Starlight Christmas (2 page)

Relieved, the waitress left.

“Why didn’t you get ice cream?” Lisa asked.

“Well, I have to fit into my dress for the New Year’s Eve dance, don’t I?”

Lisa and Carole looked at their slender friend in surprise.

“So what are you wearing that you’re having trouble fitting into?” Carole asked.

“I don’t know,” Stevie said. “I haven’t bought it yet, but I want to be sure it fits when I do.”

Lisa and Carole couldn’t help themselves. They started laughing. Stevie laughed, too.

“So, back to the Starlight Ride,” Lisa said. “Tell me about it.”

“Right,” Carole said. Carole and Stevie had been riding at Pine Hollow for a long time, while Lisa had only started six months earlier. She was an apt pupil and had learned a lot in that short period, but there were still certain traditions she didn’t know about. Pine Hollow was owned and run by Max Regnery—the third-generation Regnery to do so. Max’s mother, Mrs. Reg, was his business manager and a friend to all the kids who rode there. Since the stable had been in the Regnery family for so long, many Pine Hollow traditions had developed over the years. The Starlight Ride was one of everybody’s favorites.

“On Christmas Eve, at about seven o’clock, all the young riders at Pine Hollow come to the stable and saddle up. We leave about seven-thirty. We follow a trail marked with lanterns that Max and the stablehands have laid out in the fields and through the woods. The trail leader carries a huge torch. Sometimes we sing Christmas carols and Hanukkah songs as we go. Anyway, we end up at the town center where there’s a crèche and a menorah and we have a party.”

“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Lisa said.

“It’s more than that,” Stevie said. “It’s magic. It’s hard
to explain, though. It’s just really wonderful. But Carole left out one of the most important things about it. Since she was the one who got the best-overall-rider award last summer, she’s the one who will lead us all and carry the torch!”

“Wow!” Lisa said. “That’s great! You won’t get us lost, though, will you?”

“I think I can follow a path laid out by bright lanterns,” Carole said. “And I’m sure that Barq won’t let anything bad happen to me in between lanterns.”

“How’s that?” Lisa asked.

“Didn’t you know that horses can see in the dark?” Stevie asked.

“No, I didn’t know that,” Lisa said. “But I do now. So how come we don’t do a lot more riding at night?”

“Well, for the horses, it wouldn’t be a problem. The problem is the people,” Carole explained. “See, the horse doesn’t know that his rider can’t see, so he’ll go wherever the rider tells him, even when his own eyes tell him better. He’ll duck right under a low-slung branch that’ll knock the rider right off his back.”

Lisa didn’t like the sound of that. “Could that happen on the Starlight Ride?”

“Oh, no,” Carole assured her. “That’s why Max lays out the trail first with the lanterns. We’ll be fine. And it will be wonderful!”

“One dish of banana yogurt, one fudge sundae, and one diet cola,” the waitress announced, putting the orders
in front of them. Then she turned to Stevie. “Oh, and when I told the counterman what you’d ordered, he wanted me to check to see if you have a fever. I told him it wouldn’t do any good. It’s the other times you might be sick. For once, you’re normal!”

Stevie nodded. Then, as the woman went away, she turned to her friends. “Whatever was that poor lady talking about?” she asked, tamping her straw down on the table to remove the wrapper. “Must be a very stressful job here, I guess.”

The girls chatted as they finished their orders, alternating from horse talk to discussions of what kind of dress Stevie should get for the New Year’s Eve dance. Soon, they were ready to leave and paid their bill. Mrs. Durham, the mother of one of their friends who rode at Pine Hollow, had offered to take Stevie and Lisa to the mall. The girls saw her car pull up to the curb. Mrs. Durham honked and Lisa and Stevie ran, leaving Carole to collect their change and leave a tip while she waited for her bus. She saw them wave gaily from the rear seat of the Durhams’ station wagon as they left. Carole waved back.

