North Oak 3- Morning Glory

by Ann Hunter

Brooke cleared her throat and started reading Morning Glory’s most recent performance. “Picture it: December twentieth, Gulfstream Park. A mile and an eighth.” Her eyes peeked over the page to Laura’s face. “Exciting, right?”

  Laura remained placid, surrounded by beeping machines. Brooke went on. “Maiden claiming for three-year-olds. Great time splits at the half. Points of call - nada.” She grimaced. “It doesn’t make sense cuz I rode her in workouts, and she’s running like a stakes horse.”

  She pretended Laura answered, and sighed, “I knew you’d say that. But there’s more. Steward’s comments: fizzled.”

  As she got ready to read the race before that, she nodded like Laura had said something else. “Right? That was terrible.”

  Brooke turned her chair so she faced Laura’s bed, but could still see outside. She leaned against her knees. “December first, Gulfstream Park. Maiden race for three-year-old fillies. Decent time splits. Never got called. Steward’s comment: flattened out.”

  She slapped the paper against her knees and straightened. “I don’t know what’s more depressing. These comments or your coma.”

  When she was about to start the next line, she heard a soft, funny noise, almost a wheeze. She moved to Laura’s bed and watched her face. “Did you say something?”

  Laura’s eyelids twitched slightly. Her lips parted. “Harvard,” she whispered.

  Brooke gripped her hand. “Harvard. What about Harvard?”

  For the first time since she’d left Kentucky for Gulfstream with Pop, she caught a glimpse of blue beneath Laura’s lashes.

  “She’s waking up.” Brooke reached for the nurse call box and began punching the button more manically than the print key. “Somebody! She’s waking up.”

  Laura took a slow breath. “I can… go to… Harvard.”

  Brooke brushed back a stray blonde hair from her friend’s face. “You can do whatever you want.” She laughed, and didn’t even care that there were tears creeping down her cheek.

  Alex took the reins of a dappled gray filly coming off North Oak’s training track. Her love of being around the track was growing. It was the one place she felt like she really belonged. Here with the horses, with steam rolling off them in the fridgid mid-morning light, all spirited and glowing. Even her breath twirled together with the gray’s.

  She walked the filly around for a while until the horse was more relaxed and ready to be handed off to her groom. There was a different atmosphere with Brooke not around. She hadn’t seen her in a few days, and wondered how that wasn’t like her. What was she up to?

  Alex didn’t mind so much, as she had a chance to do some extra work around the farm. Not that it made Hillary pay anymore attention to her. Alex had even tried to help her with her morning rounds a few times, only to be simply asked to pass her this and that. Now it was just awkward avoidance. Where was the Hillary who woke her in the middle of the night for foalings? The one she remembered promising Alex her broken pieces would be put back together.

  When she finished cooling out the last horse, she headed back to the Showmans’ house. Something about going that way made her stuff her hands in her pockets. She found the baby bow deep in one corner, and fidgeted with it.

  “Hey, have you heard anything about Laura?” Johnathan North called across the way. Alex stopped cold.

  “Why would I tell you?”

  He caught up to her. “Excuse me?”

  She faced him, her brow tight. “Why would I tell you how she is?”

  John ran a hand through his sandy hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Because I’m her boyfriend.”

  Alex stabbed a finger into his chest. “Some boyfriend. I was at that hospital for most of Christmas break, and you haven’t come once.”

  She pivoted on her heel and continued to the Showmans’ house, rubbing the bow in her pocket with agitation. How dare he ask about Laura. How could he call himself her boyfriend and not visit? It left a gross taste in her mouth.

  “Wait,” he called.

  Alex huffed and stopped again. He jogged up to her. “I’m scared.”

  She rolled her eyes up to him. “What are you scared about, money bags? You’re not the one who rolled on black ice and caught fire.”

  “I…” he stammered. “I think I love her.”

  Alex batted her lips like it was a huge joke. “If you cared for her at all, you would’ve been there.”

  He circled in front of her before she could head off again. “I know. I know. Just… hear me out.”

