Callie’s eyes stung with tears.
Luke returned to her side, set Serena down and put an arm around Callie.
The pageant was over.
People drifted out, in search of refreshments, but there were still a great many waiting to congratulate Kristen and the other girls. Long after Luke and Serena had gone to eat cookies and drink punch, Callie waited.
When her turn came, she hugged Kristen.
Kristen smiled, wiping away tears. “You’ll be at the rodeo tomorrow, won’t you?” she said. “You’ll bring Serena?”
Callie nodded. “We wouldn’t miss it,” she replied.
THE NEXT DAY, LUKE CAME BY early, pulling a horse trailer behind his truck.
Puzzled, Callie went out to meet him, clad in a bathrobe, her just-washed hair still wrapped in a towel. Serena hadn’t even gotten out of bed.
Luke greeted her with a kiss and headed into the barn.
Callie followed. “What are you doing?”
“Taking Mahjong over to my place,” he said. “There’s a stall open, now that Bill Ryerson’s gelding is over his leg surgery. Since nature abhors a vacuum, I thought it would be a good idea to move the pony in before it fills up again.”
Callie watched as he opened Mahjong’s stall door, put a halter and lead rope on him, and led him outside, toward the trailer. “Right now?” Callie asked. He’d already taken Dancing Feather, Tiger Lily and Cherokee. Couldn’t this wait?
Luke opened the door of the trailer and lowered the ramp. “Right now,” he said.
“But—”
Luke and Mahjong mounted the ramp together and disappeared into the trailer. “I’ve already cleared it with Serena,” Luke called from inside.
In the next moment, he stood framed in the opening at the back of the trailer, and the sight of him made Callie’s heart squeeze.
“Pick you up at ten-thirty, like we planned?” he asked.
“We’ll be ready,” Callie said. “But I could put coffee on. Rustle up some breakfast—”
“No time,” Luke said, descending the ramp, stowing it, and then closing and latching the trailer door. “I’ve got to unload Mahjong and then check the rodeo stock over at the fairgrounds.” He came to her, kissed her again, smartly and on the run. “See you at ten-thirty.”
And that was it. He was gone.
Callie turned and went back into the house, wondering at the strange ways of men.
Luke was back promptly at ten-thirty, as promised.
He admired Serena’s cowgirl gear, new boots, jeans, a tiny western shirt and a matching hat, bought especially for the occasion. “If I didn’t know better,” he said, “I’d think you were the queen of the rodeo, not Kristen.”
“Silly,” Serena said, beaming.
Taking in Callie’s outfit, jeans and a lacy white top, Luke grinned and shook his head. “You don’t look half bad, either,” he said.
Callie laughed. “Gee, thanks,” she replied.
When they arrived at the fairgrounds, the bleachers were full, and clowns were cavorting in the arena, much to the delight of the crowd. Luke, Callie and Serena had front-row seats, just behind the high fence that protected spectators from bucking broncos and bulls.
Cowboys perched on chute gates, waiting for the first event to begin.
Kristen rode out into the middle of the arena, resplendent in her rodeo queen garb. Her palomino horse, Banjo, pranced proudly beneath her. The rhinestones on her hat dazzled.
And she was leading Mahjong by a long lead rope.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer boomed over the crackly PA system, “may I present Kristen Young, Queen of the Parable Rodeo!”
“What’s Mahjong doing here?” Serena asked.
“I have no idea,” Callie answered, trying, and failing, to catch Luke’s eye.
Kristen, evidently wearing a wireless mike, addressed the crowd. “Will you please rise for the national anthem?”
Everyone stood.
The soloist from the Baptist church sang.
And when the song ended, Kristen rode directly to the fence, covered the mike with one hand and looked directly at Serena.
“I think I’m going to need some help out here,” she whispered earnestly.
Serena’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“You,” Kristen confirmed.
Luke turned to Callie. “Is it okay?” he asked.
Callie thought a moment—Serena had been riding Mahjong regularly for several months now, and she was good at it, and this was the child’s dream—to be a rodeo queen. How could she refuse?
“Okay,” she said, a little nervously.
Serena shrieked with delight.
Luke took her by the hand, led her through the nearest gate into the arena, and lifted her into the new saddle on Mahjong’s back. Kristen kept a firm hand on the lead rope and mouthed a few words of encouragement to Serena.
And then the two of them rode into the middle of the arena.
The crowd roared with delight.
Serena waved proudly.
And Kristen got down from her horse, walked over to Serena and Mahjong, slipped her sash over her head and put it on Serena.
Callie could barely see, she was crying so hard.
Serena—her sweet, brave little Serena—was, for all practical intents and purposes, queen of the rodeo.
Luke returned to the grandstands, took Callie’s hand.
Dreams did come true, Callie thought.
The proof was out there in the arena, seated on a little pony named Mahjong—and standing right beside her.
Dear Reader,
It was truly an honor to be asked to contribute a story for Harlequin’s wonderful More Than Words project, and when I read about Jeanne Greenberg and her stirring fight to give her daughter Sari the highest possible quality of life, I was deeply moved. Learning of all Jeanne has done, not only for her own child but for many others, I stood in awe once again of the power of a mother’s love—and the singular love of a good horse.
