“It’s too much, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’ll put on the dress I wore yesterday.” He caught the door before I could close it on him.
“You look lovely. No need to change.” He wrapped his arms around me compassionately, massaging slow circles on my back.
Zac’s support didn’t falter as we arrived at the Holy Rosary Church, a stoic old stone building. The inside was solemn in comforting silence, with a large cross in the front and serene statues of Mary and Joseph. In the raised sanctuary, a large candle was lit in front of the plain wood altar. As I settled into the shelter of Zac’s arm, I couldn’t rally the energy to rebuke myself for depending on him again. My pride was no match for my heartache.
The Requiem Mass wasn’t overly long and was consoling in its tradition. The priest spoke of Aunt Ceci’s generosity, eagerness to help others in the community, and great faith. It brought all of us a small measure of peace.
At the cemetery, the cheerful sunshine created an absurd setting for a burial. We sat in the front row of chairs under the tent, among stone memorials that were indifferent to our grief. I saw tears flowing down Zac’s face, and I laid a hand softly on his cheek. He covered it with his own, placing a wistful kiss on my palm.
I gazed into his eyes; they were naked with emotion. In that moment, I understood the meaning of complete trust. I’d told Aunt Ceci everything, even revealing once that I’d talked to Angeline after she died. Aunt Ceci had loved me unconditionally anyway.
I could never expose myself like that again. No one would be capable of exonerating all my defects, especially my possible slide into madness. I began to sob helplessly. Zac pressed my head to his chest and wrapped me in his arms, his tears falling into my hair.
When the rite ended, the casket disappeared gradually into the earth. We stood, holding onto each other, and continued to stare bleakly after it completed its downward journey. We didn’t move as the other mourners drifted away.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The shout jarred me from my reverie. I glanced around, relieved to find it wasn’t directed at me. Zac stepped back, wiped his face gruffly, and strode away to see who was raising a commotion at a time like this. I felt adrift without his reassuring presence.
When I realized Father was standing in front of me, it was too late to escape. At sixty-six, he was trim. He wore an expensive tie and suit that was tailored perfectly to fit his five-foot-ten-inch frame, as befit a successful attorney. His classic nose and dignified graying hair would have made him handsome, except for the look of contempt that he seemed to wear with pride.
He pulled me into a hug that nearly made me gag. I found myself pushing him away as hard as I could.
“Get away from me!” I didn’t mean to say it so loudly.
“Can’t say hello to your father, Madisen?” His wounded tone was exaggerated. He dropped his hands when Uncle José stepped to my side and put a protective arm across me.
“We were never much for hugging, Father.”
“We used to be,” he said. “Madisen, you must spend some time with me. Come to the house for dinner tomorrow.”
“No thank you. We haven’t spoken for ten years. I don’t see the need to start now.”
“With Cecilia gone,” he asked, “who will keep me updated about your life, Madisen?” I knew it was a lie. Aunt Ceci would never have told him anything I shared with her.
Every time he said my name, it made my skin crawl.
“Mr. Chandler, Maddie says she doesn’t wish to see you,” Uncle José said. “We thank you for coming to pay your respects.”
I turned away with Uncle José and saw Zac standing with Carlos and his dad. Sheriff Rey was red-faced, and he seemed to struggle to keep his voice down. His stance was aggressive as he spoke to two striking women whom I’d never seen before. One looked about my age, and the other appeared to be in her late fifties. They both had ash-blonde hair, as did the little girl who held their hands.
Zac looked as though a spaceship had fallen out of the sky, and he stood face to face with aliens. I started to walk toward him when Uncle José stopped me.
“Best to let them handle this,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
I asked him who the women were. He shook his head without answering.
~~~
I laughed in surprise when I was grabbed up in a bear hug and lifted off my feet.
Aunt Ceci’s husband, William Ortiz, had died the year before I was born and she’d never remarried. When William’s two brothers, Frank and Steve, had arrived, Frank shook my hand formally. Steve, on the other hand, gave me the exuberant embrace.
