Jockey Girl
Page 23
Yolanda’s face crumpled as she tried unsuccessfully to hold back a deluge of tears. “That’d be so, so great!”
That evening, Yolanda packed all her belongings into boxes and drove them over to Parson’s Bridge in her compact car. Mark dropped over as promised, and he and Evie helped carry her things up to the apartment over the garage.
Just as they were unloading Yolanda’s last box, the heavens opened up. The rain came down in sheets, drenching them all in seconds. It pounded so hard that they couldn’t hear each other speak.
Yolanda organized her things into a livable situation and popped into the house before driving back to Woodbine for her guard duties. She joined Mary, Evie, and Mark, who were chatting in the kitchen.
“I feel like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders!” she exclaimed, pouring a second cup of coffee. “Thank you for letting me stay, Mary.”
“My pleasure entirely.”
“Even though it’s raining cats and dogs out there, I feel happy! I had no idea how awful things had become for me at Maple Mills.”
“Thanks to me,” Evie teased. “I got you fired.”
“Let’s not go there,” warned Yolanda. “You owe me, big time!” She tossed a napkin at her playfully.
Mark shook his head. “That was one scary moment when you got fired, Yoyo. Grayson Gibb is not someone I want to meet in an alley.”
“Or anywhere else, if he’s mad,” seconded Evie.
“So totally true.” Yolanda stood up. “Now, I’m off to my night job. Sleep well in your warm bed, Evie, knowing I’m on guard, suffering for you.”
Evie’s eyes twinkled. “As it should be!”
Mark went home soon after Yolanda left, and Mary went back to her writing.
Evie picked up the phone and made a call. “Jordie? It’s Evie. Are you guys okay?”
“Yeah,” answered her little brother. “But I like it better when you’re around. I miss you lots and lots!”
“I miss you lots and lots, too, Jordie.” Evie pictured his earnest face and felt a pang of love for the little boy.
“When can I come see you?”
Evie chuckled. “Are you and Beebee doing anything on Sunday afternoon?”
24
The Ladies’ Room
The next morning, Mary bustled about the little yellow farmhouse as they prepared to leave. She took a sip of hot coffee and asked Evie, “Ready in half an hour?”
“I’m ready now,” said Evie. “I get to tour the jockeys’ room today. I can’t wait. Are my mother’s silks ready?”
“For the tenth time, yes.”
“And what about all the other stuff I’ll need?”
“We’ll sort it out today. Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help but worry!” Evie retorted as she opened the door. “I’m racing in the Queen’s Plate tomorrow!” A howling gust of air rushed in with a spray of cold water. “Unless it’s called off because of rain.”
“It’s never called off except when there’s lightning. And then it’s only delayed, not cancelled.”
Evie saw it first. An envelope had been wedged between the door and the frame. “What’s this?”
“There’s only way to find out,” said Mary. “It’s addressed to you. And it’s soggy.”
Evie paused as she studied the handwriting. Her throat constricted. “It’s from my father. I don’t want to read it.”
Mary’s voice was soft. “Take your time, Evie dear. But you might want to know what’s in it.”
Evie knew she was right. If she didn’t read it now, she’d worry until she did. She closed the door, shutting off the roar of wind and rain. It seemed to Evie that the whole world became silent as she tore open the letter.
Evie read aloud. “‘Dear Evangeline. I fought hard against you racing. The reason is I don’t want you hurt. No Justice is dangerous and has injured many people. Now that it’s final, I accept it with good grace. You’ve proven you’re committed to this sport. I wish you every success in the Queen’s Plate. I’m proud of you. Be careful and stay safe, your loving Father.’”
Evie’s knees buckled and she slid to the floor.
