Barefoot Summer (23 page)

Finally Curtis pursed his lips, nodded once. Beckett headed her way, an unreadable expression on his face.

He pulled her arm. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

“Where we going?”

“We have ten minutes to get your boat ready. Hustle up.”

She stopped at the boat, frowning. “But who’s going to help me?”

He gave her a crooked grin. “Meet your new crew.”

“But—but your boat—the prize money . . .”

“You going to stand there yapping, or are you going to help me out here?” He’d already hopped in, started the motor. He tossed her a PFD. “Get your mind in the game, McKinley. We’re gonna win this thing.”

Half an hour later Madison had no room for extraneous thoughts. After Beckett caught her up on a couple of last-minute changes, they’d had a good start. She and Beckett were toward the front of the pack. She’d made some minor errors on the first few legs, but Beckett had helped her through.

Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades as they approached a port tack for the last leg of the race.

“Boat eleven on starboard tack,” Madison called. “We’re not crossing.” The boat was a sloop called
Glory Days
.

“Continue on port tack. Let’s dip ’em.”

“Roger that.”
Okay, Madison, come on. Two boat lengths. You can do this.
“Medium dip. No ease on the jib.”

“Got it.”

Keep going . . . bow down . . . a little deeper. Okay, come up now . . .
They were over target on speed, but not on angle. She needed more helm.

“I’ll sheet in to bleed off a little speed.”

“Okay,” she said a few moments later. “The helm feels good.”

Arriving at the last leg, there were seven boats in front of them. Seven! It seemed like so many.

Speed was what mattered now. Staying ahead of those behind them and passing the one directly ahead of them. No easy task, she thought, realizing it was Mrs. Etter’s grandson, Perry.

Beckett called out directions. She followed without thought. If anyone could read the wind, it was Beckett. A moment later she checked behind. They were widening the gap, and they were closing in on Perry’s boat,
River Rat.
His do-rag fluttered in the wind as he worked the mainsail.

Madison’s arms and back ached, but adrenaline gave her added strength and endurance.

“We’ve got to go faster,” Beckett called. “Bow down.”

Madison followed through, and the boat caught some air and sped forward. They passed
River Rat
on their starboard side, but Madison didn’t even give them a glance. They were fat on the
wind, making good time, and gaining on the next one,
Daddy’s Pride
, Cappy’s boat.

Come on, come on . . .
They were so close to the end, and there were still six boats ahead of them.

“We’ll never make it!” she called over the wind.

“It’s okay . . . remember our handicap.”

They sailed on. They were getting good air, closing in on
Daddy’s Pride
.

“The race is to windward!” Beckett called as they approached the boat. “Plenty of room leeward.”

Madison made the adjustments.

“Good!” Beckett said. “Holding speed now.”

They were edging up beside
Daddy’s Pride
, a couple boat lengths away. In the distance, the race committee boat marked the finish line, its orange flag barely visible. Four boats had already crossed.

Come on . . . come on . . .
They matched speed with
Daddy’s Pride
, going neck and neck with Cappy and his wife.

Beckett called out instructions, and Madison carried them out.
Focus, Madison. Focus.

A moment later they were pulling ahead, bit by bit. She kept her mind on the task at hand, her muscles protesting. She didn’t spare a glance at the finish line or at
Daddy’s Pride
, remembering Beckett’s advice to keep her head in the game.

They had to be nearing the finish line, but she focused on her job. The wind pulled at her shirt and tugged her ponytail as she made slight adjustments to the sheet. In her peripheral vision she saw
Daddy’s Pride
slipping behind.

They were making good time now.

Come on . . . come on. Finish strong . . .

And then she saw the race committee boat as they passed, heard the blast from the horn.

Daddy’s Pride
crossed the line a few moments later. From the deck, Cappy gave her a smile and a salute. Madison returned the favor.
River Rat
was shortly behind them.

When they reached the marina, they guided the boat into the slip. She removed her PFD as Beckett turned off the motor. He approached, all smiles, his hair a mess, his eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them.

“Do you think we have a chance?”

“It’s going to be close. We’ll have to wait and see, but I’m so proud of you, Maddy. You did great.”

He drew her into a hug, kissed the top of her head, and held her tight. Her heart thumped against his chest. What a thrilling ride! They’d done their best. All they could do now was wait.

“Hey, look at that.” He pulled away.

Madison looked toward the lawn and only then became aware of the cheering crowd. Then she saw what had drawn his attention. Neon poster-board signs dotted the crowd. They all read the same:
Michael’s Dream!

A lump formed in her throat. She put her hand over her heart as tears burned the backs of her eyes. She picked out faces in the crowd. Dottie Meyers, Maeve Perkins, Pastor Adams and his wife, the Kneeling Nanas, their faces wreathed in smiles. Everyone clapping, not only for the exciting regatta, but for her. For Michael.

She spotted her family heading down the sloped lawn toward the dock, PJ leading the way.

“I’ll finish up here,” Beckett said. “You go on.”

“You sure?”

He nudged her shoulder. “Go on. I’ll see you at the yacht club in a little while.”

Madison hopped off the boat and hurried toward her family. She was swallowed up with hugs and congratulations. Never mind that she hadn’t won anything—yet. She still had her fingers crossed.

She hung with her family, filling them in on all the details of the race. It had been fun and exciting, she was surprised to admit. She’d made her share of mistakes, but they’d done well. Maybe well enough to win.

The minutes dragged as she waited for the awards ceremony. When the time finally arrived, Madison and her family joined the throng of people on the yacht club lawn. The Club Commodore stood on the deck of the club at the podium and thanked everyone for supporting the regatta. Daniel was behind him, dressed in khakis and a polo in his official role as mayor.

