Allyson's Beau

By Lois Vander Wende-Williams

     Allyson’s Beau is a story about one young woman’s attempt to obtain a Disney movie type life.  Allyson, married young, and with her new husband, set off to make all her dreams come true.  After all, what did she have to lose?  She immediately thrusts herself into the world of horses hoping to become someone special.  As mere wishes meet concrete reality, “She didn't know what she feared more, riding Beau or arousing Barbara's anger."

     She chooses a scrawny, uncoordinated, bay foal, who becomes her reason for continuing in the rough and rugged horse industry that is determined to wear her down.  As desperation drives her dream, Allyson not only gathers a variety of friends and foes, but meets her true self in the process.  Her colt, her Beau, is not the only love in her life, something she often forgets.  Join Allyson and her Beau, and enter into the world of the Morgan Show Horse.  Through her eyes, learn what it takes to make a dream become reality.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 30, 2006
• ISBN: 9781452078083

Lois Vander Wende-Williams

     Lois Vander Wende-Williams resides in Menlo Park, California.  She has owned, trained, bred, and shown, horses for more than twenty years.  Having experienced a full range of professional positions involving animals that includes veterinary surgical assistant, emergency animal technician, licensed equine artificial insemination technician, and all breed dog and cat grooming, her look into the world of animals and their people is acute.  She still owns her first equine purchase, a Morgan stallion, who is currently healthy and well at twenty-eight years old.  This, makes her the perfect writer for this subject—a young horsewoman.  A graduate of Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology in Berkeley, California, Lois is continuing in a Masters Program for the Episcopal Church.  She hopes to use her skills with animals, writing, and people, to develop a healing ministry.

Book preview

Allyson’s Beau

Lois Vander Wende-Williams

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This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are

the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual

persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

© 2010 Lois Vander Wende-Williams. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/30/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4259-6986-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4259-6987-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-6817-6 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2006908959

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Glossary

Story Behind the Story

For my daughter,

Constance

and

In loving memory of J.W.B.

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Introduction 

Introduction

A note from the Author

My hope is that you, my readers—whether young or old— can see that within the narrative of this story lie deeper dimensions. Although I originally wrote this story for young adults, I believe it has something to offer readers of any age. As you follow the ups and downs of Allyson’s fight to find her dreams and make them a reality, notice that throughout our lives, even when our lives feel totally wrong, we are always exactly where we are supposed to be.

The universe has a strange sense of humor, and as you get to know each of this book’s characters and form mental images of them, both their good and their bad aspects, realize that each of them contributes to the development of Allyson and her life. Each of us, too—sometimes totally unaware—has helped someone to actualize his or her potential, has helped someone be who he or she is meant to be.

Like Allyson, I have sometimes isolated myself in order to find my own purpose in life. Sometimes these struggles are best met alone. On the other hand, our true friends will always help us find our way back when our inner journey is complete, or too hard to handle alone. Writing this book has made me completely aware of how each of us has an impact on the other, as we are connected in ways that are unknown to us.

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Please do not feel technically challenged as you enter into the world of horses in which I have been involved in for most of my life, you can refer to the glossary at the back of the book. Some horse related terms may still leave you questioning their meanings; and when that happens, I strongly advise using that innovative question- answerer, the Internet to clarify anything I may have missed explaining.

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After you have met Allyson and her Beau, and the people who touched her life, I invite you to meet some of the people who have touched my own. At the back of this book, you will find an acknowledgement and dedication to the special people who have made this literary piece a reality. Treasure their stories as well.

Enjoy the journey!

Lois Vander Wende-Williams

Chapter 1 

Allyson’s Beau

Allyson watched from the stairs of her little cottage as the tow truck pulled her ’78 Dodge wagon out of the driveway and down the road. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the dust from the tow truck filled the air. Selling that three-year old wagon would give her enough money to pay the mortgage for another month; but with no way to make the payment after that, she was soon to be without a home. The wagon had been her father’s, and she’d had it only about a year. What a fix I am in, she declared to herself.

Her fondest dream had always been to train and show great horses, and she’d taken her first step or two in that direction. But here she sat instead, beaten and broken by her husband and contemplating divorce. Her hopes were falling to pieces right in her lap, on the cottage stairs. All she wanted to do was die. Gently touching the tape on her nose, she winced from the pain—and she felt rejected and as helpless as a child. She sobbed, pondering, how could God let something like this happen to me? My life is not supposed to be this way. My parents always have been successful—how did I end up in a situation where I feel like I’m a loser?

