Saving Maddie (8 page)

“But I—but my dad—”

“Like I said last night, he’s just a man, Joshua. Just because he’s a preacher doesn’t mean he’s always right.”

I focused on Madeline’s face, the way her mouth formed a straight, hard line, neither frowning nor smiling. She seemed so sure of herself. Just like Dad. Just like everyone—except me.

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” she said as if she was reading my mind. “You just need to think about it some more.” Then she sucked in a deep breath and looked up at the trees. “I miss this. The quiet and the beauty. I always
felt closer to God out here than I did in any sanctuary.” She squeezed my hand, her fingers finally warm. “I could never find any place like this in Virginia.”

It was amazing how Madeline could be barreling headfirst down one course of thought and then come full stop and start talking about something else.

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” I looked up; the pines stretched into forever. “I tried to come out here a few times, but I always felt weird. This was your place. I always felt like I was intruding.”

“You never brought Jenn out here?”

I shook my head. “She wouldn’t have liked it. She isn’t into nature.” I stared at Madeline as she leaned back, her face to the sky. I wanted to run my fingers along her cheek, down her neck.

“Frank wouldn’t like this place either. Not enough noise.” I couldn’t stop looking at her neck. I suddenly wanted to know just how much of her body was covered in freckles.

I took a deep breath. “Maybe you need a new boyfriend. One that’ll appreciate things like this.”

“First of all, Frank’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I like hanging out with.” She angled her gaze toward the shed—away from me—and slid her hand away from mine. “I don’t even like him that much. Intellectualism isn’t his strong suit.”

My fingers were cold without Madeline’s hand on mine. “Then why go out with him?”

She shrugged. “All Frank knows about me is that I’m
eighteen, I live with my aunt, and I work at a coffee shop. He doesn’t know that my father pastors the fourth-largest Baptist church in Norfolk. He doesn’t know I can quote almost any verse from the Bible. He doesn’t know I’d hoped to attend an Ivy League school in the fall.” She glanced at me. “To him, I’m just a girl who likes to drink a little beer, watch mindless teen comedies, and fool around.”

“Don’t you want more?”

“Like what? Clever conversation?” She nudged me with her elbow. “That’s what I have you for, right?”

I turned away from her, my jaw stiff.
Clever conversation.
That was all she wanted from me. That was all I was good for.

“You got quiet all of a sudden,” she said. “You okay?”

I shrugged in response. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Madeline staring at me, but I refused to look back at her.

We remained like that for a while, her staring at me and me staring at the back of my hands.
First Jenn, now Madeline. The curse of the good guy strikes again.

“Hey, I want to tell you something,” she said. She pushed my knee, forcing me to turn toward her. Then she repositioned herself in front of me, cross-legged. She brought her warm hands to my face and cupped my cold cheeks.

It would have been so easy for me to lean my face toward hers for a kiss. All I needed was a sign—
any sign.

Madeline didn’t look interested in kissing me, though. Her lips were pursed together, almost in a frown. She didn’t start talking until I had locked eyes with her.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a good guy, you know.” Her blackberry-sweet breath floated across my face and tickled my nose. “Good guys like you don’t belong with cynical, bitter bitches like me.”

“You’re not a …” I cleared my throat. “You’re not like that.”

Madeline laughed. “See, you can’t even curse,” she said as she patted my cheek. “I know it sucks, always being the good guy while everyone else is doing God-knows-what. But you have to be true to yourself. You’re a good, kind person, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Then she released my face. “Something tells me I’m going to regret this, but what the hell. Maybe I’ll go to that party with you after all.”

It took me a second to focus on her words. “You … you’ll go to the party with me? But I thought … but you said—”

“We’re friends, right? Friends are allowed to go to parties together.” She crossed her arms. “But just to be clear, we’re going as
just
friends.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to keep saying stuff like that. I get the message.”