They drove through the downpour, windshield wipers working hard. Evie was confused. She’d been so excited about seeing the jockeys’ room. Now, her mind kept trying to sort out her father’s letter. He’d signed it “your loving father.” He’d said he was proud of her. She wanted so much to believe that! She played back the conversation she’d overheard between him and Jerry in the barn. Was he getting rid of Kazzam so the horse wouldn’t hurt her? His meltdown at the Draw, too. Was he worried about her safety? And his anger that she’d gotten Kazzam qualified to race? It all made sense. Her heart expanded with hope.
Mary glanced at her. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“My father’s letter. I feel so much better. We don’t have to worry about Kazzam anymore.” Saying it out loud made it seem true.
Mary glanced at her. “Hmm.”
“You don’t believe his letter?”
“Do you?”
“I want to. It makes sense if he’s been trying every way he can to stop me from riding Kazzam. I didn’t know until right now that he ever cared!” Evie found herself sobbing.
Mary kept her eyes on the road. As Evie’s sobs subsided, Mary very quietly reached out and held her shoulder. “I have a little story to tell you. About a turtle and a scorpion.”
“You’re kidding.”
“One day, a scorpion needed to cross the river. He couldn’t swim, so he asked a turtle to carry him to the other side. ‘But you’ll bite me and I’ll die,’ said the turtle. ‘I won’t bite you, I promise!’ said the scorpion. ‘Because if you die, I’ll drown.’ The turtle saw his logic. He agreed to help him, so the scorpion crawled on his back and they began their journey. When they were halfway across, the scorpion bit the turtle in the neck. Poisoned, the turtle asked, ‘Why did you bite me? Now we’ll both die.’ The scorpion answered, ‘Because that’s what scorpions do.’”
Evie’s jaw clenched as she stared at the raindrops racing sideways on her window. “You’re saying my father can’t change. That he’s a scorpion.”
“I’m telling you a story.”
“Right. Just out of the blue.”
“It has meaning only if it applies.”
Evie argued, “I know you hate him. But maybe, just maybe, he’s not what you think. Or what I used to think. Maybe he has changed! What if he’s a good person now? I want to think he cares.…”
“Evie, I understand. I do. And I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I’m on your side. I’m just … not sure about that letter, and I’m trying to help in my own inadequate way. It was a bit of a surprise, you have to admit.”
Evie’s anger abated a little.
“Take it day by day. If your father truly feels the way he says in his letter, it will soon become very clear.”
Evie sniffed and wiped her eyes. What Aunt Mary had said seemed intelligent. She’d wait and see. And pray that her father’s letter was true.
“You’ll see, Aunt Mary. My father is not a scorpion.”
Soon, they arrived at stable five.
Yolanda came out to greet them, huddling under a broken green umbrella. “They had a peaceful night and all’s well.”
“Did you get some sleep?” asked Mary.
“Enough to last me through today.”
They rushed out of the downpour and into the stable. Kazzam contentedly munched on hay and sipped from his water bucket. Christieloo’s presence had certainly worked miracles, and the staff was glad that the banging and neighing had stopped.
“Well, I’ll see you both later,” said Evie. “I’m going to check out where I go tomorrow.”
Yolanda and Mary wished her luck. In slickers and rain boots, they led No Justice and Christieloo over to the wet grass to stretch their legs and graze. Horses love the rain, Evie observed as she strode in a different direction. They don’t mind getting wet at all.
In front of her was a hall with a room on the right and an open booth farther along. At the end of the hall was a door to the left, and people were walking in and out. It looked like the hall turned and continued right. She steeled herself and walked through the glass door.
The man in the booth lifted his head from some papers he was working on. “Evie Gibb. You’re the new girl. Breathe in here,” he ordered, and handed her a small tubular machine. She took it, too startled to object.
“I said breathe.”
She did as she was told.
“You’re okay,” the man said after reading the meter.
“What is that thing?” Evie asked.
“A breathalizer. Everyone who has anything to do with horses has to be checked. Sign in there.” He pointed to a ledger. He smiled at her very briefly. “And welcome.”
“Thanks,” said Evie. She tried to smile back.
