Golden Filly Collection Two

by Lauraine Snelling

  Trish left for the jockey room. She was riding in the first race.

  “How’s it going?” Mandy asked as Trish walked into the locker-lined room. The wall-mounted television was on, as usual, showing past races until the day’s program started.

  Trish shrugged. “Still up and down, I guess. I got to go home for a few days and that helped. And then my best friend came down to shop and sightsee. Now, that was fun.”

  “Good. How’s the racing?”

  “No wins.”

  “Me either. I think some of those big guys got a scam going. They just take turns, if ya know what I mean.” Mandy leaned back in her chair. “’Course, now, if I won once in a while, I probably wouldn’t feel this way.”

  “How long you been racing?”

  “Four years. Started out on the fair circuit and last year moved up to the big time at Bay Meadows. I’ll try my luck at Golden Gate Fields this year too.”

  “You ever think of quitting?”

  “You kidding? About every time I get tossed. One time I was laid up for a month; thought about it lots then. But I make a decent living and I’m doing what I like best.” She took a brush out of her bag and started brushing her hair. “Besides, I don’t have training for anything else.”

  “Did you go to college?”

  Mandy shook her head. “College? Honey, I never made it through high school. Finally went back and got my GED. I wasn’t kidding when I said I went downhill for a time. A hard time.”

  She turned and leaned her hip against the counter. “You hang in there, kid.” She waved her hairbrush for emphasis. “You’ve been at the top. You’ll get there again.”

  “Wish I could be so sure.”

  And Trish felt even more unsure after the first race. She and her mount started out well. The trainer said the colt liked to be in front so Trish got him out and kept him there. But the pace was fast and the colt gave up when another horse caught up with him.

  While the trainer was happy with a show, Trish wasn’t. “You did a fine job with him,” the young man said. He led his horse away and Trish followed the other jockeys back under the stands and out to the jockey rooms. At least now she could head for the beach.

  When David suggested driving into San Francisco, Trish shook her head. “I’ve gotta study. I was hoping you’d help me again. We could go to the beach.” She smacked herself on the forehead. “Ah, no. I’ve got one more lab to make up. This afternoon’s it. You could help me do my lab!”

  “Right. Think I’ll go into the city while you’re at school. I’ll help you again tonight when I get back.”

  “Oh, David.” The cloud that hid her sun looked like rain.

  Chapter

  12

  Who screamed?

  Trish blinked. She’d been sound asleep, but someone had screamed. She listened, every nerve ending taut. Was it someone in the house?

  Nothing. She cleared her throat; it was hot and raw. Was it she who had screamed? When she thought about it, the screaming had been going on for a long time—or so it seemed.

  She swallowed again. Water…a glass of water would help. She raised her head and checked out the corners of the room, all the places she could see, anyway, in the light that filtered through the eucalyptus branches outside the deck.

  The glow from the streetlights flickered. It must be blowing out there. Had the scream come from outside?

  For a moment she wished she had closed the drapes. But there was nothing to be seen. She sat up and swung her feet to the floor. It must have been her. Had she screamed out loud? Had anyone heard her?

  Surely they would come if they had. She tiptoed into the bathroom and filled a glass with water. After the first few swallows she could slow down and sip it.

  She rubbed her throat. It hurt.

  When she crawled back in bed, she was afraid to close her eyes. It had been a dream. She had been screaming in the dream, but about what?

  When she closed her eyes to remember, the scene flashed right back. Spitfire ran away from her. The more she called him, the faster he ran away. All the other horses too. Firefly, Gatesby, Sarah’s Pride, even Miss Tee and Double Diamond. All of them were running away.

  She caught her breath. Dan’l, old gray Dan’l. She wanted to call to him but he was running after the others.

  N-o-o! She sat bolt upright in bed. Tears streamed down her face. She turned on the light and reached for a tissue. What did it all mean?

  When her heart finally resumed its normal beat, she lay back down. A long time ago she’d learned to say the name of Jesus over and over when she had a nightmare.

  “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.” She let her eyes drift closed. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. She could feel her muscles relax. First in her neck and shoulders, then down her arms. She inhaled and held the breath. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. When she let the breath out, she felt like she was sinking into the mattress.

  Thank you, Father. I was so scared. Thank you for being right here with me. Amen.

  Trish struggled up out of sleep again, but this time she knew the sound. Her alarm. She reached over and hit the snooze button.

  She still felt like a field of fourteen Thoroughbreds had used her body for a track when the alarm buzzed again. If she didn’t get going now, she wouldn’t get a shower, and if she didn’t get a shower, she wouldn’t make it to the track. She dragged her loudly protesting body out of bed and, after turning on the shower, stood under the pounding water until she could think.

  What had the dream meant? In the Bible God used dreams to tell people things. Was He doing that now with her?

  She thought back to the night before. David had helped her with her chemistry again. She’d fallen asleep asking God to help her make a decision. That was it. To quit or not to quit.

  Her head ached. Along with most of the rest of her body.

  She didn’t feel a whole lot better by the time she arrived at the track but at least she was moving.

  Dense fog muffled the morning sounds of the track. The cold mist only added to Trish’s feeling of confusion.

