Seaglass

Copyright © 2015 by Chris Bridges

Publish Green

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Madeline could feel the edges of fatigue pulling at her and decided it was a good time to put down her pliers and crow bar and leave the little run-down condo for some fresh air. She walked back through the two-bedroom fixer-upper she’d purchased with every last dime she had to her name. It had potential, she thought. Maybe a little love and a lot of elbow grease, and it could really shine. She laughed at herself, thinking those words applied as much to her as they did to her shabby little condo. Grabbing a long sleeved t-shirt to cover up the jagged scar on her forearm, she locked the front door and started off on the path to the main part of town.

The air in Touchstone, Colorado felt magical to her; lighter and more peaceful than the oppressive, tony town she’d lived her whole life in back in New York. She breathed deeply and tried to let the little town with its crooked cobblestone streets and whimsical business fronts wash over her. She walked down Main Street and crossed at the traffic light onto Lake Drive. She could feel the pull toward the lake and soon she was sitting on her new favorite bench watching a family of ducks paddle by. Yes, she thought, this could be home.

Soon, it’d be hot, but not yet. She closed her eyes and let the spring breeze flow through her slightly sweaty hair as she tried to calm her racing heart. Moving here wasn’t a mistake. Going it alone wasn’t taking a risk. She could do this. Despite being told she’d fail by every member of her family, she’d gathered her strength anyway and come here. This was her dream and she’d be god damned if she let anyone get in her way ever again.

A lifetime at the hands of cruel and mentally abusive parents had left her adrift. At eighteen, when her friends were going off to college, she’d started intensive therapy and had begun the hard work of undoing the damage. It was working too; she’d starting making plans for the future. Then, everything had gone wrong.

Madeline absently scratched the scar on her arm. Even though it was well healed, it still itched from time to time. Now she pulled her sleeve up and studied the ugly mark. Doctors had told her that plastic surgery would help, but she didn’t want that. Instead, she wanted to look at that scar every day and remind herself of how close she’d come to giving up.

The tears pricked behind her eyes as memories of her grandmother swam into focus. Her sweet grandmother had rescued her in every possible way. After she’d completed a year of treatment, she’d decided it was time move away from her home town and try to carve out a new life for herself. Apparently her father had other ideas and had come after her with a vengeance. He’d used all of his usual weapons; guilt, intimidation, threats and bribery. She’d been so young and had believed him when he said she’d be breaking her mother’s heart. Why would she leave? The family was well respected in the town. Her father was the mayor. Leaving now would only cause more embarrassment for everyone.

She’d folded like a cheap suit and agreed to stay for a while; working for her father’s office and continuing to live at home. The first two months had gone by uneventfully, but when she’d finally worked up the nerve to question her father about receiving a paycheck, or the total lack thereof, he’d returned to the monster that she’d lived with all through her life. He’d mocked her. He laughed at her. He’d asked her to categorically list her contributions in the last two months and then determine for herself if she thought she deserved compensation. After all, he reminded her, she was an unskilled, low level trainee with no references. And she was living in his house, rent free.

He’d looked at her with that familiar cruel smile that had her blood running cold. She’d seen it her whole life. His was like a shark with the scent of blood in its nose. He wouldn’t stop. He’d never stop. She’d left his office without a word. She’d driven home to their big house in their fancy neighborhood and grabbed a utility knife from the gardener’s tool box.

Madeline had watched with total detachment as the dark red blood ran out of her arm and onto the brand new white carpeting that graced the newly decorated parlor. She remembered, as she began to feel lightheaded, that they’d have to have the carpet replaced. And she’d smiled.

Their new housekeeper, Angelica, had found her lying there, and for that, she was truly sorry. She didn’t really know the woman and regretted giving her such a scare. Angelica had called 9-1-1 and she’d been rushed to the hospital and subsequently saved. Once she was medically cleared, Madeline had been placed in a locked ward in the psychiatric wing of the hospital. It was only then, that her true angel had stepped forward. Her maternal grandmother, a woman that she’d barely known her whole life, had stepped forward and inserted herself in Madeline’s life. It had been like a miracle. She’d healed and grown under this gentle but strong woman’s watchful eye. She’d learned that love wasn’t supposed to come with strings or conditions.

