That Summer

by Joan Wolf

  I said what I could to cheer him up, but I wasn't sure it helped. I wished desperately that this whole business of Mrs. Wellington and the medal would just be over. It was like Chinese water torture for Liam to have it carrying on like this, drip by drip by drip.

  Ten days after I returned to Maryland, Doug finally hired a vet to take my place in the practice. Since he could start right away, I was free to return to Virginia. I called Liam and my mother with the good news, called my landlord to cancel the lease on my condo, packed a suitcase and headed south.

  I arrived on a hot summer afternoon. The dogs were all stretched out in the shade of the porch, sleeping. They opened their eyes when I arrived, wagged their tails, then closed their eyes again.

  “Hello to you too,” I said.

  I carried my suitcase into the house, which was empty. Then I went upstairs to Liam's room and plunked my suitcase on the bed. The air conditioning was on in the house and it was cool inside. I went back downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water, then I went to look for Liam.

  I found him with the yearlings. The Keeneland sale would be in a week or so and this time of year the farm's focus was on the yearlings.

  “Annie!” He grinned when he saw me and held out his arms. He looked wonderful, I thought. He had a baseball cap on over his black hair, he was tanned from being out in the sun, and his knit shirt and jeans clung to his long, fit body. I hugged him, taking in the scent of sweat and sun and horse that clung to him, and was dizzy with happiness.

  “Home for good?” he said.

  “Home for good,” I answered.

  “Nice to see you, Anne,” Jacko said.

  “Nice to see you too, Jacko,” I replied.

  We looked at the yearlings, all of whom looked splendid, then Liam said, “Come and have a peek at Buster.”

  We got into my car and drove out to the stallions’ paddocks, and there he was, the Triple Crown Champion, turned out in his own black oak-fenced paddock, his chestnut coat bright under the summer sky.

  Liam whistled to him and his head lifted and his ears perked up. He looked at us for a long minute, then he went back to grazing.

  “He looks great,” I said.

  “John doesn't want him to get too fat, so I have to be careful with the grass. But he does look good.”

  “He needs a break, mentally and physically.”

  “I think so too.”

  We stood for perhaps fifteen minutes, just watching our boy enjoy himself. Then we got into the car and went back to the house.

  The next morning I went into town to see my mother. She wasn't home so I parked in front of her house and walked up to the main street to pick up some candy. I was standing in front of the confectioner's shop when I ran into Michael Bates. He was wearing his uniform.

  “Hi Michael,” I said.

  “How are you, Anne?” he replied. “I thought you had gone back to Maryland.”

  “I did, but they found someone to take my place in the practice so now I'm back home for good.”

  “Liam must be happy about that.”

  “Yes,” I said. “He is.”

  We exchanged a few more pleasantries, then we parted and I didn't think anything more of the conversation until later in the afternoon when Liam and I got back to the farmhouse to find Michael waiting for us. “Michael,” I said in surprise.

  He was looking very grave. “I'm not here in an official capacity, Anne, I'm here as a friend.” His eyes moved to Liam. “I just thought you'd like to know that we arrested your mother this afternoon for the murder of Leslie Bartholomew.”

  Liam's face went white.

  “What happened?” I said.

  “Perhaps we could go inside,” Michael said.

  Without answering, Liam opened the front door.

  “Come into the family room,” I said, and led the way into the comfortable room that held the television set. We all sat down, Liam and I on the sofa, Michael on a chair facing us.

  Michael said, “Chief Brown went up to Washington today to interview her and he took me with him. We met with Mrs. Wellington, the senator and her attorney. The Chief wanted to ask her how her medal came to be at the crime scene.”

  Liam and I nodded.

  “It was not an easy interview. The Senator and her attorney kept interrupting and refusing to allow her to answer. Finally the Chief lost his temper.‘That medal is yours, Mrs. Wellington,’ he roared.‘Everyone knows it is yours. Your son lied to cover up the fact that it is yours. Your maid and your friends say that it is yours. I want to know what the hell that medal was doing next to Leslie Bartholomew's gravesite.’

  “Well, the senator started yelling, the lawyer started spouting law, and then Mrs. Wellington held up her hand. ‘That's enough,’ she said calmly. ‘I will tell you how that medal got there, Chief Brown. It got there because I killed Leslie and it came off when I was burying her body.’”

  Liam groaned. “Oh my God.”

  My mouth fell open. “She said that?”

