by Dana Taylor
"Sounds marvelous."
She hung up and threw herself into a fit of housecleaning. As she scrubbed the toilets, changed the sheets, ran the dust cloth, she fought thoughts of Phil. A boulder-sized lump lodged in her throat. Each time she passed the telephone, she had to stop herself from picking it up and blurting out she loved him, wanted him, needed him.
During the next two days, Maddie kept as busy as possible, working until fatigue forced her to collapse for catnaps on the couch. She'd lay with her hands on her rising stomach and feel the strong thumps of the baby. Fascinated by her changing body, she pulled back her shirt and exposed her naked tummy to watch the ripple of her stomach as the child tumbled inside its fluid sack. She longed to share the moments with Phil, but had to settle for a curious Lucifer, who nudged her hand for attention.
"You want to go for a walk, don't you? Fine."
Maddie hauled her body off of the cozy sofa, pulled on a jacket and scarf and joined her canine buddy for a stroll down to the lake. It was late afternoon on Wednesday. The cold breeze slapped her face as the crunch of crisp leaves accented each footstep. Water sloshed in white-capped peaks, whipped up by the turbulent wind. High in the sky the distant moon perched like a ghost hovering over the landscape.
She saw it up there, but refused to stand and yell at a traveling rock in the sky. She wouldn't blame the moon, her hormones or caffeine for her predicament. Somehow, she'd passed that. Much as her heart felt bruised, it wasn't crushed. The love she felt for Phil and the baby grounded her, freed her. Even though Phil might never know how much she cared for him, she wasn't going crazy. Madeleine Woodbridge Harris was no longer wounded and wound-up. No longer a nervous and edgy fussbudget. The fear of letting people into her heart had melted away. Phil had forced her to open up and love again. Probably love for the first time. He'd charged into her life and torn down her defenses.
What had he called her? A prickly, punctual, pain-in-the-ass. Nowadays she felt softer, gentler, wiser. He'd accused her of being afraid of being a woman and he'd been right. Standing by the cold water's edge feeling her heavy breasts and expanding womb, the wonder of being a woman struck her as a great gift from God. Phil had been a gift also, even if she couldn't keep him.
He'd been a gift from that ol’ Devil Moon.
* * *
Maddie heard a car drive up and turned around to see her parents, Amanda and Beau, opening their doors. Lucifer took off to greet the visitors as Maddie brought up the rear.
Beau held his arms wide. "Maddie, honey!" He engulfed her in a bear hug and she tried to keep her bulging belly from bumping into him.
"Hello, Daddy."
Her mother spoke up. "For heaven's sakes, let's get out of this wind and say our hellos in the house." She screamed when Lucifer jumped up on her and quickly pushed him down. "Good grief! Quickly, Beau, get Maddie indoors before she has a fit over this creature."
"Sit, Lucifer," Maddie commanded, prompting him to plant his black butt in the grass.
Beau scratched his head. "I don't believe it. Girl, you've changed."
Maddie linked arms with her daddy. "Oh, I think you're in for a few more surprises."
She helped them with their luggage and led them into the house.
Beau and Amanda were helping themselves to drinks in the kitchen when Maddie joined them after a bathroom run. Somehow, Amanda's hair remained perfectly coifed, despite the Arkansas wind. And Beau still had that country-boy-made-good look about him—an open, handsome face in expensive clothes. Maggie saw no point in putting off the inevitable.
Standing nervously before her parents, Maddie fiddled with the hem of her peach and turquoise maternity sweater. "I have some big news and there's no good way to ease into it. I didn't want to tell you over the phone. I'm going to have a baby." She swiveled sideways and pulled her sweater tight over her bulge. "Surprise, you're going to be grandparents."
It took a moment for Beau and Amanda to register the "surprise." Maddie wished she'd thought to buy a video camera to capture the play of emotions that went across their faces. Curiosity, recognition and shock flickered in a priceless display.
Amanda grabbed Beau's arm for support. "Oh…my…God."
"Good gravy, Maddie-girl, you've struck your mother speechless." He glanced down at the soda in his hand. "To hell with this sissy drink. Have you got any whiskey stored around here?"
Maddie opened the cabinet where she'd stashed the high dollar booze she'd laid in for her dad. "Yes, here, Daddy, I thought you might need this."
