Season of Change (12 page)

T
he late afternoon sun was skimming the tops of the trees, low in the sky, as Diana and I raced down the road to the place she had first found Star. Our flip flops made loud smacks on the asphalt as we ran.

“It was near a pine tree missing some bark on the trunk, right by the edge of the woods,” Diana said, out of breath. “Right around here.” She angled into the woods, ducking under some branches and knocking others aside. I followed her, the sharp pine smell
enveloping me. “She was kind of underneath a bush, where you couldn’t see her.”

We crashed through the underbrush, bending down and searching low under every bush we saw. I was peeking under some low-hanging branches when Mama’s ring tone sounded on my phone. My heart started pounding, but I didn’t pick up. She had left me and gone to Asheville. She could just worry.

The ringtone stopped.

“Wasn’t that your phone?” Diana said from a few yards away. “Why didn’t you answer it?”

“It’s Mama. I don’t feel like talking to her right now.”

Diana wound around a few pine trees, searching. “Seems like you’re pretty mad at her.”

I didn’t answer. I just wandered a bit deeper into the woods. “Do you think we’re getting too far away from where you found Star?”

Diana stopped and looked back out at the road. “Maybe. Let’s head that way.”

We headed back toward the tree missing the bark, slowly, and began to make concentric circles to try to make sure we’d covered all the ground.

“Your mom isn’t going to change,” Diana said. Our feet made silky hushing sounds as we rambled through the pine needles. “You’re always giving me such a hard time about not forgiving people. But it seems like you can’t forgive your mom.”

Diana’s words echoed in my head as I continued on the search. Thinking about what had happened with Mama, my blood pounded in my temples. I realized how mad I still was. But when would I learn? That was just the way Mama was.

Maybe Diana was right. Maybe she wasn’t going to change. Maybe I needed to follow the advice I was always giving Diana about forgiving people. Maybe I needed to forgive Mama. I drew a deep breath. I’d call her back tonight.

Finally, after twenty minutes of searching, Diana threw up her hands. “Well, I give up. It was a good idea, anyway, Steph.”

“Okay.” I followed her winding route toward the edge of the woods, scanning the ground. Diana was already standing in the open when I decided to look under one last small bush beside a rotting tree trunk.

And there, rising to its feet, was a tiny fawn even smaller than Star. With a gasp, I knelt, pulling back stray branches.

Its deep brown eyes looked at me searchingly. Its pear-shaped ears pricked anxiously in my direction.

I jumped to my feet. “Diana! Come here!”

I knelt again, examining the fawn. It held one of its hind legs off the ground, not putting weight on it.

Diana was beside me, staring. “Stephanie, you were right! Oh, my gosh, she’s probably starving.”

“And there’s something wrong with her leg.”

“Maybe.” Without hesitating, Diana reached under the branches and gently pulled the fawn out. It struggled, crying weakly. Diana clasped the little body to her chest, with the legs hanging down. “Come on!” She ran toward the house.

I followed. I couldn’t believe we had found another fawn!

We pounded through the yard and up onto the porch.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Diana yelled. I opened the door and we burst into the kitchen.

Grandma came into the kitchen. “Oh, goodness! Not another one!”

Grandpa came from the back bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“Get a bottle ready, Stephanie!” Diana said. “Hurry!”

My hands shook as I poured the goat’s milk into one of the bottles that Grandma had just rinsed, put it into the microwave, and turned it on.

Grandma grabbed blankets and towels from the laundry room, lay them on the floor of the sun porch, and Diana gently laid the fawn on them. The fawn scrambled to its feet, bleating softly, standing unevenly on three legs.

“She’s starving!” Diana said.

“Well, we know what to do this time around,” Grandpa said.

I brought the bottle out on the sun porch, shaking it to mix it.

“Can I try?” I said. “Since I found her?”

Diana nodded. “Okay.” And then she started giving me all kinds of instructions.

“Okay, okay!” I tried letting the milk drip on her nose, and pushing the nipple between the fawn’s lips. Her little round black nose sniffed at me and at the goat’s milk.

“We need to call Kirsten again before she gets too far down the road,” Grandpa said. “She’ll need to come back.”

“Okay,” Diana said.

