Barefoot Summer

by Denise Hunter

  After a third unanswered knock she walked around back. Maybe he was working on the boat. But when she reached the backyard she saw that the outbuilding was closed up tight.

  She strolled back to her car, a hollow spot opening up inside, spreading quickly. Where could he be? If he’d gone for a walk, he’d have taken Rigsby.

  Think, Madison. Was it Wednesday, his Bible study night? She’d had trouble keeping track of days since she’d been off work. But no, it was Tuesday. Where would he be?

  She remembered something he’d said once and increased her pace. She hopped in her car, drove two blocks, and pulled into a diagonal slot. The park was empty, the swings swaying in the warm breeze. She headed past the slide, past the basketball court, and toward the wooded hillside.

  It was where he liked to go when he needed to think or pray, up on the rock tower where he had a God’s-eye view of the valley. She strode across the plush lawn, feeling the grass tickle the tops of her feet through her sandals.

  She was going to do this no matter how hard it might be. No matter how much the truth—whatever it was—might hurt. Maybe she was afraid, but she was going to feel the fear and do it anyway.

  Give me courage, God.

  At the base of the hill, she kicked off her sandals and started up the path. The dirt was hard under her feet. Sticks poked at her soles and stones scraped the tender flesh. She still didn’t like the way it felt, that hadn’t changed. Life was full of discomfort and hurt. But pain wasn’t fatal.

  Her calf muscles ached at the steep parts. The darkness of the woods closed in around her. Her breaths grew shallow as she ascended, her mouth drying. Still she climbed.

  When she neared the top, she spotted the tower of rock through the woods and climbed toward it. She stopped at the base, catching her breath, pulling in the scent of pine and earth. A bird gave a warbled call, and another tweeted in response.

  She faced the tower, remembering the daunting climb. She opened her mouth, Beckett’s name on her tongue, then closed it again. He was up there. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him, but she knew he was there. She felt it clear down to her bare toes. She wanted to see his face when he heard her voice. Maybe it would tell her all she needed to know.

  She began the climb, taking the first difficult steps. It was harder without Beckett’s help, but she’d manage. Halfway up, she stretched for a hold and pulled herself up, her bare toes curling on a shallow ledge.

  A breeze came and ruffled her hair, rewarding her effort, but by the time she neared the top, sweat beaded on the back of her neck. She eased herself up over the top, catching the most glorious sight.

  Beckett, stretched out on the flat rock, arms folded under his head, eyes closed, Bible propped open on his stomach. The wires of earbuds dangled from his ears to his jeans pocket. She took a moment just to appreciate the view.

  His lips were moving, and she wondered if he was praying or mouthing the words of a song. He sported a couple days’ stubble, and his lashes, so dark, fanned his upper cheeks. She’d missed that face, those lips.

  As if sensing her, his eyes opened and settled on her. There was something more than surprise in the look. Or was that only wishful thinking?

  He sprang upright, pulling out the earbuds, catching his Bible as it fell. “Madison.”

  She shifted under his direct gaze. Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath. “Hi. I was, uh, in the neighborhood.”

  Maybe she shouldn’t have come, invaded his private time. Too late now.

  He stared back, his expression an unsolved puzzle. “Have a seat.”

  She lowered herself to the flat rock, stretching out her legs.

  “Where are your shoes?”

  “Long story.”

  Her pulse raced, and her heart fought a losing battle with her ribs. Now that she was here, what did she say? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She pulled in her knees and clasped her arms around them. The sun had disappeared behind wispy clouds, turning the evening sky pink.

  “Why are you here, Madison?”

  Maybe she should pretend she didn’t know he’d be here. That she’d just wanted to get away and remembered his hiding spot. But that wasn’t true.

  She gathered her courage around her like a cape. “Beckett . . . I need to know what happened. Between us.” She looked him in the eye despite the heat rising to her cheeks.

  Something flickered in his eyes. He looked away, then stood, took a few steps. But the rock ledge wouldn’t let him go far. His shoulders rose and fell on a sigh. He cradled the back of his neck, his elbows jutting toward the sunset.

  “You can tell me the truth. I’m not going to fall apart—well, I might, but not here.”

  He turned. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but he’d always been so hard to read.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  Her heart shrank four sizes. She gave a tremulous smile. “Too late.”

  He flinched, and she immediately regretted the words.

  “Look, I guess I just wanted to tell you something, so I’m going to say it, and if that’s it, then it just is. I’ll—I’ll get over it, okay? I just . . . I just need you to know that somewhere along the way, somewhere between the swimming lessons and the sailing and the really great kisses . . .” A lump formed in her throat, choking off the last words, and a burning started behind the bridge of her nose.

  “Madison.” Her name sounded etched in rock.

  “I know I’ve been kind of a mess. All right, a real mess. But I’m working on that, and I just need you to be patient with me, Beckett, because I—”

  “Madison, don’t.”

  “Why? Why shouldn’t you hear the truth?”

  “There’s no future here. How can you not see that?”

  She pressed against the ache, but it was futile. “You don’t love me.”

