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Nealy sat quietly for ten minutes, reading her mother's words to herself. What would she have done in her position? She wondered. She couldn't imagine herself ever being in that kind of fix and yet . . . She thought back to what her life had been like before leaving SunStar Farms and realized she
had
been in a very similar position. The only reason she had left was because Josh threatened to send Emmie to an orphanage. But for that, God only knows how long she might have stayed. Maybe forever, like her brothers.
“There are a few more entries over the next year, mostly to do with lack of money and her growing dislike for Seth Coleman. Here's one where she talks about the two of you.”
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My two precious little boys. They are the sunshine, my only sunshine. I played outside with them all day today and had a picnic under the trees. They still take my breath away. To think that I could make such beautiful little creatures. I don't know what I would do if anything happened to either one of them. My heart almost bursts with happiness when I settle them at night. When they wake in the morning my heart melts as their little arms circle my neck. God smiled on me when he gave me these two angels. I hope I live long enough to see them raised with their own families. Seth sent money through the mail. That's good. That means he won't be here for a while.
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“The next entry is just a week later. Something's up here.”
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I'm so upset. Seth is here and will be here for the entire month. He said he has business in Dallas. We're eating wonderfully. He wants steak and roast beef every single day, and baked goods. My pantry is so full I just stand there and stare at it. He's good with the boys and they like him. My neighbor loaned me her camera and we took some pictures. At first Seth balked, but there wasn't too much he could do in front of my neighbor. My heart doesn't sing anymore when he's around. I'm sad to say I'm counting the days until he leaves. Every single day I take twenty dollars out of his trousers. He carries enough money around to choke a horse. Tomorrow I'm going to take more and hide it away. I'm going to do that every day until he leaves.
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She glanced up to see that her brothers were both sitting forward in their chairs, looking as if they were expecting a bomb to explode.
“The next entry is a month later.”
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He's gone! Even the boys seem relieved. They are so good. They sit by themselves and color or play with their toys. I'm so grateful they have each other. I now have a little over $500. I feel so much better with this little nest egg. The larder is full, Seth made sure of that. The boys have a roomful of new toys, and their father didn't forget me either. I think he left me with another baby. I can't be sure but I'm almost sure. I haven't been feeling well lately. It will be a good reason to go to the doctor for a checkup. My heart is lighter. Seth said he wouldn't be back for several months. What kind of marriage is this?
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“I want to cry for this woman who was our mother,” Nealy said. “Maybe she'll get enough money to make her move.” Her brothers could only shrug.
“The next time she wrote was four months later.”
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The doctor confirmed it. I'm pregnant. Maybe I'll be lucky and have a little girl this time. I pray to God I do. The doctor told me my heart isn't as strong as it should be. It beats irregularly or something like that. He told me not to overtire myself and to take vitamins. I do get tired easily and lately when the boys go down for their naps, I take one, too. One day they both climbed in bed with me and covered me up. They tell me I smell like sugar cookies. Pyne likes to kiss me on the ear and Rhy pretends to nibble on my nose. Dear God, how I love those two little men of mine. Seth will be coming this weekend. I dread seeing him, dread having to tell him. But my little nest egg will increase if he comes.
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“She wrote five days later.”
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Seth's reaction was just what I expected. He was furious and stormed out. He came back hours later all liquored up and wanted to go to bed. Thank God the boys were already asleep. I suffered through it all. This time I took the whole wad of cash he had on him and hid it in the coffee bag. When he looked for it in the morning I was all innocent. I told him how drunk he was when he got here. I even cried when I asked if he wouldn't be able to leave me money. He said he would send me a check. Then he told me his brother was coming for a visit soon. Sometime during the next few months. I was surprised since he never talks about his other family. All I wanted was for him to
leave.
I now have $2000.
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“There's a bunch of blank pages after that entry. It looks like maybe she wrote something and then tore out the pages. Anyway, the next entry is when she comes home in November with me. I'm finally born,” Nealy said, wiping her eyes.
