Kentucky Woman

by Mike J. Brogan

  “Guess who was in this suite one day,” Quinn said.

  “Who?”

  “Queen Elizabeth.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Queen For A Day,” a man behind her said. “An old TV show back before you two guys were born!”

  Ellie turned and saw a tall handsome man and woman in their early fifties smiling at her.

  “Mom, Dad … meet Ellie Stuart.”

  Quinn’s mother was an attractive woman with thick brown hair that framed soft brown eyes, a butter-smooth complexion and a warm, relaxed smile. Her beige dress showcased her trim figure. His father had a tall athletic build, like Quinn, and looked distinguished in a blue blazer, tan slacks and blue shirt.

  “Nice to meet you, Ellie,” he said. “This is Hannah and I’m Jack Parker.”

  Ellie shook hands, but her knees kept on shaking.

  “It’s good to meet you, Ellie,” Jack Parker said.

  “It’s real nice to meet youall.”

  “I hear Quinn spilled coffee on you,” Mrs. Parker said.

  “Yes, ma’am, he sure did.”

  Jack Parker smiled. “He also said you earned a full scholarship to U of L, and plan to attend law school.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, good for you, Ellie!”

  A little man with red suspenders tugged Mr. Parker’s sleeve, then pointed at the TV monitor.

  “Jack, look at these new odds on #6, Auntie Billy!”

  Jack Parker looked and seemed surprised.

  “Come on, Ellie,” Mrs. Parker said, “how’s about we girl-talk a little before the Derby.”

  “I’d love that, ma’am.” I think ….

  Hannah Parker led Ellie over to the corner where they sat in beige leather chairs facing each other. Ellie was nervous, and prepared herself for a serious inquisition from Mrs. Parker.

  But suddenly, an Angel of the Lord appeared with a tray of mint juleps. Mrs. Parker took one and sipped. Ellie took one and sucked like an Oreck until the bourbon calmed her a bit.

  “Ellie, you a Kentucky girl?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where from?”

  Ellie paused. “I’m from ah … go ahead and say it … I’m from way down in itty bitty Harlan.” There – she exposed the big bad secret. Got it out of the way. She watched for some hint of disapproval or condescension in Mrs. Parker’s eyes, but saw only a warm smile.

  “Well, I’ll swan, Ellie … .”

  “What?”

  “We’re neighbors.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “I’m from ittier-bittier Flat Lick.”

  My God, Ellie thought, she’s from an even smaller town than I am!

  “Your folks still live down there, Ellie?”

  “Well, no, ma’am.” She paused. “Actually, I was adopted as an infant by the Stuarts. They were wonderful parents.”

  “Were …?”

  Ellie felt the old pain, took a breath. “They died in a boating accident when I was sixteen.”

  “Oh my …” Hannah Parker’s eyes dimmed and she placed her hand on Ellie’s. “My momma died when I was seventeen. Cancer. So hard to lose a parent when you’re young.”

  Ellie nodded.

  “Did you ever try to find your birth parents?”

  Ellie paused. “Well actually, Quinn’s been helping me with that. We discovered who my mother was, but learned she died in a car accident when I was three months old. The Stuarts adopted me then.”

  “Good Lord, how awful.” Mrs. Parker shook her head. “Any luck finding your daddy?”

  “Not yet, ma’am. But Quinn’s helping with that, too.”

  “Well, good luck, hon.”

  Her concern was genuine. Clearly, she knew nothing about the extremely remote possibility of her relationship to Leland Radford. And she seemed to accept her as she was, and not comparing her to Jennifer. Ellie felt an unexpected, sense of calm wash over her, and it wasn’t just the mint julep.

  Suddenly – the bugle blared over the loudspeakers.

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN … THE HORSES ARE

  ENTERING THE TRACK ….”

  “Come on, Ellie, it’s show time!” Mrs. Parker took Ellie’s hand and led her through the guests to the big window with a bird’s-eye view of the finish line below, clearly one of the best views in Churchill Downs. Ellie read that one Derby seat in a private suite like this cost four thousand dollars or more.

