Little Girls and Their Ponies Page 3

  “I got the horses settled in some stalls. I paired them up so they wouldn’t be alone.”

  Alice stopped and turned around, cocking her head to the side. “You put two horses in a stall together?”

  “Yeah.” He shifted under her sudden attention. “I think it keeps them calmer, and your stalls are big enough for it. Besides, I would want a friend if I was hurt.” His eyes held hers a moment longer than necessary.

  She motioned to a door down the hall. “There’s the restroom. Take your time.”

  She slipped past him, thinking about how he’d paired the horses. She liked the idea of putting two sick horses in a stall together. It surprised her that he would’ve thought of something so little as that. It made her like him even more.

  Back in the kitchen, she asked her mom, “Do you need any help?”

  Her mom spun around from the counter, where she’d been laying out some rolls on a tray. She’d pulled out the nice plates for the occasion. “Nope! I got it. Just have a seat at the table, and I’ll start bringing everything in.”

  Ten minutes later, a veritable feast was laid out on the antique dining room table. Taking their seats, Alice saw that her mom had put Matthew at the head of table, which seemed a little sad. Her mother’s effort was so apparent that it was embarrassing.

  “This looks amazing, Mrs. Montgomery,” Matthew said, polite as always.

  “Oh, please. Call me Laura.” Her mother flicked out her napkin and smoothed it over her lap. “Okay! Let’s dig in.”

  No prayer. They didn’t do that anymore. Alice waited an awkward beat before she reached for the mashed potatoes.

  “Do you want me to make your plate, Alice?” her mom asked, eyes wide above her huge smile.

  A blush spread up the back of Alice’s neck when Matthew turned to look at her, his gaze falling to her deformed right hand. From her middle finger over to the right, the fingers were missing past her knuckle. Her pinky was just a tiny, useless nub. Twisted skin stretched across her gnarled palm. The muscles had been so fried that they were constantly contracted, making her hand formed into a loose fist.

  “I’m fine,” she said with more bite than she needed to. It took her longer, but she scooped out what she needed with her left hand. Neither her mom nor Matthew asked her to pass any dishes.

  “So, how are the horses doing?” Laura asked, smiling at Matthew like he was a saint instead of an overworked vet.

  He quickly swallowed his bite of meatloaf. “They’re okay. We treated the dehydration at the clinic, but the malnourishment will take longer. Some of them have skin conditions that will take daily treatment. Most have worms and other parasites, which is why they need to be quarantined. That will take longer to treat, but hopefully, with time, they can all make a full recovery.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Laura chirped. She looked at Alice. “Isn’t that wonderful, Alice?”

  “Sure.”

  “Is everything in the barn okay? We haven’t been down there in ages.” Laura raised her eyebrows to emphasize her point as if everyone in the room didn’t already know exactly what she was talking about.

  “It’s perfect,” Matthew said, nodding and smiling at her. He shot a glance over at Alice, but she ignored him. “Everything works great. It’s a really well-built barn.”

  “Yes, Ed did a great job with it.”

  “How is Mr. Montgomery?”

  Laura’s smile turned up ten degrees, her eyes going dull as she lied. “He’s doing great. Just wonderful, actually.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  A fumbling silence spread around the table. A memory from the crash catapulted into Alice’s mind before she could push it away. After all the flipping had stopped and the burning had begun, she hadn’t been able to move her head. But out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her dad’s weather-worn, unmoving hand. A drop of blood had rolled down his index finger and dripped off. He hadn’t answered her calls to him.

  “It really is a beautiful barn,” Matthew said, trying to breathe life back into the conversation.

  “I hope all of Alice’s old stuff isn’t getting in your way. I really need to go down there and sort through all of it. I’m sure most of its junk anyway. Do you need more sweet tea?” Laura lifted the pitcher and refilled Matthew’s glass without waiting for an answer.

