The One Who Remembers (pg-13)

[syrinx]

The One Who Remembers
By Syrinx
Rating: PG-13
REPOST. I never moved this baby over to the new board, but now I have. Enjoy. Smile

a/n: Remember when I said I wasn't going to write the Cindy Series anymore, but I would supplement with a few short stories? Well, I was bitten by the Jack/Cindy bug the other day and now I have to (as in right now, quick!) give you this. This story takes place after Saratoga Summer (so please read that if you haven't already) by about eight months or so. It's actually my version of an event that we are told happened in the Thoroughbred Series (remember Honor and Glory?) but have not as of yet seen. This is only the first part. I was going to post all three parts at once, but I need a little encouragement. Feedback/comments/etc. are welcomed with open arms! Smile


Part I: Manifestations

The morning was creeping up between the spires, a warm dark reddish orange, coloring unearthly hues on the bodies of horses as they moved without noticing the shift in the light. Their fragile legs kept drumming along over the track while their dark eyes glinted, reflecting the fiery sunrise. Cool air hung invisible between their bodies, plumed smoky through their nostrils, swept out of their way as they ran.

Cindy sat motionless on the back of an equally silent filly, squinting at the angry bright crown of the sun as it began to rise between the twin spires. Churchill Downs was bathed in bloody red, a clear omen in the morning of the Kentucky Oaks. She paid it no mind, turning the filly with a soft word and getting back to business.

There were reporters along the rail as the filly danced by the stands of the track, holding her head high and directing one wary brown eye over their dim faces. Cindy could feel their eyes running down the filly’s dappled body, checking out the way she went. There was no guessing at what they were thinking; Cindy already knew just by looking at them. This tenacious filly who had beaten colts in the Arkansas Derby was looking to do it again in the Kentucky Derby and bring racing to its knees, much like it had done before Winning Colors, Genuine Risk, Ashleigh’s Wonder. People were discounting her, wondering why she wasn’t running in the Kentucky Oaks where she was more assured a win, looking at the owner for explanations.

Ashleigh Griffen wasn’t talking. The filly was running. And that was the end of it.

Cindy moved the filly past the lineup and let her jog the rest of the way to the gap, where her father was leaning against the white rail with a gaunt expression on his face. It wasn’t the filly that caused this, Cindy knew. The Kentucky Derby had a way of sucking the life out of those that were too close to the center. With three horses training for the same race, Ian McLean had seen the front lines and it was showing.

"How did she feel?" he asked as Cindy tugged the filly to a gentle stop and gave her a pat on the neck.

"Like she’s ready," Cindy responded, jumping down as soon as Len had a firm hold on the filly’s bridle.

Ian nodded silently and smiled at Len, who walked by with the filly stepping lightly on her toes.

"You look tired, Dad," Cindy observed, stepping off the track after the filly, resting against the rail next to him. Ian chuckled lightly at her concern.

"Don’t worry about me," Ian informed her. "This is well-known territory, you know that."

"I’d feel better if you found someone else to ride the filly," Cindy admitted, watching his jaw tighten a little as she spoke. "I’m sure things would lighten up a little around here if I weren’t around the stables so much. I know Ashleigh has her reserves…"

"Cindy," Ian interrupted. "This was Ashleigh’s idea in the first place. You riding Glow has nothing to do with me."

"Come on, Dad," Cindy sighed, pushing back a few strands of loose hair that had worked out of her ponytail. "I know what you guys talk about. If this is Ashleigh’s idea of charity you can tell her I don’t need or want it."

"We all know you don’t need charity," Ian told her. "You’re very distinguished in New York…"

"That’s not what I meant," Cindy murmured, looking down at her shoes. Ian sighed and nodded, patting her on the back.

"I know, honey," Ian said. "But that was a long time ago."

"I don’t think time matters much to Ashleigh," Cindy said, glancing back out at the grandstand before looking at her father, who pressed his lips together for a moment.

"She’s trying," Ian assured her, hugging her around the shoulders. "She’s trying."

~

Cindy walked down the dirt aisle of Lucas’ barn, past the white cinder block walls and the open stalls. Horses stood in deep straw bedding, hanging their heads against burgundy and white stall guards, ripping determinedly at the large hay nets stationed against each opening. They had been here a little over a week, but the horses looked like they had been here forever.

She passed by the animals, running her hand down their necks and faces. Wonderment, the big chestnut son of Wonder’s Champion, who had won the Derby Trial on opening day. Sunday Punch, Lucas’ gray sprinter, who was set to make a return in the Churchill Downs Handicap after several months out of training with a sprain. Silvan, the burly pale son of Heavenly Choir, who would run in the Woodford Reserve Turf Classic. In the last stall was Hansea, Savage Girl’s dark brown daughter, who was to run later that day in the Oaks.

Cindy stopped in front of Hansea, giving the wild filly a long look. They had started her three-year-old campaign quietly and without much notice at Aqueduct with an allowance race. Then came the Busanda and then the Busher. The Comely was her biggest accomplishment, winning by four lengths. Hansea was noticed then, so Lucas put her on the plane to Louisville with the rest. Here they were the long shots in a field of dazzling jewels.