  “Yes, she did. The senator and the lawyer tried to shut her up but she wouldn't stop. ‘I'm sick of being quiet,’ she said. ‘I've lived with this terrible thing for all these years and I can't live with it any more. It's poisoning me. And it's coming out, Lawrence. The medal has been found. How to explain that except by the truth?’”

  Liam dropped his head into his hands.

  I said, “So she confessed.”

  “She confessed.”

  “Did she say why she did it?”

  “She said that she was drunk and that she knew Leslie was having an affair with her husband and that she was jealous. She didn't mean to kill her, she just struck out blindly. She was very drunk.”

  Liam raised his head. “Surely that is diminished responsibility.”

  “I would think so,” Michael said.

  I said, “So she's been arrested?”

  “Yes. But I'm sure her attorney will arrange bail.”

  Liam said flatly, “Did she say she did this all by herself?”

  “Yes, she did,” Michael answered. “But I don't think anyone believes that Mrs. Wellington was capable of moving a dead body by herself, let alone burying it.”

  “It seems unlikely,” Liam said, still in the same flat voice.

  Michael got to his feet. “Well, that's the reason I came by. I thought you should know what really happened right away, not what the gossip will conjure up.”

  “Thank you, Michael,” I said with genuine gratitude. “We appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  “Yes.” Liam held out his hand. “It was very good of you.”

  When Michael had gone, we turned to look at each other in silence. Then Liam said, “I can't believe she confessed.”

  “It must have been preying on her mind for all of these years,” I said. “Who knows? Maybe it's one of the reasons for her continued drinking.”

  “But even if they established that it was her medal that was found by Leslie's gravesite, they had no way to connect Mom to the murder itself. All she had to do was keep quiet.”

  “I guess she couldn't do that anymore, Liam.”

  There was a long silence.

  Then he said, “I guess not.”

  He was very quiet all night and when we went to bed he just wanted to hold me. I didn't think Alyssa Wellington had been much of a mother, but she was the only mother Liam had ever known and I guess the thought of your mother going to jail was pretty horrible. I tried to give him what comfort I could, and thanked God I had the wonderful mother that I did.

  The next day, Alyssa was out on bail and I started talking to Liam about looking at horse farms in Kentucky. “There's nothing you can do about your mother's situation; there's no point in letting it paralyze your own life. You said you wanted to have your own farm, well now is a good time to look. If there are repairs that need to be done we'll have time to do them before the winter.”

  Once he started talking to real-estate agents, he began to perk up.

&
nbsp; “What about our getting married?” he said to me. “Do you think we could just have a small wedding, with immediate family and a lunch or something?”

  “An excellent idea. It wouldn't look too good for us to be planning a big wedding right now anyway.”

  So that was what we did. We had a small wedding in St. Margaret's Church, then afterward about twenty-five of us went back to Wellington for a catered lunch. Liam and I went to Bermuda for a week on our honeymoon, which was wonderful. When we got home, we got down to the serious business of hunting for a farm.

  In the autumn, the plea bargain between the State of Virginia and Alyssa Wellington was finally arraigned and Liam's mom got three years behind bars. I thought that she had gotten off pretty easily and hoped that the years away from alcohol might break her of the habit.

  Senator Wellington never came into the picture at all, even though everyone knew that he must have been the one who buried the body. But Alyssa stuck to her guns that she did it alone, and he got away scot-free. Well, maybe not. The chances of his winning another election look pretty slim.

  In early December, Liam and I moved into our new farm in Paris, Kentucky. We had twelve beautiful thoroughbred mares, all in foal to good stallions, three really nice yearlings who would be turning two, and Someday Soon, the Triple Crown winner, Breeder's Cup winner, and Horse of the Year. Not to mention all the dogs from Wellington. And true to my word, I got a job with one of the local veterinary practices.

  Our first Christmas in our new home was very happy. My mother came for the holiday and helped us decorate the tree and put the presents under it. On Christmas Eve, as we cuddled under the covers in our own bed, in our own bedroom, on our own farm, I whispered to Liam, “I am so happy.”

  He smoothed my hair off my cheek. “That's wonderful. Because I'm happy too.”

  I rested my head against his chest.

  “Poor Mom,” he said. He had visited her the previous week.

  “I know. But it won't be that long before she can spend Christmas with us, like my Mom. And maybe by then we'll have a grandchild for her to play with.”

  “That would be nice.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  Thump, thump, thump. I listened to the beat of his heart. It was as vital to me as the beat of my own heart, I thought. Life without Liam was unthinkable.

