Golden Filly Collection Two (36 page)

“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 when 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.

“Come on, girl, you can do it.” Trish willed the filly forward. She could see the finish line. “Come on.”

Firefly stretched again. Her hooves and heart thundered together. She inched in front. By a nose, by a neck. They won by a length.

“Thank you, Father!” Trish yelled to the heavens, her whip raised in salute.

She pulled the filly down to a gallop, then a lope, and turned back to the front of the grandstands. To the winner’s circle.

“You did it, girl. I knew you had it in you.” She stroked the filly’s neck.

David got to her first. He thumped on her knee, failing miserably at racing decorum. He led them through the fence and over to the raisers.

Marge and Adam met them in the winner’s circle. Trish sniffed back her tears until she saw her mother’s face, wet with joy.

“Good ride, my dear.” Adam looked up at her and nodded. They lined up around Firefly and posed for the official pictures. The camera flashed. Trish leaped to the ground and more cameras flashed. Trish stepped on the scale, all the while her heart singing,
Give God the glory, glory.

“You sure got your answer,” David said as they walked Trish back to the jockey room for her things.

“Yep, that I did.”

As she came out, a reporter stopped her. “Got a minute, Trish?”

Trish looked at him in surprise. “Sure, why?”

“This is your first win since the Belmont, right?” Trish nodded. “I’ve been following your career,” the young man said. “Think we’ll head this ‘The Comeback Kid.’ You’ve had a hard time and I want you to know I’ve been rooting for you.”

Trish swallowed her state of shock and answered a few more questions.

“Is that right about a possible endorsement for Chrysler?”

“What?” Trish blinked at the question. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I have my sources.” His grin said he wouldn’t tell her.

“Well, it’s news to me.”

“Here’s my card. When you know more, would you give me a call?”

Trish shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

“endorsement!” David choked on the word.

“Yeah, right. He’s got his wires crossed, that’s all. Can we get something to drink? I’m dying.”

That night in bed, Trish thought back to the winner’s circle. It was like she was standing off to the side so she could see everyone there. David held the reins, standing in front of Firefly’s shoulder. Adam, Martha, and Carlos stood behind on the raisers. Just in front of the filly’s head stood her mother, and behind her shoulder, a man with a smile to dim the noon sun.

She could finally picture her father with the family. And what better place than in the winner’s circle?

Monday evening David drove Trish to the College of San Mateo. “Now, I’ll be sitting out here praying for you. Tee, you’re going to do fine. Just remember to ask for help; pray your way through this.”

“But I need a B to get a C out of the class.” Trish clamped her lips on her moan. I’ve got to pray my way through this. She squared her shoulders and marched into the classroom.