The Christmas Pony (8 page)

“I, uh, I don't know.”

“Please, George. If we have to be stuck in this little one-horse town, we should at least get to have some fun. Please, say you'll take me to the Christmas dance.”

He glanced at Lucy. “Let me think about it.”

Using a little girl sort of voice, Veronica begged him a while longer, but George didn't answer one way or another. Even so, all the way home, she continued to chatter on and on about how much fun the dance would be, and what she would wear, and how it would make her time in this “one-horse town” a little more bearable. Lucy wanted to point out that their town had a lot more than just one horse. Although it was possible there was only one pony in Maple Grove. At least only one that Lucy knew about.

By the time they got home, Lucy couldn't wait to get away from Veronica, but first she spoke politely to George. “It's a very nice car,” she told him. “And it was fun to see Smoky today. I know he liked the apples. Thank you very much.” Then she hurried into the house and started setting the table.

“We have good news.” Grandma set the butter dish on the table.

“What?” Lucy paused with the soup spoons in her hand.

“One more room will be filled starting tomorrow. And for more than a week.”

“During Christmastime?”

Grandma explained how the Farleys already had a houseful of people coming to visit. “Their second boy, Howard, is
getting married right after Christmas. So Mrs. Farley called to ask if her elderly aunt and uncle could stay here.”

“That is good news.” Lucy carefully set a soup spoon down.

“Naturally, they'll spend the holidays and whatnot at the Farley house, but we will have them the rest of the time.” Grandma smiled as she adjusted a place setting. “Four paying guests during Christmas. It's a real windfall.”

Lucy suspected there might not be
four
paying guests. She'd given it some thought, and if Veronica was truly penniless, how would she pay her bill when it came time for her to check out? Not that Lucy planned to mention this to anyone—not after she'd been sworn to secrecy. Even so, Lucy knew that three paying guests were better than none. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time someone had been unable to pay the bill.

M
r. and Mrs. Dorchester arrived not long after Lucy and Grandma had cleaned up lunch on Thursday afternoon. “If you're hungry,” Lucy said as she showed the older couple to their room, “my grandma will fix you a snack.”

“We haven't eaten since breakfast on the train,” Mrs. Dorchester said as she set her handbag on the dresser. “And that wasn't anything to speak of. Goodness knows, with the price of train fare these days, one should be able to find something decent to eat on the train.”

“Was it exciting traveling by train?” Lucy asked.

“Heavens no!” Mrs. Dorchester unpinned her hat with a sour expression. “I wouldn't wish train travel on my worst enemies.”

“Oh.” Lucy was surprised since it always looked glamorous in the movies.

“We would've come by automobile except for this horrid snow. Why on earth Howie wanted to get married in the middle of winter is a mystery to me.”

“Maybe the bride picked the date,” Mr. Dorchester suggested.

She glared at her husband, then looked back at Lucy. “Please tell your grandmother that we would appreciate something to eat as soon as possible,” Mrs. Dorchester instructed. “And tell her that I have sensitivity to onions and raw vegetables.”

Lucy nodded.

“And if she could please hurry it a bit.” Mrs. Dorchester held the back of a plump white hand against her forehead. “I am feeling a bit faint.”

“I'll go down and set the table,” Lucy told her as she rushed from the room. It seemed like Mrs. Dorchester was going to be what Grandma called a
dingdong
fussbudget
. Naturally Grandma hadn't said this knowing that Lucy was listening, and as far as Lucy knew, she'd only said it about that one guest, but Lucy felt certain that Mrs. Dorchester was one of those.

Grandma was warming some leftover stew, which unfortunately had onions that Grandma had tried to pick out, and Lucy was just finishing up the table when George came in, stomping the snow from his boots. “Are you ready to go to town for your Christmas pageant practice?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes!” Lucy looked at the clock. “I nearly forgot.”

She set down the last cup and called out to Grandma that George was taking her to town now.

“Did I hear someone say they're going to town?” Veronica said as she came down the stairs. “Any chance I could come along too?”

“We have to get going in the next few minutes,” George told her, “in order to get Lucy to the church on time. I'm already warming up the car, so you'd better hurry.”

“I won't be but a minute,” she chirped as she headed back up the stairs.

Lucy got her coat and things and went outside with George. “Thank you for giving me a ride,” she told him.

“It's my pleasure.” He grinned as he opened the door for her. “Besides, I need to pick up a little something at Hempley's Garage.”