“Now you know what to do tomorrow.” The man resumed his work. “The ladies’ room is down the hall here on the right.”
“Thanks,” she said again. She wandered further along the hall and looked into the door on the left.
She heard what sounded like people being sick to their stomachs. Then a very short man appeared at the door.
“What are you doing here? The ladies’ is down that hall.” He pointed.
“Thanks, but I don’t need it.”
He looked at her like she was an alien and then laughed. “I get it! Hey, guys!” He called into the room. “Newbie Gibb here doesn’t need to use the ladies’ room!”
Within a few seconds, Evie was surrounded by curious jockeys. She was being studied and examined like a science project. She felt too tall and too young and most of all, too inexperienced. Certainly out of place. Questions came at her from all around.
“Where’ve you ridden?”
“Any stakes races?”
“Where’d you come from, anyway?”
“No Justice is tough. Are you ready to be dumped?”
“Don’t get dumped in front of me!”
“You stay away from me with that horse!”
“Bump me and I’ll smack you.”
“Do ya know how to steer?”
“Do you know how to ride? Your father says not!”
Evie didn’t know what to do or say. She stood with her mouth open, understanding how unwelcome she was. She wanted to sink into the floor.
Then from behind her came a woman’s voice. “Leave her alone, you bullies. You all know better.”
Evie turned around to see Imogene Watson’s angry face. “Cool it! She’s new, get over it. We were all new once.”
Evie was grateful for the intervention. “It’s okay, really,” she said, still shaking. “I know everyone’s worried about No Justice and me. For good reason, too.” She’d found her voice and looked at the men. “I promise not to bump into anyone. My horse has a bad reputation, but he’s never dumped me. We’ll run a fair race and stay out of your way. That’s all I know how to do, anyway. I’m not a fancy rider.”
Imogene took her by the arm and stood with her. “Apologies, men?”
One by one, Evie saw the faces of the jockeys soften, and one by one, they mumbled monosyllabic grunts and returned to the men’s room.
The last to go was the man who’d appeared first. “You’re okay, girl jockey,” he said as he turned away. “You’ll do fine. Just mind your p’s and q’s.”
“You, too, Irv,” retorted Imogene.
The vomiting noise began again. Evie looked at Imogene questioningly.
“They’re just flipping,” she answered. “Making weight. It’s a struggle for some of the guys to stay so light.” She walked down the hall. “Come with me. I’ll show you around.”
Imogene led Evie past some hooks on the wall.
“That’s where the valets hang our silks.” Evie noted that she pronounced it va-let and not the French va-lay. “Every race, you wear the silks of that stable, and they’re hung in reverse order of your races so you always have the right ones on top. Your hook is already marked, see?”
Evie smiled when she saw her name on the wall. “Wow. I get a valet?” she asked. “With only one horse to ride?”
“You certainly do,” said a man from farther down the hall. “I’m Bart Myers and I’m your valet.” He carefully hung Angela’s pink-and-white and periwinkle-blue silks on the hook. “Mary drove these over just now. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the Parson silks.”
Evie was intrigued. “Where did you see them before?”
“I was your mother’s valet.”
Evie’s eyes widened. “Really?” She stared at this man.
He was middle-aged, a little taller than she was, and slight. He had a kind, practical look.
Bart lifted his chin proudly. “Angela Parson was my favourite, long before Imogene came along. She looked a lot like you, Evie. And she was a good jockey.”
Imogene said, “It was way worse than now. Females had a bad time of it. Your mother had the odds stacked against her to get rides.”
“You’re the one who broke the mould,” Bart responded. “Just so you know, Imogene’s working hard to level the playing field for the generations to come.”
“I’m trying my best.”
Evie agreed. “I’ve had your poster on my wall since you won the Plate on Mike Fox.”
Imogene’s face broke into a wide smile. “Then I’ve got the perfect thing for you. The saddle I rode on that day. You can use it tomorrow.”
