IRISH FIRE (27 page)

Charles Malone pushed aside his salad, liberally sugared his coffee, all the while appearing deep in thought. You might have something here, Caitlin. It wont affect todays ruling but we can try it in the appeal. Meanwhile it wouldnt hurt for you to go home and see if you can make your idea work.

Suddenly her salad looked appetizing. She was even in the mood for dessert, real dessert, not the generic cubes of jello and cornstarch-thickened fruit pies shed seen behind the glass while moving through the cafeteria line. Caitlin wanted maple-crusted crme brle or cheesecake in its purest form, sinfully rich with cream cheese, eggs, and a light topping of sweetened sour cream.

Phillip Rutherford was not unsympathetic but, as he explained somewhat regretfully, his hands were tied. In the case of Claiborne versus Claiborne, Kentucky law is clear. Mr. Claiborne has requested joint custody of his children and unless a justifiable reason to deny him is brought before the court, his request must be honored. Because all other terms in the divorce settlement have been agreed upon by the Claibornes, including the stipulated amounts of child and spousal support, the court hereby grants Mr. Claiborne the rights of custodial parent every other week and alternating holidays to be agreed upon by both parties. If either partys circumstances change, the court will again look at the matter and reach a determination based on the new facts.

He flipped open the calendar beside him. In consideration of Mrs. Claibornes present living arrangements and because the children are currently settled in school, I hereby allow her until June 30th to comply with the courts ruling. The children will spend Christmas with Mrs. Claiborne and Easter with Mr. Claiborne.He stood, Godlike, all powerful. Court is dismissed.

Nothing could destroy Caitlins optimism, not Sams excess-ravaged face, not Lucys embarrassment, not Charles Malones cautious words. The marriage was over, her future was unsure, but she was free, free to go back to her life and what she could make of it.

F
or reasons Brian had never cared enough to explore, Hillary Benedict left him cold. She was good-looking enough, a redhead with pale green eyes, long legs, and enough money to correct any noticeable imperfectionsa circumstance shed not hesitated to take advantage of the instant her husbands estate was settled.

Brian preferred a woman to look the way nature had intended. Hillarys conical breasts, non-existent nose, and laser-smooth skin stretched over synthetically-constructed cheekbones had no effect on him beyond a cynical kind of pity. For an already pretty woman to attempt to halt the aging process by going under the knife again and again, was a lesson in futility. He wasnt one to notice a womans isolated body parts. It was the entire package that mattered. Either a woman was attractive or she wasnt. Her appeal had little to do with coloring, breast size, or the length of her legs.

Hed never taken the time to analyze exactly what it was that would make him turn around for a second look. It was something that defied explanation: a spark in the middle of shared conversation, a generous smile, a candid response, the curve of a cheek, the movement of a hand. It just happened in the same way he knew that Hillary Benedict didnt tempt him at all.

Her late model coupe was parked in his driveway. Brian stopped beside her car, turned off his ignition, and set the brake. On his way to the door he placed his hand on the boot of the BMW. It was cold. Shed been here for quite some time. Bracing himself for what he assumed would be another haranguing over the fire, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

She stood near the empty firestove, wrapped in an ankle length mink. Her hands were blue.

Without greeting her, he pulled three logs and a sheet of newspaper from the basket near the hearth. Striking a match, he held it to the paper until it caught. Why didnt you light the fire? he asked when the blaze was strong and some of the blueness had left her fingers.

I dont know how.

Come now, Hillary, he chided her, give over. We both know you were fixin oats for a family of eleven before you were eight years old.

Youre wrong. Ive never done such a thing.

He let it go. Can I get you anythin?

A drink if you have one.

Hed hoped she would decline. Hillary wasnt a woman who stopped at one drink. He poured a tumbler of whiskey into a glass and handed it to her.

She raised one eyebrow. Youre not having any?

Brian shook his head. What did you want to see me about?

May I sit down?

Ignoring her sarcasm, he waved her into a chair and took the one across from her.

She came right to the point. Why didnt you tell me it was the Claiborne colt that died in the fire?

