High Meadow

by Joan Wolf

  Yes, I do.

  Do I care what Daniel thinks?

  Not really.

  Oh dear. I think I'm falling for Alberto.

  Is that such a bad thing?

  It's not that it's a bad thing, it's that it's a pointless thing. Alberto is planning to go back to his family in Colombia. His book will be published in Colombia. His life is in Colombia.

  I can't possibly go and live in Colombia.

  Maybe I should stop seeing him. There's no point in setting myself up for heartbreak.

  Damn, damn, damn. After all these years I meet a man I really like, and he has to be Colombian.

  "I finished my chapter, Nana. Can I put the television on now?"

  She smiled at her grandson, "Yes, Ben. You can watch television."

  Ben needs me. Kate needs me. I'm not free to please myself right now.

  I think I had better explain that to Alberto.

  * * *

  23

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  The phone in the barn rang while Kate was mucking out Shane's stall. It was Dr. Madison. "Kate, I'm over at George Murray's place, and they've just taken him off in an ambulance. I think he had a heart attack."

  "Oh my God."

  "It's a miracle that I happened to be here; he went down like a tree. I called 911 and started CPR, but I can't stay here. Someone is going to have to look after these horses until. . . well, until George can do it himself."

  "I'll look after the horses. Were you able to start him breathing again?"

  "No."

  "Shit."

  "Yes."

  'All right, Dr. Madison. Thanks for calling me. I'll look after George's horses. Which hospital did they take him to?"

  "I think they went to Bridgeport."

  "Okay."

  Kate hung up the phone and went back to finish mucking Shane's stall. I'll bring my horses in early, then I'll go over to George's and get his horses in. Then I'll call the hospital. What lessons do I have scheduled for this afternoon?

  She wheeled the wheelbarrow to the muck heap, emptied it, returned to the barn, and started on her last stall. Then she let her school horses in by simply opening the big door at the back of the indoor arena. The herd came racing in, Max in front as always, the others meticulously in the order of their herd status. All the animals knew their own stalls and were eager for the hay they knew awaited them, so all Kate had to do was go around and close the stall doors. After she walked in the private horses, she went up to the house, left a note for her mother, and drove over to George's.

  George's was a smaller property than High Meadow. The stable was a four-stall barn, which housed three horses: George's old hunter and two Morgans, which he drove. The hunter was already in his stall; evidently he had been the subject of the vet's ministrations. Kate brought the Morgans in, gave all the horses hay and made sure their water buckets were full, then went to call the hospital.

  There was no information available on George Murray.

  The hospital was only fifteen minutes away, and Kate decided to simply go. She put George's Jack Russell, Samson, in the car with Cyrus and drove to the emergency entrance, where she parked the car. She went inside and asked for George.

  The receptionist told her to wait and, after a few minutes, a blond young man in scrubs came out to talk to her. "I'm Dr. Fowler," he said. "Are you Mr. Murray's daughter?"

  "No, I'm a good friend."

  "Do you know how we can contact his family?"

  "He has one son, and he's a doctor in Massachusetts."

  "Would you have his phone number?"

  "I probably have it at home." She gripped her hands together hard. "What's going on? Is George going to be okay?"

  "I'm very sorry," Dr. Fowler replied, "but he was dead on arrival. It was impossible to resuscitate him."

  No, Kate thought numbly. I can't believe it. George isn't dead. He can't be dead. He's only sixty-eight.

  She said this last thought out loud.

  "I'm sorry," the doctor repeated. "Would it be possible for you to give us his son's phone number so we can notify him?"

  "I'll have to go home and call you. I don't have it with me."

  "I would appreciate that, Miss Foley."

  Kate drove home and looked up Ken Murray's phone numbers. There were two of them, one for home and one for the office. She dialed the office number and got a receptionist.

  "This is Kate Foley. I'm calling about Dr. Murray's father. I'm afraid I have bad news. Will you put him on, please?"

