toying with father

   Isolde looked at me and said between gasps, "One lesson from this ride: Stick together." I failed to mention that when we left the Madrevite winery we'd have another hill to climb before we headed home. Thomasina and I had swapped bikes so I was now on the nice Stumpjumper while she was on the heavy clunker. But despite this, she eased away from Isolde and I and by the time we reached the intersection at the top, she was gone. But which way? Back to Villastrada from where we had come or across the white roads to Cioncola in the direction of Le Coste and home. We coasted along looking in both directions until I finally asked Isolde to stop and wait while I raced back to Villastrada. No Thomasina. I rejoined Isolde and we climbed up to Poggi and through the narrow gap between the buildings where the view opened up across the hills. No Thomasina. "Do you girls know these roads? Would she know how to get home from here?" "No!" "OK, I think we should go back to Villastrada and down that way. She'd know that road."
   Earlier that day, on the long climb up from the valley to Villastrada, Thomasina rode away from Isolde and I, establishing herself as the best climber. Light, skinny riders do this to their friends. Being light and skinny myself, I used to do this too. But now I'm old and creaky as well as light and skinny, and my children are doing this to me now. At least Thomasina is. I never felt it was a competitive instinct that would drive me to do this, but now I know better. We found her resting at the top, red-faced and radiant. Isolde and I red-faced and defeated.
   Now, a little worried, Isolde and I huffed and puffed back to Villastrada and began our long coast down through the little town and out onto the open descent to the valley floor. It's a long, straight, gentle descent that makes one feel like a soaring bird. And the landscape sweeps away and it seems miles are covered with no effort. But in all the openness, no Thomasina.
   And it dawned on me, of course she went the other way. She pressed her advantage on the hill to guarantee she arrived home first. From the high country all the nearby landmarks could be seen and the direction home would have been evident even if she had never been on the roads before. She was, right now, home waiting for us. Red-faced and radiant.
    "What if she's been kidnapped? What if she has crashed? Or maybe she's lost." Isolde's worry grew with every pedal stroke. We cranked along the long road home, my shoulders down in the headwind. This, the very same stretch of road where the girls pedaled away from me for the first time as I ran
behind, helping with their balance. "What do we do if she's not there when we get home?" "We'll back-track with the car." Isolde needed a plan. I was the leader, but I wasn't leading now. And I knew the ache in my legs was the same feeling Thomasina must have felt getting closer to home. But better. And only I was feeling the ache in my knees.