That Summer (16 page)

I felt a pang of guilt. Liam was right. I never seemed to stay home with her.

I'll be here with her tonight,
I thought. I went to kiss her. “How was your day?”

“Okay. What about yours?” She put her bookbag down on a hall chair.

“I watched Thunderhead cover a mare this afternoon.”

She gave me an amused smile. “How nice.”

“And Kevin invited me to a concert at the Kennedy Center tomorrow night. The president is going to be there. I said I'd go. Is that all right with you?”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course it's all right. It's more than all right. It's great.”

“I'm going into Tyson's Corner to look for a dress. It's formal. Do you want to come along and help me pick one out?”

“To be truthful, honey, I'm tired.”

“That's okay. You stay home and rest.”

I wasn't thinking of dresses when I got into Kevin's Jeep. “What's wrong?” he asked. “You look as if you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“I'm worried about Mom,” I said. “She always seems to be tired. I'm afraid she's getting depressed.”

He threw me a quick, azure glance. “She just lost her husband. It would be strange if she wasn't depressed.”

“I suppose that's true. But she always used to be so filled with energy.”

“Your dad's only been dead for a few weeks.”

“I know. Maybe she should try going to one of those bereavement groups.”

“Is there one in Midville?”

“I don't know. I think I'll call the funeral parlor. They should know about things like that.”

“Good idea.”

“Where do you think I should look for a dress?”

“Let's try Neiman Marcus first.”

Shopping with Kevin was an experience. He was recognized everywhere we went. I was sort of used to his good looks, but seeing the dazzled expression in women's eyes as they looked at him reminded me of how spectacular he was.

I told him, “I keep forgetting you're a big Hollywood star; I just treat you like Kevin, the boy I grew up with.”

He smiled at me. “That's why I like being with you. You're comfortable.”

I beamed at him. “Exactly. We're comfortable with each other.”

I tried on dresses in Neiman Marcus and Lord & Taylor and finally settled on one from Nordstrom. It was a bronze taffeta, strapless, with a tight waist and a full, graceful skirt.

“Maybe I should buy a necklace to go with it,” I said.

We went to the jewelry counter and I looked at the costume jewelry to see if I could find something amber. There was nothing that took my fancy.

Kevin said, “You know what, Anne. That diamond pendant you're wearing will be fine.”

I looked down at the single diamond drop that had been a graduation present from my parents. “Do you think it's enough?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fine. No one will be looking at me anyway. Not if I'm with you.”

“Oh, you more than hold up your end, darling.”

“That nice of you to say.”

“How about dinner? Shopping always makes me hungry.”

“I think I'd better get home, if you don't mind Kevin. I've been leaving Mom alone too much, I think.”

“Okay. Home it is.”

We chatted easily during the drive back to Midville and Kevin dropped me off at my house where I went inside to spend a quiet evening with my mother.

CHAPTER 13

T
he concert was a combination of Billy Joel and Elton John and it was terrific. The TV cameras were out in force, and Kevin was photographed from the time he stepped out of his car until we went into the Kennedy Center building.

I was surprised to see that Senator Wellington was there with Mrs. Wellington. We met briefly in the lobby and stopped to exchange greetings. The senator looked at me and said, “You look lovely, Anne. You complement Kevin perfectly.”

There was something in the way he looked at me that made me uncomfortable. I forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Wellington said, “Lawrence is a good judge of female beauty. Of
young
female beauty, that is.”

I had no idea what I should reply to that.

Kevin gave a comfortable laugh. “All the Wellington men are good judges of beauty, Aunt Alyssa. That's why Uncle Lawrence chose you.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we should take our seats.”

We moved apart and as we were shown to our seats I said to Kevin, “Thanks for getting me out of that. He was hitting on me, right in front of his wife!”

“He's incorrigible.” Kevin didn't sound too concerned. “And he has a lot of success with women. He's charming and good looking and he has a ton of money.”

