Jockey Girl

by Shelley Peterson

  “I’m sorry, Evie.”

  “I … I didn’t mean.… I only.…”

  “Please. Don’t worry. It’s a new beginning. With lots of new knowledge. Aunt Mary is now my mother, for one.”

  Evie nodded. “Surprised the heck out of me. She’s Gran Mary to me now.”

  Angela chuckled, coughed, and then said, “My parents were wonderful people. After they died, Aunt Mary was my only family. So really, whether she’s my aunt or my mother, it’s almost the same.” She dug at a mosquito bite with a fingernail as she spoke.

  Evie nodded. “I know. She’s the same person to me, too, whether she’s my great-aunt or my grandmother.”

  “She’s a wonderful lady.” Angela’s toes twitched in their own rhythm on the grass.

  “She sure is. She took me in. And Magpie and Kazzam. Without one question or any conditions.”

  Angela nodded vaguely and stared into the sky, making Evie wonder if she’d heard what she’d said.

  “I’m going into rehab tomorrow. I want to get better. It’s the right time for me. If Mary hadn’t been there for me, I don’t think I’d be here right now, to see this day. In fact, I know it.”

  Evie shivered, in spite of the sun’s warmth. “I’m glad you’re here.” Her emotions about her mother had been a roller coaster, but it was true. She was glad. Sitting outside in the garden with Angela was something she’d thought would never happen.

  Angela coughed again. She reached into her bag, pulled out another cigarette, and lit it. Evie hated that she smoked, and so heavily. But Dr. Graham had told them not to expect Angela to break all her bad habits at the same time.

  Angela fidgeted with her cigarette and changed the subject. “I’m happy I saw you win the Plate. It was my life’s dream, but you did it.” She patted Evie’s arm.

  “Thank you.” Evie still had trouble believing it was true. She looked over to the field where Kazzam was grazing with Christieloo. He’s so gorgeous, she thought. She could watch him all day, admiring his classic lines and gleaming ebony coat.

  “Your boyfriend Mark is quite a guy,” said Angela. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Evie grinned. “He kidnapped you, didn’t he. And took you to his mom’s spa. I didn’t know anything about it until I saw you at the Winner’s Circle.”

  “Is he a keeper?” Angela asked coyly, inhaling on her cigarette. She coughed again and recrossed her legs.

  Evie hoped so. Mark had been great throughout the whole adventure, and she loved spending time with him more than anybody else, but she didn’t want to jinx it. “For now he is. I guess we’ll see.”

  Angela nodded. “He’s lovely. He took me at face value when I was far from presentable. That’s rare.”

  Evie could imagine how much that might mean to her.

  Angela leaned closer and spoke quietly. “I need to explain why I left you all those years ago.” She wiped her mouth with a quick motion. “It’s my awful secret.”

  Evie didn’t move. Something about her mother’s voice alerted her to pay close attention.

  Angela stared absently at her cigarette. “When I tell you, you might decide I’m unworthy. I wouldn’t blame you.” She shrugged. “It’s how I’ve judged myself all this time.”

  Evie felt herself getting gooseflesh. “I’m ready, Mom. I want to know the truth, whatever it is.”

  Angela took one last puff and ground the cigarette into the ashtray. Evie noticed that there were already six butts.

  “You’ve heard about my accident at the track and my injuries, and how I needed pain medication?”

  “Yes. Aunt ... Gran Mary told me all about that.”

  “I was in considerable pain. But even after the pain became bearable, I kept taking the pills. I knew that my mind wasn’t totally clear, but I didn’t blame it on the drugs, really. The truth was, I didn’t want to stop.”

  Angela brought her knees up to her chin, and her manicured toes hung over the seat of the wicker chair. Evie had noticed earlier how much better she looked after a few days of healthy eating and sunshine. But now her brow was furrowed and her jaw was clenching as she chewed hard on a fingernail and stared at her feet.

  “Grayson told me. He kept telling me, nagging at me, to get off the pills. I lied. I told him I’d quit and started to hide them. I thought he couldn’t possibly know.”

  Evie sat still and waited for her mother to continue.

