Stand By Me (18 page)

Marcus agreed. “That's what I'm seeing, little girl.”

“In court, the evidence will prove Jonathan's an upstanding businessman and citizen, and what took place in the parking lot was self-defense, he'll be exonerated. Brian's reputation will be his downfall bringing suspicion back on him. Sure, he's building the permanent market for the farmers to sell their goods, but he's not telling them the hike in their rent paid for that.”

Kenya sat forward. It made sense. Sully your enemy in the eyes of those they carry the most influence over.

Inside the stable, Kenya walked proudly alongside Jamie, his hand on her back feeding her a sense of acceptance. This was a hard group she faced, seeing, as she was the reason Jonathan was in prison in the eyes of those that didn't know her.

The sound of the other two-car motor's idling down the dirt drive behind them outside the barn brought her attention to the tall wooden doors. One pulled in under the trees closest to the stables then another by its back wheels. The weather had cooled since they arrived and the damp air forecast a rainy evening ahead. She bobbed from foot to foot looking at the beautiful land surrounding the stables. Folding her arms under her breast the sight of the person exiting the truck made her mouth go slack. She had no idea Gretchen was in one of the Jeeps, wrapped in a long wool trench coat. Jamie ran out of the barn gathered her into his arms and carried her inside, setting her beside Kenya.

Jamie's brow creased behind a serious frown. “Blakemore women are gonna be the death of me,” he said setting his wicked eyes on Kenya. They both had to be thinking the same thing that they could've lost Gretchen back there and Brian just became enemy number one.

Sophie marched over to Kenya, eyes blazing a fiery blue cursing Brian in a language she'd never heard before. “Are ye okay, Kenya? Ye can go and lie down in the main house and I can run the party with Jamie? You and the bairn have been through too much. The little one won't take much more.” Kenya hugged her letting her know she was okay.

“I'll only pace wondering what's going on if I go up to the house, Sophie. I feel safer here with my family. Let's just pretend nothing happened and get what we came for and free Jonathan.”

“Ye did nae sign on for this when ye married me son, lass.”

No she hadn't. But you can't screen the entire family before you fall in love. It doesn't work that way or half the world would never get together.

“Gretchen,” Kenya called turning back to slip an arm around the woman's shoulders and help her into the stables. The outside air held a hint of moisture and with the barn stable doors wide open it lit a fire to the ripe scents around her. Kenya tried not to notice or complain being the outsider, but the fact that Gretchen came out in this weather gave her pause. “Seamus? Is he okay?”

She patted Kenya’s hand. “No change, lass. But you're out here with me great bairn and I'll see no harm comes to this child.” She started ranting about Brian, but Kenya stopped her explaining how they didn't want to tip off anyone who may be reporting back to Brian and that they suspect he's behind that attack.

Kenya smiled and joined the other guests.

Jamie helped Gretchen to a chair and made introductions. “Mr. Glasgow, meet Mr. and Mrs. Claiborne, Kenya's adoptive parents. And this is her biological father, Steve Erickson and her brother, Michael Claiborne.”

She wasn't surprised by the stares. It was still new to her too.

“Aye, nice to meet you.” Glasgow leaned in sharing handshakes with everyone.

“Is this your farm?” Mr. Claiborne asked turning around a hand extended out over the stables. Kenya brought her hands down protectively when three large ponies approached the stable doors reminded of Jonathan's prized horse Max.

“The largest on the west end,” Glasgow commented chest poked out as his pride reddened his cheeks. He turned to Kenya his attention on her hands cradling her stomach. “Are ye okay, lass?” Glasgow's thick brows rose his stare following her hand concealing her belly, sort of. “Has Jonathan left ye with a wee present, lass?” Kenya dropped her hands propping one on her hip, uncertain if this was the time to reveal her secret? “Ye can nae hide it much longer, soon you'll be ripe as a pumpkin in October. Country bairn grow big and strong fast,” Glasgow's jovial tone said she has his approval.

“I’m Fine,” she assured him a hand on his arm where bulging muscles screamed of years of hard work, while she nodded toward the big horses. “They remind me of Jonathan's favorite horse, Max.”