I kept trying to feed her while Diana tapped in the number she’d left on the pad on the counter. She got Kirsten right away.

“We found another one! We have her here on the sun porch. But she’s only putting weight on three legs. There’s definitely something wrong.” Diana listened, then scribbled something down. She hung up. “Kirsten says the leg might be broken. She says she’ll meet us at the vet’s office. She gave me the address.”

Suddenly, the fawn started to suck on the nipple voraciously.

“She’s got it! She’s got it!” She suckled eagerly and loudly, making loud gasping sounds.

“Look at that poor little thing,” said Grandma.

“She’s so beautiful. What should we name her?” Diana asked.

“What about Clover?” I said.

“I like that,” said Grandma.

“Well, we better get her over to the vet’s office,” Grandpa said. “Somebody will need to hold her in their lap.”

Grandpa drove with Grandma in the front seat, Diana and me in the back, and Clover on Diana’s lap on a towel. Diana kept her arms wrapped around her. Clover struggled occasionally, but her injured leg prevented her from moving too much.

Twenty minutes later we pulled into the gravel parking lot of the emergency veterinary clinic, which was a double-wide trailer. Kirsten was already there, with Star still in the dog carrier in her truck. She came up to our car window, and leaned in.

“There’s a new vet here today that I’ve never worked with before, but he seems very good. He said to bring the fawn right in. Want me to carry her?”

“Since I found her, can I?” I asked.

“Sure.”

I ran around the side of the car and wrapped my arms around Clover’s little body, hugging her close the way I’d seen Kirsten do with Star.

“Maa!” As I held her in the waiting room, I could feel her heart beating next to mine. She struggled a little. Her ears, twitching back and forth, tickled my chin.

The vet, with graying dark hair and kind eyes behind glasses, hurried out, wearing blue scrubs. “Hey, I’m Dr. Miller. Come on back and let’s take a look.”

We all went into the exam room, and Dr. Miller directed me to place Clover on the metal exam table. I put her down, and her little hooves slid on the slippery metal. With gentle hands, Dr. Miller examined Clover, who winced and kicked when he touched the swollen area on her leg. “It feels like it might be a break. We’ll need to get some x-rays to find out for sure.” He suggested we take a seat out in the waiting room for a few minutes.

When he called us back into the exam room a few minutes later, Dr. Miller pointed to the x-rays hanging up on a light screen. “It’s definitely broken.” Dr. Miller traced the ghostly image of Clover’s bone with his pen. “Can you see the fracture there? It’ll have to be set. What I’d like to do is start an IV and get the fawn stabilized, and then I’ll do surgery later today or tomorrow.” He adjusted his glasses, looking at Kirsten.

“That would be great,” Kirsten said, with a shy smile. “Thank you so much. Not many vets would be willing to work on a fawn.”

“Well, a broken bone is a broken bone, and I enjoy
orthopedic surgery,” said Dr. Miller. “And then you can come pick her up in a couple of days, if she’s doing well.”

“Perfect,” Kirsten said, her smile broadening.

“Our staff will love having a fawn here,” Dr. Miller said. “That doesn’t happen too often. This little girl is lucky you kids found her. Good work!”

Diana poked me in the arm, and I felt myself blush.

The technician came to take Clover.

“Wait. Will we see her again?” I asked. We had only had her for a little while. How could I have developed such affection in such a short time?

Kirsten shook her head. “No, so sorry. I’ll pick her up once the surgery is done and take her to rehabilitate her at my place. Remember, you’re not allowed to visit. I can call you with updates.”

So, once again, Diana and I said our good-byes.

“Bye, little girl,” Diana said, stroking her head. “They’re going to make you all well.” We each gave Clover a kiss on the top of the head. Then the technician took Clover from us.

“Maa!” she bleated, as she was carried out of the room.

The four of us were quiet part of the way home.

“Star and Clover will be taken care of and eventually be reintroduced to the wild,” Grandma said.

“When can we call to check on them?” Diana asked.

“Maybe tomorrow afternoon?” Grandpa said.

Once we arrived back at Grandma and Grandpa’s cottage, Mama’s ring tone started up on my phone again. Diana gave me a pointed look.

“You should answer it.”

