That was the rub. She’d cashed Clay’s check and already spent two-thirds of the fifteen thousand. She was still in debt for a new truck and horse trailer, not to mention the breeding fee for Cleo. How could she pay him back? She had no job, no income. He’d have to give her time. After all, he hadn’t been exactly forthcoming with the actual conditions of her employment. It was as much his fault as hers. Had she known the daughter was so disturbed, she’d never have taken the job.
“Ms. Tremaine, would you take a walk with me? I’d like to show you the grounds.”
Clay’s voice made her start. She’d fallen so deeply into her own troubles she’d forgotten she was still sitting at the table with him. “Of course.” She put her napkin on the table and stood, her gaze catching his for a moment. She felt the brush of his fingers across her jaw as surely as if he’d physically reached out to her. But he hadn’t moved at all! She took an instinctive step backward and struck her chair.
“Ms. Tremaine.” He jumped up and grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” she managed. His fingers were warm, supporting. She lifted her arm from his grasp. “Thank you. I have some things I need to talk about with you, too.”
Connor preceded him down the hall and to the door, and they walked out together. She was keenly aware that his stride was long and purposeful, perfectly matched to her own. Silence stretched between them as they left the house behind. They walked on, almost to the end of the pecan orchard, and still he said nothing.
“Mr. Sumner, you weren’t honest with me.” Connor broke the silence. “You never indicated at all that your daughter is … emotionally disturbed.” There, it was out in the open.
“Renata has been having nightmares. For a long time,” he answered. He looked at Connor, his blue eyes unwavering. “I tried to help her, but I can’t seem to get through. Renata refuses to say what she dreams about or anything else. I fear her condition is getting worse and worse.”
“She needs professional help. She’s terrified of something, and it isn’t just a childish fear of riding. If I were her parent, I’d get her to a really good child psychologist.”
Clay shook his head in a combination of disgust and anger. “I tried. We had the best man in New Orleans. It was absolutely useless. Renata sat without speaking for session after session. We went at this for eighteen months, Ms. Tremaine, twice a week. Don’t you think I haven’t tried everything? Renata said if I made her go back, she’d run away.”
“Children don’t know what’s good for them,” Connor gently reminded him. “Renata is a child. She can’t be allowed to make her own rules.”
“It isn’t just Renata. The doctor told me it was useless if she wouldn’t make an attempt to work with him. He suggested that I try a more direct approach.” He pointed to an old pecan tree and led Connor in that direction. “Hiring a horse trainer was his idea. Renata’s fears seem to involve all of Oaklawn, but particularly the barn, and to a lesser extent the house. Dr. Rubenstein encouraged me to get Renata to confront her fears.”
“You should have told me this,” Connor said. Anger nibbled at the roots of her hair. The prickly heat needled and moved on her scalp—always a bad sign for whoever she was dealing with. The bastard had deliberately tricked her into a situation that was no-win.
“You wouldn’t have come. It’s too far for such a gamble.”
“That’s an understatement. And it’s too bad that I’ve quit my job and spent most of your money. You’ll have to suffer the loss, at least until I can try to pay you back. I’m sorry, Mr. Sumner, but I quit.”
Clay leaned against the knotted bark of the tree. They were in the back corner of the orchard, far removed from any prying eyes. There was no anger in his blue eyes as he looked at her.
“You can’t quit.”
“Watch me.” Connor’s anger was growing with each second. “You tricked me and deceived me. You’re expecting me to do something that could be very dangerous for your little girl. I’m not trained to do this, and I’m not going to try. What if this little experiment you’ve concocted backfires? Your daughter might completely withdraw. Have you thought about that?”
“Connor, I didn’t tell you the complete truth. That’s true. But Renata needs you.”
“Bullshit, Clay Sumner. She needs a doctor.”
A twist of irony touched the corners of Clay’s mouth. “You’re wrong about that. She’s had the best doctors around. The best. Now it’s up to me to figure out a way to help my daughter. If I can’t break through the dark wall that she’s erected, I really may lose her forever.” His jaw clenched. “I won’t let that happen.”
“And you’re willing to risk everything. Your child. My career. Everything.”
Clay’s blue eyes calmed. The bitterness left his face, replaced by the hint of a real smile. “I checked you out very carefully. You’re the best. The very best there is. I’ve minimized the risk as much as possible. I like you, Connor Tremaine. You’ve got some backbone. To be honest, if I thought it would help Renata, I would take her to the ends of the earth. But it won’t help. She won’t let it. The horses might trigger a breakthrough. Or at least, that’s what Dr. Rubenstein thinks. If she shows any indication that she’s willing to talk with him, I’ll have her there in less than two hours. Day or night.”
“Election or not?” Connor put the hardest edge on her question. The suspicion that perhaps a child with mental problems might not play well in the Alabama political arena had crossed her mind.
“My career will never come before my child. Never.”
Connor shook her head. “I’m not the right person for this job. I’ll get your money back to you, but it’ll take me some time.”
“You’re forgetting the contract you signed.”
The deadly calm statement caught Connor like a punch in the midriff. She actually sucked air. “What? That contract isn’t worth two cents. You lied to me. You deceived me and misrepresented the entire situation. No court would honor such a farce.”
