Richard studied her eyes. "You have to admit it is odd," he said, with a hummed rendition of the theme from The World Beyond.
Christine chuckled and shook her head. "You know what else? Bethann knew the exact distance between each and every jump. Bill kept calling out for her to give him the lengths and parked the tractors from that. She knew them all. It was amazing."
Richard sat back. "Come on, let's not blow this out of proportion. Of course she knows the distances, she probably took the course often enough. And someone else obviously did too."
Christine stood up and started stacking dishes. "You're right, we have to keep this in perspective."
Richard watched her walk away and then come back. "Bethann tells me she didn't see any sign of the cat today either." He handed his plate over, looking up into her eyes. "Maybe he's
long gone."
"Oh no, he's there," Christine insisted. "Bill said he saw him."
Richard grew quiet, wondering. "Have you ever given any thought to spirits?"
Christine's eyes widened. "Oh, Richard. Not you too?"
He smiled. "No, I don't think Leah Oliver set the jumps up."
Christine loved his smile. It was that same smile that had melted her resistance one winter night many years ago. The very same smile he had on his face when he said, "I do," back when she believed he did. But now she turned away from it.
Richard swallowed hard, reminded of everything he'd done wrong in a glance. He took a sip of his coffee. "I ran into James Howell today at the courthouse. He says there's more to the Leah Oliver will, something he'll fill me in on when we meet."
Christine sat down slowly. "What do you suppose it is?"
"I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the infamous cat." He cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe there never was one. Maybe he's just a figment of everyone's imagination."
"Oh, Richard. You don't really think...?"
He laughed. "No, I was just kidding. Honest."
CHAPTER FIVE
The annual cross country event at Maple Dale had always drawn some of the finest horses and riders in Ohio. Klaus Bukener Sr. loved to cross country, and thus, had spared no expense on the design of the course. Leah looked forward to these three days with childlike enthusiasm. Not only did it allow her students to shine among the best, it was always held the first week in autumn, her favorite time of year.
Maple Dale was a myriad of color, glorious as she walked the course searching for rocks, holes, or grooves in the turf, correcting anything that could prove disastrous to a horse's fragile legs. She stood back to admire the view. With her imagination never more vivid, she was astride, feeling the exhilarating spray as she soared over the water jump and bounded across obstacle after obstacle, in one with her horse. A high-strung horse. A horse that stopped suddenly, with nowhere to go, and disappeared right out from under her.
"Oh my God!" she gasped. No wonder. "What happened to the trees? They're gone." She sank to the ground, feeling as desecrated as the earth. The cross country course couldn't be taken without the large oaks to mark the way. She could move fences and rake tanbark. But a tree? She laid her head down on the moist grass and cried, her tears of frustration turning into sobs.
A workman about fifty yards away stopped to listen for a second and looked around. He asked the man next to him if he'd heard anything. When the man said no, he looked around again, shrugged, and went back to work.
* * *
Richard phoned Christine a little after lunch to tell her that James Howell wanted to meet with them.
"Today? I can't. I'm going to be busy here all day. Why can't you just go? You know how I hate all that stuff."
"Sorry, but he insisted on both of us. Plus there's more. John Smith will be coming with him."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know, James couldn't say. But they'd like to meet us out at Maple Dale at four. Will Bethann be there?"
"Yes," Christine said, in a soft, mind-wandering voice. "I'd planned on picking her up from school and bringing her
back with me. The cat thing, you know."
"Then I'll see you there."
"Wait! Why out here? That's spooky. Why not at your office, or at the house for that matter?"
Richard listened patiently as she went on and on, a habit of hers that last year would've annoyed him. Today, it amused him. "Maple Dale was her home, remember. Now come on, I've got to go. I'll see you later."
John Smith and James Howell arrived a few minutes early, overwhelming Christine somewhat, as Bethann sat calmly on the top bleacher, oblivious to John Smith's reputation or the magnitude of what it would take to get him involved in a simple will.
