The Christmas Pony (14 page)

“At least you're back.” Lucy threw off the afghan now and ran over to hug him. “I'm so glad you didn't stiff us on the bill, George.”

“Lucy!”
Mama looked aghast, but George just laughed.

Lucy grimaced. “That's what Grandma said.”

“Well, I don't want to hear you repeating everything your grandmother says.”

“Sorry.” Lucy turned back to George. “Still, I'm so glad you're back.”

“Perhaps you should go to bed now,” Mama suggested.

George nodded. “Especially if you expect Santa Claus to show up.”

Lucy gave him a tolerant smile. “That's all right. I'm old enough to know that Santa Claus isn't real.”

He looked surprised. “What makes you so certain?”

“Tommy Farley told me.”

“And Tommy Farley is an expert on such things?” George asked. “Has he been to the North Pole and done investigations?”

“No. He's only ten.”

“Ten years old and you listened to him?”

Lucy felt a bit foolish now. Come to think of it, Tommy wasn't right about a lot of things.

“If I were you, I would get myself to bed and to sleep as quickly as possible.” George went over to look out the window. “Just in case Santa is passing over your house right now and deciding not to—”

“I'm going!” She made a beeline for the stairs. “Good night, Mama. Good night, George.” Faster than lightning, she zipped up the stairs, leaped into bed, closed her eyes, and tried her best to go to sleep. But first she told God thank you for bringing George back to them. She didn't know how long George would stay or if he loved Mama, but at least he hadn't run out on them like they'd thought.

O
nce again, Lucy woke up before the sun. But since it was Christmas morning, she couldn't stay in bed a minute longer. She still had her doubts about Santa Claus visiting last night, but she was so glad George was back that she didn't even care. She dressed as quietly as she could and tiptoed out to see that George's door was still closed. She hoped he was sleeping in since he must have been tired after his long day yesterday.

When she got downstairs, it appeared as if no one else was up down here either. She silently gathered the chicken bucket and egg basket and went outside. By the light of the moon, which was nearly down to the western horizon, she made her way out to the chickens. Just like yesterday, her footprints were the first tracks in last night's snow. She tended to the chickens, tossing out some extra grain since today was Christmas. Before she left, she checked the nests and was delighted to find nine eggs! Carefully loading them into the wire basket, she could see the sky lightening in the east and knew it wouldn't be long until the sun was up.

With lighthearted steps, she was just heading back to the house when she noticed what looked like smoke coming from the back porch. Alarmed that something was on fire, she nearly dropped the egg basket and bucket, but then George stepped out and waved his pipe at her. “Merry Christmas,” he called out in a quiet voice.

“Oh!” She let out a relieved sigh as she went onto the porch. “Merry Christmas, George. My goodness, when I saw the smoke, I thought the house was on fire.”

He frowned at his pipe. “Oh, maybe I shouldn't be—”

“No, no,” she told him. “It's all right. It just surprised me.” She held up her egg basket. “The hens are laying eggs again!”

His eyes lit up. “The light trick worked!”

“Seven eggs yesterday and nine today. That's sixteen total!”

“Your math is good, Lucy.” He grinned. “Now, how about if you put the eggs in the house and then come help me with something?”

“Sure.” She opened the door, and seeing that the kitchen was still semidark, she quietly set the eggs on the table, then returned to see what George wanted.

“Come with me,” he said as he led her toward the barn and then around behind it. “I have something to show you.”

“I think I know what it is,” she confessed. “I saw the car yesterday, George. I couldn't believe how good it looks. But does it run?”

He grinned. “You'll see.”

Sure enough, the car did start and it did run. George even took her for a little ride. “Just to get the engine warmed up,” he told her. “Then we'll surprise your mother.”

“She'll be so happy.” Lucy looked out the window as the sun crested the horizon. Today it was golden and bright . . . almost like a promise that things were going to get better.

“This is a good old car,” George told her as he turned around to head back for home.

“It sure is.” Lucy beamed at him.

“I think it's a better car than my roadster.”

Lucy was surprised. “But your car is so fancy and nice, George. I'm surprised you'd say that.”

He shrugged. “Fancy and nice doesn't always get you where you want to go, Lucy.”

She remembered him telling about being stuck on the side of the road and nodded. “I guess not.”

“Anyway, I told Mr. Hempley that I might be interested in selling my roadster to him.”

“You'd sell your car?” She turned to stare at him. “How would you get to California?”

He made what looked like a nervous smile. “Maybe I won't go . . .”

“Won't go?” She tried to grasp what this meant. “Do you mean you'd stay here with us in Maple Grove?”

“If your mother would let me.”

Lucy didn't know what to say.

“What do you think? Would your mother be interested in a new husband? For that matter, Lucy, would you be interested in a new daddy?”

Lucy swallowed hard. This seemed too good to be true.

“Maybe I'm rushing things,” he said now.

“No,” Lucy said quickly. “No . . . I was just thinking, George. I do think Mama would be interested in a new husband. I know I'm interested in a new daddy.” She turned and smiled at him. “As long as it's the right one . . . someone just like you!”

He grinned and drove the car a little faster. Soon they were parked in front of the house. “Why don't you go see if your mother is up yet and if she wants to come out and—” But Lucy was already jumping out of the car and running into the house.

“Mama, Mama,” she cried out as she went inside.

“Lucy!” Grandma looked alarmed. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong,” Lucy exclaimed. “Where's Mama?”

“She just went out to the barn. But what's this excitement? I heard George is back, but what are you carrying on—”

“I'll explain it all later,” Lucy said breathlessly. “First I need to find Mama.” She ran for the back door. “Merry Christmas, Grandma,” she called over her shoulder as she shot out. She spotted Mama coming out of the barn now. “Mama,” she cried out, pointing to the car in front of the house. “Look!”

