“A new day,” Riley said, rolling up the window. “The temperature is dropping.”
“We have to think about getting some shelter for the horses. Every farm owner in these parts will be hitting the lumber stores as soon as they open. I suggest we call the people you deal with in Texas and have it airlifted here. People were coming in masses as we drove away. I thought I saw Birch and Sage Thornton, so that means they brought people. If we get the lumber, we can have some kind of shelter up by nightfall. What do you say, Riley?”
“I say we go for it. I don’t know the first thing about building a barn, though. My talents run to working on the oil rigs and stretching fencing. Do you know anything about building a barn, Cole?” Riley’s voice rang with anxiety.
“Nope. I think we’re going to learn real fast. It’s payback time.”
“Do you think she’ll make it?”
“I honest to God don’t know. Her skin was . . . was charred. I don’t know how you recover from something like that. I don’t know anything about burns, just the way I don’t know anything about building barns. I hope she’ll be okay. It might take a long time but if she has the best there is, she might stand a fighting chance. Let’s just hope for the best and do what we can at the farm to help out.”
“Okay.”
“She’ll be okay,” Ruby whispered. “I know she will. If I have to, I’ll breathe my life into her. I won’t let her die. I won’t. Do you hear me? I won’t let Nealy die!”
16
“Christmas,” the Reverend Babcock said to his parishioners, “is a time of miracles. Let us all bow our heads in prayer that our rebuilding will continue through this holiday season and into the New Year. Let us give thanks to all those who have come to help us in our hour of need. And let us pray for Nealy Clay’s full recovery.”
Hatch wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nick put his arm around Emmie’s shoulders to comfort her. Gabby sat quietly in Smitty’s lap, sucking her thumb.
There was no finery, no flowers, no candles, no religious statues in the tent Metaxas’s people had erected for the service. There was, however, a makeshift altar. In a matter of hours after the devastation, the tent had gone up, and now served as an office, a mess tent, and a church. Within minutes, the minister would remove his robes and go on to the next farm, where he would pray with another family. The Blue Diamond tent would once again become a command post.
Hatch couldn’t remember a time when he’d been this tired. Just the way everyone else was tired. While the others snatched a few hours’ sleep when they could, he went to the hospital to stand his vigil. When darkness fell, the workers, one by one, would trickle to the front of the hospital with lighted candles.
Others had come, too. The news media, the breeders, the jockeys, the mayor, and the governor to light their candles and to say a prayer. Dagmar Doolittle arrived on the third day and lived out of her car, refusing to leave.
According to the local newspapers, the hospital had to request extra volunteers to handle the flood of mail and flowers, all addressed to Nealy Clay. Perhaps the most poignant, the most visible show of emotion came when the president of the United States and the first lady spoke at a televised news conference, where they both bowed their heads and offered a prayer for Nealy’s full and complete recovery. After the conference, pictures Dagmar Doolittle’s photographer had taken of the president and Nealy appeared on the screen. Following the pictures there were live updates from the hospital administrator, who spoke guardedly of Nealy’s condition. Nealy Diamond Clay was news.
A persistent reporter from one of the tabloids asked pointed questions, the kind the administrator dodged from long years of practice. “Nealy Clay is in critical condition,” was all he would commit to. When the same persistent reporter demanded to know if Nealy was on the brink of death, Dagmar popped him with a wide swing of the string bag she always wore around her neck like a life preserver. Security was called out, and Dagmar made the front page of the paper.
It was midnight when Hatch settled himself on one of the blue sofas in the lobby of the hospital. In just a minute it would be December 26, the day he was supposed to have married Nealy Clay. His shoulders slumped. Dagmar joined him. She patted his arm.
“Aren’t they saying anything, Hatch? Have you spoken to the doctors?”
“Every chance I get. It could go either way. She’s unconscious. She has to be in severe pain. Between Metaxas and me we managed to fly in the best of the best. The burn unit is top-notch. They’re afraid . . . of . . . pneumonia. I’m afraid, too. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her. We were supposed to get married today. We had such grand plans. Wonderful plans. We were going to grow old together.”
