That Summer (7 page)

My heart sank. He knew about the fight. Had someone else seen Liam and Leslie together that night?

“I…I don't know what you mean,” I said weakly.

“I've been told that Liam and Leslie had a falling out the night before the ball. Do you know anything about that?”

Relief flooded me. He didn't know about the fight I had witnessed. I said, “No. I really wasn't part of that crowd, Chief Murphy. I was only a sophomore and they were seniors. I hung with them sometimes because I'm a friend of Liam's. That's all. I really don't know anything about a fight between Liam and Leslie.”

After a few more questions, the chief left and Mom said to me, “I hope you're not hiding something from the police, honey.”

I gave her a blank look. “What would I be hiding?”

“I don't know, but you kept saying ‘really’ and you usually do that when you're hiding something.”

“I do? I never knew that.”

“Are you hiding something?”

I looked her straight in the eye. “No, Mom. I am not hiding anything.”

Satisfied, she nodded.

Mom had gone inside and I was still sitting on the porch when Liam pulled up in the farm pickup. He got out, followed by a dog, and came up to the porch. I watched him, my heart increasing its beat as it always did whenever I saw him.

One lock of curly black hair fell over his forehead, as usual, and his deep blue eyes were set like gems in his tanned face. He exuded magnetism. He didn't have Kevin's looks (who did?) but even Kevin did not have Liam's sexual force.

“Do you have time to go over the horses with me?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said over the beat of my heart.

He sat down. “I appreciate your helping me out like this, Annie. Having you in charge is as good as having Pete.”

“What a lovely compliment.”

“You have a special way with horses. You always have. I respect that in you.”

In fact, it was the reason Liam had always been so tolerant of my tagging along after him. He thought I was great with horses and that gave me a special place in his heart. It's too bad it wasn't the place I wanted.

We spent almost an hour going over all of the yearlings I had been dealing with, discussing their aptitudes and their progress in training. “The Going West colt is very good,” I said. “He's curious but trusting. He's got personality. You might have something there. “

“He wasn't one of the ones I was thinking of keeping.” Most of the yearlings were sent to the big Keeneland sale in July. Wellington kept only a few to race under its own colors.

“I would. I just have a feeling about him.”

“Okay, I'll think about it.”

We finished discussing the horses and I said, “Would you like something to drink, Liam?”

“I'd love a cup of coffee, if you have it.”

“Come on into the kitchen with me and I'll put a pot on.”

We went through the house to the kitchen, and Liam sat at the maple table while I put the coffee on. Mom was upstairs.

He looked around. “How many hours did I spend in this kitchen when I was a kid?”

“A lot,” I replied.

“I think I spent more time with your parents than I did with my own.” He didn't sound bitter, just matter-of-fact.

“I think you did,” I agreed. “You were the son Daddy never had.”

He sighed. “He was a wonderful man, your father. I learned a lot by watching him—and I don't just mean about horses. I miss him very much.”

I brought the coffee to the table. “We all do.” I set a mug in front of him and one at my own place. Then I sat down. “Have you spoken to the police?” I asked.

“Yes.” He sounded grim. “They think I did it, Annie. It was my bat and Leslie and I had had a falling out. They think I did it.”

“They have no proof of anything,” I said earnestly. “Just be careful of what you say to them.”

He looked into my eyes. “Do you think I did it?”

I looked directly back. “No.”

He laughed a little shakily. “Faithful little Annie. I can always count on you.”

I forced a smile. “I've been seeing Michael Bates. He's on the police force, you know, and from what he says the police don't have enough evidence to indict anyone. So just be careful.”

He stopped in the act of raising his mug to his lips. “Seeing as in dating?”

“We've gone out once.”

He stared at me. “I didn't know that.”

“Sorry I didn't ask for your permission,” I said.

He looked uncomfortable. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to jump all over you. I'm just not used to thinking of you with anyone but me.”

I let that statement sink into my brain as he went on to something else.

Later, when he'd left, I thought about it some more.