  “Let’s wait a bit before we take the first one out,” Adam said when she joined him and David at the stalls.

  “Yeah, I love this sunny California,” David said, shivering beside them. He’d brought his own car today in case he decided to do something different. “This is colder than winter at home.”

  “If we were across the bay, on the other side of the hills, there’d be no fog at all.” Adam stuck his hands in his pockets. “Clear as a bell with the sun pinking the sky behind Mount Diablo.”

  “You’re kidding. Let’s go there.”

  “No racetrack out there either.” Trish tucked her chin down into her jacket collar.

  “Coffee’s hot. Come on.” Adam led the way back to the office.

  Trish accepted a mug and wrapped both her hands around it. While she didn’t much care for coffee, it was good for warming hands. She added a spoonful of sugar and two of mocha-flavored creamer. The closer it came to hot chocolate, the better she liked it.

  But the hot drink didn’t help much out on the track. Dawn lightened the sky so that the fog floated more dingy white than gray. The jingle of gear, people’s voices, and horses snorting still sounded hollow.

  The wind sneaked around Trish’s neck and up her cuffs, any place it could get in to chill her body. She poured herself a second cup of coffee between mounts. And this was August.

  But by the time they were finished, the sun shone bright and the track slipped back into its usual cheery morning atmosphere. All except for Trish. She listened to the others discuss the training schedule and how the horses had done.

  Adam and Carlos debated the relative merits of one race over another for one of the horses. David cleaned up the last of the bagels.

  Trish was just leaving to go to the car to pick up her chemistry books when her agent called. Adam handed her the phone.

  “I wanted to make sure you heard that the horse you were riding this afternoon was scratched
,” he said.

  “Great.” Trish couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice.

  “Sorry. Talk to you later.”

  Trish hung up the phone and, at the question on David’s face, told him what had happened.

  “I could spend the afternoon at the beach if we didn’t have that gelding running.”

  “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Or we could go into San Francisco.”

  “You have to study. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I know. You want to help me?”

  “For a while. Then I need to go shopping. You and Rhonda aren’t the only ones who need school clothes.”

  “You’ll live in shorts most of the year. I heard it can get pretty hot there.” Trish got herself a bottle of water out of the fridge. “You want to study here or at the condo?”

  That afternoon Trish returned to the track in time for the fifth race. She walked with Adam and David over to the grandstands, where they all leaned on the rail.

  The sun beat down hot on their heads and shoulders.

  “Hard to believe the chill of the fog this morning, and hot like this now,” David commented after wiping the sweat off his face for the second time.

  “The paper said it was 115 in Phoenix yesterday.” Adam wiped his forehead too.

  David groaned. “And Tucson is farther south. Thank God for air conditioning.”

  Trish listened to their conversation with only half an ear. When the bugle called for parade to post, she watched for number four. Gimme-yourheart trotted out on the track.

  “I hate his name,” she muttered as the gelding crossed in front of them.

  “You don’t have to like it. They call him Sam for short,” David reminded her. “Just hope he wins so we start recouping our investment.”

  “If you want him to win, I better leave.”

  “Trish.” David poked her with his elbow.

  Trish gave him an I-told-you-so look when Gimmeyourheart came in sixth. “Well, Carlos, I sure hope you’re right about what that beast can become. Looks to me like he needs a long vacation.” Kinda like me. The thought galloped through her mind.

  “You wait.” Carlos turned from the rail with the rest of them. “When you ride him tomorrow, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

  Trish could see the fog rolling over the tops of the coastal hills as they left the track. The fog was coming back over the land and into her heart.

  You better get a smile on your face before your mother sees you, her nagger whispered. Trish slammed the door on her mind at the same time she slammed the door of her car.

  She felt the good old tears congregating as soon as she saw her mother’s face in the crowd. And when Marge’s eyes held the same telltale sheen, Trish gave up. They held each other close and then wiped their eyes at the same time.

  “Come on, you two crybabies. I’m starved.” David took his mother’s bag and nodded toward the exit.

  But when Trish looked up at him, she caught him blinking too.

  “You look all grown up in that outfit,” Marge said as they crossed the skywalk to the short-term parking lot. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” Trish glanced down at the rust silk blouse. “I love the feel of silk. Now I know why people rave about it all the time.”

  “Yeah, but the dry-cleaning bills are atrocious.”

  “No, this is washable. The tag says so. Rhonda and I wouldn’t have gotten them otherwise. You should stay long enough so we can go shopping.”

  Marge looked to David walking beside her. “Is this our Trish, or did you bring a substitute?”

  “Mother.” Trish squeezed her mom’s arm. “Even I can grow up. And besides, the Stanford Mall is something else.”

  Trish pointed out landmarks as they drove to a restaurant high on the hill overlooking the entire bay. So far the clouds remained to the west, so they enjoyed the lights coming on around the bay. The San Mateo bridge arched high on the west side and then down to water level, crossing the bay like a belt with a fancy buckle.

  “Okay, what’s happening?” Marge asked after they’d enjoyed their dinner and conversation.

  “Trish still says if she loses tomorrow, she’s quitting.”

  “Thank you, David.” She wanted to kick him in the shins.