When Richard came in, the three attorneys exchanged handshakes, brief comments about the weather and the Bruning trial that had been monopolizing the news, and ultimately, their predictions for the Browns - Steelers game Sunday.
Walter gathered his prints to leave, but Richard urged him to stay. "You might want to be here for this."
James Howell agreed, as did John Smith. "Klaus Bukener Jr. will be joining us as well."
No sooner said and in he came, pouting and crumpling papers as he sat down on the edge of Christine's desk. "Okay, let's get this over with."
John Smith passed an indistinguishable glance in his direction and turned his attention to the others. "I represent the deceased Klaus Bukener Sr. in this matter, and appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice." He paused to make eye contact with each one of them. "I apologize for the vague information I'm about to bestow upon you."
Klaus shifted his weight with a great deal of exaggeration, but was ignored as John Smith continued. "I understand you've been informed of Leah Oliver's wishes to some extent."
Richard nodded, smiling supportively at Bethann.
"Good." John Smith hesitated. "Which brings me to the reason I have asked you all here today. My client made a provision in his will for Leah Oliver."
Richard, Christine, and Bethann looked at one another.
"I am reluctant to disclose this information with the will yet to be probated, but the circumstances warrant it." John Smith focused on Bethann a moment before turning to Richard. "Klaus Bukener Sr. has willed one third of the Maple Dale estate to Leah Oliver."
A hush fell over the room.
"It was bequeathed to her for her years of dedication to the equestrian program, in the hopes that she would keep it alive."
Tears filled Bethann's eyes, prompting Christine to go over and put her arm around her before John Smith proceeded. "Which is obviously why I've thrown procedure out the window here today. Now as to the Maple Dale development project..."
Richard stared, realizing now where this was headed and worrying already about how Christine was going to handle it.
"Informally, I can only advise you to cease operation."
Walter's eyes widened in disbelief.
"And leave the decision as to whether to continue or not, until both wills have been probated."
In the moment of heavy silence that followed this statement, Walter glanced at Christine, who was still comforting Bethann. He shook his head and sighed. And that was that.
James Howell asked if he could see Leah's belongings. Klaus was unsure of the condition he'd left them, agreed reluctantly, and unlocked the storeroom door. It creaked as he pushed it open, and the lights flickered. Not once but twice. And out came a shrieking cat.
Bill had the misfortune of entering at this point. Everyone startled by the cat turned from one direction to the other. The cat bolted across the room in a blur, scurrying across the steel toe of Bill's boot, startling him as well. He mumbled something in Cajun, something low and throaty, frightening in itself. And it was at this precise moment, with a final and unusually load tick, that the clock on the arena wall stopped.
* * *
Bethann chose to ride home with her mother, knowing her father would insist she talk. Always stuttering more when she was tired, she pretended to be exhausted
from chasing the cat, and knew her mother would spare her the effort.
Christine watched her burrowing down in the seat, and smiled. "Maybe you'll catch him tomorrow."
Bethann yawned dramatically. "Maybe." Not realizing just how tired she really was, she drifted off before they got to the main highway, and was in the barn with Leah.
The two of them were braiding Persian Son's mane for a show, using cinnamon-colored yarn to blend with his liver-chestnut color. Leah was stressing that she should never use yarn that could be seen. Persian Son was a hunter, not a carrousel pony.
Leah led him out of his stall when they were done and hooked him up to the cross ties to tack him. She used her own rolled-leather bridle and her own saddle. The next thing Bethann knew, Leah and Persian Son were moving away from her, backwards. And Leah was whispering, "Never turn your back on a friend. Never..."
Christine nudged her gently. "Hey, sleepy head. We're home."She looked like a little girl sleeping and yet so grown up. "Come on." She nudged her again. "Wake up, or I won't let you out of talking anymore when you think you're pulling one over on me."
