19
Joshua Coleman was laid to rest on the third Saturday of May, just as the three-year-olds bolted from the starting gates at Pimlico. There were those who said it was an omen. Others said it was nothing more than a coincidence. Horse people, superstitious to the core, held to their belief and watched as Sharpshooter, Josh Coleman's colt, ran the distance to move into the winner's circle at the Preakness. Those same people whispered and speculated among themselves, saying old Josh was spurring the horse on from on high. The family said nothing, their faces and manner somber as they walked away from the cemetery. There was no joy in the win, no sadness at the burial.
It simply was.
The good-byes were subdued and quick. There were handshakes all around, promises to stay in touch, and then they were gone. Only Ruby and Metaxas Parish lagged behind.
“Is there anything we can do, boys, before we head on out? I know this isn't the time, then again, maybe it is, to congratulate you on your win at the Preakness. Ruby and I are both sorry your father wasn't here to see it.”
Pyne jerked at the tie around his neck. When it wouldn't loosen, he stretched his neck and ripped at the tie. He threw it across the kitchen. “He wasn't our father,” he said in a strangled voice.
Ruby looked at her husband in disbelief before she sat down on the kitchen chair. “Maybe you better explain that. Then again, if you feel it isn't our business, don't tell us.”
“Well we have to tell somebody, so it might as well be you. Nealy liked you a lot, so I guess you're the logical choice for us to spill our guts. I'll give you the short version, and you can figure out the rest. Rhy, get out the bourbon.”
When the bourbon bottle was empty, Pyne pushed his chair away from the table. “Nealy took the folder with her. The really weird part of it all is she wasn't angry. Relieved and sad, but not angry. Hell, when she first got here she was like some wild, raging bull. She stomped, she snorted, and she raged. She didn't spare that old man one thing. I don't know if she was right or if she was wrong. All I know is when she took her kids and left, all I had to show for it was a penny in my hand. Emmie said it had been to heaven and back, and maybe I needed it. I don't know what the hell that means. All of this,” he said, waving his arms about, “supposedly reverts to the Texas Colemans. I don't know how that can be, but there was a paper in that folder that said that's the way it was supposed to be. They don't know it yet. Rhy and I want to talk to Nealy before we tell them. We didn't know Pa . . . Josh Coleman left a will until the lawyer told us that last morning when Nealy was here. He won't read it or tell us what's in it until Nealy comes back, and Nealy is never coming back here.
“Nealy isn't just Nealy, our sister. She's Cornelia Diamond, the richest woman in the state of Kentucky. She won the Triple Crown. She bred the horse, trained it, and rode it to three wins. Dancer's Flyby colts go for millions a pop. SunStar had two of those colts. Our own stud fees from their offspring are in the millions, too. Pa never paid Nealy for the horses. Plain and simple, he stiffed her. She retaliated but not right away. She gave him every chance and then some, and when he didn't pay, she slapped a lien on this farm and as near as we can figure, she charged twenty percent interest, so there has to be an outstanding debt of close to forty million dollars, maybe more. Then all the stud fees from those two colts come into question. When she's done collecting, there won't be anything left for the Texas Colemans. When she first came here, she said all she wanted was her daughter's share. That was a whole messy story, and I already gave you the gist of it.”
“And you don't approve of any of this, is that what you're saying?” Ruby asked. “I understand your sister. The minute I laid eyes on her I knew she was special. I knew we would become friends. The first thing she said to me was, what can I do for you? I traveled the same road your sister did. I went through the same things she did, so I know where she's coming from. I want to go to Kentucky, Metaxas.”
“If that's what you want, sweet baby, then that's what we'll do.” Metaxas smiled at his wife.
“Our sister is a hothead,” Rhy said.
“She can't be that much of a hothead if she managed to get where she is today,” Metaxas said quietly. “She sounds like a pretty amazing woman to me. About that will. Why don't you, your brother, and your attorney go to Kentucky to read it. I can fly you there if you like. You need to settle things so you know where you stand. I'm no lawyer, but I do know things have to go to probate. I think you might have a problem with your accounts. When there are liens on a property, accounts can get frozen. You might not even be able to pay your workers. You need to put the legal wheels in motion.”
Pyne stared at his brother. “You're the oldest, you make the decision.”
“We can't all go. One of Pa's rules was one of us had to be here at all times.”
“He's not here anymore, Rhy. You're the oldest. Now it's your turn to make the decision. What's the worst thing that could happen? You have a vet on the premises; your employees know their jobs. I'll fly you there in the morning and you'll be home in time to put the horses to bed. Why don't you think about it and call us at the hotel. We'll stay over and do a little sightseeing. My baby here likes to see new things,” he said, tousling Ruby's wild mane of hair.
“I liked your sister. She has grit. I could tell that right off. She's a good mother, too. I saw and felt that the moment I laid eyes on her. I was like that when I was her age, wasn't I, Metaxas?”
“That you were, honey. Hell, you're still like that. We're staying at the Lansdowne since it's only forty-five minutes from Washington and Ruby wanted to see the Vietnam Memorial. If you decide to take me up on my offer, I can be ready to leave by seven. We can see ourselves out. Talk it over and give us a call one way or the other.”
Pyne nodded. Rhy, stubborn to the end, muttered something that sounded like, “Yeah, okay.”
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Nick walked up behind Smitty, and whispered, “What's she doing?”
“She's just sitting out there with a cup of coffee and smoking cigarettes. She's having a bad time with all this. She knows she has to do something, but she doesn't know quite what that something is. The burial is today, and so is the Preakness. Your grandfather . . . whatever he was, has a horse running and is favored to win. Your uncles have a horse . . . you know what I mean, Nick. I think if both events were televised, your mother would opt for the Preakness.”
