Maple Dale (Maple Dale Series) Read online

  Leah thought of the orphanage, first time in a long time, edged a chair up next to Mr. Bukener, too far away at first then closer, and was just about to sit down, when one of the women let out a scream. Leah jumped with her hands clutched to her chest, darting her eyes from the woman to the doorway, expecting a nurse to come rushing through. But no one came.

  The room fell silent. Even the woman who'd screamed seemed unconcerned. Leah cleared her throat and sat back down, trembling inside.

  "How have you been, Klaus?"

  Mr. Bukener frowned and then squinted. His once sparkling, flirting eyes, were now cloudy and harboring mucous in the corners. "I'm fine."

  The woman across the room cried out again, and though this time Leah managed to stay seated, it was a moment or two before she felt calm enough to continue. "I've come to talk to you

  about Maple Dale."

  Mr. Bukener looked surprised. "Maple Dale?"

  "Yes." Leah hoped she hadn't made a mistake in coming. "Your son is selling it, and I have to stop him."

  The old man worked his gums back and forth. "How can he sell it? Is it his?"

  Leah hesitated. "I guess."

  Mr. Bukener stared at her.

  "He wants to tear down the Century Home and the barns and the arena." Her voice cracked. "All of it. I was hoping you'd be able to get him to change his mind. I know how you loved Maple Dale. I can remember when you were well, how we would ride cross country together..." She trailed off, his eyes had filled with tears, that now trickled down his sunken cheeks.

  "I would like to ride. And ride, and ride, and ride. And I would never get down."

  Leah swallowed hard. "If you could only get him to change his mind. I'm sure he doesn't need the money. He has other business interests."

  The old man nodded slowly.

  "I know I have no right to ask this of you, but Maple Dale is my home. I'll beg if I have to. You see..." Her chin quivered uncontrollably as she thought about the students, the horses, her home, Shad and Phoenix. "Maple Dale is important to so many people. You just can't let him sell it."

  Mr. Bukener lowered his eyes to his lap, stared for a moment, then started scraping at a scab on the back of his hand. The nurse returned. "Are we having a nice visit?"

  "Yes," Mr. Bukener drawled.

  Leah looked away in an attempt to gain control of her emotions. When she looked back, Mr. Bukener was nodding. Nodding and nodding and nodding.

  "Are you related to our Mr. Bukener?" the nurse asked.

  "Uh...no, I'm not," Leah managed to say. "I work for him. Actually I work for his son."

  "Oh?" the nurse said, sounding interested.

  Leah nodded, glancing at Mr. Bukener, expecting him to say something, but he didn't. This was when she realized he didn't know who she was. She was a complete stranger to him.

  She stood up quickly, wanting to run from the room, suddenly feeling as if she didn't know him either. But for some reason, he urged her to stay. "Please don't go," he said, his voice a frail semblance of its once boisterous tone. "Please..."

  Leah felt for the chair, unsteadily, and sat back down as the nurse addressed one of the women. "Are we having a nice time in the solarium, Mrs. Kennedy?"

  When the woman nodded, saying something in a soft but incoherent voice, Mr. Bukener began nodding again as well. "Maple Dale," he said. "It would be so nice to go there. I could get a horse topped off and..."

  Leah found herself nodding right along with him, nodding and nodding and nodding even as the nurse stepped back and started shaking her head.

  "Mister Bukener! That was not a nice thing to do!" She released the lock on his wheelchair. "Now we'll have to go back to your room." On the floor beneath him was a puddle.

  * * *

  Bethann tapped on the office door. "Can I s-s-see y-yyou a minute?"

  Leah glanced at Klaus, just a fleeting glance, but one he took rightfully so as an invitation to leave, and did. She knew exactly why Bethann was there, and motioned for her to have a seat.

  Bethann remained standing. "I want t-t-to talk to y-yyou about P-P-Persian Son."

  Leah smiled sadly and shook her head. "We've been over this, Bethann, and my opinion hasn't changed. It's not a good idea."

  "But w-w-why?"