"This is your biggest thing, you know," Cindy told the filly, holding onto her halter and looking into Hansea’s big brown eyes.

"You think she knows that?" came a soft laugh behind her.

Cindy glanced back, looking at Jack with a smile.

"Well, what do you think she knows?" Cindy asked, stroking the filly’s warm neck.

"Other than being a damned fool?" Jack returned, staying where he was against the wall.

"Hey," Cindy admonished, letting go of the filly’s halter when Hansea turned back into the stall, milling nervously.

"So how’s the Whitebrook crew?" Jack asked.

"It’s almost to the point where I wish I could just abandon the ride on the filly," Cindy sighed.

"Even with the Kentucky Derby?" Jack laughed, not believing her.

"Even with the Derby," Cindy confirmed, giving Jack a sidelong glance. "You must think I’m crazy."

"Cin," he grinned. "You know I think you’re crazy most of the time. Wanting to give up a Derby mount doesn’t surprise me."

Cindy slapped at his arm, laughing. "You do not think that."

"Think what you like," Jack shrugged.

Cindy only arched an eyebrow and sighed, letting the tension that had been coiling inside for the past two weeks unwind. There was no sense going into the Oaks tightly sprung, and Jack was always an easy person to talk to.

"I don’t understand Ashleigh," Cindy admitted, getting a quiet, blank look from Jack. "I don’t understand why I’ve got this Derby ride in the first place."

"The woman has three horses in the Derby this year," Jack reasoned. "She seems to look in house before she goes elsewhere. You know that."

"I’m not in house anymore," Cindy said with a frown, leaning against Hansea’s stall. "I haven’t been for a long time."

"Doesn’t matter if you’re not physically there," Jack told her. "You do know what ‘in house’ means, right?"

"Shut up," Cindy defended. "You know what I mean. I just don’t get why she wants me to help out at all if she’s going to go act the way she has."

"Which is?" Jack asked, reminding Cindy that he hardly knew the Whitebrook staff, let alone Ashleigh Griffen, further than reputation.

"Cold," Cindy said after a moment before delving on with: "Overly critical, overbearing, concerned, hesitant, uncomfortably silent at the worst of times, and so forth. Why the hell am I bothering?"

"Because you promised?" Jack suggested.

"Fat lot of good a promise is," Cindy frowned.

"It’s a little late to be bitching now, Cin," Jack said.

"I know," Cindy sighed, looking in on Hansea as the bay filly stared intently out at the aisle. "I can’t back out now."

~

The Kentucky Oaks was mild compared to the Derby, but it still held the same air of celebration. As part of the festival leading up to the Derby, the Kentucky Oaks got more than enough attention. The grandstand was swarming with over a hundred thousand people, the rail of the paddock was lined thick by the crowds, and the lead ponies were decked to the nines with flowers and ribbons. It could have been Derby Day to the untrained eye.

Cindy stood silently in the paddock, watching her mount tear at her groom’s arm with a furious need to have her way. Hansea eyed the crowds and swiveled her ears, laying them flat to her head as they passed through the crowded sections near the stalls. Owners were everywhere, littering the grassy lawn of the paddock and sometimes accidentally stepping in the way of an anxious horse. Hansea, of course, didn’t look anxious. She looked downright murderous.

"We saw this coming, at least," Lucas said to Cindy as the filly stalked by with her ears pinned and her eyes ringed with white.

"Hey, you’re not riding her," Cindy laughed, trying not to sound nervous, although she could feel it lying in the pit of her stomach.

There were twelve very accomplished fillies in this race. Cindy swallowed hard as they filed by out of order, their beautiful coats buffed to perfection and shining in the perfect afternoon. Morgantina, a dark bay monster of a filly, was the California horse to beat. War of Words and Fifteen Feet danced by, also from California with sparkling pedigrees and conditioned by millionaire trainers. South of Rome, the Florida horse, was a chestnut filly with Unbridled in the pedigree. Golden Bamboo came from Louisiana and Arkansas, Alauda had been running against Hansea all year, Magic Mountain was the Ashland Stakes winner and Strewn Glitter had raced against her. Ranomafama, a gorgeous bay with a strange name, was Florida’s homebred horse that still had a lot to prove. Then came Whitebrook’s double entry: Angelica Tree and Vinaceous, who had been battling it out in California and Florida while Hansea enjoyed relative peace at Aqueduct.

"Keep her within striking distance," Lucas was saying as Cindy watched the horses. "She’ll want to lay off the pace with Vinaceous and Magic Mountain. Angelica Tree is going to be the horse to watch coming into the stretch, but South of Rome is the filly to beat right now. She’s going to come on late. War of Words will set the pace and she’ll tire. All you have to do is lay in wait and watch out for the closers."

"Understood," Cindy said simply, sidestepping as Hansea wheeled into the stall for her final check. The leggy bay couldn’t stay still, and already she was lashing out at the air with her hooves.

"Whoa, missy," the groom mumbled into the filly’s ear. "Whoa, missy. Whoa."

