Barefoot Summer (27 page)

Upon sighting Madison, Mom tilted her head. “Hi, honey. I didn’t expect you at this hour.”

“You have a few minutes?”

“Of course. Go in my office, and I’ll flip the sign—not that I have any customers to keep away.”

Madison entered the room, which more resembled a turn-of-the-century drawing room than an office. High-backed chairs flanked a small fireplace that warmed her mom’s workspace
during the winter. A thick Turkish rug hugged the blemished wood floor and stretched across the space to a medallion-back sofa covered with a soft rose damask. Her mom had acquired the piece at an estate auction several years ago and refused to part with it.

Madison sat in the curved corner of the sofa, and a minute later Mom bustled into the room and sat beside her.

“What’s up, sweetie? It’s not like you to leave work this early.”

Madison breathed a wry laugh. “Well, Mom, long story short, I’m officially on a leave of absence.”

Her mom, patient as ever, took her hand and waited for her to continue. Madison hesitated to bring up the subject she’d tiptoed around for years. It wasn’t easy to break the habit.

“You can tell me, whatever it is.” Empathy shone from Mom’s blue eyes. Fine lines sprayed out from the corners of them, evidence of a woman who smiled often. Madison admired that, because she was also a woman who’d lost a lot.

“I’m not doing so well, Mom.” Madison toyed with a string on her purse strap. “I’ve had trouble sleeping for a while. I have—I have nightmares.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

Madison watched her hands. “About Michael. Always the same one. I won’t get into it, but suffice it to say it’s cost me a lot of sleep. I put off bedtime because I anticipate the nightmare, and then I awake with it and don’t want to go back to sleep.”

Mom touched Madison’s face. “No wonder you’re so tired all the time.”

“It’s starting to affect my judgment, my focus. It’s getting in the way of my life.”

“Is that what the leave of absence is about?”

She pictured Opus, his trusting brown eyes. “I made a mistake today that could’ve ended badly. Dr. Richards insisted on the leave, but, Mom, I don’t see how that’s going to help. I’ve been fighting this for years. I thought it would get better if I won the regatta, if I just achieved Michael’s dream. I thought it would go away, and that I could finally feel at peace about his death, but it just didn’t work. It didn’t work.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I have six weeks to get my act together, and I don’t even know where to start. Why can’t I get over the loss of him? Why can’t I be at peace about this? How did you and Daddy do it?”

“It wasn’t easy. I still miss him.”

“I know you do, but you’ve been able to go on. Your life isn’t falling apart the way mine is.”

“Honey, I just try to depend on God. I try to trust that He knows best, and even when I don’t understand the whys, I trust He has His reasons.”

“What reason could He have for taking a good seventeen-year-old kid from us, Mom? Michael had the rest of his life before him. It seems so unfair.”

“Life is filled with difficulties. This isn’t heaven. We have these big mountains, set right in front of us, and we have no choice but to climb.”

Her mom looked down, took a long moment, then squeezed Madison’s hand. “When you were a little girl, you didn’t like going barefoot, you remember? You had such tender feet.”

“The grass tickled, and the sticks and rocks hurt.”

“Even that time we went to Lake Michigan, you wore your sandals on the beach except when you were on your towel.”

“The sand was hot.”

“You remember Michael though?” Mom laughed. “Mercy, I couldn’t keep that boy in shoes. It was all I could do to make him keep them on at church. I’d come into the nursery and there his socks would be, all balled up in the corner, and him running around barefoot.”

Madison smiled at the remembrance. “We were different as day and night.”

“But still so close.” Mom tucked Madison’s hair behind her ear and looked at her knowingly. “Sometimes we have to find the courage to take off our shoes and feel it all. Even the bad stuff.

“Sometimes those negative feelings are so strong, they’re overwhelming, and it’s easier to just not deal with them. But they always come out one way or another. After Michael died, I was so worried about you. We all handle grief differently, but you . . . never crying, never letting it go . . . and missing him so much.”

It was true. Madison had only begun to let it go days ago. And she had a feeling that was only the tip of the iceberg.

