The Year of Chasing Dreams

by McDaniel, Lurlene

  Garret reached over, engulfed Eden’s hand in his. “Don’t like seeing the ones I care about hurt. Especially you.”

  “I don’t matter in this.”

  “You matter to me.” He scooted his chair around, butted it up to hers, and put his arms around her. “In Australia there are laws about intermarriage. Some relationships among family members can get away with it. Others can’t. All wound up in genetics, with passing on recessive genes.”

  “Don’t know what the laws are here.” She leaned into his shoulder.

  “I think we should give Ciana and Jon and Mum Alice some space tonight. Don’t you?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded, knowing that all the space in the world wasn’t going to change the circumstances if Alice Faye was the child of Olivia and Roy Soder.

  Ciana came into the trailer, saw her mother sitting at the small bench table and staring at a bottle of gin. All the air left Ciana’s lungs. “Mama? What are you doing?”

  “Thinking hard about how much I want a drink.” Alice Faye looked like a rag doll with hollow eyes.

  “Where did you get it? I thought you’d dumped it all.”

  “I’d hid it in the barn a year ago. Remembered it just this morning after I read the diaries. Image of the hiding place just popped into my mind.” She snapped her fingers.

  Fear clutched Ciana. The gin bottle stood on the table like an accusatory finger. Her mother had been sober for so long, and now it would be Ciana’s fault if she picked up the bottle again. Ciana inched forward, slipped into the folding chair always set up across the table’s bench seat. “Have you—?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Have you called your sponsor?” Ciana reached for her cell. “I can call her.”

  “Stop.”

  Ciana swallowed bile. She was a child again, scared and afraid, seeing her mother slumped over, drunk. Tears filled her eyes. “Mom, please …”

  “Please what? Back off.” Her mother offered a withering stare, making Ciana flinch.

  Ciana had brought Alice Faye the diaries right after Jon had driven off, told her mother the marked pages were a “must read.” Self-loathing filled Ciana. “I should have never given the diaries to you.”

  “Course you should have. Now I know the truth. Isn’t truth supposed to set a person free? I don’t feel free, I feel betrayed. My whole life could be a lie.” Unshed tears gleamed in Alice Faye’s eyes. “How does she keep doing it? How does that old woman keep hurting me? Even from her grave!”

  “Your life’s not a lie, Mom.”

  “The hell it isn’t! I was a Beauchamp, daughter of—who, Ciana? Who am I the daughter of?” She held out her hands as if balancing a scale. “Am I Roy Soder’s daughter? Am I Charles’s daughter? And who in hell was Roy Soder to make such a mess of things?”

  “Mom … don’t …” Ciana pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes. “She—she never meant for things to go the way they did. It was a bad time for her … those nights he came and stayed. The two of them were a time bomb waiting to go off. There were other diaries. Before the storm—You would see …”

  “Well, ain’t that a shame.” Venom filled Alice Faye’s words. “Two people who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.”

  “She got even with him,” Ciana offered desperately. “She bought his farm for back taxes. She took his land. He never forgave her for that.”

  “Not surprised about that either. Olivia’s way. Don’t get mad, get even.” Silence fell between them. The window AC units hummed in the background, worked to cool the muggy interior.

  Ciana searched for a way to build a bridge between herself and her mother. “Roy poisoned Wade against the Beauchamp name too. Jon—” She couldn’t finish.

  Alice Faye looked stricken. “She poisoned all of us, didn’t she? Me and you and Jon. I’m sorry, baby girl. You were the only thing I ever did right for her. For me too.”

  “I—I can’t help what happened way back then, and how things turned out. Neither can you, Mom.”

  Alice Faye leaned back into the vinyl upholstery. “What did Jon say when you told him? He does know, doesn’t he?”

  “I told him. He says he loves me, no matter what.”

  “This is a real mess.” Alice Faye eyed the bottle, making Ciana’s stomach lurch. “I need some time to think.”

  “I … I don’t know if …”

  “If you should leave me alone? Afraid I’ll go on a bender?” She touched the bottle. “Guess that’s why I hid it. Insurance against a bad time that might come on me. Turns out, the sky has fallen in.”