Hansea cocked an ear his way and put all four feet on the ground, letting out a snort in the direction of her awed owners, a young entrepreneur and his wife. Cindy smiled a little at the couple’s aghast expression, knowing exactly what they were thinking. Horses were generally not how owners made their principle money. Hansea was their recreation, and without Lucas to guide them along with her they would be utterly lost.

"Whoa, missy," the groom murmured under his breath again when Lucas gave Cindy a leg up into the saddle. Hansea shifted her weight and craned her head around, flicking her ears distractedly. Cindy could feel her coiling, getting ready to burst. She hoped the filly would save it for the race.

"Good luck, Cin," Lucas told her. "You might need it."

Cindy saluted him with her crop before tucking it away. Lucas smiled and let them go to enter the line of fillies dancing and spooking past the crowds at the rail. As they walked out from the tunnel, right into the corridor of thundering fans, Hansea predictably spooked, skittering over the concrete with her head held high, jerking on her groom’s arm.

The filly was quickly shuffled past the onlookers and deposited with her outrider. Hansea immediately thrust her head over the pony’s neck and danced her hindquarters away, sidestepping her long legs over the track.

Cindy sat easily through the post parade, trying to keep the filly calm through the necessity of being showcased to the bettors. Ahead of her she could see her cousin, Josie Taylor, sitting pretty on Vinaceous. Anne Pierce, Whitebrook’s other jockey, was a few horses behind on Angelica Tree. Whitebrook’s chestnut fillies were walking along professionally, totally attuned to the track as they shut out the raucous crowd.

As soon as they past the starting gate, Cindy let Hansea start up into a slow gallop. The filly’s dark legs lifted softly and stretched out, showing off her beautiful breeding and ground eating talent. Cindy felt her own nerves dissolve as the filly began to warm up, letting a little of her anxiousness fade off in the preparation for the race.

"She works out smooth," commented the outrider, getting a sniff nod from Cindy.

"After she calms down a bit, yeah," Cindy managed, slowing the filly as they approached the starting gate.

War of Words was loaded first, followed by Morgantina with Jerry Bailey. Golden Bamboo had the third slot, Vinaceous the fourth, and Alauda the fifth.

Cindy glanced next to her as she waited, her eyes catching on Magic Mountain and Sarah McCormick. The dark gray filly was dancing underneath Sarah, who settled her down before looking up and smiling at Cindy.

"This will be a good race," Sarah called over to her.

"No kidding," Cindy chuckled, already seeing the outlines for a major jockey battle. So many horses were evenly matched and on top of their game in this race that it would take a perfect ride to get the winner.

"See you at the finish," Sarah grinned as Magic Mountain was loaded. Angelica Tree followed next, along with Strewn Glitter. Hansea was one of the last to load, which Cindy was thankful for as the filly became more unmanageable the longer she was confined in the gate.

The last horses loaded. There was a split second to wait while Morgantina stopped fussing. Then the gates slammed open.

Hansea broke sharply, lunging out of the gate instantly. Immediately Cindy was on her toes, urging the filly up with the rest of the fillies and toward the rail. Hansea jockeyed into position, getting bumped several times by Strewn Glitter as the other bay filly attempted to find her feet in the crush to find position. Hansea snorted at each bump and Cindy let her move forward a little, settling in front of Strewn Glitter in fourth outside of Vinaceous as they entered the clubhouse turn.

War of Words had indeed won the battle to the front, with Golden Bamboo sitting right off her flank. Cindy kept Hansea steady in fourth, glancing to her right when she saw a flash of gray bobbing next to her. Sure enough, Magic Mountain was settling in to run along side them. Cindy could almost see Sarah smiling through her filly’s whipping gray mane.

Cindy focused all her energy on Hansea as they raced down the backstretch, keeping the bay filly from grabbing the bit in her teeth too soon. Thankfully Hansea was following orders, not running off rank like she had done several times in her racing career.

War of Words was setting hot fractions on the lead as they plunged past the half-mile marker. Cindy noted grimly that the filly was already starting to relinquish her lead to Golden Bamboo, who was no where near ready to race in the front with Fifteen Feet right on her heels. The field thundered through the rest of the backstretch, Cindy sitting still on Hansea as War of Words dropped back along the rail.

On her right Cindy saw Sarah still waiting on Magic Mountain, and on her left Josie was already working on Vinaceous as they began to turn for home. Cindy took stock of her mount, checking Hansea for how much they had left. The filly was responsive as hell.

"See ya, Jo," Cindy called over to her cousin, who gave her a surprised look as they flew past the quarter mile pole.

Hansea had her head, and was switching leads at the top of the stretch. Fifteen Feet was no longer a problem as Cindy ducked Hansea in close to the rail, skimming along the white tubing as they surged past, taking aim at Golden Bamboo, who was faltering. Hansea was pushing to the front, Cindy shoving her hands along the filly’s sweat dampened neck on their way past the grandstand.

Only when they had cleared Golden Bamboo did Cindy hear the others coming on her outside. Magic Mountain was flying down the stretch, Angelica Tree hot in pursuit. Cindy pursed her lips together, feeling Hansea’s pitch black mane slap at her cheeks. She brought out the crop and rotated it, landing it sharply on the filly’s hindquarters.