Dagmar reached for his hand and squeezed it. “This might be just wishful thinking on my part, but I think she is going to pull out of this. Nealy is a fighter. She has everything in the world to live for, her kids, Gabby, the horses, and you. She loves you with all her heart. You must know that, Hatch.”
“Sometimes it simply isn’t enough. I loved like that once, and I lost my wife and son. I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”
“There’s a chapel here in the hospital. We could go there and perhaps we can find some solace.”
“I’ve always believed in the white man’s God. The missionaries used to come to the reservation and hold Bible classes. I found theology very comforting. I still hold to the old ways in some instances. I don’t ever want to give that up. I am what I am. It’s sad when you think about it. People tend to pray when there is nothing else to do. Why is prayer always a last resort? I just don’t understand, Dagmar. I’ve tried to live a good life. I try to do good. I don’t cheat, I don’t lie, I don’t steal, and I don’t try to put things over on people. I look around at all those people who get away with murder, rape, and child abuse. They walk around free thumbing their noses at the rest of us. Why do children have to die before they have a chance to live? Why does a father have to bury his child? I want answers. I need answers.”
“If I had the answers, I would give them to you, Hatch, but I don’t. Come with me to the chapel. You don’t have to pray. We can just sit there. It’s very peaceful.”
Hatch lumbered to his feet. He looked so whipped, Dagmar wanted to cry for him. “How are things going at the farm?” she asked.
“They managed to raise a barn in one day. The finishing touches will take a while. I think they got the second one up today. There was one barn left standing at the Goldberg place Metaxas bought, but thank God there were no horses in it. The house was destroyed, and three barns. Metaxas was able to take nine of our horses over there. Ruby is taking care of them. I never saw such devastation. The miracle is no one lost any horses. Aside from a few cases of smoke inhalation, and a few minor burns, no one was hurt but Nealy. I don’t understand how that can be.”
“Maybe you aren’t supposed to understand. Maybe none of us is supposed to understand. You aren’t supposed to question God. I used to get cracked on my knuckles when I would ask the nuns questions like that. I think that’s why I don’t go to church much and why I became a reporter. I want answers. Like you, I need answers. I hope I get them before I have to leave next week.”
It was the day before Valentine’s Day when Nealy Clay came out of her drug-induced haze and said her first word. “Aspirin.” The private-duty nurse almost jumped out of her skin. She pressed a button to summon the doctor before she made her way to the bed. “In a minute, Ms. Clay. Tell me, do you know where you are?”
Nealy slipped back to the black void she’d lived in so long. Then she saw light and the pasture. She watched from the edge of her black void as Flyby ran, snorting and tossing his head in search of his owner. “I’m here. Over here, Flyby. Come here, baby.” And he was there, nuzzling her, pushing her ahead and then sideways. She could feel his touch all over. “No, no, that hurts. Be gentle, baby. I don’t have any mints. How could I forget them? I’ll buy more. L
ook, there’s Maud and Jess and Hunt. Oh, they came to see you. You act like a gentleman now. I tell them all the time how wonderful you are when I visit in the cemetery. No, no, that hurts. You would never hurt me. Why are you doing that, Flyby? What’s wrong? Make him stop, Hunt. Maud, isn’t he beautiful? Look, there’s Shufly. I won two Crowns for you, Maud. Come closer so I can see you. Jess, did you come to get me?”
“Nealy, can you hear me? I’m Dr. Clancy. Open your eyes, Nealy.”
“What did you say, Maud? I can’t hear you. People are talking.”
“Talk to me, Nealy. Open your eyes. Nurse, close the blinds halfway.”
Nealy opened her eyes but could barely focus. “Aspirin,” she repeated, coming into the light.
“I’ll give you something for the pain in a minute. Do you know where you are, Nealy?”
“No. Yes. In the pasture. Maybe it’s the paddock. Everyone is there. Aspirin.”
“You’re in the hospital. Do you remember the storm and lightning strikes?”