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She is so very beautiful. And so healthy. She's just as good as Rhy and Pyne were when I brought them home. I'm going to call her Cornelia after my grandmother. The boys adore her and take turns holding her and rocking her. Rhy sings to her. Pyne makes faces to make her laugh. He doesn't understand that newborn babies don't laugh. I don't want to share this little miracle with Seth. I know his opinion of women and female babies. He won't be kind to Cornelia the way he is to the boys. I will have to be her champion, and I will do that lovingly every single day of my life. I just want to hold her against my breast forever and ever. Seth is coming this weekend and bringing his brother with him. I'm anxious about this visit. While I was in the hospital I was thinking about Seth and how he was never around for any of the children's births. I had to go through it all myself. I had to get myself to the hospital and I had to get myself home. Thank God for nice neighbors. The nurse Seth hired for me was very sweet. Her name was Rinney. He fetched her from Austin just for me. Seth did send flowers each time, but it would have been nice if he had been there in person. I now have $3000 in my nest egg. God is watching over me.
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Nealy licked at her dry lips. “There's one more entry and that's the end of the diary. I'm almost afraid to read it. Pop me one of those beers, Rhy. I think I'm going to need it. We know one thing, boys, our mama did love us. She really and truly loved us. God, I wish I had known her even if it was just for one day. One day! Here goes.”
Rhy nodded.
Her brothers turned to look at her and she knew what they were thinking, that she wasn't at all like them or like their mother, that she was strong, strong like her father, Seth Coleman.
She felt the bile rise in her throat. She didn't want to be anything like any of the Colemans, especially her father. With an effort she continued to read.
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I don't expect I'll be writing in this little diary again. My life has come to an end. At least the life I had. Seth brought his brother here. He looks just like Seth. But he's a mean, hard man. I could tell. But then Seth turned mean, too. Seth is packing us off with his brother to Virginia. He said he can't take care of us anymore. He said his brother would take care of us from now on. Said he gave him money for our keep. I think he sold us is what I think. There was no mention of a divorce. Thank God I hid that marriage license. We're to take nothing with us, not even the children's toys. Just our clothes. I called my brother Carl and asked him if he would come by and pack up our things and keep them for us until I needed them. He said he would. I don't want to go, but I'm realistic enough to know that my $3000 wouldn't keep us for long. We have no other choice. Seth made me cook a big dinner to show his brother I knew my way around the kitchen. Then they both left without eating anything. Seth looked at me and said good-bye. He didn't kiss me, didn't touch me. He just said good-bye. I simply stood there and looked at him. His brother will be by tomorrow to pick us up. I'm going to spend all of this last night on my knees praying to God that this man is good to my children. I don't expect him to love them. I just want him to be good to them. I will pray until the moment we all walk through the door for the last time.
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“Oh, God!” Nealy sobbed into her hands. Her brothers broke down and joined her. When she couldn't cry anymore, Nealy struggled to her feet. “Does Hank Meyers still own the feed store?”
“He died a long time ago, Nealy. His son Hank Jr. runs it now.”
“Get on the phone with him. Tell him I'm on the way and I want to buy some flower seeds. Pay him whatever he wants. A thousand, ten thousand, a hundred. I don't give a shit. Say please. Sometimes that helps. I'm on my way. You boys get the shovels and some manure. We've got plenty of that for sure. We are going to plant us some violets.”
“It's winter, Nealy. The ground is frozen, and it's the middle of the night.”
“It might be winter but the ground isn't frozen. If it is, we'll thaw it out. We're doing it! Do you think any of us are going to sleep tonight? We aren't. I'll be back in thirty minutes.”
She was as good as her word. “Hank Jr. thinks I'm nuts. I told him he was probably right. What did it cost to get him to open the store?”
“A month's free board for his horse.”
“Let's go, boys.”
Two hours later, Nealy covered the grave with a thick layer of hay and then watched as her brothers tacked down the burlap cover she'd spread across the entire grave.
“Now what?” Rhy asked gruffly.
“Now we can rest easy. We each say a prayer, and go back to the house, and cry in each other's arms. She loved us with all her heart. That's what we carry away from all of this. No more and no less. Race you to the house!”
7
Emmie crept down the steps tying the belt on her robe as she went along. Nick, she knew, was studying in the dining room, and she didn't want to disturb him. She skirted the room and made her way to the kitchen. She peeked in and frowned. Nick was sound asleep, with his head and arms on the table. She wanted to cry for him. He was so ragged these last weeks, but he was coming into the homestretchâonly a year to goâand it would be worth all the sleepless hours, all the anxiety.
She knew she had to wake him up but hated to do it. First she rinsed the coffeepot, knowing she would need to make fresh coffee for Nick.
She looked around, delaying the moment when she would have to wake Nick.
I hate this place,
she thought.
I really hate it.
She knew she could go home, back to Kentucky. She could go back to the house she'd shared with Buddy, but she didn't like that house because of the bad memories. She wanted to go
home
where she belonged. Back to Blue Diamond Farms.