  “You made it through the tornado. To getting Bellmeade up and going again. You take care of us, Mom. I—I don’t want to lose you.”

  Alice Faye studied Ciana. “The tornado didn’t hurt near this bad, little girl.”

  Ciana’s chin trembled. Her mother made a dismissal motion with her fingers. “Go on now. Taking this drink is on me. Nothing you can do to stop me.”

  The rest of the day, Ciana kept herself busy. She went for a long ride. She mucked stalls, groomed horses, was relieved when none of the boarders came to ride. She knew she could never have stood around making small talk with them. She texted Eden, asked her and Garret to come back. They did, but Alice Faye locked everyone out of the trailer. Garret went to town for food that none of them ate. They sat on the ground under the stars by the fire pit and Ciana told them everything that had happened. Garret kept the fire going, but late into the night, Jon had not returned. Garret stood and stretched. “We’ll bed in the camper. You have the loft to yourself.”

  Eden stood next to him, dragged Ciana up, too, hugged her friend. “Just holler if you need me. He’ll come back,” she told Ciana.

  “Course he will. His horse is still here.”

  Garret gave her shoulders a brotherly squeeze. “No … his heart is still here.”

  Ciana took one last walk around the yard, Soldier by her side, then climbed into the loft. The sleeping bag had been replaced by a large air mattress and was made up like a bed. She crawled under the covers, lay awake in the dark, waiting for the sound of Jon’s truck. It never came.

  Early the next morning, Ciana went to the trailer. Her heart sank. No smells of cooking breakfast came from inside. She thought back to the hundreds of mornings throughout her childhood she’d been lured into the kitchen by the aromas of coffee and her mother’s baking biscuits. She blew out a breath, went inside. All was dark and the back bedroom door was closed. She turned on lights, went to the fridge, stared inside, realized she’d gag if she ate anything.

  Minutes later Eden and Garret came inside to see her sitting at the table and staring into space. “Mom not up?” Eden asked.

  “Doesn’t seem like it.”

  Eden crossed her arms. “I think I can whip us up something. I’ve watched her make biscuits a hundred times.”

  “Have at it.”

  “I’ll do the coffee,” Garret said.

  No one mentioned that Jon’s truck was still missing.

  Eden did a passable job of the biscuits along with a serving bowl filled with scrambled eggs. They were almost finished when they heard the click of the locked bedroom turn. Alice Faye shuffled down the hall. Ciana peered at her anxiously. Her mother’s face looked puffy.

  “Coffee?” Garret asked as she slid into a seat at the tiny table.

  “Okay.” Tension hung like crepe paper. “Stop staring at me,” she said. “I’m not a time bomb.”

  “Are you …?” Ciana said.

  “All right? No. Yesterday I wanted to go far away. But where would I go? Town’s still tore up. Bellmeade is all I’ve ever known. Jackson was right when he said we should have moved away after we were married.” She shook her head. “Olivia wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Mom—”

  She held up her hand. “Need to work the garden today. Weeds grow no matter what’s going on.”

  “I’ll help,” Eden said, more eagerly than necessary.

  “Y
ou make good biscuits?”

  “Great,” Garret said, placing one on a fresh plate for Alice Faye.

  “I had a good teacher,” Eden said.

  “I’ll try one.”

  Ciana stood awkwardly, at loose ends, but knowing she had the day’s chores ahead of her. “Horses need tending.”

  “Get to it, then.” Alice Faye dribbled honey on her biscuit. “I’ll fix chili for supper.”

  Ciana wanted to touch her mother, but held back. Her mother might be hurting, but she understood that farm life went on no matter what. They were all hurting. And where in the hell was Jon?

