I Know Who Holds Tomorrow (7 page)

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Authors: Francis Ray

BOOK: I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
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“Zachary.” With a mother's instinct she knew something was wrong. “What is it? Is it Wes?”
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his hand across his face. “He … he didn't make it.”
“Oh, honey, I'm so sorry,” she said, her soft voice filled with love and sympathy. “I've been praying since you called this morning. I know how close you two had grown in the past few years.”
“It's hard to believe he's gone,” Zachary said, unable to keep the hitch out of his voice.
“Do you want us to come?”
“No.” He reached for his handkerchief to wipe his face and remembered giving it to Madison. He used the back of his hand. “I'm all right, Mama. Daddy has to finish the renovations on the Stevenses' house by this weekend so you can go on vacation next week. You've planned too long to miss your cruise.”
“There'll be other cruises. You're our only child.”
So simple. Yet so profound. The vise squeezing his chest eased. “I'll be home this weekend to see you before you leave. Can I speak to Daddy alone for a minute?” He needed to talk and his father, who, as far as Zachary knew, was the only other person besides him who knew about Manda.
“Should I worry?” she asked.
“No, ma'am.”
“I suppose I can find something else to do. Here's your daddy.”
“Hello, Zach,” his father greeted. “She's going to worry until she sees you.”
“I'm counting on you not to let her,” Zachary said, positive his father would do everything within his power to keep his wife happy. Jim Holman had come into their lives when Zachary was eight years old. He had become a father to Zachary, and a husband to his mother six months later. There wasn't a finer man on earth in Zachary's opinion. “Before it happened Wes told his wife about Manda.”
“You probably think that was commendable. I don't,” his father said, making no attempt to keep the displeasure out of his voice. “It shouldn't have happened and he shouldn't have involved you.”
His father was right, but Zachary was involved. Inadvertently, he'd entangled his father when Zachary had made the mistake of listening to his messages in his office when they'd returned from inspecting a house he was building. His father had never liked the Reed family, who thought more of
money and prestige than they did of people, and after listening to Wes's panicky voice on the answering machine about the woman he'd gotten pregnant and asking for Zach's help, his opinion of Wes went even lower.
“I couldn't turn my back on him. I kept hoping he'd set things right,” Zachary said, his voice tired and strained. “He never did.”
“He used you,” his father accused, his words biting.
“We both know at first I used him,” Zachary admitted. He and Wes had gone through so much anger before coming to terms with each other. He'd envied, then hated, the popular, spoiled rich boy with equal intensity while they were growing up in the same small town. But eventually they had gotten past the hurt feelings of their boyhoods and moved on. It hadn't been easy for either of them.
As adults their friendship had grown slowly, cautiously, to deep affection despite their differences. Zachary hadn't approved of some of the things Wes did, tried to talk to him, but Wes always had an answer and an excuse. “He had his faults, but A.J. and Vanessa let him grow up thinking whatever he wanted, he could have.”
“Now you have to pick up the pieces.” His father's annoyance was clear through the line. “Again.”
“If I don't, who will? It's not Madison's or Manda's fault.”
“And you'd see that more clearly than anyone,” his father said. “You do what you have to. You can count on me.”
“Thanks, Daddy, for understanding,” Zachary told him, the tension all but gone from his body. “I have to go. Take care of Mama. I'll see you this weekend. 'Bye.”
“You know I will. 'Bye.”
Zachary disconnected the phone, then started back toward Gate i 5 to wait for Madison's family. A short while later the arrival of the plane was announced. He didn't need the picture to identify Madison parents. Faces lined with worry and grief, arm around the other, the older couple were the first through the disembarking gate. He assumed the attractive woman close behind them was Dianne.
Madison's mother saw the picture in his hand and moved with surprising quickness to him. “My baby. How's my baby?” she asked, her eyes imploring.
“She'll be better now that you're here,” Zachary said, knowing he spoke the truth.
 
 
Madison couldn't get it out of her mind. No matter how tightly she closed her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to think of something else, those last seconds with Wes, the image of his face, strained and imploring, kept swimming before her. He had tried so valiantly to say those last words to her and with them he had sliced out her heart.
“Manda's mine
.”
That betrayal hurt, and she felt worse because she was angry at him for his deceit and for putting her in such a position. She wished he hadn't told her, wished she could have kept the illusion that they had had honesty and trust in their marriage if little else. With his last words he had taken that as well, leaving her nothing.
And he was gone and she almost despised him for that, for telling her, then leaving her to deal with it by herself. It made her angry and ashamed. Wes was dead. How could she be angry with a dead man? Didn't that make her into something unconscionable and vile?
Tired of her own thoughts and realizing she was too wired to fall asleep, Madison tossed back the covers and reached for her robe. After a few steps, she became aware of the pounding in her head. She welcomed the distraction.
She was almost to the bedroom door when it opened. She'd thought she had no more tears, but at the sight of her parents and sister they flooded her eyes.
Eagerly she reached her family, for the solace and the comforting presence she had always been able to find with them. Then she was passed from her mother to her father to her sister, then back to her mother.
“Words don't mean much with all the hurt you're feeling, but just know we love you and we're here,” her mother said.
Yes, the words did mean so very much—they meant everything, especially when she was dealing with her husband's betrayal and her own guilt for her anger. How could he have done this to her? There was no answer, only the broken sobs that erupted from her own throat.
 