  Alex folded her arms, refusing to believe anything he said.

  “When I heard what happened, I kind of freaked out. I couldn’t bear to think of her lying in some bed with a bunch of tubes in her or something.”

  Alex shirked him off when he reached for her shoulders to make sure she stayed.

  “And being so scared to see her, got me to thinking. A lot.”

  Alex made a circle with her finger to tell him to hurry up.

  “I love her.” He put his hand on his heart. “I do. Why else would I stay away like that? She’s bright-eyed and funny, and for her not to be that way… it kills me.”

  “Y’know what kills me?” She glared at him. “The fact that you’re saying all this, and… you weren’t there,” she yelled. “I was scared too, but that didn’t stop me.”

  She ran to the house and slammed the door, only to be met with Cade and Hillary at the kitchen table looking like they weren’t sure they’d seen a ghost or were really happy.

  “What’s going on?” Alex asked slowly.

  Cade’s fingers curled around his phone. “We got a call from the hospital.”

  Alex’s hand tightened on the door knob, expecting the worst.

  Hillary’s voice cracked. “She’s awake.”

  Cade’s phone vibrated against the tabletop. He glanced at it, then slid it across to Alex.

  She crossed slowly, and turned it over. A single text message was on the screen.

  She’s asking for Alex.

  On the way to the hospital, Alex officially decided she hated cars. The rental car the insurance loaned the Showmans roared whenever Cade shifted gears, and he did it often. She couldn’t remember him ever driving so fast. She gritted her teeth and hunkered down, fearing they’d hit black ice all over again.

  From what she could tell, peeking over the edge of the car door window, the road was clear. The sun shone down on a dry road. Snow freckled the gulleys hugging the highway, but that was the only hint of cold.

  She took in a sharp breath when the sunlight flashed ahead, sending flashbacks of the wreck firing through her mind, but it was just light glinting off a mile marker on the side of the road.

  When they reached the hospital, it was kind of like deja vu. They rushed to the elevator and Hillary repeatedly jammed her thumb against the button to Laura’s floor.

  Alex wondered if the stairs would be faster. She kept her hand in her pocket, clutching the tiny bow. It took some of the edge off her anxiety of what she was sure would be a repeat of every time they visited. Every time she was pushed aside and ignored.

  When the doors opened again, it was a blur to Laura’s room. Alex pushed past Hillary and rushed forward, hoping the text on Cade’s phone was a sign of redemption. She braced in the doorway of the room, gaping at Laura. She was sitting up slightly, half-awake.

  Alex crossed to her, not sure what she was hoping for exactly.

  Laura looked at her and smiled, like she’d done nothing more than take a really long nap. She reached for Alex’s hand. Her voice crackled. “Harvard.”

  Alex’s brow knit. “What?”

  “I can… go to Harvard… now,” Laura rasped.

  Alex cocked her head. “What are you talking about?”

  Laura turned her head, gazing at a large mug of water on the portable table beside her bed. Alex caught on and brought it to her, helping her sip. When she put it back, Laura tugged her closer.

  “I can go to Harvard.” She took a dee
p, rattling breath. “I’m smart.”

  “I think you hit your head harder than the doctor said.”

  Laura shook her head. “My IQ is, like… through the… roof. It happens in the movies.”

  “Tell me you’re joking.” Alex looked up just as Cade and Hillary entered. “She’s convinced the wreck made her a genius or something.”

  When Hillary zoomed to Laura, Alex was glad she was on the other side of the bed, out of the way. A linebacker couldn’t have moved faster. Hillary stroked Laura’s head, having only eyes for her. Alex bit her lip. What was the point of it all? She plopped into a chair, hanging back in the corner, leaning her chin against her knuckles.

  Yup. Invisible. Again.

  Why couldn’t Hillary look at Alex like that? Wasn’t Alex part of this family?

  If she was, then she was the ghost that old farm houses sometimes had. The kind that turns the lights on and off, and moves crap around, just to mess with you.

