My Daughter's Legacy

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “Takes one to know one,” he said. “And if I had my way, I’d be the only one here.”

  I was astounded at his words. “Look, buddy, I’ve been sober for a year and a half.”

  “Yeah?” He flipped the tag around so I could see the words on the back, Clean and Serene for Fifteen. “That’s years, Talbot. Fifteen years.”

  I shook my head, trying to understand this exchange. Nate looked to be in his early thirties, which meant he’d become an addict at a young age but then sobered up in his teens and stayed that way. Good for him, though what that had to do with me, I hadn’t a clue.

  “Just say what you’re trying to say,” I insisted.

  He hit the button to unlock the truck and then slid the keys into his pocket. “I don’t hire addicts when I can help it, no matter how long they’ve been sober. You know the stats. The relapse rate is forty to sixty percent. I’m sorry, but those aren’t odds I’m willing to play.”

  Odds I’m willing to play? At least that answered one question. His frequent trips to the racetrack were to gamble, which meant that, fifteen years drug-free or not, all he’d done was trade one addiction for another. Sure enough, I’d known this guy was bad news the moment I met him.

  “So if that’s your policy,” I said, my tone even, “why did I get this job?”

  “Because interns are hired by the therapist, not by me.”

  And that was it, the reason he’d grown hostile when he first realized I was the new intern. He didn’t have anything against equine therapy. He just had something against me.

  That also explained how he knew about my past, because I’d gotten this job primarily on the recommendation of a therapist from my former drug rehab facility. As I neared the end of the program, she’d been enthusiastic about my plan to major in psychology and had helped me narrow down several local options for an internship this summer. I’d given her permission to ask around on my behalf and even share some of the details of my story if need be. Apparently, not only had she told the therapist here, but for some reason the therapist had then felt compelled to share that information with Nate.

  “Regardless,” he said, swinging open the door and climbing into the truck’s cab, “you got the job. There’s nothing I can do about it now, so whatever. You say you’ll stick around? Good. I hope you do.”

  “But you don’t expect me to.”

  He met my eyes and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, almost sounding like he meant it. “I’d love to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I’ve been burned more times than you can imagine. After a while, you learn to expect the worst of people. It’s just easier that way.”

  That night, Maddee had a date with Greg, so for the first time since moving in, I had the house to myself for an entire evening. I’d picked up Chinese takeout and a tub of Cherry Garcia in preparation, and ordinarily, I would’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet. But as I sat on the sofa in the glow of the television, ice cream in hand, I was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness.

  Was Nate right? Was I going to fall in with the statistics? After all my hard work, everything I’d been through, was I destined to fail in the end? I certainly hoped not, but how could I know for sure?

  I hadn’t been this uncertain of my sobriety in a long time, and it unnerved me.

  “You know the routine,” I said aloud, reaching for my phone and dialing my sponsor, Riley, just as I’d been taught to do. My call went straight to voice mail, however, so I hung up without leaving a message.

  I tried to go back to my show, but that didn’t work. I just sat there growing more and more upset and agitated until finally, with a loud groan, I grabbed my phone and did a quick Google check to verify what I already knew. Then I flipped off the TV, put away my food, and headed to the Episcopal Church on Monument Avenue. I hadn’t been to an NA meeting in ages, but I knew enough to admit that I needed one tonight.

  Otherwise, the weekend passed uneventfully, and on Monday I enjoyed a real change of pace at work when one of the year-round staff members called in sick and I was assigned to take her place. Despite spending all day, every day with horses, I didn’t really get to ride them much, so I jumped at the chance. One of this other staff member’s main duties was to exercise the animals when their owners were out of town or otherwise unavailable to do it themselves.

  Today there were three such horses, and I had the option of riding them in the exercise ring, in one of the pastures, or along the trail. I chose the trail, eager to take the long, meandering path that looped for more than a mile around some of the prettiest parts of the farm.

  First up was Queenie, a stunning palomino mare with beautiful brown eyes and a sassy attitude. Once I had her saddled and ready to go, I led her to the trailhead, climbed on, and started her out at a walk, moving down the path under a thick canopy of trees. After a long straightaway, we found ourselves curving around to the right, where the path began to run alongside Dover Creek. As I moved Queenie into a trot, I found myself relaxing with her, allowing her movements to become mine, and I felt a surge of pure joy.

  I thought of Friday night’s NA meeting and how glad I was that I’d gone. I never understood why something so simple could make such a difference, but it did. By the time we’d gathered in a circle for the closing prayer, my head was totally back in a good space.

  I’d decided that Nate Harrison was not going to derail my sobriety no matter what he thought or said or did. He may be, physically speaking, the man of my dreams, but otherwise he was my worst nightmare. I didn’t need his kind of pessimism, and from here on out, my plan was to steer clear as much as possible.

  Today I felt doubly confident because it just happened to be my six-hundredth day of sobriety. I was past the point of counting, really, but when one of the speakers had dragged on a little too long the other night and I found myself getting bored, I had decided to calculate where I stood and was startled to realize I was nearing this milestone.

