She shook her head. "I've never had a boyfriend, and I don't think I made any enemies over the past six years."
I was amazed. "You never had a boyfriend? Not even before..." I didn't like to keep pushing her conviction in her face.
"I was sort of focused on schoolwork," she said, pink coloring her cheeks. "Besides, the boys never really paid much attention to me. I was shy and quiet. They liked the girls who were more likely to hang out with them behind the bleachers, if you know what I mean."
I did. "I would have totally hung out with you behind the bleachers," I answered, grinning at the thought.
"Except you would have been with girls like Claire, not me." Her tone wasn't accusing but full of something else. Maybe regret?
Claire's name threw cold water on my feelings immediately. I'd hardly given Claire a thought all day except when Maddy mentioned her in the truck at my folk's house. I realized I was rubbing circles on the back of her hand that I still held. Guilt crept into my heart, and I withdrew my hand.
But it still didn't answer why some other guy didn't want her. "So why were you so driven in school that you didn't pay attention to the boys?"
Reaching for the throw pillow beside her, she cradled it to her chest and rested her chin on top. "My dad was the town drunk, Holt. People never saw Madelyn or Charlotte, my older sister. They always saw Madelyn and Charlotte, Jacob Stone's girls. We always lived under his shadow, at least when we were young. People never expected anything good out of my dad. He couldn't hold a job for longer than a few months, couldn't pay the bills, and couldn't get past his pride if anyone tried to help us. So while there were some people who felt sorry for us and would drop off food and clothes when he wasn't home, a lot of people transferred their opinion of him on to us."
"I can't imagine how hard it was to grow up like that." It was true. Sometimes growing up we'd been shown some tough love, but there was never any doubt my parents were always there for us, no matter what we did.
She shrugged. "You get used to it after awhile. Charly, that's what I call my sister, was able to find her own spotlight eventually." She raised her eyes to mine. "She could always be found behind the bleachers, with anyone. She was the fun, fast, and flirty one. She thrived on the attention she got from the boys. And so then, most people thought I'd follow in her tracks – as the next town slut."
I frowned at the presumption. "Obviously, you didn't. So what were you like?"
"Me? Someone had to be the responsible one since Dad wasn't home much and Charly just wanted to have fun. I was very organized, and since I wasn't outgoing like Charly, it was a role I naturally fell into."
"So your older sister played while you basically did all the work?" It didn't matter it was years ago; I was pissed that a child should have been put into that position.
"She was a young teenager. She deserved to have fun."
How could she defend their actions? "And you didn't? You were just a little girl!" She flinched at my voice. I stood up and refilled my glass, pacing restlessly through the room to tame my growing fury.
"You don't understand," she cried. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
I stopped my pacing in front of her. I knew it didn't help her anxiety towering over her, so I sat back on the couch, only this time right next to her. "You’re right, I don't. She was the big sister. She should have been home trying to help you. Why did she deserve to play while you worked? Huh, Maddy? Tell me that," he hissed.
"Because I'm the reason our mom died," she whispered.
Whatever reason she was going to give, that wasn’t one I was expecting. "What?"
"Our mom hemorrhaged to death after I was born. Charly lost her mom because of me." She buried her head in the pillow like she was ashamed.
She thought she owed her older sister because she blamed herself for her mother's death? That was one hell of a burden to place on oneself. The heart that I thought died five years ago was obviously alive and well judging from the pain that suddenly seared through it. Her life started out on such tragic footing, and it didn’t get much better.
Tugging the pillow away from her so she couldn't hide behind it, I leaned in close. "You're not to blame, Maddy. You don't owe anyone anything, especially for something you had no control over." Without the pillow in the way, I lifted her chin with my finger. To my surprise, there were no tears, just a resigned, almost stoic look on her face. "That's what you meant that night in your apartment about being born was a crime in your family, wasn't it?"
When she didn't deny it, I caved. "Oh, sweetheart." To hell with whatever limits friendship placed. I pulled her on my lap and kissed the top of her head. She sat stiff as a board; her spine held straight and her shoulders tense. Using both hands, I slowly massaged her shoulders, trying to rub the tension out. It must have worked because her shoulders slowly lowered. Taking advantage of it, I leaned back slightly against the arm of the couch, taking her with me. She exhaled deeply, and it was like all the fight drained out of her.
"School came easy to me,” she mumbled against my chest. “I thought maybe I could change everyone's mind about me if I could prove that I was different, that having the Stone genes didn't mean we were destined to be lazy, drunk, or slutty. I think I did for the most part, but there were some who were all too happy to remind me of where I came from.
“Mrs. M, well Mrs. Kissinger back then, was one of the first people to tell me I could be anything I wanted to be. That's when I decided I wanted to be a teacher like her. And I never veered from that goal. Eventually, I got a part-time job after school, but most of that money went to keep our power turned on. The only chance I had at going to college was to get a scholarship."
I remained quiet, letting her tell her story while I alternated between rubbing her back and playing with her hair that seemed to beg my fingers to comb through it.
