Miracle at Santa Anita Prologue October 30, 1963 Hannah traced a figure eight in the dust with her

black patent shoes as she sat in the swing. People filed in and out of the house, some with food and others with flowers and bottles of liquor. They gave her sympathetic looks from a distance. No one wanted to smother her. Like her mother Carolyn, she possessed a fierce independence. Unlike her mother, she could take a deep breath and pretend those people were stick figures. The navy blue dress was not her choice. She wanted the cream colored dress her mother bought for her on their trip to Bloomingdales a month ago. The tags were still attached. Her aunt believed navy to be more appropriate for a funeral. She didnt know how much Carolyn loved the new dress. She stiffened when she recalled her aunt Janes hostility. Why arent you crying? Jane asked, dabbing her eyes between short sips of wine. Im always crying, whether you can see it or not, said Hannah. Jane grabbed the entire bottle of wine and said, Theres something really wrong with you before retreating to the patio. Hannah clenched teeth when she thought about her drunken aunt. A cab arrived and a dark-headed man wearing a suit and aviator sunglasses emerged. He corralled a little girl with auburn tresses over to Hannah. She climbed into the swing next to her. Daddy, push me, she pleaded. He pushed her until she was able to propel herself into the sky. Hannah yearned for that kind of innocence. He looked at Hannah and said, How are you doing sweetheart? It was really the first time that day someone addressed her. Maybe it was her standoffishness or her resemblance to the shattered woman in the casket. They hovered around her father like he was the child. A speck of dust flew into Hannahs eye at that moment. She pawed at it as if that would knock it out. Blink honey, just blink. It will come out. She followed his instructions and everything was fine. She wondered why everything couldnt be that simple. How long will you be here? she asked.

He removed his sunglasses as his daughter Marty kept swinging, her auburn hair whipping around in the breeze. His eyes looked sunken in and rimmed with dark circles. I told your dad wed stay for a week. How would you feel about going to Coney Island tomorrow with us? She craved normalcy, but she wasnt sure an amusement park was what she needed. The high-pitched neigh of a horse reminded her that she needed to tend to the stables. The chaos of the last four days had left them a little neglected and Hannah felt a pang of guilt for it. Thank you very much, but I need to stay here and help out. The stables need to be cleaned and I really need to ride Hershey. I havent been on her since this whole thing happened. Mark inspected his sunglasses and took a handkerchief out of his pocket to polished them until they glistened in the sunlight. Theres something we need to talk about, he said. She hopped off the swing and said, We can talk at the stables and before he could object, she took off. Mark cursed to himself and collected his daughter. Hannah stopped in front of Hersheys stall. The mare stuck her head out of the stall when Hannah arrived and she lowered it so the girl could feed her the carrots she had in her pocket. Mark and Marty arrived before the last carrot was gone. Mark steered Hannah over to a bale of hay while Marty made a beeline for the tack room with a coloring book and crayons in hand. You might want to sit down honey, he said. She knew him well enough to know that he had news and it wasnt good. He was her godfather, and a good man. Sometimes she wished he was her father. Your dad is selling the farm. He just cant take it. Your mom was the heartbeat of this place and without her. . . Hannahs throat tightened and her numb heart took a shot of disbelief. She never thought he would sell so soon. He doesnt want you to ride anymore. What? Now she felt nauseous. He couldnt keep her from something that was integral to her existence. Riding was in her blood. She looked at her chocolate

colored mare and it occurred to her that Hershey would be sold out from under her. The tears came and she leaned on Mark until her ducts were fully dried out. Youre welcome to ride anytime you come visit us. I offered to buy Hershey, but your dad said your neighbor already offered. Makes more geographical sense anyway. When are you and Marty flying back to L.A.? Probably tomorrow. The Coney Island trip was your dads idea. You should take the day to spend here. Hannah and Marty sat in the swing on the front porch. Despite their three-year age difference, Hannah didnt mind spending time with her. It was like having a little sister with no strings attached. Mark joined them even though he should have been in bed. They watched the realtor put the For Sale sign by the road. Hannah shuddered when she thought of living anywhere else. The flameless pumpkins saddened Hannah. Halloween was her mothers favorite holiday and she put more effort into it than Christmas or any other holiday. No less than five jack-o-lanterns inhabited the open space of the porch, albeit minus the inner glow that made their features spooky. Halloween was her mothers favorite holiday and those pumpkins were her masterpieces. She never did anything halfway. One was a witch and another was a pirate. Even her Jack Kennedy bore enough of a resemblance to the commander-in-chief. A single un-carved pumpkin was for Hannah and her Cinderella obsession. Carolyn devoted hours to sewing the glittery blue gown. Hannah couldnt look at it without crying, so it stayed in the closet with the Bloomingdales dress. Hannah turned her eyes towards her pumpkin and wished it would turn into a carriage to take her to a world where a drunken driver hadnt killed her mother. She closed her eyes as if she could will that to happen. The creaky sound of the front door opening brought her back to Earth. Her father strode out with a nearly finished bottle of Jim Beam. He took in the remainder and flung the bottle off the side of the porch. His tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes frightened Hannah. She inched herself closer to Mark, who glared at his old friend with a ferocity she had never seen. Mike picked up one of the pumpkins and flung it into the yard. No goddamn trick or treaters coming here, he muttered. He proceeded to pitch every somber pumpkin off the porch before storming off inside and slamming the door shut. Marty nudged her father. Daddy? Yes honey?

What happened? Mr. Mike is having a really hard time. Hannah blinked and tried to erase what she had seen. The tears fought their way out and she broke down in sobs. Her magical pumpkin lay in ruin about a foot away from the realtors sign. Mark hugged her like she was his own child and let her cry it out. She took several deep breaths and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief he gave her. I think I will go with you all tomorrow. I dont want to be here.