Regret Not a Moment (62 page)

“Boy oh boy, that Roll the Dice turned out to be a big disappointment as a runner.”

“Had good bloodlines, though,” Jesse remarked.

“What year was that? Fifty-eight? Fifty-nine?” Jeremiah wondered aloud.

“It was just before Jesse went to college,” Francesca said sharply. All the emotion of that heady summer evening came flooding back to her.

Francesca saw Celine’s eyes fix on her. She pretended not to see, focusing her green eyes on a distant horse. Now Celine turned her gaze to her husband. He looked at his watch, a solid-gold Piaget that had been her wedding present to him.

“I guess you need to be getting back to work.” Jesse addressed his father.

“I’ve got time for a Coke. Why don’t you let me show Celine around here. You and Frankie probably have lots of catching up to do.”

“Oh, not me!” Francesca said, almost before the words were out of Jeremiah’s mouth. She blushed as she realized her rudeness. “I mean… I’ve got something I have to do.” She looked from Celine to Jesse to Jeremiah with an expression like a trapped animal’s. “I… I’d love to visit with you and Celine later, Jesse, but I’ve got to go now,” Francesca fairly stammered, taking a few steps backward.

Jeremiah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Celine looked at her husband and saw an expression of hurt, then relief, cross his face before he carefully composed his features. And suddenly she understood with the sure instinct of a woman in love. There had been something between the two.

“Well, then, Francesca, good-bye.” Jesse held out his hand to the young woman.

Francesca slowly stretched her hand out to him. Their fingers met for the briefest of moments and their eyes locked. For a split second, Celine thought that her happy world was about to shatter. But before the thought was even complete, Francesca did a rapid about-face and walked away without a backward glance. Jesse watched her retreating figure for only a second, then turned back to his father.

He had loved Francesca! Celine thought. She felt confused, hurt. Celine wondered if she had been Jesse’s second choice. What had happened between her husband and Francesca? Questions deluged her mind. So lost in thought was she that she paid almost no attention when Jesse put his arm around her and drew her to him.

Then, suddenly, she realized, He’s mine. I have him. Whatever went before, I have him now. And with a wisdom beyond her years, she decided to leave her questions unasked.

Celine laced her arm around her husband’s waist and, despite the heat of the day, snuggled close to him.

“You newlyweds!” Jeremiah teased. “I guess Celine’s not interested in a private viewing of the stables.”

Jesse grinned. “We’ll see you later, Dad. We want to watch the big one with you.”

“We’ve been invited to watch from Devon’s box, you know,” said Jeremiah.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “How do you think her friends are going to like that?”

“Aw, they’re used to me by now. You haven’t been around for such a long time, I guess you didn’t know that I’ve got a regular spot beside her. He shook his head. “Change sure is slow coming, but it
is
coming, isn’t it?”

Jesse looked skeptically at his father, but the expression of hope on the older man’s face gentled him. “I hope so, Dad.” For a fleeting moment, his mind traveled back to the night Francesca had tried to convince him of almost the same thing. Then he pushed the memory to the back of his mind. And there, with the crowd milling about them and spirited horses prancing past, Jesse turned toward his wife and bent his head to hers. Oblivious to the stares of passersby, he kissed her, just as he had on their wedding day. This time his pledge to her was silent, but there was no misreading it. Celine knew it was a pledge for life.

DEVON shifted restlessly in her chair. She held a glass of lemonade from which she took nervous little sips, like a bird aware of a nearby cat as it drank from a pool of water.

Soon their friends would be joining John and her, but it was early yet; only the most committed of spectators (or those without guaranteed seats) had arrived at Belmont Park.

“I think I’d better get down to the paddock,” she told John with a glance at her wristwatch.

He leaned over and took her hand in his. “You were just down there a few minutes ago,” he teased gently.

She shot him a pleading look, knowing she was being overly anxious. “I know, but it bothers me that Kelly hasn’t shown up.”