Amanda found her voice. "All right, Madeleine, there's obviously been a lot going on in your life that you've failed to mention in our weekly phone calls. Beau, pour a dash of that liquid in my glass and let's sit at the table and all have a little chat, shall we?"
Beau shook his head as he pulled out a chair at the dining table. "Damn, no wonder your Grammy has been hounding me. Now who's the fella that I need to get marching before my shotgun to the preacher?"
"Oh, Daddy, it's a complicated situation." Maddie sank into a chair. "Besides, my annulment from Randy isn't entirely finalized yet. You wouldn't want me to be a bigamist, would you?"
Beau slapped the table. "You married Randy? Now why in blazes would you do that?"
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." She straightened the dried rose centerpiece. "Listen, maybe I should start at the beginning. You see, one evening last summer…"
After hearing the convoluted details of Maddie's love life, Beau paced the small space of the kitchen. "I think you're making a big mistake not letting this fella know about the threat from his ex-wife."
Maddie sighed. "I don't want to be responsible for Phil losing Melissa when he's just established a decent relationship with her. You don't know Pam. She'd carry out her threat and disappear. I wouldn't put anything past her."
Amanda perched on her chair like a queen. "Well, she sounds like someone who should be conquered, not catered to."
A familiar raspy voice echoed from the corner. "For God's sake, show some backbone!"
Everyone started as they recognized Grammy's voice. Amanda put her hands over her ears. "This is too ridiculous. Now you have me hearing ghosts."
Taking Grammy's appearance in stride, Maddie continued, "You see, Phil has worked so hard to gain Melissa's trust. I don't want to be a wedge between them."
Beau placed a large hand on Maddie's shoulder. "You've got a good heart, daughter. The fact that you're putting this girl and her father before your own desires shows a lot of character."
Grammy grumbled, "I think it shows she's a ninny. Harris women should fight for their menfolk. I'd have scratched the eyes out of any floozy in Beaver County who'd tried to get her hands on your pa."
Beau shook his head. "Well, that's another approach. Whatever you decide to do about this situation, I want you to know your mother and I will support you one hundred percent."
"That's right, dear," Amanda agreed. "Now that I've had a moment to let your news sink in, I'm very excited about it. Beau, we're going to have a grandchild!"
Beau chuckled. "That's right. How will it feel to have someone call you 'Grandma?'"
Amanda looked suddenly stricken. "Oh, dear. That will never do." Then she smiled. "But, I won't mind being 'Nana.'"
Maddie's heart swelled as she fully appreciated the love she enjoyed from her parents. She gave them each a kiss on the cheek. "You're being a lot more understanding than I expected about all this. Daddy, I was afraid you'd insist on the shotgun wedding."
Beau shrugged. "You know your Daddy pretty well. But, I can see you're a big girl now, capable of making your own decisions. I just hope for the sake of you and my grandchild that you're making the right one."
* * *
A winter storm blew in from the West carrying ice and snow. Sleet rained down in slivered particles, clinging to any solid object. Hour after hour it tumbled down, forming long icicles on tree branches and power lines. As the night wore on, those lines sagged under the w
eight of the ice until they snapped. Pop! The lights went out all over western Arkansas.
Maddie huddled under her blankets, half-asleep. Lucifer had burrowed under the covers, keeping Maddie's backside warm. She'd been in a crazy dream world filled with monster Pams when the phone rang. Her hand fumbled over her nightstand as she found the phone.
"Hello?" Her voice came out in a froggy rasp.
Randy sounded much too cheerful for the early morning. "Rise and shine, my pet. Uncle Randy has figured out how to save the day."
"What are you talking about?" She struggled to sit up.
"The electricity is down, Sleeping Beauty. There's no way to cook that twenty pound bird you bought."
Maddie groaned. "Oh no…"
"So, we'll go to Plan B, which is to join forces with the community dinner planned at the school. They have the emergency generators working. I've been on the phone with Miss Green and Mr. Manchester, who are organizing the whole affair." His tone turned gossipy. "You know, I think they have something going on between them. Anyway, pack up all your food. I'm sending Brent over to pick it up and we're heading into town to help with the cooking. You and your parents can come down this afternoon to share the meal and then help dish it out. It will put everyone in the holiday spirit."
