Barefoot Summer

by Denise Hunter

  Good grief, she was losing it. She caught up with the woman and handed her the medication. “Let me know if she’s not better in a few days.”

  Princess’s mommy said good-bye, then waddled out of the clinic, soothing the dog with baby talk. Her red wavy hair blended in with the dog’s shiny coat.

  Madison turned to Cassidy. “Thanks. I can’t seem to remember anything these days.” She lowered her voice. “Dr. Richards asked me to cover for him tomorrow, and I forgot.”

  “Whoops.”

  “He saw the schedule this morning, and knew I spaced it. Can you call and reschedule some of my appointments?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Cassidy Zimmerman had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. Today the humidity had caused Cassidy’s hair to form a mass rebellion against her straightening iron. She’d gathered it in a ponytail at lunch and now it stuck out like a bushy chow’s tail on the back of her head.

  “Oh, and my grandpa has an appointment Friday at ten,” Madison said. “So when you make the reminder call, don’t forget to subtract an hour.”

  “You and your wacked-out family.”

  “I never claimed we were normal.”

  When daylight saving time had been forced on Indiana, Grandpa refused to fall in line. While everyone else set their clocks ahead in the spring, his stayed right where they were. During the winter they all attended the late church service, but during the summer he showed up just in time for the early one. And for some reason, everyone else, including the clinic, accommodated him.

  “Your last appointment’s in room two.” Cassidy put the check under the cash drawer and closed the register, arching a brow. “Guess who?”

  “Not Bernie Schmidt . . . ,” she whispered. He was fifty-five if he was a day, and he hit on her every time he brought Flossy in—which was way too often.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, long as it’s not him, I don’t care.” Madison took the chart from Cassidy and felt her smile droop as she read the info sheet.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Madison arranged her features in a confident smile. “Good. Rigsby was overdue for his shots.”

  “You’re not fooling anyone, McKinley,” Cassidy called as Madison walked away.

  Around the corner she drew a deep breath, notched her chin upward, and entered the exam room.

  She caught a glimpse of Beckett reading a wall chart on heartworm before Rigsby clambered toward her, claws scraping the tile floor.

  “Down, boy!” Beckett grabbed the leash just in time. He nailed her with those dark eyes. “Sorry.”

  “He’s an adolescent male. It’s to be expected.” Madison gave the Lab mix some affection and began a general exam. Beckett was aloof as usual. He rarely brought Rigsby in and was always late on shots.

  Beckett held the dog still as she checked his ears. Rigsby was all wiggles, panting, and drool.

  His owner, coming closer as he reached around for a tighter grip, was all musky soap and biceps.

  “Sit, Rigsby.” Beckett’s low voice rumbled in her ear.

  She finished the exam as quickly as she could and studied the clipboard like it was her life manual. “He’s overdue for his rabies. Is he on heartworm?”

  “We’re almost out.”

  “I’ll have Cassidy get you some. Be right back.”

  She was relieved to be out of the room. She didn’t know why he affected her so much. She was going to have to get beyond this. Between the swimming and sailing lessons they’d be seeing plenty of each other over the summer. And, except for that one aberration, he’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t like her by avoiding her.

  Which makes your little attraction pretty pathetic. And don’t forget the incident with Jade. She still had no answers about that. Why did she have to keep reminding herself of all the reasons?

  She returned a few minutes later with the vaccine, injected 1.0 ml into the dog’s muscle tissue, and scratched the friendly mutt behind the ears.

  When Beckett released him, he scrambled to stand, tail thumping the wall.

  “You’re all done,” she said to Rigsby. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Sitting still was the worst of it.”

  Madison gave Rigsby a final pat and opened the door leading to her office. “Cassidy will have the heartworm meds up front. Bye, Rigsby. See you, Beckett.”

  Madison left the room and slipped into her tiny office, shutting the door behind her. She could hear Beckett and Cassidy talking casually at the front desk. Rigsby barked and they laughed.

