Ripples Through Time (7 page)

1963 -
Rickie Greenwood

“How bad did it get?” I ask. “If you don’t mind my
asking.”

Calvin waves noncommittally. “Bad. Mostly about money.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Most people argue about money,” he agrees.

“I know me and my wife do. Not often, but it gets
bitter.”

“I was stubborn,” Calvin says. “I thought I could handle
things with the horses. It took me a long time to learn that the horses weren’t
going to pay the bills. I guess it took me a while to grow up. To stop buying
my toys and wasting time.”

“You figured it out,” I say. “That’s more than can be
said for a lot of people.”

“At a great cost,” Calvin replies. “To Rickie…”

“I’m hungry,” Rickie said, grabbing his stomach. His mom
dragged him along through the fairgrounds at the racetrack. They weaved past a
family of six and around a puddle of water on the ground from a recent rain.

The scents of cooking food wafted in the air, enticing in
their complexity.  Right now he would have eaten them, even the fried
vegetables he hated so much. Even they seemed good.

“I know,” his mom said. She was dressed in trousers and a
loose fitting blouse. Her hair was hastily drawn back into a bun and loose
strands of black hair fluttered across her face. “I’m hungry too.”

Rickie groaned. “When can we get something to eat?”

“Tonight,” Emily said, then smiled down at him. It was a sad
smile. “Tonight we can have a big dinner.”

“Why not now?” Rickie asked. He pointed at one of the stands
with funnel cakes and fresh squeezed lemonade. “They’re selling stuff in that
booth right there.”

Emily dragged him past, weaving her way through the crowd.
She didn’t respond, pretending she never even heard him. He was used to his
parents pretending they didn’t hear him when they didn’t like what he had to
say.

It was a cloudy day with the sun only making the briefest of
appearances. At least it wasn’t too cold this late in the season. His dad said
that was a good thing, and he agreed. He really, really didn’t like snow.

The place was packed and they had to stop to let large
groups pass. Emily looked neither right nor left, studiously ignoring the
entertainment around her. Rickie couldn’t believe her. It wasn’t fair to bring
him to the excitement and activity of the fairground and deprive him of any
enjoyment. He loved coming to the fair, and usually he got to play games with
his mom and eat while his dad raced his horses.

But now she wasn’t letting him do 
anything. 
That
was like torture.

There was delicious smelling food everywhere around them.
That was part of why he enjoyed the county fairs so much: caramel apples, corn
dogs, funnel cakes. They had the best treats.

But his mom kept telling him that he couldn’t have any of
it.

They moved through the midway quickly, passing the booths
and grandstand and weaving around the turn in the track. They were heading for
the barns on the far side, along the backstretch. That’s where his father was
at, getting ready for the eighth race when Mountaineer was up.

Emily pulled Rickie to a stop near the race entrance,
letting a few horses move past them onto the tracks. There were a dozen out
there right now, some jogging to stay loose, some doing warm up laps or
sprints. The driver’s wore colorful uniforms, some green, some blue, usually
backed with white or gray. Someday Rickie would grow up and be a professional
race driver. And he would be the best driver around.

“Calvin,” Emily called, rushing across when the crowd
thinned out. Rickie spotted his father up ahead, sitting on a tack trunk and
feeding Jason.

Baby Jason had his eyes closed. He wasn’t even one year old.
Rickie was almost four. He’d liked Jason at first when his parents brought him
home. He was neat. But after a while, he just got annoying. He cried a lot,
wouldn’t shut up no matter 
how 
many times you told him to, and
got all of the attention.

“Hey Mellie,” Calvin said, handing the baby to his wife. He
was dirty, covered in oil from the tack and dirt from the track and there were
smudges of black stuff on his face. He rubbed Rickie’s hair and stood up. “Good
timing. I have to get Mountaineer ready to race.”

“How’s he doing?” Emily asked, gently rocking Jason. Rickie
climbed up onto the tack trunk next to his dad.

“He’s ready,” Calvin said. “And the purse is enough that we
can pay all the bills even if he gets second.”