  She waited for perhaps a minute and a half, then she heard Ken's voice speaking her name. "Kate?"

  "Ken, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but George had a heart attack this morning. He was dead by the time they got him to the hospital."

  "My God."

  "I know. It's a shock."

  "There was no warning?"

  "Not that I know of. He seemed perfectly normal the last time I saw him. He was talking about showing the Morgans at Fox Ridge this spring."

  "I'll come down tonight."

  "The hospital wants you to call—to make dispositions for the . . . the body."

  "Do you have the number?"

  She gave it to him.

  "Is anyone looking after the horses?"

  "I am. And I have Samson with me, so you don't have to worry about him."

  "Thanks, Kate. Is ... is Kirby White still in business?"

  "Yes. Do you want their number?"

  "If you wouldn't mind. I'll have to make arrangements for a wake. Dad had a lot of friends who will want to say good-bye."

  "Here's the number," Kate said.

  She hung up and glanced at her watch. It was time for Ben's bus.

  "Cyrus!" The shepherd lifted his head from his paws.

  "Go get Ben, Cyrus." She opened the kitchen door. "Go get Ben."

  The shepherd trotted out the door, then began to lope down the driveway. Kate closed the door to keep the heat in the house, sat down at the table, and buried her face in her hands.

  Oh George. I can't believe that this has happened. It shouldn't have happened. You were in great shape.

  A cloud of depression so thick it was almost palpable engulfed her.

  When Cyrus and Ben came into the kitchen she looked at her son and said, "I've had bad news, Ben. George had a heart attack this morning."

  "Is he okay, Mommy?"

  "No, he's not okay. He died."

  "Oh." Ben's eyes were even larger than usual.

  Kate managed a small smile. "I'm feeling very sad. I'll miss him terribly."

  Ben came over and put his small hand over hers on the table. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

  Kate put her arms around him and hugged him. "Thank you, Ben." It was so sweet to feel his strong little body pressed against her. She bent her head and kissed the top of his head. "I'm going to have to take care of his horses."

  "I'll help you, Mommy."

  "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that."

  Ben was sitting at the kitchen table eating a peanut butter cookie when Molly came in. Kate gave her the news.

  "Oh, Kate. Oh no. I'm so sorry, darling."

  Kate nodded. "I talked to Ken, and he's coming down tonight. I told him I'd look after George's horses."

  Molly looked as if she was going to protest, but then she said nothing.

  Kate looked at the kitchen clock. "I have a lesson in fifteen minutes. Mom, do you think you could call the people in my six o'clock lesson and tell them it's canceled? That way, I can feed here a little early and get over to feed at George's before his horses get too anxious."

  "Of course I can call for you, Kate."

  "I wrote down the names for you. The numbers are on the Rolodex in my office."

  "Okay."

  Ben said, "Have another cup of tea, Mommy. It will make you feel better."

  Both women laughed. Kate said, "I haven't time, Ben. But I will have a cookie."

  Ben passed her the tin, and she took one and went
out. Cyrus followed her and, after the briefest of pauses, Samson went out after Cyrus.

  Kate was just finishing up in George's barn when Ken Murray's car pulled in. His wife and two sons went into the house, but he walked over to the barn to talk to Kate.

  "The wake will be Thursday and the funeral on Friday," he said to her. "I made arrangements with Kirby White in town."

  Kate nodded. "Have you notified the newspapers?"

  "Kirby White did that for me."

  Kate nodded again. Ken Murray was six years older than she and they had never been close friends, but they had known each other for a long time. "I'm so sorry, Ken," she said now. "He was a wonderful man."

  "You're going to miss him more than I will, Kate. He was part of your life in a way that he wasn't part of mine anymore."

  Kate knew that this was true and didn't try to deny it.

  Ken looked down at the small terrier that was standing next to Kate. He bent to pet him. "Hey there, fellow. What's going to become of you, eh?"

  "I can take him home with me tonight, if he'll be too much trouble for you," Kate said.