She tilted her head to the side, making her smile look slightly crooked. “Joshua, when are you going to realize, when I say things like that, I’m not saying it for your benefit. Sometimes I need to remind myself.”

chapter 6

B
y the time I got back to church, the service was over. A few people tried to chat with me, but I was too caught up in my own thoughts to have a decent conversation.

What made Madeline walk away from the church? What had happened to her in the five years since she left Conway? Why did she hate her father so much? I was beginning to worry that he took “spare the rod, spoil the child” a little too literally.

And Lord forbid, maybe Madeline’s father
didn’t
physically abuse her. Maybe he did something
worse.

I shuddered and tried to ignore the cold, clammy sensation seeping into my skin. I couldn’t focus on this now—
I had a youth group meeting in five minutes, and I still needed to look over my notes.

I headed toward the educational wing of the church, but halfway across the parking lot, Deacon Briggs ambushed me. “Your daddy wants to see you,” he said, his eyes fixed on my collar.

I wondered if he could smell her scent on my coat. I could.

“Can you tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes? I have a youth group meeting and—”

“Don’t think he’s in the mood to wait, son.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me to the church.

Deacon Briggs didn’t release his grip until we were at Dad’s office. Mrs. O’Neal, the church secretary, pointed to Dad’s study. “He’s waiting for you,” she said. “Go on in.”

I took a few deep breaths and slowly cracked open the door. Dad looked up. “Come in, Joshua. And close the door behind you.”

I inched into his office. Dad’s desk was like him—big, strong, sturdy, unyielding. I sank into the chair across from him and offered up a silent prayer for mercy.

Dad peered at me over the top of his glasses. “I noticed that you skipped out on the service today. Are my sermons that boring?” He might have been making a joke, but he wasn’t laughing.

“I’m sorry. I planned to come back in, but I lost track of time and—”

“Do you know how it looks for the pastor’s son not only
to show up late for service, but then to sneak out a few moments later?” He took his glasses from his nose and placed them on the desk next to a golf-ball-shaped paperweight. “You’re my son. You have to set a good example.”

I squeezed my hands into fists. “I had a good reason for skipping out. Madeline came to church today.”

Dad frowned and sat back. “I didn’t see her in the sanctuary.”

“Well … she didn’t quite make it inside.”

“You’re telling me that she came to church, but she didn’t come for the service?”

“She wasn’t really dressed appropriately…. She got into an argument with her father and …” I shook my head. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Hmm. I see.” Dad placed his hands together, his fingertips barely touching. “I still don’t see what this has to do with you. Unless I’m mistaken, your mother instructed you to leave her be.”

“You were the one who suggested I talk to Madeline in the first place!” I knew my voice was borderline insubordinate, so I tried to tone it down. “You guys can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me to try to help her, just for Mom to tell me otherwise.”

Dad sighed. “I agree, your mother and I haven’t done a very good job of communicating with each other concerning the Madeline situation. However, that doesn’t change the fact that two days ago your mother told you to stop seeing Madeline.”

“But Dad—”

“Deuteronomy, chapter five, verse sixteen. ‘Honor thy mother and father, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee.’”

“What about the parable of the lost sheep? If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountain and search for the one that is lost?” I gripped the wooden arms of the chair. “We can’t give up on her.”

I braced myself, awaiting Dad’s rebuttal. Instead … wait a minute. Was he smiling at me?

“You missed a few words, but you got it basically right, although I like the poetry of the King James Version better than the New American Standard.”

What the—?
I was talking about saving Madeline, and all Dad could do was give me a lecture on the different versions of the Bible. No wonder Madeline walked away from the church.

The grin on Dad’s face was only momentary. He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze neither happy nor harsh. “Your mother is concerned that Madeline may have a negative effect on you, but I think you’re old enough—strong enough—to handle the pressure.” With the way he looked at me, I couldn’t turn away. “Do you really think you can bring her back to the church? Do you think she’ll recommit to the faith?”

I thought for a second; I wanted to choose my words carefully. I didn’t want to lie to Dad, especially here, at church.

“I really think I can save her.”

I repeated my words in my head. I didn’t think I was
lying. I
could
save her—just not necessarily in the way Dad was thinking.

