Kentucky Sunrise (24 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Sunrise
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Nealy pinched herself. No, she wasn't dreaming. She was wide-awake. She watched the spot she'd just pinched turn black-and-blue. Bruises didn't turn black-and-blue till later. Maybe it was a trick of light.
“Hatch!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
 
 
On Nealy's orders, the funeral was small and private, with only the immediate family and the farm-workers. Both brothers were laid to rest next to their mother in the SunStar cemetery. Thanks to Josh Clymen's foresight, by nightfall, blankets of bluebells would cover both graves.
Nealy stood dry-eyed next to her husband and wondered why she couldn't cry. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nick dab at the corners of his eyes with his knuckles while Emmie sniffled outright. She cringed when she heard her daughter blow her nose.
And then it was over. Those who had been ahead of her in life were all gone now. Logically speaking, she was next. The thought frightened her.
They were almost to the house when a shiny black car pulled to a stop in front of the house. A small dapper man with sweat beading on his brow got out of the car, mopping at his face with one hand, his other hand holding what looked like a very heavy briefcase. “Ma'am, I'm Connely Brian, your brothers' attorney. I know you live in Kentucky, so I thought I would come right out in case you were planning on leaving after the service. We can do the reading of the will now or sometime later on. It's simple, and will take no more than ten minutes.”
Nealy nodded and walked into the house. She led the way to the dining room and sat down. “I'm surprised my brothers made a will. Look, I know it's coming to me, so skip that part and read the bequests.”
The dapper attorney frowned as he dug into his thick briefcase. He continued to frown as he smoothed out the crackly papers. He cleared his throat before he took one last look at Nealy.
“Both wills read exactly the same, so it doesn't matter which brother died first. As I said, aside from the usual bequests of twenty-thousand dollars to their foreman, the manager, and a few lesser bequests to some of the older employees, that's pretty much it. The farm, all the horses, and everything owned by both brothers goes to Emmie Coleman and her daughter Gabby Coleman. There's a note here written by both Rhy and Pyne that says the reason for this particular bequest is that they both wanted Emmie to return to the place where she was born. Your brothers gave me an envelope and instructed me to hand it to Emmie after the reading of the will.” He handed it across the table. Emmie reached for it with shaking hands. Inside was a penny. She ran crying from the room, the envelope clutched to her breast.
“When did my brothers make this will, Mr. Brian?” Nealy asked in a cold, brittle voice.
“Almost two years ago. A few months before Emmie got sick, I believe. A little time passed before they came in to sign the wills. I recall they were talking about her and her illness. The date is on the will. Is there something wrong, ma'am?”
“My daughter doesn't want this place. She gave it back once, and she'll do it again. It should have come to me.”
“Are you questioning my integrity, madam?” Brian bristled.
“No. I'm just saying the farm was to go to me. I'm saying I don't understand.”
“Well, I can't help you there. As for Emmie not wanting the farm, that's for her to say and dispose of whichever way she sees fit. This will now go to probate. I'll be in touch soon. Good-bye. I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”
Nealy sat in the dining room chair and stared at the table. Hatch nudged her elbow. She ignored him. She didn't raise her eyes until Emmie came back into the room. She looked from her mother to her brother.
Nealy finally broke the silence. “Is it your intention to take up residence here at SunStar, Emmie?”
“I don't know. I think it might be a good place to bring Hifly after the race. I like it here. I can see myself raising Thoroughbreds with Dad's help.”
“So he does get one of my horses after all,” Nealy snapped. “I told you, that's what this is all about. You're such a fool, Emmie. Will you please wake up before it's too late?”
Nick stood up, his face angry and contorted. “That was uncalled for, Mom. What is it with you? Your brothers just died, and you're fighting over their farm. It's obscene.”
“Let's go, Nick,” Emmie said, tugging at his arm.
And then it was just Nealy and Hatch.