  Hours later she had cleaned the stalls and put the horses out to the pasture, and was returning from a hard ride on Firecracker with Soldier at her side. Gratefully, Garret had taken Caramel for a workout at the track. She rode up just as a horse trailer pulled into her driveway and stopped alongside the barn. The dog took off barking furiously at the truck’s cab and the man inside. She didn’t recognize the truck or trailer. She groaned, not wanting to face any visitors, wondered if it might be another of her boarders come to remove a horse along with another hit to her bottom line. Ciana called off the dog, cantered up to the cab. She dipped downward, saw the driver, was taken aback. “You!”

  Enzo’s man, the one who worked for him in Italy, smiled up at her. “It is I, Alberto.”

  She quickly dismounted. “Well, hey! Welcome. Is … is Enzo back in Nashville?”

  “No, signorina. Mr. Bertinalli has sent me to make a delivery.”

  “To Bellmeade?”

  He hopped out of the cab, ignoring the dog, and walked to the back of the trailer. He opened the gate, went inside, and moments later emerged with a beautiful colt. The horse was jet-black, and she could tell he was young. Alberto took the halter rope, held it out to her. “Per te. From the Bertinalli stables to yours. A gift.”

  “A gift? Why?” Ciana stared at Alberto in disbelief, refusing to take the rope.

  The man looked confused. “Signore Bertinalli heard about your misfortune with the tornado. He also has told me you will be starting a new business training horses. He wishes you to have this yearling.”

  “This horse must be worth thousands. I—I can’t simply take him.”

  “But of course you can. He is a gift.”

  “You came all the way from Italy to give me this horse?”

  Alberto laughed. “I was sent to deliver another horse to a gentleman in Nashville, too, but this horse is for you. He has been through the quarantine period.”

  Mallory’s father, Ciana thought.

  Alberto patted the horse’s muscled neck. “He is a fine horse.”

  “I can see that.” The horse had locked his attention onto Firecracker.

  “Signore Bertinalli said that he does not know from the wild mustangs you plan to bring in, but that this horse is of old and noble blood—Calabrese, Andalusian, and Arabian—the product of many years of careful breeding. We call him Notte Vento, Night Wind, but you may name him as you see fit.”

  Still she hesitated. “His name is beautiful. Enzo is too kind.”

  “Signore Bertinalli is a generous man. He is able to do as he pleases, and it will please him for you to receive his gift.”

  Again he handed the halter rope to Ciana. This time she took it. “I don’t know what to say.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the sculpted animal.

  Alberto reached through the window of the truck, picked up a large, flat envelope. “These are his papers and a note from Signore Bertinalli. Shall I tell him you are pleased?”

  “Very pleased. Very honored.” She stroked the animal’s sleek back. “I will write Enzo, tell him of my joy. Thank you.”

  Alberto smiled, bowed his head slightly. “I will leave you then.”

  “But … but I should give you some tea …” She fumbled with words, felt her face redden. She had nothing to offer him in return. The Lincoln was gone so her mother and Eden must have gone into town.

  Alberto shook his head. “No, no. I must return quickly. My plane is scheduled for later tonight.” He opened the door of the truck and got inside. “Oh, one thing. I hope your Italian is good. Notte understands only Italian.” He grinned mischievously. “But he learns quickly. Like Alberto.” He saluted her and backed the truck and trailer up, made a wide arc, and followed the driveway to the frontage road.

  Ciana’s heart thudded and brimmed with gratitude watching him go. Finally she turned to the horse. “Venire.” Come. She led the colt to a stall in the barn, poured some oats into the feeding bin, and hoped that Eden remembered way more Italian than she did.

  After supper Ciana, her mother, and friends came to the barn to marvel at the colt. “Don’t know much about horses,” Garret said, “but even I can see this one is fine!”

  Eden spoke to Notte in Italian, and the animal pricked up its ears. “Got to brush up. I just told Notte he’s beautiful and to sleep well. Don’t know any horse language.”

  Jon did, but he was still missing—two full days and a night. After Eden and Garret left, Alice Faye lingered. “He’ll come back.”

  “Don’t know if I care,” Ciana said, angry and anxious. “We didn’t run off.”

  “Would have if I could have.” Alice Faye studied her daughter. “What do you want to do with the diaries?”

  Ciana wanted to burn them. “Nothing just now.”

