Kentucky Heat

by Fern Michaels

  “How . . .”

  Medusa smiled as she picked up the beer bottle. “Shunpus is waiting for you in his office. Come along.”

  His brain felt fuzzy as he staggered after Medusa to Hatch’s office, where he sat down in a deep comfortable chair. The big man stared at him with sad eyes as he waited for Nick to speak, the contents of the folder spread out in front of him.

  Nick struggled to clear his throat. “That . . . those papers . . . I think . . . they were just an excuse to come here. Right now I feel like my world has been turned inside out. I wanted to come here many times when things piled up on me. I know I could have called, but it isn’t the same. Mom . . . Mom doesn’t . . . she won’t ask for help. Dad was different in that respect. When I think back I don’t know if I was a good son to him or not. I was torn between the two of them. Don’t get me wrong here, Dad loved the farm and the horses. My mother loved them more, loves them more. They consumed her. They still do. In trying to please both of them I shortchanged all three of us.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about the past, the present, and what the future holds,” he continued. “It all came to a head when I got back home yesterday morning. After the disbelief, I got pissed. Royally pissed. I was looking for something, anything to, you know, fight back. And there it was,” he said, pointing to the papers in front of Hatch. “I realized something else on the plane coming here. I want a life. A real life. I have a wife, and I want kids someday. I love the farm, the horses. Why do I have to make a choice? Dad did that. What did it get him? Unhappiness and an early death. While I was sitting in his offices, I must have dozed off, and I had this dream about him. It was weird. It felt real. Like he was right there. I even thought I smelled his aftershave. Do you think I’m losing my mind, Hatch?”

  “No.” Hatch smiled. “I go in there from time to time and, like you, end up dozing off and dreaming about him, too. He was a hell of a friend. The kind you never forget.”

  Nick fidgeted in his chair. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

  Hatch shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to kick your uncles’ asses off their farm? I can do that in a heartbeat. All your sister has to do is sign the papers. This other stuff, your mother’s suits and countersuits, that’s a different ball game. I can tell you right now, nothing good is going to come of that. When family starts attacking family, it’s all over. No one wins.”

  Nick nodded. He jerked his head sideways. “It felt good in there.”

  Hatch grinned. “Did it now?”

  “Yeah. Dad said the chair fit me better than it ever fit him. What do you suppose he meant?”

  “What do you think it meant?”

  “That maybe I belong here. That maybe if I’m good enough, I could sit in that chair for real.”

  “Well hot damn, boy, that’s a real good assumption. It would take a hell of a lot of commitment for someone to take on a challenge like that. Hard work, no sleep, eating on the fly, nose to the grindstone seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I don’t know too many people who would commit to something like that. I know some people who could help you if you’re one of those dedicated people. Are you?”

  Am I? Nick closed his eyes before heaving a mighty sigh. “Yeah, I am.” He felt good. The words sounded just right to his ears.

  “What about your new wife, your sister, and, of course, your mother and the farm? And what do you want me to do with all of this?” Hatch asked as he rustled the papers on his desk.

  Funny, he thought. “I . . . I don’t know. I thought I did, but now I don’t.” He gave Hatch a sheepish smile. “Dad always used to say when you don’t know what to do about something, do nothing.” He sat back in his chair, his emotions churning. “I have thirty-eight credits. I took night classes over my mother’s objections. Then it got to be too much, and I couldn’t continue. What do you suggest?”

  Hatch rubbed his hands together, his face gleeful. “Open the door, Nick.” His voice boomed through the building. “Emergency meeting!”

  Nick looked around at the angry-sounding tinkling bells. “We have a twenty-five-thousand-dollar communication system so there is no need to bellow like a wild bull, Shunpus,” Medusa chastised, as her tiny hands clapped shut over her equally tiny ears.