Hansea stretched and ran, her ears tipped back in concentration. Magic Mountain and Angelica Tree were beginning to level out with Hansea, about to draw even. Cindy smacked the filly twice more before swinging the crop back up to flick it by the filly’s eye. Hansea ripped at the bit, coming back on strong just as Magic Mountain gained the lead.

Cindy pushed up the filly’s neck as Hansea rushed back to challenge, drawing even on the inside before shoving free of Magic Mountain and sticking her head in front just as the wire blew by. Standing in the stirrups, Cindy shoved a victorious fist in the air as Hansea slowed, her ears pricking at the camera flashes along the inside rail.

"Good job," Sarah called to her as Magic Mountain cooled off next to Hansea. "I didn’t think she had it in her to come back."

"Neither did I," Cindy grinned, slapping Hansea a few times on the neck in praise as the filly went into a jaunty trot, flaring her red nostrils as Magic Mountain continued to canter by. Cindy slowed the filly down to a walk as the outrider cantered up to collect her, Donna Brothers close behind for the post-race interview.

Cindy grinned at the retired jockey and answered her questions as they rode back to the winner’s circle, Hansea dancing and bumping playfully against the nearly white outrider’s pony even though anyone could tell she was too tired to put her full, riot-rousing heart behind it.

At the winner’s circle, the dark filly was led through the corridor of flashing cameras and into the cement section of the grandstand reserved for the press and the official winner. Lucas was laughing with the owners, who were engrossed in the attention. The only presence in the small area that truly paid attention to Hansea and Cindy was Jack, who put a hand on the filly’s damp head and asked how they were.

The wreath of pink and white striped stargazer lilies was draped over Cindy’s lap, scattering fragrant yellow pollen all over her white pants. On top of that, another huge bouquet was shoved into Cindy’s hands, which she let rest on top of the wreath. Hansea shifted uneasily under the strange decoration, but Jack held her firmly as the photographer got everyone into the frame for the photograph.

After several flashes, the crowd broke with smiles still on their faces and Cindy leapt off the filly’s back, turning to tug the saddle off along with all the flowers, and weigh in as Hansea was led back up the track to the barns. The bouquet of flowers were abandoned on the wall for the trophy presentation – a case of twelve sterling silver mint julep cups that Cindy had to help hold for the picture. As soon as everyone had cleared out, Cindy turned quickly to retreat to the jockey’s room, only to run into Jack and the flowers she had easily discarded.

"You’re not going to let me get away without them, huh?" Cindy laughed, taking the gaudy pink and white lilies from him.

"Not into pink and white, huh?" Jack asked as Cindy wrinkled her nose at the flowers.

"No, not the flowers. Just look at me," Cindy exclaimed, brushing off all the yellow pollen on her pants and silks, which clung to her fingers and flowed like gold dust to the ground.

[syrinx]

