Chapter 22: Pass At Your Own Risk

 

Claire’s eyes are puffy and red when I come in for a late breakfast the next morning. The smell of burnt toast and bacon scorches the air.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Mom refuses to come out of the bedroom and I can’t cook. I can’t do anything. I’ll make a terrible wife.” Tears race down her face.

“You can learn. Besides, until you do, David can teach you. He’s a good cook. Where’s everybody?”

“They ate cereal and fruit and left.”

I sit beside her. “I’m sorry you had to learn about your birth mother now.”

“I’m not. It’s a relief to know something. The empty hole inside isn’t so big anymore.”

“Strange, huh? I finally opened one of my mom’s trunks and found a diary she wrote to me. It makes everything different.”

Claire wipes her tears and smiles. “I’m so glad. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to talk with Dad first. Besides, I’m starving.” Dragging out more bacon,

eggs and bread I ask, “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Watch and learn.” I get two clean frying pans, turn on the oven and throw bacon in one.

“What were you doing before you met David?” I ask.

“Taking a few classes at the university.”

“What was your major?”

“I didn’t really have one. Mom wanted me to be something other than a wife and mother. I was taking classes to please her.”

Putting oil in the other pan, I crack the eggs into it and flip the bacon. “Are you interested in anything?”

“I love math. I’m kind of a whiz and can do calculations in my head.”

“That’s cool.”

She smiles slightly. “What good is it?”

“You could take a business course and help David. Being great at math can open doors to lots of exciting careers.”

Claire says, “I could, couldn’t I? I’m so used to having everything done for me, I never considered being useful.”

“Did you think David was going to do everything for you?”

Claire smiles. “When you’re in love, you don’t think about anything else.”

“Better watch out. You don’t want to be another dumb blond.”

She laughs and we eat.

I barely see anyone except Daria lurking around for the rest of the day, so I finish washing the windows. I’m so sore from all the extra chores, it seems like I’m moving in slow motion.

Weasel has Claire doing more errands, even though she doesn’t come out of the bedroom. John studies for exams and Mr. Dudley spends most of the day on the phone.

Doing dishes after a dinner of sandwiches, I hear Mr. Dudley’s voice boom from the living room. “Daria, be quiet. I have to take this call. You will have to wait.”

She whines, “You never keep promises.”

“Go away.”

I hear her slam out the front door. Then the door slams again.

Daria skips into the kitchen. “There’s a horse trailer outside.”

“Dad!” I drop everything and run. Daria beats me to the front door and bars the way, pouting.

“Move, Daria.”

She opens the door slowly and goes out first. I want to push her aside, but restrain myself.

Dad jumps out of the horse trailer and waves. His smile is so big it could eat you up. Scott follows him, whistling. I can’t believe how much I missed that.

“Hey, Dad! Scott!” I wave in excitement. Rushing forward, I trip and fall headfirst toward the steps. I catch the railing with one hand, slip and hit my cheekbone on the top step. Blood spurts everywhere. I grab my cheek, knowing from experience how much head wounds bleed. I think of Mom and am thankful that I don’t have the disease she carried.

“Winifred! My God!” Dad and Scott come running. Dad picks me up. Scott’s expression looks like thunder as he snatches open the door.

Daria’s face is white, her eyes terrified. She sees my bloody shirt, screams and faints.

Weasel comes running from the bedroom. “Daria!” She scoops up her daughter. “Otis, Otis, get off the phone!”

Dad carries me into the bathroom. It’s a relief to get away from them for a few minutes.

I hug Dad with one arm. “I’m so glad you’re home! Tell me everything.”

“Let’s get you fixed up first.”

My cheek throbs. I’m afraid to move my bloody hand and look in the mirror.

Dad sits me on the sink, gets a washrag and turns on the water. “Come on, Win. Move your hand.”

“I’m afraid to.”

“I’ll hold pressure on it.”

Dad turns me away from the mirror. He washes the wound, but I can tell he’s worried. I hold still and try not to cry. Finally he says, “Hand me the aloe vera.”

I do as I’m told. I turn to see my face.

