Gee Whiz (15 page)

Gee Whiz waited maybe two minutes after I walked away, and then he walked toward the plate, sniffed it, and ate what was on it. While he was doing that, I moved slowly toward him, holding out an apple chunk. When he took it, I turned and walked away. After several very long seconds, he followed me. I walked. He walked. I halted. He walked a step or two. I walked. He walked. I halted. He came up to me. I gave him an apple chunk and walked away. Now I had one left. At this point, we were about halfway between the house and the barn. I could see Dad and Mom looking out the kitchen window. I went back to the mounting block and sat down on it and pretended to be minding my own business. I did have a rope with me, but not a halter.

I sat there.

It was breezy and cold. I bent my knees and wrapped my arms around them.

Gee Whiz came up to me and nuzzled me.

I ignored him.

He nuzzled me again.

I said, “Yup!” and while he was eating the apple chunk, I slipped the rope around his neck. I sat up, and he didn’t pull away. I petted him down the neck and tickled him under the forelock while he sniffed me for more apples. Finally, I got to my feet and led him into the barn. He didn’t pull away. I put him in a stall.

All the other horses were staring at him. I would have liked to know what they were thinking.

Beebop turned out to be in the front yard, which made perfect sense, since that’s where the good grass was.

We put the horses back in their respective pastures, and when Dad walked away, I looked as best I could at the latch of the mare pasture. It was in much better shape than the latch of the gelding pasture—the slot that the bolt shot into was deep, and the bolt moved more easily. If a horse leaned on the gate, nothing would happen. But maybe it worked too well. Maybe a smart horse could take the handle of the latch between his lips and slide it back. He wouldn’t have to then open the gate—any mare who leaned against it would push it open. I then went to look at the gelding latch. I had been the last one to close the gate, after Barbie and I put Gee Whiz away. I remembered making sure to push the bolt as far into the slot as I could, and I had then tried it. It seemed secure to me.

The geldings had walked deep into the pasture—farther than I could see them, but I could hear them moving around under the trees. I took one of the lead ropes and tied it around the gate and the post, making a square knot. Rusty was sitting on the porch when I got there, and I talked to her while I slipped off my boots. I said, “You know what happened, don’t you? You know everything that happens, but we can never get you to tell us a thing.” I patted her on the head.

Back in the house, we went on with Christmas preparations. I could see that Dad was annoyed, but he didn’t say anything, only that I’d done a good job catching the horse, and thank the Lord. I just said, “Maybe I didn’t work the latch properly and they pushed the gate open or something. I tied a rope around it for tonight.”

Dad said, “I have been meaning to whittle that out a little.” Mom kissed me on the cheek. Pretty soon, everything was clean and it was time for bed.

We put the Christmas tree up in the morning—no riding. Dad liked to put the Christmas tree up on Christmas Eve and take it down on New Year’s Day so that we “wouldn’t get tired of the celebration of the birth of the Lord.” When we got to church before four, everyone was there—Sister Brooks had brought Brother Abner, and even Ezra Brooks, who never said anything, was sitting in his usual seat in the back of the room. We were all wearing nice clothes. I was wearing the black-and-white dress Mom had bought me when we were looking for school clothes, plus a black satin headband and pumps. I thought I looked pretty good, and Carlie Hollingsworth did,
too—she said, “Oh, that look is so sophisticated!” Carlie’s dress was bright red, and she had a sprig of holly pinned to her shoulder. She looked like she should be in a departmentstore window. Mom wore her best navy-blue dress and she also had a corsage—a beautiful white gardenia that smelled like heaven. Dad had on his favorite shirt, his best boots, and black trousers that weren’t jeans.

Sister Larkin was already setting up the candles—a hundred of them—and everyone helped her. Then we set out the food for an early supper. Mom had taken the turkey out of the oven just as we left the house so that it would have its required rest on the way to church. While Dad carved it, the other brothers and sisters put out what they had made, and it was quite a feast—shrimp with cocktail sauce, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, three or four vegetable casseroles, two kinds of rolls, Mom’s pie, Sister Brooks’s pie (pumpkin), cupcakes frosted in red and green. I was glad to see there was no Jell-O. Once it was all set out, Mr. Hollingsworth got out his camera and took a picture, then we helped ourselves. I watched Carlie—she took small helpings of everything. I did, too (though a little extra of the turkey and the shrimp), because that’s what wearing a nice dress does to you. I also took three napkins.