Madeline knew her parents didn’t approve at all of the relationship, but she was over eighteen now and there wasn’t anything they could do to stop her, although they tried. She’d been immediately excommunicated from the family and all money was cut off—including a college trust fund that she’d eventually been planning to use.

Still, she was happy for probably the first time in her life. Grandma Elise’s house was full of light and love. Until she’d gotten sick and died. Elise had known she was dying and had prepared Madeline has much as she was able. She’d arranged for her estate to be left entirely to Madeline with the understanding that she’d begin again. ‘There’s a world out there, girl. Go and find it,’ she’d said. And Madeline had.

The total sum of Elise’s estate had been a little over a hundred thousand dollars. Not much compared to her father’s wealth, but enough for Madeline to grab hold of a dream she’d had for years—to fix up houses and sell them.

Now, she rose and stretched her aching back. She’d been on her hands and knees all morning tearing out old carpeting in the little condo. She could’ve had the carpet company do it before they installed the new flooring, but it’d be an added expense. Besides, she liked doing things herself, if she could handle the job, which reminded her she needed to hire a few professionals to handle the work she couldn’t.

With resignation, she walked away from the pretty lake and back toward Main Street. Gorgeous flowers seemed to spill out of planters everywhere. She didn’t have much of a green thumb, but thought she could handle a few annuals. Maybe after her stop at the lumber yard, she’d head over to the nursery and pick out something small (and cheap) to plant by the door.

Touchstone Lumber was a formidable building and as Madeline approached, she saw several burly looking men going in and out of the double doors, but she tried not to be intimidated. The fact was she loved places like this with the smell of sawdust and grease. It had bewildered and embarrassed her parents to no end. Whenever a contractor or carpenter had worked on their family home, she’d followed them around and tried to learn as much as she could.

She smirked remembering how it had annoyed her father that she had absolutely no interest in his political ambitions. He was the mayor of their town and was well regarded for his ‘return to family’ platform. The level of hypocrisy was not lost on Madeline. If only the public could’ve seen behind the curtain—they never would’ve followed him so unwaveringly. Privately, he was another creature all together. Cruelty was his private platform.

Madeline shook off those thoughts and feelings as she pulled open the door of the hardware store and inhaled the familiar scent of sawdust

“What can I do for you, miss?”

Madeline swiveled her head toward the voice and saw an older gentleman with bright white hair, matching beard and friendly smile peering at her over wire-rimmed glasses. For a split second, she wondered if she’d stepped into the North Pole. She quickly recovered and cleared her throat before speaking.

“I need a good contractor and I was wondering if you could recommend someone?”

“Oh yeah? What kind of work do you need?”

“I’m gutting a kitchen and two bathrooms. I need someone that can hang cabinets, put up molding. That kind of thing.”

“Husband’s not too handy, huh?” He laughed good-naturedly at his own joke.

“No husband. It’s just me.”

The older man pulled his reading glasses down a little on his nose and gave her a long look. “Well, Knox is back in town. He’s one of the best. Here.” He pushed a post-it note toward her. “Write down your name and number and I’ll pass it on to him.”

Madeline mutely accepted the pen and wrote her information.

“I would like to get a few estimates. Do you have more than one name?”

“I think you’ll be happy with Knox, but if not, come back and see me and I’ll see what I can do.”

Madeline watched the man’s face change into an unreadable expression before he took the post-it and tucked it into his front shirt pocket.

“I need to make a few purchases too. I have a list.” Madeline handed over her list of materials and watched the man raise an eyebrow.

“You know your way around hardware.” He whistled and made her smile.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then. You want this delivered?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful. It’s on Limestone Avenue. The group of condos at the end. Number 4.”