“He better be because some of those bills are a few months
late and if we don’t—”

Calvin reached forward and put a dirty finger across Emily’s
lip. “Shh,” he said, gently. He smiled. “He’s going to win. He’s the best horse
in the race. He 
has
 to win.”

Emily smiled back at him, but it was a strained smile. “Okay,
Cal,” she said. “Did you ever talk to Dan about that job?”

Calvin shrugged absently. “I have his number. But it won’t
matter. After tonight we’ll have enough money that I won’t have to worry about
it.”

“You should anyway,” Emily said. “I don’t like having to
worry about whether…”

He shook his head. “Trust me, it won’t matter. After he wins
we can pay off the bills and buy that other horse I told you about. Then we’ll
have three in the stables and enough money coming in to sit comfortably.”

Emily took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Calvin,” she
said, her voice soft. “We have children now. We’re hungry, and—”

“The seventh is about to start,” Calvin interrupted. “Only
one more until Mountaineer is up. Don’t worry, he’s going to win. Everything
will be just fine.”

He leaned in quick and kissed Emily on the cheek. Then he
turned and rushed farther into the barn, weaving around horses lined in the
halls and around drivers and trainers getting ready for the seventh race.

Rickie watched him go and then looked back at his mom. A
tear ran down her cheek and she looked sad.

“
Now 
can we get food?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not yet, Rickie,” she said, looking
helpless. “Come on, let’s go watch the race.”

Mountaineer was a big horse. Rickie liked him because he was
bigger than the other horses. That meant he was stronger. Calvin told him so
when he first bought the big gelding. He was also a fast horse, winning most of
the races he was in.

But he hadn’t raced in a while. He’d hurt his leg in his
last start and hadn’t been able to compete for a few months. That sucked,
because Rickie loved going to the track to watch him race. One day Rickie would
be Mountaineer’s sulky driver and race in all the county fairs. And together
they would win all of the races.

Rickie watched Calvin lead the horse to the track beside the
fence. There were seven in this race, but Mountaineer was bigger than any of
them. He would win easy.

“Why do we have to watch from here?” he asked his mother,
standing up against the fence and trying to see over. It was no use. The fence
was too high. “The finish line is on the other side of the track.”

“This is where the trainers watch.”

“That’s stupid,” Rickie said. “How can they 
see 
anything
over here?”

“The other side is for the fans,” said his mother.

“We normally watch from up there,” he said, pointing to the
grandstand. “You always get us seats.”

“We can’t afford them right now,” Emily replied quietly.

“But I can’t 
see
,” he said.

“Wait for your father to get here,” Emily replied with a
sigh, rocking baby Jason in her arms. The little monster had started crying a
few minutes earlier and wouldn’t stop. He was probably hungry.

Rickie’s stomach grumbled. So was he. “I’m still hungry,” he
said.

She sighed. “After the race we can eat,” she said.

“Promise?”

She smiled down at him. “Promise.”

Calvin appeared behind Rickie and lifted him into the air.
Rickie let out a sudden squeal at the motion before being set on his father’s
shoulders. “Who’s ready to watch a horse race?” Calvin asked.

“Me!” Rickie said.

“Me too,” Calvin said with a chuckle. “And if Mountaineer
wins, we all get to go to the winner’s circle and get our picture taken.”

“Calvin,” Emily said, her voice pleading. She grabbed his
arm. “If he doesn’t win…”

“Please just shut up,” Calvin said, his voice hard. It was
the voice he got when he was mad. Something that didn’t happen very often.
There were cracks in his calm exterior, and when he looked over at Emily his
eyes were haunted. “You think I 
don’t 
know we need him to
win?”

Emily looked unhappy, but she didn’t say anything else.

The horses lined up behind the gate and the announcer blared
over the speakers. Rickie idly twirled his dad’s hair from his high post,
watching the horses fall into position behind the gate. It gradually built up
speed.

The gate broke and the horses thinned out into a line. Rickie
could hear shouting from the grandstand and the 
thud, thud, thud
 from
the horse’s hooves. They blended together into a steady pressure on his ear
drums.