II. Sidelonging

Every night was a party, and by now Cindy was a little relieved that she was nearing the end of presenting herself each evening. She had been to the Kentucky Derby Museum Gala opening day, the Festival di Cavalli and the Moonlight and Magnolia Derby Gala over the past week, and now she stood in the Medallion Ballroom of her hotel, the Seelbach Hilton, for the Derby Eve Gala.
This evening Cindy had been getting more attention that she personally thought she deserved with Hansea’s win in the Kentucky Oaks. There were more autographs to sign than usual, which was rather rare for Cindy in the first place, and more attention put on her for the Kentucky Derby. There was some sort of ridiculous idea that the winning Oaks jockey might be able to stretch a lucky streak into the Derby. Cindy had been rather dismissive of all the questions that asked her how she thought Honor and Glory faired against the boys in the greatest race in the world. The filly would race, yes, but Cindy couldn’t see into the future.
Cindy sat at her deserted table, calmly sipping a drink and watching people dance. For the past few minutes she had been left alone, and she was grateful for that.
“What are you doing all by yourself?” Cindy heard her cousin ask, accompanied by the scrape of a chair over wood and a rustle of silk.
“Just taking a break, Jo,” Cindy said, turning around and looking at her cousin, all clad in burgundy silk with her dark blond hair swept up off her neck.
“There’s no such thing as taking a break,” Josie laughed. “This is Derby Eve,” Josie reminded her, “It’s almost as good as Christmas.”
“That’s the overstatement of the century,” Cindy chuckled, rolling her eyes.
“Come on,” Josie urged. “I just met this wonderful guy, but since I’m engaged and all I decided you can have him.”
Cindy glanced at the recently bestowed ring on Josie’s finger and winced, shaking her head. “I don’t think so, Jo.”
“Come on,” Josie persisted. “He’s really great. British and everything.”
“British?” Cindy rose and eyebrow.
“Tall and blond,” Josie reacted quickly. “Just your type.”
“I don’t think you know what my type is,” Cindy countered, getting a slow dazzling smile from Josie in response.
“Oh, shut up,” Cindy sighed, standing. “Point me in the right direction.”
“I’ll do the introductions,” Josie laughed, her bright eyes glinting mischievously as she jumped up and grabbed Cindy’s wrist, hauling her across the ballroom.
It wasn’t easy pushing through the sea of people and winding through the tabletops. It seemed that once you started to move you were spotted, and therefore were obligated to stop and talk with every group of people that recognized you. Cindy and Josie were tugged into two conversations before they hit Ashleigh, Mike, Anne, and Jason, who weren’t deeply entrenched enough in their conversation with a few other trainers to not notice Josie and Cindy plowing by.
“Josie,” Anne called, and, after seeing whom she was pulling behind her: “Cindy!”
Josie paused in her mad dash to deposit Cindy with whom she was calling “the amazingly gorgeous Brit,” and before both women knew what had happened they were engulfed by the group and thrown both feet first into their conversation.
“Nice showing in the Oaks,” Cindy was being told. “That was some race.”
“The filly did most of it,” Cindy replied politely. “I was just along for the ride.”
“Some filly,” another of the trainers laughed over his drink.
“Quite,” Ashleigh added, focusing her hazel gaze on Cindy with something of a scrutinizing air. “The ride was rougher than I would like, but it got results.”
Cindy blinked, turning her head swiftly to take in all of Ashleigh. There was no way she was about to ask her former mentor what she meant in front of a group of people that very clearly understood her meaning. Instead of acting as offended as she felt, Cindy breathed and smiled softly at Ashleigh.
“The filly came back fit and sound,” Cindy responded as she tried to mask her rising anger at Ashleigh’s blank stare. “That’s what matters.”
Ashleigh didn’t respond so Cindy excused herself, walking briskly away from the group with Josie hot on her heels.
“Cin, where are you going?” Josie asked, catching up with her as they reached the large foyer.
“I think I’m not up for meeting ‘the amazingly gorgeous Brit’ right now, Jo,” Cindy told her cousin. “In fact, I’m pretty tired.”
“Cin, she didn’t mean anything by it,” Josie tried to reason with her.
“Jo, according to everyone around her she never really means anything by it,” Cindy replied, clearly not accepting the excuse people used to mask Ashleigh’s discomfort with her. “I’m just not going to buy that anymore.”
“Cindy, please stay,” Josie sighed. “I can’t say anything more about you and Ashleigh. This is something that I’m clearly not a part of.”
“I need to go,” Cindy shook her head. “I’m not one for these galas anyway.”
“Oh, come on,” Josie laughed, but Cindy shook her head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jo,” Cindy remained steadfast, turning quickly and walking through the crowded foyer, stopping by the elevators and punching the up button. It took a few moments for the elevator to descend down to her floor. Cindy crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at her black shoes as she waited. When she heard the ping and the scuffling sound of the elevator doors opening, Cindy walked forward without looking up, running into a body she hadn’t expected.
“Cin!”
Blinking, Cindy stumbled back a few steps and found Laura Parker, her roommate in New York as well as during the Derby, and Ryan Lockridge, Laura’s long-term ex-boyfriend and trainer on the West Coast.
“Laura?” Cindy asked, looking back and forth at the two of them. “Where have you been?”
“Upstairs,” Laura said after a beat, getting a slow raise of one eyebrow from Cindy in response. “Where are you going?”
“Upstairs,” Cindy answered. She couldn’t resist saying the next part: “Seems like we missed each other just in time.”
“Thanks, Cin,” Ryan smiled at her, knowing full well her meaning.