“You’ve always been afraid of feeling, Madison. Sometimes those negative feelings are so strong, they’re overwhelming, and its easier just not to deal with them. But death is part of life. Not my favorite part, not by a long shot. But God does not owe us ninety years on this earth. Life is a gift, however long it lasts. It’s God’s to give and take away as He sees fit. We go through life thinking we’re entitled to our ninety, but we’re not entitled to anything. All we can do is trust that He knows what He’s doing. That He has a plan for all of us, and that no pain He allows in our
life will go unused. I suppose realizing that has given me a good measure of peace.”

Madison had never looked at it that way. Could she trust God with the future? With the past? She’d been angry at Him for so long.

“I don’t know if I can do that, Mom.”

Mom squeezed her hand. “You can if you want to, baby. I’m not saying it’s easy, or that it’s instantaneous, but if you ask God for help and truly seek Him, He’ll show you so many things. He can be your soft spot to fall if you let Him. But first you have to invite Him into your life.”

Madison had sat through enough sermons to know what that meant. She could’ve preached it herself. Something always held her back. But she felt that something giving way bit by bit.

“I don’t know where to start.”

Mom rubbed her thumb along the back of Madison’s hand. “What about the prayer journal? Why don’t you just start writing out your feelings?”

Madison’s laugh contained no humor. “Oh, Mom. God doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, believe me.”

“Honey. He can handle all your emotions. Every last dark and wretched thought. He already knows about them anyway.”

That was disconcerting. Her heart sped at the thought.

“Just write your heart out. Then listen. See what He has to say. What do you have to lose?”

Madison gave a sad smile. “I am kind of at the end of my rope.”

“Well, you know what they say about that.” Mom pulled her close. “Tie a knot and hang on tight.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

B
ECKETT MARKED HIS PLACE IN THE BOOK AND APPRECIATED
the view. The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky vibrant shades of purple. A soft breeze rustled the leaves and fragranced the air with pinesap. The rock, still warm from the afternoon sun, served as his footstool, the glowing sun his lamp.

His dad might be a wreck, his own heart a tangled mess, but up on this hill, it was just him and God.

His class had recently begun studying Ephesians, and Beckett had admired Paul’s persistence and courage so much, he’d bought a book about the man. He continued at the middle of chapter 4 where he’d left off.

When he reached the end of the chapter, a Bible verse caught his eye. He stopped, the words hitting him like a sucker punch.

“Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body.”

The words blurred as his thoughts spun. He’d been thinking since Friday about whether or not to tell Madison about his role in Michael’s death. It was hard to distinguish between his desire to protect her and his desire to protect himself.

On the one hand, all he’d done was stay silent. He hadn’t exactly lied. Was that so wrong? On the other hand, there was Madison’s pain and his part in it. If he’d never gone to the river that day, her brother would still be alive.

He read the verse again, letting it soak into his reluctant soul.
Telling her would cause her more pain. He might even lose her. He wasn’t sure which thought troubled him most. After hearing her weep, her sobs rising from someplace deep and dark, he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her more.

How would she feel, knowing he was to blame for Michael’s death? Would some part of her be relieved at finally having answers? Or would she only feel anger? Betrayal at his silence?

He’d been in denial before, thinking she was over her brother’s death, but Friday had opened his eyes. She wasn’t even close. Maybe someone never got over the loss of a twin. How would he know? He could only imagine if something happened to Layla, if someone had caused her death . . . He didn’t even want to think about it. And Madison was having to live it. All he knew was, he didn’t want to mess this up. The consequences were too big.

His eyes traveled back over the verse. He could lose her. He could hurt her even more, and she didn’t deserve that. How could he tell her the truth?

His advice to Madison surged to the surface. Hadn’t he told her she needed to trust God? They were supposed to do the right thing and trust God to handle the rest.

It was easier in theory, he realized now, but he felt the unmistakable nudging in his heart. He hadn’t lied with words, but sometimes the lie was the thing left unsaid.

