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“Hey, Don. What can I do for you?”
“The vet came by today for Valentine’s checkup.” I was in a work meeting and had asked Don to handle the appointment for me.
“What did he say?” If Don is calling me about this, it can’t be good.
“He’s worried Valentine might be putting too much stress on his flexor tendon injury with all this heavy training we’ve been doing.”
My stomach clenches. “Did he say he shouldn’t race tomorrow?”
“He wasn’t necessarily saying that, but it’s something we need to watch out for. We just need to be cautious and ease up on the training some.”
“The last thing I want is for Valentine to get hurt.” As much as I don’t want to, I might have to pull him from racing.
“I say we let him race this one, but if it doesn’t go well, it may have to be his last.”
“That’s not the news I was hoping to hear tonight.” Normally, I’d be freaking out that Langston might win the race, but at this point, does it even matter?
Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I’m falling deeper into depression these days, and the longer I go without Langston by my side, the worse it gets.
“What do you want to do? I recommend we try this one more race and see how it goes. If he performs fine, then we’ll keep monitoring him, but I don’t think he has much more in him. You may need to focus on another horse.”
“Let’s do it. If it’s his last, then so be it. We can at least give it a good shot. Are you still over there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m going to head over to see how he’s doing. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I send the email I was composing and grab a diet drink from my office mini fridge before heading out the door.
When I get to my parents’ stables, Don goes into a bit more detail about how Valentine is doing, and we discuss options for other horses I can race next. Often racehorses don’t get very many years racing, not more than three in many cases. It’s so easy for them to get injured.
After we’re finished talking, I head over to say hi to my mom. My dad is traveling at the moment, so she could probably use a little company. I let myself in through the back door.
“Hey, Mom, it’s me,” I call out.
“We’re in here,” she yells from the craft room. I head in there to find her surrounded by yarn and Laurie sitting across from her, both knitting up a storm.
“Oh, hi, Laurie.”
“What brings you over here, sweetheart?” Laurie asks.
“I was just meeting with the trainer. The vet is concerned about Valentine’s injury flaring up again after all the training I’ve been putting him through.”
Laurie shakes her head. “These horses are always getting injured. Are you going to retire him then?”
“I may have to.”
“What are you guys making?”
“I’m making a baby blanket for Weston and Callie’s new little one,” Laurie says.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, and my throat thickens to think of the sweet innocent baby being wrapped in it.
“I can’t wait to hold their baby.” If I can’t have my own, I’m at least going to snuggle all the babies I can get my hands on.
“Oh, honey, I heard that you’re struggling.”
“I’m not surprised. I heard the entire knitting club has been talking about my struggles. I wish you’d been a bit more discreet, Mom. Now I feel humiliated in front of the entire town.”