True Colors

They fell into formation, with Dad out front by at least ten feet, walking fast. Richard and the kids tried to keep up with him. The girls came together at the rear, walking elbow to elbow, as they’d done for the whole of their lives.

“I see Dad’s setting his usual Bataan Death March pace,” Winona said.

“I will never understand why I have to drive to the farmhouse to walk to church,” Aurora said. It was a variation of the complaint she made each month. “How was the rodeo?”

“Great. I won a saddle and fifteen hundred bucks.”

“Good for you,” Winona said. “God knows this place could use some cash.”

Vivi Ann smiled at that, imagining again her triumph when she revealed her plan to make money. For the first time, Winona would see how smart her youngest sister really was. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

There was an almost imperceptible pause. Then Aurora said, “Luke Connelly came back to town.”

“The kid from next door? Wasn’t he in school with you guys?” Vivi Ann tried to draw up a memory of him but couldn’t do it. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s a vet,” Aurora answered. “Winona—”

“Is helping him out,” Winona cut in.

Vivi Ann frowned; something seemed odd. It felt as if her sisters knew something she didn’t. She glanced from one sister to the other and then shrugged. She had too much on her mind right now to sift through nuance for fact. “I don’t really remember him. Is he good-looking?”

“You would ask that,” Winona said crisply.

For the rest of the way, they kept up a steady stream of conversation. More than once Vivi Ann wanted to just blurt out her idea, but in an unusual display of personal restraint, she waited.

After the services, they milled among their friends and neighbors, gathering in the basement for coffee and muffins as usual. Luke Connelly’s return was the topic of conversation. His unexpected reappearance brought up stories about the old days, back when Vivi Ann’s mom and Luke’s mom had been the prettiest girls in town. Ordinarily, Vivi Ann would have listened to those stories greedily—any mention of her mother was special—but today she had too much on her mind to relax and enjoy the conversations, and since Luke wasn’t at church, she lost interest in him quickly.

A little earlier than usual she herded her family together and encouraged them to head home. “Before the rain hits,” she said, and that was enough. They’d walked home in the rain often enough to know it wasn’t fun.

Back in formation, they walked through town and turned onto their driveway. On either side of them were bright green pastures, their boundaries marked by four-rail fencing. At the end of the driveway sat their pretty yellow farmhouse, with its white wraparound porch. Behind it, the Canal, the sky, and the distant mountains were all muted by mist, turned gray so that it was all shadows within shadows.

Clementine whinnied at their approach and galloped toward them.

Vivi Ann hiked up her eyelet skirt and slipped between the fence rails.

“Not again,” Winona said from behind her.

Laughing, Vivi Ann swung up onto Clem’s broad back. Without a lead rope or bridle, she technically had no control of her mare, but her faith in Clem was absolute. She squeezed Clem’s sides and the mare took off, running through the pasture toward the house. Vivi Ann leaned forward, hanging on to Clem’s mane. Her eyes watered at the speed; her hair whipped across her face.

She loved this. Any second Clem could throw her or stop suddenly or veer so fast Vivi Ann couldn’t hang on.

As they neared the house, she whispered, “Whoa, girl. Whoa,” and stroked Clem’s soft neck.

Vivi Ann was on the porch to greet her family when they finally arrived.

“Way to be a role model,” Aurora said. “I hope you’ll stop that when Janie starts lessons.”

“She should be in lessons now,” Vivi Ann said. “We were three when Mom started our lessons, remember?”

“You were three,” Aurora said. “The prodigy. I was five and Winona—”

“Let’s not talk about Winona and horses,” Winona said.

Laughing at that, the three of them went into the house and headed directly to their stations: Vivi Ann on lead, with Winona doing whatever prep work was asked of her—usually cutting vegetables and making the salad—while Aurora set the table. The kids went upstairs to watch videos and Dad and Richard stood silently in the family room, drinking beer and watching whatever sport was in season.

For the next two hours the girls talked and joked and laughed as they got supper ready. By the time the pot roast was done, they’d finished off a bottle of chardonnay and opened another.

Sunday supper began as it always did, with Dad leading them in prayer. Immediately thereafter, the conversational free-for-all began. Vivi Ann tried to wait for a natural lull in the talking to pitch her idea, but now that she was seated, she couldn’t wait any longer. Her enthusiasm was too high.