Kentucky Heat

by Fern Michaels

  “Guess you just crossed him off your possibility list.”

  “Yes, I guess I did. I wonder where Metaxas is.”

  “He’s running late. He called to say he’d be here by four.” Ruby clasped her hands in front of her. “You okay with the Ken thing?”

  “I’m okay with it. I had a few fantasies about him for a while, but I can’t picture myself with him. You know what I mean. I know this isn’t going to sound good, but I know you’ll understand. I haven’t been with a man since Hunt died. I went to Ken’s over the holidays to see if I could . . . you know . . . I was prepared to try him out. Me, too, for that matter. You get to be a certain age and you just aren’t comfortable taking off your clothes in front of anyone, especially a man. I was going to do it, though. In order to have sex you need to have two players. He didn’t want to play. He wanted that big-brother routine, a walk, hold hands, a kiss here or there, and that was it. Hey, I have two brothers. I don’t need another one. We’re moving on here, Ruby.”

  “I guess we are. Oh, Smitty said to tell you your lawyer called and will be out around seven. Said she needs to talk to you.”

  “Just what I need today. I hope my eyes are still open at seven o’clock. We have work to do, Ruby.”

  “I hear you, boss,” Ruby quipped.

  They hid out in the tack room, watching Metaxas make his way from the house to the barn, calling his wife’s name as he walked along.

  “Isn’t this where you shout surprise, surprise!” Nealy whispered.

  “I want him to get to the barn first. Oh, I can hardly stand this. I love that man so much it hurts. Here he comes! He looks so lost. He needs me. He really does, Nealy.”

  “I know that, Ruby. Someday I hope I can find someone to love me the way that man loves you.”

  “You will. Trust me.”

  “Ruby! Sweet baby, are you in here?” Metaxas boomed, all 230 pounds of his being quivering with his greeting.

  “I’m here, honey. Ohhh, it’s good to see you. I really missed you.”

  “You smell like horse poop, Ruby.”

  “I know. Isn’t it heavenly? Is everything okay? You look . . . I don’t know . . . sad somehow. No crisis anywhere in the world that you had to fix?”

  “Nope.”

  “I can fix that right up. C’mere, I have something I want to show you. I have a present for you.”

  “For me!”

  “It is your birthday, honey. Listen, I know you have everything in the world. It’s always so hard for me to buy you a present, Metaxas. I agonize over it every single year. This year, though, I bought the biggest red bow I could find and was going to stick it on your present, but instead I’m going to hand it to you. The bow I mean. I hope you like it. If you don’t, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”

  “Did you get me a John Deere tractor, Ruby? You did, didn’t you! Hot damn. I always wanted one of those.”

  “Not exactly, honey. It’s a mover, though,” Ruby said, inching her way to Misty Blue’s stall. She used her index finger to point to the foal nursing at his mother’s side. “His name is Shufly, and he’s all yours, honey!”

  “Mine!” Metaxas boomed, his face full of awe.

  “Mine!”

  “He’s yours, Metaxas,” Nealy said, unlatching the gate. “Go take a look. Misty knows you. Flyby’s watching you, so keep your hands in your pockets.”

  “Jesus God, I can’t believe this.” He grabbed Ruby and hugged her. “Ah, sweet baby, how’d you do this?”

  “Misty did it. Flyby played a big part. Nealy and I just helped. Do you love him, honey? Did I surprise you?”

  Metaxas raised his hands and clenched them. “Love him! I want to pick him up and hold him.” He started to shake with his declaration. Nealy smiled. Ruby whooped with laughter. Flyby whinnied loudly.

  “God Almighty, sweet baby, where’d you get this kind of money?”

  “No, no, no, honey. I didn’t pay for him. This baby is a gift from Nealy. I’m going to give her chickens for the rest of her life,” Ruby said. She smiled, realizing how long it had been since she’d even thought about her Thornton Chicken farm in Las Vegas.

  “Is he . . . do you think . . . ? Is he Derby material?” Metaxas asked.

  Nealy lifted her shoulders. “It’s too soon to tell, but it’s a strong possibility. He’s got the breeding, and he’s certainly got the legs for it.”