After hanging up, Maddie crashed back into her pillows. Wonderful, simply wonderful. Her mother would probably go into culture shock—going from Thanksgiving in an elegant Boston dining room to an Arkansas high school cafeteria. Not only that, Amanda Woodbridge Harris would be expected to take her place on the serving line! Maddie began laughing. And laughing. The sight of her elegant mother plopping mashed potatoes onto cafeteria trays for the population of Beaver Cove was something she had to see.
* * *
Phil managed to slide and fishtail the truck to Pam's house in the early afternoon. He'd had the good sense to get back to his apartment yesterday before the storm hit or he might be freezing his butt in a hunter's shack. It appeared that Bambi and his mother were safe another year from the deadeye aim of Phil Wilcox. A beautiful buck had been in his sights, but he let the animal pass on by. He'd gotten away more to think than to shoot.
He still felt shrouded in a dark veil, but he decided to get on with his life, such as it was. His obsession with Maddie had to end. The emotional highs and lows couldn’t continue. Nor was he willing to be her studmuffin—-someone to satisfy her sexual urges when the mood struck her. He wouldn't be her whore. Better to treat her with the detachment he'd been able to muster for Pam. If it weren't for the baby, he'd have nothing more to do with snotty Bostonian pill. Phil shoved the truck in park and took a few more sips of coffee.
Melissa peeked out the curtains of the front window and saw her dad pull up. The aftermath of the ice storm was totally awesome. Sparkling ice crystals glinted in the sun on every tree limb. She would love to go running in the woods and check out all the storm damage, instead of being dragged to the community Thanksgiving dinner. That was okay, though, because she needed to talk to her dad. Questions rolled around in her mind that only he could answer.
Melissa turned around and yelled down the hall to Pam. "He's here, Mom! I'm going out to wait with him in the truck where it's warm."
"Okay. I'll be ready in a few minutes." Pam's voice pierced through the house.
Melissa pulled on her coat and scooted out the door, waving at her dad as she crunched over the frosty lawn.
She yanked open the passenger door. "Hey, Daddy, don't get out. Mom's almost ready. You'll freeze your buns off in the house."
Phil smiled, but Melissa noticed that he had that sad look in his eyes again. He gave her a quick hug. "So, how have you been, kid?"
"Okay." She settled against the brown vinyl seat. "Did you know that rats can't vomit?"
"No kidding? I've been wondering about that."
Melissa knew she only had a few minutes until Pam entered the truck and stunk it up with her crappy perfume. "Hey, Dad, you and Mom aren't ever going to get back together again, are you?"
Phil ran his hand over his face. "No, baby, I'd do a lot of things for you, but living with your mom again is not one of them. We didn't make a good team."
Yeah, she'd figured that out already. Her mom could be so whacko. Like the crap she'd said to Miss Harris in the bathroom at the game. Melissa had seen her mom follow the assistant principal. She'd climbed the outside wall like a regular Spiderman to hear what went on inside.
"So, is Miss Harris having a baby and are you the father?"
"Oh, hell," Phil muttered. "Yes. Where did you hear about it? I should have been the one to tell you."
"It's no big deal." Melissa waved her icy fingers before the warm blowing air of the heater. "It's better than Marilee Sampson's dad who ran off with a holy-roller snake charmer. So, I guess you really like Miss Harris, huh? Are you going to marry her?"
"No!" The way he barked the word made Melissa jump.
"Have you asked her?"
"That's none of your business."
"So you have asked her and she turned you down, huh?"
Phil shot her a slit-eyed glance. "You're too smart for your own damn good."
Melissa knew better than to tell him what she'd overheard at the ball game. He'd fly into Pam, who would totally freak out. And Melissa would be stuck with a whacked-out mom for the rest of her vacation. No, there had to be a better way.
* * *
Spirits ran high in the Beaver Cove High School cafeteria. Everyone agreed that an ice storm was a beautiful natural disaster. Thankfully, generators ran efficiently, food was plentiful, and a party atmosphere filled the room. Long tables decorated with turkey-and-pumpkin holiday paper created a cheerful ambiance. Miss Phyllis Green had whipped up centerpieces from materials gathered in the woods–pinecones, red berries, sweet gum balls, and such. Miss Green and Phineas Manchester manned the dessert table. She wiped a stray crumb from his cheek, as she batted her cow-eyes at him. He appeared to enjoy the attention very much.