  She pulled off her stethoscope and slid out of her lab coat. Well, he shouldn’t be back for a while, barring illness. Of course, that didn’t fix the whole swimming/sailing thing.

  She sat down and ran her fingers over the scrolled edges of the antique desk. She loved her desk. She’d found it after vet school at Grandma’s Attic, her mom’s antique store. The richly stained mahogany wood, the artistic detailing, and the heavy weight of the drawers spoke to her.

  There was a tap at the door. “He’s gone,” Cassidy said. “You can come out of hiding now.”

  From her seat, Madison snapped the door open. “You know, sometimes I think work and friendship are a bad mix.”

  “Face it, you’d be lost without me.”

  “I could do without the commentary.”

  Cassidy shrugged, all innocence. “I see what I see.”

  Madison crossed her arms, looking around Cassidy’s pretty face to her bushy hair. “It’s finally raining then?”

  Her friend gave a mock glare. “Low blow, McKinley.” She brushed past Madison and perched on the edge of the tidy desk.

  “So, you ever find out what happened between him and Jade?”

  Madison rooted through her purse for her lip balm. “He isn’t talking, and she’s nowhere to be found.”

  Her house was so quiet without Jade strumming her guitar, without the heavy footfalls, impossibly loud for her small frame. She was an easy housemate, always tidying up, a good listener. She had an out-of-the-box way of thinking that had helped Madison solve numerous problems.

  “But she called your parents, so you know she’s okay. And Jade’s always been resourceful. You have to give her that.”

  Fragile but resourceful. That was Jade. She’d worked at the local coffee shop by day and talked the owner into letting her play her guitar on summer weekends for tips. She’d made decent money during tourist season.

  “You don’t really think he hurt her . . . ,” Cassidy said.

  Madison tossed the lip balm into her bag and sank into her chair. “Something happened. I know Jade—she wouldn’t have left for no reason. And you should’ve seen her when they left that night . . . I hadn’t seen her so happy since before she lost Seth. She’d been getting these secret admirer notes. I guess Beckett sent them.”

  Cassidy frowned. “I can’t see that—her and Beckett.”

  “Well, he showed up and asked her to the banquet out of the blue. And he brought pink roses, the same kind her secret admirer left her.”

  Madison remembered seeing Beckett there in the kitchen, the bouquet of flowers on the counter, Jade running around getting ready, a flush on her cheeks. Even now, Madison couldn’t deny the tiny stab of jealousy that flared. She was an awful sister. Jade had been discontented for so long, Madison should’ve been nothing but glad to see her face lit up.

  “She didn’t say anything when she came home?”

  “I’d gone to the video store and stopped by the coffee shop. If only I’d stayed home, she would’ve talked to me. I would’ve convinced her to stay.”

  “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “I don’t—I blame Beckett. He’s always been nothing but trouble.”

  “Now, be fair. Maybe he caused his share of trouble in high school—”

  Madison shot her a look.

  “Okay, and a few years after. But he’s not like that anymore. He even goes to my church now.”

  �
��Beckett?” She had trouble meshing the two in her mind. Church and Beckett. Not that she had any room to talk. Oh, she went to church—she was a McKinley. But religion hadn’t done much good that she’d seen. Especially not for Michael.

  “He mows the church lawn every week,” Cassidy said. “And he fixed old Mrs. Barkley’s Ford in the parking lot after church last Sunday—in the rain—for free.”

  “All right, all right, he’s a paragon of virtue. What do you want from me?”

  Cassidy’s lips twitched. “An acknowledgment that you might be wrong.”

  Madison tossed her hair from her eyes. “Impossible.”

  “Highly unlikely, true. But sheesh—give the guy a chance.”

  “Maybe I would if he’d tell me what happened.”

  “It had to be a misunderstanding or something. Maybe it had nothing to do with Beckett at all. Seriously, I can’t see him doing anything inappropriate, not anymore. He’s a changed man, I’m telling you.”

