My Dearest Cal (23 page)
Authors: Sherryl Woods
As they walked into the clubhouse, they were met by noise. Thousands were jammed into the stands and filled the infield. Mint juleps seemed to be the drink of the day, though Marilou was far too nervous to consider putting alcohol on a stomach that was already rolling. As they cut a path through the crowd to the box Cal had taken, Marilou’s gaze suddenly shot ahead and found the tall, staid form of his grandmother. Though the older woman tried hard to maintain a disapproving frown, excitement snapped in her eyes as she drew Cal into an embrace.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
“I figured if this was something you insist on doing, I’d better know why,” she said. “You say this horse of yours is good?”
“The best,” Marilou told her.
“Then if I put two dollars on her to show, I won’t be wasting my money?”
Cal grinned. “That kind of bet won’t make you rich, Grandmother, but it should be safe enough. Where’s Joshua? I thought he was bringing you.”
“He dropped me off. Said he had an errand to run. I expect he’ll be back before too long.”
Just then they heard his voice. “I’m here,” he said, edging his way toward them.
Marilou turned around, a smile on her face. Then she caught Cal’s expression. He appeared stunned. His grandmother turned pale, then sank into her seat.
“What is it?” Marilou said, taking an instinctively protective step closer to Cal.
He swallowed hard, his gaze never shifting away from Joshua and the two people behind him. Marilou hadn’t even realized they were all together until she’d seen Cal’s expression.
The woman wore a floppy white hat, a lovely silk dress and shoes that had probably come from the designer salon at Neiman-Marcus. She exuded money and self-confidence. The man, who stood shoulder to shoulder to her in height, was gray-haired and hesitant, though he had a glint of sharp intelligence in his eyes that age hadn’t dimmed.
“Hello, Mother, Father,” Cal said, his voice tight as he directed a forbidding look at Joshua.
“Your parents,” Marilou breathed. When Cal remained stiffly silent, she introduced herself, then stepped aside so they could enter the box. There was another flaring of tension when they spotted Mrs. McDonald.
Joshua caught Marilou’s elbow and pulled her back
when she moved to join them. “Cal’s probably going to have my hide for this, but I thought it was time.”
She grinned at him. “You weren’t thinking of running out on us now, were you?”
He grinned back. “Actually, I planned to do exactly that. You’ll need the seats. Cal intended them for me and my date. All things considered, I think I’ll be safer down at the rail.”
Marilou let him go, then went to her seat at Cal’s side. She tried to make small talk, but everyone was too tense to respond. It was only when the bugle blew to announce that the horses were coming onto the track for the Derby that they began to relax. Cal’s father asked about Dawn’s Magic. Marilou told about watching the horse being born. Cal talked about his breeding. Marilou took bets for all of them into the clubhouse windows and placed them. By the time she came back, some sort of uneasy truce seemed to reign.
“She looks good,” Marilou exclaimed when Dawn’s Magic stepped onto the track as the strains of My Old Kentucky Home wafted through the air. “Don’t you think she looks wonderful?”
Cal managed a grin. “The fact that she’s here at all is an honor,” he reminded her.
“I don’t want to hear that garbage. You sound like Chaney. She’s going to win the race.” She smiled at him impishly. “And I’ll beat you down to the winner’s circle.”
His arm circled her waist. “That’s a bet.”
While Cal focused his binoculars on the post parade, Marilou attached her telephoto lens and snapped
pictures. It seemed to take only seconds before the horses were in the gate.
“They’re off!” the track announcer said, and a roar went up from the crowd.
Dawn’s Magic broke well from her gate on the outside and moved quickly to a slot just off the lead. It was exactly where Reeve had wanted her. The track was fast, not muddy, but the filly wasn’t used to having dirt kicked in her face. He’d worried what she would do if she fell back too far. She was in third and only three-quarters of a length off the pace as they rounded the first turn.
“She’s going to do it,” Marilou said confidently.
“Sweetheart, it’s a long race,” Cal warned.
“But she’s like me. We’re both the kind who go the distance.”
“If she has your heart, then she’ll definitely take it,” he said, giving her a quick squeeze before returning his attention to the backstretch, where two of the favorites were beginning to make their moves. His grandmother’s gaze was riveted on the pack of horses speeding for the next turn. As they came flying around the far side of the oval track, Dawn’s Magic was almost neck and neck with the leader.