The Finn family occupied a good part of one table. George and Vince kept sneaking the peas and sweet potatoes they hated on Faith's plate until she screeched at them. A subdued Ginger sat feeding baby Garth his supper. Ginger still struggled with all the changes in her life. Part of her missed Wade so bad. When she'd seen him in the hospital all busted up, she'd burst into tears. Later, after hassles with the police and hearing about all the crap Wade had done, she'd flown into a regular hissy fit. She smashed his damn fish tank and would have taken a baseball bat to his precious racecar if Reba hadn't stopped her. And thank God for that. Money from the car sale would keep food on the table a while.
Wade had shamed her and the kids. She wouldn't have ventured in public if she'd had any choice in the matter. Damned ice storm bringing down the electricity. She'd had no choice but to bring the youngins in town for supper. Her lowered gaze traveled the room, expecting people to be muttering about that trashy Finn family. Instead, a couple people she knew offered a friendly wave.
A former high school girlfriend sought her out. "Hey, Ginger! Good to see you."
"Hey, Becky." She'd always liked Becky Malone, with her round, open face. Wade used to make cracks about Becky’s "lard butt" and always hustled Ginger away at ball games and stuff. Ginger sat up a little straighter as she realized Wade wasn't around to hassle her about talking to old friends. No, Wade wouldn't be around for a very long time. Ginger managed a small smile. "I like that sweatshirt you've got on."
Becky pulled out the home-decorated holiday shirt from her ample bosom. It sported a turkey getting shot by Indians, all outlined in glitter. "Made it myself. You should come over to my house on Tuesday night. There's a bunch of us that's getting together to make Christmas shirts. We sit around drinkin' margaritas pasting sequins on Santa's belly. It's a blast. Promise me you'll come."
Ginger handed Garth a cookie. "That sounds pretty fun. Maybe I'll be there. Just maybe I will."
At that moment the piano struck up a chord and all ey
es moved to the corner where Reba and Randy began a duet of patriotic tunes. Pretty soon the whole room joined in singing God Bless America, My County 'Tis of Thee, and America the Beautiful.
Maddie and her folks finished eating their food and took places behind the serving line. Brent had everyone well organized: Beau carved the turkey, Mother Bailey dished out green beans, Maddie served yams, and Amanda plopped mashed potatoes and gravy. (Maddie had put Brent up to that.) Maddie and Beau exchanged amused glances as they watched the cultured Bostonian matron attending her task with grim determination.
Maddie was having a good time. She'd decided to rise above her personal heartache over Phil and enjoy her friends and family. No sense in being a simp. Besides, she'd half convinced herself that she'd be able to find some happy middle ground with Phil. Hopefully, they'd be able to resume their teasing friendship. She couldn't bear the thought of losing his bulldozing personality from her life.
The afternoon crowd became so busy; she barely had time to look up from her spoon. Whenever her dish emptied, she dashed back to the kitchen for a full one. She exchanged quick quips with each diner as they passed by. She didn't realize Phil, Melissa, and Pam were next in line until she had dished golden yams on his plate.
Automatically, she smiled and said "Happy Thanksgiving" as she looked up. Her smile drooped. "Phil…"
With an expression set in stone, he said, "Madeleine," as if he were speaking to a passing acquaintance. A passing acquaintance he had never much cared for.
Her spoon dropped, clanging to the floor as the power of his cool reply hit her. He'd called her "Madeleine." He'd vowed to never call her by that stiff, formal nomenclature.
She knew in that moment that their relationship was irreparably damaged. There would be no teasing banter, no casual resumption of a meaningful friendship. She was being cut off at the knees.
She grabbed a clean spoon and forced herself to mechanically fill Melissa and Pam's plates. For one second she nearly flung yams and marshmallows in Pam's smug face.
Her gaze followed Phil's wide back. He drifted away from her, as surely as Tom Hanks lost his ball buddy in Castaway. Maddie wanted to yell at Phil as desperately as Tom had cried, "I'm sorry, Wilson!" Phil was bobbing away from her in a sea of Beaver Cove's humanity.