  “Then things began to fall apart. I didn’t know it, though. I got mad when people thought I needed help. Then, when … this thing … happened, I couldn’t fool myself any longer.” She paused, looking at something distant.

  She put her feet back down and twisted her hands together. Her head dropped and her shoulders began to bob as she fought tears.

  “You can tell me another time,” Evie said quietly. “If it’s too hard —”

  “No. I need to tell you now. I’m leaving tomorrow.” Angela wiped her face with her napkin and fumbled for another cigarette. She spoke in a halting way. “You were three. A healthy, beautiful little girl. All you wanted to do in the summer was get in the pool and splash and play.”

  Evie was shocked. “Me? In the water?”

  “Yes. You loved it almost as much as horses. Which was a whole lot. When you weren’t in the barn, I couldn’t keep you out of the water.” Angela got the cigarette lit and inhaled hungrily.

  The idea that she’d ever liked to be in water was hard to believe, and Evie wondered if Angela remembered correctly. “Go on. Please.”

  “We were at the pool and you were playing. The sun was warm and I nodded off. I don’t remember anything until the moment when I saw your father’s soaking clothes and your limp body. He stood there shouting at me, screaming for help. Then he turned you over and out came a lot of water. More water than I thought could fit into your tiny body.”

  Angela cleared her throat and sank deeper into the chair. She still did not look at Evie. Her lips quivered. “I thought you were dead. He gave you mouth-to-mouth and pressed on your chest until you made a choking sound and began to cry. It was the most wonderful sound I’ve ever heard.”

  Evie’s eyes blurred. She realized that her arms were wrapped around her chest and her legs were wound around each other. This was the reason she got a panicky feeling around water.

  “You see, Evie? I couldn’t look after you. That’s when I knew you were better off with your father.” Angela rocked in her chair and clenched her hands into fists.

  Evie tried hard to comprehend.

  “Grayson’s lawyer came within the hour. They drew up the papers and I signed them. I didn’t read them. I was ashamed. I went away.”

  Evie was totally numb, but she asked, “Where?”

  “To a hotel.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I went to walk-in clinics and doctor’s offices to get more prescriptions. It’s hard work being an addict.”

  Evie sat silently. She pictured her mother wandering around, scrounging for OxyContin.

  “When I ran out of sources, I went to Toronto and found a hostel. I looked for a job.” Her voice became weary. “I went to emergency rooms and more walk-in clinics and more doctor’s offices. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you all about it. I have no secrets anymore.”

  “Did Gran Mary know any of this?” Evie croaked.

  “I didn’t want anyone to know, least of all Mary.”

  “Does she know now?”

  “Yes. As I said, I have no secrets anymore.”

  “But didn’t you ever want to get me back?” Evie found herself almost begging.

  “Yes!” Angela grabbed her daughter’s hand and squeezed it, startling Evie. “Every time I cleaned up and got a paying job, I wanted to come back to get you.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  Angela released Evie’s hand. “Because Grayson threatened to charge me with neglect and being an unfit mother. He’d end up keeping you anyway. I’d slink away again. Ashamed.”
/>   “But why did he want me with him? He never even liked me.” Evie almost choked on her words, but they were audible.

  “He has a hard time with emotion, Evie. You know that. But there was a different reason. With you came the stables and the lifestyle. I’d signed away my inheritance to him so that he could raise you and never have to worry about money. But it made him resent you.”

  “I wish I’d known.”

  “I wish I’d been stronger.”

  Mother and daughter reached for each other at the same moment. Under the birch trees in the kitchen garden, they cried for the lost years and the anguish suffered.

  There was much more that Evie wanted to say and much more she wanted to know, but for now, her mother’s tearful confession and her own sense of finding something long-lost was enough.

  They heard a rap from the kitchen window. Startled, they both looked up to see Mary’s concerned face.

  Angela waved. “Come on out.”

  Mary emerged from the house. “I don’t want to interrupt you, and I’m sorry if I did, but Jerry called and I’ve got news.”

  Angela sniffed back her last tear. She kept an arm around Evie’s shoulder and said, “We’re finished for now.” She looked at Evie and gave a wobbly smile. “Right?”

