Emmie asked the question Nealy had been dreading. “I’m not going to get better, am I?”
“If you mean cured, the answer is no. As yet there is no cure for RA. If you mean, will you be able to do mild activity, the answer is yes. You’ll experience bouts of this from time to time. Some will be mild, some will be hellacious like this time. That’s why you have to be monitored carefully. In time you might be able to play a little tennis, go for long walks, swim. I’m sorry the news isn’t better. New medications, new testing is ongoing. Is there anything any of you want to ask me?”
“What about diet and exercise?” Nealy asked.
“I’ll be sending Emmie home with a diet. There are certain foods she’ll have to stay away from, and yes, moderate exercise is necessary. Emmie will have to be the judge of what her body can tolerate. I’ll let her know when the time is right for that to begin. I’ll sign your discharge papers when I make my late-night rounds, and you can leave here around ten tomorrow morning. We’ll want to draw blood before you leave. Everything will be waiting for you at the desk, your prescriptions, your appointment card, and the Do’s and Don’t chart.
“There is one other thing I’d like to discuss with all of you. I want you to listen to me very carefully, Emmie. I want to recommend a rehabilitation center for a while. I think they could get you up and moving faster than home care can. Six months. The only problem is, there are only two or three in the country I would recommend, and they have waiting lists miles long. I’d like to put your name on one of those lists for consideration. The best one is right outside Las Vegas, but your hopes are slim to none of ever getting in there. It’s the best-run facility in the country. I’d like to put your name on that list.”
“Is that the center Fanny Thornton started for her daughter?” Nealy asked, drawing a deep breath.
“Yes, it is. How is it you know about it?”
Nealy smiled. “The Thorntons are family. As a matter of fact, they’re coming on Saturday for a family reunion.”
The doctor threw his hands in the air. “There, you see, it’s a miracle! Think about it, Emmie. It would be just six months out of your life. A good chance to become as whole as your body will allow if they can accommodate you.”
When the door closed behind Dr. Ward, Emmie said, “I’m going to end up like Sunny Thornton. I know it. We can have wheelchair races.” Her voice choked up as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Nealy turned to Hatch, a desperate look on her face. Seeing no help there, she turned back to face her daughter. “I don’t want to hear any more talk like that, young lady. He said to think about it. We will think about it. We can ask Fanny if there’s room for you at the center providing you decide to take that route. You can talk to Sunny and her husband. It’s a thought, Emmie. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“What about Gabby? She needs me. I’m her mother. She won’t understand me deserting her.”
“The young are very resilient. She has school, she has her nanny, and Hatch and I will be at the farm. We can bring her to see you on weekends. Just think about it, Emmie.”
“Okay, Mom, I’ll think about it. Why don’t you go home now? I’m very tired, and I’d like to take a nap.”
“Fine. We’ll go down to the coffee shop and come back in a little while,” Nealy said.
“No, Mom, I don’t want you to come back. Like you said, I need to think about all this. Pick me up in the morning.”
“All right, Emmie, if that’s what you want,” Nealy said.
“It’s what I want. Give Gabby and Hifly a hug for me.”
“I will, but you can do it yourself tomorrow when you get home.”
Nealy leaned over the bed to kiss her daughter’s puffy cheek. She wanted to cry, just the way Emmie wanted to cry. She knew that the moment the door closed behind her, she would howl like a banshee. She knew because she’d lived it.
Neither Nealy nor Hatch spoke until they were in the car heading back to the farm.
“She’s not going to get better, Hatch.”
“Nealy, for God’s sake, didn’t you hear what the doctor said?”
“Of course I heard what he said. You weren’t watching his eyes. I was. If nothing else, I’m an authority on doctors. All you have to do is look at their eyes. The eyes, in case you don’t know it, are the mirror of one’s soul. Dr. Lucas Ward is full of compassion. That’s probably why he became a doctor. The eyes never lie. What they do first is throw you a crumb. Emmie’s crumb is being allowed to go home in a wheelchair and a therapist coming by every day. Then, just when you start to believe that’s the way it’s going to be, they throw in the clinker. Emmie’s clinker is the rehab center. Are you following me, Hatch?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“And guess what? We didn’t even touch on the fear element. That’s a whole other story.”
“Are you for or against the rehab center?” Hatch asked, his eyes on the road in front of him.
“I don’t know. I guess I want whatever is best for my daughter. I have to think long and hard about all of this. Emmie will be looking to me for guidance, and I want to be sure I give her the right advice.”
Emmie leaned back into the pillows the nurse had made a production out of shaking and fluffing. The minute she was gone, she let the tears flow. How in the name of God had she gotten something so devastating? She’d seen that strange look in Dr. Ward’s eyes. He was trying to hold out hope. Mind-set was all-important. The right attitude with lots of good food and plenty of sunshine could work miracles. BullSHIT. She’d heard it all before when her mother was in the hospital burned over a third of her body. They were just words. They said whatever they had to say to get the patient over the worst of it. Dangle the old carrot and then wham, jam home the fact that you’re going to be crippled for life.
