“You thought she might, didn’t you?”
“It crossed my mind.” Trish shoved her fingers into her pockets.
“Well, she isn’t. She said she and Dad had talked it all over. He told her to sell if she wanted to.”
Trish felt a boot-kick in her gut. Her father had said that?
“But Mom says she wants to keep the farm; that with Patrick’s experience, and maybe hiring some more help when I leave for school…”
She felt the kick again. “But I—you—but…” David couldn’t leave too.
“I know.” David stopped and picked up another piece of crushed rock. He ran his finger over the rough edges. “But Mom said…”
Trish felt an arrow of anger again, the sharp one that caused her to clench her teeth. Since when did her mother know all about what was best for everybody? That was her dad’s job. She yanked her mind back to what David was saying.
“We had to pick up our lives and go on. My goal has always been to be a veterinarian, and now I want to specialize in equine medicine. You knew that.”
Trish nodded. She kicked another rock and watched it bounce off into the grass. Sure, pick up our lives and go on. He makes it sound so easy. As if the world hasn’t totally fallen apart.
“I know this is hard for you, Tee.”
She shook her head. “Yeah.” You don’t know the half of it, buddy-boy. What do you think you’re doing, just making plans like…like…
“Trish, Dad would want us to get on with our lives too—school, racing, all of it.”
Trish flung away his arm when he reached out to touch her. “Easy for you to say. You just go away and step back into a life that didn’t include us anyway. And Mom—she just acts like everything is fine. Well it’s not. It’ll never be fine again!” She felt like planting her fist in the middle of her brother’s nose.
Caesar whimpered at Trish’s harsh voice. He nudged her fist with his cold nose and whined again. When she ignored him, he tried a sharp bark.
Trish dropped to her knees and buried her face in the collie’s heavy ruff. When David laid a hand on Trish’s head, she shook it away. “Just leave me alone. Everyone, just leave me alone.”
And that’s what she felt like when she walked into the house. Alone. Her dad wasn’t sitting in his recliner. He’d never sit in his chair again.
Chapter
07
Trish, I’m so glad you’re here.” Rhonda threw her arms around her friend.
“Yeah, me too.” Trish stuffed her book bag into her locker. At least Prairie High hadn’t changed in the month or so she’d been gone. Kids still bumped into each other in the halls, yelled across the commons, and rushed off to class when the bell rang. She kept expecting everything to be different, just because she was.
“Can I help you somehow?” Rhonda clutched her books to her chest.
Trish shook her head. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “David says just to pick up our lives and go on. That’s what Dad would want.” She felt like slamming her locker door and running screaming down the hall. “So my dad died. So what’s the big deal?” Trish lifted her chin in the air and glared at her friend.
“Tee, you know David didn’t mean it like that,” Rhonda scolded.
“We’d better get to class. I’ve got a final first period. I can’t wait till this is over.”
Others looked the other way when they caught Trish’s eye. There would be no “welcome home” or congratulations this time.
Rhonda stopped Trish before she entered her first-period class. “They don’t know what to say, Tee. None of us do.”
“Yeah, congratulations doesn’t fit, does it.” Trish shifted her books to the other arm. “Forget it, Rhonda. Just ace your test.”
Trish had a hard time focusing on the test paper in front of her. The words ran together. They carried no meaning. She glanced up at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed; she’d written down one answer. Her jaw was beginning to ache from being clenched so tight, but Trish used the pain to help her focus. She would not fail these tests. She was tough—wasn’t she?
Brad was waiting outside the school in his Mustang at the end of the day. Trish dropped like a stone onto the front seat.
“Pretty bad, huh?”
She exhaled and leaned her head back on the seat. “Worse.”
“I’ll bet they’d give you an extension if you asked.” Brad tilted his seat forward so Rhonda could get in the back.
“Mrs. Olson told me she would. But I’d rather tough it out and get done.”
“How’s it feel to be done with high school?” Rhonda asked Brad, blowing upward to lift her bangs.