At exactly six o’clock, even though some people were still eating their main course, Dad, Mr. Hollingsworth, and Brother Larrabee began lighting the candles. When they were all lit, one of the sisters turned off the lights. By this time, we’d finished with our food, and taken our plates to the table at the back of the room. Now we went to the front of the
room and sang “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” the first carol. We always sang six carols in a row that told the story of Jesus’s birth—“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” was about the Israelites wishing for the advent of their Savior, “The Cherry Tree Carol” was about Joseph and Mary going to Bethlehem (this one always made me cry for some reason), “Joy to the World” was about Jesus being born, “Angels We Have Heard on High” was about the angels announcing the birth, “Away in a Manger” was about Jesus waking up in his manger, and “We Three Kings” was about the three wise men arriving with their gifts. The brothers and sisters knew these carols as well as they knew their own names—they had been singing them, often together, for years, and they knew all the tunes and all the harmonies. Even when their voices were old and shaky, they knew how to make this music very pure and beautiful. I knew my parts, too—I had been singing them my whole life.

Everyone was smiling and pleased after the carols. We sat down and got comfortable. Brother Brooks stood up and opened his Bible to the first Christmas story, the one in Luke. Then Dad got up, and opened his Bible to Matthew, and read that one. The two stories are kind of different, and I preferred the Luke one, but Dad said that it was important to know, from Matthew, how hard it was for Jesus to find his place, and that hardship was often a gift, if you could get yourself to see it that way. However, Christmas wasn’t a time when the brothers and the sisters looked in the Bible for advice and guidance—they just read the passages and celebrated what happened. After the reading, we sang more carols—“It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” “I Heard
the Bells on Christmas Day,” and “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Then Sister Larrabee, who had a beautiful voice and had once sung in a professional choir, stood up and sang “Lo, How a Rose E’re Blooming,” which I thought was the most beautiful. After she was finished and sat down, everyone was silent for a while, and most people bent their heads. I prayed for Danny first of all, and then for all the horses.

After we prayed silently, Mr. Hollingsworth got up and said a long prayer for all of us, that we should ask the Lord for his help in avoiding temptation, in loving our friends and our enemies, in knowing what was right, in facing up to trials with strength and joy, in following the path of Jesus in everything we did. He thanked the Lord for his word, which we could turn to anytime we felt we had to or wanted to. He kissed his Bible, and sat down. We all said, “Amen!” Right next to me, Dad let out one of his grunts—he didn’t like anyone kissing the Bible, because that made it into an idol. But he didn’t say anything. He had pretty much learned to keep his opinions to himself.

Now there was dessert. Mom and Mrs. Hollingsworth cut the pies into small slices, and set one of each onto every plate, along with a cookie. Carlie and I carried the plates to each of the brothers and sisters, and Erica Hollingsworth handed out napkins and forks. Some of the brothers and sisters started chatting about Christmas treats when they were children—mincemeat pie, which had raisins, apples, and candied orange peel, but also suet and minced beef. It made me gag to think of it. Then someone remembered plum pudding, which had not only suet, but also treacle, brandy, and beer. Brother
Abner remembered something called a clootie pudding, which was made with bread crumbs, raisins, and currants. It was full of spices, and even though his mother had a range in her kitchen, she liked to steam it, then dry it in the traditional way, by hanging it in a bag near an open fire. He said, “Half the time she was in the kitchen making Christmas supper, she had to run out and stop us boys from hitting the clootie with a stick to make it swing. Ah, it was so tempting.” He laughed.

One of the sisters said, “Brother Abner, I don’t believe half the tales you tell about your family—you couldn’t have been as wild as you say.”

“Oh, wilder than that!” said Brother Abner. “Four boys in five years is more than any mother can handle. My brother Jacob went to sea when he was thirteen. That was 1888. And we didn’t live anywhere near the ocean. But he had a passion to do it, and one day, he just walked away. My mother was frantic, but my father said he would turn up, and sure enough, he did. After a week, we got a letter from him saying that he’d got himself a position as a cabin boy on a merchant ship sailing to Brazil. I didn’t even know what Brazil was, and maybe he didn’t, either. I went there eventually. Not like any other place I’ve ever been.”