  Smiling now, I thought of the surprise party Maddee had thrown for me when I was staying with her the last time and had managed to make it to “thirty meetings in thirty days.” Now I was at six hundred days, a far greater accomplishment, but there would be no big party. I probably wouldn’t even mention it to her. This was different, almost private, an accomplishment I would mark with humility and silent prayers of gratitude.

  Or so I thought, until my workday was over and I saw I had a message from Riley. She’d seen my missed call the other night and got back to me first thing the next morning, fearing I’d needed her and she hadn’t been there for me. We’d chatted for a while, and I had mentioned the six hundred days thing. Now she had texted to say that big plans were in the making.

  Okay, Miss Sober-for-600! To celebrate, I reserved a court at the Petersburg YMCA for 7 tonight, put the word out to the girls, and it looks like 4 can make it. With you and me that’s 6, so we can play 3 on 3. Let me know if that works for you!

  Grinning, I texted her back right away and told her I would absolutely be there. With school out, the team felt so scattered, but I had to remind myself that most of us were from Virginia. And if anybody could pull together those who lived in this general region of the state, it was Riley.

  The night ended up being a blast and the highlight of my week—at least until that Friday, when something even bigger and better came along.

  It started on Thursday, actually, when I got a text from Greg. He wanted to know if I was free on Friday evening and could I help him out with something at the carriage house around six. I told him that was fine, but according to the whiteboard, Maddee had a late appointment and wouldn’t be home till seven that night.

  I know. See you at 6. Mum’s the word.

  When Friday arrived, I could hardly contain my curiosity—or my excitement once Greg showed up and explained the plan. I helped him fill the downstairs with a huge load of flowers and candles we carried in from his car, and then, at his request, I tinkered with my sister’s whiteboard, emulating her handwriting as best
I could.

  At 6:50 I got ready to leave so they could be alone, but Greg wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Please stay. She’ll want you here for this, and so do I. Besides, if it weren’t for you, Nicole, Maddee and I might never even have met.”

  Blinking back tears, I busied myself with adjusting some of the flowers. My accident had brought them together, literally. A verse from the Bible came to mind: In all things God works for the good of those who love him. He sure did.

  By the time I saw Maddee coming up the walk, Greg and I had managed to light every single candle, and the place was aglow. I was on window duty, and as soon as I whispered, “There she is,” he went and stood in the middle of the room, facing the door.

  “What is this?” she cried as she stepped inside. Once she’d taken everything in, her face broke into a radiant smile. “Aww. You remembered our year-and-a-half anniversary!”

  She put down her things and threw her arms around her boyfriend to give him a long hug. Over her shoulder, Greg shot me a wink, and it was all I could do to sit there quietly as I watched his plan unfold.

  “I think there might be more going on tonight than just our anniversary,” Greg said as they pulled apart. “You’d better check your whiteboard.”

  Maddee’s smile faded. “Oh, no. I didn’t forget an appointment of some kind, did I?”

  She crossed the room to where it hung on the wall, and as her back was to Greg, he stepped closer and then lowered himself to one knee.

  Maddee read aloud, quickly, matter-of-factly, “Friday, May 19, 9:00 to 6:45 work, 7:00 p.m. home, proposal from Greg, 8:00 p.m. reservations for dinner date—” She stopped. “Wait. What?” She hesitated, went back, and read more slowly this time, “7:00 p.m. home, proposal from Greg…”

  With a gasp, she spun around, and there he was, still on his knee, open ring box in hand, asking her to be his wife. Her reaction was so precious, so wholehearted, so over-the-top emphatically yes that I don’t know who was laughing and crying more, her or him or me.

  By the time he slipped that ring onto her finger, I was scrambling for tissues and thinking to myself that even if their union was the only good thing to come out of all of the pain and suffering of my accident, it still would have been totally worth it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Nicole

  There’s one thing you need to fit in this weekend,” I told Maddee the next morning when I saw her at the kitchen table, scribbling out a new to-do list, “assuming you can find time between bouts of staring at the ring on your finger, scrolling through bridal Pinterest boards, and calling everyone you know to tell them your big news.”

  She grinned. “Better watch the sarcasm, little sis. Remember, I have the final say on bridesmaids’ dresses.”

  “Meaning…” I crossed to the fridge to grab some juice.

  “Meaning the more you tease me, the more I’m willing to consider fuchsia-and-lime-green taffeta with a giant matching bow for your hair.”

  I pulled out the carton and reached for a glass. “An empty threat,” I scoffed. “You have such fashion sense, you couldn’t make me look ugly if you tried.”

  “Good thing I don’t have to try.”

  I laughed.

  “So what is it I need to fit in?” she asked, returning her attention to her list.

  “A visit with Nana.”

  Maddee looked up again, her smile fading. We hadn’t seen or talked to our grandmother for a good ten days, not since the night when we were there with Harold and Gabe. That evening had ended awkwardly, without any sort of answers or resolution and not even a goodbye hug. Instead, Nana had simply returned empty handed from her trip to the kitchen for tea, announced that she wasn’t feeling well and needed to get on to bed, and then saw the four of us to the door. She hadn’t contacted either Maddee or me since, not by phone or text or even email. For a woman who was usually part of the near-daily chatter of our lives, her silence had created a weird void.