Could I possibly get Liam's attention by going out with someone else? I'd never dated anyone when we were young, and when I finally did start to date, I'd been away at school.

I'm not used to thinking of you with anyone but me.

They were the most encouraging words I'd ever heard from him. Perhaps, if I continued to see Michael Bates, Liam would see me with new eyes.

After awhile, I went upstairs to my bedroom to change my clothes. I went into the bathroom to wash my face and stood there staring at myself. Maybe I had to make a few changes to force Liam to see me with new eyes.

First there was my hair. I wore it as I had always worn it, shoulder length so I could easily put it up in a ponytail. It was thick and shiny and brown, with a scintilla of curl.

Maybe I should get it cut. Mom's hair is short and it looks great.

I looked at the rest of my face, taking in my mother's large, brown eyes and my grandmother's nice, straight nose. I was a pretty young woman, and men usually liked me. So what could I do to make Liam look at me as a woman and not as his little sister?

I'll get rid of the ponytail,
I thought.
That'll do for starters. I'll make an appointment at the beauty parlor in town as soon as I get a chance.

I made a note to ask my mother for the name of her hairdresser, then went to the closet to get out my clothes.

The following day, we started getting the young horses ready to wear saddles. We began in a stall, where they felt safe, with someone just half laying across the youngster's back while a helper maintained control with a lead shank. Getting a horse accustomed to weight on its back is trickier than one might think. Nature programmed the horse to fear weight on its back; in earlier times, it would mean that a predator, such as a lion, had leaped down upon it. Every instinct the young horse has goes on alarm when he feels the weight of a person leaning on his back.

For some horses this training is truly traumatic and for others it is easy as pie. You never know what the reaction is going to be until you do it. Some horses let you put a saddle on almost right away, and others make you wait a month.

Daddy's program was always the same, though his timetable was tailored to fit the individual horse. The youngsters went from feeling weight on their back, to a rider getting on them bareback, to a saddle just resting on their back, to a saddle being girthed, to a rider actually getting in the saddle. Once they had experienced all of these things successfully in the stall, they were ready to leave the stable for the track.

I had finished for the day and was walking back toward the house when a Mercedes pulled up beside me and Senator Wellington said, “Can I give you a lift, young lady?”

I said, “I'm dirty. You don't want me in that nice car.”

“Sure I do,” he said and leaned over to open the door. “Come on. You must be tired.”

“I'm never tired,” I said truthfully.

“Ah. How wonderful to be young.”

We chatted casually as he drove along the farm roads, leaving a trail of dust in our wake. When we got to the front of my house, he turned off the engine and said to me, “I'm worried about Liam.”

My heart jumped. “Because they've found Leslie's body?”

“Yes. I don't like the kind of questions Murphy has been asking. And I don't like Liam's hostile way of answering. It makes him seem guilty.”

“You know Liam,” I said. “He always goes on the offensive.”

“Yes, but it isn't smart just now. Will you talk to him, Anne? He won't listen to me.”

“Me?”

“Yes. He values you. If you talk to him, he'll listen.”

“Well, I'll try,” I said doubtfully.

He gave me a warm smile. “Thank you. You've grown into a beautiful young woman—but I suppose everyone tells you that.”

I was a little embarrassed to be receiving such a compliment from Lawrence Wellington. “Th … thank you,” I stuttered.

He reached over and patted my hand. “How charming you are. Don't change, Anne.”

“I'll try not to,” I mumbled.

When he had driven away I climbed up the steps of my house, confused. Had Lawrence Wellington been coming on to me?

No, it couldn't be, I decided. He was just being nice to a girl he had known almost all her life.

I thought that he must be really worried about Liam if he had felt the need to come to me.

The second week in April, the investigation into Leslie's death was pushed off the front page as everyone's thoughts focused on the upcoming Wood Memorial race, which would be held at Aqueduct in New York City on April 14. Someday Soon would be running; it was his last prep race before the Derby, and it would give everyone an idea of how he would perform.

