Kentucky Rich (6 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Rich
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She headed for the paddock where Danny Clay, the stud groom, would soon lead Private Dancer to his stall. If she hurried, she could have the stall ready for the stallion by the time Danny got there. All it took was new straw, a shaking of hay, fresh water, and a measure of grain mixture that Jess had concocted for this special stallion. With little grass at this time of year for grazing, Jess had left orders for extra feed for Private Dancer, who was on active stud duty. It was her job to make sure the horse was given preferential treatment, which wasn't hard to do since she'd developed a rapport with the huge animal. She longed to mount him just to see if he'd let her on his back, but she knew she would never take the chance unless Jess or Maud said it was okay to do so.
Nealy worked in earnest, breaking into a sweat as she forked hay into the stall. She tossed her jacket over the railing and never gave it another thought. She finished just as Danny led the snorting stallion down the middle of the barn to his stall. Nealy stood quietly to the side, waiting to see if the big stallion would pay attention to her. He snorted, reared back, and came down prancing and pawing the concrete. He tossed his head to the side, jerking free of Danny's hold, trotted over to the stall, picked up Nealy's jacket, and backed up until he was abreast of her. His big head bobbed up and down, his signal that she should take the jacket. She did. She slipped it on. “You're just an old softie, Dancer,” she whispered. “How'd you know it was mine, huh? Did it smell like me?” While she talked her hands were busy rubbing and stroking the big animal. “C'mon, now, show me you appreciate this. A little love and devotion go a long way. We both know that.” The stallion's body quivered as he used his big head to nuzzle Nealy's neck, making her laugh in delight. “Look what I have for you!” Nealy held out an apple from her pocket. Dancer nodded before he lowered his head to take the apple from the palm of her hand.
“I don't know how you do it, Miss Nealy. That horse won't take anything from me or Wylie. The truth is, this animal hates Wylie, and Wylie is afraid of him. Maybe Dancer senses his fear. He's gentle as a lamb right now. He lets me handle him, but he won't cozy up to me the way he does you.”
“I'm a girl, Danny. He knows the difference. You have to talk softly, and your hands have to be gentle. Why am I telling you this, you already know it?”
“I do, but it doesn't work for me. And Dancer is my favorite. This big guy is so highly valued as a sire he's made the leading sires list for his progeny over three hundred times. One of his foals, Lead Dance, was undefeated. His next foal goes to SunStar Farms in Virginia. I heard they're going to be paying some big dollars for the foal.”
“I'd like to talk to you more, Danny, but I have other stalls to get ready,” Nealy said, her body going all jittery at what the groom had just said. “You're sure about his foal going to SunStar Farms?”
“Yep.”
“Do they come to pick up the foal, or does Miss Maud transport it to Virginia?”
“It's one of those either/ors if you know what I mean. SunStar does a lot of business with Miss Maud. Can't say I much care for the man, but he's good with the horses. Runs a respectable breeding farm. Has two sons if I recall rightly. Met them once or twice. The old man is the boss; those boys of his never say a word. You best get a move on, Miss Nealy. Starbright is heading this way, and right behind him is Perfect Pa.”
“Yes sir, right away, Danny.”
Nealy worked tirelessly until she heard the bell at the end of the barn chime the hour. Time to head up to the house to wash up and sit down for her lessons. Emmie would be home soon. She looked forward to story hour, with milk and cookies. Nealy sighed. One day the lessons would be behind her, and so would the office routine. Now that she was eighteen, she would be of age in three years. The day she turned twenty-one, she would no longer have to fear her father. But would she still live in fear that Emmie's father would somehow find them and reach out for her? As unlikely as that was, she still couldn't rid herself of the fear. When, she wondered, would she ever feel safe?
She thought about her brothers then. What were they doing? Did they ever think of her? Were they better off without her? Surely they must miss her a little. Now that she was out of their lives they would have to take up the slack and work harder and put in longer hours. Or did they feel getting rid of her was worth getting their reputations back? Probably so.