We had excellent seats, toward the front part of the orchestra in the center. After we had been seated I said, “Liam said his father took quite a hit in the stock market.”

“So did everyone else.”

“He told Liam that he wasn't going to put any more money into the horse business.”

“The horse business is Liam's baby, not Uncle Lawrence's. If he needs money he'll pull it out of the horses first.”

“But he could put Liam out of business!”

“That's too bad, but Uncle Lawrence is going to take care of Number One.”

“What kind of a father is that?”

“You know Liam and his father have never been close. I've always gotten along with Uncle Lawrence better than Liam does. He blames his father for Aunt Alyssa's drinking.”

“It can't be good for your self esteem, to be married to an unfaithful man.”

“Probably not. At least he confines his philandering to Washington. He's always been a model husband when he was at Wellington. Aunt Alyssa is able to hold up her head at home.”

“He's never at Wellington for very long.”

Kevin laughed.

I said, “What if he hit on Leslie and she threatened to tell Mrs. Wellington?”

“Don't tell me that you think that the
senator
did it?”

“It's a possibility,” I argued. “She went missing from his party.”

“That's true. But there's nothing that connects Uncle Lawrence to Leslie.”

“That doesn't mean there wasn't anything.”

“I think you're reaching a little bit here,” he said.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“And maybe Liam did it. Leslie slept with me, Anne, and Liam knew it. You know he has a temper. Maybe he picked up that bat and clobbered her with it.”

“He didn't. I know Liam, and he would never do such a thing.”

”‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’,” he said. “But that quote can apply to a man as well as a woman.”

“It could more easily apply to Justin Summers than Liam.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Stop it, Kevin! You know Liam would never do such a thing. Stop trying to get a rise out of me.”

He smiled but his eyes looked cold. “I thought you were trying to exorcise the demon lover,” he said.

It took me a moment to get his meaning. “Oh,” I said. “I am. But that doesn't mean I'm going to think he's a murderer.”

“What about me? Do you think I could be a murderer?”

I devoutly hoped that no one was listening to our conversation. “Don't be ridiculous,” I said.

“I mean it, Anne. Can you picture me killing Leslie?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you.”

“People probably ‘knew’ Jack the Ripper.”

“Not like I know you and Liam.”

He smiled again, and this time his eyes smiled too. “Loyal little Annie.”

“The three of us grew up together. We have to be loyal to each other.”

The theater lights blinked to indicate that the show was about to start and we turned to face the stage.

It started to rain as we drove home, and I dashed into the house from the car, pausing to wave to Kevin before I closed the door behind me. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, put on my pajamas and got into bed. Instead of shutting my eyes, however, I stared at the window, listening to the rain on the roof. The sound took me back to when I was thirteen years old and Liam and I had been stuck in a thunderstorm and had run for cover to the broodmare's barn. We had been fishing and he was carrying a bucket with our catch in it. Mom always cooked the fish we caught for dinner.

Liam put the bucket down and the two of us stood in the doorway as sheets of rain swept over the farm. I shivered.

“Are you cold?”

We had both gotten wet.

“A little. Thunderstorms always make me shiver.”

He turned to me in surprise. “Are you afraid of thunder?”

“I know I shouldn't be,” I confessed. “Daddy explained to me about the electricity in the clouds. But I don't like it. It's too noisy and too … bright.”

At this point a boom of thunder exploded overhead. I jumped. “Come here,” Liam said, holding out an arm. I went to him and he put his arm around me and held me close to his hard boy's body. “Is that better?”

I pressed my cheek against his shoulder. “Yes.”

“I love storms,” he said. “I love the noise and the lightning flashes.”

I looked up at him. He was smiling and his eyes were gleaming.

I said, “That's because you're not afraid of anything.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course,” I said matter-of-factly. “You're brave.”

“Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid of anything.”

“What does it mean then?”

“It means that you
act
like you're not afraid of anything, even if you are.”

The afternoon sky lit up and then the thunder boomed. I pressed closer to Liam and thought about what he had said.

