Barefoot Summer (32 page)

“Your voice is still messed up.”

“They said it would take a few days. Want some breakfast?”

He perched against the back of the recliner. “I’m on my way to meet Daniel. Just wanted to see how you were doing today.”

“I’m fine, just fine.” She forced a brightness she didn’t feel into her tone and turned into the kitchen before he could look in her eyes and know she lied.

He followed her into the kitchen. “It’s been a lot. The fire, the news about Michael . . .”

“When did they tell you?”

“Yesterday after I checked on you.”

“Jade and PJ know too?”

He nodded. “It’s so much to take in. That Michael didn’t drown. That we might have some serious illness.”

She dumped her cereal down the sink, rinsed the bowl, not hungry all of a sudden. “I’m looking into that, just so you know. Drew knows someone who can help, maybe.”

He nodded. “That’s nice of him.”

She set the bowl in the dishwasher and shut the door. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Madison slipped her arms into the sweater and glanced in the oval time-speckled mirror. She wore a white skirt, a red sweater, and a year’s supply of makeup. She sat at the tiny dressing table and began curling her hair. Dottie had opened up her home for the cast to ready themselves in.

Volunteers had worked hard all week to set up a makeshift stage. A group from church had worked to replace costumes and props, and art students from Chapel Springs High had come in after school and assisted with the new set. They’d had two rehearsals on their new stage, the last one running late into the night. The hoarseness had left her voice, and the only remnant of the fire was the heap of brick and ash.

She wound a strand of hair in the curling iron and noticed her hands shaking.

Nerves. She wasn’t sure what was causing them: the imminent opening night performance or her conversation with Beckett the week before. She couldn’t expunge it from her mind. The way he’d pulled his hand from hers. The way he’d stood, so abruptly the picnic table had tilted.

But inside she understood. He wanted someone without the baggage. Her life was messed up, she couldn’t deny it. He’d seen her fall apart on her birthday, then days later she’d lashed out at him. She’d come unhinged twice in a matter of days, had practically lost her job. What man wouldn’t be spooked?

She was on her way to becoming a healthier, happier person though. She was journaling every day and was starting to sleep better. She’d slept until almost nine this morning, unheard of. She hadn’t had the nightmare in over a week, and she couldn’t help but think she’d turned a corner. She was nearly fit to return to work.
Thank you, Jesus. For the rest, for the peace, despite the storms.

One of the actors bumped her table as he scurried past her corner. “Sorry, Madison!”

The other actors dashed through the bedrooms, looking for props and wigs. Opening night began in thirty minutes, and she could already hear the buzz of the audience through the open window. The whole community was coming out to support the animal shelter. Even the nursing home was running shuttles. News of the fire had only spurred support.

Beckett would come, of course, to watch his sister. Knowing he’d be there made her nerves jangle more. It would be awkward, performing those intimate scenes with Drew, knowing Beckett was watching.

Stop it, Madison
.

She couldn’t be thinking of Beckett. She had to put him from her mind for the next few hours and concentrate on her part. She owed it to her fellow actors, to the audience.

She slipped a chunk of hair into the curling iron and wound it up. Her phone vibrated on the tabletop. She set the iron down and answered.

“Hi, honey,” Mom said. “Just wanted to wish you luck.”

“Break a leg,” Dad added.

“Thanks. I’m starting to get nervous.”

“You’ll be great, as always,” Mom said. “I’m so glad they were able to get the square set up so quickly.”

“I know. It took a lot of people to make it happen.”

“We’d better go, Jo,” Dad said. “We’re picking up your grandpa on the way,” he told Madison.

“I’ll see you at the party afterward.”

Madison turned off the phone and greeted Layla as she dashed by in her lab coat costume. The opening night party for the cast and crew and their families was being held at the town hall after the play. Her parents and some of the other families had been preparing for it all day.

Drew squeezed her shoulder as he passed, ducking to meet her eyes in the mirror. “You ready for this?”

“Ready or not.”

His pathologist friend from Chicago had agreed to look into the autopsy report, but he’d warned her these things could take awhile.

“You’ll be great. Just don’t forget that last bit of blocking we added in act 2.”

“I’ve been going over it in my head all day.” That and so many other things.

“Drew,” Celeste Parker called. “I need help with this bandage.”

“A doctor’s work is never done,” Madison said.

He patted his pager. “Tell me about it.”

Madison’s lips parted. “Oh, Drew, please tell me you’re not on—”

“Just kidding,” he said, eyes twinkling.

She swatted him as he walked away.

CHAPTER FORTY

B
ECKETT SETTLED DEEPER INTO THE METAL CHAIR AS
L
AYLA
appeared, the spotlight following her long-legged gait across the makeshift stage. She looked like a beautiful nerdy doctor in a lab coat and black-framed glasses. She delivered her lines with perfection and exited the stage. It was her third and final appearance.

A hush had fallen over the packed square as the play neared its end. The production had gone smoothly except for a curtain malfunction and a slight stumble by a minor character.

Beckett had arrived as the play started and slinked into a back-row seat. He was tired of the looks he’d been getting all week. Some sympathetic, some disgusted. He should be used to it by now. But this latest shenanigan of his dad’s was worse than anything he’d done before. The cause of the fire hadn’t been released yet, but this nonsense with his dad had to stop. Beckett was going to take action soon.

Seeing Madison onstage had been hard. He’d been over their last conversation so many times, he’d memorized it. And there was plenty he wished he could forget. Like the look in her eyes when he’d distanced himself from her. The way she’d caught her trembling lip between her teeth just before she’d left.

