They had wanted to buy her something less expensive, second-hand, but Grandpa Harding-Forbes had insisted his granddaughter drive a brand new, trendier car—after all, in another year she’d be going to college and would need something reliable to commute home on weekends and breaks. The next morning Madison received a call from the dealership in Emporia to inform her that a yellow Beetle had been ordered for Charity Peterson by a James Harding-Forbes with a fifty percent down payment paid.
Madison shook her head. Her father and mother always seemed to get their way.
“Take him back inside, Charity, and lock him in your room this time so he can’t get out. We’ll only be another hour or so. He’ll be fine.”
While Charity returned Baxter to the confines of the house, Madison added a few touches of raw sienna and cadmium yellow to the background.
With Baxter safely secured in her bedroom, Charity returned to pose in the field, and Madison continued to immortalize her daughter in a landscape of Kansas sunshine.
By the time Brody returned from their gallery in Emporia, the sun had inched its way closer to the horizon. Charity had just returned to her room to give poor Baxter some TLC. Only a few more touches and Madison could call it a night.
Madison started as Brody wrapped his arms around her waist, narrowly missing adding an unwanted streak of blue across the sunflower.
“Babe, that is Kansas on a canvas.” He chuckled. “Bit of a tongue-twister.”
Nuzzling her neck, his breath warm against her ear, he whispered, “Incredible. That has to be your best piece ever.”
“Ha, you’re only saying that because you’re biased.” Madison twisted around and stroked the brush down Brody’s nose, leaving a thin blue line on the chiseled bridge.
Brody’s brows lifted. “Biased? How can I not be when that’s my baby girl there, painted by the delicate hands of my very, very talented one true love?”
A soft laugh escaped past Madison’s lips as she greeted him with a light kiss. She smoothed her free hand over his five o’clock shadow then moved her fingers to the nape of his neck to loosen the band holding his hair back in a short ponytail. Soft brown waves spilled onto his collar, and Madison noticed that the tailored jacket he had left with that morning had been discarded. As usual. Brody hated having to dress up for the gallery. Give him a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and he was happy.
She smiled. “Time to let your hair down, my love.”
“It is. It’s been a pretty hectic day.” He drew her into a deeper kiss, no doubt transferring that blue paint to her cheek. Resting his forehead against hers, Brody’s ice-blue gaze searched hers. His voice husky, he mumbled, “I missed you at the gallery today.”
Her heart swelled. How she adored this man, even though at times he could be quite difficult.
Then again, so could she.
Both blamed it on the artist’s emotive temperament.
Emotive? More like explosive.
A slow smile curved her lips. “And I missed being there. Thank you for giving me the time these past few weeks to finish this piece.” Normally, Madison accompanied Brody to the gallery every Wednesday. This was the fourth week in a row that she hadn’t. While he curated the gallery with the help of his assistant, Ava, Madison churned out completed canvases—commissioned works plus the odd piece for sale to display in the gallery.
“It was for an important cause.” Brody gazed past Madison and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the canvas behind her. “You done?”
Madison turned around, admiring the portrait with more satisfaction than she’d done with anything else she’d painted. “I am. Finally.”
“And she hasn’t seen it?”
Madison shook her head. “Gives the canvas a wide berth every time she passes. She knows better. She’s a good girl.”
“The best.” Brody reached for the painting, his fingers carefully clasping the canvas frame at the sides. He lifted it off the French easel. “I’ll take this inside to the studio.”
He turned to go then paused. “Oh, I got Chinese takeout. I figured you wouldn’t have time to make dinner.”
“You’re the best.” Madison stretched to plant a quick kiss on Brody’s cheek before focusing her attention on packing up the easel—paint supplies and palette into the sketchbox first, then collapsing the legs and canvas arm. With everything neatly folding into one smaller package, a must for the traveling artist, she’d be ready to join Brody in no time.
And dig into that Chinese food. Her favorite.
