Golden Filly Collection Two (82 page)

By the time they left the restaurant, it was too late to do more than head back to BlueMist. The golden harvest moon sailed above the tops of the trees, gilding branches and rooftops and casting deep shadows.

“Wish you could stay here.” Red took her hand in his.

“I’ve thought about it. The Shipsons invited me too.” The warm fuzzies inched up her arm and around her heart. Was this what love felt like?

“And?”

“And I have to go home. Mom needs me, and so does Runnin’ On Farm. Besides, I want to graduate with my class.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

“But you’ll come back?”

“Of course. But I’ve got a lot of races to run out there, you know.” She smiled up at him. “You could come west and ride.”

“It would have to be California.”

“I know. Portland doesn’t pay very well. But the Meadows has been good to me.”

Red snorted.

Trish knew he was thinking about the mess at the track when she’d been shot at. “But that’s all over now.”

“Sure.” He snorted again.

The thought of The Jerk snapped her head up from its resting place. “We’re going to get him.” She put all the confidence she could into her reply.

“It better be soon.” Red kissed her good-night and hugged her close. “I gotta admit I worry about you. Please be careful, will you?”

Trish nodded against his shoulder. Why did saying good-bye always make her eyes water?

He dropped another kiss on her nose before opening the door to the mansion for her. “See ya.”

She watched him jump down the steps and jog to his pickup. When the taillights disappeared down the drive, she entered the house and shut the door behind her. Major sniffing all the way up the stairs kept the tears at bay.

Trish stood in Spitfire’s stall the next morning, fighting back the tears, glad Timmy had thought to leave them alone. Saying good-bye to him was never easy. “I know I’ll see you again in a few months, so you just behave yourself, you hear?”

Spitfire nodded. He nosed her pocket for the carrot he smelled and blew carrot perfume in her face while he munched. It was when she left the stall that he kicked up a fuss. He snorted and stamped his front feet, then let out a piercing shriek.

Two other stallions answered him from inside the barn and another from his paddock outside.

“Knock it off, you goof.” Trish returned to the web gate and shook her finger in front of his face. “You know better than that.” Spitfire tried to rub his forehead against her chest, but Trish pushed him away.

“He’ll settle down soon as you’re out the door.” Timmy unhooked the web and entered Spitfire’s stall. “You take care of yourself now, lass.”

“You suppose he knows I’m leaving for Vancouver?”

“I believe he understands a lot more than we give him credit for.” Timmy smoothed the stallion’s mane. “Have a good trip.”

Saying good-bye to BlueMist was getting harder each time. Trish kept reminding herself she was lucky to have two—no, three, when you include California—places to call home.

“You’ll come again—soon?” Bernice reached over the back of the seat of the Cadillac and patted Trish’s knee. “Since you’re now our daughter too, we’ll just have to bribe Marge to let us have you more often.”

“You could attend college here in Kentucky, you know.” Donald caught her eye from his rearview mirror.

Trish grimaced at the thought. “I’m not sure about college. I know my mom plans for me to go next fall, but I’d rather ride. I can go back to college any time.”

“Or part time. Some of the jockeys do that.” Bernice turned in her seat so she could see Trish.

“It’s hard to know what to do.”

“Rest assured, God will let you know, if you ask.” She rested one arm on the back of the burgundy leather seat. “And, my dear, you certainly have all kinds of options.”

Trish nodded. “I know.” She knew this discussion would be coming up at home and her mother would
not
be as understanding. To Marge, education was
the
most important thing, right up there next to faith. No matter how much her mother was now involved in the horses and managing Runnin’ On Farm, changing her views on college would be like stopping the mighty Columbia River with one hand.

In fact, the college discussion came up the next evening. After attending church in the morning, Trish spent the afternoon at the track. Now she was sitting in her father’s recliner in front of a blazing fire in the fieldstone fireplace that covered most of one wall in the living room. Brad Williams lay stretched out on the floor, studying for one of his college classes. Rhonda Seabolt, queen of the couch, was pushing her flyaway red hair back so she could wrap a band around it. Her government book lay open in her cross-legged lap.

Marge brought in cups of hot chocolate and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Now this is as pretty a picture as I’ve seen anywhere.” She offered the tray to each of the kids.

“Been a long time, hasn’t it?” Brad pushed himself upright and took a cup along with a handful of cookies. “Thanks, Mrs. E. You sure know the way to a man’s heart.”

“Sure. Give you cookies and you’ll do anything.” Trish snapped her book shut and set it on the end table. This was one of those times when she felt sure if she turned her head quick enough, she’d see her father standing right behind her chair—or rather
his
chair. She could almost feel his hand on her shoulder.

“You talked to David lately?” Brad asked around a mouthful of cookie.

Trish could tell that, as usual, they were all on the same wavelength. The four teens—Trish, David, Brad, and Rhonda—had been inseparable for all their growing-up years. That’s why Marge called them her “Four Musketeers.”

“He’ll be home for Thanksgiving. Says he loves college in Tucson.” Marge took her place in her rocker.

“I’m thinking of going there next year.” Brad dropped his bombshell into the peace and watched it explode.

“You are!” Trish and Rhonda could have been one person.

