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Authors: Fern Michaels

Kentucky Sunrise (11 page)

BOOK: Kentucky Sunrise
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Nealy leaned over to kiss Maggie's cheek before she trotted off to find Hatch.
 
 
Nealy lay quietly, listening to her husband's even breathing. Hatch slept like a log, whereas of late she did little more than snooze her way through the night. Maybe it was the thin slice of moonlight on the bedcovers that was keeping her awake. Then again, maybe it was Emmie and her own feeling of guilt that wouldn't allow her to sleep.
She stretched out her legs and immediately regretted it. The cramp in the calf of her leg was so bad she bolted out of bed. She'd read somewhere that if you pressed your instep on top of the other foot, the cramp would go away. She did it and felt instant relief.
Maud's rocker beckoned. She hobbled over to it and sat down, her hands massaging the taut muscle. Wide-awake, she gazed around the room, her eyes coming to rest on her sleeping husband. He was so good, so kind, and she loved him with all her heart. And now she was going to throw him a curve by insisting they move back here to the farm. While her heart would always belong to Blue Diamond Farms, she had slowly weaned herself from it. Now, she was thrust smack-dab in the center of it again. Was she being selfish, thinking of herself instead of her daughter?
Nealy sighed as she reached for her robe hanging on the back of the rocker. She slipped into it and fumbled under the bed for her slippers. Tiptoeing out of the room, she closed the door gently and walked down the hall to the kitchen stairway. Maybe if she sat on the front porch with a cup of coffee, she could think better. Maybe it wasn't the front porch that she needed. Maybe she needed to go out to the stallion cemetery and sit.
While the coffee dripped, Nealy paced, up and down the kitchen, then back and forth. In her entire life she'd never been so wired up. Things were out of control through no fault of her own.
Once life had been simple. She ate, she slept, and she trained and worked with the horses. That was before the fire that scarred her forever. Marriage had changed her, too. And while she loved Hatch, there was something missing from her life, and that something was Blue Diamond Farms.
Nealy poured herself a mug of coffee and carried it outside. It was a beautiful evening with stars sprinkling the heavens. It was warm and balmy, not yet hot and sultry like it would be in a few weeks. A perfect May evening.
She walked across the driveway, stopping when she thought she heard voices. She tiptoed around to the side of the house. Emmie and Nick were on the porch talking. She smiled in the darkness. Nick, with his common sense, would make Emmie understand the seriousness of her condition. Maybe he could convince her to go to Fanny Thornton's center for treatment. She forced herself to walk away even though she wanted to join them.
In the cemetery, she sat down on the stone bench she'd sat on hundreds of times. From her pocket she withdrew a pack of cigarettes. She'd quit smoking so many times she'd lost count, but the turmoil she was going through called for a cigarette. She could quit again tomorrow. She fired up a cigarette and leaned back against the cold bench. In front of her, fireflies danced for her enjoyment. The air was sweet from the tea olive trees planted along the borders of the cemetery, Maud's favorite trees, which she'd gotten from South Carolina, guaranteed to die in Kentucky's climate. They hadn't died, though, because Maud had planted a buffer of hedges to shield them from the winter weather. And she'd always covered them in November. During a really cold spell she'd set out smudge pots, something Nealy herself had followed through with every year. She sniffed. Emmie always said the tea olives smelled like bubble gum. Nick said they smelled like cherry-grape candies.
“I don't know what to do, Maud,” she whispered. “You always used to say, and Jess agreed with you, that when you don't know what to do, do nothing. How can I do nothing when Emmie's well-being is at stake? It has to be her decision in the end, but I should know the words to convince her to take this chance. I did it after the fire, but I'm not Emmie. I'm to blame for all this. Hatch and Fanny say I'm not, but I am. I swear, I wanted to lie down and die when Emmie said she was only doing what I told her to do all these years, which was to work through the pain. You did it, I did it, but I think both of us were wise enough to know the difference between an ache or a pain as opposed to what Emmie is going through. Then there's that part of me that can't understand my daughter's stupidity. She had to know she had a serious condition. Was she trying to be like me? I just don't understand.”
“It's not your fault, Nealy. Stop being so hard on yourself. Emmie is a grown woman. You can't shoulder the blame for her condition.”