Nealy's shoulders slumped.
Everything happens for a reason,
she told herself as she headed for the bathroom to wash up.
5
Nealy tiptoed down the steps, feeling her way in the early-morning darkness. In the kitchen she reached for her jacket, opened the door quietly, and slipped out. This was her favorite time of day—right before the sun rose. She wrapped her arms about her chest to ward off the November cold as she walked out to the road, the same road she'd stumbled onto one rainy day five years earlier. God had been watching over her and Emmie that day. A day she would never forget as long as she lived. She threw her arms into the air and whispered, “Thank You, thank You!”
Perched on the split-rail fence, she strained to see in the darkness. She wanted to burn it all into her memory so she would never, ever, forget it. Not that she would. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she could see everything. She knew every rock, every pebble, every blade of grass on Blue Diamond Farms. She knew each one of the eighty-seven employees by name, knew their families, knew about their secrets, their hopes, and their plans. They were her family now, a family she loved and cherished. The horses were part of her life, too. God, how she loved those magnificent creatures. She closed her eyes, trying to calculate the number of nights she'd spent in the barns, sleeping on straw and covering herself with horse blankets when there was a problem with one of the Thoroughbreds. Those were treasured times because the horses trusted her, recognized her voice and her touch.
Life was wonderful.
Years ago she'd accepted the fact that her daughter, normal in every other way, was never going to speak. What was it the specialist said? “There is no medical reason that we can find as to why your daughter doesn't speak.” He'd used words like
trauma, fear, anxiety,
and a few others that made no sense to her at the time. Emmie was seven now, and so beautiful Nealy often felt tears burn her eyes when she looked at her. They all had learned sign language, Maud, Jess, her, and some of the workers at the barns. There were times she swore even the horses understood the little girl's flying fingers.
The moment the sun started to creep over the horizon, Nealy jumped off the fence and headed back toward the house.
Today was her birthday, a time when she always reflected on her young life. Maud and Jess would be waiting in the kitchen for her. How kind, how astute they were. If they didn't know, then they sensed she needed these early minutes to herself out by the road. They never mentioned it, never said anything other than, happy birthday, Nealy. Later on there would be a big dinner, a cake with candles, presents, and so much love and affection she would get dizzy absorbing it all. She was loved. Her daughter was loved. What more could she possibly want or wish for? Absolutely nothing, she answered herself.
From the back porch, Nealy could see the fireplace blazing. The kitchen would be warm and toasty. That had to mean Carmela the housekeeper was up and preparing breakfast. Emmie would be getting ready for the special school she attended; Maud and Jess would be sitting at the table waiting for her. Carmela would be frying bacon, brewing coffee, and stirring batter for blueberry pancakes.
Nealy opened the door to silence. She sniffed. Where was the coffee, the sizzling bacon? Where were the others? She looked down at her watch and frowned. Where was Carmela? She called her name, knocked on the housekeeper's door. When there was no response she cracked the door and called out a second time. She opened the door wider, saw the unmade bed, but there was no sign of the housekeeper. She closed the door just as she heard a car screech to a stop in the driveway alongside the back porch. She ran to the door, her heart hammering in her chest.
“Dr. Parker! What's wrong? Why are you here?”
“It's Maud, Nealy. Jess called me. Where is she?”
Speechless with fear, Nealy could only point to the second floor. The doctor took the kitchen stairs, two at a time, Nealy galloping behind him.
Emmie ran to Nealy, her eyes full of questions. “I don't know what's wrong, honey. I was outside, and when I came in there was no one in the kitchen. Do you know where Carmela is?” Emmie pointed to Maud's room. “Listen to me, Emmie. I want you to go downstairs and make some coffee. You know how to do that. Make some toast and wait for me. I'm sure Miss Maud just has a bad cold or maybe a bad bellyache. Do what I say, and I'll be right down. It's going to be all right.” She waited until Emmie was at the bottom of the stairs before she ran to Maud's room.