  “I think you're going to like the present I got you,” he said. He sounded anticipatory, like a small boy.

  “I'm sure I will,” I said. “How come it isn't under the tree?”

  “I don't want you to see it until tomorrow.”

  “Wow. Now you've really got me curious.”

  “Good.”

  “I'm afraid I got you a rather ordinary present.”

  “That's okay. I'm sure I'll like it.”

  I pulled away so I could look into his face. “What could it be?”

  He grinned. “You'll see tomorrow morning.”

  I loved it when he grinned like that.

  I reached up and kissed his mouth. “I love you.”

  “Now, that is something I never get tired of hearing.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  “Still not tired.”

  I laughed. “Enough, you glutton.”

  His face sobered. “It's my turn then. I love you, Annie. I love you so much.”

  His head and shoulders were looming over me. “Oh, Liam,” I said. “Oh, Liam.”

  We loved each other with all the youth and passion that was in us and afterwards we lay pressed against each other, hearts pounding, breaths coming fast.

  “Nothing in the world is better than that,” Liam said into my ear.

  “Not even winning the Triple Crown?”

  He laughed. “Not even winning the Triple Crown.”

  “Wow.”

  We held each other for quite a while, then my eyes began to close. It had been a long day; I had made a lot of barn calls.

  “Annie,” Liam said. “I think you should put your pajamas back on before you go to sleep or you're going to be cold.”

  I forced my eyes open. “What?”

  “Sit up.”

  I sat up and he began to put my arm into the sleeve of my pajama jacket. I blinked and said, “I'll do it. I have to go to the bathroom anyway.”

  When I returned from the bathroom wearing my pajamas, Liam had straightened the bed and folded back the quilt for me. I crawled in. He came around to my side, bent over me and said, “I'm going to do a little rearranging of the presents under the tree. You go to sleep and I'll see you in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  He kissed my cheek. “My Annie.”

  My eyes were shut, but I smiled.

  He went out and softly shut the door behind him and I went to sleep.

  THE EDITOR'S DIARY

  Dear Reader,

  Fate has a funny way of bringing together two people who are meant to be, whether they realize it or not. And, with a little bit of mischief and just the right amount of time, Anne Foster and Lady Anne Ellyson are about to get the surprise of their lives in our two Warner Forever titles this September.

  Mary Jo Putney raves “Joan Wolf writes with an absolute emotional mastery that goes straight to the heart” and that couldn't be truer in Joan Wolf's THAT SUMMER. Veterinarian Anne Foster grew up in the rolling hills of Virginia horse country, helping her father train Thoroughbreds at the Wellington family racing farm and longing for Liam Wellington, the boy just out of her reach. But when a beautiful and sought-after girl in the town disappears, Anne's life is changed forever. All evidence points to Liam and his friends, but Anne refuses to accept it. Running from her own memories of that night, she leaves Virginia—and Liam—behind and vows to begin a new life. Now, ten years later, with the death of her beloved father, Anne returns to Wellington Farm and runs into Liam. Drawn into the love she could never forget, Anne is determined to clear Liam's name and risk losing her heart all over again.

  Moving from the horse country of Virginia to the rolling hills of medieval Scotland, we find THE SECRET CLAN: REIVER'S BRIDE by Amanda Scott whoAffaire de Coeur has called “a master.” When reivers descend upon Lady Anne Ellyson one moonlit night, she is shocked to discover their leader is none other than Sir Christopher Chisholm. Long presumed dead, Kit had been betrothed to Anne's favorite cousin Fiona before his disappearance. Now, determined to reunite them and to prevent her cousin's marriage to another, Anne must risk both her reputation and her life to help Kit overcome a false murder accusation. But dare she risk her heart? With the enchanted matchmaking mischief of the Secret Clan, the wrong heartstrings are becoming entangled and romance gets more deliciously complicated each day.

  To find out more about Warner Forever, these September titles, and the authors, visit us at www.warnerforever.com.

  With warmest wishes,

  Karen Kosztolnyik, Senior Editor

  P.S. As you try to pick out the perfect mask for Halloween, Warner Forever offers you two titles in which things aren't always what they appear to be: Annie Soloman presents a spine-tingling romantic suspense about a woman made over into the spitting image of her long-lost biological mother in DEAD RINGER; and Shari Anton makes her mainstream debut in THE IDEAL HUSBAND, a moving historical about a woman who pretends to be married to a handsome nobleman suffering from amnesia.