She had looked at the tags David had put on the furniture, going through and making a list of what was in the room, it’s type and date, taking pictures with her phone. She knew he was going to give her a report, but she felt better knowing she would have her own to use as a reference as well.
Sighing, she thought of how much work she had accomplished and they had only taken care of two rooms, albeit the two largest room. She also considered the conversation she was going to have to have with her boss and dreaded it. He was not going to like her asking for another week, but she knew there was no way she could be finished with everything in the next week.
Rising from the water, she stepped onto the bathmat and toweled off before climbing into her tank top and sleep shorts. Hearing her phone ring, she checked the screen and answered. “Hey Mom.”
“Honey, how are you? Saul and I’ve been worried.”
“No reason, Mom. The funeral was fine and I found some friends and acquaintances of Dad’s to help.”
“I’m surprised Lenny had any friends left. They weren’t drunks were they?”
“Mom! Jesus, will you stop. They were all great. Dad belonged to the American Legion here and they did a lovely service.” The phone line was quiet, and she sighed, suddenly exhausted to her bones.
“Well, please tell me you’re almost finished with the house and will be back soon.”
“To be honest, this is taking longer than I expected, so I’ll be here another week.”
“Another week? Did your supervisor approve that?”
“I’ve got vacation time saved up—”
“God, it’s just like your dad to take up your vacation time.”
“Uh, Mom. Dad’s dead, so I hardly think he had anything to do with it.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, I have a lot to do. You and Saul could have come to help, you know.”
“Honey, I didn’t want Saul to be there. I’m sure you’ll do a perfectly good job and then you can come back.”
“Sure Mom. Listen, I’ve got to go, so I’ll talk to you soon.” Disconnecting, she wondered why she had not told her mother of the scrapbooks. Biting her lip, she acknowledged that, for now, she wanted something of her fathers that was just hers.
Moving into her bedroom, she looked at the notebooks now piled on top of the dresser, once more allowing her mind to wander down the path of attempting to understand what her father’s reasons had been.
Turning on her heel, she walked across the short hallway to her father’s room. Standing in the doorway, she allowed the memory of her parents living in this room…together…married…at one time, happy, to invade her thoughts. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she let the breath out slowly before stepping inside. The scent of her father’s aftershave still hung in the air, sending her back in time.
“Daddy, you smell good.”
“You think so, little Maddie? Your momma likes it,” he said, nuzzling her neck and making her giggle before grabbing her mother around the waist and nuzzling her neck as well.
“Lenny,” her mom laughed, “go on and wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”
She set the table and waited, anxiously, for her dad to return, loving dinnertime as a family.
He sat down, bringing with him a beer, moving the glass of iced tea out of the way. She watched her mom give him a narrowed-eye look, but he just smiled and said, “Dorothy, a man’s gotta have a drink at the end of the workday. It’s kinda like a reward.”
Madelyn looked at her mom and saw her grimace, but since her dad always smiled and joked at dinner, she didn’t think the drink must be a bad thing.
Startling at the memory, she pushed farther into the room, her pleasant memory being replaced with ones where he would drink from dinnertime right through to bedtime, eventually needing her mother’s help in getting to bed. And then the arguments would ensue. And I’d have to cover my head with all my blankets to get to sleep.
Her lips pinched and as she moved past the dresser mirror she caught a glimpse of herself. For a flash, she saw her mother in the reflection.
Forcing the morose thoughts from her mind, she opened the top drawer, seeing his wallet, comb and brush, neatly folded handkerchiefs, and a few odds and ends. The second drawer held folded underwear and socks, and the two drawers below that contained some other articles of clothing, but nothing more.
Turning, she faced the room once more. I’ve got to deal with his clothes and personal possessions. Moving to the closet, she opened the door, seeing her father’s clothes clean and hanging on hangers. Her assessing gaze moved over the collection of pants, shirts, and a dark suit with a few pairs of shoes and work boots lined up on the floor. Everything appeared so neat, so uncluttered. She remembered the day she and her mom had left, whiskey and beer bottles littering the house. Heaving a sigh, she muttered, “The last thing I need is more memories dragging me down.” Realizing his clothes would easily be bagged for a trip to Goodwill, she felt relieved.