By the time he was ready to announce the winners, Madison’s nerves were stretched as taut as they could be.

Beckett appeared at her side and took her hand, the gesture ushering in a moment of tension. Word had spread that they were dating, but her family hadn’t seen them as a couple until now. Surely he’d earned some respect with the sacrifice he’d made on her behalf today.

“Good luck,” he whispered.

“Here goes nothing,” she said.

The crowd hushed. Madison’s heart fluttered in her chest.

“In third place,” the Commodore said, “with a corrected time of forty-seven minutes and nineteen seconds, is
Bluegrass Baby
.”

The crowd cheered, and the team went forward to collect their trophy.

After they left the stage, the Commodore continued. “In second place, with a corrected time of forty-six minutes and twelve seconds, is
Daddy’s Pride
.”

Cappy had come in second.
Good for him.
She smiled and applauded. They’d beat Cappy, but how did the handicap play into it?

“Breathe,” Beckett whispered in her ear.

Madison realized she’d been holding her breath. Her palm sweated against his. What if they didn’t win? What if it was all for nothing? Finishing second or third would’ve been better than not finishing at all. The cup winner was all that remained. It was all or nothing now.

“And finally,” the Commodore said, “the winner of the River Sail Regatta, with a corrected time of forty-five minutes and fifty seconds, is . . .”

Beckett squeezed her hand. Madison’s breath caught in her lungs, refusing release.

“
Michael’s Dream
!”

Her lips parted, her heart raced. Had he just said—

Beckett let loose a cry of victory, and Madison’s whoop joined the cheering crowd. She followed him through the crowd, accepting pats on the back along the way.

Madison’s mind was in a fog as the Commodore presented them with the regatta cup and a check from the sailing club. The crowd cheered for so long, it brought tears to Madison’s eyes. When the Commodore finally closed the ceremony, the crowd began to disperse.

Beckett drew her into a hug. “You did it, Maddy. You did it.”

“
We
did it.” She hung on tight, her heart thumping against his
chest. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. Thank you so much. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“My pleasure,” he whispered.

His arms were tight around her, his breath on her temple stirring the hairs that had escaped her hat.

They’d done it . . . they’d won! Madison turned her face toward the sun, closed her eyes a moment, and smiled, catching her breath.
We did it, Michael. We did it.
It was over now. She could rest, knowing her brother’s dream had been reached.

And then, because the moment didn’t seem complete without it, she whispered a prayer.
Thanks, God. Thanks for hearing me.
Something welled up inside. Gratitude mixed with something else she couldn’t define. Maybe God did care. Maybe He did want her to find peace after all.

“Congrats, Madison!” Her parents appeared at the base of the deck, followed by the rest of her family.

“Let’s see that thing,” Dad said, sparing Beckett a stiff smile.

Beckett handed over the cup.

“Such an exciting race!” Mom said. “That was so nice of you to fill in for Evan.”

“I couldn’t have done it without him. Not any of it.” She beamed at Beckett.

Dad nodded once and handed the trophy back to him, then turned back to Madison. “Your brother and sisters are holding us a spot at the pavilion.”

“You go on,” Beckett said. “I told Layla I’d meet her after the ceremony.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

M
ADISON LAY IN BED WITH THE LAMP ON, LETTING THE
day’s excitement rush over her. It was almost midnight, but she was grateful for the adrenaline that still coursed through her. She shifted and gave in to a grin.

The awards ceremony was a moment she’d always remember. Wearing Michael’s cap, holding up the regatta cup, Beckett at her side. Her heart was still warm from all the people who’d sought her out to tell her how proud Michael would’ve been of her today.

When the light had begun to fade, a local band, the Cornhuskers, took the stage and began playing some favorite tunes. The grass on the town square became a makeshift dance floor, and the white lights strung across the park twinkled above like stars against the black velvet sky.

Madison danced with so many partners, she was hard-pressed to name them all, but Beckett had claimed her every chance he got. Drew had asked her to dance once, surprising her, but he’d danced with other women too, and he’d kept plenty of space between them.

Beside her, the phone on the nightstand pealed, making her jump. At the foot of the bed, Lulu’s eyes opened, then drifted shut again.

“Hey, sis.” Jade’s voice only widened Madison’s smile. “Sorry to call so late.”

“Jade. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“You don’t think I’d miss your big day. How’d it go?”

“We won. We actually won. Can you believe it?”

“I knew you could do it.”

“We were in eighth coming up the last leg, but somehow we did it.”

“I’m so happy for you. Michael’s smiling down on you today.”

“I know. I can feel it.”

Madison realized she’d left out Beckett’s name on purpose. Maybe it was time to find out how Jade felt about him. “It was crazy. Evan Higgins had to leave town on a family emergency, and I thought I wouldn’t even be able to compete. But then Beckett offered to be my partner.”

“Beckett?”

Was there a twinge of heartbreak in her tone? Or was Jade only embarrassed at having mistaken his intentions?

“He’s been helping me with sailing and stuff this summer—we’ve kind of become friends.”

“That’s—that’s great, Madison.”

“Really? I thought you might be sore at him. You left so suddenly after your date and . . .”

“That was just a misunderstanding. He’s a nice guy.”

Madison felt a weight fall from her shoulders. “Well, enough about me. How’s everything in Chicago? Do you have a phone yet?”

“No, I’m calling from the café. We just closed for the night.”

She hated to think of Jade driving home at this hour. Or worse, taking public transportation by herself.

“So the job’s going okay? You’re making enough money?”