Thirty-Two
Chris
How’s the shoulder?
Tuck
Hurts like the dickens.
Lamont
Exactly how painful is that? Is the Dickens scale literary or...
Chris
I don’t know whether to laugh or groan.
Tuck
Groan. That was painful. But not as painful as my shoulder.
Lamont
Can’t your girlfriend give you a massage?
Chris
Nice. Threw that in there all inconspicuous like. Now we can ask how they’re doing.
Lamont
You’re ruining the subterfuge, old man.
Tuck
Don’t worry, Chris. We’ll be all right. You’re now officially the fifth and oldest wheel.
Chris
I don’t like you guys.
Tuck laughed and slid his phone onto the coffee table, then sat back against the sofa cushion and focused on his breathing. Texting had distracted him from the pain a little bit, but using his left hand to text was aggravating. He didn’t need to develop carpal tunnel from overuse. What he needed to do was sit back and relax. It wasn’t like he had a day booked with business or anything.
Since the people of Eastbrook and neighboring towns had decided the McKinney name was tarnished, he’d been unable to get any more horse-riding lessons scheduled. And if Dream developed a fever from that abscess—though so far he was looking fine—Tuck wouldn’t be making any more money off his winnings either. That would leave him with just the filly, since the other two horse owners had dropped him.
Tabloids were lamenting the EHV-1 development and asking if horse racing was a business that needed to be stopped in order to ensure horses lived a long healthy life. Tack on last year’s debacle at Churchill Downs with a dozen horses dying, and the journalists were having a field day. Reporters seemed to have forgotten that investigations had been conducted by every race organization to ensure horse racing remained humane and there wouldn’t be a repeat of deaths at Churchill or other tracks. EHV-1 wasn’t in the same bracket as that disaster.
Something could be said for the practice of stabling the horses at communal race track stalls, giving them time to acclimate to the different track surfaces. But other countries let the horses remain on independent farms until day of race.
Tuck ran a hand over his beard. All this thinking wasn’t relaxing. Maybe he should go for a walk around the farm. Being stuck in the house was driving him bananas. He wanted to rip off the sling, but every time he removed it to shower, his shoulder protested the weight of gravity. Wearing it during the day made sense. Tuck just couldn’t handle the restrictions. The six weeks were dragging on forever.
He rose to his feet, then paused at the sound of the doorbell buzzing. He grimaced as his head rang with the echo. Most of his visitors knocked rather than pushing the offensive button. He should get it rewired and install a new bell sound.
Tuck ambled toward the front door and twisted the knob.
Oh boy...
“Mr. McKinney.” Tuck blinked. Yep, he’s real.
“Tuck.” Mr. McKinney eyed the sling. “Heard you were in an accident.”
“Had surgery. It’ll heal.”
Mr. McKinney visibly swallowed. “May I come in?”
“Sure.” Tuck moved to the side. His insides had tensed, and every muscle went taut with awareness. Why was Mr. McKinney here? Had Piper told him what his dad did?
Help me, Lord.
Tuck stood there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and make a plan of action. “Uh, do you want something to drink?”
“No. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.” Mr. McKinney gestured toward the one living room chair. “May I sit?”
“Of course, sir.” Tuck sat catty-corner on the sofa. “What brings you by?” Please don’t be furious with my dad.
Ian McKinney’s blue-gray eyes stared right into Tuck’s soul. “How long have you and Piper been dating?”
“About a month, sir.”
“A month?” Shock dropped Mr. McKinney’s jaw.
Tuck leaned forward. “Is that a problem?” he asked cautiously.
“Not at all. I honestly thought y’all had been dating a lot longer.”
“Really? Why?” He thought he’d played the role of a mere friend pretty well.
“You’re always together. When Piper lived at home, you came over to hang out often, and I know she did the same at your parents’ house.”
“I didn’t gather up the courage to tell her how I felt until a month ago. At the Jeff Ruby Steaks.”
Mr. McKinney nodded slowly.
“Is that why you came by?” If Tuck could just figure out what Piper’s dad wanted, then he could respond accordingly.
“Actually, I came because I believe your relationship with Piper could help me.”
Come again?“What do you mean, sir?”
“I want my family back, Tuck.” A weary sigh tore from his lips. “I understand why they’re upset with me. I know Piper’s working toward forgiveness, but...”
Piper was one of the most gracious people Tuck had ever met. However, she had a temper. It had just never been directed at him until yesterday.
Tuck ran his fingers through his hair. Okay, so he wouldn’t describe her personality as having a temper, but when wounded, the hurt ran deep and so did Piper’s need for distance to process. It was the reason he hadn’t reached out to her yet, even though Tuck was desperate to know they’d be okay and get on the other side of his mistake.