Now nineteen years old, blonde and attractive, she could have had anyone she wanted. So, she tried to figure out why it had been this man who harmed her. Yet, deep inside, she knew why, even though it was hard to admit: she had been afraid of what her parents would think. In the heat of the moment, after dating for almost six months, she had given in to her hormones. Feeling guilty about having unmarried sex was what led her to the altar with John.

I guess that’s what comes with being a teenager. No, no, I’m a young adult, she argued with herself. That was how she felt others should think of her, as an adult.

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Nearly two years had slipped by since she and John were first married, in New Jersey, where they both grew up. Soon after, they moved to Tennessee. As far back as she could remember, she wanted to move to Kentucky—the mother of the horse industry—and to take the horse-show world by storm. When they tried to settle in Kentucky, they wound up settling in Tennessee instead.

Horse crazy, that’s what her mother called her. She had been happy as a child, although she never had a lot of friends, and both her parents had told her she would outgrow her love of horses. In fact, when she was fourteen years old, her mother found her a job at a small farm where she was responsible for the upkeep of three horses. Every afternoon, Allyson would go and clean the barn, with no pay, an arrangement her mother had made to discourage her. But every afternoon, there she was, happy simply to be around the three Morgan geldings she quickly came to adore.

Her young adulthood had started so innocently. When she had married and bought the cottage—trying to make her dreams come true—she felt she was all grown up. Her desire to ride, groom, and train promising horses was what had mattered to her throughout whatever else was happening. The pressure of being an honor student in school, on the girls’ hockey team, going to art school, together with trying to act and dress appropriately for her parents, all these had merely made her want to run away. But the aspiration of making it big with horses—now that was what made her toe the line.

She had bided her time and done everything everyone else wanted her to do. Now was her time. Deep in her heart, she knew she could be the Alex Ramsey of the Black Stallion novels. Better yet, she could be the heroine who wins the big race in a Walt Disney movie. That was the dream that truly belonged to her.

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As she sat on the steps, out of nowhere her collie, Champagne, started barking. Allyson’s mind crashed back to reality and she wrung her hands in frustration. With her daydream over, she suddenly realized how long ago that had been.

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Like most newly married couples, Allyson and John Hader had made big plans for once they would be married. Soon after their wedding day, they packed up their rebuilt ’57 Willys Jeep with all their earthly possessions (conveniently, it all fit in the back); and taking along Champagne, they headed out to impress the world. Champagne was the collie Allyson wanted ever since, while a young child, she saw Lassie on TV.

John would be able to find work anyplace, they were sure. After all, he was a mechanic. And, because he was a blonde, bearded, rough-cut, and stocky young man of German descent, Allyson was certain he would have no problems finding a job down south—everyone there was blonde and blue-eyed.

It turned out, however, that no work was to be found. They camped from one end of Kentucky to the other, and nearly used up the little savings they had managed to gather. Out of desperation, John finally called his old employer, a transmissions factory in New Jersey. The personnel office told him he could probably find work in Tennessee, at a factory with connections to theirs. So John and Allyson continued to pack and camp until they reached the border of Tennessee on the Fourth of July. While driving down the Appalachian Mountains the evening of the Fourth, they stopped at a lookout. The view was of a small industrial town between Kentucky and Tennessee, where the fireworks had just begun.

As they watched the fireworks display, each of them privately was thinking that perhaps they had finally reached the promised land. Maybe John at last would find work, and maybe they would even have the possibility of a home with a yard large enough to accommodate Champagne, some puppies, and a horse. Tennessee must have horses, Allyson assured herself as they drove on into the state.

But the plant was not hiring, and to make matters worse, neither of them knew anybody. So where would they go from here? Allyson felt pretty overwhelmed; after all, they were about to run out of money. They drove to a small college town called Cookeville, located right in the middle of the state. At this point, they thought, this is as good a place as any to try to begin a new life.