Gabby was going to grow up with a handicapped mother. If she was around to raise her. Otherwise, her grandmother would raise her. She thought about Sunny Coleman and how her brother had taken her son Jake to raise because Sunny couldn’t take care of him or his sister. According to her mother, they were happy, well-adjusted kids, and Sunny was happy with the arrangement.
Emmie wiped her eyes on the sleeve of the hospital gown just as the phone rang. She knew who it was even before her swollen hand picked up the receiver. Her hello sounded cautious.
“Emmie?”
“This is Emmie, Willow. Why are you calling me? What’s wrong?”
Willow ignored the question to ask one of her own. “Why are you in the hospital, Emmie?”
“The other night while I was waiting for you to call, I pulled off my boots and my feet started to swell. My hands, too. My back has been hurting me a lot lately, but I thought it was from lifting. I have rheumatoid arthritis. They’ve been doing tests on me since I got here, but I’m going to go home tomorrow and then I’ll probably have to go to a rehab center for therapy. I think my case is what they call advanced and will require extensive therapy. Not that it’s any of your business, Willow. Now, why are you calling me?”
“I need to talk to you, Emmie. Can I come by the hospital this evening?”
“Tell me why. Leaving Nick like that was a terrible thing. How could you do that to him? I don’t want to get involved in your business, Willow. You need to make things right with Nick.”
“I’m in a lot of trouble, Emmie. I need someone to talk to. You and I always got on well, and you were always nice to me. I just want to talk to you. Please say it’s okay to visit with you.”
“I don’t know what I can do for you, but okay. Dinner is usually over by six-fifteen. Come then. Aren’t you going to ask me about Nick?”
“I figured I didn’t have the right to ask about anything where Nick is concerned. Yes, I would like to know how he is.”
“He’s a lawyer now. A very good one with a top-notch firm.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. It’s what he always wanted. He opened up to me, Emmie, told me all his hopes and dream
s and shared his secrets.”
“And what did you share with Nick?” Emmie asked coldly.
“I’ll see you after dinner, Emmie. Can I bring you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
She was just as pretty as Emmie remembered. She also looked wary and frightened. She was dressed in a pale yellow linen dress with matching sandals and string bag. Her straw hat had a wide yellow ribbon around the brim. She took it off, fluffed up her auburn curls, and sat down.
“I’m sorry you’re in here, Emmie. You look . . . awful. I don’t mean you look awful awful. I mean you look sick. Is there anything I can do for you? I know what hospitals are like. The year . . . the year I left, Mom died. She got sick and she just didn’t get better. I used to go to the hospital around noon and stay till after eight. All I could do was sit there and talk to her if she was awake. You’re young, Emmie. They’ll get a handle on it and treat you aggressively. They have nuclear drugs these days, wonder drugs, and all kinds of stuff. I’m certain they have something that will fix you up. I’m babbling, Emmie, and I’m sorry. It’s just that I never know quite what to say when someone is sick.”
Emmie clenched her teeth. Mitch Cunningham would like Willow. The very idea made her angry. “We’ve established that I’m sick. What do you want, Willow? As you can see, I don’t think I can be of any help to you.
“By the way, Nick knows all about that guy you married in Bermuda. He even saw your wedding album. I saw it, too. I guess that means you divorced Nick, huh?”
“No, I didn’t divorce Nick. There are only two things in this world I’m good at. One is cooking, the other is marrying rich men. I’m a bigamist. It’s what I do for a living. I make money at it. It is not an admirable profession. I take everything they shower on me, then I go on to the next mark. There’s no feeling to it at all. I’m not making excuses for myself, I’m telling you like it is.”
“That’s disgusting,” Emmie said.
“Yes, I can see how you would think that. Your mother figured it out real quick. If you stop and think about it, I did Nick a favor by leaving. Think about that, Emmie.”
“You broke his heart, Willow. I can never forgive you for that. Which brings me to my original question, what is it you want from me? How many husbands do you have anyway?”
“They aren’t legal husbands. Nick is my real husband.”
“Nick filed for divorce on the grounds of desertion and bigamy. Hatch and that guy you worked for in Bermuda testified in court. You’re divorced, and it’s legal.”
“I thought Nick would wait for me forever,” Willow said.
“Boy, you don’t know Nick very well. Your charms wore off, Willow.”
Willow twirled the straw hat around and around with her index finger. “I need a good criminal lawyer, Emmie.”
“If you’re thinking Nick’s going to help you, think again. So, don’t even ask.”
“I may be a lot of things, Emmie, but I’m no murderer.”
“Murderer! Who did you murder?” Emmie squealed.
Willow sighed. “I didn’t murder anyone. The authorities think I did, but I didn’t. I was cooking in a big casino in Las Vegas. The one that’s tied to your family. I was living with this high roller. His name was Junior Belez. He had a lot of money, and he was very generous. I was about ready to move on and probably would have in another month or so. He bored me. Anyway, I went home after work one night, and he was lying in the living room. Dead. I didn’t touch a thing. I did check his pulse, and he was still warm. I gathered up my stuff and took off. I drove up to Reno and hung out there for a while. I bought all the papers, listened to all the newscasts, because Junior was news. For months there was nothing. Then I just happened to hear on the news that I was wanted for questioning. I took off and have been hiding out ever since.