  He looked away, blew out a long breath. A shadow moved across his jaw. She could almost see the waves of tension rolling off him.

  “Look,” he said. “I’m not the one for you. You need to move on, maybe start going out with Drew again or—”

  “Drew!”

  “He’s a nice guy, Madison, you should give him a—”

  “You’re pawning me off on Drew?”

  His silence pretty much said it all.

  She shot to her feet, her eyes stinging. “I don’t love Drew. I love you, you idiot.”

  His eyes softened. Pity?

  She hadn’t thought she could feel worse, but guess what? “I thought you might love me too, but I guess I was wrong.” So wrong. She turned to go, her vision clouded with tears.

  “Wait, Madison.”

  “I got it, Beckett. Loud and clear.” She took the first step down and slipped on the rocky slope. She caught herself, scraping her palm in the process.

  “You’re going to kill yourself.” He leaped down, grasped her arm, turned her until she was eye-to-eye with him.

  A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. She dashed it away, but another took its place. She tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t let go, took her other arm too.

  There was something in his eyes. Not pity, not indifference. “What am I going to do with you?” he said softly. He let out a breath. He looked skyward as if some answer might appear in the clouds.

  “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand you. What do you want from me?” Her throat closed, choking off her last words, and more tears followed.

  “Stop it. Just stop it.” He pulled her into his arms.

  Before she lost her will, she pushed at his chest. “No.”

  He held her arms, preventing her escape.

  “You can’t push me away and pull me toward you. You don’t love me. I get it, now just let me go.”

  He tightened his grip. “I do.” His eyes were fervent, his tone compelling. “I do love you.”

  She stopped her struggle, blinked to clear her vision. Were her ears playing cruel tricks on her?

  H
is grip eased, his thumbs moved in a slow caress. “Look, honey. You’re not the one who’s messed up, all right? You’re great. You’ve got a terrific family, had a solid upbringing. You’re a wonderful woman, you’ll make a great wife someday, a great mom, just like yours. What have I got? A mom who walked out, a dad who checked out . . . abandonment, divorce, and alcoholism—those are the tools I’m working with.”

  Madison frowned. “You’re nothing like your dad.”

  “Genetics go deep, Madison, and I’m not willing to risk your future on the hopes that—”

  “Risk my future? You don’t get to make that decision, Beckett. That’s my call.”

  “I’m trying to do what’s best for you. That’s what real love is.”

  “Real love is a choice. I choose to love you, despite who your parents are or what they did. I choose to believe that there’s always hope, that with God all things are possible. Maybe you didn’t have the best earthly father, but you have a heavenly Father, Beckett, and there’s nothing He can’t overcome. I’m only beginning to see that for myself.”

  He stared back, seemed to consider her words. “I’m a big risk . . .” He meant it as a warning. But something in his tone made the anger drain away.

  Her lips lifted. “I’ll take my chances.”

  She saw the struggle in his face, and her heart broke for him. For where he’d come from and what he’d been through. There were still old wounds, she saw that now. But somehow, in spite of it all, he’d become a courageous and godly man. It was nothing short of a miracle.

  This was the man for her. She felt it way down deep inside where new seeds were being sown every day. “We both have things to overcome. But God’s going to do big things with you, Beckett. He already has. And I want to be there, right by your side, watching.”

  “You don’t know how badly I want that.” His voice grated across his throat.

  But she did. She saw it in his eyes, clear as the summer sky. “Then take it. It’s yours for the taking.”

  A moment caught, suspended in time, stretching out until it was taut with tension.

  Finally he framed her face, swept away the dampness with his thumb. “I love you, Maddy. Is that enough?”

  “More than,” she whispered.

  He leaned in and brushed her lips, the tenderness of it making her ache. The good kind of ache that spread all through her, making her legs go weak with wanting. He pulled her closer, deepened the kiss, and she savored the taste of him. She touched his face, her fingertips tingling under the roughness of his jaw. She could get used to this.

  When he broke the kiss, it was only so he could hold her. He tightened his arms around her, and she breathed in the scent of him. His body was warm and solid against hers, his heartbeat strong. It felt familiar and right and perfect, like starlit nights and barefoot summers.

  Home. That’s what it was. It felt like home.

  EPILOGUE

  THE SUN HAD DROPPED BEHIND THE OAK TREES, CASTING long shadows over the McKinleys’ basketball court. Madison watched PJ put up a critical shot from three-point range. It swished through the basket, dropped down, and patted the concrete.

  Beckett snatched up the ball, scowling playfully as Daniel and Ryan messed with him. With an H-O-R-S, missing this shot would make Beckett the second loser. Madison was already eating crow on the sidelines.

  She clapped. “Come on, honey, you can do it.”

  Beckett took position, bent his knees, dribbled three times, and put up the shot. It sailed through the air in a beautiful arc, hit the rim, and bounced off, falling to the ground.

  PJ strutted the width of the court, her ponytail swishing. “Oh yeah. Two down, two to go.”

  “You haven’t won yet, hot dog.”

  “Just a matter of time, big brother.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “How many letters is that for you again?”

  “Shut up and miss a shot already.”