  Alice set her fork down, unable to pretend to eat anymore. Matthew looked over at her again, but she just stared at the lace pattern of the tablecloth. It was the nice one, the one they used to only get out for special occasions. She had to hold back a bitter laugh at the thought that Matthew’s visit had become a special occasion for them.

  “It’s all fine, I promise. It’s perfect,” he said, his voice strained.

  “That’s great! More rolls?” Laura passed him the breadbasket, even though he already had two on his plate that he hadn’t eaten. “It’ll be nice to have some horses around now. It’s felt so empty, you know? Since the accident—”

  “Mom, stop,” Alice snapped, glaring at her mom. The fake happiness was intolerable. Her mother talking about Rosie so flippantly was unacceptable, unforgivable.

  “Oh, I…” Her mom fumbled, flushing, and clearly mortified. “I just meant—”

  “Just shut up!” Alice shouted, standing up suddenly. Her hip knocked the table and rattled the drinking glasses.

  The anger was like an entirely different fire burning through her. It was a monster sitting on her sternum and clenching its hand around her throat, cutting off her air until spots danced in her vision. She swayed without her cane, and Matthew jumped up, his arm reaching toward her.

  “I’m fine!” she growled, jerking her arm away.

  Her mom was frozen in shock, a half smile plastered in place like it was all a joke. “Alice, sweetie, I just meant that maybe it’s time to clean out the place,” she said, giggling like she couldn’t decide if she should throw up or burst into laughter.

  “Don’t you dare,” Alice snarled. Her hand found her plate, and she was launching it across the room before she knew what she was doing. Her mom screamed and dove under the table as it shattered against the wall, spraying bits of mashed potatoes and meatloaf around the room. Matthew hadn’t even flinched.

  “Alice,” he said quietly, his arm still outreached.

  “No,” she said, her voice breaking. The tears, her most familiar friends, were back, streaming down her face and ruining her vision. Luckily, she found her cane easily. She ran from the room in a limping, stumbling gait. With enough force to rattle the windows, she slammed her bedroom door and locked it.

  “Rosie,” she whispered, her mouth gaping open and closed as her chest contracted with agonized silent sobs. “Daddy.”

  Her cane slipped from her grip and she fell to her knees. The anger gave way to her great wall of sadness, and Alice let it crash through her like a wrecking ball, destroying her for the second time that day. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she rocked herself, crying without caring who heard her sobs.

  No one came to comfort the monster she’d become.

  Chapter Four

  Alice almost wished her mother had been mad at her for the way she’d acted at dinner. She was a twenty-four-year-old adult after all, and she should be reasonably in control of her emotions. She’d planned on apologizing, but the next day, her mother was her normal over-smiling, bubbling self when she came in with Alice’s breakfast. She didn’t say a word about the previous night or even give Alice the silent treatment. Laura set out the food and gabbed about Alice’s exercises and what a pretty day it was outside.

  The guilt Alice had felt dried up.

  After breakfast, she sat in her chair with Tucker in her lap. Her fingers twined through his hair, massaging his back, when her phone beeped from the bedside table. She was surprised to see who the text was from.

  Matthew: Did any more plates make the ultimate sacrifice?

  Alice stared at her phone for a moment, as if it might morph into a bloody limb or so
mething equally terrifying. Tucker looked up at her, wiggling his back against her hand in an effort to regain her attention. Slowly, she tapped her fingers against the glowing screen’s letters, forming her slight reply.

  Alice: Just the one.

  Matthew: I’m relieved for plate-kind. How are you?

  Alice: Why?

  He didn’t text back after that. Her question might have seemed abrasive to him, Alice realized after the damage was done. She didn’t process things like that anymore, but she thought it was a valid thing to ask. It didn’t seem right that he should be texting her after the scene she’d made last night, and if he was just trying to be nice to the tragic girl, then she would have to set him straight.

  She jumped when her phone started ringing, the shrill sound completely unfamiliar. She swiped at the thing just to stop the terrible racket and ended up answering the call.

