Whinny tossed her head in protest.“You’re not the boss of me.”Nevertheless, she came for her treats and brushing and, as always, dashed out to the field when Gemma finished, like she’d had a good day at the salon.
Hercules followed Whinny with a glance back at Gemma, grinning—yeah, he grinned—and trotted after the chestnut beauty. Silver checked on the puppies then tucked away in her stall for a nap.
How could this beautiful world that bloomed from the ashes of her old life be ending? How would the herd ever understand she didn’t mean to betray them? Betrayal was a sensation she knew well, and it was bitter.
Gemma had just finished with the goats when a dark Range Rover eased down the driveway. The driver parked next to the BMW, and Scottie O’Shay stepped out.
Dressed in an O’Shay’s shirt and dark slacks, her short hair styled in a way that accented the shape of her face, she looked like young Queen Catherine.
When Gemma met her halfway, she spoke without preamble.
“The queen,” Scottie said, her expression tight and drawn, “is not well. I don’t know, John almost sounded as if…” Tears rose in her eyes. “I’m going to Lauchtenland and I wondered if you would go with me. I don’t have any right to ask, we barely know one another, but I—I can’t go alone. Not on this trip. Not to meet my mother. Dad has had a big meeting scheduled in Miami for six months. Besides, I think this whole reveal has thrown him for a loop as much as me. I thought we’d go back to the way we were before, but now I realize we can’t. I can’t. I know who my mother is and there’s no forgetting.” The commanding princess of O’Shay’s Shirts quivered and her high, pale cheeks jutted over equally pale lips. Her eyes were full of frowns. “Gemma, if she dies and I didn’t meet her because of pride or fear, or stubbornness or the possibility of pain, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“What about Shug? Or Fritz? Don’t they want to go?”
“Are you kidding? Shug was mad as a hornet I found out. ‘That was never the plan,’ she said. She’s still ruffled about it. Fritz would go in a shot if I asked, but I can’t pit him against Shug. But even if I wanted him to come…” Scottie stepped closer, her hands locked and pleading. “It has to be you, Gemma. I’ve thought a lot about this. John knows you. He likes you. He brought you to Dad’s for dinner as a sort of bridge. Now I’m asking you to be that bridge again. Please. I know you have Ethan and Althea Shumaker’s daughter. If she needs anything while you’re gone, I’ll cover the cost. Car? Gas? Food? She can even travel with us if—”
“She started school. She has volleyball, her schoolwork, and a job. She’s a starting outside hitter and an A student. Also a starting guard for Rock Mill High basketball.”
“She sounds like her parents.” Scottie graduated four years ahead of Althea and Ethan, and five ahead of Gemma, but everyone in town knew of the super couple who rocked the halls of Rock Mill High. “I’d love to meet her sometime.” Scottie stepped closer. “But for now, I need you to go with me. I’m asking, begging. Please, Gemma. Like I said, I’ll cover any care you need for Imani.”
“She can stay with my parents.”
“I’ll cover your wages for the days you miss. In fact, I’ll pay you to come with me. Like a companion.”
“You don’t need to pay me.”
“Then a shopping spree. The Midlands is an excellent garment district. Dad’s been wanting to look at a textile company there for a line of winter shirts. But my mission now is to see my mother.”
No was not an option. Even if Gemma wanted.
“If you think I can help, of course. When?” She’d need time to make arrangements for the herd, the shop, and oh, she had a job with Taylor. Then there was Chandler. Shecouldtake him to John. But was she ready to let him go?
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Friday? Goodness.”
“I know it’s short notice, but a pilot friend of mine with a Gulfstream 650 is taking a couple of businessmen to London tomorrow evening. There’s room for us. From London we head to Dover for the ferry to Port Fressa. I’ve got my assistant working on a hotel and transportation.”
“Goodness.” Gemma felt a bit wobbly. And oddly excited. “Let me make a few calls but if you really want me to go, then yes, I will.”
Chapter Twenty
John
In the low, golden lamplight of the hospital room, his mother slept. The only cards and flowers on the mahogany table were from the Family. No one else knew except the prime minister.
Not Mum’s secretary or her personal assistant. Her hair stylist knew, however. Ingrid had been with Mum thirty years. She was a vault.
Lying there, Mum seemed at one with the white sheets, her complexion as pale, her frame buried under blankets. The blue lights of the monitor flashed and beeped.
Ingrid came round yesterday to wash and style her hair. She left it in long waves spread across Mum’s pillow. The sheen and shine appeared out of place against Mum’s frail, pale complexion, but John took it as a reminder of Mum’s strength and health.
Since Dad roused him from bed in the wee hours of last Saturday, Mum declined rapidly. She had trouble breathing. She was weak and had trouble with her facial movements. The doctors, which were the best in the land, possibly northern Europe, were flummoxed, doing their best with her treatments. They concluded an autoimmune syndrome was attacking her nerves and muscles. Or a rare sort of virus. Or, or, or… They were guessing in the dark.
How dare some nasty foreign entity or body malfunction bring down such a giant? John wasn’t sure the queen was even allowed to be sick let alone on the verge of…of…
He shot to his feet, not letting the thought sink in.Death.
