Forgetting How to Breathe Page 5

  Next, Grandpa Bebe attached a lead rope to the halter. He walked Garri in a circle, explaining what to do if he, or another horse, didn’t walk nicely beside her. “Remember that you’re the boss. You lead, not the other way around.” He handed her the rope.

  Tia wasn’t sure what walking had to do with grooming but she didn’t ask. She was over the moon to be walking beside this magnificent animal. Not just walking, but leading! When she stopped, Garri did too. Same when she took a step forward.

  Grandpa Bebe opened the barn door and motioned for her to take Garri inside to the grooming area. Scout wagged his tail in encouragement.

  There were horse-high rings in the wall, each spaced a few feet apart. Grandpa Bebe showed her how to fasten the lead rope to it, then made her tie and untie it until she was comfortable. “I’ll give you a halter and lead to take home with you,” he said. “Practise until you can do it with your eyes closed.”

  Then came the brushing. First the currycomb, round and round on Garri’s neck, back and belly, then a scrubby mitt made of soft, rubber bristles on his legs and nose. Next came the hard bush, followed by the soft brush, and finally a comb for his mane and tail. In the end, the dirt that had been hidden in Garri’s coat was transferred quite thoroughly onto Tia.

  “You have enough strength for another?” Grandpa Bebe asked.

  Tia nodded. Her arms were tired, but she didn’t want to stop. Not yet.

  “Okay, let’s see you take Garri back to the paddock, and you can give Dinni a brush.

  Dinni was hardly dirty at all on account of spending most of the day inside. As Tia finished, she looked over the stall wall at Disa, who was gazing back at her. There was something about her eyes. She felt a pang of longing as recognition dawned. Big, soft, and kind. They reminded her of Mama.

  “Can I brush Disa too, Grandpa Bebe?” Tia asked.

  He smiled. “I don’t see why not.” He reached over Disa’s stall door and scratched her under her chin. “She does get cranky sometimes being cooped up like this, but she seems content enough right now. Make sure to tie her up, even in her stall, and watch her ears in case she has any sore spots. If she flicks them backward, back off a little. That’s her way of letting you know.”

  Happily, Tia got to work. So completely absorbed she was in her task, she jumped when Grandpa Bebe spoke a short time later. “You’re doing a fine job, Tia. Can I leave you alone?”

  “Of course!”

  “Right then. I’ll be in the back paddock if you need me.”

  Disa loved the attention. When Tia reached an itchy spot with the currycomb, the horse moaned and leaned into her, eyes halfway closed. “Lovely mama,” Tia cooed. “So patient. So good. I’m going to make you shine.”

  Finished at last, Tia placed the brushes outside the stall, giving faithful Scout a pat on the head, then returned to release Disa from her lead and halter. Instead of moving away, the horse placed her head on Tia’s shoulder and sighed.

  Suddenly choked with awe and something else, something big she couldn’t name, Tia returned the hug. And then she knew.

  She was in love.

  Chapter Six

  She was in a house she both knew and didn’t know. It was their apartment in Winnipeg, but also different, as it had many more than their two bedrooms. She was hurrying to make beds that weren’t supposed to be there, but every time she made one, it would suddenly be unmade. Except for Mama’s. That bed stayed perfect.

  She jogged down the long, yellow hall, past the picture of a fish that Tag had scribbled on with marker and they hadn’t quite scrubbed away, and finally reached the kitchen. Mama was sitting at the chipped tile table in the kitchen where they had breakfast every morning. Her head was tilted down, and she was looking at a photo album.

  “Let me see, Mama, let me see,” Tia said, over and over.

  But no matter how many times she said it, Mama wouldn’t look up and show her the photos. Why wouldn’t she look at her?

  Tia awoke in a sweat, her heart pounding so hard, it was a wonder it hadn’t woken the house. She felt ill and something else.

  Guilty?

  She cleared her throat and pushed herself up on her elbows. Dreams were weird like that. They made no sense.

  But why wouldn’t Mama look at her?

