The Hundredth Horse

Fινє

More waiting. A different sort of waiting. Even though the brown leather suitcase stayed shut under my bed, it was still open in my mind. Now that I'd seen what was in it, now that I'd remembered the tin girl, my hands itched to touch the brightness and life of it. Sunday morning came, and I knew what I had to do.

We left the city and all the things that were familiar to me. We drove toward my mom's sister, who I couldn't remember, toward my two cousins, who I'd never met. Mom hadn't told me until we got in the car that I was going to be staying with two babies as well. When you're on your way somewhere, it's too late, even if you want to argue.

"They're five and seven; they're not babies," Mom muttered. She seemed miles away.

"How come I've never met them before?"

"People are busy; it's hard to make time. Families are like that sometimes."

The polite lady on the GPS told Mom to take the first exit. We turned off onto a narrow road, then onto an even narrower one between some hills.

"What will I be doing?"

Mom glanced over.

"Nell, what's got into you this last couple of days? Something's bothering you, so why don't you just tell me?"

I couldn't tell her what else I'd been thinking about, like why the carousel Dad made was still in the attic and all the things that it made me wonder about. I was too scared of what she'd say, what she'd think of me. A moment passed. There were potholes and bumps in the road.

"I feel sick," I said.

"Don't be silly. The two weeks will pass in no time."

Which was not what I meant, and anyway, it was wrong. Two weeks takes two weeks. Which is ages.

"No, I mean I really feel sick."

Mom pulled over, searched her handbag, and fished out peppermint candy, a bottle of water, and a paper bag – just in case.

I opened the window and leaned my head out. The air smelled cool and clean. I felt the tickle as Mom curved her hair around my ear, a warm patch growing across my shoulder where she laid her hand.

"It'll be hard for me too," she said, "being without you."

I watched her expression, but I couldn't tell. She kind of looked lost for a minute. Then she drove on, saying we'd be there soon.

Ruts jiggled us down a lane only just wider than the car. We passed mostly green and brown things: trees and hedges, empty fields, and gates. The GPS showered we were off the map, the car on the screen floating in nowhere. The only thing that seemed the same was the sky, the same as it was in the city, high and out of reach.

We dipped farther into the valley, around a corner past a place called Keldacombe Farm, and then Mom parked by a stone wall.

There were two small children sitting on the wall chewing red licorice laces. Gemma, the younger, had fair hair; Alfie had dark hair and flushed cheeks, like me. They wore muddy rubber boots, jeans with holes in the knees, and baggy homemade sweaters.

Before Mom got out, she reached across and held my hand. I noticed how warm her hand was, how it changed the temperature of mine.

"Hello, Auntie Cathy," my cousins said together as Mom stepped out of the car.

"You're Nell, aren't you?" said Gemma, holding the licorice in her teeth. "Everyone calls me Gem."

"Cause Mom says she is one," said Alfie.

"Is Nell short for Nelly?" said Gem. "It rhymes with smell jelly belly," and she giggled.

"No," I said, thinking it wasn't a very nice thing to say.

Alfie elbowed her.

"What? I don't mean she's a smelly jelly belly, 'cause she doesn't look like one," Gem said, swinging her legs and shrugging away from Alfie. "Is it short for Nellina then? Or Nellanie?"

"It's not short for anything," I said. "I'm just Nell."

Gem jumped off the wall and said," You're going to sleep in our room, Just Nell."

Which made my eyes wide open and my heart sink.

Gem said, "Come on. We've been waiting."

Her hand was warm and sticky as she pulled me through the gate.

We followed my cousins through another gate; between chicken-wire fences, sheds, and coops; past a blue greenhouse; along a crazy path toward Lemon Cottage and its open door. There were ducks and geese wandering around the wide garden. The lawn and pond were speckled with feathers.

"They're here!" Gem called.

The geese swayed and raised their heads, honking at us like we'd caused a traffic jam. Their beaks looked hard, their eyes sharp, as if they knew something just by looking at me.

Aunt Liv came out of the door. She wiped her hands on a tea towel and flicked it over her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind the birds as she waded through them. Her flowery dress swished over her knees and across the top of her rubber boots as she hurried to meet us.

She tucked her short dark hair behind her ear. Mom hugged Aunt Liv as if she was in a hurry, gabbling on about how kind she was to have me at a short notice.

"I tried everyone I could think of," Mom said. "You were our last resort."

Mom has a way of saying what she thinks without thinking about what she's saying. Then she listed foods I didn't like (fish, peanut butter, and salad dressing – embarrassing) and how she expected me to behave (polite, kind, helpful) and said I would be no trouble.

Aunt Liv smiled, put an arm around Mom and me.

"Come on in. Gem's made cakes."