Sheriff Rey’s home, where friends and family were gathering, was in an older neighborhood with mature trees lining the streets of well-kept houses. Gabriel and Juan, Uncle José and Sheriff Rey’s cousins from Independence, brought their families. Ladies from Aunt Ceci’s church were in the kitchen and living room setting out food; more neighbors overflowed to the back patio, despite the rising heat.
I was a little unnerved by the affection that everyone seemed eager to lavish on me. Eventually, I made my way to the kitchen. I helped Aunt Marie collect more ice and cups to set out, with pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade. The dining table overflowed with enchiladas, spicy pork simmering in crock pots for tacos, tamales wrapped in corn husks, soft tortillas, fresh salsa, casseroles, salads, rice, and beans. There were cookies, cakes, and pies for dessert. Coolers with beer, sodas, and water sat outside.
When Sheriff Rey, Zac, and Carlos arrived, I saw Uncle José and Sheriff Rey step into a bedroom to talk privately for several minutes. From the expression on Zac’s face, I knew something very unusual had happened. After saying hello to everyone, he came to kiss me on the cheek.
“Hi beautiful,” he said, smiling as I turned pink.
“Hello yourself. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“I know something’s up,” I said.
“It’s nothing worth discussing. Are you okay after seeing your father? I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”
“Don’t worry,” I said with a small shudder. “I’m fine. Uncle José was there. Hopefully, I won’t have to see him again.”
After everyone went back for second helpings and started on the desserts, someone found shoeboxes of old printed photos. With people gathered around, I sat on the sofa between Zac’s cousins, Teresa and Linda Marie, looking at the pictures. We three had been close in high school.
The sisters looked nothing alike. Teresa was two years younger than me. She took after her parents, Uncle José and Aunt Marie. She had purple-black hair, brown eyes with a hint of bronze around the iris, and dark olive skin. About a year ago, she’d married a boy she met at college, named Josh Wheeler. Linda Marie was my age, with frizzy light brown hair, dark blue eyes, and a fair complexion.
I was amazed at how many snapshots I was in. I saw myself with gangly arms and legs, when I was eleven years old at Aunt Ceci’s Ladies Club social; posing with her at a church dinner; with Sheriff Rey and Uncle José at a family picnic; swimming with Zac, Carlos, Teresa, and Linda Marie during summer vacation at the lake; running across the finish line at a track meet when I was a sophomore.
“There’s our Mad Dash!” Linda Marie exclaimed.
“She earned that nickname,” Sheriff Rey said, “the first year she was on the track team.” I blushed as he began the story as if everyone hadn’t already heard it. “Toward the end of the season, there was this big district meet. She was the third leg of the mile relay, usually the slot for the slowest one on the team. Our girls dropped the baton on the handoff from the lead runner to the second leg. We were so far behind there was no question we’d finish last.
“Those long legs of Maddie’s! One of her steps was twice as long as the other runners. Everyone was yelling when she started catching up. She closed the gap, then flew right past two of them. She put our team in such good position by the time she handed off to the anchor, we ended up get
ting second! Oh, our Maddie could run! You’re still running, aren’t you, mi’ja?”
I smiled at his use of the Spanish endearment that meant “my daughter.”
“Yes,” I answered. “Now I run longer distances than I did in high school, at a much slower pace.”
“Aunt Ceci went to as many of your track meets as she could,” Linda Marie said. “She was proud of you.”
“I remember,” I said. “I could always hear her yelling from the stands, ‘Run, mi’ja! Run!’ She was my biggest fan.” Linda Marie put her arm around my shoulders.
That simple gesture made my heart warm, and I considered how much time I’d spent with the Redondo family growing up. I would never forget that and always be grateful.
Chapter 6
I SETTLED INTO the chair Zac pulled out for me at Machelle’s Restaurant. After spending the afternoon reminiscing, we’d agreed to have some quiet time away from the crowd and go out to eat with Carlos, Josh, and the girls.