Her gaze moved to the shelf, seeing several boxes stacked in the corner. Standing on her toes, she managed to pull them down, sneezing as the dust rose from the movement. Curious, she set them on the bed and lifted the lid off of the top one.
More notebooks filled the box, each with a date written in permanent marker on the outside. Opening the first one, dated the year she turned sixteen, her heart jolted in her chest as she read the first words on the page…Dear Maddie,
Gasping, she stood, cold seeping into her heart, staring at the pages written in her father’s longhand. What the hell? She unpacked four notebooks, her fingers clutching the one with the earliest date. Sitting on his bed, she opened the first page, suspecting that her world was about to change forever.
11
Dear Maddie,
Today was a good day. The sun was shining over the bay and I spent some time fishing off the pier. I work most weekends at Martin’s farm, so I have a couple of days off during the week to help out at the hardware store. But sometimes, I have a day off and will go fishing, if I’m not searching for antiques. It reminds me of the times I would take you and we’d fish all day, catching flounder. We’d take them home and your momma would fry them up for dinner. Now, it’s just me, but I still need to find things to do to fill my lonely days.
It’s been a while since your momma took you away. I can’t blame her. I gave into the temptation of drinking too much and too many times. She’d beg me to get some help but I just didn’t see it. I never meant to become a drunk. There…I said it. I was a drunk. And your momma was right to take you away until I could get myself straight.
I’m just sorry that it took something so horrible to get me to see the error of my ways. I’ve been in counseling recently. I know I needed to change and I’ve been working on it. Realized my dad, grandpa, uncle, and even a cousin drank too much. I just never saw it as a problem. They say you have to hit rock bottom and having you taken away from me was hitting rock bottom. I’d give anything to have you back home with me.
I messed up when I said I didn’t want to see you. What I really meant was that I didn’t want you to see me until I got myself sobered up. I talked to your momma and she said that she needs to make sure I won’t go back to drinking and then she’ll bring you back to me and we can be a family again. I’m working on it, sweet Maddie. I love you, Dad
Gasping as she finished the entry, she lay the notebook on her lap, unaware of her tears until one dripped off her chin and landed on the page, making an ink spot over the words sweet Maddie.
He talked to mom? She told him we would get back together? But, she always told me he was still a drunk who didn’t want us in his life. Dizzy, she sucked in a deep breath, wondering what else he was going to say.
Memories flooded back, nights where her father had trouble walking up the stairs and her mother had to help him. The mornings when she would catch the school bus and her normally early-rising father would still be lying in bed. Her mother angry because he lost his job a
nd she had to pick up extra hours at the pharmacy where she was a cashier.
She knew her father drank but she had no idea how much of a problem it had become until it was too late. Was I that blind? Could I have done something? She remembered lying in bed and hearing her parents argue but just figured that was normal.
Afraid to read more, she was also afraid not to. Turning to the next page, she continued to devour his words.
Maddie, I continue to ask your mother to let me write to you or talk to you on the phone, but she says it’s not a good idea. She wants me to be completely better before I do that and I hope it’s not too late when she determines that it’s time. I’m trying, I really am.
I'm still in counseling and have joined a group called AA. It’s been hard to face up to my past and to my problems. I always thought of myself as a good husband…I loved your mother from the first moment I laid eyes on her in high school. And when she gave birth to you, I could have sworn the heavens opened up and shone right down on me.
And then I celebrated with my buddies at the bar. Looking back, it seems like I did that a lot. Too much, in fact. I had no idea how much alcohol came to mean to me. It helped me get up and face the day when I wasn’t too happy at my job. Then it made me feel better at the end of the day when I got off work. Alcohol with supper. After supper. And then, so much I don’t remember.