Once they were in the car, she asked how his mechanical work on their old car was coming along. “I haven't told Mama or Grandma anything,” she said quietly, as if someone might hear her, although Mama was doing laundry and Grandma was in the kitchen.

“It's coming along just swell,” he said. “I expect to have her up and running by Christmas.”

“So you
will
stay with us until Christmas?” she said hopefully.

“As long as this weather keeps up, I don't have much of a choice.”

She told George about the dingdong fussbudget guest, and he threw back his head and laughed. “They'll be here until after Christmas?”

“Yes, but her husband seems real nice,” Lucy assured him. “And I could be wrong about Mrs. Dorchester. Maybe she was just tired. Please don't tell anyone I told you that about her.”

“No worries, Lucy. Your secret is safe with me.”

Lucy looked back at the house, wondering where Veronica was.

“I told her to hurry,” he said. “Maybe we should just leave without her.” He put the car into gear, and just as the tires moved, out came Veronica with her coat flapping behind her.

“Wait!” she cried as she hurried down the steps, tugging on her gloves.

The car took off as she closed the car door. “Now I'll need to drive faster than I like,” George said.

“I was moving as fast as I could,” she told him.

“Remember the reverend said the children aren't to be late.” George's car tore through the snow of their driveway and onto the road.

“Well, please excuse me for being a bit slow.” Veronica used a sharp-sounding voice. “But if you'd given me a little more notice . . .”

Lucy pressed her lips tightly together and slumped down into the seat. She didn't like to be the reason for their fight, but she couldn't think of anything to say to make things better. The three of them rode in silence, but as they got closer to the Greenburg farm, Lucy sat up tall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Smoky. What she saw sent a cold chill down her spine.

“The sign is gone!” she cried out.

“What sign?” Veronica demanded. “A stop sign? George, do you need to stop?”

“No, not a stop sign.” Lucy leaned forward, peering out the windshield, hoping to spy Smoky beneath the trees. “The pony for sale sign.”

“Oh, is that all?” Veronica leaned back and chuckled. “I thought for a moment we were going to be in a smash-up.”

“I don't see Smoky anywhere,” she said to George. “Do you?”

He shook his head. “Can't say that I do, Lucy.”

“Do you think someone bought him?” she asked in a small voice.

“Maybe Mr. Greenburg changed his mind about selling him,” George suggested.

Lucy just nodded, but deep in the pit of her stomach she didn't think so. No, something told her that Smoky had been sold . . . and taken away.

As a result, she felt less than enthusiastic when she went into the church, where the other children were already up in front getting ready to rehearse. “You're late, Lucy Turnbull,” Mrs. Babcock said, frowning.

“I'm sorry,” Lucy told her as she peeled off her coat and mittens.

“You can't expect to be late and still have a good part in the pageant,” Mrs. Babcock scolded as Lucy went up front to stand with the others. “You asked to be an angel, remember?”

“I really am sorry,” Lucy said contritely.

“Never mind.” Mrs. Babcock loudly clapped her hands. “I need everyone's attention.” She began to instruct them on what they were to do, telling them who was to stand where and when they would come out in front. Lucy tried to pay close attention, but she was distracted by thinking about Smoky. She'd known it was unrealistic to put her hopes on getting a pony for Christmas, but when God had answered her prayers by bringing boarders—and now all the rooms were full—it had seemed like a possibility.

“What's wrong with you?” Helen Krausner asked as the angels were herded to the back of the church to wait for their turn to proceed forward in song. The fact that Helen was playing an angel seemed odd to Lucy. Then again, they were only acting.

Lucy shrugged. “Nothing.”

“You look like you just lost your best friend.” Helen made a catty smile. “Oh, that's right, you already did.”

Lucy frowned at her. “That's not why I'm sad, Helen.”

Helen leaned forward, looking slightly concerned. “What is it then? You can tell me.”

For whatever reason, maybe just to make her stop asking, Lucy decided to tell. “I'm worried that Mr. Greenburg already sold Smoky, the pony . . . and, well, I was hoping to get him for Christmas.” As she said this, she knew how ridiculous she sounded, at least to her own ears, since there was no way Mama could afford a pony. Not that Helen needed to know that. “It was silly, I suppose,” she continued. “But I really did like the pony.”

“That is very interesting.” Helen's eyes twinkled in a mischievous way.

