Blue Ribbons

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  Hailey, her face white, was looking out the window as the plane climbed higher.

  “Let’s go over the raffle baskets.” I pulled out my notes. “Basket one is the iPad, iPad case, and iTunes gift card. Basket two is the gift card to the spa and the collection of ProduX. Basket three is a pair of Pikeurs from Hadfield’s, a pair of Roeckl gloves, and one of those really cool crops. Basket four is the Belle & Bow basket with two pairs of custom bows, a belt, a T-shirt, a saddle pad, a tote bag, and a charm necklace.”

  Hailey looked away from the window. “Those are all good.”

  “Yeah, but basket five is hurting. So far all we have is a bunch of horse treats and a few grooming products. Lame.”

  “What if we make it horse and dog? Like try to get dog treats and dog grooming products, or a gift certificate to the mobile dog grooming place?”

  “Great idea.” I started scribbling. “And maybe a matching horse and dog blanket? Like Bakers or turn-out sheets?”

  “Or at least a really nice halter and a really nice collar?”

  “Brilliant!”

  I started jotting down a plan of action, feeling a bit like Mom when she plots out ideas for a new face cream. “Let’s ask the grooming place for a gift card and The Clothes Horse if they’d do the blankets.” The Clothes Horse made custom blankets for horses and dogs, too, and Mom happened to be a big customer. If my ponies were people, they would need walk-in closets for all their clothes.

  “And if The Clothes Horse doesn’t come through, we could hit up Beval for the halter and collar. Is that all the baskets?”

  “One more, and I was thinking maybe riding lessons for that one. Get Susie to donate a lesson, and maybe Hugo.”

  “Or a free stall at a show,” Hailey suggested.

  “Great idea.”

  “Are we selling tickets at West Salem?”

  “West Salem, Old Lyme, and Montclair. The drawing will be at Montclair.”

  “You’ll probably have two mediums and a small to show if Tyler works out,” Hailey said.

  I shifted in my seat. If we bought Tyler, I’d have him and my other medium, Google Me (barn name Sammy), and my small pony, Playdate (barn name Drizzle). Although I was thirteen, when my birthday fell meant I was actually twelve for my riding age so I could still ride small ponies. But this was my last year with Drizzle. I didn’t really want to talk about what that would be like, having three ponies, since Hailey just had Donald, so I said, “Do you think you can beat Dakota this year?”

  “Uh, yeah, this year Dakota is so going down!”

  Last year Hailey lost the lip sync to Dakota Pearce, a girl we really don’t like. Dakota won just because she dressed and danced like she was a teenager. Some people loved it but it made me cringe.

  “Jane’s getting a new pony, too,” Hailey said. “She was telling me about it while I was waiting for you.”

  “Is she excited?”

  “Not really. It’s another Tommy special.”

  The pilot’s voice came over the cabin: “We’re cruising over D.C. right now and should be landing at Winchester Regional in about twenty minutes.”

  “I might have to hold your hand again,” Hailey said.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Ashburn Farm was in Upperville, Virginia, which was probably the most beautiful horse country in the whole world. Or at least the most beautiful I’d ever seen. Miles of green pastures, towering oak trees, and stone walls. It was also prime foxhunting country so you could see the hunt jumps—stone walls and log piles—on the fence lines between the farms. The trainer at Ashburn, Judy Ford, had been turning out top ponies for decades. She was a short, perky woman with a thick southern accent.

  “Welcome, y’all!” she called to us as we got out of the rental car and came into the barn. “We’re just getting Tyler tacked up.”

  Tyler was inside the barn on the crossties. Even just standing there, he was gorgeous. Beautiful shiny coat, cresty neck, and wise eyes. He turned his head to look at us and it was like he was checking us out, seeing if we were worthy of owning him. The groom put Tyler’s bridle on and led him out to the ring. Bethany Sowles, Tyler’s owner, was already in the ring, riding a horse. She was one of the best pony jocks in the country and I’d watched her win on Tyler and her other ponies many times. She brought the horse she was on down to a walk and Judy told her to come get on Tyler.

  “Y’all know Bethany?” Judy asked us.

  “Yes,” Mom said. “Nice to see you again.”

  Hailey and I said at practically the same time, “Hi!” and then looked at each other and giggled.

  Bethany was definitely too tall for Tyler—her legs almost reached past his belly. When she picked up a trot, it felt like we all—Susie, Mom, Hailey, and me—took a deep breath. Tyler was an awesome mover. He barely flexed his knees at all, his toes gliding across the ground. He always won the under saddles, but unlike many ponies who were good movers, he jumped amazingly, too.

  If Tyler had been green or unknown, we would have wanted to watch him do a lot, but we’d seen him go plenty at the shows. Bethany jumped one course and then she came into the middle of the ring and hopped off. She slid off her saddle and held Tyler while Susie and I put on my saddle.

  “You’re going to love him,” Bethany said. “I’m going to miss him so much. You’ll win everything on him.” She said it like it was already set that we were buying him.

  Susie gave me a leg up and I tightened my girth. Tyler felt big for a medium pony, bigger than my other medium, Sammy. “Just trot around a bit, and get used to him,” Susie told me.