“It’s a lighthearted night,” Cindy let herself grin. “Glad to see you two are enjoying it.”
“Okay, you’re going to get it when I come back upstairs,” Laura pointed at her. Cindy only smiled and waved them away, walking into the empty elevator and hitting the right button. She leaned against the elevator wall and watched the numbers light up above the door as the box moved up. As soon as the doors opened at her floor, Cindy walked quickly down the hallway, pulling the keycard out of her small purse that hung over her shoulder.
As soon as she slid the plastic card into the lock, she heard another door open and sighed.
“Don’t say anything, please,” Cindy said, already anticipating what he was going to say.
“So what are my options, then?” Jack asked, closing the door behind him and looking at her. Cindy knew that at some point she wasn’t going to like Jack’s room being right next to hers. He had this uncanny ability to run into her when she didn’t want to be found.
“Nothing,” Cindy stated, widening her eyes at him for emphasis before she opened her door and walked inside. Jack ambled in after her, getting one of Cindy’s infuriated silent glares that she threw at him over her shoulder on her way into the main room. He only smiled.
The hotel room was a ridiculously extravagant, two-bedroom suite. In the living area was a sofa and a set of armchairs positioned around an oval coffee table. Large, ivory draped windows let in the light of Louisville into the dark room.
Cindy turned on one of the lamps and kicked off her shoes, ignoring Jack as he walked to the end of the hallway and leaned against the wall, watching her pull the pins out of her hair. Tilting her head just slightly, Cindy could see him out of the corner of her eye and she bit her lip to keep from blushing at what this scene looked like.
“So what’s your business, Jack?” Cindy asked, shaking off the shivers that had been spiking up her spine seconds ago. “Don’t you want to be downstairs?”
“I’m done with business for the night, Cin,” Jack told her, getting a raised eyebrow from Cindy.
“Come on,” she laughed, walking into her room to change. “It’s somewhat fun down there,” she called louder as she unzipped the black dress and let it pool around her feet.
“It’s all business,” she heard him call back, and she smirked at that as she changed into sweat pants and a camisole.
Leaving the dress in a heap on the floor, Cindy walked back out into the living area, padding over the thick carpet with bare feet. She found Jack casually lying on the sofa with the television tuned to ESPN. His sports coat was discarded over the arm of the sofa, his dress shoes lying haphazardly near the coffee table. He laid there like he was setting up to be there for a while -- dark brown hair already tousled out of whatever order it had been just two minutes ago, white shirt sleeves rolled up, legs crossed at the ankle.
Cindy put her hands on her hips and frowned.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm that he picked up and responded to like he always did.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he tossed back, getting one of those muffled groans that Cindy specialized in.
“Sarah’s going to start wondering where the hell you go,” Cindy told him, walking to the armchair and falling onto it. Normally she would have jumped onto the sofa and shoved his legs out of the way, but that had been a while ago and much had changed since then.
“Angel,” Jack laughed, using his newer nickname for her that he found quite ironically appropriate, which killed Cindy. “Sarah doesn’t care, and you know that much.”
Cindy rolled her eyes, tucking her legs under her and crossing her arms over her chest as she observed him. Sarah and Jack hadn’t lasted as long as most would have predicted. Things had come to a raw stop for them in March, and Cindy still wasn’t very sure where they all stood barely two months later.
Eight months ago, Cindy barely saw Jack let alone spoke to him. When they did find themselves in each other’s presence, things were noticeably different. Things had been awkward and quiet with an underlying current of…something. Cindy didn’t put her finger on it and mostly because she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it was there in the first place.
Seven and six months ago things were barely different, but a little more relaxed. They smiled, they talked more, they did nothing outside of work. Cindy became used to this change and gradual slipping into different terms with Jack.
Five and four months ago they were starting to forget on the surface, letting time finally chip away at the memories. Three months ago they began to work with Halcyon, Savage Girl’s two-year-old colt, all hands on and working like they had years ago. Two months and things were starting to slip further away. More time was spent with Halcyon at Owl Hollow, less at Aqueduct as Hansea trained. They had fallen back into seemingly old routine, although there was always a hint of...something. Neither could place the difference, but they both knew its source.
Then came the mutual end of Jack and Sarah’s relationship. Mid-March, just when the air was showing hints of warmth. Cindy refused to acknowledge it was her that caused it this time. Even though she wondered if everyone else thought she was kidding herself.
“So why are you up here?” Cindy asked, always asking the blunt questions.
He laughed. “Same reasons you are, okay?”
“I’m not trying to avoid Sarah,” Cindy replied with a smile.
“No, but I can think of another certain individual,” he shot back at her, making Cindy roll her eyes.
“Fine,” Cindy shrugged. “I guess that makes us two cowards, huh?”
There was a moment of silence then, the television still channeling the exuberant voices of Sportscenter anchors about things Cindy rarely paid attention to. She watched Jack as he frowned and worked a hand through his dark hair before turning his blue eyes onto her.
“Yeah, Cin,” he nodded slightly, turning back to the television. “I suppose it does.”
They didn’t say another word then, sitting together silently in the television’s flickering blue glow.