“Why?”

“Because I asked my father to get me that pony for Christmas too.”

Lucy felt horrified. “You did?”

Helen nodded. “I have a feeling that is exactly what's happened. Father went out yesterday morning to see about something, and he was gone for most of the day. My mother was not the least bit pleased about it either.” Her lips curled into a smug smile. “I'm sure that's what he was doing.”

“Girls!” Mrs. Babcock called out. “No talking back there!”

Lucy felt sick inside. It was one thing for Lucy not to become the new owner of Smoky, but it was unbearable to think that someone like Helen was going to have him. Helen didn't even like animals. Lucy remembered the time Helen threw stones at a stray dog. She told everyone that the dog had rabies, but Lucy could tell he was only hungry.

It was time for the angels to march forward singing “Angels We Have Heard on High.” Lucy tried to follow along with the words, but her heart was no longer in it.

Lucy was relieved when practice ended and she could make her way to the front door with her coat and mittens in hand.

“Do not forget,” Mrs. Babcock called out. “I want you all here on time for Saturday's practice at two in the afternoon. We will have costumes here, and it will be a dress rehearsal.”

Lucy nodded and waved, then hurried outside to see that George's yellow roadster was already waiting. She knew she should have enjoyed this moment, being picked up like a princess. She should've taken her time and made sure that Helen Krausner noticed her getting into the fancy car as well as the glamorous Veronica Grant sitting beside her in the front seat. But Lucy felt so downhearted, she didn't even care. As they rode home, she realized she'd completely forgotten to brag about the almost movie star who was staying at their house.

“How did it go?” George asked.

“It was all right,” Lucy said glumly.

“After we dropped you off, I thought maybe I should've come inside,” Veronica told her.

“Why?” Lucy turned to look at her.

“To help with the acting.”

“Oh.” Lucy nodded. “Maybe you can help on Saturday.”

Veronica began to talk about some of the acting she'd done back in St. Louis, and how she couldn't wait to get to Hollywood and try it out again, and on and on and on. Lucy resisted the urge to cover her ears with her hands. Instead, she leaned back into the seat and closed her eyes, trying hard not to think about anything. Unfortunately, all she could think about was that Helen Krausner was going to have her pony!

Lucy got both George and Veronica's word that they would not mention the pony to Mama. “It will only make her feel bad,” Lucy told them as they neared home. “We couldn't afford a pony anyway. And Mama told me she didn't want
me putting my hopes into something that was impossible. No sense in telling her about it now.”

“You can trust me with your secret,” Veronica assured her as George parked in front of the house. She winked like this was a fun game, then hopped out of the car and hurried up to the house, as the snow was coming down hard again.

George helped Lucy out of the car. Once they were on the porch he leaned over, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You know you can trust me too, Lucy. I just hope you're not too terribly disappointed.”

“It's probably for the best,” she told him. “Ponies are for rich people. Mama said it was like wishing for the moon.” Of course, that was not how Lucy felt. But she'd learned long ago . . . maybe when Daddy died . . . that you didn't usually get what you wished for. She should've known better than to wish for a pony.

With more guests in the house, including the dingdong fussbudget and the rather spoiled almost-actress, life became noisier and busier than ever. Lucy didn't mind the extra activity and responsibilities, though, because it took her mind off of Smoky. Before bed, she removed the picture she'd drawn from her wall, tucking it into the bottom of a drawer. If Mama noticed as Lucy said her prayers, she didn't mention it.

As usual, of late anyway, some of the grown-ups stayed up in the front room talking. Sometimes Lucy tried to understand their words, but she was just far enough away that although she could make out who was speaking, she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Tonight it was all four of their guests and Mama. Grandma must have gone to bed already.

After a while the Dorchesters made their way upstairs, leaving just George and Veronica . . . and Mama. Lucy was surprised that Mama was staying up so late, but from the gay sound of their voices, they were enjoying each other's company. Naturally, that made Lucy curious. Despite knowing that Mama would not approve, Lucy sneaked out of bed and down the hallway to where she could hear them plainly.

“I'm sure you'll make a fine movie actress,” Mama was saying. “I honestly hope to see you in our little theater someday.”

“Oh, do go on,” Veronica crooned.

“You're very beautiful,” Mama continued. “My own daughter told my mother that she thinks you're the most beautiful person she's ever laid eyes on.”