Stories

Gypsy's Gifts

By Donna St. Cyr

“Grandpa Jim!” I raced to the barn with Thomas right behind me.

Grandpa stood outside the barn doors, arms open wide. As we reached him he tried to grab us up for his traditional twirl. He couldn’t get our feet off the ground.

“Wow! You two are so big I can’t spin you together anymore. Sandi, Thomas, let me have a look at you! You’ve grown two inches each!”

“Two and a half, actually!” Dad laughed and hugged Grandpa himself.

“You know, Grandpa,” I said, “we are eleven now.”

“Well, Miss Eleven, are you too big to give your old Grandpa a hug?”

“No!” I squeezed him tightly. We hadn’t seen Grandpa Jim and Grandma Louise since last summer. They live on a farm in Georgia, and we live in Washington D.C. But now we were here for Christmas break, and Dad would be staying until after the holiday!

Thomas and I spend every summer and school vacation with Grandma and Grandpa. That way Dad doesn’t have to worry about us while he’s at work. I miss my friends, but the farm is better than ANY summer camp. We ride the horses, feed the chickens, hike in the woods, and swim in the lake. This year Grandpa is going to teach us how to drive his tractor!

“Where are my favorite twins?” Grandma hurried out of the house.

“Oh, Grandma! Has Gypsy had her foal yet?” I’d been dreaming every night about the foal Gypsy, my favorite horse, was almost ready to have. Gypsy and I had been on a lot of long summer rides in the woods and countryside around the farm. Most horses are born in the springtime and Grandpa worried about a newborn foal surviving the winter, but I knew Gypsy could handle it.

“Not yet, Sandi. She’s due any day now. And we have some special news!”

“Oh, what is it, Grandma?” Thomas asked.

“Can we help with the birth?” I interrupted.

“One at a time,” Grandpa chided. “Gypsy is going to have two foals!”

“Twins!” we shrieked. “Just like us!”

“And there’ll be plenty for both of you to do when the time comes,” Grandma finished. “Now let’s get you settled in.”

After dinner we visited Gypsy in the barn. Her huge belly looked as if it might burst any minute. We brushed her very gently. She wasn’t too happy. She paced around her stall and pawed the ground. I was sure she felt very uncomfortable because there were two foals crammed in there. I couldn’t imagine how they both fit in, or how they would come out.

“Sandi! Thomas!” Dad called us in from the porch. It was time for bed.

“Don’t worry, Gypsy,” I whispered as I gave her one last kiss, “I’ll help you with those twins.”

The next morning we clattered downstairs, ready for a big farmhouse breakfast. Seeing the grownups, we stopped short. They all looked as if they hadn’t slept a wink.

“The foals came in the middle of the night and you didn’t wake us up!” Thomas accused.

“Yes, the foals are here,” Grandpa said. I saw a “look” pass between Grandma and Dad. Something was up.

Thomas tore out of the house and I quickly followed him to the barn. The tiny foals amazed us. They stood shivering on wobbly legs, huddled together in one corner of the warm stall. Their fuzzy fur stuck out every which way.

“I wonder why Gypsy isn’t in here with them,” I said.

“Maybe she’s resting in the other stall.” Thomas looked, but Gypsy wasn’t anywhere.

I felt Grandpa’s strong hands on my shoulder. The grownups had followed us out to the barn.

“Sandi, Thomas, I want you to listen to me. Gypsy worked very hard last night to bring those babies into the world. Dr. Sanders came out to help, but Gypsy wasn’t strong enough.” Grandpa had tears in his eyes. “Kids, Gypsy died after the foals were born. I’m sorry.”

I stared at him. This couldn’t be true! Gypsy couldn’t be gone! I looked around wildly, feeling as if the barn roof were caving in on me. Finally I ran outside, and just kept running. Dad found me a few minutes later, sitting on a log at the edge of the meadow where Gypsy and I used to ride. He tried to fold me into his arms, but I tore away, turning my back to him.

We sat for a long time, neither of us talking. The chilly morning breeze rustled through the brown stalks of last summer’s wildflowers. Everything was so wrong. How could Gypsy be dead?

My dad finally broke the silence.

“Sandi, we need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want those foals. I want Gypsy back!” I yelled.

“Honey, it’s not their fault that Gypsy died. Things like that happen sometimes.”

“I don’t care. I hate them!”

“Do you remember what a good friend Gypsy was to you?”

I thought about all the time I’d spent with Gypsy. She was my best friend, even if she was a horse. I didn’t say anything.

“She still needs you to be her friend. Don’t you think she would want you to love her babies and help raise them?”

“Maybe,” I mumbled, still staring across the field.

“I know you’re sad now, Sandi. But if you help the foals grow up, they’ll keep a piece of Gypsy alive for you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said, refusing to look at him.

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Because after your Mom died, you and Thomas were the only pieces of her that Grandma and Grandpa and I had to hang on to.”

I turned to him for the first time. Gazing into his face, I didn’t know what to say.

“Every day you both are a gift to us, reminding us how much we loved her, and how much we need to love you, because she’s not here to do that herself.” Dad smiled at me.

“Daddy,” I whispered hoarsely. I came back to him and took that hug he’d wanted to give me earlier. We sat together in the frosty sunshine for a few minutes.

“Let’s go meet those gifts Gypsy left us,” he said, standing up and extending his hand for me. I took it, and together we walked back to the barn.

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