  I shortened my reins and picked up a trot. My shoulders felt tight and I tried to tell myself to relax. I hated that Bethany was watching. But soon I pretty much forgot about her. Tyler had the nicest trot and his canter was like sitting on a cloud. He was so smooth and comfortable. He also carried his head and neck in just the right spot, not too low and not too high. I didn’t have to work at all to get him framed up.

  “Looks good,” Susie said. “How’s he feel?”

  “Really nice,” I answered.

  Susie changed one of the jumps to a cross-rail and told me to start over it. Tyler was just as smooth to the jumps. His pace never changed, which made it easy to find the distances. Usually it took me a little while to get used to a pony and to put in a good round, but the first course I jumped with Tyler felt like it could have won at any big show. In the air over the jumps he was slow and smooth, and getting down the lines was easy because he had a big stride.

  Susie had me jump two more courses. It wasn’t a fluke—those were just as good as the first. But instead of feeling excited, I felt like I was an actress in a movie about a girl who’s excited because she’s getting the pony of her dreams.

  “Great job riding him,” Susie said. “Do you want to do any more or do you think you’ve gotten a good sense of him?”

  “I think I’m okay,” I said. “He seems really straightforward.”

  “You look beautiful on him,” Judy said.

  I looked over to where Mom and Hailey were standing at the side of the ring. Hailey was a wisp of a girl, really small and skinny. She hated being small because everyone always assumed she was younger than her age. Sometimes people even asked if she was my little sister because we both had the same medium brown hair color. But Hailey made up for her small size with her big personality.

  Mom was beaming at me. She looked perfectly healthy. Her hair was thick and shiny and for a mom she wore pretty cool clothes. Today she wore designer jeans and a flowy black shirt. No one would know she was sick. Cancer was like that—it ate you from the inside out.

  I forced myself to smile back and tried to tell myself that I was crazy for not wanting Tyler. I had hoped that, when I rode him, I’d realize how much I wanted him, but it felt like the opposite was happening. I wanted him even less now that I knew how easy he was to ride.

  I got off and patted him. It w
asn’t like I didn’t like him—of course I liked him. Who wouldn’t like him? It was just that he wasn’t what would save this summer. No pony could do that.

  The groom came to get him and take him into the barn. Hailey and I followed with some carrots Mom had brought.

  “That looked amazing,” Hailey said. “What did it feel like?”

  “It felt really good. He’s got such a huge stride you land into a line and don’t even have to move up at all.”

  Hailey looked back to where Mom and Susie were talking to Judy. “You’re totally getting him. Wow.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We’ll have to see what my mom says.”

  But I already knew. Hailey was right. Mom was talking about setting up a pre-purchase vet exam, wiring the money, and how soon we could get Tyler to the farm. I knew she wanted me to have him before West Salem.

  Hailey kept looking at Tyler, but I was sneaking glances at Mom. I wondered when she would start chemo.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  I went to the Professional Children’s School. Last year I went to a regular private school but Mom decided we should switch to PCS because they were really accommodating to students’ schedules. At my old school, I was sort of special because of my riding, but at PCS everyone was special. There were dancers, singers, musicians, figure skaters, actors, models, athletes. In one classroom you had someone who won an Olympic Medal, someone who played at Carnegie Hall, and someone who just shot a movie with Brad Pitt. And I wasn’t the only rider either. Caitlyn Rogers, who rode with Susie, and does the big eq, went to PCS. And so did Olivia Martin, who rode with Hugo Fines and with whom I showed against in the ponies.

  Most weekdays Mom picked me up and we drove out to the barn. Sometimes, if Mom had meetings, my babysitter, Lauren, drove me. Dad didn’t drive me much except on weekends because he had to be at the office. On weekends we were usually at our other house in Darien. After Mom sold ProduX, I overheard her telling Dad he should quit his job as a patent attorney if he wanted to. She said plenty of people in their sixties retire and start doing things they always wanted to do.

  “I like my work,” Dad had said.

  “But you could do anything you wanted now,” Mom had replied.

  Dad smiled. “I think I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, thank you.”

  When Mom got sick the first time, he suggested he quit so he could be around for her 24/7. That time she said no way was he quitting.

  It’s a fifty-minute drive to the barn if there was no traffic and I usually did some of my homework in the car.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said as I jumped into the passenger seat.

  “Good day?” she asked.

  “Fine.” That was about all there ever was to say about school, unless I was complaining about a test. I didn’t have many close friends at school, but that wasn’t the biggest deal because going to PCS wasn’t about making or having friends. It was about getting what you had to get done so you could live your other life. Olivia was probably my best friend at school and once we were out of school she would much rather hang out with the kids at her barn, and I’d much rather hang out with Hailey and Jane.

  “Are you excited?” Mom asked.

  Tyler had arrived at the farm the day before. We’d let him rest from the trip from Virginia, but today I was going to ride him. Jane’s new pony was arriving, too, so it was going to be a busy day.

  “Definitely,” I said, trying to be that actress in the movie again.

  “I talked to Susie this morning and we both agreed we’ll just see how it goes—no pressure. If you ride him as well as you did when we tried him, you’ll show him at West Salem, but if not, there’s no rush, we have the whole summer.”