They decided to use the rest of their funds to rent a trailer in a small trailer park. For now, this is what they would call home. After a few weeks of filling out job applications and going to disappointing interviews, John finally found a job washing and prepping cars at the local Volkswagen dealership. The pay was not bad and the position held the possibility for advancement. Allyson decided to deliver the local newspaper: at least she would be able to drive around, and at night if she were bored, she could go into the newspaper office and sort advertisements. At this point, neither one could afford to be fussy. She figured, at least it is a job and it pays.

After about a month at the paper, Allyson read a help-wanted ad for Someone to clean and work horses. Maybe this was her start! Her heart began pounding as she dialed the number. She learned that a family, the Pattersons, had a small farm with Tennessee Walking Horses and they needed help. What on Earth was a Walking Horse? Allyson pondered. Back in New Jersey there were Thoroughbreds, hunter jumpers, racehorses, and of course—the love of her life—Morgan Horses. But all these horses trotted. They did not walk.

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She remembered thinking that this experience would be like the small farm of her teenage years. Her reverie then turned to the Patterson’s home, where the seed of her horse dream was first nourished. Suddenly, the reminder of that home and its beauty, with that busy family living in it, was more than she could handle. She looked at the humble cottage of hers as she sat on the steps remembering her past. She sniffled and tried to dry her tears. Her mind nagged her with thoughts of what life was supposed to be: beautiful furniture, money, family, employees who would vacuum and dust—just like the Pattersons had. What exactly had gone wrong? What had she done to deserve instead a battering and losing her possessions?

When she answered the ad, she learned that Weldon Patterson, the man who placed the ad, was some sort of doctor. After a brief discussion from the newspaper company’s phone, they agreed to meet.

Arriving at the small farm, Allyson knocked on the front door of the house and was greeted by Weldon. Allyson looked him over and was surprised to learn this man was a doctor: his body was short and round; on his head was a strange tuft that might not even have been his real hair; and his ruddy complexion didn’t resemble the educated physicians Allyson had known as a child. As they stood inside the doorway, an absolute knockout of a woman approached them from inside the house. Weldon introduced her as his wife, Susan. Allyson’s eyes widened as she turned her gaze to this woman who looked like a model. How Weldon ever landed this lady was a mystery to Allyson.

Dr. Patterson herded Allyson and his wife into their kitchen to discuss the work. The kitchen looked like an example of colonial living from House Beautiful. They each settled into a chair at the kitchen table. Weldon was quite coarse in his manners, to say the least. He answered Allyson’s questions abruptly and acted annoyed. Susan, on the other hand, spoke slowly and gently with a southern drawl, which was surprising because she looked like a Swedish beauty. The couple introduced Allyson to their two lovely daughters—Gretta, a nine year old, and Mary, twelve. They both resembled their mother, thank goodness.

Now the important part to Allyson was that the Patterson family had five horses, a small barn, an outside riding corral, and forty acres of turnout pasture. With their busy schedule, they had no time to keep up the place, and they were looking for someone to straighten out the barn and tack, maybe mow the lawn, and exercise the horses. The house, too, would be the caretaker’s responsibility, along with occasional childcare duties. Allyson brightened at the thought of working on such a beautiful farm. Housework wasn’t her favorite, but at least there were horses; and this time, unlike before, she would get paid. She put on a smile while Weldon described what was expected in his demanding tone. At the end of the lecture, he simply said, See you early tomorrow, humph! Allyson’s fake little smile suddenly brightened into an ear-to-ear grin when she realized the job was hers.

Early the next morning, Allyson set out for the Patterson farm. That day felt like a fresh opportunity, and she had a chance to notice what a glorious midsummer morning it was. It felt good to be someplace where a real family lived, instead of the tight quarters of the house trailer where she and John lived. When she arrived at the Patterson’s home, she was taken by surprise. What she thought was a nice organized family turned into a full-blown tornado. Everyone was bustling about—grabbing coffee cups, notebooks, briefcases, and keys—while Weldon shouted instructions to Allyson and the children. After about ten minutes, there stood Allyson in the doorway, alone, along with a list of chores to do.