  Quinn walked over to her.

  She whispered in his ear. “It’s good to know a Saudi prince.”

  “True. Nice chat with mom?”

  “The best!”

  “Everyone thinks you’re beautiful!”

  “Everyone’s drunk.”

  They watched the sixteen magnificent thoroughbreds prance along the manicured dirt track. Even the horses seemed to sense this race was special.

  Then she heard it, Stephen Foster’s hypnotic melody.

  OH … THE … SUN SHINES BRIGHT … ON

  MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME …

  And one hundred sixty thousand people began to sing along … and within seconds, thousands of eyes, including hers, began to moisten.

  As she sang, her throat tightened and she dabbed a tear. She was caught up in everything: the enchanting melody, her love of the Derby, the beautiful horses glistening in the sun, the joy of learning about her birth mother, and, of course, the happiness of being with Quinn. She was slowly and cautiously, but most certainly, falling in love with him … something that filled her with joy, but in some perverse way, terrified her. And she knew why. Everyone she’d ever loved, was no longer alive … and by drawing closer to him each day, she feared she might somehow be increasing the likelihood of something bad happening to him.

  An absurd fear, of course.

  Or was it?

  The starter’s gun popped and echoed across the track.

  SIXTY FOUR

  “And they’re off!”

  The powerful three-year-old thoroughbreds bolted from the gates and sprinted down the track.

  People screamed at their favorites as though the horses were listening to them. Again, the loud crowd roar dinged her eardrums.

  She marveled at how the muscular animals galloped at nearly forty miles per hour without tangling their hooves, and how the jockeys melted into the horses’ backs.

  “And heading into the first turn, Scottish

  Mist, the favorite, leads by half a length …

  followed by Bluegrass Lady and Big Bad

  Tom … .”

  “Are we having fun yet?” Quinn whispered in her ear.

  “Yes, thanks to you.”

  He held her hand as they watched the horses finish the first half-mile. A mile and a quarter to go. Scottish Mist led by a length and a half, followed closely by five other horses. Mr. Parker’s horse, Auntie Billy, was near the back of the pack. Some jockeys started using the whip. The leaders were pulling ahead.

  “ … they’re at the top of the stretch … .”

  Thirty seconds later, on the far outside track, she saw a large chestnut horse, Auntie Billy, breeze past two horses near the middle of the pack. He started gaining on the leaders who didn’t see him coming.

  … “They’re turning for the home stretch … and here they come, Scottish Mist in the lead … Bluegrass Lady close behind, followed by Big Bad Tom, and on the far outside, staying away from the pack, is Auntie Billy moving up smartly … and now … hang on to your hats folks … Auntie Billy is turning on the jets, blazing past Big Bad Tom and Bluegrass Lady and closing fast on the leader, Scottish Mist as they race toward the finish line thirty yards away! …

  The crowd roared even louder.

  And here’s the finish – they’re neck and

  neck, stride for stride and …

  … Auntie Billy wins by a nose!”

  “Hot damn!” Jack Parker shouted, waving his Auntie Billy ticket. “I just won eight hundred fifty bucks! Free drinks on me!”
<
br />   “The drinks are already free, dad.”

  “Then make ‘em doubles!”

  Ellie was so excited she almost didn’t feel her phone vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw Jessica Bishop on Caller ID. She showed Quinn. He led her into the suite restroom and closed the door so she could hear. She punched the speakerphone button.

  “Hey, Jessie. What’s up?”

  “The lab director just called. He did me a gimongous favor.”

  “What?”

  “Rescheduled all his work so he could finish your four DNA tests today!”

  “How’d you get him to – ?”

  “- promised him my sexual favors.”

  “That’s all it took?”

  “Hurry back here smart ass! I’ll have your results in an hour.”

  “To your lab?”

  “No. To the Fayette County District Court here. A clerk I know is there today. She’ll witness the results.”

  Ellie looked at Quinn who nodded.

  “We’re on the way!”

  They hung up, stepped back into the suite and explained to his parents why they were leaving. Mrs. Parker smiled and took Ellie’s hand in hers.