“Hunt. Oh, Hunt, you haven't talked to me in a long time. I know, I know, this is just another dream. For some reason I always feel better when I dream about you. I'm so worried about Emmie.”
“You have to cut her loose, Nealy. It's time for her to become her own person. I know how that sounds, like you're forsaking her, but you aren't. If she isn't tough enough to do it, you'll have to be strong and push her away. Do you want her to live on drugs for the rest of her life? Do you want to coddle her and watch her shrivel in front of your eyes? Fanny gave you the solution.”
“Sometimes, Hunt, the solution is worse than the condition itself. I don't know if she can handle it.”
“Her options ran out, Nealy. Right now she doesn't have any other choice. Convince her it's the way to go. Take her to Vegas.”
“All right, Hunt. Aren't the fireflies beautiful?”
“Yes, they are. Let's talk about you, Nealy. Tell me what you want.”
“Just to stay here where I belong. I'd like to train Hifly. You know what, Hunt, there's something about Gadfly that nags at me. That is one mean horse. I feel like I did something wrong. That's stupid but it's how I feel. Emmie said he's a horror and he is.”
“That's because he's in pain. He has an ulcer. How come I have to tell you these things?”
“Because I'm stupid, that's why. I've only been back a little while. I kept looking at him and watching him. I think I might have figured it out, Hunt. Maybe not this quick but eventually.”
“I know the way your brain is working, Nealy. You're already thinking about
two
horses in the Derby, aren't you? The kid on Hifly and you on Gadfly. You've made history already but
two
horses from the same sire running against each other in the Derby? Man, that would make the whole world sit up and take notice.”
“For God's sake, Hunt, are you forgetting how old I am? Listen, I'm tired. I don't think I could do that again.”
“Sure you could. You and the kid. That's smart, keeping it in the family. Come on, Nealy, you've been thinking about this. I know you have. Shoemaker did it, and a lot of others. They're men. For sure they'll put you on the cover of
Modern Maturity
if you pull it off. You have two years to decide.”
Nealy stirred and opened her eyes. She must have dozed off. She looked down at the luminous hands on her watch: 3:33. The night was still warm, and the fireflies were still dancing in the velvety night. Overhead, the clouds dispersed to reveal a star-spangled sky. She sniffed the fragrant air and sighed. She was home.
Where she belonged.
“Thanks, Hunt,” she whispered as she made her way back to the house.
Now she had a plan.
Nealy walked through the house and into the living room. The door was open enough so that she could hear Emmie and Nick talking softly. She turned to make her way up the stairs when she heard Nick's cry of anguish. She stopped and turned around. This time she listened to her children talking.
“What do you mean, Willow called you? We've been sitting out here for over two hours and you're just now telling me! That's unforgivable, Emmie! I can't believe you didn't call me when she visited you in the hospital. If the situation was reversed, the phone would have been in my hand the minute she walked through the door. You should have hung up on her, never given her the time of day. Damn.”
“I'm sorry, Nick. I thought I could find out something that would help you, get some answers for you. I didn't know . . . how could I, what a mean person she is?”
“You read that report Hatch gave me. Are you blind, Emmie? Don't you think? Where in God's name is your head? This is your MO, Emmie. It's how you do everything. How many times did I tell you to go to the doctor? How many, Emmie? Six, seven, a dozen? You didn't listen. Now you have a serious medical condition, and you're being dumb-ass stubborn again. You need to grow up and take some responsibility here. So what if she goes to Buddy? So what? You should have told him about Gabby from the git-go. You didn't listen to me about that either. Or Hatch. He told you the same thing.
“You know what, Emmie, if Willow feels like putting the screws to me, she's going to tell Buddy anyway. You're in no condition to fight her or Buddy. This is the kind of thing that happens when you let things spin out of control. All right, I'll go to see her. Jesus, I just can't believe you let this happen.”
Nealy had heard enough. She opened the screen door and advanced on her children. “I'm not going to apologize. I was on my way upstairs when I heard you two talking. It sounded like something was wrong. Can I do anything? Can any of us do anything, Nick?”
“Willow is my problem, Mom. I'll handle it. I'm going to go to bed now. I think the two of you have some talking to do. Good night.”
“Good night, Nick,” Nealy said.