  “Uh, hello?” Matthew asked into the silent phone.

  “Hey,” Alice said, suddenly losing all her previous gumption. She cleared her throat.

  “I thought I should call.”

  He was clearly driving somewhere, maybe to her house. The radio played quietly in the background, and there was a rustling sound, possibly caused by the wind coming through his opened window. His voice was muffled, although she could still make out the familiar lilt to it.

  She blinked. What the hell was she thinking? Since when had she noticed his voice?

  “Alice?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I take it you don’t get many calls either?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “You have really shitty friends, you know that?”

  “Clearly.”

  “I’m not a bad friend. Actually, I’m a pretty decent guy who is very capable of maintaining a solid friendship. Like I could win awards for my friendship, if there was such a thing. Literally. I’m that good.”

  Alice stared down at Tucker; he met her gaze, looking disgruntled. “What are you talking about, Matt?”

  “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t question me every time I ask you a friendly question. I genuinely want to make sure you’re okay.”

  She opened her mouth to ask “why” again, but changed her mind. “I just don’t understand.”

  “It’s pretty simple. You’re a good girl, Alice. You deserve a good friend.”

  She liked the way he said her name. It sounded familiar and comforting, like old barn doors rolling open on a dewy morning. Or ripping into a new bag of sweet grain. Or smelling warm leather. She shook her head, reprimanding herself. “I’m okay. Mom’s okay. Everything is okay.”

  “You say ‘okay’ a lot.”

  She heard the clicking chime of his blinker through the phone at the same time that Tucker perked up in her lap. He jumped down and scuttled into the hall, his toenails scratching along the hardwood. “Did you just turn into my driveway?”

  “You’re good. I’m impressed. You might be able to win an award for that skill too.”

  “I heard your blinker.”

  Matthew sighed in mock disapproval. “That’s not nearly as impressive. Do you want to help me with the horses today?”

  “No.” The smile caused by their banter slipped off her face. “I’ve got to go. Physical therapy stuff.”

  She ended the call before he responded. But when she heard the crunch of gravel, she walked over to her window and peeked around the edge of her curtain. Matthew unfolded his long body from the truck and got out, tugging on the brim of his hat like he did so often. As if he knew she was watching, he threw up his hand in a wave before heading down to the barn.

  * * *

  A week passed. Apparently, Laura was too scared to ask Matthew over for dinner again, which was fine with Alice. Every day after his random call, he’d texted her, asking how she was or what she was doing. He always asked if she wanted to help down at the barn. She always said no.

  She’d grown accustomed to talking with him, to expecting his text. Even scarier was that she was starting to enjoy it, which felt dangerous to her. He didn’t understand what he was doing to her by being so nice. After the accident, she’d thought that part of her life was over: the part where her stomach flipped when she heard his truck outside or when her phone chimed with his text. Especially the part where she wanted to walk outside and help him with the horses.

  So she kept her distance and stayed inside. Though she texted him back, she kept to her short replies. The briefer her response, the more she felt that she wasn’t losing her tight-fisted control. Losing that meant she’d let herself admit she liked him, as in liked him.

  And, in the end, that would only be heartbreaking for her. Another crack, another fissure, was unbearable. If her heart was a paper thing that she could pull out and hold up against the sun, it would look like one of those misshapen cutouts young kids make at Christmastime for decoration. It would be more hole than heart. Any more hurt and she would just be a forgotten, moldy ornament that was too fragile to hang on the tree.

  Another week wore on, and she remained in her room, watching her shows and petting Tucker and lifting her pathetic weights. More and more often, Alice wandered over to her window, parting the curtains and peering through, even when Matthew wasn’t working without his shirt on.

  She was looking at the horses.

  She felt pulled to them by some part of her soul. She’d always felt that way around horses, drawn to them, as if she wanted to hear their thoughts.