  Before I thought about it, I blurted out, “If there’s no rush, then why did you kill yourself to get him here so fast?” I regretted how ungrateful I sounded, but more than that I regretted the words I’d used—kill yourself. When your mom had cancer, throwing around phrases like ‘kill yourself’ or ‘I’d rather die’ wasn’t recommended.

  “Regan,” Mom said sharply. “I got him here so fast for you.”

  We were quiet for a while before I decided to ask, “Do you have to have more chemo, or another surgery?” The words spilled out, surprising even me that I’d said them. So much for the benefits of remaining in the dark.

  Mom glanced sideways at me and then quickly back to the road. “How did you know it’s back?”

  “I have ears.”

  She sighed. “We’re not sure about the treatment yet. I have to have another CT scan.”

  “Were you just not going to tell me?”

  “Of course I was going to, honey.”

  “And now you’re going to tell me it’s no big deal, right?”

  Mom checked her side-mirror and then switched lanes. “No, I’m going to tell you I’m going to be fine.”

  That was Mom’s attitude on everything—if anyone could do it, she could. Start a successful business—check. Sell business for millions—check. Find man to marry—check. Have child at age 43—check. Beat cancer . . .

  “But I read on the internet that sometimes when cancer comes back it’s worse than before.” I still didn’t quite understand how you could even get the kind of cancer Mom had again when she’d had everything removed that had cancer in it. Her first surgery had taken out her ovaries, uterus, fallopian tubes, cervix—everything you saw on that inside-of-a-woman diagram in human development class. But I guess the cancer was like dogs you hear about that get separated from their owners on a trip and somehow make it home months later, having traveled thousands of miles to get back.

  “Listen to you, all gloom and doom. And sometimes it just needs one more quick dose to knock it back for good. I beat this once and I’ll beat it again. Will you promise me you’ll stop googling ovarian cancer?”

  “I googled ovarian cancer recurrence,” I said.

  “Stop googling period!”

  I glanced at Mom. After the chemo her hair had grown back kind of different. It had a curl to it now. She also kept it much shorter—it reached just barely past her ears where before the cancer it had been shoulder-length. If it had been me, I would have grown it back as long as possible just to prove I could. But it was like Mom knew that it was just a matter of time before she would lose it again.

  Chapter 7

  * * *

  When we got to the barn, Mom headed right to Tyler’s stall. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked when I didn’t follow.

  “I’m just gonna throw my stuff in the tack room first.”

  “Okay.”

  Jane was in the tack room, putting away clean saddle pads. “Tyler’s so beautiful! You’re so lucky!”

  “Thanks,” I said. Although I didn’t feel lucky. How could anyone whose mother had cancer be considered lucky? I was the complete opposite of lucky, actually. There was a poster somewhere of a girl sitting next to her mother getting chemo and underneath it were the words: COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF LUCKY. But Jane didn’t know the cancer was back.

  “I bet you can’t wait to ride him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can’t wait to see him go.”

  I tried to change the subject. “You’re getting another pony today, too, right?”

  Jane made a face. “Dad says he’s nice, but he always says that.”

  “You must miss Ike.”

  “Yeah,” Jane said, not meeting my eye. “I mean it would have been awesome to have him for the summer . . . or part of the summer anyway.”

  “Hailey’s not here yet?” I asked.

  Jane shook her head. Hailey went to a public school a few towns over and didn’t get out until three-thirty. And on Tuesday and Thursday she didn’t come to the barn at all because she had her voice lessons. I hated those days. Lessons were no fun without her.

  “I guess I’m going to go see Tyler,” I told Jane. “See you in the ring.”

  It was time to start being the movie actress again. I�
�d decided it was a TV movie, probably on the Disney Channel. Mom had a friend who produced those kinds of movies. Like any other horse movie, they would get all the horse stuff wrong. Like the pony who would play Tyler, the ultimate show pony, would be a skinny Arab with a dish face. And they’d have him wearing a Western rope halter. That kind of stuff drove Hailey, Jane and me crazy.

  Mom was still at Tyler’s stall talking to Martha. Susie had different grooms that worked for her, but Martha worked only for us. Mom said it was better for our ponies to always get full attention. All I could say is it was a good thing I loved Martha.

  “Martha says he’s really sweet and very clean in his stall,” Mom informed me.

  “Great,” I said, trying to perfect my TV movie girl smile. TVMG would care about every little cute thing Tyler did, even where he pooped in his stall.

  “Hi, Martha,” I said.

  “He’s beautiful, Regan,” she said. “You are one lucky girl.”

  “I know,” I said, not sure how many more times in one day I could stand to be told I was lucky.

  I hadn’t even looked at Tyler yet and I turned toward him. If Hailey or Jane were me, they would have felt something powerful when they looked at him. They would have felt like owning him was a dream come true. TVMG would run to him, wrap her arms around him, and breathe in the smell of his fur. TVMG would imagine all the blue ribbons they would win. But when I looked at him I didn’t feel anything but a little sad. We were like those arranged marriages you read about in books about long ago times, or other countries. Forced together and not in love.