I saw Carlos catch Zac’s eye and motion with his head as he nudged in Linda Marie’s seat. I glanced in the direction he indicated and inhaled sharply. Across the room, Father sat in a booth with the beautiful younger woman from the cemetery. I almost asked Zac to take me to the hotel immediately. Almost. I decided not to allow Father to drive me away every time we bumped into each other. As calmly as I could I looked over the menu while my heart thumped in my ears.
Everyone at the table seemed tired from the day’s emotional turmoil, so we ate most of our meal in companionable silence. I tried to relax. Knowing Father was close by made me jumpy.
We were almost finished eating when Zac stood abruptly. Everyone else rose, too. A moment later, I heard a voice behind me.
“You’re too good to spend time with your father. But you can be seen out with these beaners.” I gasped at the insult. His voice was a little too loud, and a tiny bit slurred.
Carlos approached him and crowded him back.
“Let’s go,” Zac whispered to me. He led me quickly out the door. Josh, Teresa, and Linda Marie went to the hostess station to take care of the check.
Father wasn’t going to let me escape that easily. Though Carlos blocked him, he shoved past. He caught up with us in the parking lot, Carlos trailing close behind.
“Don’t you walk away from me, you ungrateful bitch!” Father yelled. I stopped, despite Zac’s efforts to hustle me into his truck. I didn’t care if he was rude to me. However, I drew the line at rudeness to my friends.
“Hello, Father. I see you’ve had a few drinks. I think you need to apologize to Zac and his family.” I’d never spoken to him like that before. It was exhilarating and very frightening.
“I don’t owe anyone an apology,” he spat. “You should apologize to me, you selfish slut. Gone for ten years without a word, without a single call. Never visiting me, or your mother. You didn’t even bother to come home when she was moved into the care facility. Yet you come back for the funeral of your darling Aunt Ceci. I’m the one who fed you, put clothes on your back, and paid for your education. You owe me. You owe your mother for the loss of Angeline.”
There it was. I cringed as if I’d been kicked.
“If you want, I’ll pay you back the money,” I replied, trying to stay calm. I couldn’t keep my voice from trembling. “I don’t owe you anything else. You never loved me.”
He moved so fast Zac was unable to block him. He slapped me hard across my cheek. It made my eyes water. I was completely stunned.
Carlos shot over and pinned Father’s arms behind him at the elbows. Zac tugged me away by the waist and hoisted me into the truck. He leaped behind the wheel and quickly exited the parking lot. He traveled a few blocks down a side street, then pulled over. I was sitting in a stupor with my hand on my face. He reached across, touching me tenderly on my shoulder.
“Are you all right? I’m sorry, I should’ve kept him away from you. I didn’t think he’d get physical.”
“Yes,” I mumbled. He brushed his fingers lightly over my cheek, searching my eyes. I stared steadily back at him. “I’ve never said things like that to him before.”
“You did good, baby,” he soothed, stroking my neck.
Baby? I sat in bewildered silence for the rest of the drive to the hotel.
Zac led me into the dim room and drew me onto his lap as he sat on the bed.
“It’ll be okay. I’m here for you,” he whispered, caressing my temple. His tenderness was something I’d never experienced from a man. Leaning against his chest, I began to cry, letting go of years of pain accumulated at my father’s hands.
I didn’t hold back. With eyes streaming, nose running, choked moans, blubbering sobs, and wet hiccups, I let the agony flow out of me. A big wet spot blossomed on Zac’s shirt. He consoled me, kissing my forehead, and patting my back. All the while he murmured reassurances.
Finally, my sniffles subsided. He continued to hold me, and I felt an overpowering need to find something decent and good. I wanted to clean away the taint of Father’s cruelty. I looked up and slowly pressed my mouth to Zac’s. His lips were like silk. Unable to withstand my insistent teasing for long, he opened to me. I smoothed my tongue around his languidly, cajoling him to give in. Seduction was something I was familiar with.
Sliding my arms around his neck, I pulled his body close. He began kissing me back fervently, and our touching quickly grew more sensual and heated. I found his shirt buttons and opened them to expose his skin. I moaned at his rippled abs, the solidness of his chest. My fingertips explored and caressed without breaking our kiss. Oh, my God. I needed to get closer to him. I straddled his lap, excited to find that I had provoked an erection. I rubbed against it and began to push him back on the bed.
