“Damage is done. I’ll have to go wash up,” Mary said, visibly annoyed. “And I have so much work to do.” And with that Maizie broke into heavy sobs.
Surprised, Mary looked up. “Maizie, it’s all right. Look here, my foot is only slightly red. Now go on and get to work while I clean up this floor.” Grabbing a rag from her bottom desk drawer, Mary got busy.
Maizie sat at her desk trying to contain sobs that seemed to bubble abruptly from her throat. As her sobs quieted, hiccups took over.
“My goodness, Maizie. Relax.” Mary stood and walked to the window. “Come here. Look, Jeb is taking one of the foals for a walk.” Mary waited but Maizie did not join her. Turning to face her, Mary could see the weight of her coffee-cup accident all over the young girl’s face. She’d never seen the child look so unhappy.
Mary moved quickly back to where Maizie stood. “My, you look miserable,” Mary said. She placed her hand on Maizie’s hand and patted it. “Don’t worry. Nothing bad will come of this accident. I am fine. It just took me by surprise.”
Maizie nodded as she wiped off tears. “I know. I’m just tired.”
“You didn’t sleep? No worries, I hope.”
Maizie lowered her head. “No worries, just a bad dream.”
“I remember those.” Maizie looked up and raised her shoulders, waiting for what Mary had to say.
“Everyone has them once in a while,” Mary continued. “But dreams can seem so real at times.” Mary’s face went from a look of concern to visible grief. She walked slowly to her desk. “I used to dream all the time that I had lost my baby. I looked everywhere in my dream. I was frantic and would wake up calling for the child. Then I’d cry myself to sleep.” Maizie stood straighter, now appearing anxious to hear more.
“Did you lose your baby?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Mary now regretted mentioning her baby to Maizie. She was too young to understand a mother’s sense of loss. She remained quiet, her eyes gazing unseeingly across the room. Finally she looked at Maizie as if awakened and said, “But that was a long time ago.” Seeming to swallow her grief, she continued: “Tell me about your dream.”
Maizie hesitated and looked to her desktop and straightened a few papers resting in front of her. Raising her head, she turned back to Mary and said, “My dream is nothing really. It confuses me is all. I wake up and then can’t get back to sleep.”
“What’s it about?”
“My mama and me, when we lived in a little house. We would sleep together on a little bed.”
“What’s confusing about that?”
“A man comes in. My mama tells me to run to the other room. She says she’ll come get me in just a few minutes. I can hear noises from the room. Noises I don’t understand. When my mama comes and gets me, the man is mad. He yells at my mother and hits her. She grabs me and we run. I’m so scared. We run until our legs give out. And then the dream ends.”
“Maizie, sometimes dreams are just folly, made-up nonsense. But sometimes dreams are old memories that we are trying to forget or understand.”
“This is a memory. I know it.”
“How old are you in the dream?”
“Seems like I’m little, maybe four or five?”
Mary reached to rub Maizie’s shoulder but thought better of it. Putting her hand in her dress pocket, she cleared her throat and continued: “You have nothing to fear here at Glidewell. If you are ever scared or you don’t understand something, please come to us.”
Maizie did not respond.
“A girl your age should be having good dreams.”
Maizie simply nodded and went back to her work. Mary wondered if there were any words to ease Maizie’s pain. She could find none and simply said, “Will you come to me, when you are scared?”
Maizie looked at Mary and smiled. There was a feeling of warmth in the moment. Mary felt a profound sense of love for the girl. Her gratitude for the gesture of a smile was overwhelming; Mary began to cry.
“Mrs. Glidewell, why are you crying? Your foot still hurt?” Maizie asked, concern evident on her face.
“No mind,” Mary said and then pointed to her foot. “My foot is fine. See? Excuse me, I need to clean up a bit.” Mary reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping away tears as she left the room.
Chapter 37
An Afternoon Romp
Martin Garner jumped from his red truck and made his way to the manager’s office at Churchill Downs. “Good morning, Tilly. You got time for a little romp?”
Tilly looked up from her work. She liked being called Tilly around the backside. Gave her more character she thought. Her dad didn’t like it. Said it was unprofessional-sounding. He liked the name Matilda. He was so old-fashioned. She sighed heavily and smiled at Martin. “Where you want to go?”
“How about Dad’s barn here at the track? Nobody there. They are all watching the claim races this afternoon. We got quite a few runnin’.”
“Tack room?” asked Tilly sounding disappointed.
“You like it?”
“Not particularly. You talk with your daddy about buying our farm?”
“Not yet. Not sure how to approach it.” He moved around the counter toward her desk. “You sure look good today, Tilly. Come on. We don’t have much time.”
“You gonna ask your Daddy?” she repeated as she dropped her pen in the desk drawer and slid it shut.
Martin sighed heavily and said, “I promise, I will. Come on.”
Tilly opened a compact on her desk and caught a glimpse of her hair. Quickly she captured a few stray hairs and pushed them behind her ears. “That’s what you said last time, Martin, and the time before.”
“Come on, baby. I got a flask.” Tilly looked up and smiled.
“I’d rather go for a ride in your truck. But this is the last time