"My high school counselor was helping me with applications my senior year when she called me out of class to her office. There was a man there, Paul Regis. She said he was a regional vice-president for one of the national lumber store chains, which happened to have a major warehouse nearby. He explained that because our town made up most of the employees, they wanted to give something back to the community and were creating a college scholarship based on academic excellence and financial need. They thought I was the perfect candidate."
I couldn’t stop from tensing when she mentioned Regis's name, but I held my tongue. I listened as she explained how Regis had not only interviewed her at school, but that he stopped by her house a couple of times with extra paperwork. He invited her out to dinner to celebrate getting the scholarship. She thought it seemed beyond what was appropriate, but Charly had come home and once wrangling her own invitation, convinced her they should accept. All of my senses were on high alert, waiting for her to tell me just how inappropriate he had gotten.
"Charly kept telling me how handsome she thought Paul was after our dinner. He seemed charmed by her. Most of the time I just sat and ate, while they talked and laughed. I knew something felt off, but I didn't want to jeopardize my ticket out of town. Besides, Charly was an adult, even if she didn't act like it most of the time.
"One day I came home from school. Paul's car was in front of our trailer. I thought it was strange since he knew I'd be at school. When I walked in the door, I heard what sounded like a muffled cry from Charly's bedroom. I rushed to her door and saw Paul was on top of her on the bed, one hand over her mouth and one hand trying to pull down her shorts. She was struggling, and I saw tears in her eyes. It looked like her arms were tied. Neither of them saw me, so I ran to the hutch in the living room where I knew my father used to keep a gun. I didn't know if it was still there, and I swear I thought it was unloaded."
I wrapped her tighter in my arms as she started to shake. I was sure I knew where this was headed.
"I went back to the bedroom and called out his name. He looked up and saw me. He laughed and said I had perfect timing, that now he could have
both sisters at one time."
Her shaking grew worse. She buried her head in my chest, muffling her words, but I caught them anyway. "He just laughed at me, Holt. He climbed off of Charly and told me if I wanted to keep my scholarship, I should take my clothes off and join her on the bed. So I pulled the gun from behind my back. He laughed harder. He said I wasn't dumb enough to pull the trigger and ruin my ticket out of town. He said I owed him. I cocked the gun. I remember my hands were shaking so hard, and the gun felt so heavy, but he didn't stop. I'm not even sure what happened next. I think he lunged for me, but somehow I pulled the trigger and then he was on the floor, blood pooling under him. I didn’t even know it was loaded."
Her voice had dropped off to just above a whisper, but her words were so intense they rang in my ears like cathedral bells at noon.
Dozens of thoughts raced through my head, each one worse than the previous one. She'd been sentenced for murder when she was only protecting someone else? That's not right. Maybe voluntary manslaughter. And that meant the 'witness' who didn't show up was her own sister!
I sat up, startling her with the suddenness of my movement and almost making her fall on the floor. I caught her and settled her while I stood up. I ran my hands across the sides of my face and clasped them behind my head.
I turned to face her. "What happened to Charly? Why didn't she show up for your trial?"
Shaking her head, she seemed to choke on her words. "She ran off before the police got there, and I haven't heard from her since. At least until..."
Worried eyes snapped to mine. "I got a letter from her on Friday. That's one reason I went out that night," she said. "I needed to clear my head, but with everything that happened afterward, I forgot about what she wrote. Hang on."
Hopping off the couch, she hurried to her bedroom and came back with two envelopes, one much larger than the other. Without a word she handed them to me, then curled up in the corner of the couch hugging her knees close and biting her lip.
Her name written in fancy script was the only thing on the outside of both envelopes. I started with the smaller one and skimmed it quickly. Anger roiled inside me. Damn straight she didn't deserve Maddy's forgiveness.
Taking care not to crumple it as I shoved it back into the envelope, I dropped it on the coffee table and opened the larger envelope. My breath caught when I got to the second paragraph. It seemed Charly was in some kind of trouble again. So why was she contacting Maddy? The skeptic in me doubted the sincerity of the apologies and excuses offered in both letters. Experience had taught me to go with my gut instincts, and I suspected Charly only had two possible reasons for making contact with her sister after all this time. One, she was genuinely sorry and was seeking absolution. Or two, and the more likely in my mind, she needed something, so she turned to the one person who had always been there for her.
I glanced at Maddy, who was staring back at me. She looked pale, making her beautiful eyes seem even larger on her face. I worried about the dark circles under her lashes, but for the first time I noticed something else - there was trust shining in her eyes.
Another chain around my heart broke. There was no way in hell I was going to let Charly or anyone else ever hurt her again. I hoped that whatever these new growing feelings between us were, they helped to release us from the prison of the past and didn't sentence either of us to more heartbreak. And the only way I could guarantee that was to fortify the guidelines to the new category I had created for Madelyn and her alone: friend.
24
Maddy
The week began as Holt had told me it would. He drove me to work, bid me goodbye as we got off the elevator, and drove me home at the end of the day. Despite his protests, I cooked dinner every night. I felt it was the least I could do for letting me stay. He thanked me for the meal, but every night he'd take his plate and disappear into his study and come out hours later when he knew I'd already gone to bed.