[syrinx]

III. The Tests of Time

Hooves raining over the hard outer track of dirt. Hundreds of thousands of screaming voices at all notes and ranges. A crack of lightning and thunder rolling in answer. It hadn’t stormed over the Derby in years.
The track was listed as good, still hours from becoming sloppy as it had been sealed before the first race on the card. Cindy could have disagreed after running through it with Sunday Punch and Silvan. Silvan had run on grass, but Sunday Punch had been on the dirt and came back to the Grandstand with his splattered silver coat a dull brown, Cindy’s silks barely recognizable with the slop that had kicked up on them en route to the winner’s circle.
She had won twice today. It had been a good day for grays. Now, with the crowd standing damply under ponchos and umbrellas by the saddling paddock, Cindy eyed her last gray in her last race – Honor and Glory in the Derby.
The filly’s dappled coat was dull in the weather, the rain painting dark stripes along her sides. She wore Whitebrook’s blue and white blinkers, the plastic cups already starting to collect the rain and drip as the filly moved her head. Her two entry mates, the honey bright Heliacal and the coal dark War Hero, danced behind her, their odds soaringly better than hers. This was expected, as she was a filly and had never run successfully on an off track.
Cindy frowned a little as the filly danced by, tossing her dark mane over her neck like a girl beckoning the boys by fluffing her hair. She looked painfully feminine in a field of sixteen colts, all strapping young things with ripping muscles and arched necks.
“Okay,” Ashleigh said, ducking into the number eleven stall where Cindy and Ian were watching the filly. Cindy looked over at the other woman, who was clad in a dark gray dress suit and had done her hair up into some stylish ponytail. “Josie and Anne are ready to go,” Ashleigh reported, looking at Cindy pointedly. “How about you?”
“I’m good,” Cindy said simply, shugging.
“You remember the plan for her?” Ashleigh asked nevertheless.
“I’m crystal clear, Ash,” Cindy said, her eyes scanning over the seventeen horses in the field, falling on the horse that was receiving some late action – Pleasant Picture.
“You sure?” Ashleigh asked, putting her hands on her hips. “You know she’ll stalk the leaders, but with that post position you’ll have to settle on the outside. There might be a crush up front, so…”
“I’m not going for the rail,” Cindy jumped in, pulling her eyes from the bay Pleasant Picture. “She’ll settle on the outside, I’ll ride out the race clear, and if she can go the distance she’ll go the distance. Okay?”
“Don’t get smart with me, Cindy,” Ashleigh said softly, frowning. “I’m just going over the race with you, just like I did with Jo and Anne. You’re no different.”
“Fine,” Cindy nodded, stepping out of the way as the filly entered the stall before the official call for riders up.
“Also, try to keep the crop to a minimum,” Ashleigh said over the filly’s back as Ian checked on the equipment a second time. “She’s not used to hard riding. A few chirps and encouragement with your hands will do it.”
“I understand,” Cindy said through gritted teeth as the call was announced. She moved around to the filly’s left side and got a leg up from her father, trying to shove away Ashleigh’s worried, thinly veiled directions.
“Ride safe, Cin,” her father told her, taking the filly’s shoulder as they moved out.
“Thanks, dad,” Cindy smiled fleetingly before they entered the line up and paraded out of the saddling paddock.
The filly followed with her groom until they reached the tunnel under the stands, where the rumbling of the crowd reverberated through the concrete foundation. The filly pricked her ears at this, unaccustomed to such a noise, but moved to the drizzling gloom that hung over the track.
Cindy blinked as the whoosh of cold rain started to become heavier, splattering on her silks and sinking deeply into the filly’s dark coat. They were handed off to the outrider assigned to them, everyone miserable in the wet but moving through the paces as tradition dictated. The outrider ponies still had flowers in their manes, the cupola beyond the turf track was ready for the celebration after the race, the women in the grandstand were still decked to the nines under their umbrellas, and the infield seemed to be completely unfazed by the weather. Cindy didn’t expect anything less.
Breaking out of the post parade, they warmed up in the far turn. The filly rolled into a ground eating canter, her darkly tipped ears pricked back to listen as Cindy guided her up the rail and back down, smiling at her cousin and her friends as the rode by. The filly tossed her multi-toned gray mane and snorted a little, rainwater shaking off her muzzle and flinging out of her mane.
Cindy tugged her down to a halt behind the starting gate and sat silently as the field began to load. Beyond the gate, a wet and eager crowd of over a hundred thousand waited for them. The twin spires were rising up against the darker grays of an upcoming storm cloud. Cindy thought for a moment what would happen if lightning should strike that starting gate with seventeen of the nation’s best Thoroughbreds standing inside. When it was her turn to load she shook the thought away, looking down to her mount as the filly was led forward and into the metal chute.
“Honor and Glory,” Cindy murmured to herself as she pulled down her sets of goggles over her eyes and wrapped her fingers into the filly’s mane. “Let’s see what your parents gave you.”
The last horse loaded, and the gates sprung open as the rain began to pour. The filly lunged, using her hindquarters to propel her out of the gate as she dug in quickly with her fore hooves.
They were only a stride from the gate when Cindy saw it coming. Rasoso, a longshot colt, careened left and straight into the filly, bumping her hard before falling back rapidly to chase the field. The filly slid to the left and lost momentum on the increasingly slippery surface. The field was racing away from them, so Cindy put the filly to work.
Within seconds they were settled fourth from last on the rail, flying by the grandstand with a wall of horses and mud in front of them. Cindy left the filly to settle, tucked against the rail with the sparse scattering of closers as horses eager to find the pace crushed each other in the front.
They wound into the backstretch and rode out the race clear. The filly keeping her ears pricked back, listening to Cindy and depending on her to get them home. Cindy stripped off a set of goggles as the mud flew up from horses’ hooves and connected with the filly’s chest and neck, raining on Cindy’s blue and white silks. The rain was coming down harder, and the filly was starting to get anxious as they began to round into the far turn.
Cindy heard the closers just as she began to hear the screams from the infield and the grandstand through the pummeling of the horses on the dirt and the pouring rain. She glanced behind her and saw Josie putting War Hero into action, the burly black son of Wonder’s Warrior turning on his speed.
As War Hero flew past, Cindy put her filly into motion. She pulled down another pair of goggles, shoved her hands into the filly’s mane, and asked for more. The filly dug into the slippery dirt and went wide, following in War Hero’s wake as they made a sweeping arc around the field that was dropping back, too exhausted to make a real run at the wire.
The filly was galloping swiftly, moving in the wake of her running mate as they blew into the homestretch. They were now, from what Cindy could tell, running fifth and six together. They had passed Anne and Heliacal somewhere in the pack, the gray and the black running suddenly side by side up to the leaders.
Two more horses were passed, unable to find the strength to go the distance. War Hero had the edge, racing a half-length in front of them as they blew past another marker. Cindy pushed into the filly’s mane and rotated her crop into her left hand, swinging it next to the filly’s eye. There was a sudden surge then as War Hero plunged to the left and passed a tiring rival on the inside, skimming along the rail. The filly went to the outside, following right behind.
Cindy swung the crop behind her and tapped the filly sharply several times as War Hero began to lengthen his lead on them, galloping up to the leader who was tiring so quickly but didn’t want to give up. The filly pushed again, less vigorous than before. They slid slightly on the ground, fought to find their footing, and tried to make up time as the leader and War Hero passed under the wire together, the filly rolling in a length and a half behind in third.
Exhausted, Cindy found it almost difficult to stand in the stirrups, tugging back on the reins as the filly stumbled to a halt in the first turn, the rest of the field hauling itself in through the mud and the pouring rain. She caught sight of the winner, a dark bay colt named Dynomont whom had been overlooked the entire time, headed back to the winner’s circle. Cindy watched him as he trotted toward the turf track, then pulled her last set of goggles off and wheeled her filly back to the grandstand.