“No. It was green and beautiful. Very peaceful. Aspirin. Please.”
She was back in the pasture with Flyby, only this time she was on his back, riding faster than the wind. “Oh, that feels so good. The wind is cold today. I thought I was burning up. You always make things better, Flyby. No one but me knows how much I love you. Where did everyone go?” She called out to Maud, to Jess, and to Hunt. From somewhere in the distance she thought she heard a dog bark. Charlie? No, not Charlie. Who? “I have to sleep, Flyby. I can’t ride anymore.”
“She’s out of the black hole. For now. I’ll call the family,” Dr. Clancy said. “In the meantime, nurse, keep talking to her. Each time she opens her eyes she’ll stay awake a few seconds longer. Don’t stop talking. She can hear you. I know she can. Sooner or later she’s going to join the world.”
“And then, Doctor . . . ?”
“Then it’s going to depend on Nealy Clay.”
Smitty took the call in the kitchen, one hand on the coffeepot and the other on the phone. She dropped both and ran as fast as she could toward the new barn. “Nealy’s awake. She talked. The doctor just called. Tell everyone!”
They came from everywhere to ply her with questions. “That’s all Dr. Clancy said. She opened her eyes and asked for aspirin. She’s awake. God, isn’t it wonderful?”
Emmie ran to Smitty and hugged her. Ruby started to cry. Metaxas wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve. Hatch dropped his hammer and ran to his car. The others followed.
Three weeks passed before Nealy was able to join the world. She woke, aware of her pain, and knew instantly where she was and what had happened. She called out, her voice weak and rusty-sounding. “How long have I been here?”
“You were brought in a few days before Christmas. It’s the first week in March. Friday to be exact.”
“Wedding.” Tears burned her eyes.
“Your fiancé has been here every day since you were brought in. Your family, too. One of the nurses in the admitting office kept a record of all the people who stopped by to inquire about you. Tons of flowers came and sacks and sacks of cards. We had to add extra volunteers to help out. We even have a video of the president and the first lady saying a prayer for you at one of his news conferences. Here’s your doctor now, Ms. Clay. He can answer any questions you might have. He might even say you can have visitors.”
Nealy struggled to find her voice. Her tongue was thick in her mouth. She longed for an ice-cold glass of chocolate milk. Her memory returned in little puffs of vapor, or so it seemed. If it was March and the fire was before Christmas, that had to mean she was in serious condition. She struggled with her thoughts and the pain.
“Mirror,” Nealy said.
The doctor’s response was curt and sharp. “NO!”
“Yes.” Nealy could feel her toes curl in anger at the doctor’s strong verbal response. It had to mean something if he wouldn’t give her a mirror. Was her face burned?
“Not now. Later.” Maybe he didn’t have a mirror. Her toes uncurled.
“Home?” The single word was a question.
The doctor shook his head. “Not for a while. Soon, though. Would you like to see your family? They can visit through the glass.”
“Mirror.” Hatch. Hatch could see her through the glass. Emmie and Nick, too.
The doctor shook his head a second time. “No.”
“No visitors,” Nealy said. Her eyes continued to burn. “Drink.”
The nurse spooned ice chips into her mouth. Nealy savored each one. “More.”
“Are you saying you don’t want any visitors?”
“No visitors. Mirror.” She turned her head and felt the bandage on the side of her face scrape the pillow. She moved her head again and again. She wanted to touch her face, her hair, but she couldn’t find her hands. “Hair.”
“Your hair is growing back. The burns on your head have begun to heal,” the doctor said. “The bandages on your face will come off soon.”
Nealy screamed and screamed. And then she was back in her black hole, where it was safe and warm.
The nurse turned away so the doctor wouldn’t see how her eyes filled with tears. She mumbled an apology. The doctor nodded.
The days passed slowly after that, one after the other. Each time Nealy woke, she appeared stronger, more talkative. She’d left her black hole for good and would, according to the doctor, mend. He cautioned the road would be long and painful.