For Liam and the Wellington farm's breeding business, the outcome of the Triple Crown races was vital. If Liam could stand a Kentucky Derby winner (as well as the Derby winner's sire) at the farm, he would be able to cash in on stud fees—at least for the first few years when everyone would be wanting to breed to the hot new stallions. There was usually a lull then, while people waited to see how the stud's offspring did on the track. That was the key. If they did well, then the mares would continue to come. The big money in racing wasn't at the track; it was in the breeding shed.

Liam wasn't going to New York for the race; there was too much happening on the farm for him to leave. He was kind enough to call Daddy and me horse whisperers, but Liam was a whisperer in his own right. He particularly loved his mares. It wasn't smart to get too attached to the young horses; so many of them had to be sold. But the mares stayed and Liam loved them. He was there when they conceived their babies, he was there while they carried their babies and he was there when their babies were born. I remember Daddy teasing him that he was like a surrogate husband.

On April 14, a crowd of us gathered in the family room at Wellington to watch the running of the Wood. CBS had a half-hour show leading up to the race, and most of it was devoted to Bob Baffert's horse, Honor Bright. In a brief interview with John Ford, Someday Soon's trainer, the reporter commented on how much faster Honor Bright had been training than Someday Soon. “We're training for stamina,” Ford replied. “This is a horse that comes from off the pace. We want to see how he'll do in the Wood as a prep for the Derby.”

“How good is the Baffert horse?” I asked Liam as we stood together behind the sofa and watched the TV.

“He's a good horse. Baffert has a big mouth, but he knows his horses. Honor Bright is legit.”

“Do you think Someday Soon can catch him?”

He looked at me. “We'll see very soon, won't we? John's instructions to Miles Santos were not to join Honor Bright in a battle for the lead. He was to ride as he had in the Florida Derby and come from off the pace.”

My mother said, “How I wish Pete could have been here.”

I looked at her. Everything reminded her of Daddy's absence. I was grieving too, but my life had not greatly changed. Mom's had.

Someday Soon was the second favorite, after Honor Bright. We stood tensely watching as the horses were loaded into the starting gate.

“He doesn't have to win,” Liam said. “He just needs to finish well. The Derby is a longer race.”

The announcer said, “Someday Soon is going in quietly.” I watched as the bright royal blue and white of Wellington's silks went into the box.

“Come on, baby,” Liam muttered. “You can do it.”

And they're off!
the announcer said.

Tango With Me, a speed horse, went right to the lead with Honor Bright at his hip. Someday Soon was in the middle of the field, in fifth position, about nine lengths behind. The field held position as they went around the first turn. They galloped along the backside, Someday Soon maintaining his spot off the pace. When they reached the three quarters of a mile mark, the timer said “One-ten,” and on the lead Tango With Me began to falter.

Liam said, “Come on, Buster, come on!” Buster had been the Wellington stable nickname for Someday Soon.

Miles Santos found a spot on the rail and gunned Someday Soon through it. He accelerated.

“Here he comes!” my mother cried.

Someday Soon kept coming, passing horses as he thundered down the track.

I felt Liam grab my hand and squeeze it.

Two tiring horses stood between our boy and Honor Bright on the lead, and Someday Soon rocketed by them as if they were standing still. But Honor Bright was not tiring and when his jockey hit him with the whip, he responded.

“Buster's too late to catch him,” I cried despairingly.

I was right. Even though Someday Soon was making up ground with every stride, the wire came too soon. Buster was still three lengths behind when Honor Bright crossed the finish line.

A great sigh went around the room, as if everyone had let out their collective breath.

“He did very well,” Senator Wellington said. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Liam.”

I felt Liam's hand tighten on mine. He didn't reply.

Mom said, “If it was the Derby, and we had an extra eighth of a mile to run, he would have won.”

“Yes, he would have,” I agreed. “He was closing at the end.”

“That big bay horse had no quit in him, though,” Liam said soberly.

I said, “The good thing about all of this is that Buster will no longer be a favorite and that will be less stressful on everyone.”

“Get the racing channel and we'll find out how the rest of the Derby preps went,” Liam said.