“Good. I just came back to gloat over you guys still struggling with finals. I also knew you wouldn’t want to take the bus.”
“Thanks,” Trish said. “I don’t think I could have handled the bus ride today. I was hoping to have my new convertible, but they aren’t in yet.”
“You think your mom will let you drive it to school?”
“I think she’s going to have a cow every time I get in it.”
“You want to study together? I can come over.” Rhonda leaned her chin on the back of the front seat.
“No—I don’t think so. I’m so tired; I’m going to bed. I’ll probably study later.” If at all. Who cares, anyway? Trish’s thoughts seemed louder than her voice.
That evening her mom woke her to say Red was on the phone. Trish stumbled into the kitchen and sank down on the floor to lean against the oak cabinets, the phone clamped between her ear and her shoulder.
“How’s my girl?” Red’s voice sounded as if he were in the next room.
“Sleepy.” Trish couldn’t control a yawn. “I had two finals today; I have two tomorrow, and two on Wednesday. I’ll be glad when they’re over.”
“I won today, and a place in the seventh. How about that for some good news?”
“Bet the winner’s circle felt good.” Trish yawned again. “’Scuse me. I just can’t wake up.”
“I miss you.”
Trish felt a little twinge of guilt. She hadn’t even thought about Red since she left him at the airport. “Yeah, so how’s it look for you? Lots of mounts?” She forced herself to stay with the conversation but couldn’t think of anything to say. When the silence stretched for several seconds, she mumbled, “Well, I’ll talk to you later; I need to hit the books.” She hung up the phone as if it were a fifty-pound weight.
Man, he’s gonna think you don’t even like him, her nagger jumped right in. Trish had been able to shut him off lately, but even that was too much trouble tonight.
She sat down at her desk to study but found herself staring at the wall instead. Maybe if she propped herself against the headboard of her bed…
Her mother found her there, sound asleep, with her history book on the floor. Trish hadn’t even heard it drop.
“How about crawling under the covers?” Marge smoothed wisps of hair back from Trish’s cheek.
“I need to study.” Trish stretched and yawned. “I’m just so tired.”
“I know. Maybe you should take incompletes and—”
“No. I just want to get school over with. I didn’t do so bad today, at least I don’t think so.” She swung her feet to the floor. “Maybe if I tank up on Diet Coke I can stay awake.”
Trish fell asleep the next day during study hall.
“You want to run the track with me instead of lunch?” Trish asked Rhonda when they met at their lockers for break.
“Let’s grab a sandwich and then I will. I’m starved. We’ll have to run fast.” Rhonda stuffed her money in her pocket and her books in her locker.
A brisk breeze scattered clouds across the sky and blew their hair in their eyes as Trish and Rhonda ran the cinder track behind the brick complex. They jogged the first lap, stretched some, and ran the second.
Rhonda puffed to a halt and grabbed her side. “Owww. We need to do this more often or not at all.”
Trish su
cked in huge gulps of air. “Want to go another?”
“You crazy?” Rhonda folded in half and wrapped her arms around her knees to stretch again. “If that didn’t wake you up, nothing will. Besides”—she glanced at her watch—“we have ten minutes till the bell, and I’m spending mine eating.”
Trish shivered as the breeze blew through her wet shirt.
“Here.” Rhonda handed her a jacket. “We can walk and chew at the same time, or at least we used to be able to.” She grabbed Trish when she tripped on a sprinkler head. “Ya gotta pay attention.”
Those words haunted Trish all afternoon. Why couldn’t she pay attention? Why did her mind seem to wander off all on its own? And she wasn’t even thinking of anything, just wandering in a black fog. She felt better at the end of the day, however. She knew she’d aced the history test. All those hours of studying while she’d been traveling had paid off.
That evening she ran down the drive, up to Brad’s, and back to their own barn to see Miss Tee. The filly snorted and dashed off to circle the pasture before coming to nibble her treat from Trish’s hand.
