Kentucky Sunrise (3 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Sunrise
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“As usual, Mom, you're right again. I can't tell you how worried I've been about that kid. Sunny is beside herself. I'll call and tell her when I get to the casino. Iris said blueberry waffles would be nice.” He winked at his mother.
“She's right, blueberry waffles would be nice. I'll see you this evening, Sage.”
Sage hugged his mother and was out the door a second later.
 
 
Nealy Clay Littletree reached for the phone and picked it up on the first ring. “Fanny! How nice to hear from you. Yes, it's been way too long. Hatch and I just got back from some of our travels. Actually, I was just sitting here thinking about the family and missing everyone. How are you, Fanny?”
“Getting older by the day, Nealy. I have a very large favor to ask of you. If you can't see your way clear to helping me, that's okay, too. I've never been one too proud to ask for help.”
“Ask away, Fanny. If it's in my power to help you, I will. Your sons came to my rescue, and I didn't even have to ask. Family is such a wonderful thing. Now, tell me what I can do for you.”
Nealy looked up and smiled at her husband. Hatch winked at her as he tossed the “Lifetime” section of the morning paper. She caught it deftly as she mouthed the words, “It's Fanny Thornton.”
“Do you remember me telling you about my grandson Jake?” Fanny asked.
“Yes, I remember. Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“No. However, he refuses to go to college. He won't leave the mountain. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with his size and weight. Even though he's going to turn eighteen in a few weeks, he looks like he's only twelve years old. I understand his mind-set where that is concerned. I was wondering if you or Emmie would take him under your wing and train him to be a jockey. It's a large commitment on your part, but I don't know what else to do. I had this dream . . . No, no, I can't lie to you, Nealy. It wasn't a dream. Sometimes I talk to Ash. He answers me. No, I'm not crazy. I'm just careful who I tell things like this to. Ruby talks to him, too.”
“Yes, I do know, and I really do understand. There for a while I was talking to Hunt. What did he tell you?”
“He's the one who suggested all of this. Can you see yourself helping us, Nealy?”
“Of course. I'll do anything I can. I'm sure Hatch won't mind. You are coming to the reunion, aren't you?”
“Wouldn't miss it for the world. I thought it would be a good time for Jake to get his feet wet so to speak. He's a wonderful boy, Nealy, and he got a bad deal like his mother did. Something like this just might be what he needs, to prove to himself he can and will amount to something. I don't know how to thank you.”
“Would you do it for me, Fanny?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Then you have your answer. I'll talk to Hatch and get a plan under way. It was nice talking to you, Fanny. Say hello to everyone for me.”
Nealy clicked off the portable phone and looked up at Hatch. “How do you feel about us staying on at Blue Diamond Farms after the reunion? I don't know how long, Hatch. It could be two years, a little less, a little more. We could come back here to Santa Fe on long weekends. Fanny Thornton needs my help.”
“Then let's do it,” Hatch said.
Nealy looked up and stared off into space. God had certainly smiled on her when He brought Hatch Littletree into her life. “Don't you want to know why we're going back?”
Hatch looked over the top of his spectacles. “You said Fanny needs your help.”
“Well, yes, she does but it's actually her grandson who needs the help. She wants me to train him to be a jockey. He has a severe medical problem. He never grew normally. He's healthy as all get-out and graduated at the top of his class, but he refuses to go to college. I'm sure image and peer pressure played a big part in his decision. I think he might be able to do it. Train to be a jockey, I mean.
“It's really very sad because the boy wanted to be a naval aviator like his grandfather, but with his condition it isn't possible. He's just the right age, and he's the perfect weight, too. I'd like to work with him. That give-back thing we always talk about when God is good to you. Are you sure you're okay with going back for that long a time?”
“I'm okay with it, Nealy. Metaxas Parish ran his business out of your farm for three whole years while you and Shufly trained. I can do the same thing. Semiretirement allows for a lot of things. Don't look so worried, honey. I think it's a great idea. Maybe he'll let me act like a dad. I'm all for it.”
Nealy grinned. “Good, because I told her I would do it.”
Hatch laughed, the chair shaking under his weight. “I know. I was listening.”
 