  "You know why, we've been over that too. You need a better horse." Bethann's hurt expression had Leah quickly correcting herself. "A younger horse, and not a school horse."

  "Persian Son is n-n-not j-j-just a school horse," Bethann said, her determination to defend him far outweighing her aversion to speaking. She even said it again. "He's n-n-not."

  Leah motioned once more for her to sit down and this time waited for her to listen. "Persian Son is a fine horse, yes. Probably one of the finest school horses I've ever seen. But. He's fourteen-years old and has more mileage on him than three horses his age. Frankly, I don't know why he stays so eager, so giving. Most horses would have soured years ago."

  Bethann smiled. "That's b-b-because h-he's special."

  Leah had to smile herself. She envisioned him romping in the paddock and playfully tossing his mane. "Irregardless, I think you ought to look for a younger horse. A five or six-year old maybe."

  "I w-w-want Persian Son!"

  Leah lowered her eyes to the floor, and looked up shaking her head. "Bethann, come on. We've been over this so many times. Can't you understand?"

  "No."

  Leah drew a breath and sighed. "You know, between this and my discussions with Klaus, I'm worn out. I don't ever remember being this tired."

  "I'm s-s-sorry," Bethann said, apologizing sincerely, but making it very clear she wasn't going to change her mind. "He's the-the horse that I w-w-want. Period!"

  Such a stand. Leah smiled a proud smile, and with that, waved her hands in surrender. "All right, all right. I give up!"

  "You m-m-mean it?"

  Leah nodded. "Yes. I'll talk to your parents about the price."

  Bethann jumped up and hugged her tightly.

  "Quit! Quit!" Leah scolded, patting her on the back. "You really didn't need my okay on this anyway, you know. You could've gone to Klaus yourself."

  Bethann stepped back, beaming. She did need her okay. She very much wanted her approval. "Now go on." Leah nudged her toward the door, not wanting her to see how choked up she was getting. "Your ride's probably here."

  After Bethann left, Leah went out and sat down on the bleachers overlooking the arena. Only now, sitting there alone, would she admit to herself that she was glad she hadn't been able to convince Bethann otherwise. Because she and Persian Son belonged together. Some things were just meant to be.

  Leah smiled.

  Bethann was probably the only real friend she'd ever had, and oddly enough, considering how shy she was, it was Bethann who befriended her. Every time she turned around, it seemed Bethann was there, following her, talking to her, then following her some more. "Underfoot," Leah would say. But for some reason, they could relate to each other, and had developed a bond that surpassed one's stuttering while tugging at the roots of the other's desolation.

  For the record, Leah herself had never owned a horse. That would have taken a direct commitment, something she wasn't capable of doing. Luckily, Shad and Phoenix, both abandoned and stray, had forced their way into her life, leaving her no choice. Ironically though, there was one horse early on that had tempted her, and more than once for that matter. That horse was Persian Son.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Christine Morrison thought the opportunity to serve as real estate broker for the Maple Dale development was exactly what she needed. It would be a diversion, a way to immerse herself, to hide, yes hide, not to mention what it could do for her career.

  The project's format included nine cul-de-sacs and three streets, the plan calling for a total of one hundred and twelve, three-acre lots. And she'd been so enthusiastic, so elevated, only to be brought crashing down by the death of Leah Oliver and the inevitable effect it had on her daughter Bethann.
In the weeks prior to this, she'd been able to distance herself from the reasons she'd spent the last year in therapy; her husband's alcoholism, her daughter's stuttering, and the senseless and archaic feeling that somehow she was responsible for both. During those weeks, she wasn't the poor, poor wife, the last to know, and such a nice person yet. She was busy, busier than she'd ever been, and couldn't hear the things being said everywhere she went. She didn't have the time. Now however, she would, and all because of Leah Oliver.

  Richard Morrison had long since given up on the hope that he and Christine could pick up the shattered pieces of their marriage and love each other as they once had. He himself, couldn't forget his own actions the past few years, let alone expect Christine to put his atrocities behind them. But exactly when and how it all began, wasn't something Richard was able to recall. He couldn't remember if he'd turned away from Christine, seeking solace in alcohol and other women, or if it started the other way around. It all seemed so harmless at first, the irony being that Christine was hurt most by his initial swaying, and found that the hardest to forgive. No, Richard knew she would never forgive him, but held on to the hope anyway. After all, she had agreed to let him come back home.