  Beckett joined Madison at the picnic table. “You could’ve warned me about her.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t do me any good.”

  Behind him, pandemonium broke out as Daniel sank a shot from PJ’s weak spot. Ryan laughed, and PJ bounced the ball against the back of his head.

  “Hey!”

  “Holy cow,” Beckett said, turning to Madison. “You all must’ve been a handful growing up.”

  “What, us? Five little angels.”

  Beckett shot her a look as he took her hands and pulled her up. “Go for a walk?”

  “Ready to leave the madness behind?”

  “For a few minutes.”

  “We’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Take your time,” her mom called from beside her dad on the porch stoop.

  PJ let out a catcall, and Daniel’s piercing whistle cut through the air.

  Ryan chucked the basketball at his friend, and Daniel grunted when it caught him in the stomach. “Dude!”

  Madison and Beckett headed down the drive, leaving the chaos behind. A few minutes later the only sounds were the gravel crunching under their shoes and the chattering of two squirrels playing chase on a thick oak. October had arrived, waving its magic wand over the trees, dusting them with gold and orange and red.

  Madison inhaled the fragrance of early autumn: loamy earth, pine, a neighbor’s wood fire. As much as she liked summer, she loved autumn the best. Roasted marshmallows, sweaters, and harvest. Colorful, cool, and fleeting. She was enjoying life these days. Enjoying work, and family, and yes, Beckett.

  Something new and good had settled over her family since the secret surrounding Michael’s death had come out. The news had shaken them all initially, but the results were well worth the fretting. The testing had revealed that none of them had the metabolic disorder. Their chances had been one in four, and of the five of them Michael had been the only one to inherit it.

  “Heard from Dad today,” Beckett said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Oh? How’s he doing?”

  “I was encouraged. He sounded different. Focused, more positive. He mentioned some changes he wanted to make when he came back, talked about opening a barbecue place someday.”

  “That’s great.” Mr. O’Reilly was in a ninety-day treatment facility. They hoped the longer stay would increase his chances of long-term sobriety. “You did the right thing in sending him there.”

  “I don’t even remember him before he was an alcoholic. It’s kind of like getting to know a new person. I’m hopeful for him.”

  “Speaking of dads, I saw you chatting with mine earlier.” She nudged his shoulder. “I think he might be coming around.”

  Their hands swung between them. “Protective of his baby girl—can’t blame him for that.”

  She’d noticed a lowering of her dad’s guard each time she’d brought Beckett around. He’d initiated polite conversation with Beckett when they’d arrived tonight. She had a feeling her mom had been instrumental in softening him up.

  “I know our families are different,” Beckett said, “but I’m coming to peace with all that. My upbringing . . . I aim to do a lot better for my own family someday.”

  “I know you will. God used it to make you stronger. Maybe show you what you don’t want for your own future.”

  He squeezed her hand. “And what I do want.”

  They traded smiles. He wasn’t stingy with his affection. She loved that about him.

  “I wasn’t just chatting with your dad, you know.”

  “No?” She kicked a hickory nut, and it scuttled down the drive.

  “I was asking permission.”

  She took three more steps, then stopped in her tracks. Dried leaves shuffled past on a soft breeze. His eyes had that look, the one she’d fallen into during that dance so long ago. The one that captured her heart each time he drew her into his arms, into the safety of his embrace.

  “Permission?”

  He took her other hand, facing her. The golden hour had
arrived, softening the shadows on his face, making his eyes shimmer.

  “I was going to wait,” he said. “But I can’t. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  His chest rose and fell on a breath even as her own froze, holding the oxygen captive. “I want you to be my wife, baby. I want to come home to you every night and hear your laughter. I want to build a life together with all the things that matter. I want there to be family, and sailing, and church, and work, and kids . . .”

  Her lips trembled on a smile. “Five little angels?”

  He squeezed her hands. “I was thinking we’d start with one and work our way up. What about it, Maddy—will you marry me?”

  The world had narrowed down to the two of them. His words brushed the corners of her mind, the softest of caresses. His palms were damp against hers and there was tension in his arms, a question in his eyes.

  He had to know—didn’t he? How much she loved him, needed him? That she couldn’t imagine a future without him?

  The breath left her lungs, tumbled through the smile spreading on her face. “Oh yeah. You better believe I will.”

  He gathered her in his arms, crushing her against him. Close enough to feel his heart thumping against her sweater, close enough to smell his warm, spicy scent, close enough to hear the whisper in her ear.

  “I love you, Madison McKinley.”

  And it was enough. More than enough.

  Reading Group Guide

  1. Which character was your favorite and why?

  2. The Chapel Springs series is based on Jesus’ parable of the sower. Read Luke 8:5. How was Madison’s spiritual life like the seed that fell along the path?

  3. Who were some of the people who watered Madison’s spiritual seed to help her grow roots and flourish? Who are those people in your life?

  4. Madison was experiencing a lack of peace that had begun to affect many areas of her life. When she became desperate, she set out on a journey to fix it. What are some things people do when they’re looking for peace? What are some healthy alternatives? Have you ever struggled to find peace? How did you finally find it?