Golden Filly Collection One (12 page)

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Here, let me help you sit up, then I’ll get you a drink. We’ll do this in stages.” After easing Trish into a sitting position, her feet on the floor, Marge said, “Now, wait till I come back before you attempt anything else.”

Trish nodded. No danger of that. At least the room had stopped tilting. She flexed her fingers and toes.

The bathroom might as well have been on the moon, it seemed so far away.

An hour later, after a long hot soak in the tub, the track dirt washed out of her hair, Trish hobbled back to bed under her own steam. She was out the instant her head hit the pillow.

The bed and bathroom were Tricia’s domain until she woke late Sunday afternoon. She stretched, gently checking out each limb. Her arms were still sore, her back and legs ached, but her head was clear. Her stomach—starved. She drank the water left on her nightstand, and slowly rolled over, pushing herself up and easing her feet to the floor. Every back and hip muscle screamed in protest as she stood up. She hesitated, then tottered toward the kitchen, in favor of her hunger pangs.

The note on the counter told her David was at the stables and her mother at the hospital. A plate of food was fixed for her in the fridge.

By the time Trish had eaten and taken a hot shower, she felt fairly close to being human again. Getting up and down from a chair was painful, but not agony. She eased herself down in one and dialed the hospital.

“Dad?” She hesitated at the rough voice that answered the phone.

“Tee, how are you?” Rough voice or not, no one but her father said her name just that way.

“I’ll live. I think we ought to sue the truck that ran over me, though.”

“Thank God you fell so clean. Nothing broken.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky.”

“Not luck, Trish. You have good guardian angels.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a shame I didn’t land on one of them. It would have been softer than the ground.”

“How’s Gatesby?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up and David’s down at the stable.”

“Your mom left a few minutes ago. I’m so thankful you’re all right.”

“How are you doing?” Trish scrunched around on the chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. “You sound awful, but stronger.”

“I am. If I do all right through the next three treatments, they’re saying I can come home Wednesday.”

“Good.” Trish nodded. “I miss you.” Where were the words to tell him how much she missed him, how much she needed him? The phone was such a poor substitute for the real thing.

“Maybe you’ll feel up to coming in tomorrow. I want to make sure none of you are keeping anything from me, like a cast on your arm or leg.”

“Dad, we wouldn’t do that.” Trish grinned at the thought. “The only thing good about a cast would be that you could sign it for me.”

“I miss you, Tee.” Her father cleared his throat. “Will you come?”

Trish felt the weight of the universe on her shoulders. Her chin sank to her chest.
Go see him,
her little voice nagged.
What’s the matter anyway? Scared? What’s hard about going to a hospital?

“Dad, I can’t.” The words tore at her heart. “I…ah…I…” She fell silent.

“It’s okay, Trish, I understand.” His voice came softly over the wire. “I’ll see you Wednesday, and remember, I love you.”

She sniffed and swallowed the tears, almost choking on the boulder at the back of her throat. “Bye.” She put the receiver down and her head on her arms.
Why can’t I go see him in the hospital? I’m glad he understands, because I sure don’t.

The phone rang again just as she ordered her muscles to stand her up. “Runnin’ On Farm.”

“Trish, are you all right?” Rhonda’s tone carried a note of panic.

“Well, I will be. Right now even this chair needs a pillow. I landed flat out on my back. At least I’ve learned firsthand how to fall right. How’d you find out?”

“Brad was just here.”

“Hey, how’d the show go?” Trish searched for a more comfortable position.

“Well, I placed in the top ten in the open jumping class.”

“How far up?”

“Number ten.” Rhonda laughed. “But at least I placed. And one of the other breeders talked to me about riding for him sometime.”

“They should. You’re one of the best.” Trish chewed on her lip. “Sure wish I coulda been there.”

“I know. But there’ll be other events. How’s your dad?”

“Maybe coming home Wednesday. He sounds awful.” Trish squirmed again. “Hey, my rear’s killing me. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Bye.” The receivers clicked simultaneously.

Trish limped only as far as the kitchen door when the phone rang again. She hesitated only a moment before picking it up. “Runnin’ On Farm.”

“Hi, Trish,” a deep voice said in her ear. “This is Pastor Ron. Just wanted to say we missed you this evening and make sure you’re all right.”

“I’ve been better.” Trish glanced at the chair and eased her elbows onto the counter instead. “Uh-oh. I just found another bruise.”

“Bad, huh?”

“Well, at least nothing’s broken. And most of my bruises won’t show. I’ll probably walk funny for a day or two.”

“Trish, we’re all praying for your father. The kids met tonight up by the altar for a special prayer session for your dad and for you too.”

