Dianne's Destiny Read online

  “Yeah. Come in. I need to change.”

  Ricochet waited in the kitchen, and Kip returned in a few moments wearing his shabbiest jeans, oldest boots, a baseball cap, and a torn Jason Aldean T-shirt. He moved to the refrigerator. “Wanna’ beer?”

  At Ricochet’s nod, Kip pulled two Budweisers from the fridge and handed one to him.

  Ricochet twisted the cap off and swallowed a long drink. “Have you seen Dianne lately? Is she doing better as far as those panicky things go?”

  “I think so. I saw her today, tried to talk to her. I’ll tell you this, I think that damn horse is better than any medicine those docs give her. You should see her around the arena. She sits a horse well.” Kip took a draw from the bottle. “Let’s head to the barn.”

  Ricochet stood and followed Kip outside. “What do you mean you tried to talk to her?”

  “She froze up, kind of panicked. I don’t know how else to explain it. I’m going to be there in that stall with Emperor when she gets there day after tomorrow. We have to face each other and talk this ghost out sooner or later.” Kip put both hands over his face and scrubbed at it. “She has to know I’m on her side.”

  “Agreed, but be careful. I’m not sure I could save you again. You drank yourself blind and still couldn’t forget.” Ricochet matched Kip stride for stride. “How’s Beth acting? Does she know about Dianne?”

  Kip shook his head. “Beth doesn’t know about Dianne and me, I think she wants me to ask her out more often. Maybe even work on some kind of commitment. Hell, I don’t know. She’s great, but I’m just not attracted to her that way.”

  A screaming whinny forced both men to run to the foaling shed.

  Patches, Kip’s favorite brood mare, lay on her side heaving and sweating. She nickered at Kip and Ricochet as they knelt beside her.

  “Hey there, girl. Something wrong?” Kip looked at Ricochet. “How long?”

  “Not sure exactly. One of the hands brought her up to the shed three hours ago. I’ll get Doc Brookes out here.” Ricochet pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

  Kip frowned and tightened his lips. Worry knotted his gut.

  “Shh, it’ll be all right. I think you might need a little help with this one.” Kip cooed and whispered in an effort to calm the mare when another contraction wracked her body. He rubbed his hands over the contours of her side and belly to discern the position of the foal. Kip looked up at Ricochet. “This foal is in position. I think he’s just a big ’un. Is the chain ready?”

  “Yep. Doc’s on the way.” Ricochet kicked some straw out of the way and handed Kip the long-armed exam gloves.

  Waiting for the latest contraction to abate, Kip pulled on the gloves, preparing to internally check the size and position of the foal. The mare whinnied, lifted her head, and dropped it to the ground.

  Ricochet kept a comforting hand on her side. “Another one starting, Kip.”

  Kip pulled his hand and arm back when the next contraction began. The metallic smell of amniotic fluid and blood mingled with the musty sweat of man and beast. “This little guy is front hooves forward for sure. He’s close, it won’t be long.”

  Two hours later with the help of the vet and a pull chain, a healthy colt was delivered. Patches was up and nudging her colt to his feet and nourishment. She licked him dry while he struggled to stand on weak, spindly legs.

  Kip and Ricochet stood side by side watching Patches. Kip felt like a proud new father looking at his baby through the nursery window. He reached over and shoved Ricochet on the shoulder. “You’re grinning like a damn fool.”

  “You ain’t exactly frowning, buddy. Look at that guy. Wonder how much he’s gonna weigh?”

  “Too soon to tell. He might be solid black except for that white star. Could get some hefty stud fees out of him in a few years. You hungry?”

  “Sure. How about a steak with all the trimmings? Your treat?”

  “You’re on.” Kip chuckled, rewarding Patches with a coffee can full of sweet feed along with a flake of hay.

  On the way to the steak house, Kip slowed and pulled off the shoulder of the highway, pointing to the mansion set back several yards from the road.

  “That’s where she’s staying.”

  Ricochet pulled a toothpick from his mouth. “Who?”