“You mean if I pretended that I wasn't afraid of the thunder and lightning, then I would be brave?”

“Something like that.”

I felt as if I had disappointed him. “I guess you must think I'm a coward.”

“Of course not.” He gave me a lordly look. “Girls don't have to be brave, like boys.”

“Why not?”

“They just don't, that's all.”

I pulled away from him. “I can be brave. I'll show you.”

“Don't be a dope, brat. I don't care if you're afraid of thunder or not.”

“If you were afraid of thunder would you tell me?”

He thought about that. Then he grinned at me. “Probably not.”

“Then, deep inside, you might be as afraid of thunder as I am.”

He frowned. “I'm not afraid of thunder.”

“That's what you say. But you might just be being brave.”

He scowled. “I'm not afraid of thunder.”

“That's what you
say.”

He rolled his eyes. Another flash of brilliant lightning lit the courtyard. Behind us, a horse whinnied. “I'm going to check the horses,” I said and turned to go deeper into the barn, farther away from the storm. Liam stayed in the doorway.

I thought back on this encounter now as I lay in bed listening to the rain. I had always remembered what Liam said—that bravery is pretending not to be afraid when you really are. Knowing this secret, I had watched him over the years and I suddenly realized that Liam was afraid of his father.

On the surface there had never seemed to be anything amiss between father and son. But I knew that Liam had passed judgment on the senator and, in the conflict that existed between the senator and his wife, Liam was his mother's champion.

I suppose she had been a good mother once, but by the time Liam was a teenager, the booze had won out over her motherly instincts. Any mothering Liam had known had come from my mother, just as my father was more a father to him than the senator had ever been.

Liam disliked and blamed his father. But why did I think he feared him?

The senator held all the power. He held the power to wound and scar his wife, and he was the owner of the thoroughbred breeding farm that Liam loved with all his heart. He had the power and he was untrustworthy.

That must be why Liam had started to buy horses on his own; he couldn't trust his father to safeguard the farm.

At least now, if something happened, Liam would not be left with nothing. At the very worst, he would have a Kentucky Derby winner and three broodmares with their foals.
But does he have enough money to buy a farm of his own? If Buster doesn't make it through the Preakness or the Belmont, will he be able to afford a new place?

I didn't think so. If the farm was sold, Liam would be jobless.

I was so accustomed to thinking that the Wellingtons had bottomless wealth that it was strange to realize that Liam might be poor.

He could always syndicate Buster for a lot of money.
That's probably what he'll have to do,
I thought.
He'll have to sell shares in Buster.
If Buster did well in the next two Triple Crown races, he could command a lot of money in syndicate shares. Of course, doing this would limit the amount of money that Liam would be able to make in the future.

The rain had lightened up; I could no longer hear it beating on the roof. I shut my eyes to sleep.

I went riding with Kevin the following morning. We rode down to the old four-arched stone bridge that went over Martin's Creek. The morning was a little chilly and I wore a crewneck sweater over my turtleneck. We dismounted on the bridge and leaned against the rail to look at the creek and the surrounding field below us. The now-peaceful scene had been the site of a battle on June 21, 1863 when Confederate artillery had successfully delayed a Union cavalry advance. Many men and horses had died on the bridge, trying to ford the creek. Today, the grass was green and the creek was hidden in a thicket of trees.

Kevin said, “It's been handy, knowing how to ride. I used it in two of my pictures.”

“Remember that picture of you in hunt clothes that appeared in
People?”

“I remember it very well. In fact, I have it framed and hanging in my house.”

“It was neat. Rob Roy looked particularly nice.”

He said dryly, “Most people weren't looking at the horse.”

“I always look at the horse. That's why I'm a horse vet.”

He grinned at me. The sun gleamed on his uncovered hair and his eyes were as blue as the sky. “How does a guy get to first base with you, Anne?”

“Liking horses is a good start.”

“Tell me about this man you almost married.”

“I didn't almost marry him. I almost became engaged to him.”