Kentucky Sunrise by Fern Michaels Read Free Book Online Page A

place. You said you loved spare ribs.”
    â€œYou remembered?” Emmie asked in awe as she yanked at a stubborn weed.
    â€œYes. Okay, I’ll meet you at seven tomorrow evening. I won’t be here tomorrow or the rest of the week. I’ll be back on the weekend, and then it’s off to California. I’m going to miss you, Emmie. I’ll call you, okay?”
    â€œSure. I’m usually here in the evening. I want to know how the film editing is going. It’s all so interesting.” She turned away so she could bite down on her lip. Her right knee was sending shooting pains up and down her leg.
    â€œBest job in the world. I suppose everyone says that about their job. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
    â€œOkay,” Emmie said as she scooped out weeds by the handful. She sat back on her heels and looked up at the porch, then down the length of the flower borders. It would take her days to get the gardens back to their original beauty. How could she have been so stupid, so thoughtless? How? She bit down on her lower lip knowing she was going to cry and hating herself for being so wishy-washy. She struggled to blink back her tears. Work through the pain, her mother was fond of saying. Only weak people get sick was another favorite saying. She wanted to scream but knew she couldn’t.
    She looked up to see the housekeeper standing on the front porch. “There’s a phone call for you, Miss Emmie. She wouldn’t say who she was, just that it was important she speak with you.”
    Emmie bounded up the steps just as the farm’s pickup appeared on the road leading to the back of the house.
    Gertie placed the phone between Emmie’s ear and shoulder so she could wash her hands at the sink. “This is Emmie.”
    â€œEmmie, this is Willow. Listen, Emmie, I need to talk to you. It’s really important. You’re the only one I can trust. Is this a good time?”
    Emmie was stunned at the words. “Actually, no, it isn’t. My mother just arrived today and . . . she’s going to be coming in any minute now. I can call you back later or you can call me later, after eight or so. Nine would be better. Can you do that?”
    â€œYes. Yes, I can do that. Emmie, promise me you won’t tell anyone I called. I’ll explain everything when I talk to you. Will you promise?”
    â€œYes. Call me after nine.”
    Emmie stared at the pinging phone in her hand. Willow Bishop Clay. The same Willow who married her half brother Nick and dumped him a few days later. The same Willow who went three rounds with her mother. Why was she calling her after seven long years? She shivered as she allowed her imagination to run wild.
    Her thoughts chaotic, Emmie watched as her mother and Hatch started taking plants and paint out of the back of the truck. Even from this distance she could see the grim set of her mother’s jaw and her stiff shoulders. She squared her own shoulders and marched down the steps, each step painful and jarring as she made her way over to the truck. She likened it in her mind to bearding the lion.
    â€œI guess you’re pretty mad, huh, Mom? Look, I’m sorry.”
    Nealy reached for another flat. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it. This place looks like some backwoods shanty gone to seed. Yes, I’m mad, so it might be a good idea for you to get your tail out of here until I calm down. When you’re in charge that means you’re in charge. You told me you were up to the job. What the hell happened to our yard boy, Toby?”
    â€œToby graduated from high school this year. I guess he had a lot of stuff going on at school and just didn’t want to do this anymore. He said he was going to find a replacement at least for the summer, but no one showed up. I let it slide. I’ll call him again.”
    â€œThe last thing I said to you before I left was to call Mr. Frances to paint the trim around the windows and