  Through the gingham curtains on her window, which she kept open so she could see the sky, Tia saw vivid swaths of violet, fuchsia and mandarin pushing away the remnants of night. She padded across the floor, stood at the window and watched until a raven arced across the lake toward the woods. It pulled her attention back down to the earth, toward Ice Pony Ranch, where just yesterday she’d found the best and most lovely animal friend of them all: Disa.

  Grandpa Bebe and Jennifer were probably already awake and feeding the animals. Mornings and late afternoons were the busiest times at the ranch and shelter. They could probably use a hand.

  Tia briefly remembered Cathy and her rules. “Not every day,” she’d said. “Every two days at most.”

  After figuring out when Tia was likely to have the most homework and taking into account family game night, Tia and Cathy had agreed that she would work Tuesdays and Fridays after supper and then Sunday all day.

  But they hadn’t talked about early mornings.

  Tia thought about it for a moment. She would be back home well before the school bus arrived to carry her and Tag off to town. She wouldn’t miss a thing.

  With electricity sparking through her veins, she pulled on blue jeans and a cable-knit sweater. She brushed her teeth, scribbled a quick note, which she left on the kitchen table, and then hurried out the door.

  She felt a surge of excitement. If I get there quick enough, maybe I can give Disa her breakfast grain!

  Tia reached the barn and Horatio scooted away, bleating. “It’s okay, little guy. We’re going to be friends, I promise. You won’t be shy forever.”

  Through the doors, she heard commotion. Inside, she was met by a glorious cacophony of whinnying, stomping and trotting, as horses, released from their stalls, made their way to the outdoor paddocks.

  “Stay back!” came a bellow over the chaos. It was Grandpa Bebe. “Out!”

  After a second of stunned paralysis, Tia ducked back between the doors and left the barn. She was confused, her head suddenly pounding, and she blinked hard to keep hurt from spilling out in tears. What was that all about? Grandpa Bebe had been so kind to her, made her feel appreciated and needed. Why didn’t he want her there now?

  It’s not fair, Tia thought. I was only trying to do something helpful.

  She was almost to the road when Grandpa Bebe’s voice stopped her again.

  “Hang on, Tia, come back here.” There was no trace of the outrage she’d heard in the barn.

  “Forget it!” she shouted. A person’s true colours always show when they don’t have time to paint on something else. What was he going to say? That he was just kidding? That he was as nice as he’d obviously just pretended to be when she and Tag had first stumbled across him and his horses?

  She could hear him catching up. “Hang on, Tia. Please,” he puffed. He put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop.

  He looked hard at her, his bushy eyebrows smashed together in the middle. “You can’t do that!”

  Tia felt her mouth drop open in surprise. She’d expected an apology—or an excuse. Not this. “I … do what?”

  Grandpa Bebe put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it. “Did we not talk about feeding-time safety?”

  Tia shook her head, still on the verge of tears but repelling the emotion that threatened to pummel her into someone smaller than she wanted to be. She would not, must not, show weakness. Grandpa Bebe had yelled at her for no reason. He was the one who should be upset, not her.

  Grandpa Bebe took a deep breath. “Okay, that’s on me. I’m sorry I yelled. Come on up t
o the barn. We’ll have some hot cocoa and go over a few ground rules. Okay?”

  Huh?

  Tia hesitated, then followed. She hadn’t actually expected him to apologize, just like that. Part of her felt like staying mad, but the thought of hot cocoa was inviting. She’d left the house without putting anything in her belly.

  When they reached the barn office, they found a plate with four buns waiting beside a dish of butter and a knife. The buns were in rectangle shapes twisted in the middle so that they looked like pastry bow ties. They were still steaming, smelled warm, buttery, heavenly.

  “Ostaslaufur!” Grandpa Bebe cried out.

  “Um, gesundheit?” Tia teased.

  “Jennifer’s been baking this morning. These are Icelandic cheese buns. My favourite.”

  Icelandic horses, Icelandic buns … “Are you Icelandic?”

  “My last name is Arnason. My great-great-grandfather arrived here from Iceland a little over 100 years ago, back when this area was still known as New Iceland.”

  “Was he an explorer or something?”

