THE SURPRISE

*October 2008*

The petulant electronic buzz of an alarm clock cut through thepre-dawn darkness, startling Vincent from a sound sleep. Beside him,Catherine groaned and rolled over, slapping the snooze button tosilence the alarm before sinking back into her pillow. Vincent waiteda moment before nudging her shoulder.

"Catherine?"

"Mmm?"

"Your alarm went off."

"Uh-huh," she mumbled sleepily. He felt her slip back towardslumber; simultaneously, faint sounds from the room directly abovereached him, combined with a swiftly stifled surge of anticipationfrom their eleven year old daughter.

"Catherine?" he tried again. "Victoria's up. Do you have somethingplanned?"

"Ohhh!" With another groan, she rolled away from him to sit on theedge of the bed, running both hands over her face, pushing back herhair.

Vincent took Catherine's pillow and stuffed it under his head tobetter observe this interesting turn of events. The unexpected earlymorning activity provoked his curiosity.

He had never known Catherine to meet morning gladly; besides, thiswas Saturday. He couldn't imagine anything that could persuade her toget up at four-thirty in the morning on her day off.

After a moment she rose and went into the bathroom. She emergedappearing more awake. Going to her closet, she fumbled for jeans anda sweater. Once dressed, she moved to the dressing table and brushedout her hair before deftly pulling the length of it back into aponytail.

"Where are you going so early?" Vincent finally inquired.

Turning toward him, she stifled a yawn. "I can't tell you," shewhispered, leaning over the bed to give him a kiss. "It's asurprise."

"For whom?"

She moved away from him, back toward her closet. "For you," sheanswered, pulling out a jacket. "Be at the north Park entrance byfive-thirty, please."

With an airy wave, she opened the door leading into the hallway,where Vincent heard her exchange whispered greetings with Vicky.

"Don't worry, we have plenty of time," he heard Catherine murmur.A moment later he heard the soft thump of the front door closingfollowed by the quiet rumble of a starting engine.

* * * *In the car, Vicky bounced with barely containedenthusiasm."Put your boots on," Catherine said. "I can't believe youdidn't wear shoes."

"If Daddy saw me in boots, he'd know where we were going," Vickyanswered pragmatically. "And I couldn't find my sneakers in thedark."

"That's why Edison invented the light bulb," Catherineremarked.

"I know," Vicky answered sheepishly. "But the moon was shining inand I just hated to disturb the early morning with electriclights."

"I know. I got dressed in the dark, too," Catherine admitted,turning onto Central Park West.

Traffic was light this early on a Saturday morning, so it was onlya few minutes before they reached their destination. Vicky was out ofthe car almost before it stopped.

"Good morning, Mateo!" she greeted, waving exuberantly to adark-eyed young man who leaned casually against a horse trailer."Goodmorning to you," he answered genially, teeth flashing white againsthis olive skin. "Miss Cathy," he added, nodding to Catherine.

"Good morning, Mateo," she answered, turning sideways in the car'sfront seat and putting her feet on the ground. Shedding the runningshoes she'd slipped into at home, she reached into the back andpulled out a pair of black, knee-high leather boots. Folding herjeans smoothly against her lower leg, she slid her foot into a boot,stamping her heel down into it. Repeating the process with the otherboot, she stood, testing their comfort.

Vicky and Mateo were already opening the doors of the trailer andunloading the first horse, a smallish bay gelding. Taking the leadshank, Vicky tied the horse to a ring on the side of the trailer."How's my baby this morning?" she inquired, kissing his nose.

"You know, my dad says you're gonna get a fat lip, kissing horseslike that," Mateo warned. "If he tosses his head..."

"Oh, Maple wouldn't do that do me, would you, sweetie?" Vicky saidlightly.

Mateo looked at Catherine and shrugged, opening the other trailerdoor. Catherine's expression turned apprehensive.

"Where's Blue?" she asked.

"She came up lame this morning," Mateo said apologetically."Fiesta's the only other horse we had available." He grinned. "Dadsays that if anybody can manage him in Central Park, you can!"

Catherine sighed. She'd known Mateo's father, Juan, when she was agirl and he worked at the Long Island riding stable where she firsttook lessons, and later kept her own horse. Years later, when Vickybecame horse-struck and begged for lessons, Catherine had beenpleased to find out that, in the intervening years, Juan had managedto purchase the stable.

It was Juan who had persuaded her to ride again. He had neverdoubted her old skills would return with practice; it wasn't longbefore Catherine looked forward to Vicky's riding lessons as much asVicky did.

Juan had bred and raised Fiesta himself. The magnificent chestnutgelding stood over sixteen hands, with showy white socks on bothfront legs. Catherine rode him often, but in unfamiliar surroundingsFiesta was unreliable, at best. She could probably handle him, butshe didn't look forward to the struggle, and sighed again, amused andexasperated by Juan's easy confidence in her abilities.

"All right, Mateo," she agreed. "I guess I have no choice."

Still grinning, Mateo backed Fiesta out of the trailer and tiedhim where he wouldn't be in the way of Vicky, who was brushingMaple.