Bethann smiled, rubbing her eyes. Shad greeted them at the door, wagging his tail. After the bustle of preparing and eating dinner, Richard suggested they all go for a walk. Christine declined, knowing he'd be able to reach out to Bethann easier if she weren't with them. Besides, lately she'd been feeling pretty weak around him, especially in the evenings. And to give in to him even the slightest would mean she'd forgiven him, something she swore she would never do. She couldn't. Because to forgive him, would mean she'd have to accept some of the blame herself.
Richard and Bethann walked slowly, making sure Shad stayed away from all the flowery bushes, but allowed him to cock his leg on the occasional straggly ones, these and all the light poles they passed. As they walked, they talked about the weather, the air smelling good, like now and after a storm and when the grass was just mowed, and debated over why a dog smelled funny after being outside, why only some birds fly south and others don't, why and how roosters know when to crow, and why fire hydrants were red. Bethann thought they should be blue, and Richard agreed.
On the way back, they came upon Matt Campbell, who was jogging as usual, his favorite pastime. He waved, bobbed around them, checked his watch, patted Shad on the head, and jogged on. Matt, in Richard's opinion, was about as crazy and yet as sane a psychiatrist as he'd ever met. And unrelenting. He was also his best friend.
When they got home, Richard sat Bethann down in the den and asked her to tell him all about Leah, which triggered an instant onslaught of tears. "Go ahead and cry," he said, hugging her gently. "Your mom says it's good to let things out."
Bethann hated to cry, almost as much as she hated to stutter. As a small child, they seemed one and the same. Crying and stuttering. Stuttering and crying. "I th-th-thought this would g-g-get easier, but it's n-not. It's g-g-getting harder."
Richard nodded, helpless to offer anything. What attorney John Smith had laid in her lap would be difficult enough for an adult to handle, let alone a fifteen-year old. Klaus Bukener's father's wish was for Maple Dale to continue its equestrian program. Leah's wish would obviously be the same. And now, both those wishes had been passed on to her.
Bethann pulled away, wiping her nose, and in doing so, smeared mucous across her cheek. Richard smoothed her hair, smiling first, then laughing, and handed her his handkerchief. "Here. Your mother would have a fit if she came down and saw you with snot all over your face."
Bethann sniffled, laughing as well now, and blew her nose. "May I w-w-write about Leah instead of t-t-trying to tell you?"
Richard hesitated. He knew he shouldn't give in and should encourage her to talk no matter how difficult it was, but the pained look in her eyes was more than he could bare. "Okay, but just this once."
Christine had gone up to the bedroom to lie down. With so many things running through her mind, quiet and solitude was all she could handle. She had the radio low, the door shut, and was stretched out on her back, staring at the ceiling. Being alone in the bedroom was something she was used to. She'd agreed to let Richard move back home to try to lead a normal life, for his sake as well as Bethann's. But she hadn't agreed to let him back into her heart, or her bed. No. While Richard fought to control his addiction to alcohol, needing his family to do that, Christine struggled with her own battle, denying his love, one day at a time.
Morning came too quickly for Bethann. She'd been up half the night remembering things about Leah, reliving them in her mind. But when she tried to put them into words, they seemed childish, and she'd find herself starting all over again.
When she'd first met Leah, she wasn't sure she was going to like her, and would never in a million years, forget her first lesson when Leah announced to the rest of the class that she stuttered. She wanted to cry. It seemed so cruel. Kids her own age making fun of her was bad enough, let alone a grown up. It wasn't until the lesson was almost over that she realized how much easier it was getting it out of the way right from the start. At least she didn't have to deal with everyone's surprised looks when she opened her mouth.
Leah had a unique way of introducing all her students. No exceptions. She'd say things like, "Class, we have a new student joining us. His name is Doug, who I understand has been under the direction of Grace Abott."
Everyone would boo.