  Grandpa Bebe chuckled. “Not quite. Icelanders first came here in 1875, after volcanic eruptions in Iceland made life very difficult. They thought this might be their new homeland. Gimli was the first town. It means ‘paradise’ in Icelandic.”

  “But there is still an Iceland.”

  “There is! People are made of tough stuff. They survive. Speaking of surviving, let’s go over those barn rules!”

  “Okay.”

  Eyeing the cheese buns, she sat and took in her surroundings while Grandpa Bebe plugged in the kettle to make cocoa.

  Calling it an office was a stretch. There was no filing cabinet or computer like in the shelter office, and Grandpa Bebe’s desk was little more than a small kitchen table with two chairs. It was more like a resting space with shelves holding mysterious jars and squeeze-tubes. Horse medicines, maybe.

  Grandpa Bebe set two mugs of steaming cocoa on the desk and sat down. “First off, you call out ‘Door!’ before opening one.” He paused. “Are you listening, Tia? It’s really important.”

  “Uh-huh,” she answered, and she was, but gosh those cheese buns looked good.

  “Go ahead,” Grandpa Bebe said, smiling.

  “Thanks!”

  She took one that had cheese filling squishing through a centre twist. The bun was perfectly warm and moist, which meant her fingers sunk into the sides of it just a bit, but didn’t moosh through.

  “Remember,” Grandpa Bebe said, “unless you have x-ray vision, you never know if there’s going to be a horse on the other side. They startle easily, and any person next to a horse or riding one might get stepped on or thrown if it bolts.”

  Grandpa Bebe continued with rules as she broke the bun in half, inhaling the sweet scent.

  “And when horses are running in and out, you can’t be anywhere near where you might get stepped on. Like this morning!”

  “I get it,” she said.

  “You sure?”

  She tried to look solemn to show that she understood the seriousness of the situation, but her anticipation of the pastry twists made her mouth water and her soul dance. She broke into a broad smile. “I do now. Promise.” She spread the middle of her pastry with butter and bit in, letting the butter drip down her chin before catching it with a paper napkin.

  “Good! And I already told you about leaving gates and doors as you find them.”

  Tia spread more butter on for another bite. She’d never tasted anything better. Bite, chew, swallow. Yum.

  “So, are we clear?” Grandpa Bebe asked.

  Tia nodded, wiping a last smear of butter from her chin, the bun entirely gone, even the crumbs. “I just thought you might need some help. You know, with feeding.”

  “That’s good of you, Tia. Feeding time is busy, but I’ve got an even bigger job if you have time.”

  “Sure!”

  Grandpa Bebe frowned. “Hang on. Don’t you have school?”

  “Later.” In her hurry to leave the house, she’d forgotten her watch, but that had been only, like, fifteen minutes ago. She’d left the house even before Cathy had come down to make breakfast, which was usually crazy early. She’d keep an eye on the clock in the barn. It would be fine.

  Grandpa Bebe’s eyes twinkled. “You might not be so excited when I show you what it is.”

  In a blink, Tia had a pitchfork in hand and was cleaning out stalls. If Grandpa Bebe thought she wouldn’t like this, boy was he wrong. Sure, it was poo, but it wasn’t as gross as the poo from some of the other animals Tia had cleaned up after. It didn’t even smell that bad. She supposed it was because of what horses ate: grain, alfalfa and sweet hay.

  Tia set aside her poo musings and focussed on the rhythm of the fork. As she worked, she revelled in the ache in her arms and back. It felt real. Honest. It was easy to lose herself in the sounds of the pitchfork scraping boards, Grandpa Bebe sweeping, and Disa snoring two stalls down.

  Dinni was out for her morning exercise, so when Tia got to Disa’s stall, she moved her temporarily to Dinni’s space. Afterward, back in her usual stall, Disa rested her chin on Tia’s shoulder and sighed, just as she had the day before. This time, as Tia hugged her, she rubbed behind Disa’s ear and was rewarded with a contented groan.

  Best. Horse. Ever.