  “Right.” Evie nodded. Angela had finally made eye contact. She smiled back at her mother, then looked at Mary, who was bursting to tell her news.

  “Grayson’s been deemed a flight risk, so there’s no bail, and he’ll be detained until his trial. He’s been formally charged with conspiracy to commit an indictable offence.”

  Evie was riveted. “Is there proof?”

  “There was a cheque for five thousand dollars in the pocket of the bribed security guard.”

  “Signed by Grayson?” guessed Angela.

  Mary nodded. “Yes, but he denies it. The guard, Neil Childs, has been very helpful in exchange for a deal. He said he was to get five thousand dollars more when the job was done. He claims Grayson hired him to put No Justice down.”

  Evie gasped. “To kill him?”

  “That’s what Neil claims and what the court battle will be about, I’m sure. Grayson denies everything, but the facts add up to insurance fraud.”

  Evie whistled. That’s what she’d been afraid of since the night she hid in Kazzam’s stall and overheard Grayson tell Jerry to get rid of him. He must’ve thought that Angela couldn’t prove ownership. Otherwise, she would’ve gotten the insurance money.

  Angela became quiet. She coughed and got another cigarette out of her bag. “This is good, in one way at least. I’ll redeem my horses and my family inheritance. I want my life back.” Angela inhaled deeply and nodded. “I can concentrate on my treatment knowing I have something to come back to.”

  Evie watched her mother’s hands shake as she lit the cigarette and hoped she’d have the strength to make that dream come true.

  Mary put her hand on Angela’s shoulder. “I expect you won’t have any trouble getting your life back, especially now that Grayson has abdicated the position.”

  Evie considered Grayson’s incarceration. He was all alone. Paulina, Beatrice, and Jordie had left him, to start a new life in Newmarket with Kerry. It was sad, but he’d caused it himself, by his own actions. He had also besmirched his name in the racing industry.

  The thing Evie would never get past was that her father had tried to destroy her greatest aspiration and, more importantly to her, the horse she loved. For what? To win? He chose his own success over hers every time, always had, but Evie wondered how much of this was to punish her for disobeying his orders. In spite of that letter he’d left at the door in the rain. He must have written it as he was organizing the hit on Kazzam.

  But something nagged at her.

  Then the realization hit. “He saved my life.” She sat back down. “My father pulled me out of the water when I was drowning. He did care about me. Once. At least enough to save me. I wish I’d known that.”

  Mary tried to soothe her. “You know now. That’s what’s important.”

  Evie found herself choked up. Her father had made her feel unwelcome and unworthy in his house. Useless. A nuisance. Nothing in their history had prepared her for this revelation. It was a new reality.

  Why had he never told her about saving her life? she wondered. He could have made himself the hero. But he hadn’t. Ever. In this one instance, he’d been a gentleman. She’d found one thing to like about her father, and that was very important to her.

  Kazzam whinnied loudly, disturbing her thoughts. Evie looked over to his field. Her beautiful, tough, brave little horse stood at the fence, staring at her. His heart-shaped star glowed white against his shiny black face. He raised his front right leg and tapped his hoof against the boards, then whinnied again.

  Evie rose from her chair and crossed the sloping lawn toward him. Magpie followed closely on her heels.

  No one could see the tears rolling down her face. Not Mary, who had opened her heart and home to her when she ran away. Not Angela, who was back in Evie’s life for better and for worse. Not Yolanda, who was fast asleep in the sun. And not Mark, who was coming over that afternoon for a ride on Christieloo.

  And if they had, they might not understand that these tears were tears of complete and utter joy. Tears that fell from an overflowing heart.

  Evangeline Gibb stroked the soft nose of the most celebrated racehorse in Canada. She looked up into the blue sky and whispered, “Thank you, Lord of creatures great and small.”

  Epilogue

  The headlines the day after the race had been predictable. “Jockey Girl and her Little Black Horse” was written up in the Globe and Mail. The Toronto Sun proclaimed, “Upset by Upstart!” and the Toronto Star boldly stated, “Conflict When Dark Horse Wins by a Nose!”