“The farm should have come to me. My mother is buried here. How could they do that to me? My own brothers. Damn them. I fought tooth and nail to make sure they got to keep this place, and this is the thanks I get. Damn them.” She banged on the table with both fists to make her point.
“There's nothing you can do about it, Nealy. A will is a will. Don't even think about contesting it. Everything here will run smoothly. Mr. Clymen said he would take care of things until he heard otherwise. It's time for us to go home.”
“This was my home for a long time. As hard as I try not to think about this place, I still do. It's so strange. Okay, I'm ready to go back to . . . to . . . Blue Diamond Farms, Hatch.”
P
ART
III
12
Nealy moved cautiously in the bed so as not to wake Hatch. If she'd gotten five minutes of sleep, it was a lot. She was so wide-awake she felt like her eyeballs were standing at attention. She looked over at Hatch, who was sleeping peacefully. She used to sleep like that. After a hard day's work, a good dinner, and a warm bath, she'd always slept like a baby. She couldn't recall when she'd last slept well. Probably sometime before the fire that had destroyed all the barns and left her scarred for life.
Satisfied that Hatch wouldn't wake, she crept from the bed and slipped into her robe and slippers. She headed for the kitchen and the coffeepot. While the coffee dripped, she munched on a granola bar.
The clock on the Capriccio coffeemaker said it was 3:47, almost time for the farm to come to life. When it came right down to it, that's when she came to life, too. Not so of late. She couldn't help but wonder why her life was going through such drastic changes. Was it because she was getting older, and it was the natural course of events? Or, was it something else? If it was something else, how did one go about finding out what that something was?
Nealy poured coffee into her cup and carried it out to the front porch. She was glad she had put on her cozy, warm robe. At best, it was probably fifty degrees. She sat down on the old rocker and tucked her legs under her. Above, the stars twinkled in the dark sky. Soon, though, it would be dawn.
The headlights were bright, round yellow orbs. Emmie reporting for work? Something tugged at her heart. In the time it took for her heart to beat twice, she knew what she was feeling. Jealousy. Of her daughter. She shook her head to clear away the horrible thought, but it wouldn't go away. Jealousy.
Hatch had hinted at it but had never actually come out and said the ugly word.
You were so busy trying to prove you could take care of me you forgot to love me along the way. Nick feels the same way l do.
Impossible. She did love her children. She did.
Did you ever tell your children you loved them?
a niggling voice inquired.
Of course. I'm sure I did. Maybe not in so many words, but they should have known I loved them. I do.
Did you ever say, I love you, Emmie, or I love you, Nick?
the niggling voice persisted.
I can't pick a time or a place but I'm sure I did. Of course I did.
When? Under what circumstances? When they were babies and didn't know what you were saying? When they were little and brought home good papers from school? When they were teenagers? When Emmie got married? Give me a time, a date, a place when those words passed your lips.
Right now I can't think of a specific time. I know I did, though.
How do you know?
I know because when they would tell me they loved me, I would have said the same thing back to them. So there.
No. No. You always said, I know you do. You never said the words. Not to them. They never heard you tell them you loved them.
No, that's not true. I know I said the words. I just can't remember when I said them. I was a good mother. I love my children. Every mother loves her children.
That's a lie. The only person you actually love is yourself, Nealy Coleman Diamond Clay Littletree. After loving yourself, you love the horses. Then maybe your children and your husband after that. You aren't capable of showing love. You fake it real well, but it isn't real. I know you, Nealy. I'm your conscience, so I know what's real and what isn't. You're going to end up a bitter, lonely old woman. Hatch won't put up with this bullshit forever. He wants a family because he knows how to love and he knows what a family is all about.
Nealy leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes . . .
On her way through the kitchen to the back staircase that led to the second floor, Nealy stopped when she heard her name mentioned. Thinking either Maud or Jess had called her, she walked across the kitchen to the small hallway leading into the dining room. Maud and Jess never used the dining room. The rare exceptions were Thanksgiving and Christmas. From time to time, if Maud had what she called monster paperwork, she would spread all her papers out, spit on the end of her pencil, bend her head, and do her paperwork, something she absolutely detested. Jess hated it even more, so they both let it pile up till they couldn't see each other across the table, at which point they would then do what they had to do.
She was about to call out when she heard her name mentioned again. They were talking about her, they weren't calling her. She leaned against the wall in the skinny hallway and listened.
“I love that girl, Jess, I really do. Since Nealy came here with Emmie, everything has changed. I've never seen a girl work so hard in my life and she's a little slip of a thing. She puts some of the men to shame. She never complains. Never. I think she's gotten real fond of both of us, but you'd never know it by the way she acts. It's like she's afraid to show what she feels. I'm thinking wherever she came from, affection wasn't the order of the day.”
“I think you're right, Maud. The little one is different. She loves to be hugged and smooched, and she gives it right back. She's starved for love. I hate saying that, but it's a pure fact. You know it, too, Maud.”
“I do, Jess, and it worries me. That little girl has enough to bear without thinking her mama doesn't love her. I'm sure Nealy does love her, but for some reason she's afraid to show it. She's good to her, that's for sure. She makes sure she eats well, gives the child her bath, makes sure her clothes are clean and pressed. You know what, Jess, it has to be hard talking to a child with your fingers all the time. She's never short-tempered with her, just weary and tired.”
“What's going to happen to that child when she grows to womanhood, Maud?” Jess asked. “The outside world isn't kind to people with disabilities. Do you think after we're gone, Nealy will want her here to keep her safe from that outside world, or will she send her to one of those special schools? One of those places where you live there on the premises and only come home for holidays and such.”
“I think she'll keep Emmie here, Jess. I don't think she would send her away. Nealy feels safe here. If she feels safe, her daughter is safe, too. She never wants to go to town, to a movie or to the Chinese restaurant. If she wants something, she just marks it on the chalkboard and counts out her money to pay for it. I think we both understand that she ran away from a bad situation and is afraid she'll be found. She's happy here, Jess. We're happier than we've ever been ourselves since they got here.”
“Then I say we add Emmie's name to the will. Half to Nealy and the other half to Emmie. That way we'll be sure the child is taken care of and kept safe. We'll add a clause to the will that says Emmie is to live here until she reaches her maturity.”
“I'm glad you said that, Jess. That's the way we'll do it. No need to tell Nealy. She might fuss up a bit.”
“You're sure then that she loves the little tyke?” Jess said.
“Damn it, Jess, no, I'm not sure. I'm hoping she does. Just because she doesn't go around saying, ‘I love you, I love you,' doesn't mean she doesn't. Nealy isn't all that verbal about her feelings. Sometimes she can be downright cold. Then there's the guilt attached to the little one. I don't know if that will ever go away. Add on the fact that she can't talk. Double guilt.
“What we'll do from here on in, Jess, is this. We will shower that little girl with love and affection. We'll tell her a hundred times a day how much we love her because we do, and it will come easy to both of us. We'll make sure she's taken care of for the rest of her life. Nealy will be okay because she's tough and resilient. I feel better now, Jess. Isn't it time for some
tea?”
Maud's version of tea was a triple shot of Wild Turkey bourbon with an ounce of Lipton tea
.
Nealy scurried across the kitchen and fled up the carpeted stairway to the second floor, where she collapsed on a stuffed ottoman next to a little table in the hallway. Her breathing was hard and ragged. Her face felt so hot, she thought she was going to burst into flames any second.
They loved Emmie more than they loved her. They appreciated how hard she worked, but they worried about her loving Emmie. They were going to make sure that Emmie was always kept safe from the wicked outside world. They loved her more. Well, she was never going to think about
that
again. Never, ever . . .