A few minutes after everyone left, she walked into the kitchen and looked around. Then she quietly went into the living room, which had an entertainment center on one side and a large brown sofa in the center. She noticed a baby grand piano further back behind the sofa, and a staircase set into the wall on the far left side of the room. Out of curiosity, she continued her self-led tour of the house. The stairs went up to two small bedrooms that Allyson guessed belonged to the girls. At the end of the hall, a bathroom separated the bedrooms. Allyson loved colonial-style houses; this must have been the original blueprint of such a house, she thought, constructed in traditional style. As Allyson came down the stairs, she realized that the old house had been given an addition. Across from where she stood and behind the piano, where there should have been a solid wall, she saw a small corridor made of stone, which seemed to end at a separate entrance from the outside.

She felt as though she were going somewhere forbidden while she slowly and cautiously walked through the corridor. When she got to the end of it, she knew why she felt like an intruder. This must be the master bedroom, she recognized. The corridor opened into a large A-frame addition to the house. It had a polished oak floor, oriental rugs, a fireplace, two large couches full of pillows, and a rocking chair. At the far end of the spacious room were a large glass panel window and a glass door opening onto a porch. Opposite the glass, she saw a bookshelf climbing high up the wall adjacent to a metal spiral staircase. And at the top of the staircase was a loft, which held the usual bedroom furniture, including a bed and a dresser.

Her imagination immediately went to work. She pictured Susan nude, with her long hair cascading over her shoulders like Lady Godiva. She imagined Weldon sitting by the fireplace making erotic suggestions. This is the kind of romantic scene from which movies are made, she reflected, and her fantasy continued with Weldon pouring some wine as Susan glided over to him with her long hair swinging forward to frame her breasts.

Allyson’s imagination was very creative, straying beyond reality into the world where motion pictures lived. Characters were bigger than life, and life itself was brilliantly colored and dramatic.

For nearly a year following that day, Allyson cared for the Patterson home, cleaned the barn, and worked horses; and during that time, she was almost completely ignored by the Patterson family. What Allyson’s young eyes did not notice, though, was that their lives were much too busy for them to enjoy what they had acquired. Nonetheless, Allyson lived in her fairytale about them, believing that such a world was possible even for her. She wanted to have it all, too.

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Awakening from her reminiscence, she saw the tow truck moving out of sight in the distance. As it disappeared down the road, it appeared to pull away from her what seemed like the last vestige of her dreams. She fought more tears as she sat on the stairs with her face in her hands.

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Chapter 2 

As the late afternoon turned into evening, the hot day began cooling off. Allyson had not moved from the cottage steps. Her body was still, but her mind was active, deep in thought about her past, trying to digest all the events that led to her present situation. What was she thinking back then? Had she been living in a dreamland? She certainly hadn’t planned this. It seemed as though now was a little too late for facing reality. Champagne walked up and nestled next to her, placing her head on Allyson’s lap. They both sat on the cottage steps together, as Allyson’s mind wandered back in time.

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John had kept on working and so did Allyson, barely paying their bills and going nowhere fast. Then, there was the Sunday night in the trailer when the police knocked on her door and notified her about her father. It was at that moment she realized just how poor they really were. She and John had never been able to save up enough money to put a deposit on a phone. Until that night they had done all right by driving to the little market down the street to make phone calls. She had even arranged to use the phone at the newspaper company during her ten-minute breaks. What she was unprepared for was an emergency.

Around ten o’clock in the evening, two officers came to tell her that her father had died. They explained that her mother had gone shopping in the evening while her father stayed home to watch the news on TV. When her mother came home, she found him asleep in his favorite chair. Only he was not asleep, he had passed away from a heart attack. Mrs. Van Wede’s loud wailing had alarmed her neighbor, who then came over to find out what was wrong. The neighbor sizing up the situation took control, and after realizing there was no immediate way to contact Allyson, she helped out by locating and calling the local sheriff in Allyson and John’s town.

With no extra savings, Allyson and John were grateful that the Patterson’s were kind enough to buy tickets for her and John to fly to New Jersey for the funeral. The Patterson’s farewell was tinged with sadness, because they assumed she wouldn’t be coming back.

Once in New Jersey, Allyson realized that her mom was taking her husband’s loss very hard, so the young couple ended up staying with her for several months.

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Allyson’s father had left her some money as well as his Dodge wagon. And now, thinking of how the wagon she had driven for more than a year was just towed away, she again felt forlorn. It had been her last connection with her father and now even that was gone.

She started thinking about the decision to return to Tennessee.

