Golden Filly Collection One (41 page)

“At least it’s warmer,” Trish said as she slid into the backseat of the car. “And there’s no wind.”

“True.” Hal pointed at the huge flakes sparkling past the yard light. “Had to warm up to snow.”

It was a candlelight service. Votive candles flickered in the iron sconces spaced along the walls. Tall white tapers banked the platform. Only the Christ candle remained to be lit on the cedar-bough Advent wreath suspended by chains behind the altar. White and gold chrismons and miniature white tree lights adorned the tall fir beside the pulpit.

Trish held her unlit candle while she glanced through the bulletin. All her favorite carols were being included in the service. She slipped her free hand through her father’s arm. This was her most favorite service of the year.

A hush fell, as if all the world were waiting on tiptoe for the Christ Child to come. The organ burst into “Angels We Have Heard on High” and the congregation rose and began to sing as with one voice. Trish sang each “Gloria” sure that the angels couldn’t sound any better. The church was full to overflowing and so was her heart.

Outside after the service, Rhonda handed Trish a package wrapped in Snoopy paper. “Call me after you open your presents.” She leaned close and whispered in Trish’s ear. “Has he guessed yet?”

Trish shook her head. “Not even close.” She gave Rhonda a narrow, flat box wrapped in silver paper. “Merry Christmas.” After hugging Rhonda, she turned to give Brad his present when a snowball splooshed on her shoulder. She ducked the next one, this time from David, handed the package to Brad’s mother, and scooped up the snow from the stair railing. Just as Brad turned, her barely packed snowball caught him on the cheek.

The fight flew fast and furious, quickly involving all the teenagers. Even an adult or two joined in, and those that didn’t cheered for the others.

David and Trish were still puffing when they joined their parents in the car after shouting “Merry Christmas” to everyone.

“Well, having a snowball fight is sure a different way to end the Christmas Eve service.” Trish laughed as she slumped against the backseat and flicked a remaining clump of snow off David.

By morning the snow had stopped falling, but all the fir trees drooped low with its weight. Trish and David hurried through the chores, making sure each horse got a handful of chopped carrots as a treat. Miss Tee preferred a handful of feed.

“Do you think we’ll get more snow?” Trish asked as they slogged their way back up to the house.

“Possibly. Those clouds look mighty heavy.” David kicked his boots against the steps. “Won’t be much moving around today.”

“Good. Let’s hurry so we can open presents.”

Marge had scrambled eggs with bacon and cheese ready when they walked through the door. Steaming mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows were set at each of their places. The sliced round loaf of
Julekage
, Norwegian Christmas bread, was placed in the center of the table, flanked on either side with bright red candles.

“Oh, Mom.” Trish breathed deeply. “This smells wonderful.”

“Wash your hands and we’re all set.” Marge checked the table once more.

Hal bowed his head as they all joined hands. “Heavenly Father, all I can say is thank you. You have given us everything, but most importantly, you’ve given us yourself. Thank you for the food and for each other. Amen.”

Trish squeezed both her mother’s and David’s hands. “Remember the year we got up at three-thirty?”

“And I sent you back to bed with threats of no presents.” Hal shook his head. “I’m sure glad you’ve learned to sleep in.”

The meal couldn’t pass quickly enough for Trish. But she knew the more she tried to hurry them, the slower her parents would be. “I get to be Santa this year.” She gulped the last of her cocoa.

Chapter

04

Y
ou are the slowest people on earth,
Trish thought.

“Patience, Tee.” Hal smiled as he settled back in the comforting arms of his recliner

“Is there any time you
can’t
read my mind?”.

“I’ll never tell. Why don’t you use some of that tamped down energy and throw another log on the fire?”

Trish put two logs on the fire while darting disgusted looks toward the kitchen, where Marge and David dawdled with the dishes—or something.

“Maybe you should bring in a couple more chunks of wood before—”

“Da-ad.”