“That was old Mrs. Lester’s place.”

Madeline blinked in surprise. She knew Touchstone was a small town, but this was a little too intimate.

After seeing Madeline’s face, the man laughed. “She was my mother’s bridge partner for thirty years. I used to drive her there once a week. She passed away about two years ago and the place has been vacant. I heard it needed a lot of work.”

“Oh. Um, yes. It’s just a bit dated, but it’s got good bones.”

“I’m Ed, by the way. Ed Barrows.” He said as he stuck out a hand.

“I’m Madeline. It’s nice to meet you.” She said as took his hand. His grip was strong and his hands calloused from use.

“I’ll get someone to drop your order by sometime after lunch. Sound good?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Madeline responded and walked back out of the building feeling a little bit happier. She’d been such a solitary creature for the past year and a half and had told herself that she preferred it, but now she wasn’t so sure. Her hands ached a little from pulling out thousands of staples in the floor and she needed to get if finished before she could begin painting, yet she detoured to the nursery and decided to buy some flowers. Flowers were welcoming and maybe it was time she was too.

xXx

As Guns N’ Roses blasted out of the paint splattered radio, Knox planed the gorgeous piece of mahogany for the hundredth time. He blew off the thin layer of dust and ran his hand across the grain, satisfied at feeling no bumps or burrs. The piece would eventually become the crown jewel in the hand carved mantel he was making for a customer back east. Now, he let his mind’s eye wander over the detail work he still needed to complete.

When the radio suddenly snapped off, Knox jumped but tried to hide his reaction. He’d been discharged from the Army for almost three years now and it was time he stopped acting skittish. Or so he told himself. Truth be told, he wondered if he’d ever be able to let down the vigilance that came from knowing he could be attacked at any moment.

“Looks good.” His father spoke from the doorway near the radio.

Knox looked up and cursed his eyes when all he could see was his father’s dark silhouette framed in the sunny doorway. Another gift from his time in Iraq. Permanent damage to both eyes. His left was virtually useless and his right was…not great. The actual medical description was “moderate ocular trauma compounded by visual cortex abnormalities.” For him, it basically meant he was fucked. He could see, damn it. At least he could see enough to work in his wood shop and basically get by just fine.

“Get out of the sun, old man.”

Ed Barrows felt immediately guilty for making his only son squint. He moved quickly forward and shut the door, once more shrouding the workshop in the shadowy light Knox preferred. He watched his son as he moved to stand next to the beautiful mahogany mantel. Ed’s fingers itched to reach out and touch it, but he knew Knox preferred if he didn’t; at least until it was finished.

It had been a difficult adjustment for all of them. He and his wife Sheryl had just been so damn glad that Knox made it out of that hell hole alive. But soon enough, their euphoria turned to worry as the truth about Knox’s injuries came to light. They’d spent the next several months seeking out the best eye doctors in the country. No matter where they turned, the diagnosis was always the same. His vision was damaged, and the probability he’d lose even more of the remaining sight in his right eye was high. When Sheryl died from cancer later that year, she’d made Ed promise to take care of their boy, no matter what. Ed had tried to honor his wife’s wishes while simultaneously worrying he was being overprotective.

Knox had handled the news in his typical stoic fashion. The whole family had tried to get him to talk about it, but he wasn’t interested. He said he didn’t need a shrink to help him “adjust”. He’d retreated to his workshop where he’d turned a hobby into a thriving business. Ed was continually amazed at the level of craftsmanship his son could produce. As a boy, Ed had taught him the basics and Knox had taken to it like a duck to water. When Knox first returned home, Ed and Sheryl had been pleased and relieved that he was able to continue doing the work he so loved, but now Ed worried it was becoming a place to hide and avoid living.

“Looks like a real beauty.”

“Yeah. It’s coming along.”

“When’s the deadline?”

“At least a few weeks. It’s for a new construction project and they’re running behind, so I’ve got time.” He stood up from where he was bent over one of the finials and stretched his back.