  “Ellie, can you join us for dinner next Sunday?”

  Ellie swallowed a lump. “Yes, ma’am, I’d like that very much.”

  “Let’s go,” Quinn said. “Mom, Dad, thanks for everything.”

  He opened the door and froze.

  Jennifer DuBois stood there.

  She looked drop dead stunning in a cobalt blue dress and matching blue Derby Party hat. Her white pearl necklace cost a year’s tuition. She smiled at Quinn.

  “Quinny, I heard you were in here, so I had to come by and say hi.” Jennifer stepped in and kissed his cheek.

  “Hi, Jenn,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “You remember Ellie.”

  “Sure …” Jennifer’s expression suggested she’d rather see Ellie down on the track being trampled.

  “Actually, Jenn,” he said, “we’re just rushing back to Lexington to pick up some important legal documents. Sorry we can’t stay and chat.”

  Jennifer’s face scrunched up in a pout. “Okay, but call me tomorrow. I’ve been rethinking things …”

  “Oh …?”

  “Yeah. Promise to call?”

  “Ah … okay,” Quinn said, rushing Ellie out the door and down the hall.

  “Jennifer’s folks have permanent seats in Millionaire’s Row just down the hall. And Jennifer loves horses.”

  “Quinn …”

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s not all she loves.”

  SIXTY FIVE

  After breaking the Louisville-to-Lexington land speed record, Quinn parked on Limestone Street next to the Fayette County District Court.

  Ellie looked up at the modern, massive, four-story building. “Very impressive.”

  “Impressive workload handled here,” Quinn said. “All county legal activity, including circuit court, criminal and civil, probate, records – and just maybe some lucky DNA test results!”

  “Lucky? According to Jessica, we should think lottery winner!”

  “But still worth the try, right?”

  “Right,” Ellie said, even though she knew there was a miniscule chance, most would say ridiculously impossible chance, that this test would contradict the four other DNA tests that proved scientifically she was not Leland Radford’s daughter. DNA doesn’t lie. The guys on death row are proof.

  But for some reason, Jessica had insisted they try this very rare, very-slim-chance test with a very fat price: one thousand dollars! I’ll be paying Quinn back for the rest of my life.

  But if I hadn’t tried the test, I’d wonder about the results the rest of my life.

  They walked into the courthouse lobby and Ellie saw Jessica chatting with a short middle-aged woman. Jessica’s face revealed nothing as she waved them over.

  “Hey guys, meet Nancy Baines,” Jessica said. “Nancy works here at the court. She’ll witness the test results.”

  Ellie and Quinn shook hands with the smiling brunette with large glasses and an American flag pin on her flowery dress. Her rosy cheeks reminded Ellie of the lady who baked apple pies in her grade school cafeteria.

  “Y’all ready?” Nancy asked.

  Everyone nodded.

  “Just follow me.” Nancy led the group down to a small meeting room where they settled around an oak conference table. Wall paintings depicted two Derby winners, Whirlaway and Citation in large, beautiful gold frames. Below them were two judges in cheap wood frames. Horses get top billing in Kentucky.

  Ellie’s throat was chalk-dry as Jessica unfolded a portable three-foot-long light box. She placed it on a wall ledge, plugged it in and the screen lit up. From her handbag, she took a large sealed envelope.

  “This envelope left the lab thirty minutes ago. It has not been opened. I have no idea what the contents reveal.”

  She showed the envelope to Nancy Baines, who nodded. Jessica then snapped the wax seal, pulled off the red tape, lifted the flap and took out some file folders.

  “As you know, Ellie, these four tests represent the DNA samples I took from your hair, your blood, your saliva, and your woo-woo.”

  “Her whuut?” Nancy asked.

  Ellie and Jessica laughed. “As kids, Ellie and I referred to our vaginas as our woo-woos.”

  “Oh …” Nancy blushed.