Hal laughed. “Just kidding.” He held up a hand in a plea for peace. “Come on in here, you two, before Trish has a conniption fit. You’d think something was under the tree for her the way she’s carrying on.”

That’s not the problem this year,
Trish thought.
This time I can’t wait until you open your present from me.
She sank to the floor in front of the tree and hugged her knees. Sparks snapped their way up the chimney from the blazing fire. Strains from “O Holy Night” drifted from the stereo and mingled with the song about eagle’s wings in Trish’s mind.

She watched the gold disks of an ornament catch and reflect the light as it revolved in the heat above a glowing red light bulb. The winged angel at the top seemed to smile right at her. Trish smiled back. This was a good morning for smiling.

“Here we are.” Marge set a tray with steaming cups of hot chocolate on the coffee table. Roly-poly snowmen danced around each mug topped with whipped cream and a candy cane for stirring.

Trish crawled on hands and knees to the table, then sank back on her haunches. She shook her head. “You outdid yourself, Mom. How pretty.”

“I thought we all needed something extra special today.” She carried a mug over to Hal. “Here, dear. Merry Christmas.” She leaned over and kissed him.

Trish watched them over the rim of her mug. The warm glow in the middle of her stomach had nothing to do with the hot chocolate. She hadn’t even sipped it yet.

“Well, let’s begin.” Marge settled herself in her rocking chair and blinked away the tears that threatened to overflow and run down her cheeks. “Trish, let’s start with the oldest first this year.”

Trish searched the name tags for one for her father, then passed a shoebox covered with red and green holly paper to him. The tradition of each person opening a present while the others watched had begun. She planned to save the eagle for last.

David let out a yelp when he opened his first present. “Tires!” He waved the coupon in the air. “I haven’t had time to buy mine yet.”

“Good thing.” Trish laughed along with him.

“Thanks, Mom, Dad.”

Her laughter stopped when she opened a large flat box from her mother and father. “How did you know? Rhonda told you—oh, it’s beautiful.” She held up the turquoise ski jacket with hot pink and white slashes on the sleeves. “Thank you, thank you,” she repeated, hugging the jacket to her chest.

“Sorry you aren’t happier with your present,” Hal teased as he licked his candy cane. “This stuff sure is good, Marge.”

The unopened gifts under the tree dwindled as the wrapping and ribbons littered the floor. Each one had opened several presents until only those for the neighbors were left—plus one. Trish drew the square silver box from behind the tree and carried it to her father.

“No tag?” He turned the box looking for a card.

“It’s from me.” Trish sank down on the hearth and leaned her elbows on her knees.

Hal carefully slit the paper.

“You
could
hurry a bit.”

Please like it,
the little voice inside her whispered.

Her father folded the paper and slit the tape on the heavy cardboard box.

Trish clenched her eyes and hands shut. The rustle of paper forced her to open them again.

Hal carefully lifted the eagle from its packing nest. He turned the burnished wood sculpture each way to look at it from every angle.

“Oh-h-h, Trish.” Marge rose from her chair and knelt beside the recliner. “It’s magnificent!”

Hal pressed his lips together and blinked rapidly. In spite of his efforts, a tear meandered down his cheek. He drew a forefinger across the lifted wing.

“D-do you—um-mm…” Trish studied her father’s face as he studied the eagle.

He likes it, you dummy,
her little voice chanted.
Can’t you tell?

But Trish needed to hear his approval. “Well?” her voice steadied this time.

Hal handed the eagle to Marge and reached both arms for his daughter. “Thank you, Tee,” he said into her hair as he gathered her close to his chest. “Where did you ever find anything so perfect?”

“You—you said that was your favorite verse too.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “And the song, it keeps playing in my head.”

David took the eagle from Marge so he could examine it. “It’s really something. Each feather is carved so perfectly. It looks alive.”