He smiled then beamed when he proudly said, “Sired from Gunther, that big boy in the far stable.” Kenya looked past the long table in the center of the stables to see a whitish-gray horse's head above a stable wall. It appeared strong enough to drag a barn around, but it was evident his best years were behind him. The hairs around his muzzle were grayer than his coat a sign of aging. She shuffled through the hay scattered on the floor to get closer to the stalls and held a hand to the small horses the way Jonathan had shown her before they'd gotten into the argument about her not telling him about Brian's blackmail attempt over two months when she was here last. The horse dipped his nose down and Kenya found herself stroking his face lovingly, embracing the feel of power behind each breath he took through his nostrils.

“He's beautiful,” she praised caressing the big animal watching his coat shiver under her easy strokes.

“Yer did nae come across as a farming lass, Ms. Claiborne,” Glasgow told her coming up alongside her where he took the reins of the horse, leading him to the lower portion of the wall, so Kenya could pet his back.

“He's magnificent,” bubbling with praise she ran her hands up over the tough, stiff mane. “I know they're working horses, but do you ever braid their manes? Not for fun, but the same way they groom show horses. Tourists would love to have their pictures taken with a Connemara pony.”

Glasgow grinned and it met his eyes opening his face allowing his kind heart to surface. Kenya was winning them over. “Aye, yer city girl's showing Ms. Claiborne,” he admitted. “Me groomers make certain they stay brushed out. We run treks through the mountains and beach rides for the tourists.” He slapped a hand down the horse’s neck rubbing vigorously. “They're good strong horses, best in the breed.”

Turning her attention up to his face, she made a suggestion, “Try braiding them sometimes, their manes, adds a small charge to be photographed with them. Just a couple dollars and the children will be begging their parents to let them take a picture with the horses. Then if you want, do like Jonathan and put the money back into the community. Maybe computer paper for the schools or provide other school supplies.”

“Aye, ye do know our Jonathan don't ye lass.” His big grin warmed her heart.

“I like to think so, Glasgow. Jonathan impressed me a long time ago, proving he's a man worth fighting for.”

“My daughter has affection for animals, Mr. Glasgow,” Mr. Claiborne announced. She'd almost forgotten how much she liked animals as a child. She stepped back and crossed over to the bottle of hand sanitizer on the half-chewed shelf beside the door. Squirting a dollop on her palm, she rubbed her hands together until they were dry and the alcohol burned, but she felt cleaner.

“Me wife put that out here. Dinna think anyone would use it, but me stable hands are pansies when it comes to germs.”

She fed him her best smile. “Nothing wrong with good hygiene, Glasgow,” wrinkling her nose she moved over to the table. It was time to get the meeting started.

Kenya allowed Jamie to hold out a chair and she sat watching the others do the same. Thirty-five, forty women, some farmers some fishermen, sat around or stood along the buffet table. Manila folders lay filled with papers across the center of the table.

“Are these the testimonials for the judge?” she asked pulling them in front of her.

“Yes,” another of the farmer's agreed as she flipped through the contents, excited to see so many positive testimonials in the folder. It was refreshing to know that the people were behind Jonathan. She raised her head and took in the faces around the table.

“These are wonderful.” She couldn't believe the testimonials, the praises, and Kenya ran a finger along one of the sheets of paper and looked up at Jamie. “Jonathan will be out in no time with these. I can't tell you how much we appreciate you standing by Jonathan like this. He's a good, good man. All he wants is the best for West Ireland.”

“Kenya,” Jamie said getting her attention. “The people surrounding the Galway and Twelve Bens mountain range are a proud people and would never want Brian in the castle. Any one of them would tell you that Jonathan supports the community.”

Kenya shot a quick look at her mother across the barn and pride welled in her heart. Katherine was proud of her smiling bright.

A woman with mousy brown hair, eyed Kenya and she recognized her as one of the Shoppe owners. Sophie leaned in and whispered the woman looked familiar, but Kenya knew her from the Shoppe and dismissed her concern. Kenya sensed the weight of the other woman's slightly skeptical stare. “I hear Jonathan chose, you, an African American woman to bring in the Nigerian tourist dollar. Whose interest are you fighting for?”

Conversations filter off. “I didn't catch your name,” Kenya said.

“Moreen Flannery,” she replied.