She lifted her gaze to watch Brody make his way across the lawn.
“Baxter! Come back here.” Charity burst from the house chasing after the pup that flatly ignored her.
Oh no…
Madison dropped the easel and shouted, “Charity, get back inside. Now! And take that dog with you.” The last thing she needed was Brody tripping over a ball of cream fur, her not-so-dry painting crashing onto the grass.
Not to mention their daughter seeing the work of art they’d carefully managed to hide. Until now.
Charity skidded to a stop, hand in front of her face. “I didn’t see anything. I promise.”
Baxter continued on with not a care in the world. Tail wagging like a metronome set to prestissimo, the pooch was beyond excited to be outside once again.
Not for long.
“Baxter!” Madison rushed forward to block the pup’s path.
The Golden Retriever zig-zagged then double-backed toward Charity. As he neared her, Charity lunged and grabbed the puppy by the base of the tail. A loud yelp erupted before Baxter curled into Charity’s embrace.
“I got him!” she shouted, her voice triumphant.
As Charity shoved to her feet, dusting off her dress, Madison took one look and groaned. Would she ever get that grass stain out of the white cotton?
“Charity! Close your eyes.” The back of the canvas facing their daughter, Brody slipped past Charity and up the porch steps. He disappeared inside the house.
Phew. That was close.
Baxter squirmed in Charity’s arms, eager to be on his feet, running in the yard.
Eyes still shut tightly, Charity hefted him a little higher.
Defeated, the pup settled his chin on her shoulder.
“Charity honey, you can open your eyes now,” Madison said.
Charity’s eyes fluttered open, brimming with regret as she fixed her gaze on Madison. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I probably didn’t shut the bedroom door properly. Next thing I knew, he was headed for the back door.” Her gaze shifted to the easel and tubes of paint scattered on the grass. “Is there anything I can help with?”
“I got this, honey. But maybe in a minute or so you can heat up the takeout Dad got in town? I’ll be along shortly.” Madison returned to the easel she’d discarded on the grass and the paints that had fallen out of the sketchbox.
With her art supplies safely stored in the home studio, Madison joined Charity and Brody where they sat waiting at the kitchen table. Charity had already changed out of the dress and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Charity wasn’t a fan of dresses. It had taken a lot of arguments, eye-rolls, and because-I-say-so’s to get her daughter to agree on wearing the one they’d finally chosen for her party next Saturday. But Madison had to make sure the party was up to her mother’s high standards—well, as high as she could get it in Cottonwood Falls. And yes, especially Charity’s outfit. Her parents had insisted they weren’t missing their only granddaughter’s sixteenth birthday and planned to fly in from New York for the afternoon on the company’s nine-seater jet.
Charity looked up at Madison and smiled. “Perfect timing, Mom. I’ve just taken the paper pails out of the microwave.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Madison sank into her chair, exhausted, and reached for a container. General Tso’s Chicken with fried rice. Yum. That was enough to peak her flagging energy levels.
She unwrapped a pair of chopsticks.
Brody and Charity grabbed their food to
o.
Charity was about to sink the long bamboo sticks into her meal when she stopped. “Mom, is that blue paint on your cheek?”
Madison rubbed at her cheek where Brody’s painted nose had pressed against her skin. “Probably.”
Lips pressed in a thin line, a smirk hiding unsuccessfully behind it, Charity tipped her chin. “Right… I think Dad had a smudged line of exactly the same blue paint down his nose. I wonder how he got it. And you.”
Brody’s deep laugh circled the room. “Yeah, I wonder.”
Madison pointed a chopstick in their direction. “You two, eat your food.”
“So, baby girl, are you ready to take your driver’s license test? Only two more weeks…” Brody leaned his head back and dropped a piece of the sweet and spicy chicken into his mouth.
Beside him, Baxter whined as he watched Brody clamp another juicy piece of chicken between the sticks.