  “Got your attention, didn’t it? Take a seat, gentlemen. This is Nick Clay, Hunt’s son. I know you know that, I just want to start off right,” Hatch boomed. “This boy has decided he wants to finish up his undergraduate education and go on to law school so he can sit in his father’s chair. I say we make this happen. Between the three of us we can whittle his time down to almost nothing. We’ll get him accepted, registered, office school him twenty-four hours a day. As of Monday morning of next week, the three of us shut down. The associates can take over. Nick is our top priority. What’ya say, guys? Let’s get on the stick and start making some calls. Call in every favor that’s owed us. If we have to endow, we endow. Whatever it takes to get the okay to do this. Medusa, find him a place to live. He’s not going to be there much, but he needs an address. You okay with this, kid?”

  Nick’s tongue felt twice its normal size. All he could do was nod.

  “Does it feel right?” Bode Jessup asked, clapping him on the back.

  Nick nodded a second time.

  Hank Mitchum pumped his hand up and down. “Jesus, I can’t believe we’re finally going to get a real Clay in the office. Good move, Nick. Your dad would be real proud of you.”

  “Then let’s get to it, people. Medusa, call the car service and have them pick up Nick. Call the airport and have our pilot file a flight plan. Nick, he’ll wait till you have all your ducks lined up and fly you and your wife back. Now, get the hell out of here so we can get to work. Oh, bring all your transcripts with you. Have a good flight.”

  He was dismissed. His eyes bugging from his head, he allowed Medusa to lead him from the office. “They can do this? They can actually . . . you know . . . teach me, help me. Law professors will actually come here and do it all one-on-one? That boggles the mind.”

  “You sweet, darling boy, of course they can do it. The word endowment is a very powerful word to law schools. It is Shunpus’s favorite word when he wants something. For some reason, it always works. More important, they want to do this for you. You will have to work very hard, for they will not let up on you. When they said twenty-four hours a day, they meant twenty-four hours a day.”

  “But the firm. The billable hours . . . They’ll lose a lot of money.”

  The little bells tinkled, a cheerful sound this time. “Yes, millions and millions. It makes no mind, for they would have given most of it away anyway. Shunpus is guided by the Mountain Spirits.”

  “Mountain Spirits?” Nick looked back toward his father’s office. “Are you serious?”

  “Nah. It’s a crock, but we like to pull out the Indian stuff every now and then to get people riled.” The tiny bells tinkled again. To Nick’s ears it sounded like an entire symphony.

  An alarm button went off in Nick’s head the moment he opened the door to Emmie’s house. It was too quiet. Too still. He shouted to Willow and his sister. When there was no response he bounded up the stairs to the second floor. He poked his head into the room he’d chosen for Willow and himself. Other than his backpack and suitcase, there was nothing else to see. The bed was made, but there was no sign of Willow or her luggage. He saw the note then, propped up on the dresser. His hands shook so badly he could hardly get the single sheet of paper out of the envelope.

  My Dearest Nick,

  I am so sorry, Nick. I went to see your mother even though you told me not to go. She was very cold, very angry. She said many things, most of them ugly and hurtful. I can’t be the cause of a rift between you and your mother, so I’m going away. I hope the two of you can patch up your differences. I will always love you. I want you to know that. If you love me, don’t try to find me. It can never work for us. Take care of yourself and try to b
e happy. All my love forever.

  Willow

  Nick sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked up as Emmie came into the room.

  “She left right after you did, Nick. She said she was going to ride around for a while to clear her head. I didn’t dream she’d go to see Mom. I fell into a deep sleep and didn’t hear her when she got back. Either she called a taxi or a car service. She took all her pots and pans. No, no, that’s not what she did. She must have taken a taxi out to the farm and then took her truck. That’s why she went out there. I guess she figured as long as she was picking up her truck, why not talk to Mom. She left me a note, but it just thanked me and told me to convince you not to look for her. I’m so sorry, Nick. I really am. What are we going to do now?”

  “Jesus, Emmie, I don’t know. I am going out to the farm, though. You can come with me if you promise not to cry and carry on.” In a choked voice brimming with emotion, he told her about his visit with Hatch and the outcome. His hands folded and unfolded the letter from his wife as he talked.

