The Sweetest Thing by Elizabeth Musser Read Free Book Online Page B

second thought waded in, the water reaching up to near the horse’s belly. And before I knew it, Dobbs had slid off the horse and was laughing and splashing water around her while her teeth chattered. I brought Red down to the bank and watched, fascinated.
    She was twirling around and saying in a singsong voice, “Water! Isn’t it wonderful? Smelly lake water.”
    Then she turned toward me and sent a long arc of that water right into my face.
    â€œHow dare you!” I squealed. “I don’t want to get wet!”
    Eyes flashing, she laughed. “It’s too late for that.”
    Infuriated, I gritted my teeth and kicked Red, and we descended into the lake. I took off my riding hat, dipped it into the creek, and drew it up full, then came beside Dobbs and turned the whole hatful of water onto her head.
    She let out a bone-chilling scream and burst into laughter, and for some reason, I slid off into the water and started splashing her for all I was worth.
    Before long, we were soaked to the bone and my sides ached from laughing. We collapsed on the side of the lake and shivered as the chilly March breeze rippled over us.
    I looked over at Dobbs—her eyes were shining with pleasure—and whispered, “You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met.”
    â€œThanks.”
    A little while later, Dobbs pulled out a sack of food from the saddlebag and laid a blanket on the ground. “Eat up. Yummy picnic made by Parthenia. The kid’s only eight, but she sure knows how to fix food.”
    We nibbled on pimento-cheese sandwiches and deviled eggs, neither of us saying a word, but all the while I observed Dobbs, with her long black hair, wet and pulled back into a ponytail, and her slim legs tucked into sopping wet riding breeches.
    When she stretched out on her back and stared up into the sky, I spoke. “You know how to ride, don’t you?”
    â€œSure. My father taught me a long time ago. He told me that he used to ride all over this property when he was a boy.”
    â€œSo why’d you act like you didn’t know a thing about riding?”
    She kept staring up, and I thought she might not answer. But finally she said, “Just wanted to help take your mind off of things. And I wanted to hear you laugh.”
    She paused, and I said nothing.
    â€œI don’t mean to make light of your tragedy, Perri. Not at all. The Bible says to ‘rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.’ But I’ve grown up watching my parents help people who are hurting inside. And one of the things that seems to bring a little relief to people’s deepest pain is for others just to be there and help get their minds on something else for a while.”
    It struck me later that Dobbs Dillard knew exactly what she was doing. No matter how impetuous she seemed, she had a plan in her overactive imagination. Her plan on that spring day was to make me laugh, and amazingly enough, she succeeded.

CHAPTER
    4
    Dobbs
    Mother always said that I had boundless enthusiasm and a love of the spontaneous. Perhaps that was why I got the idea in my head that Perri needed to come riding with me on the day after the funeral. When I had an idea, I tended to be very convincing, and even though Perri looked at me as if she were seeing the Loch Ness monster when I invited her over that day, she eventually came—and we rode and we laughed and we got so wet in the lake that I knew I couldn’t send her back home looking like a perfectly beautiful drowned rat.
    Cornelius put up the horses for us, and we traipsed back to the house with the water squishing up in our riding boots. “Don’t let Parthenia see us,” I whispered to Perri. “She’ll have a fit.” We left the boots by the back door and climbed the stairs, leaving puddles of muddy water on the tiles and on the wooden stairway.
    â€œYour aunt is gonna kill you for this!” Perri said,