  “Dianne.”

  “In the Blankenship mansion?”

  “Yeah. Beth said she leases part of the upstairs. Do you remember having dinner there our senior year? None of us had ever seen such nice things. Our roots showed, didn’t they?” Kip laughed at the memory.

  “I imagine Dianne got used to fine things in New York. Mama said she lived in a million dollar condo, but you know how she exaggerates.”

  Kip nodded. “I think she lived a pretty lavish life style. She seems so fragile now. That mugging must have been hard on her, it forced her home. She’s lost her confidence and avoids making eye contact, but when she does those blues of hers could make any man falter.” Kip’s words ended on a sigh.

  “What would you do if Dianne told you she was sorry for leaving? Would you listen? Are you ready to deal with that?”

  Kip leaned back and shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can trust her. Besides, who’s to say how long she’ll stick around this time.”

  “No telling,” Ricochet said as they pulled back onto the highway. “With a flighty gal like that, you just never know.”

  Chapter 5

  Kip arrived at the equestrian center early to check on the horses. The quiet of the morning was his favorite time of day. He could think without the interruption of phones, clients, or business. He lounged on a bale of scratchy hay and sipped a cup of coffee. He brushed his hair with his fingers, stood, and paced the walk-way between the stalls. He was considering asking Dianne out for pie. Coffee and dessert seemed safe and noncommittal. They needed an opportunity to clear the air between them.

  Beth swooshed into the barn filling the air with the scent of lilacs. “Kip! Good morning. How long have you been here?”

  “Couple of hours.” He watched as questions flashed across Beth’s face. Her perfect skin had been enhanced with whatever women put on their faces trying to look natural, and her blonde hair was pulled to the side in a loose braid that draped over her right shoulder looked messy in a sexy way. She was a beauty. Most men would fall for her in a heartbeat. Heartbeat. That was the problem. She didn’t make his heart beat. Not like Dianne did.

  “Is something wrong?” Beth fiddled with a long angel wing necklace she wore over her T-shirt, then sauntered up to him and cupped his face in her well-manicured fingers.

  Kip gently removed her hand. He cleared his throat and scrubbed at his whiskers. “Nah. I just needed to do some thinking. I don’t know if I can go dancing Friday.”

  “You’ve seemed preoccupied. Can I help? Maybe I’ll dance it out of you Friday night if you decide to go. You love to dance.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be up to it this Friday.”

  A shadow passed across her face, then she smiled. “Well, of course you will, silly.” As if afraid to give him another chance to back out, she turned and left the barn with a backward wave.

  He shook his head. He would have to let her know it was no good between them. Not anymore. Maybe it never was.

  ****

  “I’m doing better, Dr. Murphy. The meds seem to be helping, but being around horses helps the most.” Dianne sat across from her trusted doctor feeling at ease. Even in a rare good mood. She had only been seeing this doctor since she returned home and had grown to love and trust him in that short time. The physicians in New York weren’t so personable and willing to listen.

  Dr. Murphy turned a graph toward her, showing her she hadn’t reported a major reported panic attack in two weeks.

  She took the graph. The first few weeks as a patient at the NeuroScience Clinic she noticed she reported several major attacks a day. There was a spike on her first day of equestrian therapy. It surprised her to
see, in black and white, how much she had improved since beginning therapy. “I admit that I’m a little bit shocked. You know how I felt about this therapy, it seemed so unorthodox. I do love being around that big, beautiful horse. I suppose I haven’t really given the incidences of panic or anxiety much thought lately. At least, I try not to. I just try to stay on an even keel.”

  “Have you considered becoming more active socially?” Dr. Murphy reached for a peppermint and offered one to Dianne.

  “Do you have chocolate in that drawer?” She tilted her head and pointed to the left side of the desk. She’d learned that the doctor kept candy in his desk.

  He smiled and opened the drawer. “With or without nuts?”