“I wouldn’t want to bet on that. You see, I wrote it myself. Did you read it carefully?” There was no satisfaction in his face, just a shading of regret. “I hate to do this, but I was afraid your initial reaction might be to jump and run. I know mine would be.” His smile was self-deprecating. “You’ve stepped into a mess, but I need you and I won’t let you get away if I can stop it.”
“You’d hold me to a contract knowing you lied?” Connor was still in shock. “Richard said you were honorable in your business dealings. That’s why I didn’t take the contract to a lawyer.” The mistake she’d made was glaringly obvious.
“I find no pleasure in this. Please don’t think that I do.” He walked around a tree, giving her a moment to adjust to the situation.
“If I break the contract, what will happen?” Connor calculated the worst. A lawsuit. Her name ruined. Her name was all she had. A man like Clay could see that her ruin was complete.
“Would you consider a compromise?”
“Do I have a choice?” she lifted her chin.
“Stay for one month.”
“One month?” Her smile was bitter. “And then what trick?”
“No trick. Stay one month and try with Renata. If you still want to leave, you can go.”
“Even if I’ve made progress with the child?” Connor’s anger still churned. “Won’t that be your next excuse for lying?”
“If you don’t want to stay, you won’t make any progress with Renata. All I’m asking is that you try it here.”
“You’re not asking anything.” She was so angry she was trembling. A soft wind laden with the smell of honeysuckle blew several loose curls against her cheek. She brushed them away. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“Ms. Tremaine, please try to see it from my point. Renata is precious to me. You’re here already. You’ve moved your horses here. They’ll be well fed and well cared for. You can spend plenty of time training them and looking for the stock you hope to acq
uire. Just spend a few hours a day with my children.”
He was ticking off every point she’d made when she was convincing herself to take the job. It was frightening. “I have no choice. I’ll stay a month. And I’ll give you my best in that time. But if I decide to leave at the end of thirty days, I’m going no matter what you do.”
“Stay the thirty days and the entire fifteen thousand is yours. And I won’t ask anything else.” He held out his hand. “You have my word.”
Connor looked at the outstretched palm. The man was as slippery as an oiled snake. She put her hand in his and shook. “I hope your handshake is more reliable than your word.” She started walking back to the house.
“Wait a minute. I should tell you the whole thing now.”
Connor’s anger was cooling. She’d agreed to stay for thirty days. And she’d agreed to do her best. In order to do so, she had to know the facts. “What am I dealing with?”
“It all started with my wife’s death,” Clay said. Anguish passed over his face, and he turned abruptly away. “It was horrible, especially for Renata. She worshipped her mother.”
“Death is never easy for a child. Especially a sudden one.” She hesitated, then decided to press on. “Willene said Mrs. Sumner wasn’t sick. How did she die?”
“Talla died in the barn.”
“I see.” Connor stood beneath a half-bare pecan tree watching Clay Sumner struggle for words. Renata’s fear was more understandable. “Did she take a fall, or did one of the horses catch her with a hoof?”
“It wasn’t a horse.” He grew suddenly very still. “My wife hanged herself. From the rafters of the barn.”
“My God,” Connor whispered, thinking back immediately to Renata’s face at the barn. “No wonder the child is so terrified.” She looked at the house, visible through the green leaves of the pecans. “When I drove in here, I sensed something sad.” She shifted so that she could see the weathervane on the barn. “It’s such a beautiful place.”
“I believe you can help Renata,” Clay said. “And Danny, too. He seems normal, but he’s like his sister’s shadow. He can’t grow up like that.” He walked to stand in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I know it might not make any sense to you, but when Richard told me about you, I knew you were the one who could make a difference for Renata. I believe that still.”
Connor’s reaction was against all logic. She felt his hands on her shoulders, the fingers firm, and she saw the need in his eyes. Clay Sumner was a compelling man.
The warmth of his fingers went through the cotton of her blouse. His eyes seemed to see only her. “Okay,” she agreed, without even intending to speak.
“If she doesn’t get over her fear, she’s going to lose any chance at a real life,” Clay said. “She can’t grow up being afraid of everything.”
“And you think if she conquers the barn, she can put her other fears to rest?” Connor stepped backward, forcing Clay to drop his hands from her shoulders. When the breeze struck the places he’d touched, she felt suddenly cold.
“Partly. And I think she can learn from you that she has to go on with her life. You have that about you, Connor, a sense of survival, of enduring the worst and surviving.”
“I’d wondered what Richard told you. Obviously a lot more than he told me about you,” she said softly. “I don’t make a habit of dragging my past around with me.”
“He told me about your mother and brother, yes. He said your brother died instantly in the car accident, but that your mother lived for months.”
“Ten. It was a terrible way to die.”
“Richard said you were nineteen, and that you held your father together.”
“Richard really did fill out my credentials for sainthood, didn’t he?” she asked. Her voice had thickened with emotion and she shrugged.
“Renata has to learn that … to continue, to get on with her life. Day after day she sits in the house. She has to learn it!”
“First she has to want to …”
The shriek wafted on the gentle breeze, a lone, childish cry of pain that wrenched Connor’s heart.