Mountaineer ended up somewhere in the middle of the pack. Rickie
couldn’t tell exactly which one was Mountaineer. From a distance they all
looked alike. “Where is he?”

“Sitting fourth?” Calvin answered. “The one with blue
colors.”

“Is that good?”

“It is fine,” Calvin replied. He turned his attention back
to the race and pumped his fist. “Come on, Mountaineer.”

“Come on, Mountaineer,” Rickie echoed, pumping his fist.

The horses rounded the backstretch, packed tightly together.
The thundering hooves washed over the gathered onlookers on the backstretch,
followed by a rush of air. It smelled of dirt mixed with the smell of horse
sweat and rough leather.

“Come on, Mountaineer,” Rickie shouted. His voice was
drowned out by the voices of other trainers and owners all around him. People
shouting for their horse to win. They didn’t know what Rickie knew. He 
knew 
his
horse was going to win. And then he would get to go to the winner’s circle and
get his picture taken. That was his favorite part. “Come on!”

The pack of horses moved into the final turn, spreading out
into a line four wide in the stretch. There was a split in the rolling gray
clouds overhead, bathing the track in sunlight.

Mountaineer worked up alongside the leaders, powering past them
to take the lead. His powerful muscles rolled and his legs pumped across the
dirt, kicking up pieces of sand and gravel.

He took the lead. Two lengths. Three out ahead. He left the
pack behind. “Come on, Mountaineer!” Calvin, Emily, and Rickie all shouted. “Come
on, you can do it!”

He was out front, unstoppable on his charge down the
stretch.

And then he faltered.

Calvin stopped shouting.

One length lead.

Rickie felt his father’s shoulders slump beneath him.

Then Mountaineer was passed by, slipping further into the
pack. When the horses crossed the finish line Mountaineer was trailing at
sixth.

A moment of stunned silence passed. Calvin didn’t speak.
Emily didn’t speak. Rickie scrunched his face up in confusion. He watched the
horses pull up into the turn after the race, unsure exactly what had happened. “Did
he win?” he asked.

“No,” Emily said after a brief hesitation.

“Then what happened?”

This time neither parent responded. Calvin reached up and
gently set Rickie on the ground. There was a stunned expression on his face and
he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. His mouth was hanging
open. 

Calvin turned away from them and started walking toward the
barn. Emily followed after, carrying baby Jason, and Rickie followed them.

“Calvin,” she said. “Calvin, what are we going to do? We
don’t have any money.”

He didn’t answer, just kept walking.

“We don’t even have enough gas to get home tonight, and he
gets 
nothing
 for sixth place. Calvin, what are we going to
do?”

Calvin sat down on the tack trunk in front of Mountaineer’s
stall, looked up at Emily, and said: “I don’t know.”

And then he started crying.

Rickie stared in shock. He’d never seen his father cry.
Ever. More than that, he didn’t think his father was 
capable 
of
crying. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Rickie’s stomach grumbled. It was painful, and he groaned. “I’m
hungry, mom,” he said.

Emily ignored him. “Calvin, maybe that job is still
available. You could call Dan.”

“There was no job,” he said, still crying.

Emily’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean, no job?”

“I mean that there was no job. There was never a job. I
didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I’ve been to six different
places, and no one is hiring. Dan said he would hire me in a heartbeat, if he
could. But there’s nothing open. There is 
nothing.
”

“Cal,” she said, he voice sad and angry at the same time.  “You
should have 
told 
me.”

“I’m sorry, I thought that if he won we could pay off our
bills and move. And then start over. Somewhere new. We needed this.
I 
needed
this.”

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Rickie said.

“Not now, Rickie,” she said. “Calvin, we have to do
something. We need money. I don’t care what you 
thought 
you
could do or what you planned. We need to do something right now, or—”

“But you 
promised—” 
Rickie started to say,
tugging on his mom’s shirt.

“I said not now Rickie!” she yelled.

And suddenly she turned, shifting Jason to her left arm, and
slapped Rickie across the face with her right hand.