Brian was startled. You never asked. I suppose I assumed you knew. What difference does it make?

It puts us under tremendous liability.

No more than if he belonged to someone else.

Hillary shrugged off her mink and crossed her legs. Her skirt slid halfway up her thighs, enough so that the tops of her nylons peeked out from below the hem. Brian kept his eyes on her face.

The colts ownership was under dispute. The fire inspector says the cause of the fire was arson. My guess is that someone set out to kill the colt. What do you think?

She was shrewd. Hed give that one to her. Its possible, he said noncommittally.

Hillary leaned back in the chair and sipped at her whiskey. For some reason his answer had pleased her. But why?

I understand that Mrs. Claiborne has two more horses stabled at the Stud.

Thats right. However, their ownership is not under dispute.

She leaned forward. Here it was, his ultimatum, the reason hed been summoned in her usual peremptory, noblesse oblige manner.

I want you to evict Caitlin Claiborne.

No, he said evenly.

Her eyes widened. I beg your pardon?

You heard me.

Arent you even going to ask me why?

No. His mouth was hard, uncompromising. Your reasons dont interest me, Hillary. I made it very clear when you asked me to stay on at the Stud after your husband died. You gave me full authority.

Ive changed my mind.

Well, I havent.

She leaned back again and sipped her drink. Are you threatening me, Brian? she asked softly.

That depends on your perspective.

Spell it out for me. Exactly what do you mean?

I wont evict Mrs. Claibornes horses.

And if I insist?

I wont stay on.

She frowned. Do you have a cigarette?

No. He watched the nervous play of her fingers against the whiskey glass.

Sam Claiborne is pressuring me.

How?

Hes influential. A word here and there about the unsuitability of my stud could put me out of business.

Brians eyes narrowed. Youll have to do better than that. Claiborne is an amateur compared to the Aga Kahn and his friends. They have no intention of goin elsewhere.

We have serious damage because of the fire, she insisted. It wont be as difficult as you think to plant seeds of doubt. I cant risk it.

For Christ sake, Hillary, have some compassion. Caitlin has nowhere else to go.

So, its
Caitlin,
is it? Her voiceknowing, snide, unattractivegrated on Brians nerves. Sam implied there might be more to your relationship than I realized.

Suddenly he understood. This conversation was pointless. It was finished and so was he. Without a word of explanation he rose from his chair, walked to the door and opened it. Good night, Hillary. Ill clear out by the end of the week.

Youre a fool, Brian. Where will you go? She isnt worth it.

The drink is on me. Dont forget your coat.

Tight-lipped, she stood, draped the mink around her shoulders, and stalked past him out the door.

Brian held on to the doorknob. His knuckles were white and very prominent beneath the stretched skin of his hand. Deliberately he relaxed, splayed his fingers, wiggled them until he could feel the blood flow again and stepped back, away from the door. Rage wouldnt help him. Caitlin would be home soon. He would have to present her with a plan, a plan that would save her pride and prevent him from looking like the sacrificial lamb.

Martin OShea looked around the rectory sitting room. You can stay here, I suppose. I dont think anyone would mind.

Brian laughed, shook his head, leaned across the table and helped himself to another ham sandwich. Thanks, but I dont think so. The church isnt a hotel and not everyone would take kindly to your invitation.

Martin relaxed and spread mustard liberally over his ham. Where will you go?

Theres a yard up for sale a few miles north of the track.

Does it have a house?

It does.

Tell me about it.

Between gulps of milky tea and ham sandwich, Brian filled Martin in on the details of the training yard, house, and acreage for which hed made a substantial offer. Its vacant, he said. If everythin goes accordin to plan, I can move in now and pay rent until its officially mine.

Its a large house for one man.

Brian shrugged. Beggars cant be choosers.

Martins blue eyes were fixed on his friends face. Are you planning on living there alone?

For now, Brian hedged.

Martin turned the subject. Sam Claibornes lawyers phoned me earlier in the week.

Brians face stilled. What did they want?