Emmie whimpered into a tissue.
“I'm going to assume that Willow is the Mary Ann that called you. Emmie, why didn't you tell us? Did she say what she wanted? Surely she doesn't want Nick back, or does she?”
“Mom, I don't know what she really wants. She
said
she's wanted for questioning in a murder case. She said she didn't have anything to do with her husband's murder. She just goes around marrying men and leaving them. I think she wants Nick's firm to represent her. I don't really know. I'm just guessing. She threatened to tell Buddy about Gabby if I didn't arrange a meeting with Nick.”
“That's blackmail. You could have called the police. Or me, Emmie.”
“I could have done a lot of things, Mom. I didn't, okay? In your eyes I am never going to be able to do anything right. I've accepted that. I'll go with Aunt Fanny to Las Vegas, and Sage can keep Gabby for me. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone.”
“Emmie, it doesn't have to be like this. All we want to do is help you.”
“I don't need you, Mom. I don't want you coming to Vegas with me either. You stay here and run the farm the way you always did.”
“Emmie . . .”
“Mom, go in the house and leave me alone before one of us says something we'll regret.”
5
A light drizzle was falling as Nick Clay drove into the parking lot of the famous Kentucky Inn. He cut the engine and leaned back against the seat. An army of worms crawled around inside his stomach, and he was having difficulty breathing. Now, after all this time, he was going to come face-to-face with Willow, his ex-wife, the woman he'd given his young heart to. He closed his eyes, willing his mind to bring forth a picture of Willow behind his closed lids. He wished he was a little kid so he could cry. What was he going to feel when he finally saw her face-to-face? Would his feelings show? Would disgust wash through him? He wished he knew so he could prepare himself.
He looked out of the window and watched three plump bluebirds huddle under an oleander bush, raindrops spilling all about them. He wondered if the birds were related. What a crazy thought. Still, when had he ever seen three birds clustered together anywhere? Never, that's when. Was it an omen? He finally decided the birds were looking out for one another just the way he was going to have to look out for Emmie.
Son of a fucking bitch,
he seethed as he opened the door to climb out of the farm's pickup.
He was dressed casually in creased jeans, Nikes, and a Polo shirt. His hair was slicked back but still unruly. Emmie had said he looked delicious, with his golden tan against the stark whiteness of his shirt.
In all the years he'd lived in Kentucky, he'd never been to the Inn. And it was
the
Inn. People from all over the world stayed at the Kentucky Inn when they came for Derby Week. He couldn't help but wonder how Willow had managed to snag a room since the Inn, according to the newspapers, was always booked a year in advance. It was obvious to him now that Willow got what Willow wanted when Willow wanted it. He made a mental promise to himself to come back another day and explore the famous inn.
His gaze swept the crowded lobby. He saw her one split second before she saw him. He had just that one second to realize she was just as pretty as he remembered. He made his way toward her, through the milling crowd of early
Derbyites.
Willow motioned for him to sit down opposite her. A small table with a coffee service sat in the middle. “Black, one sugar, right?” Willow said.
Nick shook his head. “No, thanks. Let's get to it, Willow. No games. What is it you want?” He was amazed at how cold and uncaring his voice sounded.
“I want you. We're still married, Nick.” Her voice was still as soft as he remembered, almost a purr, mesmerizing. He fought the urge to clench his fists in preparation to slugging her in front of everyone.
“No, we're not married, Willow. I divorced you. I have the papers to prove it. Don't go down that road. Now, what is it you want?”
“A divorce is just a piece of paper just the way a marriage license is a piece of paper. We were married. We made love. We slept in each other's arms. You swore to love me forever. I want free legal counsel. I'm being set up for something I didn't do, and I want your firm to represent me. The man I was living with was murdered. They need someone to pin it on, and I'm their target. I didn't do it, but I can't prove it. I wasn't anywhere near the ranch when he was killed. I want you to head up the legal team, oversee everything. That's it, no more, no less, Nick. Consider it a favor for old times' sake.”
“The firm doesn't do criminal law. I don't do criminal law. You need to get yourself a criminal lawyer for whatever it was you didn't do. Besides, we don't practice outside the state of New Mexico.”
