But Grandpa stood mesmerized. He wasn't seeing this storm. He was in
another storm long ago, and he was thinking: "'Twas the wind and waves
that wrecked the Spanish ship and brought the ponies here. What if
the wind and waves should swaller 'em and take 'em back again!" In
his darkened thoughts he could see the ponies fighting the wreckage,
fighting for air, fighting to live.
And suddenly he began to pray for all the wild things out on a night
like this. Then he thought to himself, "Sakes alive! I'm taking
over Idy's work." He turned around and saw her at the sink washing
the dishes as if storms were nothing to fret about. A flash of
understanding shuttled between them. They would both hide their fears
from the children.
Paul's voice was now at the breaking point. And Grandpa knew the
questions without actually hearing the words. But he had no answer. He,
too, was worried about Misty. He put one arm around Paul and another
around Maureen, drawing them away from the window, pulling them down
beside him on the lumpy couch.
"There, there, children, hold on," he soothed. "Buckle on your blinders
and let's think of Fun Days. I'll think first. I'm a-thinkin'...."
In the dark room it was almost like being in a theater, waiting for the
play to begin. And now Grandpa was drawing the curtain aside.
"I'm a-thinkin'," he began again, "back on Armed Forces Day, and I'm
a-ridin' little Misty in the big parade 'cause you two both got the
chickenpox. Recomember?"
"Yes," they agreed politely. And for Grandpa's sake, Paul added, "Tell
us about it."
"Why, I can hear the high-school band a-tootlin' and a-blastin' as
plain as if 'twas yesterday. And all of 'em in blue uniforms with
Chincoteague ponies 'broidered in gold on their sleeves. And now comes
the Coast Guard, carryin' flags on long poles, marchin' to the music,
and right behind 'em comes me and the firemen a-ridin'."
Now the children were caught up in the drama, reliving the familiar
story.
"Misty, she weren't paradin' like the big hosses the firemen rode.
She come a-skylarkin' along, and ever'where a little rife of applause
as she goes by. But all to once she seen a snake--'twas one of them
hog-nose vipers--and 'twas right plumb in the middle of the street, and
she r'ared up and come down on it and kilt it whilst all the cars in
the rear was a-honkin' 'cause she's holdin' up the parade."
Grandpa stopped for breath. He gave the children a squeeze of mingled
pride and joy. "Why, she was so riled up over that snake she like to
o' dumped me off in the killin'. But I hung on, tight as a tick, and I
give her a loose rein so's she could finish the job, and...."