“You sure are a beauty.” Trish rubbed the filly’s velvety cheek and inhaled the wonderful odor of horse.
“She has good speed for a baby.” Patrick leaned on the fence beside her. “Good motion too. You can tell she loves to run; already makes sure she finishes first against Double D. ’Course he’s a tad younger.”
“She should be good. Her dam has thrown two colts. One Dad sold as a yearling—he’s running at Longacres, won a couple; and the other went back to Minnesota, I think. Last I heard he was doing okay too. Dad said all our money went into stud fees the last couple of years. He knew it was necessary if we wanted to go someplace besides Portland Meadows.”
“Well, looks to be paying off.” Patrick tipped his hat back and scratched his head. “We got a lot of work to do, soon as you’re done with school.”
That night Trish turned her light off just after midnight. It looked like running was the answer—to staying awake, that is.
By Wednesday evening she felt brain-dead and ready to skip the last half day of school. But her finals and her junior year were finished.
“How does it feel to be a big senior?” Rhonda asked as she dug the last candy wrapper out of the back of her locker.
“I don’t feel any different.” Trish scraped at a piece of tape that had held the school calendar on the inside of her locker door. “Other than being totally beat.”
“You want to go to a movie tonight? The four musketeers haven’t done anything together for a long time.” Rhonda slammed her locker shut and wiped her hands on the back of her jeans.
Trish shook her head.
“The mall?”
“I don’t think so. Let’s get outta here.”
The sun hadn’t broken through the overcast the next morning before Trish was galloping through the ground fog on Sarah’s Pride. Patrick had decreed long gallops to build stamina for all three horses. Owner John Anderson decided to return Gatesby to Runnin’ On Farm now that Patrick was the trainer, so Trish had the gelding and Firefly to work too. She could hear Patrick muttering as she walked the filly back to the barns.
David was trying hard to keep a straight face.
“Gatesby at it again?” she asked as she leaped to the ground.
“No manners. All we need is a cockeyed plug with a sense of humor. If I didn’t know…” Patrick glared at Trish and then David. “And don’t say I told you so either.” He picked up his hat and beat it against his leg. “Fat and sassy, that’s all he is. Well, son,” he said, staring into the gelding’s right eye, “you hear me now and listen up good. I won’t tolerate that kind of nonsense.”
Gatesby pulled his head as high as the tie rope permitted, and rolled his eyes till the whites showed.
Trish chuckled at the familiar sight. She looked around to share the joke with her father, and the moment popped like a shimmery soap bubble on a breeze. She lifted her knee for David to boost her up. The rock lodged back in her throat.
When she returned from the gallop, David and Patrick were discussing Longacres versus going to California to race with Adam Finley.
“Which would you rather do, lass?” Patrick asked as he tossed Trish aboard Firefly.
“Whatever.”
“You must have an opinion.”
Trish shook her head. “I don’t really care.”
That seemed to be her theme song. At least she heard herself saying it more than once a day. And she thought it a lot more often. Why should she care? Why bother?
On Friday the dealer called to say he had three red convertibles sitting on his lot waiting for them.
“What time would you like to pick them up?” the man asked.
“Would two be okay?” Trish said, after checking with David and her mother.
“You want to invite Brad and Rhonda to go along?” Marge asked when Trish hung up the phone.
“Is Patrick coming?” Trish drew circles in a puddle of water on the counter.
“That’s up to you.”
“Whatever…”
“No. You have to make a decision. We can turn this into a celebration like it should be or you can play ‘whatever.’” Marge crossed her arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “It’s up to you.”
How can we celebrate when he’s not here? Trish thought as she glared at her mother. She slapped her hand in the water, spraying it over the counter. “Fine. We’ll invite everybody. Make it a big party. Winner of the Triple Crown—and it doesn’t mean squat. Nothing means anything anymore, don’t you know that?” Her voice rose to a shriek as she charged through the living room and down the hall to her bedroom. She slammed the door and threw herself across the bed, only to pound her fists on the floor.