  “Nick, that’s wonderful. I always thought you’d make a good lawyer. I think that’s what Hunt wanted for you. Willow doesn’t want you to look for her, Nick.”

  “Willow would have loved Santa Fe,” he said, trying to absorb the news of his wife’s leaving. He wrapped his arms around his middle. “I feel like someone just ripped out my guts. Emmie, I love her so much. She made all this . . . this life we’ve led more bearable. I wanted to give her the moon and the stars all wrapped up with a big silver bow. She didn’t want that. She liked to go for walks and hold my hand. She’s just a plain, simple girl who was dumb enough to fall in love with me. Where will she go; what will she do?”

  “She’ll be fine, Nick. Willow is a fantastic chef. She can get a job anywhere. She didn’t say anything about a divorce, so there is hope she’ll change her mind at some point. I have to tell you something, Nick. I’m pregnant. Before you can ask, Buddy doesn’t know. I wasn’t sure when we went on the cruise. Then when I passed the third month and knew for sure, I decided to tell him after the cruise but . . . I don’t want him to know. You’re the only one I’ve told. I don’t know what to do, Nick.”

  “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to go with me to New Mexico. You’ll stay with me if you’re okay with that. I don’t think either one of us should be alone right now. Family has to stick together. But, Emmie, you should try to talk to Mom before you make that decision. She fired you, but she told me to pack my bags and get out. I see negotiating room there for you if you want it.”

  “You already sound like a lawyer, Nick. I’ll go out and say good-bye, but that’s it. I’m really sorry about Willow. I truly liked her. She was good for you.”

  “Sometimes things aren’t meant to be. We had two great weeks. Some people don’t even get that. I’ll do what she wants for now, but I’m not giving up on her. I love her, she’s my wife.”

  “I can make you some bacon and eggs, Nick. I’m too tired to go out for something to eat. Tomorrow is another day, and you look awful. Let’s eat and call it a night. All our problems will be here in the morning. You didn’t say anything about the baby, Nick.”

  “Sometimes wonderful things come out of chaos. A baby is a wondrous thing. I get to be an uncle. I’ll be a good one, Emmie. I swear I will. A baby needs a father figure. I think you’re going to make a wonderful mother. I have a feeling we’re both stepping into a new and wonderful life. Hatch told me about his wife and son and the accident that killed them both. Bode and his wife Brie have twin girls. Hank isn’t married. The proverbial bachelor. I think Brie will take you under her wing. It’s a good thing, Emmie. Let’s eat so we can go to bed.”

  “You aren’t going to sleep, and you know it. We have to decide what to do about SunStar Farms.”

  “For now, don’t do anything, Emmie. Neither one of us is in the right frame of mind to make any kind of important decision that pertains to other people. For ourselves, yes, but not for the uncles. That was Mom’s doing anyway.”

  “You sound like you hate her, Nick,” Emmie said, slapping bacon into the frying pan.

  “There’s a fine line between love and hate. I love her, but I don’t like her right now.” His voice was anxious when he said, “Is that how you feel, too?”

  Emmie’s head bobbed up and down. Tears dripped down her cheeks.

  Emmie waited until she knew Nick was busy with other things before she went out to her SUV. She climbed in and started the engine. She drove off with no destination in mind. Her mind whirled and twirled as she drove along. Eventually she ended up at the entrance of Blue Diamond Farms. She parked along the side of the road and stared at the place she’d called home for most of her life. She looked up at the bronze sculpture of Flyby that graced the entrance. Flyby, her mother’s beloved horse, the horse Nealy had ridden to victory in the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont to make her a Triple Crown winner. If Emmie lived to be a hundred, she didn’t think she would ever see a more magnificent horse.

  She made a tent out of the palm of her hand to stare across the Blue Diamond spread. It was so breathtaking with its miles of white board fencing, fencing she’d helped paint every year of her life. The little hills and valleys of the dark blue-green grass stretched for miles and miles. When she was little her mother had shown her how to take a blade of grass and put it between both thumbs and whistle. Her mother had always laughed and laughed when she was able to do it.

