The Healing Touch, Page 3

  Chapter 3

  Saint Albert gazed down at Rusty from the security of Tory’s arms and seemed rather unimpressed. Rusty looked at Grandma Nan as if to question whether or not she had approved of the feline intruder.

  “It’s okay Rusty. Saint Albert is family now,” Grandma Nan answered, as she knelt to scratch Rusty’s ear, making eye contact with him as she spoke.

  “Rusty, meet Saint Albert. Saint Albert, meet Rusty. Now the two of you can just work things out,” Grandma Nan said.

  And that seemed to be the beginning and the end of both the introductions and any further discussion on the topic. Rusty headed for his bed, either to guard it or play with a squeaky ball depending on Saint Albert’s reaction. Saint Albert, much too dignified for any squeaky toy, headed for the food bowls to check out the menu.

  “All right then,”said Grandma Nan. “Follow me up to your bedrooms.” And without even a glance back, Grandmas Nan started hauling suitcases up the old stairway.

  They had barely retrieved all the suitcases and boxes from the truck and deposited them in their new spacious bedrooms when Tory’s Dad said he thought he’d go check out the fire-hall.

  “Mind if I borrow your old truck, Nan,” he asked? “Maybe I can swing by Happy Harold’s and see if he’s got an old beater car I can pick up for a good price.” He didn’t even look at Tory, let alone ask if she wanted to go with him.

  Grandma Nan squeezed her lips together in a thin line that Tory decided probably meant she didn’t really approve, but she said, “Do what you have to do. Tory and I will check on the horses.”

  Tory didn’t know a thing about horses and wasn’t even so sure she liked them but Grandma Nan didn’t seem to take “no” for an answer. Tory felt like she was in a daze of unreality as she watched her father practically bounce out the front door and down the steps towards the truck. He didn’t seem the least bit affected by the flight, the jet lag, or the total change of their entire universe. Grandma’s Nan voice was the only part of the whole scene that seemed to separate dream from real life.

  “Change into some barn clothes and I’ll meet you out there,” Grandma Nan said.

  Tory sat on her “new” antique bed and looked at the dark pink, almost rose colored velvet drapes and the pale pink walls. She flopped on her back on the bed with her eyes closed to keep from crying. When she opened them, stars and a moon glowed above her, and for a moment she thought she was back home, looking at the ceiling her mother had created for her when she was a baby. Despite multiple room decorations, Tory had always kept the ceiling the same. She remembered her mother telling her she had fought with Grandma Nan to have the same thing on her ceiling as a girl. She said Grandma Nan had said it was silly to put them on your ceiling when you could just go outside and see them but then she helped her put them up. Tory wondered what else her mother had done with Grandma Nan. Certainly her mother never would have painted her bedroom pink. Tory figured she would likely have picked green or maybe blue, almost anything but pink. Tory had a brief vision of Grandma Nan painting the walls pink. The vision was blurry but Tory thought Grandma Nan was crying while she painted. Tory shifted her focus to clear the vision and noticed a picture in an old fashioned, heavy pewter frame sitting on the pine dresser top. It was a close-up of Tory’s mother’s face as she held a tiny baby that must have been Tory shortly after she was born. Their cheeks almost touched as mother and babe seemed to gaze at each other with equal love and amazement. Her mother was smiling at Tory as though she were the most perfect baby in the whole world. Tory picked up the picture and traced her mother’s face with her finger. Out of nowhere, Saint Albert leaped to the top of the dresser and meowed as he twitched his tail in Tory’s face. Tory swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “I’m going to stop crying Saint Albert. I’ve got horses to meet.”

  Tory turned to her suitcase and in a moment of panic wondered what in the heck “barn clothes” were anyway. She pulled out a pair of designer jeans and a white T-shirt. At least if she didn’t know anything about horses she was going to look good. She tied her long black hair into a ponytail with a white scrunchie, tugged on a battered old pair of runners, took a deep breath, and headed out to meet Grandma Nan. Saint Albert curled up in her suitcase so he could shed hairs all over her clothes.

  When she cautiously peeked through the big open door of the barn, Tory could see shadows and hear Grandma Nan cooing to someone. The “someone” started stamping his feet and nickering when he saw Tory.

  “Oh there you are,” said Grandma Nan. “Is everything okay with your room? It used to be your mother’s you know except back then it wasn’t pink.”

  “I love it, thanks,” Tory said and smiled to prevent the tears.

  Grandma Nan seemed to take a deep breath. Then she looked Tory over, lifting an eyebrow at the white T-shirt and immaculate jeans. “I guess it was kind of hard to find barn clothes before you got properly unpacked,” she said. “Never mind, the horses won’t care what you look like, and I guess everything will wash.”