I tightened my lips and nodded. A prickly feeling ran up my spine. I walked through the grassy back yard and down to the dock so I could have privacy.

“Hi, Mama.”

Shadows stretched over the graying planks and the dock rocked up and down. While the father goose swam in alert semi-circles around the dock, the mother goose rearranged herself in the nest, touching her bill to each of the fluffy goslings as they quietly cheeped around her.

“Hi, sugar. How are you doing? I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Really?” I caught my breath, then closed my eyes and shook my head. I wasn’t going to let myself be taken in.

“Did everything go all right with you and Matt last night?”

I considered what to tell her. I started to say everything had been fine, but then I changed my mind. “I need to talk to you about that.”

“Oh, well, okay, we can talk when I get home, sugar.
Barry and I had such a lovely time. I got here in time to go to a place where we did some dancing. It meant a lot to him for me to come, I think.”

My heart beat hard a few times. I remembered Diana telling me to forgive Mama. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”

“Thanks for understanding, sugar.”

“Sure. No problem.” I looked out over the surface of the water, where the sunlight seemed to glitter. The baby geese cheeped.

“So, I’ll be home later tonight. Will you still be at the house when I get back?”

“No, Daddy and Lynn are going to pick me up this afternoon.”

Mama hesitated. “Well, all right. I understand. I’ll miss seeing you tonight!”

“Me, too. And we have to talk … next week when I see you.”

I hung up. I watched the baby geese, thinking about how hard they’d had to work to crack out of those shells.

S
tephanie and I were packed and ready to go, hanging out on the dock with Grandma and Grandpa, waiting for Mom and Norm. Stephanie had been quiet since she talked to her mom, but I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about it.

Grandpa’s arm was around Grandma, and we were watching the baby geese.

“Look at them jockeying for position,” Grandma said.

The goslings jostled the mother and each other as
they tumbled around the nest. The warmth of the afternoon sun made me feel so lazy that when one of the goslings climbed over the feathery curve of the nest and waddled around on the boat cover, I didn’t move from where I was stretched out on the dock. I watched sleepily as the gosling toddled over to the edge of the cover, took one more step, and blip! It fell over the side, landing in the water between the boat and the slip.

“Oh, no!” I yelled, jumping to my feet.

The father goose immediately swam over and began to honk. The mother waddled to the edge of the boat cover and peered down, calling out.

“Good night, Miss Agnes!” said Grandpa, getting up.

I raced over and lay down on the warm boards, peering at the shifting water next to the boat. Wavelets lapped at the boat’s sides, and at first I couldn’t even see the gosling, but when I leaned over farther I saw it flailing. Starting to float to the shadowed water under the dock.

Everyone had crowded beside the boat next to me, trying to see.

“Can you see it? Can you reach it?” Grandma called.

I stretched my fingertips as far as I could, but the baby had floated too far for me to reach. I scrambled over the edge, feet-first, chest-deep in the water, and swam one stroke over to the struggling gosling. Water streamed off its fluffy little head as I scooped my hands
underneath it and swept it onto the dock. It immediately shook itself off, frantically cheeping.

“You got it, you got it!” Grandma’s voice was filled with relief.

Grandpa leaned down and picked it up. “Okay, little guy, we gotcha. Good save there, Diana!”

I waded over to the steps and Grandma handed me a towel, which I wrapped around me, wet clothes and all.

“I think we better move these goslings so more don’t fall off.” Grandpa carried the gosling down the length of the dock and set it gently in the grass, where it waddled in a circle, cheeping. “Who wants to help me move these little guys?”

“Oh, I want to!” I said, dropping my towel.

“Okay, let’s get to work. Watch out for Mama and Papa.”

But, for whatever reason, the mother and father did not protest us picking up the babies. When we approached the boat cover, the mother cocked her head at us but wasn’t aggressive. The father flapped his wings, but did not come any closer. Grandpa talked to them in a soothing way, then carefully picked up two more babies that had wandered near the edge of the boat cover, and strode with them to the end of the dock and placed them in the grass.

Being careful not to get close to the mother, I picked up two more babies.

“Oh, they’re so soft!” I followed Grandpa as they squirmed and cheeped in my hands. Kneeling in the grass, I gently put them down. Grandma came right behind me, with two more, and set them down carefully.