  Emmie sat down on the rich, velvety grass that was like a soft carpet and hugged her knees. She needed to feast her eyes on what she considered the most beautiful place on earth.

  By squinting and shielding her eyes, she could see the old fieldstone house with the glorious front porch where she’d played as a child. She remembered her mother rocking her on Maud’s old rocker and telling her stories about a mermaid named Emmie. She narrowed her eyes even more and was able to see her bedroom window on the second floor.

  It was a pretty room, with a bedspread full of tulips. Even the drapes had tulips on them. Tulips were her mother’s favorite flower. Hers, too. Once she’d made her mother a picture with a square basket full of the colorful blooms. She was seven that year. Her mother framed it and hung it in her bedroom. She’d been so proud that day.

  “I’m going to miss this place,” she murmured, her voice cracking. She would miss driving here each morning, working with the horses, talking with her mother and Smitty, her mother’s friend and office manager.

  Emmie plucked at the grass until she had a handful. She lowered her head to sniff the fragrance. It was sweet and pungent.

  She stared into the distance, remembering when she’d left after marrying Buddy and moving into her own house. She’d tried to make it a home, but she knew now she’d been unsuccessful. Her heart was at Blue Diamond Farms, not in a house off a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.

  Some things were just not meant to be.

  A second later, she was running to the SUV, where she pulled out a Tupperware container from the cargo hold. She ran back to the spot where she’d been sitting. She used the small pocketknife attached to her key ring to cut out a square patch of grass. She scooped out a handful of dirt and dropped it into the container. She set the grass plug on top of it. If she watered it every day, would it thrive or would it die? She didn’t know.

  She ran over to the board fencing, dropped to her knees, and sliced a wedge of wood from the bottom rail. Just a small piece that wouldn’t be missed. She added it to the container. She held it like the rare jewel it was and carried it back to the SUV. She climbed in and positioned it between her legs so the dirt wouldn’t spill out.

  She backed up the truck, stared up at the sculpture of Flyby, and waved. “I’ll be back someday. I don’t know when, but I’ll be back.”

  She drove off in a storm of tears.

  A lump the size of a golf ball settled in Nick’s throat as he brought Emmie’s truck to a full stop by the back steps that led
to the porch. “Are you coming in or are you going to sit here in the truck?”

  “I’ll sit here and wait till you pack your things. We can walk down to the barn together. Strength in numbers, that kind of thing.”

  “Fifteen minutes at the most. I’m not taking everything, just what I need. I’ll tell Smitty to throw the rest of the stuff out.”

  Nick was as good as his word. Thirteen minutes later he shoved two suitcases into the back of the SUV. He poked his head into the passenger-side window. “We don’t have to go down to the barn. We can write a note and leave it on the kitchen table.”

  “I’m not that gutless, Nick. Let’s go.” There was no point in telling her half brother she’d already been to the farm. Besides, it was a private thing between her and the farm. She wanted to keep it that way.

  Nealy had seen the truck and watched from the barn window. What would they say? More importantly, what would she say? And where was Willow? She felt jittery, out of sorts. He looks so much like his father, she thought. She knew then, in that instant, that her children were not there to apologize.

  “Mom, we came to say good-bye.”

  Nealy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She finally managed to get her tongue to work when she saw they were turning around to leave. “Where are you going?”

  “Are you asking because you care, or are you asking because it’s the right thing to say so you can tell yourself later you did care enough to ask? Don’t answer, Mom. I’ll save you the trouble and tell you. We’re going to Santa Fe. I’m going to college and law school. Dad’s old friends are going to help me. It’s what Dad wanted for me. I’m sorry I listened to you. Willow left me. Is that funny, Mom? Because of you my wife left me. Just so you know, I’ll never forgive you for that. Emmie’s pregnant. Isn’t that funny, too, Mom? You can just have yourself a real good laugh now. By the way, we both want to apologize to you for fucking up and thinking we deserved a life of our own, not one created from your mold. You have yourself a good life now, you hear?”