Already Fiesta was snorting in the crisp fall air, pricking hisears and dancing sideways, trying to look three directions at once,so Catherine moved to his head in an attempt to settle him longenough for Mateo to get her saddle on him.

While Vicky used a saddle provided by the stable, Catherine stillhad her own, left over from her youth. She'd found it, along with herboots and hard hat, carefully stored away in the basement of herfather's house.

"Leg up, Miss Cathy?" Mateo asked when both horses were tackedup.

"Vicky first," Catherine advised. Fiesta was still dancingrestlessly, and she wanted to walk him a little before mounting. Shecouldn't put the moment off forever, so she finally fastened thechinstrap on her hat, gathered the reins, and offered her leg toMateo, who lifted her easily into the saddle.

Fiesta jigged sideways, tossing his head, and she swung him in atight circle. "Ready?" she asked Vicky, who was already mounted andwaiting impatiently.

* * * *As the eastern sky began to lighten, Vincentemerged from the northernmost tunnel entrance to Central Park. He hadno idea why Catherine wanted him out here, but she asked, so here hewas. Using bordering trees and shrubs as cover, he moved to a nearbyhillside. A sharp breeze blew, rustling the dry leaves underfoot ashe settled into a small copse of evergreens to wait.

A strong thread of anticipation reached him, and he automaticallyidentified it as Vicky's; Catherine's emotions were less distinct. Hecould sense their approach from the east, and turned to watch forthem.

A pair of early-morning horseback riders came slowly into view andhe watched them almost absently. The rider on the smaller horsepointed in his direction and veered, leaving the bridle path togallop straight toward him. Half-rearing, the other horse tried tofollow; it was only when Catherine's sharp rush of impatientannoyance reached him that he recognized the riders.

By then, Catherine had her horse in hand and was jogging towardhim. He turned his attention to Vicky, who had pulled to a stop a fewfeet away.

"Hi, Daddy!" she called.

"Good morning, Victoria."

"Were you surprised to see us?"

"Astounded," he assured her. "This must be your surprise."

Grinning, Vicky thumped her mount's neck affectionately. "This isMaple. I ride him most of the time at my lessons," she introduced."Mom's riding Fiesta, but she wishes she didn't have to."

"Why is that?" Vincent turned his attention to Catherine'shorse.

Alternately tossing his head high and thrusting it down in anendeavor for more rein, Fiesta danced sideways up the shallow slope,flicking his tail impatiently. As the big gelding neared the crest ofthe little hill, Vincent stepped out from behind Vicky's horse, andFiesta stopped short, pricking his ears. He tried to swerve away, butCatherine was ready for him, hands and legs keeping him straight,urging him forward.

Catherine was forcing the reluctant gelding to take one unwillingstep at a time when a stray gust of wind caught Vincent's cloak,snapping it out behind him. Nostrils flaring, Fiesta shied, lungingsideways. Catherine had just brought him around to face Vincent againwhen Vicky's horse stepped on a dead branch, snapping it with areport like a pistol shot.

Fiesta had enough. Sinking back on his haunches, he spun around ina motion so rapid he simply left his rider behind. For aheart-stopping second Catherine fought to regain her precariousbalance, clutching at rein and mane, before Fiesta bolted. Vincentwatched in horror as she fell, and was beside her almost before shehit the ground.

"Catherine?"

Vicky was there, too, leaning from her saddle. "Geez, Mom. Thatwas spectacular! Are you okay?"

Already Vincent was sensing that she was more stunned than hurt,but it was still a relief when Catherine uncurled from the fetalposition she'd adopted when she fell. "I'm okay," she saidbreathlessly. "Catch him, Vicky, before he hurts himself."

Nodding dutifully, Vicky trotted in pursuit of Fiesta. Vincentstill crouched beside Catherine. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded, getting shakily to her feet. "Just a badly bruiseddignity," she admitted, dusting herself off. She looked up, meetinghis eyes. "Really, Vincent. I'm okay."

They moved to the shelter of the evergreens and a minute laterVicky reappeared, leading a recaptured but unrepentant Fiesta.

"Here, Mom," she said, handing over the reins. "I found him justpast those trees, grazing."

Catherine took the reins, tossing them over his head. "You badboy," she scolded gently. "What did you do that for?"

Predictably, the horse didn't answer, and Catherine turned him,gathering the reins. "I need a leg up, Vincent," she said over hershoulder. "He's too tall for me."

Hesitantly, Vincent stepped closer. Catherine's fall had disturbedhim, and he was reluctant to see her horseback again.

"Don't worry, Daddy," Vicky reassured him. "People who ride a lotget thrown, but they hardly ever get hurt because it happens so fast.They don't have time to stiffen up. Just take her ankle and lift,"she added helpfully.

Catherine waited expectantly, and, after a moment, Vincentfollowed Vicky's instructions, lifting at the count of three.Catherine floated up lightly, settling comfortably into the saddle,instinctively checking Fiesta's impatient forward motion. "Quitthat," she told him. "Wait for me this time."

She took him out onto the open slope, trotting him a few austerecircles before bringing him back to Vincent. Sliding off, she ran herstirrups up so they wouldn't jangle, pulled off her hat, tucking itunder one arm, and nodded to Vicky.