Charity’s head bobbed up and down. “I am, and I can’t wait.”
She leaned over and patted Baxter’s head. “That’ll make you ill. Only puppy food for you, I’m afraid. Besides, you’re just being greedy now—you’ve already eaten.”
Baxter dipped his head to the side in a sway and yapped.
Everyone burst into laughter.
Turning her attention back to Brody, Charity folded her arms on the table. “So, Dad, does that mean I’m getting a car for my sixteenth birthday? Seeing as you insisted I first complete a driver education course.”
Charity could have taken her license at fifteen, but Madison and Brody were reluctant to let their daughter grow up too fast. As Charity was only applying for her GDL at sixteen, she actually didn’t need to take the driver education course, but they’d both agreed they wanted Charity to know how to drive before she got her permit.
Brody feigned surprise. “Ha, a car? You just got a dog for your birthday.”
Charity leaned forward and melted onto her arms. Chin resting on her forearms, she looked up, the same puppy eyes as Baxter’s flitting between Madison and Brody. “I can’t drive a dog… It wouldn’t need to be anything fancy; just something to get me around.”
She heaved a sigh then pushed herself upright again and returned to her meal. “Anyway, I just thought I’d mention it…in case the idea hadn’t crossed your mind and you were stumped as to what to get me for my birthday.”
Madison ran her tongue over her teeth to hide her smile. Their daughter knew just how to wrap her dad around her little finger. Little did she know she’d already managed to get her wish without even trying.
“Eat up, honey, before your food gets cold.” Rising from her chair, Madison clasped her and Brody’s empty containers between her fingers. She walked over to the trash can and disposed of them. “I’m going to take a quick shower. After all, I do have blue paint on my face to get rid of.”
Brody’s chair scraped against the floor as he hurried to his feet, a mischievous grin on his face. “So do I. Think I should clean up too.”
After they’d all taken showers, Madison’s stretching a little longer than she’d anticipated because she’d had company, they plunked down on the sofa in front of the TV to enjoy some family time. If only life could always be this peaceful in their home. Madison hated it when she and Brody fought.
Charity hated it more. Her daughter never said it, but a mother knew.
When they’d watched a few of their favorite sitcoms, Charity carefully rose from her seat, a sleepy puppy cradled in her arms. Already, those two were inseparable. “Night, Mom and Dad. I’m going to bed.”
“Night, sweetheart,” Brody and Madison echoed.
Giving a lengthy yawn, Brody inched his way off the couch. “I’m heading upstairs as well. You coming?”
Madison looked up at him. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “In a minute, love. I need to answer a few emails, and then I’ll join you.”
“Don’t be long.” Brody’s roguish smile made her anxious to join her husband, but she had something she needed to do first.
Something important.
Something that could be life-changing.
Once she was certain Brody was safely upstairs, Madison tiptoed down the passage into their office just off the studio. She turned on her laptop and sank into her chair.
She pulled up the webpage of her favorite online art magazine, Art-e-Fact. She loved browsing through the site. So many interesting ideas and events. And one of those events had recently caught her eye.
Art USA.
The contest called for entries in all mediums—acrylic, oil, watercolor, pencil, chalk, photography, sculpture, bas-relief… You name it. If it was art, it could be entered. The only rule—the artwork must epitomize the artist’s home state where he or she currently resides. In the first round of the contest, a finalist from each state would be chosen, and from there, a first, second, and third winner would represent the best of American art.
Madison stared at the page for the umpteenth time since she’d first seen it a few days ago. It wasn’t the fifty thousand dollar prize money that had caught her attention though, it was the opportunity for an exclusive exhibition of the winner’s work at one of the most renowned galleries in New York City—Ellie Sanders. A Kansas girl, maybe the great Ellie would be predisposed to entries from her home state.
That could really put Peterson Galleries on the map. And Madison’s best friend, Sandy, agreed.