~ ~ ~

She could have been out celebrating, as she had won two races that day. She was proud of those accomplishments, because it was, at current, more than anyone else could boast about. However, she wasn’t celebrating. She wasn’t out drinking and laughing and dancing, and after this she felt that she wouldn’t be anytime soon.
Instead of celebrating her victories, she sat in the office of the all too quiet stakes barn Whitebrook was using temporarily for the Derby and looked at Ashleigh Griffen. If she had been younger she would have felt nauseous. Instead she just felt oddly petulant and eager to get this over with.
“I’d like to know what you were thinking,” Ashleigh said simply.
“I was thinking about winning, Ashleigh,” Cindy replied with a sigh. “I gave that filly a winning ride.”
“She immediately lost ground when you hit her,” Ashleigh shook her head. “I told you specifically not to ride her hard, but you did and you call it a ‘winning ride.’ I’m really at a loss for words.”
“I hit her a grand total of five times,” Cindy said, restraining herself from just standing up and walking away. This was her former mentor, and she would act professional although everything in her body told her to leave before things degenerated into a fight. “She came back to the barn with no cuts or welts from my crop. She’s fine. What happened was she was beginning to slip on that damned track.”
“You went totally off of what I told you,” Ashleigh frowned. “We don’t hit that filly. How many times you touched her with the crop is irrelevant.”
“We were losing the race,” Cindy ground out the words. “I can’t just sit on the back of a horse and not try to do everything in my power to get it into a better position. That’s grounds for a steward’s inquiry, and you know it.”
“Not if I told them the reasoning behind the strategy,” Ashleigh said. “You deliberately ignored me, as you have been deliberately ignoring me all week. When exactly are you going to listen?”
“Is this what your problem is?” Cindy laughed with disbelief. “I’m not listening? I listened just fine to Lucas and won two races today. Don’t sit there and accuse me of not listening.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t listening to Lucas. You’re not listening to me,” Ashleigh pointed out, her voice rising as Cindy stared at her with a perturbed glare. “You never have listened to me, Cindy.”
“I listened just fine,” Cindy said, her voice rising in turn. “I exercised that filly to the letter of your directions. I raced that filly under unforeseen circumstances and placed. I do not see the problem here, Ashleigh. Why in the hell did you hire me to ride her and stick with me this whole week if you thought I wasn’t listening?”
“It was a favor to you,” Ashleigh responded, her voice loud.
“Don’t give me that,” Cindy rolled her eyes. “I can understand a convenience factor, or that you might just have some faith in my ability to ride a horse over that. I’m not a charity case. I don’t need Derby mounts. What favors do I need from you?”
“Fine,” Ashleigh said, raising her hands. “You don’t need the charity. You were here and you’ve done well for Lucas, so I though you’d like the ride. I thought you’d do well on Glow, if you’d like to know the truth. But you’ve shown the opposite of my hopes again.”
Cindy stared at Ashleigh for a moment, silence crashing down onto the room. Ashleigh had used similar words with her before, in a different place and time.
I gave her to you hoping you’d do something great with her, but you’ve done the opposite of that.
“I see,” Cindy said, her voice softer now, feeling small and vulnerable again like she had so long ago.
“I don’t want to bring any of what’s passed back to the forefront,” Ashleigh shook her head. “I don’t want to deal with that right now.”
“I can’t apologize to you anymore, Ashleigh,” Cindy said, setting her mouth in a firm line. “I’m very past that.”
“I know,” Ashleigh responded, sounding tired.
I am so disappointed.
Cindy let a small breath puff from her lips as she exhaled, then looked away to the door. She could feel the nausea start to rise from her stomach. She had to get out.
“Thank you for letting me ride her,” Cindy said, not recognizing her own voice or whom she was talking about. Ashleigh only looked at her silently, the urge to continue the conversation suddenly struck down and gone from her. Cindy rose from the chair and turned around, headed for the door.
I can not forgive this.
“I hope you do well in the future, Cindy,” Ashleigh said just as Cindy’s hand touched the doorknob. She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaled, and nodded. Then she left without looking back.

[horselover]

That was wonderful!