  “We are going to move here for the next three years, honey,” Ruby said. “Nealy is going to show us what to do. Are you okay with that, honey? Nick and Emmie are gone, so we have to help out. You don’t have anything earth-shattering you have to deal with, do you?”

  Metaxas shook his head. “If I did, I’d put it on the back burner. I don’t believe this! That little four-legged baby is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s right up there with . . .”

  “Rebuilding and planting an entire mountain for Fanny Thornton?” Nealy quipped.

  Metaxas waved away Nealy’s words as he put his arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “No. I was going to say the day Ruby got news of her clean bill of health.”

  Nealy felt a lump start to grow in her throat. This wonderful man didn’t care one whit about his wife losing both her breasts. This wonderful man who loved and loved and gave and gave twenty-four hours a day—like Hunt’s old friends. Suddenly she felt inferior, a regular Scrooge in comparison. She didn’t like the feeling at all. Her shoulders slumped as she watched Ruby and Metaxas stare at the newborn foal. She knew she wouldn’t be missed if she went up to the house.

  Smitty greeted her with a cup of coffee. Today she was as bejeweled and bejangled as usual. Smitty had style and grit, and Nealy adored her.

  “What say we sit down here at the kitchen table and talk, Nealy. Want a cigarette, or did you quit again?”

  “I quit, but I’ll take one and quit again tomorrow. Do you think I’m nuts, Smitty?”

  Smitty blew a perfect smoke ring. “If you’re nuts, then that makes me nuts, too. No, Nealy. What surprises me the most is you thought we’d all fall for your little charade. We’ve been together twenty-five years. I know you as well as you know me. I also know you’re hurting real bad right now.”

  “I’ll get over it,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Did Clementine say what she wanted?”

  “Not to me she didn’t. You know how I hate that legal crap. What would you say if I told you I’m thinking about getting married?”

  Nealy leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. She was never more relaxed than when she was smoking a cigarette. “I’d say it’s about time. Is Dover Wilkie the lucky man?”

  “You know he is, but don’t get carried away and start planning a wedding, Nealy. I’m just thinking about it. It’s not that my biological clock is ticking. It stopped a long time ago. Believe it or not, I get lonely sometimes. I don’t want to give up my independence, and I don’t want to do that housework slash cooking thing. I’m probably not good marriage material. See how easy I can talk myself out of things.”

  Nealy nodded. She looked around at the cozy, comfortable kitchen she’d done over years before. She loved sitting here drinking coffee and musing about what each new day would bring. Out of the corner of her eye she saw pots of brilliant poinsettias all along the baseboards. How festive they looked even though the holidays were officially over.

  “They were half price at the supermarket, so I bought them all,” Smitty said, pointing to the red flowers in their foil-covered pots. “I thought we could use some color in here. If we take care of them, they should last another month. It’s okay to cry, Nealy. Go upstairs and bawl your head off and get it out of your system. You remember how to cry, don’t you?”

  “Crying is a luxury I can’t afford. If I give in now, I’ll run after both of them. Did Ruby tell you about Ken?”

  Smitty shrugged. “I always said men were strange creatures. Put them all in a bag and shake it up, and you know what, they all come out the same. Yo
u don’t look particularly heartbroken. That’s just an assumption on my part. Feel free to jump in and correct me, Nealy.”

  “I would if there was something to correct, but there isn’t. I think I’m being punished. I went to New Jersey to . . . you know . . . sort of, kind of, check him out. I went there for my own personal . . . You know what I’m talking about, Smitty. In a way I was actually relieved when nothing happened. There weren’t any bells or whistles. He didn’t rock the ground beneath my feet. Somewhere, someplace in this world is a man who can do that for me. I just haven’t found him yet. I will, though.”

  Long years of familiarity allowed Smitty to speak her mind. “No you won’t!” Smitty snapped as she tugged at the yellow-leather vest stretched tight across her chest. “If you stay here on this farm twenty-four hours a day, there is no way in hell you are going to find such a man. You know what else, Nealy Coleman Diamond Clay? You wouldn’t know what the hell to do with a real man. So there.”