John threw back his head and laughed. “Now you
know
Majors would rather die than miss this race. It’s the most important one of his career. He was probably just held up in traffic.” Majors had for the past year resisted using the Spartan quarters reserved for workers, preferring, as his income and importance grew, to lodge in nearby hotels. At Belmont Park, that meant one of New York City’s many fine establishments. His favorite was the Waldorf Towers, adjacent to the Waldorf-Astoria, where he could strut down the long corridor and assess the charms of the well-heeled female passersby. Majors was still a bachelor and to him New York was a fantasy world of beautiful, willing women.

“I shouldn’t expect someone who earns as much as Kelly to be content to stay in one of those awful shed rows out back, but it does annoy me that he cuts it so close before a big race.” Devon sighed.

“The day of the one-owner jockey is almost gone, Devon. Most of the new ones want to free-lance, going wherever the prize money and prestige is best. There are perks in being associated with Willowbrook, but there are also a few drawbacks. You’re probably not in a position to dictate what he does,” John remarked.

“Not unless I can find someone as good who wants to sign an exclusive deal with me,” said Devon pragmatically.

“I can think of only one person who fits that description.”

“Who?” Devon asked, puzzled.

“Your own daughter, my dear. Or haven’t you noticed how good she is?”

“Don’t be silly!” Devon exclaimed. “She’s much too young to replace Majors. Jeremiah agrees with me, too, or he wouldn’t be so careful about when he uses her.”

“Majors came to work for you when he was Francesca’s age,” John pointed out, raising his binoculars.

“Not as my lead man!” argued Devon. “Besides, if she’s so ready for this, why doesn’t Jeremiah tell me so?”

“Isn’t that obvious to you?” John asked, lowering his binoculars to meet Devon’s annoyed glare. “She’s a woman!”

“Are you accusing Jeremiah, of all people, of prejudice?” asked Devon, outraged by the suggestion.

“I’m not accusing him of anything. But he has spent his entire career in a world dominated by men. How many woman jockeys do you know?”

“But Jeremiah has spent his entire career working for me! A woman!”

John chuckled and kissed Devon’s hand. “That I know.” Then he continued on a more serious note. “But even though he works for a woman, he probably has a few ideas about the capability of a woman jockey versus a man.”

“He’s always very complimentary of Francesca,” Devon said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that he thinks Francesca is good. Or that one day he’ll give her a chance to test her mettle. I just think it seems to be coming slower for her than for a few less capable riders. Take that Luccioni fellow. He’s not as good as Francesca, but you’ve got him riding today.”

“He’s more experienced,” Devon said, defending the choice.

“Nevertheless, he’s not as good. He’s too cautious.” John was silent for a few moments in order to allow Devon to consider his words.

“I can remember so many years ago, Jeremiah and I talked about what it would be like for us in racing. I mean, with him being a Negro and me being a woman. We pledged to each other not to let those prejudices influence what we did.” Devon thought back to that moment in front of the Willowbrook stables.

Suddenly she remembered John’s support of Willy in his dispute with Devon. “How did you become such a champion of women? I can remember a time when you were very sensitive about my involvement in training.”

John gave her a rueful smile and shook his head. “I was a fool, I suppose. But we’ve already acknowledged the mistakes of our youth, I believe. I, for one, don’t intend to repeat this one when it comes to Francesca. As for Jeremiah, he probably isn’t even aware of what he’s doing. But don’t forget, he was a jockey before he was a trainer. And one of the world’s best. It would probably be hard for him to believe that a girl he watched grow up could ever be ready to take on that world. He knows how rough it is. Knows the prejudices. Part of him may want to protect Francesca from that. Part of him may not believe that a young woman has the strength to go through the battles he went through. And she
will
have battles. There are no women racing, even at the level she’s now involved in.”

“That’s not true, there’s—”

John interrupted. “I said at the level she’s
now
involved in. There are a few minor-league players. What Francesca is aiming for, however, is the major league.”

“And you think we’ve been unfair to her?”

“Or maybe unaware.”

“I’ll have to talk to Jeremiah about that,” Devon resolved.

“And I suppose you’d like to go down there right now,” John said with a comical sigh.

“Come on, you.” Devon sprang energetically from her seat and pulled John to a standing position.