  Cade offered her that sympathetic Sorry, Sport look when he wasn’t focused on his wife and daughter.

  Why was it important for Laura to tell Alex about… well, whatever that Harvard thing was?

  Laura turned her head Alex’s way, and Alex hoped she’d reach out to her again. Make her feel like she wasn’t just part of the furniture in the room. Make her feel like she actually belonged. But then she realized Laura’s eyes were fixed on the mug of water again.

  Alex sighed as her chair scraped against the floor. She rose to help with the water when Hillary knocked into her. Alex’s hands curled into fists.

  Hillary glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry, dear.”

  It was more than she’d said in the last week. That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me? ‘Sorry, dear,’ Alex boiled. She reached for the mug and gripped the handle, right over Hillary’s hand. “I’ve got it.”

  Hillary’s hand jerked, pulling the mug toward her, but Alex pulled back. “It’s alright, I’ve—”

  Alex locked eyes with her, her words firm. “I’ve. Got it.”

  For a moment, Alex felt like they were meeting all over again. Her assessing North’s lackey, and Hillary waking into the reality of a hard-nosed kid.

  I’m here too, lady.

  Alex became aware of subtle, rough wrinkles trembling beneath her hand. Hillary finally let go. Alex kept her eyes on hers for a second longer, before helping Laura drink.

  Laura gazed at her, smiling slightly, like it was the best thing she’d seen in ages.

  THE GIFT HORSE

  Brooke sat nervously before Mr. North.

  He folded his hands over his big, messy desk and leaned forward. His eyes were steely as he pursed his lips. Brooke sat up straighter.

  “Do you know why I called you here today?” he asked.

  Brooke gripped the arms of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see her hands tremble. I stole Pop’s car. “Nope.”

  “Good. Because if Joe found out about this— ”

  Brooke swallowed hard, fighting the urge to wince. Crap, he knows!

  North paused, squinting at her. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded curtly. “Great.”

  “I’ll make this easy on the both of us.” He leaned back to open the drawer, and Brooke became accutely aware of icy beads of sweat forming beneath her ponytail. She was in deep, deep…

  North slid a thin, white envelope toward her.

  Her eyes narrowed. Blackmail? “What’s this?”

  He smiled. “Open it.”

  Brooke held her breath and shakily reached for the envelope. She eyed him as her finger slid beneath the pasted lip. She looked down and pulled out a slip of paper.

  A check.

  Her mind muddled. Wait, I’m not in trouble?

  She had to read it twice. He had to be joking. She waved it. “You’re kidding me.”

  He shook his head. “All yours.”

  “But I thought you said North Oak is struggling. This can’t be real.”

  “I’ve figured out the finances since the sales this fall. You did a great job preparing the yearlings. They sold so well that North Oak is staying afloat for now. I have you to thank, so enjoy your commission. We’ll be alright a few more months. That is your cut.”

  Brooke’s hands were really shaking now as she stared at the check for ten thousand dollars.

  North chuckled softly. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Merrsal.”

  “Wh-what do I do with it?” she stammered.

  He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Put it away for college, invest it, I don’t care. It’s not my money anymore. It’s yours. None of my business. Just don’t tell Joe.” He winked.

  Still not thinking clearly, Brooke folded the paper in half and tucked it into her back pocket. She rose and blurted out, “Thank you.”

  North nodded. “Keep up the good work.”

  She stumbled from the office, shutting the door behind her, and stopped outside. She reached into her pocket and pulled the check back out, staring at it. What sixteen-year-old ever gets to hold this kind of money? What do they do with it?

  Blow it, Pop’s voice growled in her head like she didn’t deserve it. Just because she didn’t know what to do with it yet, didn’t mean she didn’t deserve it, she said to herself.

  North had mentioned college. She’d thought about it before in passing, but never seriously. She had good grades, but not enough for big scholarships. Here was her ticket to an advanced education.

  He’d also mentioned investing it. Something gnawed at her, something crazy. This voice in the back of her mind, her own voice, told her to buy Morning Glory.