She'd run away like a coward, following Nick blindly because at the time it seemed like the thing to do.
She tiptoed over to the sliding door and walked out onto the patio. She looked down at the patch of Kentucky bluegrass growing inside the small greenhouse she'd purchased at a local hardware store. She tended it as carefully as she tended to her daughter. The grass was thick and luxurious and perfect in color. She thought about all the times she'd stood over it and cried. Maybe her tears helped it to thrive. She was tempted to snip off a blade, and put it between her thumbs and whistle. She had been tempted hundreds of times, but she'd never done it. She wanted, needed, to preserve each blade. A lone tear dropped onto one of the slivers of grass. In the dim patio light she could see that it looked like a small, bright diamond. She swiped at her tears and walked back into the house.
Inside the house, Emmie made her way to the dining room, where she gently shook Nick's shoulders. “Wake up, Nick.”
“Oh, God, did I fall asleep? How long have I been asleep? What time is it?”
“It's almost two o'clock. I went to bed at midnight and you were awake then. I guess maybe an hour, Nick. Would you like me to make some coffee for you? I can fix you a ham sandwich if you like.”
“Yeah, do that, Emmie. Make that two sandwiches. Pickles if you have them, and make the coffee really strong. What are you doing up at this time? Is Gabby okay?”
“She's fine. I couldn't sleep.”
Nick tossed his pen on the table. “Were you outside watching your grass grow? By the way, how's it doing?”
Emmie beamed. “I have five squares now. Each one is as big as a doormat. I can't plant it here, it would never survive. Just seeing it every day is all I need.”
“You really miss home and Mom, don't you?”
“Yes, I do. I was missing Mom tonight. That's why I couldn't sleep. Do you think she misses us, Nick?”
“I don't know. I hope so. I sure as hell miss her. I'd give anything to hear her yell at me for something or other. I want to show you something, Emmie. C'mere,” he said, leading her to the breakfront, where he opened the bottom cabinet where he kept his books. “See this box. It's letters I wrote to Mom. Letters I never mailed. Sometimes when I think I can't do this one more minute, I stop what I'm doing and write her a letter. I always feel better afterward. Did you ever do that?”
There had to be hundreds of letters in the box. “A few times, but all I did was cry and make myself feel worse so I stopped. The grass makes me cry, too. Somehow, it's different, though. The grass represents a place. The letters to Mom were . . . I don't want to talk about it. I'll make the coffee and sandwiches.”
Nick followed Emmie into the kitchen. It was probably the most pleasant room in the whole house because Emmie had wallpapered it herself with strawberry-patch-patterned paper that made the room bright and cheerful. She'd even painted strawberry decals on the white window shades. Thick green plants whose names he didn't know, sat on the counter along with a bright red sugar bowl where she kept change and dollar bills for the paperboy and the youngster who mowed the lawn. Just last month she'd made red cushions for the two benches that curled around the table in the breakfast nook. She called it busy stuff to keep her mind off things.
“Do you ever think about calling, Emmie?”
“Every single day. I actually did, once or twice but I always hung up before anyone could answer. One time I wasn't quick enough and I heard Smitty say hello. I cried all day. Did you do that, too, Nick?”
Nick nodded. “So many times I lost count.”
“This was all worth it for you, Nick. You're going to be a lawyer. You're following your dream. I'm just existing. I have no goals, and that silly book I'm pretending to write is never going to go anywhere. It's just something to do. I lost all my direction. I don't have any goals, nothing to strive toward.”
“You have Gabby. That's a miracle in itself,” Nick said, reaching for the thick ham sandwich Emmie had made for him. He wolfed it down. He grabbed the second one and ate it just as fast. He munched on sour pickles until the coffee was ready.
“I wish we had more time to talk to each other,” Emmie said wistfully as she cleared off the counter.
“It's just a little longer, Emmie. Just hang on until I finish, okay. Listen, maybe I don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate you being here. We're family. At the moment, all we have is each other. We need to stick together.”
“I know, Nick.” Hoping to delay him just a minute longer, she asked, “I hardly ever see Hatch. How is he?”
“That's one busy guy. He's here, he's there, he's everywhere. What's really amazing is the guy gets everything done and done on time. I'm a slug compared to him. I have to get to work. It's late, Emmie, you should go to bed.”
“I will as soon as I finish cleaning up the kitchen. Will you be here for breakfast? If you don't have to leave early, I can make you those blueberry buttermilk pancakes you like so much.”