  “With, of course.” Leaning forward to take the candy bar, she grinned. “I’ve made some progress and joined a monthly book club. Tomorrow I’m going to get out early and visit some estate and garage sales. I need a few things for my suite. I left so much behind in New York.” She’d brought her boxes of books and keepsakes, but hadn’t bothered with hauling the bulky, expensive furniture. She didn’t want anything she’d acquired with Simon.

  “Good for you. Does it make you anxious to plan these outings?”

  “Not as much as it used to. I keep medicine in my purse. Just knowing I have it with me helps. I only get really nervous when I see Kip or if I’m put on the spot. Hopefully, going to some anonymous sales will help.” She settled back in the chair and crossed her legs.

  “How often are you having to take the meds for anxiety?”

  “I usually take one just before I go to the center. And sometimes before bed.”

  He nodded. “It’s good that you’re going to be getting out. However, why do you think it still bothers you to be around Kip?” He uncapped his gold fountain pen and made a note on the yellow pad in his leather bound notebook.

  She rubbed her hands on her thighs, cleared her throat, and drank some water. “I guess it’s because I know how much I hurt him. I am trying to work up the nerve to apologize to him. To seek forgiveness and clear up any misunderstandings. Kip has been treating me nice. He isn’t ignoring me completely like he did when I first started going to the center. Sometimes I actually feel like there might be a future here.”

  “You don’t have to decide anything until you’re certain you’re ready.”

  She sighed. “I’m wondering if I’ll ever be ready. I’ve considered moving to another city. I wouldn’t be happy, but it’s easy to disappear in a city.” She lifted her eyes and glanced across the desk, catching the look of disapproval on Dr. Murphy’s face. “I know you disagree, Doc. That’s just how I feel right now. Maybe getting out and about tomorrow will help. Put things in a more positive light.”

  “I think that will help more than you know.” He glanced at the clock. “Our time is up. Enjoy yourself tomorrow. Be carefree. Be indulgent.” Dr. Murphy stood to usher her out, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.

  ****

  The first cup of light, sweet coffee of the morning soothed her. She could think clearly when the day was young and quiet. Dawn edged over the eastern horizon, promising a beautiful day. She sat on the balcony watching gray move to light as the sun rose. The chilly air smelled fresh and clean. She hadn’t paid much attention to how polluted New York really was until she came home.

  Today, she’d hit the estate and garage sales. She’d mapped her stops the night before. The first, in the country club area, seemed promising. She put her hand over her chest, pleased that the increase in her heart rate came from excitement rather than fear.

  She dressed quickly, threw an apple in her bag, then left the house and climbed in her car.

  Traffic lined the block at the first address. She parked several houses away against the curb. A surge of competitive adrenaline raced through her. She wanted bargains. Gathering her phone, wallet, and keys she practically ran down the street and to the door.

  “Good morning.” A smiling, middle-aged woman at the front door handed her a bag and informational flyer.

  The newspaper listed two stained glass lamps. She quickly located them from the way they bounced color off the wall of the living room like rainbow crystals. She moved over to the lamps and found another guest studying them. The young woman ran her hands along the base of a lamp and sighed.

  “Aren’t they lovely?” Dianne smiled.

  “They are. I wonder if they’re the real thing. They’re priced like they must be. Too steep for me, but I would love to have one.” She nodded toward a gathering line of guests. “It appears others want to get a look at these lamps. Nice chatting with you.” She moved away, casting one more longing look at them.

  Dianne understood their value. They were definitely the real thing. Tiffany. She motioned for a worker. “I’ll take these lamps. Can you hold them for me while I finish shopping? I would like to purchase one of the desk lamps for the customer in the red blouse.” She pointed toward the young woman. “I’ll pay for them when I check out.”

  Two hours later, Dianne stepped outside and lifted her face to the sunlight, enjoying the cool breeze drifting over her skin. She smiled with satisfaction. It had been a great day. The young woman was thrilled about the lamp, insisting Dianne shouldn’t have, even while she held it like a rare treasure.