“Sorry,” she muttered an hour or so later when she came back to the kitchen.
“I know you are. It helps to get the anger out.” Marge shut the oven after removing a sheet of chocolate chip cookies. Her eyes were red-rimmed like she’d been crying. She set the cookie tray on the counter and reached for a tissue to blow her nose. “It’s easier if we help each other. So far you haven’t let any of us close enough to help you.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes.
“I can’t,” Trish choked out. “I’d better call Rhonda and Brad. Where’s Patrick?”
“Down watching them set up his new home. He’s hoping to sleep there tonight.”
Later, in the station wagon on the way into Vancouver, Rhonda asked, “What are you gonna do with the third car, give it to the church?”
Trish stared at Rhonda like she’d dropped her remaining marbles. “I wouldn’t give God the time of day if He asked, let alone a car!”
“Trish!”
“Well, would you?” Trish slumped lower in her seat and chewed on her thumbnail.
“I thought maybe our youth group could get a used van with the money from the sale of the car. You’d said you might give it to the church.”
“Yeah, well, God can buy a van for the church.”
“Attitude…” Brad poked Trish in the ribs from the other side. “Your dad wouldn’t be very happy to hear that.”
Trish folded her arms across her chest and glared up at her friend. What right did he, or anyone for that matter, have to tell her what her father would want?
Her nagger got her attention. You know your dad always gave of himself and what he had to help others.
When they walked into the showroom, they were met by reporters and a television camera. Trish was surprised, and plastered a smile on her face.
“Yes, the second one goes to my brother David here. He earned it.…No, I don’t know what to do with the third one. Guess I’ll decide later.”
“Where are you racing next?” a man asked around his camcorder.
Trish shook her head. “I—we’re not sure yet.”
“How’d you feel about leaving Spitfire in Kentucky?”
“I—I…” She shot a
pleading look at Patrick and David.
David stepped forward. “Of course it was hard for Trish to leave her horse in Kentucky, but we know that’s what’s best for Spitfire.”
“You still thinking of the Breeder’s Cup?”
“No, that’s out now.” David took Trish by the arm. “How about letting us get our cars?”
Laughter rippled across the balloon-decked room. The camera held on Trish and David as they accepted the keys from the dealer, then followed them outside to the cars. Sunlight bounced off the windshield and sparkled on the cherry-red finish.
A reporter opened the door for Trish and winked at her as she slid onto the smooth black leather seat. “How’s it feel?” he asked.
Trish placed both hands on the steering wheel. She adjusted the seat and turned the ignition key. “Fantastic.” She smiled into the camera. “Come on, Rhonda. You get to ride first.”
Rhonda slid in next to her. “Awesome.” She stroked the gleaming dashboard. “Wow.”
Trish waved at David and Brad in the next car. “See you guys.”
“Drive carefully,” Marge couldn’t resist saying as they drove out onto the street.
Trish tooted the horn. “Shall we see how fast it’ll go?”
“I wouldn’t,” Rhonda giggled. “Every cop in Clark County’s gonna be watching for that hot young jockey with the red convertible.”
“Where shall we go?”
“I don’t know but don’t look back, we’re being followed.”
“Meet you at the Burgerville in Orchards,” Brad called as he and David pulled up alongside them.
“Yeah, we’ll let him get the ticket.” Trish hit the horn again, then stopped just as the light ahead turned red. A car full of boys behind them honked and waved. When Rhonda turned to look, they whistled and honked again.
“You know, this could get kinda fun.” Rhonda settled back in her seat, grinning from ear to ear.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, I mean…we might meet some new guys.…Who knows?”
If only my dad were here, Trish swallowed the thought. He’d be teasing Rhonda and me right now. She drove into the restaurant parking lot. More guys were clustered around Brad and David’s car.
Golden Filly Collection Two Page 6