  Almost instantly, she found the smaller palomino mare with a large white blaze who always caught Alice’s attention. The horse stood amongst her misbegotten herd with her head lifted high, her nostrils flaring wide as she smelled the air. She looked like a battle-worn warrior with her mottled hair and skinny frame, but she still watched out for the others, constantly searching the field for signs of a threat. Only when she was certain of the momentary safety would she lower her head and take a quick bite of grass. Once, Alice had seen the mare bolt, taking off down the fence line. Her little body was agile and faster than Alice would have ever imagined. She pictured the mare with muscle and weight packed onto her bones and imagined how her yellow coat would shine with enough attention and care.

  Alice wanted to ask Matthew about the mare, but she didn’t. Instead, she reminded herself that Rosie had been the color of warm, dripping chocolate with tall white markings on her legs. She’d been perfect and beautiful and everything Alice had ever dreamed of. Alice didn’t deserve to comfort herself with another horse.

  So she could be short with Matthew and keep her control, but when it came to the mare, she had a harder time keeping her distance. Beneath the broken, sad parts of her, she longed to go outside and pet the horse. She wanted to feel the mare’s hair beneath her hand, smell her scent. Once again, she was that little girl longing to love her sweet pony.

  Even when she wasn’t standing at the window, the vision of the palomino mare racing down the field kept popping into Alice’s mind, and she was powerless to stop it.

  At the end of the week, the urge to keep looking outside overwhelmed her. She slipped on her flip-flops and walked softly through the house, careful not to alert her mother, not wanting to answer any questions. Matthew hadn’t come by yet to bring the horses in for their evening feed and medications, so they were still milling about in the field when Alice opened the front door.

  Immediately, the palomino mare lifted her head, her dark eyes on Alice as she picked her way down the steps and over the driveway. This time, she was careful not to tangle her cane in the grass, but her effort was wasted. The grass and weeds were cut close, the smell fresh and green. She frowned. Matthew had been mowing the grass.

  She hooked her cane onto a board and leaned against the fence. The mare watched Alice while the others ignored her. In their hunger, they focused only on the grass and bits of rich alfalfa hay leftover from the morning.

  A breeze lifted, bringing the scent of the horses—a sweet, salty mixture of grass and dirt that
Alice loved—straight to her. Her throat tightened. She remembered Rosie’s smell; she had her own unique one. Before the accident, Alice had sworn that she would be able to pick out Rosie from a lineup of horses just by her smell alone. It was the best perfume in the world.

  Alice had to look away, stepping back from the fence. The mare didn’t move, though. Her muscles twitched as bugs landed on her, but she didn’t budge. Alice turned to go after sneaking another quick glance.

  She jumped in surprise when she looked up. “Geez, Mom. You scared me,” she said, stumbling back slightly.

  “Oh! Sorry, sweetie.” Laura smiled apologetically. “I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

  She stood in the middle of the drive, holding a large wooden spoon that dripped with pasta sauce. Her apron was askew, her hair tied into a messy bun. She looked exhausted.

  Alice nodded, setting the end of her cane deep into the gravel to leverage herself out of the slight ditch beside the field. “Okay.”

  “Do you want to go pet them?” Her mom asked, her brittle smile scarily wide, close to the point of shattering. “I can hold the gate for you.”

  “No.” Alice passed her mom, but Laura kept pace beside her easily.

  “Are you sure? Or I could hold one for you to brush. I know Matt said they needed lots of brushing. Would you like to do that, sweetie?”

  “No.” Alice gritted her teeth, hurrying up the steps. Over her shoulder came the sound of a truck rattling down the bumpy drive.

  “There’s Matthew!” Her mom stood at the bottom of the stairs, pointing down the drive as if Alice was deaf and blind too. “Maybe you could help him?”

  Alice whirled around just as Matthew pulled up in front of the house. “Leave it alone! Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? I don’t want to pet them or brush them or help Matt. Just leave it alone! Leave me alone!”