she was holding and dropped to her knees, praising the dog. “Good girl, Flannel, good dog,” she said, hugging the collie that seemed quite proud of herself.

“Play time, play time!” came the voice from the patio. Flannel, hearing the cue to relax, began jumping up and down and barking.

“Hey, Milla,” Carrie said as she slipped Flannel a treat. “You’re here early.”

Milla tossed her backpack onto a nearby bench. “I can’t believe she didn’t chase that cat!”

“You saw that? You have no idea how scared I was. Hey, hey, take it easy, girl,” Carrie said, laughing as Flannel, now nose deep, was searching her pocket for another biscuit.

“Yeah, I saw the whole thing and I have to tell you, it really reminds me of horse camp. I didn’t see the similarities until just now.”

“Yep, I agree. It’s all about body language and just showing respect to the animals.”

“It’s too bad we can’t send some people for obedience training,” said Milla, frowning.

“This sounds like a Foot story,” Carrie said as they walked toward the bungalow.

“Wait until I tell you what happened yesterday,” Milla groaned.

The girls noisily chatted as they headed into the back of the house and up to Carrie’s room. This was their day off from camp when they usually hung out together. The air conditioner was the type that stuck part way out the window and often seemed to switch into extra hum mode.

“I like your air conditioner,” said Milla, “it kinda acts like a block-out machine.” Carrie and Milla loved this as it felt as if no one would ever hear their private conversations. “Sometimes it wakes me up, though,” replied Carrie. “But I like how we can say anything and my mom won’t hear us,” she giggled.

“Have you told her about all of my Foot fiascos?” Milla asked.

“No, not all of them. You know adults—she thinks you should have your dad talk to Foot, as if that would do any good. He would just get meaner and nastier for you having opened your mouth.”

“Yeah,” Milla said, “that’s the last thing I need. I’m trying to talk my dad into letting me go to Mrs. Burke’s instead of Mrs. Adams’ when school starts up.”

“Oh, right,” said Carrie. “I showed my mom that flyer about afterschool activities at the Hidden Valley Camp. She’s not sure we can afford it, but she said she’s thinking about it.” Suddenly, Carrie looked up. “I just got an amazing idea. You know how this air conditioner blocks stuff out so nobody can hear us?”

“Yeah…what about it?” replied Milla.

“Well, my mom keeps telling me that meditation is helpful in blocking out the chatter and clearing away the noise of random thoughts.”

“You’re losing me. What does the air conditioner have to do with this?”

“No, not the air conditioner. I meant what it does. It’s like a sound barrier. If we could learn how to meditate, maybe it could help you with Foot and maybe it will help me stop thinking about my parents’ divorce.”

“How will it help?” asked Milla. “Isn’t it just sitting crossed-legged on the floor and humming?”

“Well, I guess for some people it is, but my mom and Sam use a type of meditation that’s easy and only fifteen minutes a day. I’ve tried it, but now I think I understand it better. It can be a way to sort of erase the bad stuff you think about and move your thoughts into the good stuff. You just sit in a comfortable chair, like this.” Carrie pushed her backpack onto the floor and sat on her chair.

“My mom always says to say a short little request for the right kind of energy and protection. You just close your eyes and then sit in silence for about fifteen minutes. That’s all there is to it. See? Pretty simple. The hard part is the not thinking of anything. You don’t wait for anything to happen, you just learn to take any thoughts that come along and pay them no attention. Clear an empty space in your mind, my mom says. We actually do this meditation in camp sometimes when we begin our painting classes. It’s a way to learn how to block out the world around us and just sit peacefully.”

“Oh, yeah, now I get it. I love when we sit in a group and do this at camp. But I still don’t get how this will help me with a bully,” said Milla, shaking her head.

“Well, I’m not sure, either, but maybe if you stop thinking about it, your mind will open up to better stuff.”

“I would love to
not
think of it. All I do is think about it over and over again.”

“Well, come on,” said Carrie. “Let’s start today. My mom thinks it will help me feel better about moving from New Jersey. She also thinks it might help me figure out some of the Calico dreams I’ve been having.”

“You’re having more? Tell me, tell me. I want to hear everything…and no leaving any parts out,” said Milla as she jumped onto the bed.

Carrie shared all that she had seen in her dreams. She told Milla about all of the calico swatches of fabric that had been appearing, seemingly from thin air. Milla sat quietly with wide eyes. Carrie explained how her friend Shannon had been sewing tiny calico quilts. She went on to tell her how the quilts were being used for premature babies and small children located all over the country. She then told Milla how her mom thought she was being given some sort of message and had suggested meditation. The two girls sat on the bed staring off into space. What did all of this mean? Could it all really be connected?

“So,” said Milla. “Are we going to do this meditation stuff together, or does it work better alone?”

“I say we go ask my mom and Sam a little more about it. I don’t know how it all works, but I can tell you this,” Carrie said thoughtfully, “I’d rather learn to connect with my higher self or whatever Mom calls it than have to go to some shrink or counselor. I overheard my mom on the phone arguing with my dad about me needing help.”

“Yeah, same here. I heard Mrs. Burke talking to Mrs. Preston about me. They mentioned me needing a counselor.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to go talk to a stranger,” said Carrie.

“Me neither,” Milla agreed. “Let’s go find your mom.”

Just then they were startled by a cough. They turned to see Brenda putting laundry away in Carrie’s drawers. Milla and Carrie looked at each other in astonishment. Brenda looked up. “Go find me for what?”

“Umm…er…how long have you been up here?” asked Carrie.

“I just came up to put these clothes away. You probably didn’t hear me come up with that noisy air conditioner humming so loudly. Why, did I miss something?” she asked. “What did you want to go find me for, Milla?”