“I’ll be honest; I’m not thrilled with the idea of you and Madeline being friends,” Dad said. “But like you, I’m hesitant to give up on her so quickly. No one is beyond saving, no matter what one’s father may say.”

That clammy sensation from earlier started to spread across my skin again. “Madeline’s father was pretty strict, wasn’t he?”

Dad nodded. “Greg believes his children should mind their manners and respect their elders, and when they don’t, he believes they should be punished,” he said. “But I don’t think he ever crossed the line, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

I stared at the floor, a sour taste at the back of my throat. “What if he did … more? Maybe something worse than physical abuse.”

Instead of replying, Dad stood from his desk and picked up one of the golf clubs leaning against the wall. He lined up at an invisible tee and took swing after swing.

I just sat there and watched him. This was what Dad always did when he was thinking.

Dad finally paused, leaning heavily against the club. “I’ve known Gregory Smith for almost fifteen years, and I’ve never even remotely seen or heard evidence of him abusing his kids—either physically or sexually.”

I rose from my seat. “But just because you didn’t see it doesn’t mean he didn’t do it. And that would explain why Madeline hates him so much.”

“A lot of things would explain why Madeline dislikes her father.” Dad sighed. “But I’ll make a few calls, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Thanks. That would make me feel better.”

Dad returned to his imaginary golf game, and after a few minutes of silence, I figured Dad was probably done talking. I headed to the door, and just as I opened it, Dad said, “And Joshua, don’t ever disobey your mother again. You’ll find that she—and I—can be a lot less forgiving.”

I turned around and nodded. “Dad, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Just don’t do it again.” He returned to his golf swing. “You’d better head to your meeting. You’re already running late.”

Meeting? What was he—
the youth group meeting!

I rushed out of his office. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten about the meeting. I was the one who’d scheduled it.

Mrs. Anderson smirked at me as I entered the library. “There you are,” she said. “For a second, I was beginning to think you had forgotten about us.”

I just smiled as I made my way to the front of the room. Mrs. Anderson had been filling in as our advisor for the past year, ever since Reverend Lloyd, our old youth pastor, took a position at one of the megachurches in Atlanta. Mrs. Anderson wasn’t exactly teen-friendly, but she let us run the meetings and plan our own events, so long as we didn’t try to do anything too unusual.

Although everyone between the ages of thirteen and eighteen was considered a member of the youth group,
only about twenty of us—well, nineteen without Jenn—were regular members. I had been the president for the last two years.

Before I could even call the meeting to order, Rachel’s hand shot up. “I want to add something to the agenda,” she said, not waiting for me to recognize her.

“And I told her we were not going to waste time discussing an issue we already voted on,” Donna said. Donna was the vice president of the youth group and her twin sister, Dora, was the secretary. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more prim and proper set of twins.

I motioned for Rachel to come forward. Donna and Dora invited themselves to the front of the room as well.

“Why can’t we have a revote about the praise-dance team?” Rachel asked. Her once-pink eyelids were now baby blue. “The only reason it didn’t pass the first time was because the twins bullied everyone into voting against it.”

Donna sighed. “I’ve tried explaining this to you numerous times, Rachel, but you refuse to listen. You were on the losing end of the vote. You can’t bring it up again.”

“But that’s not fair—”

“No, but it’s correct,” I said. I could see the twins smiling smugly. “However, someone from the winning side of the vote
can
bring it back up for a revote.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up. “Good. I’ll tell Cassandra to—”

“Hold on,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about this today—not during the meeting. We have too many other issues to discuss.” I patted her shoulder. “But if you want to discuss this after the meeting, we can do it then. Okay?”

Rachel’s eyes dimmed a little. “Okay, I guess.”

“Good.” I smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. She headed to her seat, pausing to mouth something to a handful of the girls sitting around her. They nodded in agreement with whatever she said, all the while cutting their eyes at Donna and Dora. The twins just stared straight ahead, their hands folded neatly in their laps.