That Summer

by Joan Wolf

  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 o
n 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.

  Someone clicked the remote and the station came up. Eventually we got reports from all of the tracks where three-year-olds had run that day. The favorite, Mileaminute, trained by D Wayne Lukas of California, had won the Bluegrass, and in the Arkansas Derby another frontrunner had won. It had not been a good day for come-from-behinders.

  “That's okay,” Liam said when we turned the TV off. “The California trainers won today; we'll see who wins in the big race.”

  “Who owns Mileaminute?” my mother asked.

  “Prince Salman of Arabia.”

  “Are there any Coolmore horses entered in the Derby?” I named the single, most powerful force in the racing industry today, the Irish stud run by John Magnier.

  “I'm sure they'll have an entry that they're training in Ireland.”

  Mom said, “Well, our horse is being trained in Kentucky and I hope he wins.”

  Liam laughed.

  We stayed around talking for a while then Liam said, “Who wants to go out to eat? Dinner's on me. I think Buster distinguished himself.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kevin said. “How about it, Anne? Can you come?”

  “It depends on my mother,” I said. I had no intention of letting her go back to the house alone.

  “Come on, Nancy,” Liam said. “We'd love to have you.”

  At first Mom demurred, but then she gave way. Liam called around for a reservation and the four of us all ended up going to the Horse Shoe Inn for dinner.

  The Horse Shoe was not one of the premier restaurants in town. It was a steak and fish place, with a salad bar. Mom and I ordered shrimp and the men ordered steaks. As we sat eating our salads Kevin said, “I hear you went out with Michael Bates, Anne.”

  My mouth dropped open. “How did you hear that?”

  “The old Midville grapevine. He's a cop now, isn't he?”

  “Yes. How do you know Michael, Kevin? He wasn't part of Leslie's crowd all those years ago.”

  “I know about him because you went out with him,” Kevin returned. “I've been keeping my eye on you, Anne.”

  His response startled me and I gave him a look.

  “How can someone who looks like you be so unassuming?” Kevin asked with amusement.

  I said, “I thought going out with Michael would be a good way to find out about how the investigation is going.”

  “My God. The poor man. He probably has no idea that you had an ulterior motive.”

  He was making me sound underhanded. “I like Michael, “ I said. “He's funny.”

  Liam said, “Did you have another date with him?”

  He was frowning. This made me very happy. “Why not?“ I asked breezily. “He's nice and he's handsome and he asked me.”

  Mom said, “You don't want to hurt him, Anne.”

  I didn't want to do that at all. I had hurt John, the man I had almost been engaged to, and it had not been a pleasant experience.

  “All I did was go to a movie with the guy,” I protested. “I'm not going to marry him.”

  “Well I should hope not,” Liam said.

  “I almost did get married once, or at least I almost got engaged,” I said to him.

  He said peremptorily, “When was this?”

  “A year ago.”

  His brows furrowed.

  I said deliberately, “I'm twenty-six, Liam. I'm not a child anymore.”

  Kevin said, “So did your boyfriend tell you anything about the investigation?”

  “He's not my boyfriend …” I began in annoyance. I looked at Liam. “At least not yet,” I amended.

  “Do you know he's divorced?” Liam asked me.

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “You're Catholic. You can't marry a divorced man.”

  “For God's sake, “ I said. “I went out with the man twice and Kevin says he's my boyfriend and Liam thinks I want to marry him. Are they crazy or what, Mom?”

  “I think they're a little ahead of themselves,” she replied with a smile.

  “They certainly are.”

  “My question still remains,” Kevin said. “Did you find out anything new?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing that isn't already common knowledge. Leslie was hit with the baseball bat. Apparently the attack took place in the summerhouse and the body was transported to the Stanley woods and buried.”

  “And I'm the police's favorite candidate for being the murderer,” Liam said bitterly.

  “You always were,” I pointed out. “But they don't have any more evidence now than they had ten years ago. Michael said they didn't have enough to make an arrest.”

  Liam said intensely, “Well I wish they would find out who did it. I don't relish people thinking I was the one and that I got away with it.”

  Kevin put down his empty glass. “You avoided each other at the party. That's what I told the police.”

  Liam said, “I never spoke to Leslie that night, and I most certainly didn't club her over the head with a baseball bat. “

  An alarm bell rang in my brain. I looked at Liam. He seemed perfectly sober, perfectly truthful. Yet he had just told a lie.

  Of course he's lying, I thought defensively. He'd have to be crazy to come out and say he and Leslie had an argument just before she disappeared. The police would be all over him.

  I said, “Andy is really pushing the police. If he wasn't such a high-profile person, I don't think they would have reopened the case.”

  “Andy thinks I did it.” Liam's voice became even more bitter than before. “He acts like I'm unclean. I feel sorry for him and all that, but it isn't fair to me. “

  My mother said, “To lose a child is a terrible thing. To lose an only child is even worse. And to lose her the way the Bartholomews lost Leslie is unspeakable.”

  We were all quiet after that. Then dessert was served and we all got into Liam's BMW and went home.

  CHAPTER 6

  At two in the morning, Liam called me at the house. “Pennyroyal is having problems, Annie. Can you come?“

  “I'll be right over,” I said.

  I put on my jeans, pulled a warm Virginia Tech sweatshirt over my head and ran out the door.

  The light over the foaling stall was on in the mare's barn when I arrived and found Liam and Jacko in the stall with a groaning, heaving Pennyroyal.

  “The baby is t
wisted,” Liam told me. He looked very pale in the stable light. “One foot is coming out but not the other.”

  The correct way for a foal to be born was to come out with both front feet first, then the head which was tucked between the front legs, then the rest of the body. One of Pennyroyal's foal's legs was out of position and caught in the birth canal. It would have to be straightened out for her to be able to push out the baby.

  Pennyroyal was lying in the straw with one of her foal's forelegs poking out of her vagina. “Do you have gloves?“ I asked Liam.

  Silently, he handed me a pair of long latex gloves. I knelt beside Pennyroyal and reached in around the foal, feeling for the other leg.

  You have to be strong to turn a foal in the birth canal, which was one of the reasons I worked out with weights. Finally I managed to get the baby righted and the second leg came out of the mare. I reached in, hoping to find the nose between its legs. It was there.

  “I think we're out of the woods,” I said. “Now it's up to her.”

  The rest of the birth was a textbook delivery. About ten minutes later, the foal was almost completely out of its mother's womb and a few minutes after that, the baby slid out onto the bed of straw. She was dark bay in color, with a star on her forehead and two white anklets on her hind legs.

  “A filly,” Liam said with pleasure. He toweled the foal dry of the birthing fluid, to keep her from getting cold in the night air, then placed her in the straw next to her mother so that Pennyroyal could finish the job with her tongue. The licking would encourage the filly to stand.

  Usually foals stand for the first time between a half hour and an hour after birth. Pennyroyal continued to lick her baby's haunches and the foal made an effort to get her thin spindly legs under her and stand up. It took a few tries, but she eventually got to her feet.

  There are few things more awesome than the way these newborn babies get to their feet in such a short time. Human babies don't walk until almost a year after birth, but foals stand, and nurse, and within a few days Pennyroyal's daughter would be running at her side out in the sunny pasture with the other babies and their mothers.

  We left the mother and baby in peace to continue their bonding. “Like a cup of coffee or tea?“ Liam asked me as we walked out the barn door.