She saw the huge sleigh bed, the colorful quilt, and the woman lying propped up against a mound of pillows. Nealy Diamond's eyes burned at the sight of Maud. Surely this caricature of the adoptive mother she loved with all her heart wasn't Maud Diamond. Her face was pulled to the side, her right eye closed, the lid drooping way past her bottom eyelashes. The right side of her body was hiked up as though she'd tried to curl into the fetal position, the left side almost as rigid. Drool oozed from the corner of her mouth. A sob caught in Nealy's throat as she made her way to the side of the bed. The doctor gently pushed her away. She found herself standing in the doorway next to Carmela. She heard a sob, and knew it wasn't her own. Jess. She heard the word
hospital,
heard Jess's vehement negative response.
“What happened, Carmela? Is Miss Maud going to die?”
“I don't know, Nealy. Mr. Jess came and got me right after you left the kitchen. I didn't see you leave, but I heard you. I'd just built up the fire when he came rattling down the steps. It's a stroke. People live after a stroke, Nealy. Sometimes they don't, but sometimes they do.”
“She can't die, Carmela. She just can't. Jess won't know what to do without her. I won't know what to do. Emmie . . . Emmie won't . . . understand. The farm, the horses, everything will fall apart without Miss Maud. She's the glue that keeps us all together. I should do something. I need to do something. Tell me what to do, Carmela.”
“You keep going, Nealy. You can't fold up. Jess is going to need you, and so is Emmie. You have to be strong. You do what Maud would do. Tell me what to make for breakfast. Then you have your work; Emmie has to go to school. You need to write down what you want me to make for supper. You have to go down to the barns and tell the others. You have a lot of things you have to do.”
“Those are just things. I meant I want to do something for Miss Maud.” Nealy reached out and grabbed Carmela's shoulders. She stared deep into her eyes. “Tell me she isn't going to die, Carmela. Tell me. She said she won't die till she gets another Derby winner. She told me and Emmie many times she can't go to meet her pa in heaven unless she has a third Derby winner in her hand. Say it, Carmela! Damn you, say it!”
The old housekeeper straightened her apron, her usual rosy cheeks pasty white. She tried to straighten her plump body as she stared Nealy down. “I can't tell you that, Nealy. Now, tell me what to make for breakfast.”
Nealy stared at the woman, who was almost as old as Maud. Her face was lined and creased the way Maud's was. She wore wire-rimmed spectacles, whereas Maud preferred to squint or use a magnifying glass, saying eyeglasses were ugly. Where Maud's hair was thinning, Carmela's was thick and curly, fashioned into a long braid that hung down her back almost to her waist. Her hands slammed down on her plump hips. “I need you to tell me what to make for breakfast, Nealy.”
“Pancakes.”
“Fine. I can make pancakes. How many?”
“How many? Fifty. Sixty. That's a good round number. Lots of coffee,” Nealy said, rubbing her temples.
“Who's going to eat sixty pancakes?” Carmela demanded, but Nealy was already halfway up the kitchen stairs to the second floor. “The barn dogs and cats, that's who,” she mumbled.
Nealy found herself standing outside Maud's room. Everything was suddenly different now. Even the sunshine was gone. An omen? She wished she knew more about death and the dying process. She wanted to cry so bad she pinched her arms to stop the tears. Jess didn't need to see her cry. She was supposed to be strong. She wondered if Maud could hear or understand whatever it was the doctor was saying to Jess. It didn't look like Maud had moved even an inch. Jess looked different, too. Right now, right this minute, he looked
old.
He also looked brittle, like he was going to crack wide open. He turned, saw her, and motioned her to enter the room.
Nealy advanced, tears rolling down her cheeks. She stepped into his arms and howled her misery. He didn't try to stop her. Instead, he stroked her hair and let his own tears roll down his weathered cheeks. “We talked about something like this maybe happening someday. Maud said she didn't want to go to a hospital. I agreed. Dr. Parker is going to send us some nurses who will take care of Maud around the clock.”
“I can do that, Jess. I want to do it.”