  “You’re a wiseass, Smitty. I have more important things to think about than getting a real man in the sack. I’m going upstairs to take a nap.”

  “That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve said since coming back from New Jersey. What should I tell Mr. Bell if he calls again?”

  “He won’t call. It takes a certain amount of energy to pick up the phone and dial a number, and he’s not willing to expend that energy.”

  “You’re a rip, Nealy.”

  “Among other things. Thanks for getting the poinsettias. They really perk up the kitchen. If I’m not up by five, will you wake me, Smitty?”

  “Sure, kiddo. By the way, with all the excitement going on around here I forgot to tell you I hired on four brothers. Do you remember Scully Mitchel?” Nealy nodded. “Well, he croaked the day after Christmas and his sisters are selling everything off. The boys are looking for work. Nice young men. Nick knows them. Fully licensed. They know how to work hard. I hired them on and gave them a raise in the bargain. All four of them will give you an honest day’s work for a day’s pay. They start tomorrow or the next day. Soon as they finish up for Scully’s sisters. You okay with it?”

  “More than okay. My shoulders feel lighter already. Thanks, Smitty.”

  Smitty’s brow furrowed in worry as she watched Nealy’s retreating back.

  In her room with the door closed, Nealy walked over to Maud’s old rocker and gently lowered herself into the softness of the cushions. She was tired, but she wasn’t sleepy. She just wanted to sit and think about what she’d just done. She wished she could cry. Why couldn’t she? When was the last time she’d really cried? She couldn’t remember. Maybe when her dog Charlie died, and then Stardancer. Maybe. Why couldn’t she remember? Did she cry when Maud and Jess died? She couldn’t remember that either.

  Her arm reached out to the day-planner Smitty had given her a year ago. She tried to write in it each night, but for the most part she forgot or was too tired even to pick up a pencil to jot down a few notes. Every damn day of her life was the same, so what was the point of making entries that said the same thing over and over again? There were no surprises, no events, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe Smitty was right. She needed a life outside of the farm. Interests, hobbies. The thought made her throat muscles tighten.

  Nealy’s gaze swept across the room to the pictures on her dresser. Her gaze lingered on a picture of Hunt and Nick with their arms around each other, big smiles on their faces. She remembered vividly the day Smitty had taken the picture. She’d been about to join her husband and son when Nick said, “No, Mom, this is just me and Dad.” There was no picture of her with Nick. No one had ever asked to take one. When Hunt died, she’d gone through all the photos and brought this one into her room. Nick had one in his room. She wondered if Nick had taken his picture with him. Of course he had. It was one of his most treasured possessions.

  Before she could stop to think, Nealy dropped the daily planner on the floor and bolted out of the room and down the hall to her son’s room. Her hand trembled so badly she could barely open the door. Her heart beating trip-hammer fast, she stepped over the threshold and took a deep breath. What had she expected to see in here? The room was neat and tidy just like Nick himself. A young man’s room done in earth tones. Once it had been a little boy’s room. Even back when he was a little boy she had never come into the room unless she was invited. It was Hunt and Nick’s domain. There were no pictures anywhere. Where were all the baseball bats, the mitt, the skis? Where were the posters young men always hung on their closet doors? Maybe inside.

  Nealy reached out to open the closet door. Two flannel shirts on hangers. A pair of old boots, the heel loose on one. There was nothing on the overhead shelf. She slid one of the flannel shirts off the hanger and brought it close to her face. It smelled like Nick, clean and crisp. She peered again into the depth of the closet. Of course there was no baseball bat or glove. Nick never had time for extra activities. All he did was work and read and study. And if she’d had her way, he wouldn’t have read or studied at all. Because . . . because . . . she’d wanted him to be like her, not like Hunt. And to that end, she’d worked him like a mule, the same way Josh Coleman had worked her. What kind of mother did that make her? Not a very good one. Where had she lost her way? Was it when she married Hunt? She wasn’t a good mother, and she hadn’t been a good wife either. She felt dizzy with the thought.