“Sorry, Emmie, I have to be in the office by seven. Sleep in. I can grab some sweet rolls and coffee when I get to the office.”
Emmie looked around the tidy kitchen before she scribbled a note to herself and left it by the phone. Call Hatch, ask him to go to lunch. Remember to take the latest pictures of Gabby to show him.
She poked her head into the dining room for one last look at Nick. He was bent over a thick law book, a yellow legal pad next to it. She crossed her fingers and smiled. Nick would do well. When you put your heart and soul into something, it had to work out well.
Upstairs, she crossed her fingers again.
Please, don't let Hatch be busy tomorrow. Please.
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Across town, Hatch Littletree popped two bottles of beer and carried them out to the balcony. He set one on the little round metal table and kept one in his hand. Tonight was another one of those nights when his memories wouldn't allow for sleep. His shoulders slumped as he stared off into the dark night, the stars above twinkling down on him.
He thought about his dead wife and son because no matter what he did, they were always with him in his mind. Would it always be this way? Was it that way for Nick and his mother when Hunt Clay died? Maybe for Nick, but not for Nealy. Hunt said Nealy had fallen out of love with him. Then he'd gone on to say he doubted if she ever loved him. Death was always hardest on those left behind.
Don't go there, Hatch.
The big Indian had never listened to his conscience, so why should he start, he thought. Life was a bitch sometimes.
He flopped down on one of the chaise longues and stretched his legs out in front of him. He blinked when he realized he was barefoot. He didn't remember taking his shoes off. Ah, one of those little mysteries of life that would never be solved.
He gulped at the beer in the bottle. Once, after his wife and son died, he'd consumed twelve bottles of beer in a little less than an hour. The alcohol had not dulled his brain one bit. If anything, it intensified his rage and grief.
Don't go there either, Hatch. The past is gone; you can't bring it back.
His eyes burned unbearably. “I need a goddamn life is what I need.” He choked up with the words. Like it was so easy to do. Just go out on the street and say, “Hey, do you want to be my friend? I need a life, and in order to have a life I need friends and people around me. I need someone to hold and someone to love. I need someone to care about, and I want someone to care about me.”
He switched his mental gears and was that skinny, raggedy-ass kid, back on the reservation, running wild. The good old days when he was young, dumb, and stupid. He roll-called his life until it brought him back to his chair on the balcony.
It was a good life, and he wouldn't change even one day of it, right up until the day the hospital called to tell him his wife and son were dead.
You're going there again. I told you not to go there,
an inner voice warned.
Maybe he needed a cause, a project. Nick was a cause of sorts. Maybe a payback to his friend Hunt. Whatever it was, it was coming to an end. Nick was only a year away from taking the bar. When Nick passed, and he knew the kid would pass, Hatch would be at loose ends again.
He thought about Emmie and her little girl. A smile worked its way to his lips. He loved holding the little one in his arms. Loved the feel of her and the way she smelled, all sweet and powdery just the way his son had felt and smelled.
You aren't supposed to go there, you dumb schmuck.
“Then where in the damn hell am I supposed to go?” he cried in a tormented voice.
Try Kentucky,
the inner voice suggested.
Go there and make peace with Nealy Clay for her kids' sakes. Call it a mission. Bring her up short. Tell her how wonderful her kids are. Tell her how she screwed things up. Tell her life is too short and tell her she's in danger of losing her children altogether if she doesn't do something.
Yeah, right, like I'm an authority and she's going to listen to me. Hunt told me many times she hated my guts.
So charm her. You're good at that. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. What's wrong with trying?
the voice inside his head pressed.
Hatch stared down at his toes. He wiggled them to have something to do.
He leaned his head back into the soft padding on the chaise. Within minutes he was asleep.
He woke with a start at six o'clock when his cell phone rang. He mumbled a greeting. “Emmie! What's wrong? Is the baby all right? Lunch? Absolutely. I'll meet you at Carson's at twelve sharp. I'll look forward to it, Emmie. Thanks for inviting me.”
Hatch was on his feet a second later, stretching his arms upward to follow his gaze. “I'm definitely taking this as a sign that I'm to go to Kentucky.” He waited to see if a lightning bolt would descend in either acceptance or rejection of his idea. When nothing happened, he marched into the house and headed for the bathroom.
“Look out, Nealy Clay, here I come!” He whistled. A sure sign that something in his world was coming up right.