“Now, that's lie number two. Lie number one is, yes, you do handle criminal law. I checked it out. Your firm is the best of the best. Right now, I need the best and your firm is it. Hatch Littletree and Bode Jessup both defended people accused of murder, and they won their cases. Both are licensed to practice outside the state. Hatch can practice in any state of the union. Maybe you can't, but they sure can. I need an immediate answer, Nick.”
“I'm speaking for myself, and the answer is no. Hatch is semiretired, and Bode is basically running the firm. We all have full caseloads. I'm also low man on the totem pole, and my opinion doesn't count for much, so I would suggest you go elsewhere.”
Willow brought the delicate porcelain coffee cup to her lips. “This is your way of getting back at me, Nick. I suppose in the scheme of things, I can understand your attitude. I won't take no for an answer. Make it happen. If you don't, honey, I'm going to call Buddy Owens just the way I told Emmie I would.”
“How can you be so spiteful, so cruel? Emmie never did a thing to you. She went out of her way to be nice to you. I never did anything to you either, and yet you walked out on me. Why did you do that? I want to hear you tell me why.”
“Because your mother saw through my little charade. We both had a week of fun. You were so cute and such an apt learner once you got the hang of lovemaking. I still think of you fondly. If we had stayed together, you would have smothered me, Nick. I need my space. I like the challenge of... Look, it is what it is. Like I told Emmie, I may be a lot of things, but I'm no murderer. None of my . . . ah . . . husbands is going to make waves. Every single one of them has an ego that won't allow him to be made a fool of. I was very careful of my choices, so there's no problem there. You divorced me, so that's not a concern either. If there's no one to file charges of bigamy, I'm off the hook. Get me out of this and I'll disappear and you'll never hear from me again. I meant it when I said I would tell Buddy about Emmie's little girl. You help me, and I'll keep quiet.”
Nick squirmed in his chair. “How do I know I can trust you? All you do is lie and manipulate.” He couldn't believe he had said what he just said. Still, he had to consider Emmie and her wishes.
“That's a chance you have to take. What's it going to be?”
Nick looked around the plush lobby, at the chattering guests drinking mint juleps at noon on a Sunday morning.
Doesn't anyone go to church anymore?
Waiters in pristine white coats and immaculate gloves mingled among the guests with trays perched high over their shoulders. Piano music wafted his way, probably from the bar area. There was so much old money in the room, Nick thought he could smell it.
“I told you, Willow, it's not my decision to make. I have to talk to the partners.” He leaned across the table and hissed between his teeth, “You say one word to Buddy Owens, and I'll hunt you down and kill you myself. Emmie has enough on her plate right now without worrying about you telling Buddy about Gabby.”
Willow looked into his eyes and purred, “Ooohh, I love it when you get mad like this. You look so
manly.
I wouldn't object if you wanted to go upstairs and renew what we once had.”
“I'd rather renew old feelings with a rattlesnake. I'll get back to you when I have something to report.” He was on his feet a second later. He managed to thread his way through the gaggle of people clustered everywhere in the lobby. The minute he was outside, he took a deep breath of air. He felt drained and disoriented as he made his way across the parking lot to the pickup. Six cars were waiting for his parking space. He looked around, panic on his face, to see if the three birds were still huddled under the bush. They were, but farther back in the shrubbery. For some odd reason he felt relief at the sight.
“Shit!” he said as he backed out of his parking space and crawled through the parking lot and out to the highway. “Shit, shit, shit!”
 
 
Nealy clutched at Hatch's arm. “There's something about saying good-bye on a rainy day that doesn't sit right with me,” she fretted. “I know I'm going to cry when Nick carries Emmie down to the car. How am I going to say good-bye to Gabby? The poor thing is so confused. Maybe it is the right thing but, then again, maybe it isn't. She's so little to be taken away and thrust among strangers, and they will be strangers to her even though they're family. I don't feel good about this, Hatch.”
Hatch reached for his wife's hand. “You have to accept that this is what Emmie wants, honey.” He squeezed her hand in a show of support.
“But Hatch, I'm her mother, I should be going with her. This feels so . . . so terminal. I think I'm scared. No, no, I
know
I'm scared. If I feel like this, imagine how Emmie must feel. Hang on to me, Hatch, or I'm going to run after her and drag her back.”
