Golden Filly Collection One (88 page)
The next day, after morning works, Hal appeared at the barn. “Let’s go get the paper work done, David. We can drive over there. We’ll pay the fees and then scratch later if we have to. Patrick, how does he look?”
“I’ve been using the ultrasound and ice. Think we’ll walk him a little this afternoon to limber him up some; see how badly he limps.”
“I know you’re doing everything you can. What do you think about that maiden race for fillies and mares on Wednesday for Sarah’s Pride? Do you think she’s ready for that caliber of field?”
Patrick thought a moment. “Either that or another claimer. She needs a race pretty soon. Uh-huh, that’d be a good one for her.”
“Well, let’s get over there,” Hal said. “You ready to come now too?” he spoke to Patrick.
As Trish started to climb into the car, Shipson’s trainer, Wayne Connery, stopped her. “We have a filly running this afternoon. Would you like the mount? Are you licensed yet?”
“On my way right now, and I’d love to ride her. What race?”
“Fourth. That okay?”
“Great. See you then.” Trish plunked herself back against the seat. “All right!”
Hal turned to look over his shoulder. “Are you going to be able to wear goggles over that cheek?”
Trish fingered the bandage. “I think so. It won’t be the worst thing I’ve raced with. Glad I’ve been around the track a couple of times.”
Patrick consulted his racing form. “That race is six furlongs. You’ll start halfway up the backstretch. One long, easy turn.”
“Cinch.”
And it was. Trish took the filly into the lead from the first and won going away. She accepted congratulations from the Shipsons and leaped to the ground. The winner’s circle at Belmont sparkled like a movie set. Potted plants bloomed everywhere, and there were brick risers that made it easy to get a crowd in the picture. There was even an awning over the scale.
“I could get to like this,” Trish told David that evening.
Saturday morning Hal suggested they all ride the train into New York City and take a bus tour of Manhattan.
“You sure you feel up to it?” Trish questioned.
“We’ll take it easy. Who knows when we’ll get back to this side of the country.”
Trish looked at her mother, who had the same question in her eyes. Marge nodded.
By the end of the day Trish thought her jaw must be double-hinged, it dropped open so many times. Grand Central Station arched high above them till the ceiling seemed to disappear in the dimness. People rushed every which way to trains, and there were shops along the corridors.
The Grayline bus tour lasted five short hours and took them down Fifth Avenue from Harlem to Battery Park, where they could see the Statue of Liberty in the harbor. They passed Central Park, museums, luxury hotels, and numberless skyscrapers of every description.
“I’ve never seen so many tall buildings,” Trish said in awe.
“That’s because nowhere else
has
this many high-rises.” The tour guide grinned at her. “Only Manhattan Island was formed from a bedrock base strong enough for all the buildings.” From upper to midtown to lower Manhattan the sights continued. Fifth Avenue, Broadway, Rockefeller Center, the famous names rolled off the guide’s tongue.
“That’s where the glittering ball falls on New Year’s Eve.” The guide pointed to a building on Times Square. “You’ve seen it on TV, I’m sure.”
Trish nodded as she craned her neck to see Madison Square Garden. “That’s the entrance?” She couldn’t believe her eyes. All the things she’d heard of happening there, and the front of it looked like a second-rate theater marquee.
At the end of the tour, Trish sighed. “There’s just too much to see here. We need to come back again.”
“We could go to the theater,” Marge said wistfully.
“Or shopping!” Trish enthused. “Wouldn’t Rhonda love to go shopping here?”
David shook his head. “Not me. Where are we going for dinner? I’m starved.”
“You’re always hungry.” Marge poked him in the arm. “Let’s get some bagels and cream cheese for breakfast.”
“Breakfast? You mean we’re skipping dinner?”
“Of course not,” Hal reassured him. “How about pizza? They say New York pizza is like no other.”
Trish flagged a cab down, and after a short ride they found a pizza place.
“That
was
good,” David remarked after everyone had stuffed themselves.
Trish smiled at the grin on her brother’s face. Only food could bring that look. But all the way back on the train she thought about the pills she’d seen her father take throughout the day. Since when did he take so many pills, and what were they all for?
O
n the train returning to Belmont, Hal dozed. He had also napped when the tour bus stopped at St. John’s Cathedral, and again when they toured Chinatown. Trish was glad he had made it through the day. Now he looked as if he had stretched his limit.
The next morning, when Trish and David returned to the hotel after morning works, Hal was up and dressed.
“Dad?” Trish gathered courage to broach the subject that was bothering her.
Hal looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “What is it, Tee? You sound awfully serious.”
“What are all those pills you’ve been taking?”
Hal laid the paper in his lap. “Mostly pain pills.”
Trish felt her heart clench in her chest. “Is it that bad?”
“If I don’t take the pills it is. The doctors told me to be sure to stay on top of it. The body has to fight harder to heal itself when the pain is too severe.”
Trish sank down on the floor beside her father’s chair. “Is that why you sleep so much? The pills make you sleepy?”