“Come on, baby,” Marilou whispered, her camera forgotten. “You can do it.”
Cal went absolutely still as the horses turned for home. Dawn’s Magic’s fell back to third, and Marilou’s heart sank. That usually spelled the beginning of the end. Horses often gave up after falling behind.
“Come on,” she pleaded, her hands clenched. Cal
took one of them and massaged the tension away, until she folded her hand around his. Dawn Magic’s jockey showed her his whip then, flicking her lightly on the neck. The gallant horse dug deep into some inner reserve and began to move, a thousand pounds of incredible muscle supported by frail ankles and driven by heart.
With less than a length to go, she had caught up with the favorite and the crowd was going wild. Marilou strained but couldn’t hear the final call as they tore across the finish line. Her gaze shot to Cal’s, as did everyone else’s in the box. The tote board flashed Photo in giant letters to indicate that it was too close to call. The stewards would review films again and again, checking for the fraction of an inch between victory and defeat.
As if he couldn’t bear the waiting, Cal focused his binoculars again on the horses as they were riding out around the far side of the track.
“Is she okay?” Marilou asked him, her heart in her throat.
He grinned and shook his head. “Looks to me like she’d like to go for another quarter mile or so.”
“I told you,” she said. “I told you she had it in her.”
He hugged her. “So you did.”
Just at that instant, Dawn’s Magic’s number twelve went into the first place spot on the tote board. The stands exploded with sound—cheers from those with winning tickets and even appreciative applause from
those who’d recognized that Dawn’s Magic had the makings of a Triple Crown champion.
Cal grabbed Marilou’s hand and started from the box. Marilou held her breath and sent him a silent message. After just an instant’s hesitation, he turned to his family.
“Come with us,” he said, his voice choked. “This should be a family celebration.”
Marilou reached for his grandmother’s arm and helped her up, but then his mother slipped into place on her other side. “Let me walk with you, Mother,” she said hesitantly. “We have a lot to talk about.”
A slow smile spread across Mrs. McDonald’s face, and she winked at Cal. “Maybe we’ll talk about me buying into that Thoroughbred operation of yours,” she said slyly.
Cal linked his arm through hers. “The only way you’re getting a piece of that action, Grandmother, is at the two-dollar window.”
Marilou listened to the start of the familiar bickering, felt the slow easing of twenty years of tension, and kept her eyes on the love that was finally flowering again. It would need a lot of tending, a lot of nurturing, but it would grow. She would do her best to see to it.
Family, she thought with a tug of real longing. Then Cal reached for her hand and the longing fled, chased away forever by the strong, loving man at her side.
For years afterward, that moment would be captured for her with one snap of the track photographer’s
shutter. Five people, eyes brimming with tears, smiling and holding hands while Dawn’s Magic nuzzled Marilou’s pocket for the carrot that was hidden there.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from
WILLOW BROOK ROAD
by Sherryl Woods.
“Sherryl Woods writes emotionally satisfying novels about family, friendship and home. Truly feel-great reads!”
—#1
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by Sherryl Woods
1
T
he original Mick O’Brien–designed cottage on Willow Brook Road had been built with weathered gray shingles, white trim and a tiny back porch barely big enough for two rockers side by side. They faced Willow Brook, which fed into the Chesapeake Bay. The backyard sloped gently to the brook, with the graceful branches of a trademark weeping willow touching the lawn at the water’s edge. The peaceful setting was just right for quiet conversation or relaxing with a good book.
In front the cottage featured a small yard with an actual white picket fence and a climbing yellow rosebush that tumbled over it with a profusion of fragrant blooms. Bright red and hot-pink geraniums filled pots on the stoop in a vibrant display of clashing colors. The property oozed picturesque charm.
With three cozy bedrooms and a fireplace in the living room and a surprisingly large eat-in kitchen, it was the perfect Chesapeake Shores vacation getaway or a starter home for a small family, but Carrie Winters had been living there alone and at loose ends for almost six months now. The only personal touch she’d added beyond the mismatched furniture she’d acquired from various family attics was the portrait of the whole O’Brien family taken at the Christmas wedding of her twin, Caitlyn.