“Easy, Nealy. Here comes Fanny. Smile, honey.”
Fanny wrapped her arms around Nealy, and whispered, “I know just what you're feeling. We're going to take very good care of your daughter. Sage will pick you up at the airport first thing tomorrow. Emmie doesn't know you're coming, so let's keep it at that. We'll do . . . do what we discussed when you arrive. Jake will be ready with all his gear when you're ready to return. We're going to make it work, Nealy. I'll see you in the morning at Babylon.”
Nealy wiped at the corner of her eye. “Okay, Fanny. Thank you.”
Nick joined his mother and Hatch on the porch the moment the line of cars headed out to the main road. He looked at his watch. “Hatch, I need to talk to you. Mom, you need to hear this, too. Let's go inside. It's damp out here, and I can see you're shivering.”
Nick looked first at his mother and then at Hatch. He reiterated his conversation with Willow and didn't spare himself when it came to recounting his emotions.
“That's blackmail,” Nealy sputtered.
“Of course it's blackmail,” Nick said tightly. “How else do you think she could convince me to help her? Emmie is . . . Emmie is wild about this. Now that she has this condition, and her activities are so limited, it is conceivable that Buddy could file for custody. A judge won't look kindly on Emmie for not telling him he has a daughter. He could get custody of Gabby if he knew. Am I right, Hatch?”
“He's on the money, Nealy.”
“This is so like Emmie,” Nick said. “She never thinks things through. I tried to get her to tell Buddy. The time to do it was when Gabby was born. Back then he just wanted to be rid of Emmie, so the chances of his wanting a child at that same time were nil. She didn't do it.”
“Nick and I both tried to talk her into telling Buddy about Gabby,” Hatch added. “I wanted to do it legally, with a letter and the courts, but Emmie was adamantly opposed.”
Nealy twisted her hands in agitation as she looked from her husband to her son. “How do we know Willow won't tell Buddy even if you agree to help her? Say you do agree, and somehow it goes wrong with her even with your excellent representation. Just suppose she gets angry and tells him anyway just for spite. I knew that girl was trouble the minute I set eyes on her. I'm sorry, Nick. I wish things hadn't turned out this way.”
Nick poured himself a cup of coffee. “Don't sweat it, Mom. There's more. When I got back from the Inn, I made some phone calls. Guess what I found out! Willow worked as a chef in Fanny Thornton's casino, Babylon. She just walked out one day. I guess that's her MO. She did the same thing in Bermuda. I asked Sage about it. I think I blew his mind when I told him I'd been married to his chef. Talk about someone's mouth going slack and agape.”
Hatch stood with his back to the screen door. “Nick, what did he actually say?”
Nick cleared his throat. “He said to run as far and as fast as I could. He said I didn't want to be tarred with that brush. You know how it is in Vegas. Junior Belez is . . . was a high roller. There's a very large estate involved, but since Willow wasn't legally married, I don't know what the hell it means. All Willow said to me was that she's wanted for questioning. She said she was a lot of things but not a murderer. I don't think she's a murderer either. According to her, they're going to try to pin the murder on her. If she's arrested, they won't give her bail because she'll be considered a flight risk, which means she sits in jail. The thought doesn't pain me at all,” Nick said coldly. “However, no one should spend time in jail unless they're guilty of something. She's staying at the Kentucky Inn, Hatch. I wish you would talk to her and see what you think.”
Nealy continued to wring her hands. Finally, she stuffed them in the pockets of her slacks. “I can go to Ohio and talk to Buddy.”
“No!” The single word exploded out of Nick's mouth like a gunshot. “That's the worst thing you can do right now. You didn't see old Buddy sending you any Christmas cards after he dumped Emmie, did you? You, Mom, are just as much a part of his problem as Emmie is. You never wake a sleeping tiger, just as you never ask a question unless you already know the answer.”
“Nick's right, honey,” Hatch said. “I'll call and arrange to meet with Willow. I'm not making any promises to either one of you. Let's understand that going in.”
“Can you keep this quiet, Hatch? I don't want those film people finding out about this, or they'll want to include it in that damn movie. They're ready to go into the editing phase, but they can still shoot footage. Nick doesn't need that, and neither does this farm. And for sure Emmie doesn't need it.”
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