  Tia wondered what kind of a mother Disa would be. Probably pretty good. After all, Dinni turned out fine. From what she’d seen on TV and driving along highways beside fields, horses mostly just let their babies run around wherever they wanted. They knew they would come back when they were hungry, or maybe if they were hurt and needed comfort.

  Mama was kind of like that, too.

  Tia remembered once, when she was younger, she’d gotten mad because Mama wouldn’t take her to the water park where some kid on the street was supposed to be having their birthday party. She’d decided to make Mama unhappy, just like she was unhappy, by making her think she’d run away. Tia hid in her closet for hours. She’d waited and waited for Mama to call out, all worried and looking for her, but the call had never come. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep.

  The next morning, Tia had found Mama sound asleep in her own bed and had asked why she hadn’t come looking for her. Mama had looked confused at first as she rubbed her head and slapped her bedside table looking for the bottle of pills she always kept there. She said she’d figured Tia just needed some time to herself.

  Like a horse, Mama let her be free. She wasn’t smothering, like some mothers. Like Cathy. Cathy had to know where Summer and Daye were and what they were doing every minute of every day. Especially since the rock incident.

  She felt a small stab of guilt.

  As if on cue, the barn door swung open, and there she stood. Fake mom.

  “Were you planning on going to school today, Tia?” Cathy asked. She had one hand on hip, brows furrowed.

  Oh! Tia glanced up at the barn clock. 8:45! She’d missed the bus. School would start in fifteen minutes.

  Grandpa Bebe looked at her, his brows smashed together like he was trying to figure something out.

  “Sorry, Cathy,” Grandpa Bebe said. “I just figured …” He looked again at Tia. “A misunderstanding, I think.”

  Cathy shook her head. “Don’t give it a second thought, Grandpa Bebe.” Although Cathy didn’t speak the words out loud, her stern look clearly meant: She’s not even supposed to be here today.

  Tia winced when she saw Grandpa Bebe looking at her in much the same way. Wishing she could disappear through a trap door, she pushed the straw in Disa’s stall around with her foot. Not that she actually thought there would be a trap door, but … well, you never knew.

  “Come on, then,” Cathy said.

  Cathy didn’t say two words as she drove Tia to school, which meant she was really mad. Otherwise she would have in
sisted Tia stop at the house to change. She was definitely sporting Eau de Pony.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Cathy said, pulling up in front of the school.

  Tia knew what that really meant—that she needed to fine-tune her punishment. She felt a brief twinge of panic that Cathy might send her and Tag away, boot them toward another placement.

  Or … what if she changed her mind about letting Tia work at Ice Pony Ranch? If she did that, what did it even matter where they lived?

  This was all so unfair!

  Instead of thanking Cathy for the ride or apologizing, Tia slammed the door of the minivan and stomped into the school, making it inside just as the last bell rang, signalling she was late.

  Tia closed her eyes. One more thing she’d be in trouble for. First Grandpa Bebe, then Cathy, and now this. How had this day that had begun gloriously so suddenly turned into a murky mess? She’d been an idiot to think she could have something good here. It was obvious there was only one place she truly fit, and that was with her mother. Her real one.

  Like she’d suddenly had a bucket of ice water splooshed into her face, understanding dawned.

  That was what the dream had meant, why Mama wouldn’t look at her. When Mama needed her most, Tia had betrayed her by relaxing into this new life. It was up to Tia to find Mama, because no one else would.

  There was something else bothering her. Something she hadn’t told anyone, not even Tag. It was about what happened the night before Mama disappeared.

  They’d had a fight. Sort of.

  Tia was used to seeing Mama drink. Lots of times she’d have a bottle of wine on the go as she made supper or sometimes when she was home in the afternoon and just sitting and reading a book. Mostly she went out to drink and would come home after and go straight to bed—except for when she’d call home to say she’d be gone for the night, maybe a few nights. That had happened even more after she’d met Richard.

  But then Tia had started finding empty bottles by the sink when she woke up in the morning. One, sometimes two. And there’d been more under the sink. Tia wasn’t stupid. She’d seen commercials about people who had problems, they’d even talked about it at school. There was help for that.