  All because of God, she supposed. Madison didn’t get that. Her parents got it. Michael had gotten it. Cassidy—and now, apparently, even Beckett—had gotten it. What was she missing?

  Nothing. Nothing at all. She was a good person, wasn’t she? She volunteered at the nursing home, treated strays for free, helped her neighbors. What did she need faith for when she had herself and her family to count on?

  She stifled a yawn, feeling the dregs of too many sleepless nights. What she wouldn’t give for a nice long nap.

  “You look tired.”

  “I need to go to bed earlier, I think.”

  “Good luck with that. Well, listen, I’m meeting Stewie for supper. Wanna join us? He could call Dr. Fabulous and invite him too. Unless you want to change your mind about Beckett.”

  Dr. Landon was the newest addition to Riverview General’s staff. According to Cassidy’s boyfriend, he was interested in meeting Madison.

  “I really need to take Lulu for a run, then I’ve got a date with a puppy and a dozen geriatrics.”

  Cassidy popped off the desk. “Oh, the exciting life you lead.”

  “You’re just jealous. Tell Stewie hey.”

  “I will. See you in the morning.”

  After she left, Madison double-checked the lock on the front and went out the back exit.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MADISON WAS SITTING CHEST-DEEP IN THE CREEK BY THE time Beckett arrived.

  “Look at you,” he said.

  “Hey.” She focused on the still surface of the water.

  Lulu ran to him, her black tail waving, and he gave her a friendly pet. The border collie returned to her side, sitting on the grassy shore as Beckett removed his outer clothing.

  Madison had been to the creek twice this week, determined to get through this as quickly as possible. She could actually sit in the water now without freaking out. She’d even gotten her hair wet. She had no doubt Beckett had worse torture in store for today.

  He waded out to the middle and dipped beneath the surface, his muscular torso glistening like a bronze statue of Poseidon as he emerged.

  “Ready to come out a little farther?”

  “How much farther?”

  He tweaked an eyebrow. “Past the shoreline?”

  Her heart picked up tempo at the thought. Lulu lay down and heaved a sigh.

  “Maybe.”

  She imagined herself doing it. Standing up, walking confidently down the slope while the water climbed up her legs, up her torso. Imagined wading out to him, feeling relaxed and calm.

  Yeah, right.

  Beckett stared at her, hands on his hips, cocked head.

  Might as well get it over with. She stood and slowly began the journey she’d imagined, minus the confidence, relaxation, and calm. Conscious of his gaze, she pulled the wet T-shirt from her stomach. It gave a sucking sound as it released.

  “Doing great.”

  The water was to her thighs now, thick and tugging.

  “There’s a slight drop-off coming.” He stepped forward, reached out.

  She took his hand, latching onto his strong grip, her feet feeling their way to the drop-off. There. She felt around with her toes, stepped down several inches. The water was almost to her waist now.

  She focused on the surface, rippling and glimmering under their movements. She breathed in, blew it out on a shaky breath. You can do this, Madison. You are doing this.

  “Thatta girl.” He still had her hand, and she wasn’t complaining.

  He stepped backward, guiding her into deeper water. The liquid encased her stomach.

  “Isn’t this far enough?” She hated the thin, reedy sound of her voice. The water was only waist-deep on him, lucky dog. What she’d give to be six inches taller.

  “You’ve successfully reached the deepest part. Congrats.”

  “So it doesn’t get any worse?”

  “It doesn’t get any deeper.”

  “Right.” Worse would be going under.

  “Have a good week?” His tone was low and soothing. Trying to distract her again.

  “I guess. Kind of busy.” The water stilled around them, going flat and glossy. She looked down and could barely see his feet on the sandy bottom.

  “What made you become a vet?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve always loved animals. My dad complained I brought home every stray in the county. I had a whole menagerie.”

  “It’s a long time to go to school—eight years?”