John followed his wife through the crowd, his heart filling with pride as men turned to stare as the elegant woman passed. As usual for important races, Devon wore the Willowbrook colors of scarlet and black.

As they approached the paddock, they spotted Jeremiah, a worried expression on his face, conversing with two of the Willowbrook jockeys.

Devon knew immediately that something was wrong. “What’s the problem?” she called out as she approached the group.

A look of relief came over Jeremiah’s face as he saw Devon. “Am I glad to see you! I was just about to send someone to find you.”

“What’s the problem?” she repeated.

“There’s been an accident. Majors isn’t going to make it today.”

Devon gasped, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”

“A car accident on the way here.”

“How badly is he hurt?” John and Devon asked, almost simultaneously.

“Broken arm. Nothing that won’t heal. But he sure can’t race today,” said Jeremiah.

The color drained from Devon’s face. For a moment, she felt like fainting. Why, on this most important of days, had such a thing happened?
Damn
Majors for staying at the Waldorf! From now on, her jockeys would stay at the racecourse, no matter what. She would write it into their contracts. If times were changing, so would she. She would negotiate each race separately, just as many of her friends now did. But that didn’t solve her immediate problem. Devon looked at the jockeys standing near Jeremiah. She couldn’t trust any of them with the Belmont Stakes!

“Remember what we talked about before?” John whispered in her ear.

“You can’t mean that! Not this race! That’s out of the question.” She snapped her head around to face Jeremiah. “We need to talk in private,” she said, beckoning for him to follow her. She held on to John’s hand, making him part of the group. Even in her anger and confusion, she refused to repeat her earlier mistake of excluding John from involvement in her career. She respected his views, and intended that he should always know that.

“What do you propose?” she asked the trainer.

“Anyone I would have used is taken. We could scratch our entry, I suppose.” Jeremiah gave a shrug that indicated he was at a loss.

“Scratch our chance at the Triple Crown! Not on your life!” declared Devon.

“Well, Luccioni’s the best of the bunch. But this is the longest race of the Triple Crown. One and a half miles. Long races aren’t Luccioni’s strong point.”

“Do you think Francesca could do it?” John interjected. Devon gave him a look of exasperation. She agreed with John that she and Jeremiah had perhaps overlooked her daughter’s skills, but this was the Triple Crown, for God’s sake!

But Jeremiah’s expression was not dismissive, as Devon would have expected. He scratched his head for a moment as he turned the idea over. “Did you know that she and King of Hearts broke the track record in exercise the other day?” he asked Devon.

“I heard. But you know that a lot of the others probably held back.”

“Still, it
was
the track record.”

Devon looked skeptical. “You really think she can do it?”

“I know she’s hungry for it. Hell, they all are. But she’s got even more to prove than most.” He nodded knowingly. “I’ve been there and I can tell you that that kind of motivation can sure light a fire under you.”

“Has she got the stamina for a race like that?”

“She’s got more stamina than any of these guys. That’s why she’s best at the long haul,” Jeremiah said. “And she’s got something else, too. She’s got guts.”

A look of worry crossed Devon’s features. She knew her daughter, given the opportunity, would stop at nothing to win this race. She would take risks, she would put herself in danger. That was the mark of a great jockey, of course, but was Francesca capable of controlling the situation.”

“You’ve got to give her a chance some time,” John said softly. “Why not now, when you really have nothing to lose?”

“Nothing to lose?” Devon cried. “Have you forgotten Morgan?”

There was shocked silence from the trio. Devon’s words were like a hatchet thrown into the side of a tree. They hit their mark with a dull, deadly thud.

John was the first to speak. “The day you decided to let her begin her career at Willowbrook, you had to come to terms with that possibility. Nothing has changed since then. And you can’t now decide, after she’s devoted four years to this, not to allow her to advance any further just because you’re afraid for her.”

Devon looked desperately at Jeremiah, pleading with her eyes for him to find a reason to prevent Francesca from riding in the Belmont Stakes. But her old friend, her staunchest ally, just shook his head. “He’s right, you know.”

Devon spun on her heel and faced the track. At the moment, it was empty. In her imagination, it became that wintry bridle path where Morgan had fallen to her death. She shuddered.