He shifted on the rock, knowing in his gut what he had to do. He should’ve done it years ago. Maybe it would’ve comforted the family to know what had happened. Maybe it would’ve only given them someone to blame, but they deserved to know the truth.

He’d been young and foolish and wrong. Now time had caused the wounds to scab over, though in Madison’s case not heal, and he was about to tear them off.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

M
ADISON WALKED TOWARD THE THEATER EXIT
. R
EHEARSAL
had been a disaster. She’d flubbed her lines four times and had walked smack into a lamppost onstage, bumping her forehead.

With opening night four nights away, she’d only made everyone nervous. She wished she could blink and erase the whole day. She wished she could fall into bed and wait for sleep to claim her. But sleep was no oblivion. Hadn’t been for a long time.

At least she was seeing Beckett tonight. He’d been encouraging and sympathetic when she’d told him about her leave of absence, and she’d felt better by bedtime. But in the middle of the night, the nightmare had stolen the breath from her lungs, the hope from her heart.

She exited the building, her heart smiling at the sight of Beckett waiting by his truck. When she reached him, he brushed his lips softly across hers. Ah. This part of her life was good anyway. Very good. By the time he eased away, her knees trembled like stalks of wheat.

“How was rehearsal?”

“Ugh. Don’t ask. Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re worth the wait.” He gave her a quick peck before he opened the passenger door.

Inside the cab, Madison watched him round the truck, drawing in a delicious breath of spice and musk. She wanted nothing more than to settle into his arms and stay there all evening.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said after he got in. “Mom asked if we could give my grandpa a lift home from Bingo. He can’t drive at night because of his glaucoma.”

“The town hall?”

Madison nodded.

“It’s right on the way.”

Once downtown, Beckett pulled into a diagonal slot in front of the building.

They were almost a half hour late, but the sidewalk was empty. A puddle of light splashed down from the porch lamp, and metal hardware pinged against the flagpole out front.

“Hmmm. He’s usually waiting outside.”

“Let’s go in.”

Madison set her hand on his arm. “He’s embarrassed about needing to be picked up. The one time I went inside, he let me have it all the way home.”

She glanced at the clock. Maybe he’d gotten distracted with his friends, or maybe Bingo was running long. No one was coming or going from the building.

Next to the town hall, sounds of music and chatter filtered through the walls of a tavern.

“We’ll just wait then.” Beckett shut off the engine.

She pulled out her cell and turned the ringer back on. “There’s a message. Maybe he got another ride.” She pushed Play and listened.

“Hey, sweetie,” Mom’s voice said. “Grandpa needs to be picked up at
nine,
not eight. Sorry for the confusion—I forgot to add an hour to the time he gave me. If that doesn’t work out, give me a call and Dad’ll get him. Sorry!”

“Well, that explains it.” Madison turned off the phone and
filled Beckett in. “I guess he’ll be another thirty minutes. I’m sorry.”

Beckett settled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “Oh, man. You mean I have to wait in a parked truck with a beautiful woman?”

She put her hand on his chest and smiled up at him. “Well, when you put it that way . . .” She lifted her lips to his, and he brushed his across them. How could he stir her with the barest of touches?

When the kiss ended, it was only so she could settle in his arms. Contentedly, she watched the streetlamps kick on as dusk began to fall over the town. An eighties song thrummed inside the tavern, and a car pulled in next to them. A couple got out of the vehicle. The woman grabbed her man’s hand and gazed at him in adoration. He pulled her closer and kissed her temple.

The tavern music grew louder as a man left the bar and hopped on a motorcycle. The place was doing good business for a weeknight. She wondered what the people inside were seeking. Companionship? Fun? Peace?

She understood the last better than she wanted to. For a moment she was envious of the people inside, finding oblivion for a brief time.

That won’t fix your problem, girl.

No, but there were times . . . She stifled a yawn, last night’s lack of sleep catching up with her.

Her cell rang, and she checked the screen. “It’s Cassidy.” Her friend was still reeling with guilt about Madison’s leave of absence. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”