"Go ahead," she called. "Show your father what you'velearned."

Brimming with nervous pride and pleasure, Vicky guided her horseout onto the open slope. Remembering Juan's patient lessons, sheresisted the urge to show off and began to trot quietly.

Standing at the edge of the evergreen copse, Catherine startededucating Vincent in the ways of horse and rider. "See how he has hishead down and his neck flexed? That keeps his back rounded and getshis hindquarters under him so he's balanced."

"Is that important?" Vincent asked, genuinely wanting to knowmore.

"He can respond to commands more quickly if he's balanced, so yes,it's important. She's really very good, you know," Catherine addedwith pride. "Juan says she has a rapport with the horses she rides.They listen to her."

On the slope, Vicky had urged Maple into a canter, and was weavingintricate circles.

"Why does she change gaits whenever she alters direction?" Vincentasked, intrigued.

"Because when a horse canters, he leads with one side. He needs tobe in the left lead to turn left and the right lead to turn right.She's slowing him to a trot so he can change leads. If he's in thewrong lead and turns sharply, he could fall. It isn't balanced."

"I see," Vincent said. Watching his daughter, absorbing the senseof rhythm pulsating through their connection, he could almost feelwhat Catherine was telling him, what Vicky was experiencing. He likedthe sensation.

The sun was moments away from rising when Vicky jogged back towardthem. "Did you see, Daddy?" she called.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm impressed."

Vicky grinned. "I'm learning," she said. "You ought to see Mom,though. She's really good."

"I've ridden for a lot more years," Catherine demurred. "You getbetter every time you ride."

"Maybe. Anyway, it's your turn."

"Vicky, I don't think..." Catherine began.

"Come on, Mom. This is probably the only chance Daddy will everhave to see you ride."

Catherine hesitated, and Vincent added his voice. The image ofCatherine's fall was still with him, but he wanted the joy ofwatching her, just this once.

His soft "please" vanquished Catherine's reluctance, and he helpedher to mount. Vicky moved her horse close beside her father towatch.

Catherine spent a few moments duplicating some of the easyexercises Vicky had executed, allowing Fiesta to warm up. Vincentcould see how the delicate way she handled him calmed hishead-tossing jig into a relaxed, balanced trot.

"See?" Vicky said. "I told you she was good! Fiesta can be a realmess sometimes! Juan says that's because he's a Thoroughbred, so whatdo you expect." She stood in her stirrups. "Mom! The picnictable!"

Vincent could see Catherine's puzzled frown as she looked towardtheir daughter.

"The picnic table!" Vicky called again, making a curious swoopingmotion with her hand. "Do it!"

Vincent was baffled, but Catherine seemed to understand. Shakingher head doubtfully, she rode Fiesta to a lone picnic table only afew yards from the shelter of a huge maple tree. She walked himaround it, studying the ground for several yards on either side.

Vincent didn't grasp what was happening, but he felt Catherine'sindecision replaced by anticipation as she turned Fiesta and trottedaway.

"She's going to do it," Vicky whispered. "Watch."

Catherine swung the big gelding in a wide circle, pushing him intoa canter, riding him straight toward the table. Vincent's first,instinctive response was fear for her, but Catherine wasn't afraid.In complete control of her mount, she was enjoying herself, so hequashed the misgivings, letting her feelings sweep him as Fiestaneared the table, gathered himself, leaped...

For an instant, horse and rider seemed to hang motionless,perfectly balanced, before gravity took over, completing the arc asFiesta touched down on the far side of the table and galloped on.Vincent was still assimilating the pleasurable shock of the firstjump when he realized that Catherine had circled and was gallopingtoward the table from the other direction.

Beside him, Vicky counted strides under her breath. "Five, four,three, two, one, go!"

Her timing was flawless. Fiesta left the ground, and again, therewas an indescribable moment of perfection at the apex of the jump,horse and rider silhouetted against the pale eastern sky, in utterharmony with one another.

The sharp rush of Catherine's elation blended with Vicky's joyfulshout in the crisp morning air; Vincent absorbed it all, wanting tokeep this moment forever.

Too soon, it was over; the sun was coming up, making the park aperilous place for him. Catherine trotted back, controlling Fiesta'senthusiasm easily now.

Catherine and Vicky escorted Vincent to the drainage pipe. As theyneared it they stopped; Vicky leaned down from her horse to hug him."Thank you for coming, Daddy."

"Thank you, Victoria. You've given me a memory I will always holdclose."

She grinned with pleasure.

He turned to Catherine, who didn't dare take her hands from thereins for a hug, but bent down to kiss him lightly. "Go now. Morningis here."

At the entrance, he looked back. Catherine and Vicky had alreadyturned the horses and were riding away from him. He paused to watch,still awed by the gift they had given him this day, the effort theyhad poured into expanding his world.

For as long as he lived, he would keep the precious memories: ofVicky's pride as she demonstrated her newborn skill, the taut beautyof the horses, and mostly, that incredible moment of perfection whenCatherine and Fiesta soared gracefully over the picnic table. With asigh made up of longing and completion, he went into the tunnel,leaving the light behind.

The End