  As for Bethann, she couldn't understand why her parents remained apart, or even why they'd drifted in the first place. She was sure they still loved each other, but was equally sure of her mother's inability to compromise. Oh, she was well aware of the reasons behind their separation. It was hardly a secret. But so typical of adolescent reasoning, she wanted it all to go away like a scrape on her knee, and heal without even a scar. She was convinced they could be a family again. As sure as her name was Bethann and as sure as she stuttered it could happen, because it had to. It just had to.

  On that Tuesday, a beautiful Tuesday, with the sun shining through tufts of cottony cumulus clouds, Leah horrified her students when they found her in the barn, her face pressed against the cement with her eyes so ghastly. She was so young, people would then say. So young and with so much life ahead of her. But they didn't know her. Hardly anyone did. Time, time seemed so important. But the exact time of her death couldn't be determined, though the cause was indisputable. Leah had died of massive heart failure.

  Klaus had barely hung up the phone from the call about his father, when he received the one about Leah. Things happened quickly after that. The Century Home was burned to the ground, compliments of the volunteer fire department. Two of the barns were torn down, their siding sold at a premium. Trees gave way to chain saws. The arena now housed construction equipment. And the offices had been taken over by Walter Pugent, Maple Dale's developer.

  The Friday following Leah's death, Richard Morrison received a phone call from a colleague, and that evening at home, gave Christine and Bethann the news. Bethann had been named in Leah's will.

  Tears filled Bethann's eyes when her father just mentioned Leah's name. He reached for her hand to comfort her. "Honey, the worst is over. Losing someone is never easy, but I promise you, time will ease some of the pain."

  When Bethann nodded, dabbing at her eyes, her father continued. "Apparently she had no family, and has left her entire estate to you."

  Christine swallowed hard. "What's in it?"

  "We won't know until we meet with James Howell, but he alluded to it being her furniture and personal things. Some riding equipment. And oh, the best part." He hesitated, smiling."Her cat and her dog."

  Christine's face went blank, which was typical of her when she was trying to master her thoughts. "I didn't know she had a dog."

  Bethann nodded. "She d-d-did. His name is S-S-Shad."

  Christine cringed. "Is he small?"

  "No. He's a L-L-Lab."

  "And the cat?"

  "A l-l-little tabby. It was a s-stray."

  "Wonderful," Christine said softly, glancing at Richard. "Just wonderful."

  Richard nodded, looking quite sincere while smiling inside, something he'd perfected over the years. "The reason James called rather than notify us by mail, was the uniqueness of the will. It seems Leah had it structured to cover any unknown inheritance which may occur from her biological parents, which took some foresight on her part, I might add. Probating this is going to keep him busy for a while." He paused. "Anyway, according to him, she expressed an urgency for her pets, mainly the dog because of its age.”

  * * *

  Across town, Klaus Bukener was being addressed by none other than John Smith distinguished senior partner of Smith & Smith, Attorneys at Law. "The contents of the will and the way it was written, prevented me from telling you this any earlier."

  Klaus threw his hand up. "Bullshit!"

  John Smith sighed. "The fact remains, that your father made provisions for one Leah Oliver."

  Klaus folded his arms high on his chest and stuck his chin out like a playground bully. "Yeah, well she's dead, so it doesn't make any difference."

  John Smith felt the hair bristle on the back of his neck. He didn't like Klaus, and doubted if anyone did. "Leah Oliver is dead?"

  Klaus sneered. "Dead as a doornail. She died the same day as the old man."

  John Smith sat back. The senior Klaus Bukener had been his friend, a good friend, and a shrewd businessman, but most of all, a good man. How in the hell did he end up with a son

  like this?

  "So," Klaus gloated. "So much for ruining my plans."

  "Don't be too sure of that. If she has heirs...."