But would Brody allow her to enter? When it came to her artwork, his decisions sometimes seemed…shortsighted. But as curator of their gallery, Brody always had the final say. What if this was one of those times, however, when what he decided didn’t make sense and she lost out on an incredible opportunity? She could always enter and apologize later for going over his head if she actually got anywhere in the contest.
Dear Jesus,
How I love this prayer journal idea Aunt Faith started three years ago. Writing something to You every night is the thing I look forward to most at the end of my day (or most days because sometimes I get tired and forget, but I know You don’t mind, because You love me). I hope she sends another journal for my birthday, like she has every year, because this one is almost full.
I wish every day at home could be filled with as much love and fun as tonight. I hate it when Mom and Dad argue. That’s the reason I gave up painting, because if that’s what artists eventually become—irrational, jealous, possessive, unreasonable, and inflexible people—then thanks, but no thanks. I’ll take a different talent if You don’t mind giving me one.
Please, please let Mom and Dad always be this loving toward each other. Please help them to not fight.
With love
Charity
(Daughter of the Most High God)
(and Brody and Madison Peterson)
P.S. Thank You so much for Baxter. Again. Yes, Mom and Dad gave him to me, but I know You arranged that. I love him so much. He’s a bundle of fun.
Chapter Two
WHILE BRODY entertained Charity for the morning in Emporia, Madison rushed around trying to get everything ready for Charity’s party at noon. Not an easy feat with a puppy under foot in the kitchen, but she couldn’t leave Baxter locked in a room all morning. Especially as he’d have to spend the afternoon there too.
Eventually, Madison could take it no longer. Something had to be done, and outside on his own wasn’t an option yet.
“Come, puppy. It’s the upstairs bathroom for you.” She stooped and lifted Baxter into her arms. She stroked his fur, and in turn, Baxter licked her hand.
Several times.
“Oh, you are so cute, but it’s not going to help giving me those soft puppy eyes. I need to get done, and you are a big distraction.” Madison hugged him to her chest.
Big mistake.
That puppy breath just melted her heart.
No… Work. Birthday party.
Wrapping her fingers around Baxter’s button nose, she shook it gently from side to side. “And you’re getting time out until
your mistress gets home.”
Baxter let out a soft growl then a bark as he nipped playfully at Madison’s fingers.
Madison opted to shut Baxter in her and Brody’s en suite bathroom instead of Charity’s. If any guest needed to use the upstairs facilities, she didn’t want the bathroom to smell of puppy poop. And there were bound to be accidents to clean up when she returned. Only two months old, Baxter was far from house-trained.
As she closed the bathroom door, Baxter rushed for the gap, getting his snout wedged in the narrow opening. Two black eyes peered up at her longingly, while the small, wet button nose sniffed the air.
Lowering herself, Madison squatted in front of the door. “Stay, Baxter. It won’t be for very long. And please, please, try not to make too much of a mess.” Reaching up, she wrapped her fingers around the door handle then gently pushed on the pup’s chest until the door was free. She hurried to close the gap.
As she walked away, Baxter began to howl and wail and scratch at the door.
Oh, I hope that paintwork can stand the Baxter test.
With the kitchen finally cleaned up after a morning of baking and cooking, Madison set out the last of the food platters on the perfectly decorated dining room table—shades of pink and brown to match the embellishments on the three-tier cake just delivered by the bakery in Emporia.
How she would’ve loved to have hosted the party outside, but with the weather forecasting stronger winds today, she’d decided to rather hold the party indoors. The last thing they needed was everything blowing over or away. Guests would soon get irked at having their clothes and hair blown this way and that. Besides, Charity’s dress would never stay down if it got blustery. The wisest choice in Kansas was not to chance the weather. Thankfully they had this wonderfully large combined formal living and dining room where their twenty guests could comfortably enjoy the afternoon together without feeling that the space was in the least bit cramped.
Reclaiming Charity Page 2