Stephanie ventured near the nest, but when the mother cocked her head and fixed her beady eyes on her, she hesitated. I went back and, over the mother’s protestations, cradled that last one as I walked down the dock, and placed it in the grass next to its brothers and sisters.

“Now,” said Grandpa, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve got to hope the mother comes to join them.”

The goslings toddled around in the grass in aimless circles, and their cheeping grew louder.

“Go on over there now, Mama,” Grandma said. “Maybe we shouldn’t stand so close.”

We walked a short distance away from the babies and stood in the yard, watching and waiting. She stood anxiously on the nest, stretching her neck in the direction of her babies, and calling to them. We thought she would never go to them.

“Come on, Mama. Come get your babies,” I said.

“Soon as she moves, maybe I’ll move the nest to a safer spot,” Grandpa said.

We stood and waited, holding our breath.

A car’s engine sounded from the driveway.

“Mom and Norm are here,” I said. I met Stephanie’s eyes, and we didn’t have to say a thing, because I knew what she was thinking. Leaving the babies, we headed up to the house.

“We’re back!” Mom called, as she climbed, stretching, from the driver’s seat. I quickly searched her face.

Norm got out of the passenger seat and shut the door.

“Hello, hello!” Grandpa said, raising both arms in greeting. “How was it?

“Fine,” Norm said noncommittally. Stephanie stood by the porch, watching him.

I knew just how she felt. Could I figure out by the way Mom’s face looked, by the way she moved, by the way she looked at us, and at Norm, how things had gone? I watched them both.

“Stephanie?” Norm said. “Lynn told me last night you were with your mother. But now you’re back here?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on in,” Grandma said quickly. “Are you hungry? I can fix you some soup.”

“No, no, we’ll eat at home,” Mom said. She looked at me. “Diana, why are your clothes all wet?”

“I had to save a gosling.”

Everything was suddenly quiet as we trooped into the kitchen. I didn’t know what Grandpa and Grandma
would say. Our stuff was on the couch, packed and ready. Would Norm put his arm around Mom? Sometimes he did that, when things were good. Put his arm around her and played with her hair. But they didn’t touch each other.

Mom looked expectantly at Grandma and Grandpa. “So?”

I held my breath. Then, I decided not to be a coward. I stood up straight and looked Norm right in the eye. “I took the car last night. Without asking.”

Norm knitted his brows and Mom’s mouth dropped open. “You what?”

“Go ahead and ground me.” I crossed my arms over my chest, then glanced at Grandpa, expecting to see a stern expression.

Mom crossed her arms too. “Whoa, hold on, here!”

“She was trying to help me,” Stephanie said quickly. “She came to pick me up because I was stuck at a party.”

“How did that happen?” Norm fixed Stephanie with a stare.

“I thought I had a ride but … I didn’t.”

“Where was your mother?”

“She … met Barry in Asheville.”

Norm’s mouth dropped open. “No wonder you didn’t pick up your phone when I called,” Norm said.

“Maybe we should sit down for this,” Grandma said.

Grandpa put one arm around me and the other around Stephanie. “We’ve had quite a weekend. I think you should discuss this as a family. I trust the girls to tell the truth about what happened, and you two to decide what you’ll do.”

“Let me get this straight, Stephanie,” Norm said, his voice rising. “Your mother came and picked you up … and then left you to go to Asheville to meet Barry?”

Stephanie nodded, looking at the floor.

Norm looked like he was ready to explode.

Mom put her hand on Norm’s arm. “Honey, let’s talk about that later.”

I decided it was a good time to go upstairs and change into dry clothes.

When I got back downstairs, Norm’s face had gone back to its regular color and everyone was talking in normal voices. Stephanie and I headed out to the car with our stuff.

“Can we check on the goslings before we go?” I said. We headed down through the yard, and there we saw the mother leading the babies through the grass, single file, cheeping and waddling, with the father at the end, making sure no one was left behind.

“They came for them!” I said.

“Aren’t they darling?” Grandma said.