  "Do you think you could keep him permanently, Kate? Jason, my younger son, is allergic to animals."

  "Of course I'll keep him."

  "Thank you. I wish the horses could be disposed of so easily."

  Kate stiffened at his use of the word "disposed."

  "George loved his horses almost as much as he loved Samson. You can't be thinking of putting them down?"

  "I can probably sell the Morgans. Dad showed them, and they did pretty well. But Sebastian is ancient. Who will take him?"

  "I will," Kate said promptly. "I just lost a boarder the other day—the owner moved to Maryland—so I have an empty stall. I would be honored to take Sebastian."

  "Thank you, Kate. I'll pay his boarding fee for as long as you have him, I promise you."

  Kate nodded.

  They spoke for a few more minutes, then Ken went up to the house, and Kate got in her car to go home.

  Kate didn't cry when she gave the news to Daniel, nor did she cry when she saw the obituary notice in the local paper. She didn't even cry when she was petting Samson and trying to reassure him. Nor did she cry when she walked into the funeral home and saw George lying in a coffin.

  The wake was crowded. Ken had asked Kate to stand with the family. "You're the daughter Dad never had. Besides, you'll know more people than I will," he had said. So she stood from three to five in the afternoon and from seven to nine at night, shaking hands and being kissed by all of George's friends.

  Daniel came in the evening. "I came for you," he said when she told him she was surprised to see him. "Molly had to stay home with Ben tonight, and I thought you should have someone here. I know you cared for him deeply. I am so sorry, Kata. All I can say is that he didn't suffer."

  Everybody had been saying that, and it was even true, but it didn't make Kate feel much better. "Thank you," she said now. "I appreciate your coming, Daniel."

  She didn't cry until the wake was over and she went up to say a prayer in front of the casket. She looked at George. God. I can't believe this is happening. And the dam that she had built against grief ruptured, and she started to sob.

  Someone put an arm around her shoulders. "Go ahead and cry, Kata."

  She turned her face into Daniel's shoulder, to shield herself from the rest of the room, and deep, wracking sobs tore through her.

  "Who's that?" she heard someone say.

  "It's Kate," came the response.

  Ken's voice said, "Kate ..."

  She looked up from Daniel's shoulder and saw Ken. He was crying. "Oh, Ken." They hugged each other.

  Then Daniel was helping her into her black Talbot's coat. "I'll drive you home," he said. She was in no condition to drive, and she knew it. "Thank you, Daniel."

  "He was only sixty-eight," she said to Daniel through her tears. "He wasn't ready to die."

  "Is anyone ever really ready to die?"

  "My father was. By the time the cancer got finished with him, he was ready to die."

  "Just think that George didn't have to go through that ordeal. One minute he was here, feeling fine and healthy, and the next minute he was gone. I hope I'll be so lucky when my time comes."

  Kate crushed the handkerchief she had been using in her hand. "Maybe what I meant was that I wasn't ready for him to die."

  "I know you were fond of him, Kata. I'm sorry."

  Fond of him? Are those the words to describe my feelings for George?

  She pondered this question later, when she was alone in her room, undressing for bed. She felt as if a huge part of her life had just been ripped away from her. No more George. It didn't seem possible. Who would she discuss the day-to-day operations of the barn with? Who else would be as interested, as knowledgeable, as George?

  Ever since she had taken over running the business from her father, George had been there for her. Once, when she was in a real tight spot, he had even lent her money.

  I've been so proud of standing alone, she thought. I forgot that George was always there, standing behind me, ready to catch me if I fell. I thought I didn't depend on anyone, but I depended on him. And now he's gone.

  George is gone, and Mom has cancer.

  A feeling that felt suspiciously like panic tightened Kate's stomach. I'm a sham. I convinced myself that I was self-sufficient, that I could take care of the barn and take care of Ben by myself. But all the while I was relying on George and Mom to back me up.