Nealy accepted it all because she had no other choice. She was adamant about not having visitors. She did agree to speak to her family and to Hatch on the phone. Two-minute calls left her exhausted.
It was the beginning of Derby week when the bandages finally came off and Nealy was given a mirror. The scream she wanted to let loose on the world died in her throat. All she could do was stare at the hideous creature she’d turned into. She didn’t cry. She didn’t say anything. Her silence alarmed the team of doctors standing by.
It took every ounce of courage in her body not to black out. She was so dizzy, so frightened at what she’d seen in the mirror that she closed her eyes and shoved the mirror away. “I want to go back to my room.” The head doctor nodded to the nurse.
“Close the door when you leave,” Nealy said quietly, as the nurse settled her in the high hospital bed.
The moment the door closed, Nealy leaned back into the nest of pillows the nurse had created for her. She closed her eyes and longed for the blackness she had slipped into during the past months. How could this have happened to her? How? Just when she’d finally found happiness. Hatch wouldn’t want her now. Gabby would be afraid of her. Emmie and Smitty would look at her with pity in their eyes. Nick would hug her and say it didn’t matter. Ruby would cry for her and Metaxas would wring his hands and call everyone in the world to come and help her. Could she handle all that? No. The horses would accept her. The workers would pretend not to stare. A superstitious lot, eventually they would say she spooked the farm. They’d talk among themselves, to other men working other farms, and she would be the topic of everyone’s gossip.
Under those circumstances, life simply wasn’t worth living.
She didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear the footsteps until she sensed their presence. Instinctively her arms went up to shield her face. “How . . . how did you get in here?” she demanded.
“We just walked in. No one stopped us,” Riley Coleman said. He reached up to take her hand away from her face. To his credit he didn’t blink; nor did Cole Tanner.
She did cry then. “You should have left me to die. Anything would be better than this.”
“No, Nealy, no. Life is always worth living. It’s how you live it that matters. Your family doesn’t understand. Hatch doesn’t understand. They want to come and see you. Give them a chance, Nealy.”
“That’s very easy for you to say. You aren’t the one who . . . who . . . looks like a Halloween monster. I guess I should thank you for all you did.” Bitterness rang in her voice.<
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“Thanks aren’t important to us, Nealy. We came to say good-bye. When you go home, I think you’ll find it looks pretty much the same. All the horses are safe. You have new barns. The farm is running well. We were glad to help. If you ever need us, call. We are family. You taught us a lesson we’ll never forget. What are you going to do, Nealy? Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?”
“I was trying to figure that out when you came in. Today was the first . . . They wouldn’t give me a mirror. I didn’t know . . . I wasn’t prepared . . .” A sob caught in her throat. “I don’t want to live like this. I really don’t.”
“Plastic surgery and a lot of grit and spunk on your part will go a long way, Nealy,” Cole Tanner said. “There is a very special man I know who lives in Thailand. He’s said to be the best plastic surgeon in the world. In the world, Nealy. He specializes in reconstructive surgery and even takes on the most hopeless cases. I’m not saying your case is hopeless, I’m just saying he might be able to help you. It’s possible he won’t be able to. You would have to understand that going in. Do you want me to arrange a consultation for you? I’m sure he would come here. He travels all over the world. I want you to think about it. I’ll leave my card on the night table. Call me any time of the day or night. By the way, the doctor’s name is Sinjin Vinh. You might want to mention it to the doctors here to see what they have to say. Don’t give up, Nealy. Don’t ever give up. My grandmother Billie fought to the last ditch. My mother Maggie and Sawyer said you were just like her. To be like her would be the greatest compliment in the world,” Cole said.
“Thanks . . . thanks for . . . helping me. Emmie told me all you did. We’re even now.”
Riley spun around and walked back to the bed. “No. We’ll never be even. We’ll owe you until the day we die.”
Out in the hall on the way to the elevator, Riley asked, “What was all that shit you were saying back there in the room, Cole? Who is that doctor you were talking about? Jesus God, did you see her face. How can that be fixed? I’ll fucking well kick your ass all the way to Japan if you were just mouthing words.”
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