  “I guess you’re right,” Maddee said, accepting the inevitable. “We’re going to have to make peace with her eventually, or at least form a truce.”

  “Hopefully the news of your engagement will make it a little easier. At least it’ll give us something to focus on.”

  “True.” She thought for a moment. “Okay. Why don’t I tell her I have a surprise to share with her and that I’m wondering if she might be free for lunch tomorrow after church? I’ll suggest a restaurant, but knowing her, she’ll insist on eating at her place.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, not looking forward to it but glad at least that we had a plan. “Why don’t you have Greg come too? He and Nana have always gotten along, but if he’s really going to be a part of this family, you might as well throw him into the deep end now.”

  Just as I’d hoped, lunch with our grandmother on Sunday wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it could’ve been, thanks to the distraction of my sister’s engagement. Nana was over-the-moon excited when they told her, though we could tell she had guessed at what Maddee’s big surprise was going to be. She’d had the household staff lay out a beautiful spread in the dining room, a celebratory brunch complete with almond-crusted caramel French toast and scrambled eggs topped with smoked salmon and crème fresh.

  Greg looked totally dreamy—Maddee’s term, but I agreed—in a crisp dark suit, one I felt sure Maddee had picked out for him. She was all dressed up too, and the glow in her eyes made her even more gorgeous than usual. Though I didn’t have a handsome man at my side or a big rock on my finger, I had taken the time to do my hair and makeup for the occasion. Considering the tremendous difference in height between my model-tall sister and short little me, we couldn’t exactly share clothes, but she had spruced up one of my few dresses with some of her accessories.

  Fortunately, Nana was on her best behavior, oohing and ahhing over the ring, sharing the story of her own engagement, and even offering the use of her estate for the wedding.

  “There’s no obligation,” she added, “but I just want you two to know that it’s an option. You’re welcome to have it here if you’d like, inside or out. Or both.”

  “Thank you, Nana,” Maddee said. “We haven’t even thought about a date yet, much less a venue, but we’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

  “Of course,” Nana replied. With a wink to me, she added in a faux whisper, “I suppose this is the part where we pretend she also hasn’t picked out a dress or a honeymoon destination or the names of their first three children.”

  We all burst out laughing, even Maddee, though her cheeks turned a vivid red. Anyone who knew my sister knew she’d been planning for this her whole life.

  As our meal continued, conversation turned to my final grades for the semester, which I’d gotten the day before and forwarded along to my benefactress. I’d already known what they were going to be, but it had still been fun to see the row of A’s and then a box down at the bottom listing my GPA as 4.0.

  “I’m just so proud of you,” Nana said now, beaming. “I always knew you could do it.”

  “It’s not exactly Harvard, Nana,” I said, feeling the heat in my cheeks as I ladled more syrup onto my French toast.

  “Silver Lake University is a perfectly good school.”

  “True, but for reasons other than academics. Don’t get me wrong. I love it there. But it wasn’t all that hard to make the grade. Literally.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Nana scolded. “Regardless of the academic rigors, or lack thereof, I would claim those grades with pride. What was that old quote your grandfather used to say? ‘Education is the key to unlocking the golden door of freedom’?”

  Maddee and I both nodded, remembering. Granddad had always been really big on education.

  “Well, thanks, Nana,” I said. “That means a lot coming from you.”

  Eager to change the subject, I was about to bring up the elephant in the room when Nana did it herself. Out of the blue, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, set it in her lap,
and announced in an earnest voice that she was so, so sorry for keeping quiet about the mysterious phone call she overheard our grandfather make after we found the dead body in the cabin.

  “It’s so easy to lie to oneself,” she added, staring into the distance. “For years, even. But now that the truth has finally come out, I’m realizing more and more the damage I did by keeping it in. I do hope you girls will find it in your hearts to forgive me someday.”

  Of course, after such a heartfelt apology, Maddee and I both rushed to our grandmother with open arms, where we became an instant jumble of tears and hugs. Nana wasn’t totally off the hook for what she’d done, but at least the lines of communication were open again.

  When I retook my seat, I glanced over at Greg, who’d been watching the scene with a wry smile on his lips.

  “You sure you want to be a part of this family?” I teased with a grin.

  He looked from me to Nana to Maddee and replied, “You better believe it. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

  After that, talk turned to the much lighter subject of next month’s family reunion, and I was pleased and surprised when Nana mentioned, in a nod to me, that this year she’d added a volleyball court to the rental setup. In turn, we told her that we’d been trying to talk Renee and Danielle into coming early so we could have a little extra “cousin time” together before the festivities kicked in.

  “Oh, and I’ve already arranged to have Thursday and Friday of that week off from work,” Maddee added.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “Speaking of work.” Nana turned my way. “I keep meaning to ask how you like working for Nate Harrison.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nate Harrison. Isn’t he the one in charge over there at Dover Creek Farms?”

  “Yes, he is. You’ve met him?”

  Nana took a sip of her coffee, swallowed, and then slowly set her cup down again. “Oh yes, such a lovely young man. We’ve known each other for years.”