“Renata!” Clay rushed past Connor, running toward the house as fast as he could.
The scream came again, holding on a high-pitched note before breaking into sobs. Connor didn’t think she’d ever heard anything so lonely in her entire life. She ran after Clay.
She found them in the library, Renata sobbing in her father’s arms. “Daddy, don’t leave. Daddy!” she cried against his chest, her voice choked with panic. The children’s book was on the floor, pages bent.
“What is it?” Connor asked Willene, who hovered over the sobbing child. Danny stood in a corner, his eyes wide with worry.
“The book,” Willene said carefully. “Renata came in here to get something to read, and she found the book on the table.”
“It’s a children’s book,” Connor said. “The Secret Garden. I read it when I was a child. There’s nothing in it …”
Willene held a finger to her lips and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Ms. Talla was reading it to the children the night she died. It was Renata’s favorite, a special gift from her Uncle Harlan. Seeing the book, and being in this house, has upset Renata. It’s too much for one day.” She shook her head. “And how did that book get down on that table, anyway? I cleaned in here myself.”
“It was there this morning,” Connor said. “I came in to look around, and it was there, before I saw you in the kitchen.”
“Well, it wasn’t there yesterday. I’d never have left it when I helped Sally dust the room. I knew the children were coming and all.”
Renata’s sobs had lessened, and she hiccupped softly, her forehead buried against her father’s neck.
“That’s what that child needs,” Willene said under her breath. “A little attention and some cuddling. From her father. That’s what she needs more than anything in the world.”
Connor felt Clay’s gaze on her and she looked at him. Renata was curled in his arms, exhausted by her emotional outburst. Over the top of her head, Clay’s eyes held a deep torment. “Stay,” he said.
Connor wasn’t sure if he said the word or mouthed it. But she heard the request clearly.
“I’d better get back to the barn and take care of the horses,” she said. “I’m sure Mr. Sumner would like some time alone with the children.”
“Yes,” Willene picked up the book and tucked it under her arm. “I’ve chores in the kitchen, too.” She took Connor’s arm as they walked into the hall. With great care, Willene closed the door.
“If they’d had their pa after Ms. Talla’s death, things would never have gotten to this pass. Children need their parents, Ms. Tremaine. They can’t be neglected or bad things happen. As it was, though, Mr. Clay was all set to run for the governor’s seat.”
“I’m sure Mr. Sumner didn’t intentionally neglect his children.” After the session in the orchard with Clay, Connor knew Clay would do almost anything for his kids.
“Intentions aren’t the measuring cup for results.” Willene blinked her eyes and turned slightly away. When she spoke again, her voice had softened. “Mr. Clay had been working hard. Ms. Talla knew what was expected of her. There were times I thought she wanted it more than him. Then there were times … Anyway, the race was a shoo-in. They were so young and attractive. Mr. Clay was so full of ideas and ways to move this poor ole state forward.”
“Mrs. Sumner’s death must have ruined that.” A family suicide would be a death blow to a political career, especially in such a conservative state.
“He fought it. He ain’t no easy quitter, not when it’s something he wants. He went down kickin’, I’ll give him that. He wanted it bad, and he fought for it until he saw that he just wasn’t going to be governor and withdrew. It nearly broke him. He’d held himself together after the terrible thing with Ms. Talla just to run for governor. When they took that away from him, it was like he had nothing left.”
“What
happened after that?” Connor was curious despite herself.
“Oh, he stayed down at the town house, working night and day. He was a man possessed, ignoring his children and his family responsibilities. He built up his law practice and took up a few … hobbies.” Willene frowned. “Wasn’t much place in there for the children. They stayed with him some, with his mother, with Ms. Talla’s mother. Of course, there were always servants to see after them, but no one really to care.”
Connor had seen it before, a situation where parents could afford everything except the time for the kids. Nothing money could buy was a good enough substitute. She didn’t say anything, but she understood a little better the anguish on Clay’s face. She gave him credit for knowing he’d made a terrible mistake. At least he was trying to change matters.
“How long ago did Mrs. Sumner die?”
“Two years. Mr. Clay shut down the house here and locked up the barn. It nearly made me sick. I’d worked here for the past forty years, on and off, but mostly on. I came here as a girl, younger than Sally, and stayed. My folks live over by Youngneck Road, and then I moved just down to Havens Road.” A series of emotions crossed her face in rapid succession. “When I was a young woman, frisky and likin’ to preen, I walked to work each morning. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was a pretty little thing.” She patted her wide hips. “Times were different then for young folks. Simple pleasures made for simpler hearts. Sin wasn’t everywhere you looked. If I could give Renata and Danny one week of my childhood, I think it would heal them right up.”
Connor patted the older woman’s hand. “It might at that.”
“You’re thinking about leaving, aren’t you?” Willene caught her hand and held it. “You didn’t bargain for this, I know. I wondered if Mr. Clay had been straight with you. I somehow thought he hadn’t told you the whole story.”
Connor hesitated. “Mr. Sumner assumed that a mutual friend had filled me in on all the details of … Mrs. Sumner’s death.”
Deception Page 6