After he'd read my letters on Sunday night, he'd asked me some more questions about Paul and Charly. He looked dismayed when he realized the book and necklace I'd asked him about had such sentimental value. He vowed to go back in the daylight and search again.
But after he put the letters down, he didn't sit with me again, didn't hold my hand in support, nor offer any more comforting embraces. He was polite and friendly enough, but he seemed distracted. I finally bid him goodnight, and only then did he give me a hug and another forehead kiss, much like he'd given Carol and Sara when we'd left after Sunday dinner.
To say I felt confused was an understatement. Clearly he’d drawn some lines. Regardless, I didn't have any regrets about telling him everything. It was exhausting holding everything in, and finally confiding in him relieved a tremendous amount of stress. I trusted him. But I missed the affectionate side of him that vanished late Sunday night. I tried to analyze that what I felt for him was gratitude; that I was starved for any tender touch, and I misread his affection, even that I envied him of his family. But despite trying to rationalize my feelings, the truth was I cared about Holt. A lot. He'd never walked on tiptoes around me trying to spare my feelings. Rather, he'd stood up to me and forced me to see how jaded I'd become. Instead of turning me off, his honesty made me trust him.
The only exception to our routine came at the end of the week after a late evening at work. He came into the kitchen while I was stirring a wine-based gravy for the pork chops I was browning in another pan.
He turned off the burners and pulled me to the table that I'd already set. I'd put two place settings out, even though I knew he'd only scoop up the plate and glass and leave, but I wasn't going to make it easier for him to ignore me.
It seemed he'd done a little of his own place setting. On top of my plate was a large box wrapped in silver paper and a red bow.
"What's this?"
"It's on your plate. Why don't you open it?"
I picked up the box, which was kind of heavy, and shook it teasingly. He rolled his eyes and gestured with a twist of his finger to get on with it. I gingerly pulled the paper.
"Don't tell me you're one of those who try to unwrap a present without tearing the paper?"
I grinned. "Maybe." I didn't want to tell him that I hadn't had many gifts to practice unwrapping, so I was savoring this one.
Holt rolled his eyes again, but he remained smiling. I slid my finger under the final piece of tape.
"Oh!" The paper slid off to reveal a laptop computer; a new one, not an old one like I had been saving for. Regret filled me. "I can't accept this, Holt."
The smile fell from his face. "Why not?"
"It's...it's too much." Oh, but I wished I could. It would take me months to save for a new computer, especially now that I had so many things to replace after the fire.
"Maddy, please accept it. I know how much tutoring means to you, and since for now you're dependent on me for rides, you're also stuck with my schedule which means you can't commit to what days you can volunteer. This way you're free to work from here or work, or wherever we are. And I saw how good you were with Ethan. There're a lot of kids who need someone like you to help them."
I hesitated.
"Consider it my gift to the education of the future of America," he teased.
"I'll find a way to pay you back," I promised.
"You sort of miss the point of a gift, don't you?" He rubbed his stomach. "Besides, all these meals you insist on cooking are saving me a ton of money on carry out and restaurants. I still come out ahead in this deal."
"Thank you, Holt. This means a lot to me." Deciding to push him a little further, I pointed to his plate. "Maybe you could join me tonight?"
Something akin to discomfort flashed across his face before he quickly masked it. "Sure. Should I get some wine?"
"That would be nice." That was another thing Holt had introduced me to. I'd never drunk anything alcoholic before meeting him, partly because of the unavailability in prison, but also because I'd seen what it had done to my father. Even tho
ugh he didn't join me, Holt always offered to pour me a glass along with his. For whatever reason - the desire to try something new, an effort to become more sophisticated, or an attempt to draw his attention - I'd accepted his offer and quickly acquired a liking for it.
He poured the wine while I served the meal. Dinner was long finished, and we still chatted about a few things going on at the law firm and some other idle chitchat.
His eyes closed while he chewed. "Oh, I definitely got the better end of this deal. You're a fabulous cook, Maddy. My only problem is how much weight I'm going to gain."
Looking at how trim and toned he was, I doubted it. I quickly looked away before he caught me. I shrugged. "I like to cook. My grandmother's recipes are coming back to me the more time I spend in the kitchen."
He put his fork down. "This is nice."
I raised an eyebrow in question.
"Sharing the meal."
"Then why do I feel like you've been avoiding me this week? I know you're used to having your space. You don't need to babysit me, you know. If you need me to leave--"
"No!" His voice was loud and sharp. He blew out a breath. "I mean, no, I don't want you to leave."
"Then what is it, Holt? I'm so confused. You say you want to be friends, you say you care about me, and then you push me away. So what is it?” I looked into his tortured face. “Whatever it is, I can take it."
He breathed hard, then stood up from his chair so fast it tipped over backward. He took two steps toward me and grabbed me by the forearms, yanking me from my chair so hard I slammed into him. I automatically reached out and grabbed onto him.
Yesterday's Tomorrows Page 17