She knew they’d have fun at the mall and she didn’t mind. She wasn’t really in a Christmas mood anyway. Being by herself, working on the sock, was a better idea for her for that afternoon.

The waitress brought their change. Carole figured out the tip, left it on the table, and stepped out into the cool December afternoon. She noticed the snowflakes this
time as they drifted down through the streams of light from the parking-lot lamps. The flakes, so pretty and so delicate in the air, melted as they reached the ground, merging with all the other dampness that penetrated Carole’s shoes. She quickly became cold and uncomfortable.

Carole’s bus turned into the parking lot and honked. She waved and climbed aboard when it stopped. She paid her fare and took a seat. Soon she’d be home, working on making this Christmas better—the best ever. She was sure she could do it.

Yes
, she told herself,
this Christmas will be good. Maybe.

T
HE MALL, ALWAYS
a fun place to be, was even more inviting in the holiday season. It seemed to Stevie and Lisa that every single store was bursting with beautiful, tempting things.

“Did you see those earrings?” Stevie asked, nudging Lisa. “Do you think Carole would like them?”

Lisa looked where Stevie pointed. The earrings in question were made of feathers and designed to dangle to the wearer’s shoulders. The feathers were electric orange, with peacock-blue tips. Carole was a casual but conservative dresser. She usually wore little gold hoops or pearl-dot earrings. “I don’t think those are really right for Carole,” Lisa said as tactfully as she could. Then she saw the look on Stevie’s face and continued, “But I really
think the look is
you
, so I’ll probably sneak back here and buy them for you later. Is that what you want?”

“For New Year’s Eve,” Stevie agreed. The girls giggled together.

They wandered through a lot of shops and department stores. What they both wanted, more than anything, was to get Carole something that would make her Christmas better.

“It’s so hard, you know,” Stevie said, sifting through a box of scarves that were on sale. “I mean, I know Carole will like whatever we give her, but we don’t want to give her something that’s just
nice
; we want to give her something that’s perfect.”

The girls abandoned scarves and wended their way to another counter.

“Fuzzy slippers?” Lisa said. Stevie shook her head. Lisa knew she was right. Carole wasn’t the fuzzy slipper type.

“How about some funky socks?” Stevie suggested. It was worth a try. But all the socks seemed either too funky or not funky enough.

“Do you think she’d like a belt?” Stevie asked. They tried, but they had no better luck there.

It seemed that everywhere they turned in the mall, there were wonderful stores with marvelous things in the windows and on the racks and shelves, but there was nothing that was just right for Carole—nothing that could change another Christmas without her mother from okay to wonderful.

Stevie found a bright red nightshirt for her twin brother, Alex, and a book about horror movies for her older brother, Chad. Lisa found an elegant kitchen clock for her parents and a sweater for her brother.

“Maybe a book about horses?” Stevie offered. They spent a long time in the book department, but that only served to underline the basic problem: The only perfect present for Carole was a horse!

C
AROLE LET HERSELF
into the house and locked the door behind her. She had gotten used to coming home to an empty house, but that didn’t make her like it. She turned on the lights, hung up her coat, and headed for her room. The unfinished socks were in a bag tucked under her bed. She took off her shoes, turned on her radio, and began to work on the foot. It wasn’t hard. The tricky pattern work was finished. This section needed to be shaped, but the instructions were easy to follow. Besides, she’d already done the other foot. This was exactly the same.

Carole’s coal-black kitten, Snowball, lay in a little ball at the foot of her bed. Carole had given her pet the name because it was as contrary as he was. It seemed that no matter what Carole told him to do, he did the exact opposite. Now, she wished he would wake up and keep her company. He usually wanted to play with the yarn as she knit anyway. But he was having none of it. He slept.

“Go to sleep, Snowball,” she said. “Whatever you do,
don’t come play with this yarn. And for goodness’ sake, stay at the foot of the bed.”

He did.

Carole was immediately suspicious. Snowball was nothing if not predictable. She’d never known him to do what she said. She put down her knitting and reached down to pat him. He lifted his head wearily, acknowledging her touch, and then put it back. Something was wrong.