"Now, now, let's give him the benefit of the doubt. Elbows in, thank you very much, we'll definitely have to work on that. Doug, I'd like you to meet Sue. She's on the bay witch respectively called Lady. Don't watch her hands, she's reaching for the stars. We're working on getting them back down to earth with her glue-tight seat, and one would do well do have her legs over fences. Just don't smile at her or anything. She's approaching puberty and giggles for absolutely no reason whatsoever. It's most annoying.
"Now Bethann over there on the large chestnut used to need a ladder, thank God she finally grew. She has balance galore, just don't get in her way. She stutters and just may run you over before she can yell out a warning. There'll be wrecks everywhere.
"And that's George on the gray. Godawful neck, isn't it? The gray, not George. But if you hear moans, it's probably Plisky. Poor, poor, Plisky. We have George on a diet, but twice last week we caught him hoarding grain."
If she didn't know anything about the new student, she'd declare that for the next few weeks everybody would be watching and looking for something. "You might as well just show it now," she'd say, which usually brought out the worst in all of them. The laughter that followed sounded like a circus.
Bethann read back over what she'd written, put it in an envelope and on her father's desk, passed on breakfast, and left for school.
Christine munched on a piece of toast originally intended for Bethann, and sipped her third cup of coffee. Shad was asleep at her feet, his occasional sigh a comfort to her for some reason. It seemed odd that he would take to her. She'd never liked dogs and had never had one, not even as a child. If forced to choose one, she probably would have gone for a Poodle or a yapping Yorkshire Terrier, a tiny dog that didn't shed. And he'd be too short to leave nose marks on almost every window in the house. Definitely short.
When she got up for another cup of coffee and sat back down, she couldn't help but smile when Shad curled up again at her feet.
Richard never came down for breakfast, a habit he'd developed when mornings were rough, his breath offensive, his hands shaky, and his eyes painfully red. Even now, up early and each morning a pleasure, he remained in his room until everyone was gone.
Though officially there was no reason for Christine to report to work today, she figured Walter would be an emotional wreck, and decided to go give him some moral support. If nothing else, she could at least reassure him of her determination to keep the project moving ahead.
Shad thumped his tail when she put on her jacket, looked at her with his big brown eyes, and got up slowly and followed her to the door.
"
What do you want?" Christine said.
His wagging tail shook his whole body.
"You've been out twice already," she told him. He'd done the same thing yesterday. She hadn't given in then and wasn't about to now. She kept her wits, feeling just a little silly talking to a dog, and locked the door behind her. Halfway down the walk, she stopped and went back, peeked in at him and promised to return soon.
"I won't be long. Go take a nap."
Richard heard her leave and came downstairs, poured a cup of coffee, patted Shad on the head, and went into his den with the newspaper tucked under his arm.
The letter from Bethann was on his desk. He chuckled as he picked it up. She'd drawn a smiley face on the front. As he sat down to read it, Shad meandered in and stretched out on the rag rug with a heavy sigh.
Dad,
You asked me to tell you about Leah, so I'll try. Leah was very special to me, and even though she was as old as you and Mom, she didn't seem like it. Sometimes when she'd yell at us, it did. But most of the time, she was just my friend. I think it's because we were alike in lots of ways, not just the riding, but a lot of things. It was as if we didn't have to talk to know what the other one was thinking. She hated the fact that I stuttered almost as much as I do. But she'd never feel sorry for me or anything like that. She would wave her hand and try to get me to talk faster. And most of the time I could. When I couldn't, the look on her face was exactly how I felt.
I've tried to think of ways to tell you about her, and how I feel, but it's hard. I don't know exactly what to say. I can tell you about this one time when a horse I didn't like refused a jump three times and dumped me twice, and how mad he made me. I wanted to quit and felt like crying. But when Leah helped me up and handed me the reins she said something like, your heart is what's going to get you and this beast over that fence. This is not your fault unless you give up. Understand? Now get back up there and get over that jump. And I did.
Maple Dale (Maple Dale Series) Page 4
