didn't speak to Abbie, but gradually he began to walk his own horse over the floor, winding in and out through the table legs. Abbie developed a cramp in her neck and turned over, lying flat on her back. She drew her knees up and made Thunder slowly, with much huffing and puffing, ascend the mountain her legs made.
"This mountain is so high!" she huffed in the best baritone she could muster--she thought Thunder should have a masculine voice. "But I know I can reach the top. I just have to keep trying." She could sense that Harry had turned on his back and was watching her. Slowly she walked the horse up her leg and brought him to rest on top of her knee. "Wheeeee!" she whinnied. "I made it!" She brought the horse into a triumphant pose, rearing to stand on just two back legs. "Wheeee! I'm Thunder, the king of horses!"
Howell walked into the kitchen. He smiled down at Abbie, who felt ridiculous, lying there on her back.
"I just want to get a soda from the refrigerator." Howell squatted down to his son's level. "How're you doing?"
Harry turned on his side with his back to his father.
"It's a hot sunny day, Harry. Wouldn't you like to go down to the beach with Abbie?"
"We could bring the horses," Abbie said. "We could make an awesome corral for the horses out of sand. A barn, too."
Harry shook his head.
"Maybe tomorrow," Abbie said easily. "Anyway, it's going to take Thunder a long time to get down this mountain."
"Thunder looks kind of lonely up there," Howell said.
"I know," Abbie agreed. "It sure would be nice if Thunder had a friend to do things with."
Howell said, "Harry, what do you think? Would Storm like to climb the mountain with Thunder?"
Harry didn't respond.
"Well," Howell said. "I guess I'll get my drink and get back to work."
Abbie waited until Howell left to begin the dramatic progression of Thunder down the leg mountain. "Thunder is exhausted, he's going to take a nap. And I'm going to get a drink. I'm thirsty." She stood up, brushed off her shorts, and opened the refrigerator. It was fairly empty, although there were plenty of juices and soft drinks.
"Would you like some juice, Harry?"
No answer.
She grabbed a soda for herself and poured a cranberry drink for Harry.
"Here you are!" she said, leaning over to put the drink near him.
He didn't respond.
She leaned against the counter as she drank, staring out at the sunny day. She wondered if she could somehow persuade Harry as far as the backyard.
"I've got to pee," she said. "I'll be right back."
She found a half bathroom off the kitchen and was in and out in minutes. When she sat down on the floor again, she saw that Harry's juice glass was empty. Harry was on his side, eyes closed, sound asleep.
15
Emma
G ood," Sandra Bracebridge said, "you're on time."
They were standing on the brick sidewalk outside the Bracebridge mansion, a towering white Greek Revival with a broad front porch and columns. The Bracebridge property was protected from the riffraff by a wrought iron fence with spiked railings.
Emma forced herself to smile. She'd read somewhere that human beings responded in like fashion to stimuli like smiling, yawning, crying, so she was performing a kind of experiment.
But nope, Sandra Bracebridge did not move her lips. It was possible the woman wasn't human. During the brief interview Emma had endured earlier in the day with Sandra Bracebridge, the other woman had remained composed to the point of paralysis. And from everything she'd heard, Millicent Bracebridge, in her eighties and struggling with various infirmities, was going to be even less friendly.
Millicent Bracebridge, her daughter-in-law had told Emma, had fallen this winter and broken her hip, and had never really walked after the operation. At eighty-eight, she had seen her husband and most of her friends into their graves, and pain from arthritis and other minor ailments made her cranky. Now the macular degeneration that had plagued her for years was worsening her
"This mountain is so high!" she huffed in the best baritone she could muster--she thought Thunder should have a masculine voice. "But I know I can reach the top. I just have to keep trying." She could sense that Harry had turned on his back and was watching her. Slowly she walked the horse up her leg and brought him to rest on top of her knee. "Wheeeee!" she whinnied. "I made it!" She brought the horse into a triumphant pose, rearing to stand on just two back legs. "Wheeee! I'm Thunder, the king of horses!"
Howell walked into the kitchen. He smiled down at Abbie, who felt ridiculous, lying there on her back.
"I just want to get a soda from the refrigerator." Howell squatted down to his son's level. "How're you doing?"
Harry turned on his side with his back to his father.
"It's a hot sunny day, Harry. Wouldn't you like to go down to the beach with Abbie?"
"We could bring the horses," Abbie said. "We could make an awesome corral for the horses out of sand. A barn, too."
Harry shook his head.
"Maybe tomorrow," Abbie said easily. "Anyway, it's going to take Thunder a long time to get down this mountain."
"Thunder looks kind of lonely up there," Howell said.
"I know," Abbie agreed. "It sure would be nice if Thunder had a friend to do things with."
Howell said, "Harry, what do you think? Would Storm like to climb the mountain with Thunder?"
Harry didn't respond.
"Well," Howell said. "I guess I'll get my drink and get back to work."
Abbie waited until Howell left to begin the dramatic progression of Thunder down the leg mountain. "Thunder is exhausted, he's going to take a nap. And I'm going to get a drink. I'm thirsty." She stood up, brushed off her shorts, and opened the refrigerator. It was fairly empty, although there were plenty of juices and soft drinks.
"Would you like some juice, Harry?"
No answer.
She grabbed a soda for herself and poured a cranberry drink for Harry.
"Here you are!" she said, leaning over to put the drink near him.
He didn't respond.
She leaned against the counter as she drank, staring out at the sunny day. She wondered if she could somehow persuade Harry as far as the backyard.
"I've got to pee," she said. "I'll be right back."
She found a half bathroom off the kitchen and was in and out in minutes. When she sat down on the floor again, she saw that Harry's juice glass was empty. Harry was on his side, eyes closed, sound asleep.
15
Emma
G ood," Sandra Bracebridge said, "you're on time."
They were standing on the brick sidewalk outside the Bracebridge mansion, a towering white Greek Revival with a broad front porch and columns. The Bracebridge property was protected from the riffraff by a wrought iron fence with spiked railings.
Emma forced herself to smile. She'd read somewhere that human beings responded in like fashion to stimuli like smiling, yawning, crying, so she was performing a kind of experiment.
But nope, Sandra Bracebridge did not move her lips. It was possible the woman wasn't human. During the brief interview Emma had endured earlier in the day with Sandra Bracebridge, the other woman had remained composed to the point of paralysis. And from everything she'd heard, Millicent Bracebridge, in her eighties and struggling with various infirmities, was going to be even less friendly.
Millicent Bracebridge, her daughter-in-law had told Emma, had fallen this winter and broken her hip, and had never really walked after the operation. At eighty-eight, she had seen her husband and most of her friends into their graves, and pain from arthritis and other minor ailments made her cranky. Now the macular degeneration that had plagued her for years was worsening her
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