“Somewhat. But fighting cancer, or any illness for that matter, takes a lot of energy.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She leaned her head on his knees.
“Oh, Tee. You’ve had so much on your mind lately. The racing, Spitfire’s injury, then the accident. I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
Marge sat down on the arm of the chair. “That’s my job. You both know how good I am at worrying. Besides, taking care of your father gives me something to do.”
Trish smiled. “Isn’t there anything I can do?”
Hal smoothed Trish’s hair, and his love for her warmed her spirit. “Keep praying, Tee. Enjoy the moments we can spend together. We’re all doing what we can. The rest is in God’s hands.”
Trish nodded, but secretly she thought,
Seems to me God isn’t doing too well right now
.
Her nagger cut in,
You haven’t been praying for your dad very much.
Trish had a hard time ignoring that accusation. It was true. She hadn’t been praying consistently, and she hadn’t been reviewing her verses either. Would she
ever
learn?
“What else haven’t you told me?” Trish asked her dad.
Hal was silent until Trish looked up at him. Had he fallen asleep?
“Nothing that I can think of. You know I’ve always tried to be honest with you kids.”
Trish nodded. She knew he had.
“All I know, Tee, is that Jesus promised to never leave us alone. No matter what happens.” He lifted her chin with one finger. “Do you believe that?”
Trish nodded. She couldn’t speak.
“Then we just take one day at a time.”
“Speaking of time—” Marge looked at her watch. “We need to get David to the airport. You coming along, Trish?”
“No, I better hit the books again. There won’t be much time this next week.”
David set his suitcase on a chair. “See you Tuesday, Tee.”
“Yeah. Tell Rhonda hi for me. And Brad. You’ve got his present?”
David nodded. “In the suitcase. Anything else?”
“No. Just have fun for me.”
After her family had left, Trish stared for a long time at her history book without seeing the print. Vancouver seemed so far away. It was hard to believe that she’d really go back to school after the Belmont, like nothing had ever happened. She propped her chin on her knee. Her life had changed in the last few months. Would it ever be the same again? Did she want to go back to her old life?
That night Trish made sure she spent time praying—not just the quickies she’d been saying. She thanked God for taking care of all of them, for guarding them during the accident, for helping them win the two races. When she begged Him to make her dad better again, the tears slipped down her cheeks. “I
need
my dad,” she whispered.
Just before she fell asleep, a new thought came to her mind. Even though she was unhappy with God, it wasn’t like last year. She couldn’t shut Him out. God seemed more real right now.
God was in her first thoughts in the morning too. Trish shook her head. Could she call God sneaky? It seemed to fit. The thought stayed with her all the way to the track.
“Breeze her three furlongs,” Patrick said as he tossed Trish into the saddle on Monday morning. “Don’t let her drift out on you and be sure you pull her down right away.”
“She doesn’t seem to mind the blinders.” Trish stroked the filly’s fiery red neck and smoothed her mane.
“Let’s see what happens if another horse runs with you,” Patrick said. “If all goes okay, we’ll work her out of the starting gate after that.”
Sarah’s Pride seemed to know something was up. She jigged sideways until Patrick demanded she behave. Once on the track, she played crab, trotting sideways again. Trish straightened her out once, then again. The third time she pulled the filly to a stop.
“Now you’re gonna stand here until you can behave.” Trish refused to let up until the filly stood still for an entire minute. Sarah’s Pride got the hint. Trish wasn’t putting up with any more shenanigans.
When Trish turned the filly at the far turn, she nudged her into a jog. With the release of the reins at the mile-and-a-quarter post, the filly leaped forward. She ran straight and true, ignoring the other horses on the track.
“Thatta girl,” Trish chanted as she pulled the horse back to a canter after they’d flashed past Patrick and his stopwatch. Trish didn’t need the grin on Patrick’s face to tell her they’d done well.
The filly snorted and fidgeted in the starting gate. When the gate swung open she reared instead of starting clean. But by the fourth break she settled down. Her twitching ears seemed to focus on Trish’s commands and the break was clean and fast.
“Good girl. That’s the way,” Trish praised her mount.
“I’m thinkin’ one more day at this’ll do it.” Patrick held the reins and removed the hood. “There now. See you back at the barn.”
When she was finished with Sarah’s Pride, Trish led Spitfire clear around the barn and then out to a rail-fenced grassy area by their barn to graze. He walked the distance, head up, eyes bright, without a limp.
“Enjoy.” Trish loosened the lead so Spitfire could put his head down and graze. The sun sparkled on his blue-black hide. The cicadas chorused in the trees while Spitfire munched grass. Somewhere, someone had been mowing grass; the sweet perfume of it floated on the slight breeze. Trish breathed it in. She enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells of Belmont in early summer. Five days to go.
Studying for the rest of the day did not come near the top of Trish’s wish list—but she did it anyway. Finals were scheduled for the week after they got home. She didn’t need her mother to remind her of that.