  Tory, imagining Grandma Nan throwing her jeans in the dryer and shrinking them five inches said, “I’m used to doing the laundry.” She stumbled behind Grandma Nan as she marched through the barn, checking stalls and occupants along the way.

  “Let go see who’s in the arena,” Grandma Nan said as Tory followed her down a little hallway that opened into a big open space that Tory could imagine might have been an ice arena except the floor was covered with sandy dirt rather than ice. The building was shaped in an oval like an arena. Huge lights hung from the ceiling and shone irregular light through the dust. At points along the walls, letters were hung on white poster board. The letters didn’t make any sense to Tory as they didn’t seem to be in any particular order or arrangement. Horse jumps were set up at one end and at the opposite end, a woman was holding the end of a long rope in one hand, a long whip in the other. Attached to the end of the rope, and circling around her at a trot, was a grey horse. Every once in a while the horse would slow down and the woman would raise the whip a bit, say “walk on” , or make a clicking sound and the horse would speed up.

  “That’s good Isabella, the woman was saying, Easy Isabella, good girl.”

  When the woman saw Grandma Nan and Tory she, slowed the horse to a walk, and then a stop.

  “Hi there, I’ll be right with you.” She set the whip down on the ground and slowly approached the horse gathering rope in her hand as she moved in closer. The horse watched her every move, pinned one ear back and shied away from her at first. The woman placed one hand on the horse’s neck and reached into her pocket with the other. When she pulled her hand out of her pocket the horse started to nuzzle the woman’s flattened palm, enjoying the treat reward. Both woman and horse seemed to match their stride as they started walking towards Tory and Grandma Nan.

  “Hi there,” said the woman. “And you must be Tory.” She rubbed her free hand on her thigh to clean off the crumbs and horse slobber before reaching out to shake Tory’s hand. “Welcome to Meadowlands,” she said. “It will be great to have some more help around here.”

  “Tory, this is Clara,” said Grandma Nan. “She’s my foreman and trainer and riding instructor and veterinarian.”

  “What she means by that i;, the only help she’s got!” snickered Clara.

  On closer inspection, Clara was quite beautiful in a wholesome, milk and cookies, kind of way. Her hair was tucked into a baseball cap but blond curls were poking out all over. A pony tail was sticking out of the back of the cap and the curl cascaded to her shoulders. Clara was tiny but her arms were huge and looked like Tory’s fathers’ after he had just been working out. She looked very fit in tight beige riding pants, a dirty green T-shirt and high black boots.

  “I’ve just been lunging Isabella,” she said. “I think I’ll soon be able to get a saddle on her back. Just let me put her away and you can help me with the new arrival,” she said. “He’ll be here any minute. ”

  Grandma Na
n and Clara walked Isabella down the isle to the row of stalls. Isabella seemed to know where she was going and appeared anxious to get there. A few times Clara yanked a bit on the halter and told her to slow down.

  “So what types of horses have you ridden Tory,” Clara asked? She turned her head to try and find Tory who was following at a very safe distance from Isabella’s huge feet.

  “Umm, I think I rode a pony once at a birthday party until I cried so hard my mother pulled me off,” Tory mumbled as she felt her cheeks turn warm. It didn’t occur to her to be embarrassed by that until it came out of her mouth. She realized she was surrounded by women that obviously felt very comfortable around everything horsey and she was surprised to discover she might want to fit in.

  “Oh,” said Clara as she glanced at Grandma Nan in surprise. “Never mind then, we’ll start you off with Firefly. Everyone loves her; she’s very gentle and eager to please.”

  Tory really wasn’t sure she wanted to be “started off” on anything and was about to say so when all of a sudden Old Rusty started barking and Isabella’s ears pricked up. Horses all over started neighing. Clara quickly led Isabella to her stall and unhooked the lead rope from the halter. Isabella seemed to have already forgotten what she might have heard as she buried her nose in a bucket hanging on the stall wall. She banged around in the bucket a bit, then lifted her head still munching while oats dripped from her lips. Every muscle in her seemed to tense as she watched Clara close the stall door and slide the bolt across securing it.

  “Don’t worry girl, no one’s going to take your food away,” Grandma Nan said. “There’s always more where that came from. Poor girl, your whole world keeps changing doesn’t it? Don’t be scared, everything’s going to be okay.”

  Isabella must have decided Grandma Nan was true to her word because she relaxed a bit and turned back to her food bucket. Tory wondered if Grandma Nan’s words were more for her than for Isabella. Tory stood frozen in place as a huge truck and horse trailer started backing up to the barn door. Tory could hear something big thumping around inside and Tory wished she had Isabella’s faith and trust.