“Whoa,” he panted, putting his hands on my shoulders to move me away. “Slow down.”
“Why?” I asked. “I thought you wanted this.”
“I do, I want you more than you could possibly imagine. But not like this. It’s not right for our first time. I want it to happen because you’re ready to be with me, not when you’re so vulnerable.”
I was astounded at how easily he could reject me. Mortification sluiced through my veins. I needed to escape from him and hide my humiliation. Fast. I retreated to the bathroom to assuage my wounded pride.
You’re an embarrassment, Madisen. Get your shit together. I blew my nose and splashed my face with cool water. My makeup was wrecked, and my nose an ugly red. I cleaned up the running mascara and applied more foundation and blush. I couldn’t do anything to hide my puffy, bloodshot eyes. My hair was a mess. I took out the pins and combed it quickly. I took some calming breaths.
Zac was standing by the door when I emerged and enfolded me in his arms. I didn’t return his hug and tried to wriggle away. It made him hold onto me tighter.
“Trust me, Maddie,” he said. “I want you more than anything.” He inhaled the scent of my hair as he ran his fingers through it. “We’ll have to be patient until the time is right.”
I didn’t answer and followed him reluctantly back to the bed. He sat, stretching out his legs, and leaned back against the mustard burlap headboard. When I stood unmoving, he patted the spot beside him. I held out for a minute more before giving in and sitting. Being careful to leave several inches of space between us, I turned on the bedside lamp.
“Why did your father say that to you about Angeline?” he asked. “Why would you owe your mother because she died?”
“Both my parents blame me for her death,” I said. He looked thunderstruck. “I don’t think Father believes I was the one who actually held her under the water,” I explained. “Although, I think Mother wants to believe that. They both wish I had died instead of her.”
“Good God,” he whispered. “That’s unreasonable. Why would they want that?”
“They always favored her over me. I was uncoordinated, skinny, withdrawn and timid. Angeline was beautiful and outgoing, very approachable. She had this otherworldly, angelic quality.
No one could resist, everyone adored her. She made everything seem right with the world just by smiling.”
“Did you hate her because they loved her more?” he asked.
“No, never. She was always my biggest advocate. She shielded me from their harshness and prevented them from ignoring me completely. She always tried to coax Father into giving me my share of everything. If he didn’t, she would pass her gifts on to me, behind his back of course. I was never concerned about the stuff. I was happy that she cared about me. She loved me.”
“And when she was gone?” he asked. “How did they treat you?” He wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger.
“They acted as if I didn’t exist. Father began spending more time at his offices and snubbed me most of the time. Mother was always out of it because she drank heavily and took sleeping pills. She seldom came out of their bedroom.” I beat back the resentment that always arose when I thought about Mother. “I was alone. I had no one until I met Tabs. And I realized Aunt Ceci was there for me.”
“What happened when your father didn’t ignore you?” Zac scooted close and took my hand. Concern filled his eyes, and he seemed to be holding his breath.
Chapter 7
“HE GOT ANGRY,” I said. A dark foreboding stirred deep inside. I refused to recognize it. “Yelled at me, reprimanded me for being in the way. He criticized me for anything he could. Aunt Ceci was there to intercept or take me away to another part of the house. I stayed with her overnight after Father opened his office in Blue Springs, and was out of town on Thursdays and Fridays. You know that I spent more and more evenings and weekends at her house until I went to college.
“About five years ago, Mother became more tormented than ever by memories of Angeline and her death. She claimed she had conversations with Angeline. She fell into such an intense grief that she stopped bathing and grooming herself. Sometimes she would go for days eating almost nothing, surviving on alcohol. After she attempted suicide with pills and vodka, she was never the same. The doctors found she had some brain damage caused by oxygen deprivation from the overdose. Her hold on reality slipped away. Now she spends most of her days lost in her own world.”
The Art of Going Home (The Art of Living series Book 1) Page 3