“Remember when we saw the eagle flying up the gorge?” Marge said, taking the bird from David and handing it back to Hal. “Looking at this, I can almost hear it screeching. Thanks, Trish, for something we can all enjoy.”

Trish rested her elbows on the arm of the chair and watched her father study the bird again. A smile flitted from his eyes to mouth and back again. “So wild and free,” he murmured as he finally set his gift on the table by his chair. Light from the brass reading lamp made the burnished wood glow even more.

“Merry Christmas, everyone.” Hal’s smile lingered a bit longer on Trish. “And thank you all.” He stroked the soft wool of the heather green sweater David had given him. “And now, are there any refills on that delicious chocolate, Marge?” He hoisted his mug. “All this makes a man thirsty.” Eyeing the platter of cookies he said, “And hungry.”

“Why don’t you pick up in here, Trish, while I get the refills going?” Marge caught Trish’s glance at the fireplace. “And don’t throw it all in there. We don’t need another chimney fire.”

“That one was David’s fault.” Trish pulled herself to her feet and followed her mother into the kitchen. “Do you think he
really
liked it?” she whispered as she pulled two folded grocery bags from the rack under the sink.

“Oh, Trish, how can you doubt it?” Marge shook her head as she reached to hug her daughter. “He—I almost cried too. The eagle was absolutely perfect.” Marge leaned back so she could look Trish in the eye. “Did it take
all
your money?” she whispered.

Trish shook her head. “Not
all
of it. It’s just a good thing I’ll have more coming from the track next week. But once I saw it, I just
had
to buy it. I’d been praying for that special gift and there it was.” A grin turned up the corners of her mouth. “And besides, it was twenty-five percent off.”

“So you got a bargain, then.” Marge smiled as she filled the teakettle at the sink.

“Well, you taught me to be a careful shopper.” Trish ducked away from the playful swat aimed at her.

After they’d straightened the living room, and the presents were neatly arranged under the tree, Hal finished his hot chocolate and stretched his arms over his head. “How about the two of you letting the horses out in the pasture to play in the snow. They’ll enjoy it as much as you did the snowball fight last night.”

“Miss Tee too?”

“Of course. Give her a taste of winter. And, David, keep an eye on that mare. She isn’t due until about the tenth but she’s a sneaky one. She’ll head for the far corners when she’s ready to foal. I think I’d better keep this chest out of that cold. I’ll help your mother with dinner.”

Marge rolled her eyes. “Thanks a whole lot.”

David and Trish looked at each other and laughed. Everyone knew that Hal was
not
a cook. “See if you can keep from burning the potatoes this time,” Trish called as she headed down the hall to change.

Caesar barked a welcome when they opened the sliding glass door. Puffy snow blanketed the deck and pillowed on the hanging baskets. A blue spot peeked from between the low-flying clouds, but to the west, heavy gray clouds promised more snow.

“We’d better hustle.” David nodded at the sky. “I’ll feed the outside stock while you let the racing string out.” With the collie bounding through the snow beside them, the two followed their early morning tracks to the stables.

“I’ll let Miss Tee out first and then the others.” Trish gave Caesar a push, then tried to leap ahead of him. When he bounded back at her, she tried to sidestep but slipped and fell on her back in the snow. The collie put both feet on her chest and swiped a couple of licks across her nose.

She grabbed his white ruff and rolled him off her. With her laughing and Caesar’s barking, the entire stable erupted with whinnies and hoof slammings.

David quit trying to be heard. He put two fingers in his mouth and blew hard. A piercing whistle split the icy air.

Trish started to giggle. Caesar quickly licked her chin. The giggle turned to a hoot. When she finally quit laughing, she could hardly get her breath. She raised up on her elbows, shaking the snow off her stocking cap. Caesar sat beside her, his tail feathering the snow, and like a perfect gentleman, he extended one paw.

Trish crashed again, overcome by giggles.

Spitfire whinnied, a high, demanding cry for some of the attention she was wasting on the dog.