  She nodded. “I took classes during high school though—started college as a sophomore.”

  “Overachiever.”

  Their hands were still linked under the water. She became aware of his palm against hers, his thick fingers around hers. She loosened her fingers and he let go.

  She could do this. The more she pushed herself, the sooner she’d get over this awful fear. The sooner she could learn to sail.

  “Where’d you get your dog?”

  She glanced toward the shore where the collie basked in the sunshine. “Lulu? I found her on the street when I was in grad school.”

  “University of Cincinnati.”

  It wasn’t a small town for nothing. “She was limping, had an infected eye. She was my first real patient. I couldn’t find her owner, so I kept her in my dorm.”

  His brows disappeared beneath his wet bangs. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “I am capable of breaking a rule now and then—for a good cause. Unlike some people who break them arbitrarily.”

  “People change.”

  She remembered what Cassidy said about Beckett attending church and whatnot.

  She flashed him a look. “Maybe.” Though it was rare in her experience. She moved her hands through the water, trying to acclimate to the way they glided, thick and sluggish.

  “Bend your knees, sink down a little ways.” He did it as he spoke until his chin rested on the water. He was probably in a full squat to manage that.

  She bent her knees, and the water climbed over her breasts, her collarbone. When it reached her neck, she stopped. She closed her eyes, caught her breath. She could swear her heart was beating hard enough to cause a tidal wave.

  She hated the anxiety that wormed through her, tweaking her nerves. She wanted to stand up, return to dry ground, but he was going to make her do more.

  “Doing great, Madison. Good job.”

  Next he was going to pat her on the head. “I’m not a dog.”

  “The water is your friend.” She heard the smile in his voice and shoved her hand out, pushing a spray of water at his face.

  The force of it pushed her backward, and she was falling. She clutched at air, at water, and found no hold.

  He reached for her. She grabbed onto him, steadying herself.

  Her heart beat against her ribs mercilessly. She opened her mouth to take in oxygen and glared at him.

  Water dripped from his nose, his chin. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, darlin’.”

  The endearment, d
elivered in a velvety smooth voice, did something pleasant inside her. Probably the voice he’d used on Jade just before he did whatever he did to her.

  She shrugged from his hold. “I’m not your darlin’.”

  “More’s the pity. You ready to go under?”

  Before she could digest the first thought, the second one parted her lips. “What?”

  “You’ve already done it once.” He was looking at her damp hair hanging in ropey strings over her shoulders.

  “I just dipped my head back.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It most definitely is not!”

  “We’ll take it slow.”

  “That’s what you said last week.” And here they were in the middle of the creek about to go under the murky water. She looked down. Maybe she could see their feet, but it was definitely murky.

  “If you’re afraid, you don’t have to.”

  Why didn’t he just triple-dog dare her? She clamped her teeth together to hide the fact that they were clattering like a set of teacups in a moving van.

  “I’m right here. Just take a deep breath, and dip your face in the water. You can hold my hands if you want.” He reached out.

  She started to push them away, remembered her last sudden movement, and changed her mind.

  Ignoring his hands, she eyed the water, unclenched her teeth. “Straight down or forward?” Her words quivered.

  “Any way you like.”

  She wasn’t going to like it either way. You can do it, Madison. Just a quick dip. Like you’re in the tub. The water is clean, refreshing. If she thought it enough, maybe it would feel true.

  She stared at the water a moment. It wasn’t going to hurt her. She was perfectly safe. Finally she took a long, slow breath, held her nose, and dipped down until her head was submerged. Water pressed against her face, filled her ears, made loud gurgling sounds. She popped to the surface, letting out her breath, drawing in a lungful of oxygen.

  She wiped her face with trembling hands and met his eyes, glaring. “Happy?”

  His lips turned up in a rare grin. He looked proud or something. She tried not to let that look soothe her frayed nerves. She’d rather be angry.

  “Perfect. Let’s try it again,” he said.