 
Emmie Coleman leaned back against the board fencing, hooking the heel of her boot onto one of the rails. Hands jammed into the pockets of her jeans, she surveyed Blue Diamond Farms. It had to be the prettiest place on earth. Her home, her sanctuary. She was never, ever going to leave again. She dug the heel of her left boot into the rich soil and wished she could take root. She sighed with happiness.
Thick gray clouds scudded overhead, a sign that it would rain in the next hour or so. If it did, the camera crew would have to wind up for the day. Mitch Cunningham had been true to his word, the crew hadn't interfered, hadn't gotten in the way, but they were always there, always within eyesight. She was so used to Mitch and the crew that when they weren't around she missed them.
The seven-month time frame to complete the movie had gone the way of all deadlines, thanks to the fire and her mother's trip to Thailand for reconstructive surgery to repair her burned face. Now, though, the film was almost near the wrap stage. The thought left her with a feeling of sadness. She'd become very fond of Mitch Cunningham. Perhaps too fond. In the morning she couldn't wait to run to the barn, hoping to see him before she started her day. It was foolish because he never showed up before nine in the morning, and by that time she usually had five hours of work under her belt.
More than ever, she realized that she was just like her mother. She wasn't worldly, didn't know how to play the games men and women played with each other. Her social skills were as pitiful as those of her mother. She could hardly wait to see the film on the wide screen, to see how the young actress played her part. The woman and Mitch had both picked her brain clean. How her life would translate on the screen was still a mystery. She'd heard Mitch call it a modern-day
Gone With the Wind.
God knows he had done as much research on Thoroughbreds and racing as Margaret Mitchell had done on the South and the Civil War. The cast was practically as large, with actors and actresses portraying almost every member of her mother's family, including the Texas Colemans and the Thorntons of Las Vegas. He had even hired actors and actresses to portray some of the office staff and farmhands. Only the horses had played themselves.
He was heading her way now, his long-legged stride unmistakable. The nerves in her stomach did a crazy little dance as she struggled to appear nonchalant. She could see him studying her for a moment. What was he seeing? Obviously something that didn't appeal to him. It bothered her. She tipped her Stetson lower to shield her eyes. He in turn flipped his baseball cap around so that the brim was in the back. All the better to see her with.
“Nice day,” he said.
“Summer days are always nice,” Emmie said coolly.
“This certainly is a beautiful place. I hope someday I can have something half as grand. I'd like a little ranch out West somewhere. That's so far into the future it doesn't bear thinking about. It's easy to understand why you love it so much.”
Emmie nodded but said nothing.
“I need to thank you again for being so gracious and for allowing us to film here. I hope you'll come to the premiere as my guest. Your mother, too. Actually, the whole family. I know it's going to be a huge success. I'm hoping it's Academy Award material. My gut tells me those racing scenes will really put it over the top.”
Emmie nodded again. “What's your next project?”
Mitch shrugged. “Don't know. I still have a lot to do on this one. We're going to film your family reunion. That's not to say it will go into the movie, but I would like the footage just in case. The final editing is going to be a nightmare. A definite challenge, but still a nightmare. I'm going to miss this place.”
What about me? Are you going to miss me?
“You'll forget us soon enough,” Emmie said.
“You're like your mother, you know that, Emmie? What is it about me that you don't like? You're always polite, but you're always so damn busy. Do you ever stop to take a deep breath, to smell the roses, to dream? I finally figured out your mother halfway through the film. Do you feel you
have
to be like her? I guess my next question is, if the answer is yes, then why? And I still don't understand why you wouldn't allow mention of your daughter or let her be in the film. If this is going to be the epic I think it will be, she might be a little offended when she gets older and sees that she wasn't even mentioned. I don't think it's fair to her. Your mother made it abundantly clear that the deal was off if we so much as mentioned Gabby. Now that we're almost finished, do you want to tell me why?”
“I suppose I am like Mom in some ways. In other ways, I'm not like her at all. It's not easy running a farm this size. From the time I learned to walk, I knew the horses always had to come first. Hard work never hurt anyone. Is that what you have trouble with? My daughter is not part of this conversation, so let's just leave it at that.”
Mitch took off his baseball cap and fiddled with it before he plopped it back on his head. “Okay, we'll leave it at that. I don't know if this is the time to tell you or not, but I wanted to ask you out to dinner or just to a movie so many times I lost count. You fix those blue eyes on me and I stop thinking about asking you because those blue eyes tell me ‘don't cross that line.' So, I didn't. Before I pack up to leave, I'd like to know if I had asked, would you have accepted?”
Emmie's brain whirled and twirled. “Yes. I wondered why you never asked. I almost asked you once, but instead I took Gabby to town and went to lunch and a matinee.”
Mitch jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I thought you didn't like me, that you were just being polite because of your mother. I guess I thought you were just tolerating us, me in particular. So, do you want to go to dinner tonight?”
Emmie smiled. “I'd love to go to dinner with you, Mitch.”
He seemed stunned at her response. “You know what, that's great. That's really great. That's just great. I said that, didn't I? Is seven too early or too late?”
“Seven is just fine. I'll see you at seven. I have to get back to the barn.”
The camera he was never without came off his shoulder and into his hands. “Say cheese,” he said, snapping her picture. He already had hundreds of pictures of Emmie, but he could always use one more. She mugged for him before sprinting off to the barn.
He adjusted the focus and zoomed in on her face. She was a pretty girl, but she didn't have the sparkle her mother had. Nealy Clay Littletree was unlike any woman he'd ever known, and after all this time of popping in and out of her life, he figured he knew her just about as well as anyone could. From the beginning he had pegged her as being a hard nut to crack. It wasn't that she was uncooperative; she was by nature a very private person.
He had taken every care to find an actress who could portray Nealy properly. Actually, he had two actresses. First, a teenager to portray Nealy as the seventeen-year-old unwed mother who ran away from her Virginia home and her abusive father and literally stumbled onto Blue Diamond Farms and into a fortune. Second, a thirty-plus actress to portray Nealy into her fifties with the help of a makeup artist. Both of them had had to be exceptional horsewomen, which had made finding them more difficult, but ultimately worth the effort.
For the racing scenes, he had used actual footage of Nealy winning the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont Stakes—footage he hoped would make him a legend in his own time. A filmmaker extraordinaire!
 
 
Emmie spent forty minutes checking on things before she was satisfied she could go up to the house and take a bubble bath. She was aching from head to toe. It seemed of late that either one or the other of her joints acted up, causing her to limp, gasp with sudden pain, or just plain old slow down. Her fingers were puffy, too. One of these days she was going to make an appointment to have a physical, something she'd been putting off way too long. She could take a day or so off now that she had a well-oiled machine going full tilt, sterling workers, and a farm manager named Cordell Lancer, who ran the farm with an iron fist. Because of Cordell, and the new workers she'd hired, she was able to spend more time with Gabby, be involved in community affairs, and have some semblance of a life outside of the horses. She didn't do half the things her mother had done, and yet the farm ran smoothly.

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