  "Heirs! Ha! She had nobody! She only needed herself! Don't you see? I win!"

  John Smith rose slowly from his chair. "That'll be for the courts to decide. And if their decision is in Leah Oliver's favor and she has heirs, they will inherit one third of Maple

  Dale. Now if you'll excuse me."

  * * *

  Leah couldn't understand why the back barns were torn down, why her house burned, or how it was she could sleep in the woods during a rainstorm, without getting wet.

  She'd been so happy to find Phoenix, but wondered where Shad was. Making her way past the smoldering remains of her home to find him, she suddenly became fatigued and laid down to rest. Phoenix curled up on her lap, purring, as she drifted off. A car pulled up then and parked next to the arena, only yards away.

  Christine gathered her things, got out, and walked toward the office. At the door, she thought she heard someone behind her. She looked around, but no one was there, so she went inside.

  Walter greeted her with a cheerful, "Hi!"

  Christine smiled and walked past him to her desk, then straight to the coffee pot. They'd decided to set up offices right at Maple Dale, and had settled into a routine of working well together.

  Walter looked up as she sat down. "Can you believe all the fuss in the papers about the old house?"

  Christine sipped her coffee, and nodded. "Yes. I can."

  Walter frowned. "Traitor." When Christine merely shrugged, he went on. "I just got a call from the Historical Society. And boy, you want to talk about getting reamed out."

  Christine sympathized, but not with him. "I think that was to be expected. Personally, I still don't see why it had to be destroyed. It was a beautiful structure."

  Walter sat back and scratched his head with a pencil eraser."It wasn't my idea, it was Klaus's. Besides, it was old."

  Christine took another sip of coffee. "Yes, and if it fell down one day, that would be okay. But to destroy it, to burn it down no less, ruffles the feathers of every historian in sight."

  "Yeah well, it's done, so we might as well just forget about it."

  Christine nodded, true, and was quiet for a moment. "Bethann'll be by later."

  Walter smiled. "Is she coming to see the progress?"

  "No, she's going to look for the cat that ran away. The one that belonged to Leah Oliver."

  "Ah yes. The Leah Oliver."

  Christine scowled. "Why do you say it like that?"

  "No reason, really. I just know I wasn't one of her favorite people."

  "Is i
t any wonder? Come on." Christine found herself on the defense again, first on behalf of the Society and now Leah. "She didn't want this development. She fought it with everything

  she had."

  "I know." Walter laid his pencil down and sat back. "But still. I came up here once when she was giving a lesson, right out there." He pointed to the arena. "She just glared at me, I mean glared, and if looks could kill." He rolled his eyes. "I only met up with her one time after that. She was walking her dog up on the north end where all the jumps are. And she wouldn't even look at me. A couple of days later she was dead. She seemed so young too."

  "She was the same age as me," Christine said. "But again, in all fairness, I don't think you saw her best side. It was just the project, and consequently, you. Actually she was well liked, especially by her students."

  Walter shook his head. Leah's story was sad, but life goes on. He picked up his pencil. "Here, come see, I'm rerouting the street on the southwest corner. We'll be able to save more trees that way and make Bill happy. Which reminds me, I was up there this morning and saw a cat. A small gray one."

  "Really? That could be it."

  "What kind of shoes do you have on?" Walter asked, leaning to look.

  "Loafers. Why?"

  "Let's take a walk up the hill. Come on. That way I can point out the re-routing to you. It just may help in selling the lots up there. Bringing the road in through the other way like Bill suggested gives it a whole new dimension."

  "All right." Why not. "Maybe we'll see the cat."

  As they walked around the back of the arena to the path that led to the cross country course, Leah watched. Phoenix had long since removed himself from her lap and was abound with

  his new freedom, meandering about the grounds like a stalking hunter. He scaled a tree quickly, but his skill proved inferior to his enthusiasm, and he lost his balance. A fall was imminent as he held on frantically with his front claws, hind legs dangling. Leah rushed to his rescue, scolding him and comforting him as she reached up and pulled him to her chest. By the time she put him down and turned, Walter and Christine were gone.