“I’ve made a lot of discreet phone calls, and I know where Nick is. His firm has a great criminal department. I want you to call him for me and arrange a meeting. He’ll do it for you, Emmie; but if I call him, he won’t. Please, I need you to do this for me. I didn’t kill Junior. I swear on your mother, Emmie. On my mother and all the saints in heaven. I didn’t do it. My . . . ah . . . lifestyle isn’t exactly going to endear me to the police. I don’t want to go to jail. I like my life.”
Emmie shook her head to clear it. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You must be out of your mind, Willow. I’m not calling Nick for you. You caused him enough heartache. Find yourself another lawyer. They’re a dime a dozen, good ones and bad ones.”
“He’ll be here this weekend for your family reunion. Please, Emmie, arrange a meeting for me. That’s why I came to Kentucky. I know all about the reunion because I heard the Thornton twins talking about it in the dining room one evening. I remembered the conversation because they were talking about going to the Kentucky Derby race the weekend after the family reunion. I swear to you, Emmie, I didn’t kill Junior. He had some weird friends, but I always stayed away from them. I didn’t want to get involved. All I wanted was his money and the presents he gave me. That’s the truth.
“Think about this, Emmie. How would you like to be locked away in a jail cell for something you didn’t do? I’m only thirty-two years old. My whole life is ahead of me. Will you help me?”
“No, Willow, I will not be a party to this. I am not going to mention this to anyone. Not to my mother and certainly not to Nick.”
“Then you leave me with no other choice except to get in touch with your ex-husband. I’ll tell him about Gabby. Oh, yes, I know all about her. All I had to do was go to the courthouse and look it up. Her last name is Coleman. That told me all I needed to know. You told me the day your mother booted you out that you were pregnant. Remember? When he sees the condition you’re in, he’ll snap up the kid in nothing flat. Your mother’s money isn’t going to work. The courts always favor the natural parents, and you never told him about Gabby, now did you? Of course you didn’t. I can see it in your face. Now are you going to help me or not?”
“You are a living, breathing bitch, Willow, whatever your last name is.”
“It’s Clay. Mrs. Willow Bishop Clay. What’s it going to be, Emmie?”
“I can turn you in to the police. I have a phone right here.”
Willow settled the straw hat on her head and tweaked the ribbon that trailed down her back. “Yes, you could do that. I will still call Buddy. If you arrange a meeting for me with Nick, I promise I won’t call him. Gabby will be safe.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You’ll just have to take my word. If Nick doesn’t agree to help me, then I’ll call Buddy. Make sure you tell him that. Tell him to meet me at the Inn on Sunday morning at ten o’clock. Tell him to come alone. If you screw this up, Emmie, it’s bye-bye Gabby.”
“Get out of here. I said I would do it. I don’t ever want to see you again. If you don’t leave, I will call the police.”
Emmie could hear Willow’s laughter as she strolled down the hall to the elevator.
Emmie wanted to beat at her pillow, at her mattress, but her hands were too swollen and hurt too much.
4
Emmie watched the arrival of her family from her wheelchair on the front porch. Hatch had constructed a makeshift ramp for Sunny Thornton and her husband Harry, and she would be using it herself once she got the hang of maneuvering the cumbersome chair. Everyone was smiling. They seemed so happy to be reunited there in Kentucky. Somehow, her mother had cajoled her two uncles to leave SunStar, their farm in Virginia, to join the family reunion, and they would be arriving momentarily.
She watched as the family broke ranks to allow Sunny and Harry to turn their chairs around to head up the ramp.
“Hi, Emmie!” Sunny said cheerily. “I don’t think you’ve met Harry. Emmie, this is Harry. Harry, this is Emmie Coleman. Should we line up or should we disperse ?” Sunny giggled as she waved her arm about. “They’re going to take the tour, so that leaves the three of us alone. Your mom t
hinks the chairs might spook the horses. Oh, you have a manual chair. No, no, no, you need one of these babies,” she said, pointing to the motorized chair she was sitting in. “You can really zip around in these. So, what’s your problem?”
“Rheumatoid arthritis. Aggressive rheumatoid arthritis. The doctors say I’m going to need rehab. At least six months, but for some reason I don’t quite believe that.”
“How long have you had your condition? Mom never said anything about it to me,” Sunny queried. “Gee, this porch is pretty. I love all the flowers and the hanging ferns. Do you spend a lot of time out here? We have a little patio and it’s chock-full of flowers. We can’t take care of them ourselves but that’s okay. We get to sit out there and look at them. We have a lot of hummingbirds, too, that like to sip the nectar.”
She was like a runaway train, Emmie thought. Suddenly she wanted to cry for Sunny and her husband and their disabilities. According to her mother, they were fighters and did everything they could to the limit their bodies would allow. They were both incredibly thin with stick-like legs and arms, their hands crooked and deformed. Sunny used a hook to move the lever on her chair while Harry still had some mobility in his right hand and could maneuver his chair with relative ease.
Kentucky Sunrise Page 7
