Golden Filly Collection One Read Free

on the walls set off the blossomcovered fuchsias hanging from the beams. Below the baskets, tubs of ruby begonias raced for first place in the blooming contest.
    Tricia paused to look for the hummingbirds that dined every day on the drooping pink, purple, and white blossoms.
    “Hustle, Tee,” Marge called. “You’re late again.”
    “Dad.” Tricia clutched her father’s arm. “You’ll go to the doctor today?”
    “Umm-m-m. See…there’s a hummingbird. On the other side of the pink basket.”
    “Don’t play games with me.” Tension tightened Tricia’s jaw. “If you don’t tell Mom, I will.”
    “Now, Trish.”
    “I will.”
    “Okay. Okay.” He raised his hands in surrender.
    “What are you two so serious about?” Marge met them at the sliding glass door. “In case you haven’t noticed, my girl, you’re late.”
    Trish glanced at her mother, then stared into her father’s eyes. Silence.
    Why doesn’t he tell her? Tricia thought. I’m not going to back down, not this time. I know there’s something really wrong. Unbidden, a prayer surfaced in her mind. Make him well, God. He’s the best father a girl could ever have.
    Hal took a breath, like he was preparing for a deep dive. He patted Trish on the shoulder, then put his arm around Marge and walked into the family room with her.
    Trish slid onto the stool by the door.
    “It’s about this cough I’ve had.” He drew out a chair. “Sit down, honey.”
    “That bad?” Marge laughed up at him as she sat.
    “Ummm-mm, I think so. Ah-h.” He rubbed her shoulders. “This morning I coughed up a bit of blood. The pain was so bad I nearly fainted.”
    “But, Hal, you’ve always said—”
    “I know what I’ve been saying. But there has been pain. Not much but…” He walked to the window and stood looking out. “I think it’s getting worse.”
    “Why haven’t you—?”
    “I don’t know.” He ran work-worn fingers through his hair. “I was so sure it would go away. I quit smoking. Thought that would do it.”
    “But it hasn’t.”
    “No.”
    Trish felt each word beat against her. His flat “no” rattled in the room.
    After a long moment, Marge asked, “What exactly happened down at the barn?”
    Hal told her the entire story and ended with, “And there was just enough blood on my handkerchief to scare the living daylights out of me.”
    “And me,” Trish whispered from her perch by the door.
    Marge slumped in her chair, one arm over the back.
    In the corner, the fish tank bubbled on, as though nothing unusual had happened. As if Trish’s world hadn’t just had a major hole punched in it. She could hear David singing in the shower. Off key. As usual.
    “Guess I’ll go wash,” she said.
    “Yes,” her mother acknowledged, not taking her eyes off her husband’s back. “I’ll call the doctor as soon as the office is open. We’ll go right in.”
    “Don’t I need an appointment?”
    “I’m sure they’ll want to see you right away—” Her mother’s voice was cut off by Trish’s rap on the bathroom door.
    “You about done in there?” she raised her voice to be heard above the warbler.
    “In a minute,” David interrupted his favorite song to answer.
    That means more like five , Trish thought as she leaned her head against the door. “Time for me to eat first?”
    “Yeah. Probably.”
    “Well, take your time. I’m late already.” The sarcasm in her voice finally penetrated to the songbird in the shower.
    “Hey, what’s with you?” David shut off the faucets. “You always eat first. Why should this morning be any different?”
    “David.” Trish heard the shower door slam. She knew she should head for the kitchen but couldn’t force herself to listen to her parents again. Instead she tapped the door again. “David, Dad coughed up blood this morning.”
    “He what!” Her brother jerked the door open.
    “There was blood on his handkerchief and the side of his mouth after a coughing attack. His face was all