I based my tale, Queen of the Rodeo, on Jeanne’s experience, though of course it’s fictional. I offer it to you with a warm and open heart. I hope Callie and Luke, and especially little Serena have touched you, and that they will perhaps also inspire you to take some steps forward—whether as a volunteer, a donor or a fan in the stands. There are so many organizations like SARI that could use your help. Visit www.sari.ca to find out what you can do, or look up a therapeutic riding organization in your area. I’m confident your life will be enriched by the experience.
With love,
Linda Lael Miller
Ruth Renwick
Inside the Dream
Imagine you’re a seventeen-year-old high school student. You’ve worked hard, done well and now you’re about to graduate. Your classmates are looking forward to the graduation festivities, but for you, the prospects do not look promising. In fact, it’s unlikely you will be able to go. There’s nothing in your closet remotely suitable to wear for the occasion, and no money to buy what you need.
It may come as a surprise to some to learn how many students face this dilemma. One of the most important occasions in their young lives is looming, and they’re actually dreading it because they’re probably going to have to miss it. Too many quietly withdraw rather than face the misery and embarrassment of showing up without a dress or tuxedo suitable for the occasion.
Three years ago Ruth Renwick decided to do something about this. A social worker in the Greater Toronto Area’s Peel Region, she was accustomed to helping people in all sorts of troubling situations, so when a fellow worker, Tracey Ciccarelli-Ridsdill, called to ask for help for a single mother whose daughter could not afford to attend her graduation, Ruth went home and ransacked her closets for something suitable. She also provided a corsage, shawl, jewelry and a disposable camera so the girl could take pictures of her graduation.
Helping that girl was the beginning of Inside the Dream, a not-for-profit organization that Ruth se
t up to assist high school graduates in straitened circumstances. Since that day, she has helped hundreds of young people realize their dreams of graduating alongside their peers.
At a special Boutique Day held once a year in May, the students—who have all been referred by a social worker or counselor—turn up to select gowns (from a minimum of three to five choices for each student, “to give them options”), tuxedos, shoes and accessories. Last year, about one hundred students in the area benefited from this service.
Ruth is touched by their stories. Some of the recipients have such low self-esteem that they’re barely able to make eye contact. One girl who was shown a beautiful dress told Ruth, “I don’t deserve that dress,” and eventually selected the plainest one she could find. Ruth put the beautiful dress in a bag and gave it to her social worker for her. Another girl, verbally abused at home, arrived early at a Boutique Day on her way to her part-time job. “We weren’t ready, but she didn’t have much time, so we let her come and choose what she needed,” Ruth says. As she left, the girl told Ruth, “I never had a reason to smile until today.” That girl is now at university.
It’s students like that—“smart kids in need, kids with great potential”—who inspire Ruth to redouble her efforts. She is constantly on the lookout for people who can help her with donations of clothing and accessories, and isn’t the least bit shy about approaching a beautifully dressed woman at a charity event and persuading her to contribute a gown—and to get her friends involved, as well.
As a social worker, Ruth sees all kinds of people in need—so why this particular cause? “I’m a mother,” she says simply. “I know what it means to young people to want to celebrate something they have accomplished. It’s one of the first big events in your life. I want to help them create memories.” And so, with meticulous care, she creates the opportunity for each one of them to be a prince or princess for the day.
Originally from Peru, Ruth had trouble at first believing that there could be such a need in Canada. One mother cried when Ruth took a picture of her with her daughter on graduation day. “She had never had her picture taken with her daughter.”
Janace King-Watson, a social worker who has worked closely with Ruth over the past three years, calls her an “incredible blessing” to families. “She makes the young people feel really special and treats them with such dignity,” she says. She remembers the beaming face of a boy she had never seen smile, who was transformed by his graduation formal wear. “Something happened that day that made all the difference,” she says, noting that many more of the students are now attending their proms as well as graduation, something they were reluctant to do before because they didn’t want to embarrass themselves.
The students who come to the Boutique Day are comfortable because they know all their information is confidential. They are each accompanied by a volunteer “godmother” (for girls) or “godfather” (for boys) to help and advise them. The volunteers take tremendous pride in the successful outcomes of the students, Ruth says. “Look what happened to my boy…or my girl” is a typical reaction.
Volunteers are a big part of the enterprise. They include the hairdresser who styles each girl’s hair before her big event, the person who does makeup, a professional photographer, and a seamstress who does the alterations, as well as the many individuals who run errands and donate clothing, and corporate sponsors who provide everything from snacks and dinners to cosmetics and tickets to various events for the students. A school in the area recently held a drive and donated almost three hundred dresses, and boxes of tuxedos were sent from a boutique in New Jersey that was closing. Ruth uses her Web site to solicit donations, but also to provide help and advice to other communities interested in setting up a similar program.
By persistence and persuasion, Ruth is helping to build precious memories for young people who would otherwise be deprived of a pleasure others take for granted. She wants everyone she meets to become involved. “If you can’t give me anything yourself,” she tells people, “you have friends who might be able to.”