  "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is apiece of the continent, a part of the main ..." The quote, which she had heard her mother use a number of times, came to her mind.

  I guess it's true, but it seems as if all my bridges to the main are being cut away from me.

  She buttoned up her flannel pajama top and got into bed. Daniel had been there for her tonight, she thought. Was she building another bridge to Daniel? And if she was, would it be reliable?

  If he can get me to marry him, then he has Ben. Isn't that what this romancing me is all about? Getting control of Ben?

  I don't know: I don't seem to know anything anymore. And now I have to call Caroline Douglas and tell her that the empty stall I offered her is filled. She's not going to be a happy camper. She'll probably change instructors.

  Well, there's nothing I can do about it. I wouldn't trust Sebastian to anybody else. George loved that horse, and I'm going to take care of him the way George would want. And the same goes for poor little Samson.

  Kate turned over on her side, pulled the covers up over her shoulders, and shut her eyes. She was half-asleep when an incident from her childhood popped into her mind. She had been eight years old and at a horse show with her father when she had gotten lost. She could still remember the terror that had possessed her when she realized that he was nowhere in sight. Everywhere she looked there were strange people and strange horses. Frantically, she had started to dart through the crowd of people, looking for the familiar black hair and broad shoulders of her father. She couldn't find him.

  She didn't hear the announcement when it was made the first time, but when it was repeated she got it: "Kate Foley, please come to the blue-striped tent."

  She went up to a woman who was standing at the training ring watching a horse warm up, and said, "Excuse me, where is the blue-striped tent?"

  The woman, who was obviously an exhibitor as she had on breeches and boots, looked down at Kate. 'Are you lost, honey?"

  "My father is waiting for me at the blue-striped tent, but I don't know where it is."

  "I'll take you." Kate had walked with the woman through the crowd of people until the tent came into sight. Standing there, in front of where exhibitors were signing in and getting their numbers, was her father.

  "Daddy!" She ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

  "Where have you been, Kate?" He sounded angry, but she knew he was only frightened.

  "You lost me," she said. "I was
looking at the horses, and you lost me."

  The woman who had helped her came up to them both. "I guess this is your dad, honey."

  "Yes," her father had said. "Did you show her the way:

  "Yes. I'm glad she's safe."

  "Thank you very much. She had me scared. Kate, say thank you to the lady."

  The child Kate had taken her face out of her father's coat and looked at the woman. "Thank you for helping me."

  The woman Kate opened her eyes. Good grief, where did that memory come from? I haven't thought about that in years and years.

  Daddy. I tried so hard to please him. And I did please him. He was proud of me.

  God. George is dead.

  Nothing is going to be the same anymore.

  * * *

  24

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  Kate ordered most of Ben's Christmas presents from the JCPenney Christmas catalogue, which featured almost all of the things he had asked for. She bought Molly a cashmere sweater and a scarf at Lord & Taylor, then wondered if she should buy a present for Daniel.

  "Are you getting something for Daniel and Alberto, Mom? They're coming over Christmas morning to watch Ben open his gifts. I suppose we should have something under the tree for them, too."

  "I was planning to get them each something," Molly said.

  "What can we possibly get Daniel? He has everything. He's a multimillionaire, for God's sake."

  "I was going to give them both a book."

  Kate broke into an affectionate smile. "You're so predictable, Mom. You always give people books."

  "A book makes a nice present."

  "Yes, it does. But if you're giving him a book, I can't give him a book, too."

  "How about a scarf? Or a shirt?"

  "I don't want to give him clothing. It's too personal."

  "A CD?"

  "That's a thought. I could give them both a CD."

  "Alberto loves Mozart."

  "Great. And I'll ask Alberto for a suggestion about what to get Daniel."

  "Why don't you do that, dear?"

  Kate and Molly took Ben to the children's mass at five o'clock on Christmas Eve. Connor's family always had a Christmas Eve open house, and they were there until nine o'clock, at which time they came home and put a very excited Ben to bed.