Mama's face was full of wonder. “Who is that and what's going on?”

Lucy grabbed Mama's hand. “Come and see.”

“Merry Christmas,” George said as he hopped out of the car.

“Is that our old car?” Mama asked with wide eyes.

“And it runs, Mama!” Lucy pulled her over to the passenger side. “Get in! George will take you for a ride.”

“Just a minute.” Mama held up her hands with a troubled look. “I have some questions first.”

“What's wrong?” Lucy felt worried now. “I told George it was all right to work on the car. I didn't think you'd mind. You're not mad, are you?”

Mama shook her head with a perplexed expression. “No, I think it's just fine—it's wonderful—that George fixed our car.” She looked at him with glistening eyes. “Thank you very much, George.”

“Then what is it?” Lucy demanded

Mama pointed back to the barn. “Have you been in the barn this morning, Lucy?”

“No, but I did feed the chickens. Do you want me to bring in some wood and—”

“That's not what I meant, Lucy.” Mama glanced at George. “I just wondered if you'd gone into the barn at all.”

“No, Mama.” Lucy was confused now.

“Maybe you should.”

Lucy nodded. “All right. I can do that. But will you go for a ride with George now? He really wants to show you how the car is working so nicely, don't you, George?”

He grinned. “I most certainly do.” He made a slight bow in front of Mama. “It would be my pleasure. That is, if you would care to join me, Miriam.”

Mama looked from George to Lucy, then smiled. “I would love to take a ride with you, George.”

Lucy felt a wave of relief rushing through her. “Good. I'll go to the barn,” she promised. She watched as George helped Mama into the car, then got in and drove slowly down the driveway toward the road.

Confused as to why Mama wanted her to go to the barn, Lucy trudged across the yard again and slid open the big door. Mama had already started a fire in the stove, but it didn't look as if she was doing any laundry this morning. Why should she do laundry on Christmas morning? Lucy was about to leave when she heard a shuffling sound. She jumped. What was that? Had a wild animal gotten trapped in here somehow? Carefully backing toward the door and getting ready to make a run for the house, she heard another sound . . . like a nickering, followed by more shuffling and then a clunk.

“What?”
Lucy stopped backing up and instead walked slowly toward the box stalls in the rear of the barn. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she couldn't believe what she
was seeing. In fact, it took her breath away.
“Smoky!”
she cried as she ran to get a better look at the pony. “What are you doing here?”

He moved his head up and down and let out a little neighing sound as if he was glad to see her, and she let herself into the stall and began to stroke his mane.

“Oh, Smoky,” she said gently. “How on earth did you get here?” She pressed her face into his neck, smelling his horsey smell and feeling his soft, fuzzy coat against her cheek. Tears of joy filled her eyes. “This really is the best Christmas ever,” she whispered to him. “The best Christmas in the whole wide world.” Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer of thanks to God. He had answered every single one of her Christmas prayers—and then some!

Now she noticed a bridle hanging on a peg. Over one of the stall walls was a small, nicely worn saddle and blanket. “Come on, Smoky,” she said as she slipped his bridle onto his muzzle. “We should take a little walk.” She thought she remembered how to do this from spending time at Clara's farm and working with their old, slow plow horses, back before the Saunders family moved away, but it took a few minutes to get it in place and secured.

Feeling happy and proud, she now led Smoky out of the barn and over to the house. “I'm going to get you a treat,” she told him as she walked him up to the porch and tethered him there. “You be a good boy and wait.”

She ran into the house and making a frantic attempt to pour out her jumbled story to Grandma, she grabbed an apple from the cooler and was heading back out the door.

“What on earth?” Grandma stopped her, putting her hand on Lucy's forehead as if she thought she had a fever.

“Come and see for yourself,” Lucy called as she dashed back outside to make certain she wasn't imagining the whole thing. But Smoky was still there, patiently waiting by the porch.

“My word!”
Grandma exclaimed as she came over to peer at the pony.

“Here you go, Smoky.” Lucy held the apple out in her open palm, grinning at her bewildered grandmother.
“See!”

“What in the world?” Grandma ran her hand down Smoky's fuzzy back. “Where did
that
come from?”

“He was in the barn, Grandma!”

“But how in tarnation did he get there?”

“I'm not sure.” Lucy considered this. “There weren't any tracks in the snow this morning. I know because I was the first one up.” She laughed as she stroked Smoky's mane. “Maybe Santa Claus brought him.”

Grandma shook her head. “Well, I'll be. I'll be.” She came around to get a better look at Smoky's face. “I know you're over the moon about this, Lucy. But what will your mother say?”

Lucy pointed to where the old Model T was rumbling toward them. “I'm sure you'll find out soon enough.”

“What?”
Grandma pulled her cardigan around her more tightly as she leaned forward to squint at the road. “Who is that?”

Lucy quickly explained how George had fixed their old car. “It was our secret,” she divulged. “Now George says he might sell his roadster to Mr. Hempley.”

“Whatever for?” Grandma put her hand to her cheek as if she was completely befuddled.

Lucy giggled. “Maybe George thinks one car is enough for one family.”

Grandma's eyes got very wide now.

Lucy continued to pet and calm Smoky as the car pulled up and George turned the motor off. Then she and Grandma watched as George helped Mama from the car . . . and they watched as George pulled Mama into his arms . . . and they watched as George kissed Mama—right on the mouth. And they watched, and giggled, as Mama looked at both of them with flushed cheeks and the biggest smile Lucy had ever seen.

Oh, yes!
Lucy knew without the slightest shadow of doubt that this was the very best Christmas ever—the best Christmas in the whole wide world!