“No,” said Evie, awed. “I couldn’t.”
“Yes you can! And you will. It’s good luck.”
“And I have something special, too,” said Bart. “Just a minute.” He hurried back down the hall.
“Where’s he going?” asked Evie.
“To the laundry room where silks are washed and boots and jodhpurs are cleaned.”
Bart reappeared with a short pair of shiny boots. “I’ve saved these for many years. They were your mother’s.”
Evie reached out and held the lightweight, patent-leather boots to her chest. There was a slight hint of mildew. She was overcome.
“The only things you need now are some britches and a helmet. Come with me!” exclaimed Imogene. She dashed into a room on the right.
Evie couldn’t move. Her feet were planted on the floor with her mother’s boots clutched tightly in her arms.
Imogene popped her head around the corner. “Come on!”
Evie, with Bart’s kindly help, dislodged herself from her stupor and followed Imogene. If ever she thought she was dreaming, it was now.
Bart deposited her at the doorway of the female jockeys’ room. Before he left her, he asked, “How much do you weigh?”
“About 116, maybe 118 pounds.”
“Great. You’re allowed 126. We’ll pop you on the scales and add the lead.”
Evie nodded. “Whatever. Just tell me. I don’t know anything. At all.”
“I’m here to help. We all are. You’ll do great.” Bart stepped back and stuck out his hand.
Evie shook it. “Thank you, Bart. Really. So much.”
“Are you coming or not? I don’t have all day,” came a voice from the ladies’ room.
“Go,” said Bart. “She’s got a race in two hours.”
Evie followed Imogene. The room was spacious with separated sections in the walls around the room. There were about ten of these cubbyholes. Each cubby was like a little window seat with shelves and drawers on the side for storing clothes and other personal items. Imogene had one, and because there were more cubbies than female jockeys, she spread her stuff over into the next.
To Evie’s delight, Imogene showed her the one she could use herself.
�
�I get a cubby?” she asked. “In the ladies’ room at Woodbine? Fantastic.”
“Of course you do. You’re riding in the big race.”
“I really am.”
“Pinch yourself, girl. Here.” Imogene pulled a pair of white riding pants out of a drawer. “These’ll fit you. I’ve got some new ones, so keep them.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“And a helmet. This is one you can use, but I’ll need it back.” She took a spare off the highest shelf. “The silk cover hides the scratches. And here’s a pair of goggles for tomorrow. You’ll only need one. The track is polyfibre, so not much kick-up, and it’s going to be sunny. Leave everything in your cubby. It’s safe.”
“You’re so ... I don’t know what to say ... amazing! I can’t thank you enough.”
Imogene tilted her head and looked at Evie. “We all help each other. That’s what we do. Someone helped me when I first started out. You’ll pass it on, I know it.”
Evie nodded solemnly. “I will. I promise.”
“Want some advice?”
“Yes, anything.” Evie waited for criticism.
“Keep doing what you’re doing. The guys don’t mean any harm. They all know about No Justice. You let them vent out there, then you treated them with respect. I like that.”
“Well, I know what they’re worried about. I’d worry about me, too.”
Imogene laughed merrily. “Glad to hear it. So, just ride your race and stay out of trouble. It’ll go the way it goes, like it always does.”
“Mike Fox was tough to ride, people say.”
“It’s true. He’s a lady’s horse — no man can ride him.”
It took a few seconds for Evie to get the joke. A lady’s horse generally means an old, quiet plug. She burst out laughing.
Imogene pointed to the door. “Now get out of here. I’ve got to study the sheets and get into the zone. See you tomorrow. Be here three hours before the race.”
“Thanks so much, Imogene. I’ll never forget this.”
“Stop thanking me and get out!” Imogene gave her a quick hug and cheerfully pushed her into the hall.
Bart was waiting. “We should get you weighed before you go. Great gal, Imogene.”