  Jessica set the test results on the table and began to study the films of smudges and pages of indecipherable letters – like AGU, CAG, GUA. Ellie couldn’t understand how a human being could be reduced to alphabet letters. What did the letters mean? Were As better than Gs? She looked at the smudges, and numbers, and charts with red and blue spikes. Ellie thought the smudges looked identical to the smudges on her earlier DNA films … and why wouldn’t they be identical?

  My DNA is my DNA for God sakes!

  Jessica studied one chart, then another, then looked at the other two charts. She flipped back through the pages, rechecking some. Her brow furrowed, but her eyes were locked in concentration as she scanned each line of data.

  The longer Jessica took, the harder Ellie’s heart thumped into her throat, and the faster her leg shook. Quinn’s fingers tapped Morse Code on the oak table. Nancy fiddled with her iPad.

  What’s taking so long?

  Jessica walked to the light box and placed two films next to each other … then placed the other two films beside them.

  She stared at the graphs, then started shaking her head slowly as though something was wrong, or puzzling, or disappointing … or … Ellie thought, she’s working up the courage to tell me the bad news?

  “Well, I’ll be!” Jessica said.

  “You’ll be what?” Ellie asked.

  “Hog-tied and scallywagged! Look at that, Ellie!”

  “Look at what?”

  “Ellie … you’re a twin!”

  “I have a twin?”

  “No, you … yourself … are twins!”

  “Huh …?”

  “You are your own twin!”

  Ellie was completely confused.

  “Ellie, you’re a … chimera!’”

  “What’s a khi – ?”

  “- a chimera is a person who has two genetically distinct sets of DNA in their body. Two completely different DNAs!”

  Ellie was still confused. “But how can – ?”

  “ – it began in your mother’s womb. Two separately fertilized eggs, each with its own DNA, came together and fused into one human being – you! You continued to grow in the womb, but with your two different DNAs located in different parts of your body. Your mouth swab and hair gave us one of those DNAs, but your blood and vagina gave us your new second DNA.”

  “Are you saying I’m one person with two completely and distinctly different DNAs?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “How different are these DNAs?”

  “As different as the DNAs of me and …
Lady GaGa.”

  “But I feel like one person.”

  “Because you are one person.”

  Ellie still had difficulty processing the mind-boggling science. “Are there many of us … chi … meras?”

  “Chimeras are rare, we think. But there might be more than we realize.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they look pretty much like other people. But they may have some physical characteristics.”

  “Like?”

  “Like the one that made me think about testing you.”

  “My eyes?”

  “Right. Your right eye is bluer than your left. Different eye colors sometimes signify a chimera. But not always.”

  “Any other characteristics?”

  “Some chimeras have splotchy or different-colored skin, or different shades of hair, or hitchhiker’s thumb, a thumb that bends way back. And there are other characteristics. But you have none of those. Nor did you have a bone marrow transplant that can turn a patient into a chimera.”

  Quinn leaned over the conference table.

  “Jessica, are you saying Ellie has a second, completely different set of DNA that has not yet been compared to Leland Radford’s DNA?”

  “Yes I am!”

  “When can we compare her new DNA to his?”

  “Here and now.”

  Jessica gestured everyone over to the light box. She took a folder from her briefcase. The folder label said Leland Radford. From the folder, she took out Radford’s DNA film and clipped it to the light box.

  Then she took Ellie’s two new DNA films from her blood and vagina – and clipped them beside Radford’s DNA film.

  Jessica studied Radford’s film, then Ellie’s new DNA films. She checked them again.

  Then slowly, she turned and stared at Ellie for several moments.

  “Ellie … .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your biological father is Leland T. Radford.”

  SIXTY SIX

  Nancy Baines entered her courthouse cubicle, still amazed by the only chimera DNA test she’d ever witnessed.

  She tried to settle quietly into her desk chair, but as usual it squeaked, alerting her nosey assistant, Harley Don Sidebottom. He scurried over to her cubical like Pavlov’s dog ready to lap up the latest gossip. Did Lurleen get breast implants? Are Judge Snead and his slutty secretary doing the nasty in chambers? Harley Don lived for gossip. So much so, the flabby, forty-seven-year-old bachelor with silver ear studs and lethal flatulence had to work weekends to catch up.