I saw that the sisters were glancing at one another, and then Mom said, “Did you ever see the Amazon River?”

“Oh, I did. Went up the river as far as Macapá, which isn’t all that far, maybe the same as from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, on the Mississippi, but you can only get there by boat. River’s huge around there. Mostly in Brazil I worked on a
rubber plantation. You could do that in those days—did that in Malaya, too. In Hawaii, I worked on a sugar plantation. Just kicked around the world a little too long, I’ve got to say.”

Carlie said, “What was your favorite place?”

Brother Abner gave a big smile as he looked at her, then he said, “Well, in order to decide that, you got to choose between which place was the strangest, or which place was the most beautiful, or in which place were you the happiest? The three aren’t often the same.”

Mom said, “I want to hear all three.”

“Well …,” said Brother Abner. Then he coughed, wiped his mouth, and took a little drink of water.

“Maybe everyone says that the most beautiful is Paris, and Paris is a wonderful town, but I thought the most beautiful spot was on an island in the Caribbean, down from Florida a good ways, called St. Thomas. A white sand bay like you’ve never seen anywhere else. Sir Francis Drake used to lie in wait for pirate ships there. It’s not a place to live in, but it is beautiful. I guess for strangest, that would be Istanbul, it is now. It used to be Constantinople.”

“Constantinople, can you spell it?” muttered Erica. The answer to that question was “i-t.” That was all we knew about Constantinople.

Brother Abner said, “Well, you see, Istanbul connects two continents, Asia and Europe, and you can see that right there, when you’re walking around, in everything that they do. Part of the city looks west and part of the city looks east and part of the city looks back and part of the city looks forward. I just couldn’t get enough when I was there. There are bits from
Roman times, and there’s a huge museum there called Hagia Sophia that was a cathedral, then a mosque. Biggest church in the world, for a while. Looking at it makes you feel like the Romans and the sultans are just around the corner, if you could only manage to see them. Then there’s another mosque, too, they call the Blue Mosque, all blue tiles inside. Then there’s the Grand Bazaar, which is a huge market full of shops, and every shop is overflowing with things. Across the straits, it’s all different, somehow. I couldn’t get enough of walking around there.”

Mom took Brother Abner’s hand and said, “Was that where you were happiest?”

“Oh my, no,” said Brother Abner. “Never could fit in there. Too sunny and busy for a fellow from way upstate New York, USA!” He laughed. “I was happy in Seattle. I had some friends there. We had a little money, enough to feel safe and comfortable from day to day. Good friends. Good food. Thought it would last forever, like you do. But in some ways, the memory is good enough. Out on the flats in the eelgrass, laughing and looking for crabs. Or just walking around town in the evening, thinking it was going to rain forever.” He laughed again. “You got good friends, even the rain is fine with you.”

I said, “I would like to see some of those places.”

And Brother Abner said, “Miss Abby, nothing is stopping you.”

After that, everyone got to talking about other things, and I looked for a while at Brother Abner. He looked better than he had the week before, and the sisters were not whispering
about him. As Mom would have said, his color was pretty good and he seemed “spry.” I guess Mr. Hollingsworth had had his Studebaker towed to the repair shop, and they were going to fix it after Christmas, and until then, he had agreed that the sisters could look in on him every day. He had his plate in his lap. He’d eaten the pumpkin pie and part of the cupcake.

Mom lifted her eyebrows at me, and I poked Carlie. We got up and went around, taking the plates and forks and putting them with the other dirty dishes in the back of the room.

We were used to sitting in church maybe five hours every Sunday—service, then lunch, then Sunday school—but that started by ten in the morning. Now we’d only been there maybe two hours, but everyone was yawning, and Sister Brooks went around and snuffed the candles with a brass candlesnuffer. We all watched her quietly when she did this—that was the end of the candlelight service for another year. Cleaning up took quite a while—partly because the sisters divided up the leftovers for some of the ones who weren’t going to have another Christmas dinner, including Brother Abner. Mom also handed out her little boxes of cookies. Sister Larrabee gave me a secret present, which I opened when I got home—it turned out to be a knitted hat with matching mittens. They were cute—she had knitted a horse into the hat and into the back of each of the mittens. She was a very good knitter who didn’t have so many people to knit for.