 
Visiting hours were over at Children's Medical Center but that hadn't stopped Zachary from returning after he had dropped off Madison's family
at her house, close to midnight. There had been too much death; he needed to feel life and hope.
He had known where to come.
Manda lay on her stomach, her thumb stuck in her mouth, whimpering in her sleep. He didn't hesitate. Picking her up, he took a seat in the rocking chair near the crib. Almost immediately the whimpering stopped, the thumb came out of her tiny mouth. He felt her little body relaxing, curling against him, and his own grief wasn't quite as sharp.
Life did go on. But what kind of life would Manda have? She had lost so much: mother, father … and she stood to lose so much more.
With troubled eyes he stared down at the infant asleep in his arms, her cheek pressed against his chest. All he could see was a mass of black curls on top of her head, but he knew the way her light-brown eyes lit up when she was happy, how her lower lip quivered when she was about to cry. If it was within his power, he would do everything he could to make sure her happiness far outweighed her sorrow.
To do that, he had to convince Madison to keep her. It was a great deal to ask of her, but he had no choice. He hated the duplicity, the lies that had to continue. She'd been lied to enough, but Wes's death and that of Manda's mother had left those behind with few options. Even if he hadn't promised, Zachary would have seen to Manda. He knew what it was like not to have a father.
He'd adopt her himself, but his attorney had already advised Zachary the chances of a bachelor being given custody of a baby girl were slim to none. And if Wes's parents wanted Manda, he didn't stand a chance.
A muscle clenched in Zachary's jaw. There was always that likelihood, but in his opinion they were too hard and cold to want her. Wes was probably the only person they both loved. However, if it became known that Manda was Wes's child, they might be swayed by public opinion. If nothing else, they enjoyed their social position and would go to any lengths to ensure that their status remained secure. The possibility that they might use Manda for their own selfish ends angered him.
He wouldn't allow that to happen. There were things he knew, secrets he'd spill if it came to that. Manda was going to grow up happy and loved. She was not going to go through what he had as a child.
 
 
They all repeated the same thing in various ways: their sorrow at her loss, what a wonderful person Wes was, her memories would comfort her. They didn't know that each time they said the words, she recalled Wes telling her that Manda was his, that with his last breath he had proclaimed his unfaithfulness.
All Madison had wanted was sleep, to shut off her brain. But first she had had to get through making the funeral arrangements, the wake, the funeral, and afterwards, when people came back to the house. They'd been everywhere. She hadn't been able to turn around without someone expressing their sympathy.
Occasionally she'd turn and see Zachary watching her, his broad shoulders slumped, his face tired and worn. She had wanted to turn away because he knew her secret and her shame. Yet Zachary's eyes had been so full of grief that she hadn't been able to shun him. That night after laying Wes to rest, Madison had taken off her wedding rings, put them in her jewelry case, then cried herself to sleep, unsure if the tears she cried were for Wes or for herself.
 
 
Long before the dawn broke Sunday morning Madison was awake. The same unanswered questions that had followed her into a fitful sleep were there when she awoke. Who was the other woman? What did she look like? When had they met? Who had approached whom? Had any of their friends known about the affair? Had Wes brought her to their house? Why hadn't Madison suspected? Was that Wes's first affair?
Madison flung her arm over her eyes. So many questions. Questions that she would never have the answer to. Interrogating the woman's aunt in the nursing home about her niece's illicit affair might yield some answers, but Madison wasn't that mean-spirited; besides, she remembered the old saying: Be careful of the rock you turn over … you might not like what's underneath. She couldn't take any more at the moment.
Wes's funeral on Friday had been on a clear, beautiful day with just a slight southerly breeze, the kind of day he would have loved to have spent on the golf course, a fact the minister had mentioned. So many people had been there that they had spilled out of the three-thousand-seat church. Although she had asked that in lieu of flowers donations be made
to MADD, people still sent them to their home. She'd forwarded them all to Parkland Hospital.
Unable to stay in bed another second, she got up, showered, then used every makeup trick she'd learned in the past five years to hide the grief and strain on her face. She had to convince her parents she was well enough for them to go home today as planned. She couldn't stand seeing the pain and heartache in their eyes any longer. They were grieving for Wes, for her, for the illusion of a happy marriage they'd thought she had.
Happily married men don't have affairs.
Madison smeared her eyeliner. She snatched up a tissue. Her family could never know. At first it had been pride that had kept her silent; then her mother had had a heart attack a year ago. The doctor had warned them against undue stress in the future. She'd retired from her position as a school secretary and now volunteered at the same high school in the library and spoiled her grandchildren every chance she got.
Madison wasn't going to do or say anything that might adversely affect her mother's health. That was another reason they had to leave. It was becoming more and more difficult to mask her anger behind her grief. Finished with her makeup, she dressed in a simple white blouse and slacks, then left her room.
All four were in the kitchen. Her brother-in-law had arrived the day after her family. Her mother was at the stove cooking and Dianne was pouring the men coffee. The moment Madison entered the room her mother left the skillet she had been tending and came to her. “Good morning, Madison,” she said, studying her daughter's face with a mother's discerning eyes and seeing beneath the makeup. “Baby, I think I should stay. Your father and I discussed it last night. Neither one of us thinks you should be left alone.”
Madison's gaze went to her father, the morning newspaper in his hands forgotten. They were the solid unit she'd dreamed and prayed to have in her own marriage. Tears of regret stung her throat. “I'll be fine.” She hugged her mother, then stepped away when she wanted to cling. “Your plane leaves at four and you're going to be on it.”

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