“Don’t move. I want to get the bandage on to stop the bleeding.” He gently dabs on the aloe.

“Ooohh, it stings!”

“It’ll only last a minute.” He puts on a butterfly bandage. “We need to call Doc Waverly. He might want to put in stitches.”

“How big is it?”

“Little over an inch.”

“I don’t want stitches in my face for the wedding,” I moan.

“How did you fall?”

I shrug. “You know me.”

I want to tell him everything that has happened and talk to him about Mom. Suddenly, I realize it can wait two more days when we can be alone.

Dad looks me over from head to foot. “You look different.”

“You haven’t seen me for two weeks.”

“You’ve lost weight. Have you been eating?” Dad kisses me on the forehead.

“When I have time.”

“I missed you,” Dad says.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

“Not on your life.”

“Can I see the stallion?” I ask.

“You’re a mess. You need to change your clothes. I’ll get some from the attic.”

“No! Er, I don’t want to wait another minute to see the horse. I have clean clothes in the laundry room that I haven’t taken upstairs yet.”

I slide off the counter, a little dizzy.

“Stay here.”

He returns with a clean shirt. “Thanks, Dad.” I smile. Ouch. Smiling is not good.

We walk through the hall. My legs are shaky so I grab Dad’s arm. We pass the

living room. Daria’s parents fuss over her. I’ve never seen her look so happy. Claire drops Daria’s hand and rushes up to me.

“Winifred, are you all right?”

“I will be.” I don’t tell her about my wobbly knees.

Dad leads me to the front porch. “Sit down, Win. I’ll bring out the stallion.” He hurries to the trailer.

Scott follows us out and whispers in my ear, “Daria deliberately tripped you.”

“What?” I melt when I stare up into his face. He looks even better than I remember. My heart does gymnastics inside my chest.

“Please, don’t say anything.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to spoil this moment. We’ve worked very hard and saved a long time to be able to buy this horse.”

Dad opens the trailer’s back doors and disappears inside. He walks out proudly, leading the stallion. The horse takes my breath away. He’s the most beautiful bay I have ever seen, shiny brown with a black mane, tail and stockings. A white diamond shines on his forehead. He snorts and tosses his long mane, feet prancing. His muscles ripple in the dusk.

“He’s magnificent! What’s his name?” I ask.

“Romero.”

I laugh and wince. “It suits him.”

Mr. Dudley comes onto the porch. “Handsome animal, Charles. Come in and tell us about your trip.”

“I’ll be in after I stable the horse.” He leads Romero around the corner.

I sigh with happiness. Our Paso Fino stock is going to be fantastic.

When I stand up, my cheek pounds and my eyes blur.

Scott grabs my arm. “Easy there. Let me help you.”

“I need a drink of water,” I whisper.

He puts his arm around my shoulder and we slowly walk into the kitchen. Warmth radiates from his body. I like this boy thing.

Scott gets me a drink. His brown eyes bore into mine and warm waves sweep up and down my spine. “What’s been going on?” You look terrible,” he says.

“Just what a girl wants to hear.”

“Tell me.”

So I do. Except about Fairy Godmonster.

“You need to tell your father.”

“What good would it do?”

Scott says, “I don’t know. It’s kind of awkward with them being David’s new in-laws.”

“I’m trying to be mature about this. I don’t want to worry Dad. I can muddle through two more days. It’ll be busy tomorrow. The wedding people will be swarming all over to set up.”

“I’m going to keep my eye on the brat. And I’ll help you as much as possible,” says Scott.

“Thanks.” I wish I could tell him how good he looks.

Dad comes in the back door with David and John. David is so excited he can hardly

get his words out fast enough.

“Wait until you see it!” he exclaims. “It’s my best work. I could never have done it without John.”

John laughs. “His brain, my brawn.”

David sees my face and strides over to me. “What did you do now?”

Those are David’s famous words. I was a clumsy child, my mind faster than my feet. He always fixed me up.

“Tripped. When do we get to see the garden?”

“Let’s get the rest of the family so I can show you together.” He practically runs into the living room.

The Dudley’s meet us in the kitchen.