  “Any ideas how to fix this mess?”

  “Not just yet.”

  “Let me know when you do.”

  Before her mother could leave, Ciana blurted, “Do you think Roy knew? Ever wondered about Olivia’s baby?”

  Alice Faye took her time answering. “The diary says the man left for Texas that spring. Growing a baby takes nine months, and it’s a fact that after a man lies with a woman, he can’t count, so, no, I don’t think he ever knew.”

  “She must have lived in fear that he might one day meet up with you and wonder.”

  “My mother feared nothing, except maybe losing you.” Alice Faye turned and left the barn, leaving Ciana alone in the gloom to wonder over the war between these two women for her allegiance.

  That night Ciana again slept fitfully, dreamed of Italy and of riding Enzo’s property that morphed into hers. Just before dawn, she woke with a start, saw a figure sitting cross-legged beside her mattress. She gasped, drew backward.

  “It’s me. Don’t be scared.” Jon’s voice came softly from the dark.

  She raised up, fully awake. She now saw him silhouetted against the loft’s open area, etched against a graying sky. “You okay?”

  “Better than I was when I left.”

  Anger boiled up. “You left me alone. You told me before that you’d never leave me and you did!”

  “For that I’m sorry.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Just drove west on autopilot. I was in Memphis before I realized it. Drove on over to Arkansas. Got a room and a bar tab. Slept it off, started back late yesterday and drove all night.”

  “You. Left. Me.” Her chin quivered.

  He rose up on his knees. “Let me hold you.”

  She swatted at him. He caught her hands, gently laid her down on her side, wrapped her in his arms, spooned his body behind hers. She struggled, but not hard, nor for long. He felt so good pressed against her, his warm breath on the nape of her neck. She wanted to cry, but held off.

  “Do you know the first thing I remembered when I came out of that coma?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You. It was like you were in my bloodstream, and firing off so much information I could hardly handle it. I knew what your skin felt like under my hands. What your hair smelled like. You were my link to my past, a key. Other stuff came real slow, but not you, Ciana. You were fully there.”

  She wept quietly.

  “I’ll never leave again. I swear. I don’t know how all this is going to turn out. I just know I love you and need to be with you, no matter what.”

  Her need for him was just as strong. “
Morning’s coming soon.”

  “Then just let me lie here with you until it does.”

  They came down from the loft when the sky streaked gold and pink. The day was promising to be hot and humid. In the barn, the horses shuffled, neighed with Jon’s scent. He held Ciana’s hand, glanced over at the stalls, drew up short. “Whoa. What have we here?” He crossed to the stall that held the new colt.

  “He’s a yearling named Notte. A gift from Enzo.”

  Jon pulled back from Ciana, then his gaze swept the horse. “Any strings?”

  She arched an eyebrow at Jon. “Tornado booty,” she said coolly. “He’s being thoughtful and nice and thought Notte might eventually add quality to your breeding and training business.”

  Jon’s eyes narrowed, then relaxed. “A few years before we can begin breeding him. In the meantime, he eats.”

  Testily she said, “I’ll plant more alfalfa and corn. Beauty of owning a farm.”

  Jon looked contrite, gave Ciana a nod. “Beautiful horses. Beautiful women. The man has a good eye for both.”

  They went into the trailer together, faced the others. Jon apologized for leaving. “Back now,” Garret said. “Good thing. Someone’s bringing a horse out for you to look over and maybe board here.”

  Jon poured himself a cup of coffee, squeezed in at the table. The atmosphere was subdued. Finally Alice Faye set out a plate of pastries, and said, “We all know what’s happened, so maybe we should talk about it. Problem’s not going away.”

  Jon’s arm slid around Ciana’s shoulders. “Suggestions?”

  Garret and Eden exchanged looks. “Spent some time surfing the Web and learned some things,” he told them.

  “What things?” Ciana asked.

  “You three”—he looked from Ciana to Jon and to Alice Faye—“have something at the ready that your grandmother never had. One of the perks of living in the twenty-first century. We have DNA testing. You can be tested and find out if you’re related.”