Trish tried to swallow around her resident lump. “Thanks.”

“I’m here when you need me. Remember that.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon. Tell everyone hello for me. And all of us.”

“I will. Thanks.” Trish wiped away a renegade tear as she put the phone down.

Trish was back at the barns on Monday morning, and although she was moving slowly, she was moving. “Well, Gatesby, old man,” she said as she stopped at his stall, “hear you’re in about the same shape I’m in. How about a nice walk this afternoon?” She stroked his neck, keeping a firm hand on his nose. She didn’t feel like having another bruise on her shoulder.

“He’s not limping anymore.” David joined her. “I’ve been bathing his shoulder in liniment. We should have used it on you.”

“Should have.” She retrieved her goggles and helmet from the tack room. With her jacket sleeve, she rubbed the dust from the helmet.
Good thing I was wearing this thing,
she thought as she secured the chin strap. She snapped her goggles onto her helmet as she approached Spitfire.
I’m sure glad Dad taught us to use every safety precaution. And how to fall. What if I’d tensed up?

“Your seat feel up to sitting up there?” David asked as she gingerly settled herself into the saddle.

“Not really, but then the thought of a desk at school isn’t too hot an idea either.” She leaned forward to rub her horse’s neck. “And do you think I can get out of either?”

David shook his head. “Just be careful, okay? Work him long and slow and I’ll take care of the others.” He led her toward the track. “And you
have
to be on time today. I’ll signal you at quarter to seven.”

“Yes,
mother
.” Trish turned Spitfire clockwise on the track and grimaced when he switched from a walk to a trot. Maybe that liniment wasn’t such a bad idea.

By Wednesday Trish felt like she was behind by three days again. She used every spare minute at school, and if it hadn’t been for chemistry, she would have been all right. However, when Brad turned into the drive, her low spirits leaped into high. The family car was parked in front of the house.

Trish just waved in answer to Brad’s “See you in a while” and dashed for the door.

“Dad.” She barely recognized the man lying in the recliner. Fear clutched her throat and strangled her stomach. She dropped her books on the sofa and tiptoed over to the sleeping figure.

What have they done to you?
She almost said it aloud. He looked old and broken, like a toy someone had discarded and then hid under a bright quilt. When she touched his hand, she flinched at the deep purple and black bruises on his raised veins.

His eyes flickered open and a barely familiar smile lifted his sagging cheeks. “Tee.” She didn’t recognize the voice either. It rasped gray, like his face.

Tricia knelt on the floor beside the arm of the chair and laid her cheek on her father’s hand. “I’m glad you’re home, Dad.” She felt his other hand tenderly smooth her hair back from her face.
God!
her soul raged at the heavens.
What have you done to him? I thought you were making him better.

“I’m just worn out from the treatment today and the trip home. Tomorrow I’ll be better, you’ll see,” he managed.

Trish nodded. “I better get down and work those beasts.” She forced herself to drop a kiss on his head. “See you later.”

Trish squared her shoulders and kept her stride steady as she left the room. The same iron control enabled her to change clothes and get out the door. The look she gave her mother could have slashed steel.

“David!” She ignored Caesar trotting by her side. She ignored the nickered greetings from the horses. “David!” Her shout sent Spitfire drumming a heel against the wall. Trish ignored that too. She jogged the length of the stables to find David down in the yearling pasture. She paused a moment while he latched the gate in front of the two curious colts. Her shout, “David!” cut off his whistle mid-tune.

“What’s wrong?” He strode up the lane, breaking into a trot at the expression on her face.

“David Lee Evanston.”

He stopped short.

“What’d I do?”

“You never told me.”

David reached out and touched her arm. “You’ve seen Dad.”

Trish nodded, her jaw set like a pit bull about to attack. “Why didn’t you and Mom tell me how bad he is?”

“We tried. But you wouldn’t go see for yourself, remember? We tried to ease you into it. Why do you think Mom’s been with him all the time? Trish, for heaven’s sake, he has cancer and the doctors think he’s going to die.”

“My dad’s
not
going to die.” Trish spun around. The tears she held back threatened to drown her. She fought the bitter bile rising from her stomach and burning her throat. In fact, burning was what she felt all over. Her brain, her heart, down to her toes. Like a forest fire out of control.

“Tee.” David tried to stop her.

“Don’t call me that.” Trish spun away and sprinted down the driveway, her pumping hands pummeling the horror of it all.
Dad calls me Tee, and you say he’s dying.
The thoughts were like flames licking up trees.
He can’t be dying. No! God, you don’t love us. you don’t even care. You’re a liar. I hate you!