“Maybe you should go out there and talk to her, Smitty.”
“Maybe I shouldn't. I know when not to cross the line. That's the reason your mother and I get on so well. It works both ways. It's only been five weeks, Nick. She has a lifetime of reconciling to do. My advice is to leave her alone.”
“Yeah, I guess you're right. Do you think she's rooting for Sharpshooter to win?”
“You bet she is. She's rooting for the horse, not the owners. Be sure you have that clear in your mind.”
“I gotta get back to the barn. If you need me, call, okay?”
“You bet.”
“You can come out now, Smitty,” Nealy called over her shoulder.
“You know what I really like about this place these days is it runs itself. I didn't think that would ever happen, but it did. Beautiful day. I thought you were going to plant some flowers this morning, Nealy.”
“I am. I was just sitting here thinking. What kind of person am I that I didn't go to
his
funeral? I've been asking myself questions since the day I got back here. I'm beginning to think Hunt was right about me. I have no heart. Somewhere along the way it eroded. I'm not a nice person. I can be mean and obnoxious. I'm arrogant and opinionated. It's my way or the highway. My God, how did I ever get to be like this? Maud and Jess must be spinning in their graves at how I turned out. How can you stand to be around me? For whatever it's worth, I sent Felicity St. John a note of apology for my bad attitude. I told you about her.”
“Nealy, don't be so hard on yourself. You did what you had to do to survive. In time it got you to this place. You have your answers now. It doesn't matter where you've been, baby, what matters is where you're going and how you get there. The past is gone. Don't try to go there. Tomorrow morning it's going to be a whole new ball game, as Nick says. Try thinking of it as the first day of your new life.”
“Hunt . . .”
“It wasn't meant to be, Nealy. Hunt's gone. You're still here. You're rich, you're beautiful, you have two wonderful children. And you have me. What more could you possibly want?”
“Peace. Inner tranquillity. A purpose. Love. I'm forty-eight years old, Smitty, and I've never been in love in the true sense of the word. I want to experience that feeling. I want to feel some man's arms around me and know he cares more about me than he does himself. I want to fall asleep next to him and wake up before he does so I can just look at him and know he's what makes me whole. I want someone to care about me when I don't feel well. I want someone to hold my hand when we walk through the garden and I want him to pick me a flower and say I'm prettier than it is. I want to run barefoot in the rain with him. I want to do wild crazy things that only lovers do. There's a part of my heart, Smitty, that no one has ever touched. I want it to bust wide open so I can
feel.
I want to dream and sing and be happy. Is that so much to ask? Do you think I should advertise for someone like that in the
Lexington Herald-Leader?”
“I don't think I would do that if I were you. Of course it isn't asking too much. It does, however, bring a question to mind. If you never leave here, if you hang out in the barns day and night, how do you propose to meet the man of your dreams? I get it, you're waiting for him to ride up here to the porch on his handsome steed, kind of like the way Jess did that day when he met Maud for the first time.”
Nealy laughed. “Hunt rode up in the dark. For a while I thought he was the one. I never should have married him. I was too selfish back then. He wasn't selfish enough. Like you said, that's all in the past. How'd you get so smart, Smitty?”
“By hanging around you. I think it's time for you to join the social scene. You could set this whole state on its ear. Yeah, you, Nealy Diamond Clay. Why don't we organize a ball and give it some fancy name. Like, the Derby Ball, the Triple Crown Ball, something like that. We could charge outrageous amounts and donate all the money to some worthy charity. That's another thing, Nealy, you have all this money, and you don't donate or give anything away. You need to start doing that. It's called giving back. You could do all kinds of things like summer camps for kids where they can learn to ride, swim, play tennis, you could give out scholarships, you could do something for animal rights. Endowments. The list is endless.”
“So you're saying I'm selfish
and
greedy.”
“Pretty much,” Smitty laughed.
Nealy stared at Smitty as though she had sprouted a second head. “You are absolutely right. Let's do it! But not till tomorrow. I need this last day to wallow. My God, where in the hell have I been all these years?”
“In a barn,” Smitty snapped.
“Right again,” Nealy giggled.
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Nealy watched the sun creep over the horizon from her bedroom window. It was a treat to stand at a window and revel in the beautiful colors of early morning. Dawn. A new day. A new beginning. This day, whatever it would bring, would be of her choosing. Decisions or lack of decisions would either affect her life or not affect it. If she chose to stay by the window all day long, nothing in her life would change.
A new beginning. That meant she had to make decisions. She had to go through the accordion-pleated envelope and scrutinize each piece of paper, every single document, and then she had to act on her findings. She also had to make arrangements to have her mother's remains buried alongside Maud and Jess.
I wish I had known her for just one day. Just one single day. I'd give everything I hold dear to experience my mother's smile, my mother's touch, my mother's kiss. Did she smell like vanilla and homemade bread? Were her hands rough and callused? Did she smile? Did she sing when she did the laundry? Did she make pancakes on Sunday morning and big chocolate cakes for Sunday dinner?
She would never know. Never, ever. When she herself was dead and gone, what would Emmie and Nick remember about her? Maybe it was better not to know things like that.
Nealy walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. The gray in her hair was showing again. She made a mental note to look into having it frosted. She grimaced when she thought of Felicity St. John. She never wanted to look like the shellacked receptionist.
A new day. That meant it was time to shower and go downstairs for breakfast. She was hungry enough to start chewing on the doorknob.
She put on a daffodil yellow sundress that showed off her spring tan along with matching sandals that felt funny on her feet after all the years of wearing sturdy boots. She was halfway down the steps when she stopped. If she planned to go riding later on, she was going to have to change her clothes. “Damn,” she muttered.