  Would her owners be willing to go that low? A fifteen thousand dollar claimer was already a pretty low rung on the racing world’s ladder. But with the filly’s glaring problem, would they possibly go lower just to foist her off on someone else?

  And what about paperwork? She would have to get an owners license, and how would she get her back to North Oak? Pop would never sign off as the filly’s trainer. So she’d just keep Morning Glory as what? A lawn ornament until she turned eighteen and got her own trainer’s license? The filly would be a mare by then, and most five-year-old mares were already in foal, like Venus Galaxies.

  The deepest part of her pushed all that aside and said, we’re doing that! But Brooke continued to stare at the check, chewing her lip. This could be her first real opportunity to own and train her own racehorse, though. When would that chance come along again? She wasn’t sure if Pop had ever had a chance like that. Her whole life, he’d always trained someone else’s horse. She didn’t want to spend her life living like that. That’s now how she saw herself in five years.

  She held the check tighter, so as not to let it slip away, and closed her eyes. There she was, at the rail of Churchill Downs with dawn kissing the spires behind her. Her own horses snorting rhythmically as they danced around the track. Fast, sleek. Hooves never seeming to quite touch the earth.

  That’s how she saw herself.

  She opened her eyes. She didn’t care if Morning Glory had problems. She’d figure them out one way or another. Brooke refolded the check and pushed it deep into her pocket. She headed back to the house she shared with her grandfather to make nice with the archaic computer-looking brick and track the filly until her next race.

  ***

  After dumping manure and soiled bedding from the wheelbarrow into the compost pile outside the stallion barn, Alex maneuvered it back to the last stall Brooke needed to muck out. The stallions had been turned out for the afternoon in the last few weeks before breeding season.

  A radio further down the aisle hummed a country western song. Alex plunked an earbud into her ear and turned on her ipod, preferring something less twangy.

  Brooke shoveled the yuck from the stall into the wheelbarrow. “You going to North’s party tonight? He goes all out for the Eclipse awards.”

  “Didn’t he just have a New Years party?” Alex asked.

  “The one you
didn’t go to?”

  Alex narrowed her eyes at Brooke. “Alex plus people don’t mix, remember?”

  Brooke leaned her pitchfork against the stall wall to pull a bandana from her back pocket and wipe her face. “You should go tonight. We get to dress up.”

  “You in a dress.” Alex couldn’t even fathom it. She started laughing. “Bwahaha!”

  Brooke put her hands on her hips. “What?”

  Alex wiped laughing droplets from the corners of her eyes and braced on her knees. “I’d like to see that.” She snorted. “You in a dress.”

  “You’ve seen me in a dress before. At the Breeders Cup, remember?”

  Alex sobered. “Oh, right.” Memories of all those people swarming around her, her heart started pounding. She took a deep breath.

  Brooke tussled Alex’s hair, and playfully shoved her head. “See you tonight?”

  “Sure, Stick.” Alex swallowed.

  Brooke waved as she headed down the aisle. The barn manager poked his head out from his office and called to her. “Thanks for your help today. The flu’s got a couple of our guys down.”

  “No problem.” Brooke smiled.

  The manager gave a thumbs up to Alex. “You too, Al.”

  “Welcome,” she stammered at the unexpected nod.

  She put the wheelbarrow and manure rake away, wondering if the manager had really been talking to her. As she headed back to the house to meet Carol for tutoring, her racing heart eased. Maybe she wasn’t a ghost after all.

  “So, you see,” Carol said, “he’s really an analogy for orphans and social outcasts.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow, pumping her heel against the kitchen table chair, bored out of her mind. “How can some guy be all that?”

  Carol read ahead in their copy of Moby Dick together. “If I remember right, there’s a man named Ishmael in the Bible who gets disowned in favor of his half-brother. Connecting the two Ishmaels like that, as outcasts, is genius.”

  Alex frowned with the disdain of grumpy old man-ittude. Orphans. She might as well call herself Ishmael. Alex reached for the book and snapped it closed. “I guess that’s why good ol’ Hermy is one of the greats.”