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She had guarded herself against becoming trapped again into her mother’s suburban lifestyle. Wherever Allyson was, her dream of working with horses remained with her. After her mother adjusted to taking care of the bills, putting out the garbage, and finding a maintenance man to do the work her father regularly did, once again Allyson and John packed themselves up—this time into the little Dodge wagon—and drove south.

They were back in Tennessee, and no more than six months later Allyson decided to use her inheritance to buy a house. The choice of homes with Allyson’s small down payment was disheartening, especially because she wanted a farm. The townhouses were nice, neat, and clean; but when they looked at houses out in farm country, where she really wanted to live, they never knew what to expect. The homes were either two hundred years old and falling apart or they were totally cut off from society. Allyson and John picked out a small carriage cottage made of stone. It was the perfect size for a couple: a small kitchen, good-size living room, small bedroom with a closet, and—what Allyson liked best of all—an attic bedroom. Upon first sight, the cottage gave her a cozy feeling. So, they put a down payment on it and signed on the dotted lines, both ignorant of the stress and hardship that would later come from having to pay that monthly mortgage.

John continued to work and had recently been moved up to a mechanic’s position. To the boys at work, he seemed to be the perfect husband, breadwinner, and of course, one of those charming life of the party kind of men. Actually, John was developing a following all his own. Meanwhile, Allyson chose to stay at home and try gardening, cleaning, and creating some watercolor paintings. After all, her parents had paid for her art school. She thought if her artwork paid off, she could buy her own horse. She knew she didn’t want that traditional nine-to-five work schedule of the New Jersey suburbs.

She wanted the traditional wife’s role with that little extra, horses. However, John had slowly begun a new habit—staying out late at night with the boys. Time passed by, spring turned into summer, and while Allyson’s garden was growing vegetables, her mind was growing restless. Alone during the day and most of the night, she needed to fill in the empty spaces. The soap operas on television bored her and she wasn’t disciplined enough to finish any of the paintings she had started, so she began venturing out to the library.

One day at the library, while looking through the local newspapers and magazines, she came across a Morgan Horse magazine, the official publication of the Morgan Horse Association. Flipping through the pages containing well-groomed horses as well as advertisements and pictures of Vermont farms in all their splendor, she was lost in her own little dreamland. The back page of one of the Morgan magazines had a business card stapled to it. The card was for the Jackson Farm, specializing in raising and breeding Morgan Horses. Better yet, the address was Sparta, Tennessee, the next town over from Cookeville. Allyson pulled the staples off the card and tucked it into her pocket.

All the way home that day, she dreamed of finely groomed Morgan Horses and beautiful acres of farmland. Allyson decided she would tell John that night that she was going to buy her own horse, a Morgan Horse. She had it all planned. She would make him a nice dinner, a fresh pot of coffee, and an apple pie for dessert. He liked steak—she would go down to the grocery store near the end of their dirt road and pick up one. As she drove to the market, she imagined how this new interest could belong to both of them. Her mind continued to wander while she cooked the dinner. John would be so excited, she thought. It would be like having a child—only better, no diapers.

After the supper was cooked and she waited for John to come home, reality seeped in. He was continually staying out late, and they were growing farther apart. The sun slowly set, and the sky continued to darken. Still in the pan, the steaks seemed to shrivel in a pool of grease. Allyson decided to make coffee; she might as well have some of the pie herself.

Just as Allyson poured herself a cup of coffee, she heard the front door open. John slowly entered the living room. Standing inside the door and leaning on the wall, he pulled off his work boots.

Hi, honey, I made you some dinner, Allyson called out from the kitchen. Come on in the kitchen. I have something to tell you.

As he entered the kitchen, Allyson came up to him and gave him a squeeze. Then she turned the flame back on the little steak. With her eyes bright, she sat down at the table. As John slid down into the seat across from her, Allyson—like a pot about to bubble over—started pushing a plate toward him. And without letting a moment lapse, she blurted out her plans to buy a horse. John was not interested. When she put the steak on his plate, he just waved his hand. I already ate, he stated quietly, pushing the dinnerware away from his placemat.

Allyson ached with eagerness to share her dream of owning her own horse. He explained to her that he was tired and it was quite late, and he brushed off her need for conversation. John rose from the table and headed into the bedroom. Leaving the dishes right where they were on the table, Allyson followed him. After shedding