  “Want to talk about it?” Marge asked gently.

  Trish shook her head but the words came anyway. “I just can’t stand losing all the time. I’ve been wondering if this is God’s way of telling me to quit; maybe only a year, but for now. I hate the word quit. I could think of it as time off.”

  “I’ve been praying about this too.” Marge patted Trish’s hand. “I remember your dad saying how he always felt you had a gift for animals, especially horses. He really believed that you had all the attributes of a top-notch jockey. Sometimes I thought it was just a dream of his, but when you did so well I began to believe him.” She traced around the top of her water glass. “And now I believe you are a good jockey going through a terrible time. But more than a jockey, you are my daughter. And you are becoming an adult.” She reached out to clasp Trish’s hand. “All I know for certain is that that will never change. You must make the decision. I won’t make it for you. But whatever you decide, we’ll live with it.”

  “All these races that I’ve prayed to win, and now what?”

  “Would you trade a minute of it?” When Trish shook her head, Marge smiled. “How about we share a dessert?” The waiter returned to fill the coffee cups and Trish’s iced tea. At their nods, she asked the waiter to bring the dessert tray.

  “Let’s get two,” David said when he saw the fancy desserts.

  They settled on a tart with raspberries and kiwi fruit on top and cheesecake with fresh strawberries. Trish looked longingly at the mud pie but gave it up. The piece was so huge it could have been a whole meal.

  As they each took bites from both desserts, Trish brought up her dream from the night before. “It was so strange; all the horses kept running away from me. Even Spitfire. I cried and cried for him to come back but it was like he couldn’t.”

  Marge leaned on her elbows on the table. “Sounds to me like it has something to do with racing. How did you feel?”

  “Afraid. Mad. Like crying. I was crying in the dream.” Trish nibbled on one of the raspberries. “It was like they were all mad at me.”

  “Sure.” David snorted. “‘Cause you’d quit racing.”

  “But I haven’t quit yet.”

  “But you might. Who knows. It was just a dream anyway.”

  “You can pray for an answer to the dream too, you know,” Marge said. “Oh, and by the way, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” Trish waited while her mother dug in her purse. “Here.” Marge handed Trish an envelope.

  Trish opened it and drew out a packet of three-by-five cards. The top was in her father’s handwriting. She flipped through them, the tears blurring her eyes. Some were in her handwriting. All of them were Bible verses, the verses that had covered her wall. The verses she had thrown in the trash.

  “Oh, Mom.” She threw her arms around her mother. “How come you’re so smart? I felt terrible about throwing them away.”

  “I knew you would—someday. When I was dumping the trash, I found them. If you didn’t want them, I did.”

  That night, kneeling beside her bed, Trish changed her prayer. Up to then it had always been, “God, what do I do?” Now she prayed, “Father, not my will but yours. Whatever you want me to do, that’s what I want.”

  Just before she fell asleep, she was sure she heard her nagger give a deep sigh. Was it approval?

  She awoke to butterflies but they calmed down during morning works. She and Firefly trotted around the track like this wasn’t a big day, just an ordinary one.

  When Trish began her warm-up routine before the race, the butterflies flipped cartwheels along with her hamstring stretches. They fluttered up into her throat when she laid her head on her knees. But they were flying in formation wh
en she stood beside David and Adam in the saddling paddock.

  “Riders up,” the announcer called over the loudspeaker.

  Trish blinked her eyes as David boosted her into the saddle. Firefly snorted and pawed one front hoof. The sights and sounds around them receded like the fog in the morning. Trish looked from David to her mother to Adam. They all seemed to shimmer in a sea of peace, surrounded by a halo of light in the shadowed stalls.

  The bugle notes echoed from outside. The parade to post. Would this be her last one?

  Your will, Father, your will.

  Her mother’s smile said I love you. Words weren’t necessary.

  “You can do it, Tee.” David gripped her knee. He too was saying I love you in the best way he knew how.

  “Just do your best.” Adam backed the filly up and led her out to the pony rider.

  Trish could hear the announcer introducing the horses as they trotted into the sunshine from under the stands. The roar of the crowd set Firefly to dancing.

  “You love it, don’t ya, girl?” Trish waved to the stands and stroked the filly’s arched neck. She felt like laughing out loud. What an incredibly wonderful, beautiful day! A song from Bible camp ran through her mind: Rise and shine, and give God the glory, glory.… The tune made her want to sing and dance.

  The filly did it for her. They entered the starting gate, all seven horses without a slip-up. Trish and Firefly settled for the break.

  The gates flew open and they were off. The field bunched together and didn’t start stringing out until the first turn. Firefly ran easily with two other horses, Trish letting one set the pace with Firefly hanging to the right and just off the pace. Going down the backstretch, the three ran four lengths in front of the rest of the field.

  Trish crooned her love song into the filly’s ears as they went into the far turn. Soon it would be time to make their move. The horse behind them pulled even as they came out of the turn. The jockey in front went to the whip.

  “Now! Let’s go, Firefly.” The filly lengthened out. She gained on the front-runner, stride by stride. The horse on her right dropped off. With a furlong to go, they ran neck and neck.