“Moreen Flannery,” she repeated folding her arms under her breasts giving the woman a knowing stare. “You own, Needles Down, by the Shoreline Inn in Kerry town.” The woman blanched at Kenya knowing her. “If my being a black woman attracts more ethnic visitors, exposing your store to a bigger customer base, then I would think you'd be ecstatic as the hand knit sweaters in your Shoppe are quite expensive. I should know I purchased two on my last visit to Ireland.” She nodded toward, Marcus who held his arms out showcasing the cream sweater she bought. The crowd laughed and some gave Moreen a sad stare. Kenya continued, “As far as my husband choosing me as a financial move, because I'm black,” rubbing her neck she tilted her head down to think of the most polite way to address that. “As a lady, there's no polite way for me to answer that with my parents in the room.” The woman was a jerk.

Gretchen scowled at Moreen her cheeks flushing out to a beet red.

Michael got to his feet. “Well damn people, my sister's not on trial. She's out here in the rain, in a funky, wet barn, with horses so you can feel comfortable. Brought enough food and drink to feed a damn army, trying to save her husband, while under the impression you were all ready and willing to lend your support,” Michael charged standing beside Kenya. She looked up and it felt right for him to be at her side, a touch unfamiliar, yet right. “Don't cut-up out here. Either help my sister or go home, it's just that simple.” Michael was on fire. It's all about family.

Scrubbing a hand over his back, she felt for his black cape to begin flapping out around Michael's shoulders. Her brother had morphed into a superhero. Returning her focus to the faces around the room, Kenya added, “Any other pertinent questions, before we get to the actual testimonies?”

“Are ye gonna support the Blakemore family, and stay in Ireland, Ms. Claiborne? Or will ye skip off to the States after this is over?”

Could he not see her stomach, skipping wasn't an option. “I will do whatever it takes to protect Blakemore estate and Jonathan.”

A short stout man with hip waiters on, as if they'd plucked him from a morning of fly fishing set his attention on Jamie, then Kenya's father, then out the door, then back to Kenya. “Are ye supporting fishermen for Ireland or the U.S. shores,” his brogue was thick with uncertainty of Kenya's intentions.

Kenya stood and walked around the table and puffs of hay dust floated around every step she took. She realized the importance of them seeing her in the correct light and she would make certain they witnessed the true Kenya, businesswoman. She needed to show control.

Her boots thudded over the floor behind each step around the table. Kenya placed a hand on each person’s shoulder getting his or her attention before she moved on to the next. “West Ireland has much to offer the world, but there's a way to build the economy without abusing the land or the people. Now, Jonathan and myself want only the best for the people, the state and the land. In order to do that, I'll need your cooperation.”

“What exactly do the Blakemore's need?” the same woman asked, searching the other faces before settling on Jamie. “Jamie, does, Ms. Claiborne speak for the Blakemore's now?”

Jamie got to his feet and joined Kenya on the other side of the table. “Aye, ye will give Kenya the same respect as you have Jonathan.”

Glasgow stood. The table creaked under the weight of him resting his large hands on the wood surface his shoulders curving forward. “I know firsthand, Ms. Kenya Claiborne has our best interest at heart.” His heavy steps echoed in the stables on the hard floors when he walked around giving stern eyes to each person at the table. “Ye did nae see how she blocked Graham from taking money from yer farms. Ye only know yer charge went down. It's because of the lass that we can afford to make improvements with the rent going down. If anyone wants to challenge that, you'll challenge me.”

Kenya blinked at the fire in his words protecting her reputation. Jonathan would be proud of Glasgow for standing up for her. She said, “To quell your worries and concerns, I'm a Blakemore, now.” The stable reverberated with low mutters. She continued although some were still whispering, “Jonathan and I are married. Brian's attempt on my life and Jonathan in prison made any sort of celebration or announcement impossible and my safety was in jeopardy. I want you to know West Ireland is my home as well as the States. I care about both, just as it had been with Jonathan and Seamus.”

Gretchen got to her feet holding on to the edge of the long buffet table and addressed the room, her red and silver hair glowed under the stable lights. “The lass is me gran now. She needs your help. Do nae sit here with yer hands under yer bums tickling yer own fancy with yer lips pressed together as if you're all so innocent. The Blakemore's have been good to all of the farms and people in this community. Doona make me point out all the times, your farms were saved by Jamie or Jonathan during yer lean years.” Kenya couldn't believe the way Gretchen worked the room. “Seamus is home recovering. When he's ready to play with his first great bairn and something's happened 'cause yer all were too scared to speak up on Blakemore behalf, and this child goes into labor early...I'm coming for ye!” She wiggled a freckled finger chastising the group.