  Emmie. Emmie was different. All those years when she couldn’t talk, all those years of coddling her were different. Different because Emmie was different. Nick had been a sturdy little boy and an even sturdier teenager. And he was a hard worker. Because she made him work. Someday Blue Diamond Farms would be his and Emmie’s to run. They had to be prepared to run it the way she’d had to learn. She could never have progressed to where she was now if she’d gone to college. And because she didn’t go to college, she’d always felt inferior to Hunt. Had she taken that and dumped it on Nick and Emmie? Of course she had.

  Hunt overrode her so many times when it came to Nick. He home-schooled him a lot. A quick study, all Nick had to do was show up and take a test. And he always passed. She knew that because Smitty told her, not because Hunt and Nick did.

  That was when she trenched in and made Nick work harder. She knew now that Emmie had carried half his load just so he could study. Just the way her brothers had stepped in to help her when she lived at SunStar Farms. She knew that, too, because Smitty told her. Long after the fact.

  Nealy dropped her head into her hands. This was all because of what happened with that hateful old man Josh Coleman back in Virginia. He’d left a mark on her soul, and she didn’t know how to erase it. God help her, she was just like him.

  Her single-minded goal in life had been to tie her children to her so they would never leave the farm the way she’d been forced to leave SunStar Farms.

  She wasn’t fit to carry the name of Mother.

  She knew she was going to cry when she felt the hot tears behind her eyelids. With her son’s shirt pressed to her cheek she let the tears flow, red-hot against her cheeks. Her shoulders shook, and her body trembled. “I’m sorry, Nick. I’m so very sorry. Forgive me, Emmie.”

  Nealy closed the door behind her and walked back to her room, the shirt clutched tightly in her hands. This time she locked the door behind her. Still crying, she climbed up onto the big four-poster and curled into a tight ball. She was asleep within minutes, her dreams full of sorrow and regrets.

  “Nealy, it’s six o’clock. Wake up, kiddo.” Smitty was banging on the door.

  “I thought you were going to wake me at five. We’ll be eating dinner when Clementine gets here,” Nealy muttered as she stuffed Nick’s shirt under her pillow. “I just want to wash my face and comb my hair. I’ll be down in a minute. What’s for dinner?”

  “Thornton Chicken frozen potpies. I made a salad,” Smitty called through the door. “Ruby and Metaxas are in the kitchen. He says he’s going to find us a housekeeper who can cook. I don’t think h
e likes Thorntons, and Ruby is having peanut butter and jelly because she won’t eat chicken. Shake it, Nealy. Dover and I have plans to take in a movie this evening.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll be right down.”

  Nealy looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked haggard and old, and her eyes were red and puffy. Everyone was going to know she’d been crying. According to Smitty it wasn’t such a terrible thing to cry. The only problem was, she didn’t feel one bit better.

  She sighed. Life would go on regardless of how she looked or what she did.

  4

  Nealy stood at the kitchen sink, her hands in soapy dishwater. A long frond from the fern hanging over the sink tickled her ear. She gazed out the window at the steady drizzle that would, according to the weatherman, turn into an all-night hard rain. She shivered inside her wool sweater.

  Her hands fumbled in the soapy water for the plug. The dishwater gurgling down the drain sounded ominous to her ears. She could have loaded the cups and silverware into the dishwasher but felt the need to keep herself busy so she wouldn’t think. It wasn’t working. Maybe after the meeting with Clementine Fox she would drive over to Emmie’s house. Maybe. She knew she wouldn’t do it because going to Emmie’s house, seeing her things, would only make her feel worse than she already felt. It would be better if she sent Smitty, but even that could wait till tomorrow. She’d burned her bridges and had to live with her loss. For now anyway.

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Emmie with a baby. She was going to be a grandmother. Would Emmie send pictures from time to time? She hoped so, but she doubted her daughter would want to share her precious child with someone like her. Someone like her. The words danced around inside her head. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she have called her children into the kitchen and said something like, “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you. You’re now free to do whatever it is you want to do with your lives.” Why couldn’t she have done it like that? Maybe someday she would come up with an answer that she could make sense of. Then again, maybe she would never come up with the answer.