Dad looks around. “I’ve never seen this house look so good, Erminia.”

“I’ve done my best,” she says.

Claire stares at her mother in shock. “Winifred is responsible for how the house looks, Mr. Smith. She’s done it all.”

Weasel sniffs, “She’s been very helpful.”

“My Win did all this?” Dad asks. He looks at me. Pride shines in his eyes. Warmth spreads through my whole body. I feel so good. It’s worth all the hard work and sore muscles.

David pulls on Claire’s hand. “Come on!”

We follow them out the back door. All the barricades around the garden are down.

David says, “Please don’t talk until you have seen everything. I want you to experience it.”

I stop, unable to breathe. Thousands and thousands of tiny white lights nestle in the trees, plants and flowers. Like all the stars fell out of the sky and landed in the garden. Magic. I swallow hard. Oh, Mom, I think. It’s like heaven.

Instead of being bunched together, the benches are scattered separately among the trees and shrubs. They look like they have been there for years. I can’t even see them all.

David leads us down a curving path of moss that has white, star-shaped flowers. I walk on the delicate blossoms and they squish into the moss unhurt. The path leads to one bench, then around to the next and the next. It continues to wind around the benches until it comes to an end.

I stare in awe. In front of the white lilac tree under my attic window, is a heart made of twisted vines and stems. Tall, wide and about five feet deep, it rises from the grass like it’s growing out of the ground. On each side are plants in different heights, all with white blooms and real-looking white birds.

Claire whispers, “Oh, David, it’s perfect.”

Dad pats David on the back. “Beautiful. Well done, Son.” Dad shakes hands with John. “Terrific job, young man. If you ever decide you don’t want to be a lawyer, I’m sure David will hire you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Smith.”

“Win, come and stand under the heart.” David grabs my hand and leads me inside. He turns me around.

I can’t believe what I see. Every bench in the garden has a view of the heart, yet they don’t distract from the garden itself.

“How did you do it?”

David laughs. “Inspiration and hard work.”

“Come look, Claire,” I say.

Claire turns and sighs. She touches David’s cheek with her hand. “Thank you, David.”

I look at Weasel. I know she’s trying hard to find something to complain about. She says, “You will have to be careful, Claire, walking in heels on this moss.”

Mr. Dudley shakes David’s hand. “Fantastic job.” He kisses Claire on the head. “You are a very lucky girl.”

Daria is quiet for once.

I hug David. “You made the garden even better.”

“Thanks, Win,” he says hugging me back.

My cheek throbs. “I need to go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”

Dad says, “Sure you don’t want to see the doctor?”

“I’m fine. As much as I’d like to hear about your trip, I think I’d better get some sleep.”

Scott says, “I’ll help you upstairs.”

I smile at him. “Thanks.”

We reach the upstairs hall and I stick a hand in my pocket. No key. Whoa. Fairy Godmonster will have to let me in the attic. I can’t let Scott know about her.

“You don’t have to walk me to my door. It’s not like a date or anything.”

He smiles.

I lock my knees so I don’t fall down. My words come out in a croak. “You need to unload your stuff from the trailer. Dad could use your help.”

“You sure?”

“Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.” He whistles as he leaves.

I can’t wait to talk to Jac about Scott when she gets home tomorrow night.

Knocking on the attic door, I wonder how Fairy Godmonster is going to unlock it. I hear the click five minutes later.

“CRIPES! I knew I wasn’t eating enough red meat,” she groans. She examines one claw. It’s missing the sharp point.

“Does it hurt?”

“Of course not.” She looks up. “What happened to your face?”

I go to the mirror and peel up the bandage. I gasp when I see the cut. I hold in the tears.

“Who did this to you!” Fairy Godmonster’s eyes flash black.

I’m glad she’s on my side. I tell her everything.

“That child and her mother will regret their actions before I leave here.”

“I’m really worried about the key,” I say. “No one can come in here and see the hot tub or you. What am I going to do?”

Fairy Godmonster glares at the whip lying on the bed. “Wretched thing.” Her eyes glow purple. “How about a trap?”

I laugh, even if it hurts my face.

How did I know what horror was to follow?