“The more I think about it, the more I’d like to become a vet too. David and I could build a practice together.” He popped another cookie in his mouth.

Trish and Rhonda swapped startled looks. “But you never…” “I thought you…” Their comments overlapped. Trish set her mug down and leaned forward.

“All right, buddy. When did this all come about?”

“Just lately. I really like helping Patrick with the horses, like I always have, and yet I can’t see myself as a trainer.”

“So you decided on veterinary.”

“With a specialty in horses.” He wrapped both arms around his bent knees. “I’m sending off my application tomorrow.”

“Speaking of applications…” Marge gave Trish one of those this-is-your-mother-reminding-you looks that Trish hated.

“I’ve filled out three,” Rhonda said. “Cal-Poly in San Luis Obispo, Washington State University, and Cal State, Davis.” Rhonda chose another cookie from the plate on the coffee table in front of her. “All have good jumping programs. I’ll take my horse right with me.”

All three of them looked at Trish.

“I don’t think I’m going to go to college.” Trish raised her chin slightly in her don’t-mess-with-me look. But her eyes pleaded,
Please understand.

Chapter
06

T
he log in the fire snapped like a rifle shot.

“I don’t think so.” Marge planted her elbows on the arms of the chair. She sucked in a deep breath.

Trish could tell her mother was fighting to keep her cool. Glancing over at Rhonda was a mistake. Her best friend’s head shook back and forth and her eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline. Brad seemed to be counting the threads in the weave of his jeans.

“Anyone for more hot chocolate?” Trish had to clear her throat at the end of the sentence. Marge shot her a glance fit to fry eggs. Brad and Rhonda shook their heads.

“We better be headin’ out.” Brad set his cup on the raised rock hearth in front of the fire, then thought better of it and stood to cross the room, placing his mug carefully on the tray.

“Yeah, yeah, we better.” Rhonda copied his moves.

Chickens! Getting while the getting’s good. See if I ever bail you out of a family hassle again.
But Trish didn’t say it, she just nodded. She got to her feet and followed them to the door.

“Thanks for the treats,” Rhonda called back.

Marge kind of grunted.

“In the morning?” Brad paused.

“Sure,” Marge answered. The one word carried the edge of a newly sharpened knife.

“Thanks for nothing, guys.” Trish muttered to her friends’ retreating backs.

“See you in the morning, like usual?” Rhonda’s question floated back, threading its way through the mist. Rainbows circled the mercury yard light that glinted off the droplets frosting Brad’s metallic blue Mustang.

Trish took in a deep breath of the cold, wet air, wishing she could go anywhere but back to where her mother could be heard clanking cups. She shut the door and returned to the living room. What was that phrase she’d heard, something about a good offense being the only defense? That wasn’t quite right but who cared? Right now she had to deal with a very unhappy mother.

“I know you’re disappointed.” Trish leaned against the cedar-paneled wall.

With the cups clanked into submission in the kitchen, Marge was now attacking the sofa cushions.

“But I know this is the right thing for me to do. And if you tried to see it from my point of view, you’d agree.” Could looks really send daggers?

Marge strode over to the fire and poked until sparks flew up the chimney in fear.

“Mom, stop all this and talk to me.”

She threw in a log, then another.

Trish sat down on the arm of the sofa. Marge now leaned against the mantel, her head resting on her arm.
Dad, where are you? I need you so. Right now.
Trish chewed on her bottom lip. It would be so much easier to just agree with her mother right now. Say, “Sure I’ll go to college.” But the thought made her heart stop.

Can’t you see that I’m first and foremost a jockey? That’s my gift, my calling. And after that I may want to be a trainer, like Dad. Or maybe I’ll ride until I’m fifty.
She stared at the rigid line of her mother’s back.
Or maybe I’ll just…just…

Just what?
even her nagger didn’t seem his usual naggy self.
You have to go with what’s right for you, kid.

Trish blinked her eyes. Had she heard right? What would her father do in a situation like this? She rubbed her sore ribs with one hand and her chin with the other, trying to remember.

Dad had always walked over, put his arms around his wife, and said, “No matter how we decide on this, just remember that I love you.” Trish fought down the boulder that instantly clogged her throat. She ordered one foot to lead the way and the other to follow. One step at a time, as if she were just learning to walk, she crossed the room.

She put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, no matter how much we go round on this, just remember that I love you.” The words started hard and got easier as they went. “I hate fighting and either one of us being angry.”

The shoulder under her hand shuddered. Marge turned, tears caught on the tips of her eyelashes, and she wrapped Trish in a mighty hug.

“Would you consider sending out applications in case you change your mind?” Marge finally asked after they both snagged tissues from the box and blew their noses.

“It would be a waste of their time—and mine. Guess I made the final decision on the plane. I can always go to college later, but my career as a jockey is really building. I should be riding full time now, but I won’t because I promised you I’d give my senior year priority. And that’s what I want to do too.” Trish sank down on the hearth. She watched her mother’s emotions play hide-and-seek with the firelight flickering across her face.

“I can’t say I’m happy about this.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“But I do honor your decision about what to do with your life. Your father and I always said we wouldn’t force our career decisions on you kids. You do what you feel called for. Our job is to see that you have the most information possible to make a wise decision.”