“Sir...” Tuck thought a moment before continuing. “Piper probably just needs a cool-down period. The shock of your admitted guilt and arrest was a lot for her to take in.” Even Tuck couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal from his former employer. And if Tuck had those emotions, he could only imagine the depth of hurt Piper carried. “Maybe you reaching out to her now would be better received.”
If she hadn’t told her dad about his dad, it might be some weird bridge to reconciliation. Then again, if Piper somehow sided with Tuck’s dad, the choice could widen the gulf between father and daughter. Guess hoping for a happy future in-law situation was a no-go at this point.
Mr. McKinney looked skeptical. “I don’t know about that. That’s why I’m here.”
“I’m still not sure exactly what you want me to do. How do you think I can help?”
“Talk to her. Ask her to see me.” Mr. McKinney’s expression became downtrodden. “I want a chance to resolve our issues before I go to prison.”
Tuck jolted backward. “But what about your trial? You haven’t even been sentenced.” His shoulder hadn’t kept him that far out of the loop.
“I’m going to make a guilty plea. I’ve talked it over with my lawyer, and I think it’s the right decision. Taking accountability”—Mr. McKinney gulped—“well, I think it’s the best way to move forward with my girls.”
“Have you told them?” Because this might break Piper.
“I told Piper. However, my wife is ignoring all forms of communication. If you could somehow get Piper on board to paving the way, then maybe Jackie would speak to me. I’ll be seeking an earlier sentence hearing, and I want them both to know.”
Oh man. This was a big deal. Once again, Tuck knew something Piper didn’t. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I wish you’d go straight to Piper, sir. She’s already upset with me because I didn’t tell her something I knew. She hates not being involved in... plans.”
Mr. McKinney’s mouth drew down. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” And truly, that’s why he was in trouble. He hadn’t told Piper about his dad’s whistle-blowing when he was in the position to do so.
“Piper doesn’t get mad over nothing.”
Tuck sighed. “I found out who reported on Bolt Brook. I didn’t tell her until yesterday even though I’ve known for a couple of weeks.”
“You mean you didn’t know your dad reported me?”
Tuck’s mouth dropped open. “You knew?”
“Yes.” A faint smile covered Mr. McKinney’s face. “You must be proud of a man who has such integrity.” His eyes dimmed. “Unfortunately, Piper can’t say the same for me.”
“But you can change, sir. There’s a God of miracles.”
He heaved a sigh. “I know you’re right, but in here”—Mr. McKinney tapped his chest—“that knowledge isn’t real.”
Tuck knew a broken man when he saw one. The world might not believe Ian McKinney was sincere in his regret, but Tuck recognized the light had gone out of the man’s eyes. He no longer looked assured of anything. Tuck could only imagine what being estranged from his wife was doing to him.
“I’ll pray for you, sir.”
Mr. McKinney bobbed his head. “I appreciate that.”
They each came to a stand. Tuck simply waited to see if Piper’s dad would say anything more. Then after a couple of awkward beats passed, Tuck broke the silence. “Will you be at the Derby?” Bolt Brook had been banned from racing for the next two years by the racing commission, so Mr. McKinney was no longer competition.
“Will Dream be well by then?”
“I believe so.”
Mr. McKinney rubbed the top of his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m kind of like a bad stain.”
“Understood. Maybe show up for Piper in some other way, without prompting. Women like that kind of thing.”
Take your own advice. Show Piper how sorry you are.
Mr. McKinney chuckled. “You might have more wisdom at your age than I did.”
“I doubt that. But if you hear any wisdom from me, know it’s actually from God.”
“He’s not talking to me right now.”
“Or maybe He’s waiting for you to talk to Him.” Tuck cocked his head. “This doesn’t have to end your relationship with God.”
Mr. McKinney slowly nodded. “I’ll think about what you said.”
Once Tuck closed the door behind Piper’s dad, he leaned against it. If he could encourage Mr. McKinney to patch up his relationship with Piper and her mama, then Tuck could trot on over to Piper’s house and apologize. He’d wanted to be there for her yet not make her life more difficult, but in making the decision to keep quiet, he’d taken away her choice.
He should’ve known that was a bad idea. After all, the one thing Piper wanted her parents to accept was that she was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. And good ones at that.
Lord God, forgive me for once again letting my desire to plan my steps come to the forefront. I should’ve leaned on You and sought You for courage to tell Piper the truth. I pray You forgive me, and I pray she will too.
Tuck headed outside and, unable to drive or ride Nutcracker, walked across the fields. He needed to seek a woman for mercy.