  The definitive piece had been written by Chet Reynolds, of the Orangeville Banner. He’d titled it “Justice for No Justice,” just like Evie had suggested. Now he had the whole story. Angela had talked to him openly. Mary had revealed pertinent details. He’d interviewed Beatrice, Jordie, Yolanda, and Jerry. He’d pieced together Evie’s adventures, from winning the Caledon Horse Race to running away, to finding her mother, to the night she’d spent in a Woodbine stall, to becoming the winner of the Queen’s Plate. Chet was offered well-paid positions at big newspapers. By Tuesday he’d received three offers to write a book and two to make a film.

  With its million-dollar purse, the Queen’s Plate is the richest race in Canada for Canadian-bred Thoroughbreds. The million dollars breaks down this way: sixty percent to the first-place owner, twenty percent to second place, eleven percent to third, six percent to fourth, and three percent to the fifth-place owner. That meant that Angela received $600,000, and Evie as the jockey took her ten percent from that, which is $60,000, as did Jerry, the trainer. The valet and groom shared $3,000.

  As well as his ten percent, Jerry made a fortune betting all his money on No Justice, the long shot, and now was in great demand after training a Plate winner.

  Grayson Gibb remains in jail after the jury decided unanimously that he was guilty as charged. He’s appealing the decision, but Evie believes he’ll lose.

  Since winning the Queen’s Plate, No Justice has become a legend. People come to stroke his nose over the fence at Parson’s Bridge and to take his picture. He loves it. He feels he’s earned his fame, and has many more races to run. Talk is that he’ll be entered in the Prince of Wales Stakes in July, and then, if Jerry has his way, the Breeders’ Stakes in August. If Kazzam wins those two races, he’ll have won Canada’s Triple Crown, joining a very elite club of only seven winners since its origin: New Providence, Canebora, With Approval, Izvestia, Dance Smartly, Peteski, and Wando.

  Keep an eye on Chet Reynolds’s columns for updates.

  He’s all over it.

  Author’s Note

  My first horse was named Napoleon. He was a small black Thoroughbred gelding with a big white heart on his forehead and an attitu
de that kept normal people as far away as possible. Luckily for him, I was a horse-crazy fourteen-year-old who’d begged for riding lessons from the age of five.

  My father was a developer. On a property he’d purchased to create a subdivision in London, Ontario, stood an old barn. Hiding in a dark corner of a filthy stall, starved, beaten, and neglected, was a young racehorse who’d been used in chariot races — the meanest, toughest racing of all. Illegal and unregulated, horses are tied to anything with two wheels and forced to run as fast as possible on a country road when a gun is fired.

  Napoleon was left in the barn because the owner was too afraid of him to let him out. He came with the property, and was given to me as an alternative to being destroyed. He taught me lessons about horse psychology that I would never forget. I have written this book in his memory.

  Acknowledgements

  There are many people to thank when a book is created, and this small mention is barely sufficient.

  I needed experts to teach me about Thoroughbred racing to ensure I got the details right. I found them in Fox Ridge manager Chris Higgins; jockey Emma-Jayne Wilson; her long-time agent Mike Luider; his wife, announcer Renee Keirans; and my friend Frank Merrill, of Tallyho Racing. I cannot thank you enough for the time you spent with me on the track and in conference.

  Gordon Mack Scott, of Strategic Improvement Company, helped me plumb the mysteries of living with drug addiction. My sister Deb Matthews was minister of health in the Ontario government, and she opened my eyes to street life and its denizens.

  My family has played a huge role in every book I’ve written, and this one is no exception. My husband, David, was the first reader. My mother, Joyce Matthews, was the second. My children, Chloe Dirksen, Ben, and Adam Peterson, had many valuable insights. To my sisters, Carole, Dona, and Deb Matthews, and Virginia Lato, I give a huge bouquet of hugs.

  I thank Linda Pruessen and Robin Spano for their professional assistance, and my agent, Amy Tompkins of Transatlantic Agency, for finding this novel a good home with the Dundurn family.