“I know you do, child; but you have Emmie, and the farm still has to run. You can't do everything. Maud wouldn't want that. She'd want you to do what you do best, work with the horses.”
“How can I do that, Jess, when my heart is here with Miss Maud? Tell me how.”
“I can't tell you how, child. You have to find your way yourself. I'm going to have to make some decisions, too. We'll talk later. For now I'm going to stay here with Maud until the nurse gets here. Dr. Parker says she isn't in any pain. I'm going to hold on to that. See Emmie to the school bus and get on with your chores.”
“But . . .”
“There are no buts, Nealy. This is the way it has to be. Get on the loudspeaker in the barn and tell everyone Maud has had a stroke. Tell them . . . tell them I'll let them know when she can have visitors. Now, git to it, girl.” He hugged her tight to take the sting out of his words.
 
 
It was nine o'clock before Nealy tucked a tearful Emmie into bed. Exhausted with all the crying she'd done, Emmie slipped into sleep almost immediately but not before she tucked her velvet bag under the pillow.
Nealy sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, trying not to cry. Everyone was acting as if Maud was dead, while in fact she was alive and breathing. She couldn't die. She just couldn't. Nealy offered up a prayer, kissed her daughter good night, and walked down the hall to Maud's room. She could see into the dimly lit room, where the nurse, in her starched, white uniform, sat reading. She'd always thought of Maud's room as a pretty room, with the overlarge sleigh bed that had once been her father's. Crisp organdy curtains hung from the diamond-shaped windows. There were no blinds or shades on any of the windows at Blue Diamond Farms. Maud wanted it that way. She said she liked light, not half-light. Privacy was something she never thought of. Besides, she'd said, who can see way up here to the second floor? Two wing chairs stood against the far wall. The blue one was for Jess and the burgundy one was Maud's. Both had matching footstools, and both were situated so Maud and Jess could watch television late at night if they wanted. A few lush green plants stood in the corners, just to fill up the space, Maud said. Other than a dresser that was almost bare and two night tables, there was nothing else in the room.
When Nealy had first arrived, there were no pictures on Maud's bedroom walls, but there were pictures now. One of her wedding to Jess, the rest of Emmie at different stages. Emmie sitting in her pony cart, Emmie at the wedding, Emmie with her first short haircut, Emmie and Molly, Emmie in a bathing suit running under the sprinkler and, the best of all, Emmie riding Wind Dancer, her very own pony. There was one picture that Maud said she treasured above all else, a picture of her with Emmie in her arms, sleeping together in the wicker rocker on the front porch.
It was a nice picture,
Nealy thought.
Probably because we all felt safe and peaceful.
Maud had always understood that.
“How . . . how is she?” Nealy whispered to the nurse.
“The same. She's sleeping. You look very tired, honey. Why don't you turn in? If there's any change at all, I'll call you.”
“Can I kiss her good night?”
“I don't see why not.”
Nealy walked hesitantly over to the bed. There were so many things she wanted to say, but her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and the words wouldn't come. She tried not to cry, but tears pooled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She reached for Maud's hand and covered it with both of hers. She was stunned at how cold it felt. She wanted to crawl into the big bed the way she did with Emmie and hold her close to warm her clear through. She leaned over and kissed the old lady's dry cheek. She looked up when she felt Maud's eyelashes touch her cheek. “You're awake! I came in to say good night. I don't know if you can hear me. Can you, Miss Maud?”
When there was no response, Nealy moved to the foot of the bed where Maud could see her better. Her hands and fingers moved furiously.
Blink if you can understand what I just said, Miss Maud.
A smile ripped across Nealy's face when the old lady blinked. Nealy's fingers spoke a second time.
Do you want to see Jess?
Blink.
I'll fetch him.
Nealy raced down the steps and into the living room, where Jess sat staring at the fire. “Come quick, Jess. Miss Maud wants to see you. I signed for her and told her to blink if she understood. She did. I asked her if she wanted to see you. She blinked. Hurry, Jess, before she falls asleep again.”

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