A statement affirming Lanas deposition that you and Caitlin are having an affair.

Brian swore softly.

Martin winced. Not here, please. Besides, its all your fault, you know.

Would you be good enough to explain that?

Lanas been in love with you since she first came back to Kilcullen.

Why is that my fault?

Martin grinned. Ive heard tis your handsome face thats driving all the women wildsingle and married.

Brian felt the heat rise in his cheeks. I knew Lana was taken with me but this is the first Ive heard of
all
the women.

I cant see it myself, Martin agreed.

Be serious for once.

The smile left the priests face. I am, Brian. Lanas so green with jealousy that shell do anything to hurt Caitlin. You might want to think twice about staying here in Kilcullen now that youre out of work. Why not start up somewhere else?

Im out of a job, Martin, not out of work, Brian corrected him. My work is trainin horses. This is the Curragh race track. Where else would I train them?

I was thinking of Caitlin. Martin kept his eyes on Brians face. She might find it difficult to live with Lanas dislike. Caitlin isnt accustomed to disapproval from her mates, not here in Kilcullen anyway. When we were small she lorded it over us and we were pleased to let her. We worshipped her, you see.

Caitlin isnt a child. Shes weathered a few trials of her own since she left Kilcullen. Id worry more about Lanas state of mind. Shes not thinkin clearly. I hope for her sake that she doesnt do any harm. Caitlin would die for her children. Id hate to see what she would do to someone who helped take them away from her.

Martin frowned. You dont sound terribly worried about that possibility.

It wont happen, replied Brian with certainty.

How can you be sure?

Claiborne is a crook. His man set fire to my barn.

Youre not serious.

I am. Brians face was grim. I hope to have proof of that very soon.

Are you thinking of blackmailing Claiborne? Martin sounded incredulous.

If I have to.

Good Lord, Brian. Do you love her as much as that?

I do. It was a relief to finally say it.

Martin hesitated, lifted his teacup and set it down again. Theres another reason Caitlin might be more comfortable somewhere else.

Brians eyes narrowed to a chilling blue. What is it?

Martin shrugged. Never mind. It was just a thought.

Where did it come from?

Martin hesitated.

Out with it, lad.

Im not at liberty to say just yet. But trust me, Caitlin wont be happy about it.

Brian released his breath. If youre not goin to tell me why in bloody hell did you bring it up?

Because I think you have a chance with Caitlin, if she cares enough for you, but not here, not in Kilcullen. Mark my words, Brian. You dont want to go investing any money in a house and a yard in Kilcullen, not if you want Caitlin Keneally to move in with you.

Move in with me? Brian lifted astonished eyes to his friends face. Have you not been hearin anythin Ive said, lad? I want you to marry us. I want to raise her children. I want to give her more children, my children.

Martin smiled sadly. Then youll take my advice.

Later that afternoon on his way home, Brian kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road. What in the hell was Martin talking about? Kilcullen was Brians home. Caitlin was born here, and Annie and Ben were settled in school. This was where she would want to stay.

He would go ahead with the purchase of his training yard and the house with its massive ceilings, tumbling staircase, and a kitchen spacious and well appointed enough for a woman who knew her way around it. Together they would move beyond whatever was troubling Martin.

Brian would make her realize that it was enough just for her to be here, that he loved her, the woman she had becomea dark-eyed girl with a laugh like music, fiercely loyal, tender and vulnerable. A woman who wore old shirts and painters pants with the same effortless style as lavender lace and diamond studs. The woman who had left Kilcullen, married Sam Claiborne, borne him two children and come home again to find the life shed been destined to live all along. He would make her understand that the journey was necessary to reach the destination, that none of it was wasted, or wrong or shameful.

He turned down the lane leading to his cottage, stopped by the mailbox, emptied it, and parked in his usual spot near the back entrance. Neeve barked her welcome and Brian opened the door to let her in. Already the cottage had ceased to be home for him. Odd, really, how few were the personal items hed acquired over the last ten years. E-mail messages waited in his inbox and a stack of papers in his fax tray needed to be sorted through.