Carole scratched his head where he liked it best, right on top. Usually this made his ears droop a little, as if to make more space for her to scratch, but this time his ears stayed where they were. Carole was concerned and decided to watch him carefully.

She returned to her knitting. She’d finished another inch of the foot when Snowball rose slightly and then began making strange sounds, as if he was coughing and trying to bring something up. Then he stopped the coughing and settled back down again.

That settled it. Carole decided to get hold of the veterinarian, Judy Barker. Judy was primarily an equine veterinarian, but she also looked after the other animals around her clients’ barns, and that always included cats. Judy had known Snowball since he’d been born and she would know what to do.

Carole looked up Judy’s number and telephoned her. Judy answered on the first ring. Much to Carole’s surprise,
she found herself talking to the vet on her car phone.

“It makes me feel so important!” Carole joked.

“You are,” Judy assured her. “You are. So, what’s up?”

Carole described Snowball’s odd behavior and asked if she could bring the kitten into Judy’s clinic.

“Sure you can, Carole, but actually, I’m only about three minutes from your house. Why don’t I save you some time and worry and come by and take a look at Snowball now?”

“You’d do that?”

“Not usually,” Judy admitted. “But my next stop is to see a horse who likes to kick me. I’d rather put that off a few minutes to check on Snowball. And besides, you’re on my way.”

The next thing Carole knew, Judy was pulling her truck into the Hansons’ driveway and knocking on the door. Carole let her in and brought her upstairs to where Snowball still lay.

Judy patted the black kitten reassuringly and then checked him carefully. She took his temperature, listened to his heart, and looked down his throat.

“He’s got a nice, long, smooth coat, doesn’t he?” she remarked to Carole.

“Yes, he does,” Carole agreed. “Sometimes it seems like he leaves piles of fur wherever he’s been! It means I have to vacuum a lot, but I don’t mind.”

Judy smiled. “Well, this is a healthy cat. What’s up is that he’s got a hair ball, which is just a collection of fur he swallows when he gives himself a bath. He’ll cough it up and that’ll be it.” Judy gave Carole some medicine that would both help him cough up the hair ball and help prevent him from forming another. Then, as they were talking, Snowball stood up again, jumped down onto the floor, coughed hard several times, and produced the offending hair ball. He looked up at Carole and his doctor as if to say, “So, aren’t you proud of me?” and immediately began playing with the wool on Carole’s father’s sock.

“I guess there wasn’t much to worry about, huh?” Carole asked sheepishly.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” Judy assured her. “If an owner’s concerned, I’m concerned. I’d rather have you call me when you’ve just noticed that something’s wrong and it turns out to be minor than to have you wait until something serious is wrong and it’s so wrong that I can’t do anything about it. I wish all my house calls were as pleasant as this one.”

Carole offered Judy a cup of tea, to help strengthen her for the kicking horse she was about to meet. Judy accepted gladly.

“Are you still thinking about becoming a veterinarian?” Judy asked.

“Oh, sure,” Carole said. “Maybe, anyway. What I really know is that I want to work with horses. I just can’t
decide how. Maybe I’ll just ride. Maybe I’ll become a trainer, or a breeder, or a vet. As long as it’s horses, I’ll be happy.” The pot whistled and Carole poured the hot water onto the tea bags. “Milk or lemon?” she asked.

“Just plain,” Judy said. “Thank you.” She accepted her cup from Carole and stirred her tea. “You know, if you want to be a vet, maybe you ought to get a taste of what it’s like. You see me occasionally at Pine Hollow, and every once in a while at your home or in my clinic, but that’s not the same as seeing me doing the rounds on all my equine patients. Would you like to do that sometime?”

Carole gaped. Then she realized her mouth was hanging open and she shut it. “
Like to?
” she asked. “I’d
love
to!”

“Well, aren’t you on vacation now? Do you have any free time?”