It’s not just a request for help—it’s an invitation to come Inside the Dream.
For more information visit www.insidethedream.org or write to Inside the Dream Formal Attire Program, 3326 Martins Pine Crescent, Mississauga, Ontario L5L lG4 Canada.
SHERRYL WOODS
BLACK TIE AND PROMISES
SHERRYL WOODS
With her roots firmly planted in the South, Sherryl Woods has written many of her more than 100 books in that distinctive setting, whether in her home state of Virginia, her adopted state, Florida, or her much-adored South Carolina. She’s also especially partial to small towns wherever they may be.
A member of Novelists Inc., Sisters in Crime and Romance Writers of America, Sherryl divides her time between her childhood summer home overlooking the Potomac River in Colonial Beach, Virgina, and her oceanfront home in Key Biscayne, Florida, with its lighthouse view. “Wherever I am, if there’s no water in sight, I get a little antsy,” she says.
CHAPTER
ONE
Jodie Fletcher leaned across her desk and studied the earnest expression on Laurie Winston’s face. Though beautiful and popular, Laurie was one of those high school seniors who actually thought more about others than she did about herself. Perhaps it was simply her upbringing, or maybe losing her mother at fifteen had turned Laurie into a more compassionate person. Whatever the explanation, Jodie tended to give more credence to Laurie’s heartfelt pleas than she did to those of the teenager’s self-absorbed classmates.
Okay, there was more to it than that, Jodie admitted to herself. She paid attention because Laurie was Trent Winston’s daughter. A lifetime ago Jodie and Trent had been in a relationship that had been doomed from the start. She’d seen that, even if Trent hadn’t.
Trent had ambitions to make it big in high-end residential construction, and he’d needed a woman by his side who could help him make the climb to the top. Jodie hadn’t been that woman. She’d had zero self-confidence after years of being the less-than-perfect daughter, the less-than-perfect student, the less-than-perfect younger sister. Back then, she hadn’t considered herself an ideal match for anyone, despite Trent’s obvious feelings for her.
In what might have been the most unselfish gesture of her life, she’d ended the relationship, setting Trent free to find someone better suited to help him build his empire than a woman still struggling to find herself. He’d fought for her for a while, but in the end he must have seen the wisdom in her decision because he’d finally stopped calling. A couple of years after the breakup, she’d read about his marriage to Megan Davis, the socialite daughter of multimillionaire Warren Davis, a gorgeous, delicate woman with all the right connections. Only then had Jodie truly moved on.
When she’d joined the staff at Rockingham High School last year, she’d been taken aback when she’d gone through the student records and discovered that Laurie Winston was Trent’s daughter and that he’d been widowed for two years. Every time she encountered Laurie, she avidly looked for traces of Trent in Laurie’s features. Obviously, though, Laurie had inherited her coloring and looks from her mother’s side of the family. Jodie did see a tiny hint of Trent in Laurie’s persistence and in the way she spoke so passionately when she cared about something, like now.
“There has to be something we can do, Ms. Fletcher,” Laurie repeated. “There just has to be. It’s not fair that so many kids miss the prom and all the other graduation activities just because they don’t have anything to wear. It happens every year and it’s wrong.”
Jodie had often thought much the same thing at her old school in a neighboring district, but until this past summer she’d been at a loss as to what could be done. Now she actually had a few ideas, thanks to a friend she’d visited in Canada who was familiar with a program called Inside the Dream that provided clothing, accessories and everything else that was needed to kids who might otherwise have to miss those important senior-year events.
Longtime staff at Rockingham High School told Jodie that as the prom had become more elaborate and expensive, it was no longer within reach for many of the students. More and more young people pretended not to care that they were missing their senior prom. Girls with stars in their eyes, who’d been dreaming of that night ever since they’d started high school, suddenly claimed to have better things to do. The boys, rigid with pride, made their own plans for a guys’ night out and swore it was better than any dumb old dance could ever be.
As a counselor, Jodie had seen the same unspoken heartbreak many times at her previous school, but she was curious about what had made Laurie aware of the dilemma faced by many of her classmates.
“Why is this so important to you?” she asked the teen.
With her pale complexion, there was no mistaking the blush that spread across Laurie’s cheeks. She brushed a strand of silky blond hair back from her face. A diamond tennis bracelet winked on her wrist. “Actually it’s because of Mike,” she admitted. “You know Mike Brentwood, right?”
Since Rockingham High only had a few hundred students, Jodie knew most of them, at least by name. She knew Mike better than most. She nodded. “You and Mike have been dating for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Since we were juniors,” Laurie said.
“So you know his family?”
Laurie nodded.
“Then you’ve known for some time that the expense of a big dance might be more than he could handle,” Jodie suggested.
Mike was one of four kids being raised in a mostly affluent community by a struggling single mom who earned minimum wage. Money was always tight. Jodie knew more than she intended to share with Laurie. She’d already helped to get Mike’s younger sisters and brother free school breakfasts and lunches because they were coming to school hungry too often. Mike had refused any similar help for himself, claiming he got to eat at his after-school job as a busboy at a local restaurant.
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