. . . Nealy woke with a start. She knuckled her eyes. She must have cried in her sleep. She looked around, aware that it would be light soon. Another new day. Maud always said a new day was whatever you made of it. You could waste it, or you could use it. She always used her days to the fullest, most times to the exclusion of all else that was personal.
Now she had to think about
that.
In the kitchen she refilled her coffee cup and poured a cup for Hatch that she carried upstairs. “Brought you some coffee, honey!”
“Great. What brings you up here? Whoa, you're still wearing your robe. Is today a holiday or something?”
“I couldn't sleep so I went downstairs, made some coffee and sat on the porch, where I fell asleep. I just woke up. You know what, no one is missing me. Everything seems to be working. Oops, I spoke too quick. The phone's ringing. I'll get it. I'd kiss you good morning, but I don't want to get shaving cream all over my face.”
“Hello, this is Nealy.”
“I'd like to speak to Hatch please. This is Cal.”
“It's for you, Hatch. He said his name is Cal.”
Hatch wiped his face, rinsed his razor, and reached for the phone all at the same time.
“What's up, Cal?”
“Mr. Zack Leroy applied for a passport yesterday and booked an overseas flight to Singapore. They're rushing his passport through. This is a man who has never been out of the state of Nevada, and, as near as I can figure, the farthest he's ever gone is Reno. He made arrangements to take his dog, too. Bought him a seat and everything. First class. Said he was legally blind, had the papers to prove it, and said he needed the dog with him at all times. He conveniently forgot to mention his cataract operation. It's one way of avoiding the cargo hold for the dog and I, for one, would
never
ship my dog in cargo even on a short flight. I'm thinking Miz Willow Bishop got hold of him and arranged this trip. What do you want me to do, Hatch?”
“When does he leave?”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
Hatch's brain raced. “This is what I want you to do. Call Spence Wakley. Tell him I want him on the same flight as Mr. Leroy. I can't go since he might recognize me. There's every chance he might remember seeing you around, too, since you've been shadowing him. Then book two tickets on the next flight for you and me. Tell Spence not to lose Leroy. Make arrangements for us to meet up when we get there. I'll fly to Vegas this afternoon, hook up with you this evening at some point. I'll alert the authorities and, who knows, maybe they'll deputize me.”
“You know, Hatch, there's a rumor here in town that someone is passing out free money. All good, worthy causes. Bundles of money to churches, the homeless shelters, hospitals, all kinds of places. The animal shelter out in the desert said they got a couple of million dollars. I just thought I'd mention it. The
really
funny thing is, all those lucky recipients were visited by Zack Leroy. He went to the animal shelter and donated fifty dollars. He wrote out a check. He sure goes to church a lot. One church after the other. All the churches he visited got money for additions, new roofs, new furnaces, and money to help their poor parishioners. Those soup kitchens . . . they're serving steak and roast beef, turkey, shrimp, and lobster. Mr. Leroy donated ten-dollar checks to each one he visited. My mind is always working three steps ahead of everyone else. I'm not saying it means anything. Maybe yes, maybe no. It sure is strange, though. I'll call Spence and get right on those tickets. See you tonight. You're staying at Babylon, right?”
“Yeah. I'll meet you at some point in the Harem Bar.”
Hatch turned to Nealy when he hung up the phone. “I'm going to Singapore. I think we have a real hot lead on Willow Bishop. You don't mind, do you, Nealy?”
“No. It's okay. Is this
ever
going to be over?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is my client skipped out on me not once but twice. That doesn't look good for any lawyer no matter how good he is. She's as wily as a fox. I feel sorry for that old guy if he aided and abetted her. Why do people always think they're above the law?”
“Isn't it human nature to think you're smarter than the other guy?” Nealy asked. “I hope you find her and bring her back so Nick can lay it all to rest. If she's out there, living the good life, she'll always be in his thoughts. It will never end for him. He needs closure. Either she did it or she didn't. A court will decide that.”

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