It had been hard enough tonight just seeing her, but watching Madison and Drew feign love . . . that was torture. He had a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with the coming climax.

Maybe that’s because they’re so good together, O’Reilly, you ever think about that?
Of course he thought about it. How could he help it, when the two had flaunted it all over the stage? If there wasn’t chemistry between them, they both deserved Oscars.

The man beside him let out a soft snore. Beckett envied him the escape.

A few minutes later the stage lights dimmed as the scene ended, then came back up. Madison was sitting on a bed in a robe. Someone knocked at the door. She opened it to Drew. He wore a navy suit that looked as if it had been tailored for him. Their practice was evident in the easy delivery of lines and their natural movement around the stage.

Drew reached out and touched Madison’s shoulder.

Beckett stiffened, the knot inside tightening as he recognized the dialogue. It was the scene they’d been rehearsing in the park when Beckett had rushed in like a raging maniac.

He forced himself to watch as Drew spun Madison around and pulled her into his arms. It was about that time that Beckett had landed his right hook. He clenched his fist, realizing with shame how good that would feel about now.

“I can’t live without you,” Drew said, leaning into Madison. “I know I don’t deserve you, but you’re my everything.”

She stared into Drew’s eyes for a long moment before shaking her head. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t you see, Eleanor? I can’t let you go. Be my wife, and I swear I’ll never make you regret it, not for a moment.”

Beckett clenched his jaw.

“I want to say yes. You know I do . . .”

He tipped her chin up. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Say you’ll marry me. Say it, and make me the happiest man on earth.”

Beckett was glad he was in the back where he couldn’t see the tears that were no doubt glassing Madison’s eyes or see her mouth softening at his words.

“I’ve loved you from the beginning. How could I say anything else?” Madison said.

Drew pulled her close and lowered his head.

Beckett fought the urge to look away.
It’s only make-believe. It’s not real. She doesn’t love Drew.

But maybe she should.

He forced himself to watch the kiss. He had to get it through his thick skull that Madison was not his, would never be his.

Mercifully, the lights dimmed and the curtain swept down. The audience cheered. The man beside him startled awake and began clapping.

Beckett stood with the rest of the audience, his mind on the final scene, on the kiss. He’d bet Drew had enjoyed it, had enjoyed all the rehearsals.

Much as he wanted to hate the man, he had no reason to. He’d heard nothing but good things about him. How could he deny that Drew was better for Madison? She deserved a man who could slide right into the McKinley family circle and never miss a beat. Drew wasn’t dragging a dysfunctional family behind him. Drew didn’t have a blemished reputation in the community or a father who drove drunk and burned the theater down. He wasn’t carrying a cesspool of genetics to pass along to her future children.

The roar of the audience grew louder at the curtain call. Beckett watched as they applauded Drew. He gestured toward Madison, who took a bow to thunderous applause.

A moment later the curtain fell, and Beckett drifted away
from the crowd. He wanted nothing more than to go home, but Layla was expecting him at the opening night party.

He turned toward the town hall, following other family members, his gait slow. The streetlamps glowed in the darkness, and a light breeze scented the night air with something sweet. He passed the vet practice and wondered when Madison would return to work. Wondered if the nightmares were better. She’d gotten some things worked out with God, she’d said. He was glad. God would help her through everything that lay ahead.

God could even get Beckett through this. Though at the moment, the heaviness of losing her weighed on him. He told himself it was for the best. Letting her go was the loving thing to do. And if Drew stepped into his shoes, it would be good for Madison. Painful as all get-out for Beckett, but he’d get over her eventually.

Wouldn’t he?

By the time he reached the town hall, the party was already under way. Families clustered under the dimmed lights, music flooded the spacious room, and colorful streamers hung in graceful loops from the high ceilings. The smell of coffee and popcorn permeated the air.

His eyes swept the room for Madison, though he knew it was unlikely she’d arrived yet. The rest of the McKinleys were gathered at a circular table near the back. An area to avoid.

A few minutes later he spotted Layla at the punch bowl on the far side of the room, opposite a makeshift dance floor. He wove through the tables toward her. She’d ditched her doctor costume for her usual jeans and finished it with a filmy white blouse.

He kissed her on the cheek, determined to shake off the melancholy. “Who knew we had such astounding talent in the family. What’s next—Broadway?”

Layla emptied the ladle into her paper cup. “Oh, shut it. I had a whopping four lines.”

“You were good. Totally believable. In fact”—he shifted to the side and lifted the hem of his shirt—“I’ve been having this pain right here—”

She elbowed him, nearly spilling her punch. “I have a pain too; need me to tell you where it is?”

He stifled a grin as he poured himself some punch. “I think I know.”

Beckett handed the ladle to the next in line, then moved over to the brick wall, wanting to find a place in the shadows. A few of the cast had arrived and were starting a line dance to “Country Girl.”

“Oooh, it’s my song. Come on, Beck.”

“Oh no. You’re on your own.”

“Party pooper. Hold my punch.” Layla shoved her cup into his hand and joined the growing crowd.

Beckett stepped back against the wall, smiling as he watched his sister. She laughed with another woman as they botched the steps. She’d grown up to be a beautiful woman, remarkably well adjusted.

The crowd grew on the dance floor until space required the dancers to take baby steps. One of the cast set his hands on Layla’s waist and pulled her against his chest as they moved to the beat.

Beckett straightened as Layla pushed the guy’s hands off and tossed her long hair, completing a turn step. When the man turned the other way, Beckett relaxed against the wall again. Maybe she didn’t need her big brother anymore. Maybe she could take care of herself. She was on the dance floor, living it up, and he was in the shadows, wanting to hide.