Minutes later Stephanie and I sat in the back seat of Norm’s car and we were backing out the driveway.
Norm drove and Mom held a big bag of Grandpa’s tomatoes. Grandma and Grandpa stood on the porch, waving. I had given them both an extra long hug good-bye. Grandpa had his arm around Grandma. Their white hair shone in the late afternoon sun.

“I’ll grate the cheese,” I said to Stephanie. “You cut up the tomatoes.”

Stephanie stood next to me at the counter with the cutting board. We’d set the table, and lined up bowls for the ingredients for fajitas. Sour cream, lettuce, taco sauce, black beans, chicken strips, and shells stood on the counter.

“Need any help?” Mom poked her head around the corner.

“No, no! We’re doing it, Mom. You and Norm relax!”

Mom looked skeptical, but nodded. “Okay, then. Let me know if you change your mind!” Mom’s head disappeared as she headed back to the family room. I heard the murmur of her voice as she told Norm that we didn’t want any help.

“The directions for cooking the chicken are on the back of the fajitas packet,” Stephanie said.

“You read and I’ll follow them.”

This was Stephanie’s and my plan to keep Mom and Norm together. We’d make them a nice dinner, and
then we’d each make a speech telling them how much it meant to us to be a family. Our cooking abilities were pretty much limited to spaghetti and fajitas, and we’d decided on fajitas.

Stephanie and I were both grounded for two weeks, and I lost driving privileges. Noah understood and said he’d see me when the two weeks were up. I wished there was some way I could explain things to Commanche. All he knew was that I wasn’t there. But Josie had told me his foot was almost healed, and he would certainly be ready to ride when I got back.

It was my own fault. I got that.

But I was still glad I had helped Stephanie when she needed it. And I’d do it again. But I’d ask Grandpa’s permission first. Now I knew he probably would have driven us himself.

Norm and Stephanie’s mom had a huge fight on the phone. He yelled at her for leaving Stephanie, and I had to convince Stephanie not to feel guilty about telling Norm that her mom had left.

Hunter texted Stephanie and apologized for leaving her stranded without a ride at the party. He admitted that he was trying to impress the upperclassmen. Stephanie thanked him for the apology.

Star and Clover were both doing fine. We’d called Kirsten that afternoon. Dr. Miller had set Clover’s leg, and now she was with Kirsten. They were both drinking
eagerly from the bottle, and soon Kirsten would take them to the other rehabilitator. I hoped Kirsten was right about their re-entry to the wild.

The chicken sizzled in the pan and a spicy aroma wove around us.

“I think it’s ready,” Stephanie said.

“Something smells pretty good in there,” Norm called. “We’re starving!”

“In a minute!” I yelled. We’d forgotten to warm the taco shells, and I shoved them into the toaster oven.

Stephanie and I started carrying the bowls of ingredients to the dining room, and she arranged them so they looked pretty on the table. The red of the sauce, the green of the lettuce, and the yellow of the cheese looked pretty and appetizing.

I put the toasted taco shells on the table, planning our conversation. I’d come right out and ask Mom and Norm about what happened on their counseling retreat. I’d ask very pointed questions about what was wrong and how they would be fixing things. I’d let them know that it was something they had to do. Because we were a family, and we wanted to stay that way.

“Okay, everything’s ready!” I called.

“No, no, wait!” Stephanie cried. She grabbed some matches from a kitchen drawer and, with a trembling hand, lit the candles on the table. The teardrops of light
from the two candles wavered, then glowed brighter as they caught. “There!” she said. “Now we’re ready.”

Stephanie and I went into the family room to call Mom and Norm to the table. Norm was sitting in his La-Z-Boy and Mom was snuggled on the armrest next to him. She was bending down, lightly kissing his forehead.

Stephanie poked me and raised her eyebrows. We went back into the kitchen. Maybe we didn’t have to ask all those questions about their retreat after all. Maybe everything was going to be okay.

That night I dreamed that Kirsten released Star and Clover into the wild, their spotted coats flickering in the morning sun. Clover’s leg was healed, straight and strong. The little fawns had a quiet grace as they walked beside Kirsten for a few yards. They stopped and gazed at her for a moment, their big ears twitching. When they bounded into the woods, a doe came forward and nosed a greeting, the herd closed protectively around them, and then they disappeared into the dappled sunlit shadows.