  Dianne was immensely pleased with her purchases—the Tiffany lamps, leaded crystal bowls and glasses from Ireland, Christmas decorations, and a very ugly but mesmerizing doll made of bone.

  She carried the items to her car and slid inside the driver’s side. She propped the doll on the seat, trying to decide what drew her to it. The bone was yellowed, and the doll’s drawn-on face had faded. What might have been hair seemed more like sprigs of straw. It wore a thin pink calico dress with ripped seams.

  “Well, you are different, that’s for sure. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, but I promise I’ll take good care of you. You appear lonely, like me.” She chuckled and shook her head. Talking to a doll? Not exactly a sign of a stable mind.

  After such a productive, relaxing morning, eating outside seemed the perfect way to end the outing. She grabbed a burger from George’s and went to a park across from the university.

  She found a bench overlooking a clear, small pond. Mallards took wing when she settled on the bench. The emerald green in the feathers of the drakes shimmered in the light. The hens were brown, but the white in their speckled feathers gleamed. They landed near her with a cacophony of quacking and graceful landings. She threw a hand full of French fries into the water. The ducks flapped their wings and ruffled their feathers as they fought for the treats.

  She laughed. “All right, guys, let me eat some of these.”

  Her serenity was tainted when an odd feeling that she was being watched crept into her consciousness. She looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Feeling foolish, she ignored the sensation and leaned back into the bench stretching her legs in front of her.

  Just as she was beginning to relax, the feeling returned. Goosebumps popped up on her skin. She sat up and rubbed her neck. She learned long ago to pay attention to her intuition. What on earth was going on? She stood and gathered her book and purse. Hurrying to her car, she quickly slid in and locked the doors.

  “This is silly. There isn’t anybody watching you.” Even though she tried to convince herself she’d been imagining things, her heart rate increased with uneasiness. What if she hadn’t been imagining it…?

  Shaking those thoughts away, she glanced at the treasures she had purchased. That’s what she needed to do, focus on something else. Eager to sort through the new items, she started the car and drove out of the park.

  As soon as she arrived home, she dug out the ancient doll. Something seemed to pull her toward that particular item, and the others faded in the background. She gathered cleaning supplies and sewing materials, and sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. She held the doll in front of her and noticed a design like a rose carved in her chest. Although she felt
silly naming a doll at her age, she decided to call her Rosa.

  She tore an old emerald green silk shirt in strips to make a dress and dumped a rainbow of permanent markers beside her. Two types of glue and sewing supplies lay on her lap. She scrubbed the doll, but the bone remained dull and yellow even after she cleaned it with a bleach and water solution.

  Sewing had never been her favorite chore, but she called on old skills and made a dress. She painted black curls on the head, gave the doll brilliant blue eyes and red cupid lips. Satisfied with the finished product she propped the doll against a stack of books on her recently delivered desk. “I wonder what your story is.” The doll’s newly painted eyes seemed to briefly glow with life, as if she wanted to tell her story. Dianne chuckled at her wild imagination, then climbed from the bed and put the supplies away.

  That night she dreamed of a female pirate captain in the midst of a raging battle at sea.

  Chapter 6

  The ringing phone startled Dianne awake. Who would be calling on an early Sunday morning? She didn’t bother to look at the caller ID before bringing the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

  “Good morning, Geneva. Or, should I say Dianne, since you’ve returned to the sticks.”

  She swallowed. Her tongue thickened making it difficult to speak. “Simon? How did you get this number?”

  Had he been watching her at the park yesterday? Was that why she’d gotten that creepy feeling? She shuddered.

  The last person she expected to hear from was her ex-husband. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since he had finally capitulated and signed the divorce papers. Shortly after their divorce, she’d been mugged. That incident had overshadowed the hell of being married to Simon, and she’d barely given him a second thought. Although, she had changed her cell number, just to cut off communication with him.

  Simon laughed. “Jocelyn gave it to me when I told her I needed to speak to you about some mutual property. And now, I’m here. In this Godforsaken place.”