But I’m getting help and my counselor says keeping this journal will be good for me. Just remember I love you, sweet Maddie, Dad
Blowing out a long breath of air from her lungs, she closed the notebook, unwilling to read anymore tonight. Her mother had told her when they left Baytown that her father was a “mean drunk” who did not care about them anymore. It stung, she had never seen that side of him, but she had been willing to go where her mother moved them because it was nice to not have to face the fighting anymore. And, if her father really did not want to be with them, then, in her adolescent mind, that was more reason to stay away. I may have questioned it once, but after hearing it from his mouth that he didn’t want to see me…I knew everything my mom said was true. But now…
Her mother had also said that her father was someone who was toxic in her life. Her mom had remarried by the time she graduated from high school, so she never expected her father to be a presence in her life. Saul had been a decent stepfather and seemed to still be taken with her mother after all these years.
Placing the notebook back into the box, she carried it to her room, setting it on her dresser along with the scrapbooks he had made. Rubbing her hand over her forehead to quiet her tumultuous thoughts, she crawled into bed, willing her mind to ease. She knew sleep would be elusive, but if she was going to finish cleaning out the house so she could get back to her job in another week, she needed to focus on the task at hand. There would be time for reminiscing…and reading, later.
“Aren’t you getting tired of this?”
“You gotta be kidding. This is what I live for.”
“Fires? Come on. It was fun at first, but what if we get caught?”
“Caught? How the hell is anyone gonna catch us. Didn’t you listen when I was reading the newspaper article about us? We’re called the Ghost Arsonist. That’s because we slip in and out like ghosts and no one can see us or figure out who we are.”
“I guess so…I still think it’s getting riskier.”
“You trust me, don’t you?”
A long sigh followed by silence flowed between the two. Finally, a tired, “Yeah,” was heard.
“Good. ‘Cause this is just the beginning. We’re gonna be famous. You’ll see.” With that, they climbed into the van and pulled out of the driveway.
When the alarm sounded, Zac was jerked from a deep sleep. Blinking, his body moved before his brain had caught up. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he stood and hustled through the door and into the station.
Listening to the call, he yelled for the overnight volunteers to take the truck, since he had to drive the ambulance.
Jerking on his shirt, he fumbled with the buttons, desperately trying to shake the dream from his mind. My old man…why the hell did I dream about my old man? Pushing the image down to the recesses of his brain, he focused on the task at hand. Pulling out in front of the fire truck, he sped down the road.
Soon the fire scene came into view and he was glad to see Station 23, Cherrytown, had the situation well in hand. Another shed had burned to the ground and as his station responded, they relieved the firefighters that had arrived first. Seeing one of the volunteers, coat and helmet off, sitting by their truck, he parked the ambulance close by.
Alighting, he jogged over, the medical kit in his hand. “What’s up, Roger?”
“One of my men, Buster, lives nearby and responded first. He tried to contain the fire until we could get here, but some sparks landed on his hand and arm.”
Nodding, Zac moved in as the volunteer fireman’s friends stepped back. “Hey, Buster. I’m Zac Hamilton, Chief of Station 24. Let’s have a look.”
It did not take long to treat the minor burns, but he explained what he was doing and the policy that would need to be followed. “You’ll need to see a physician and your Chief will give you the paperwork necessary for the county to file. I know it might seem like a pain in the ass, but keep in mind, you agreed to this when you became a volunteer firefighter.”
“Yeah, I know,” Buster grumbled. “Seems like a whole lotta work for something so minor.”
“We don’t take chances,” he replied, then laughed as Buster shot him an incredulous, wide-eyed look. “Okay, I’ll amend that. We don’t take chances with any injuries.”
Bister grinned and headed over to his Chief as soon as he was finished. Observing the extinguished fire, he packed up his supplies before checking with Terry. “Same old, same old?”
Nodding, Terry said, “Looks like it. Investigator is on their way. Goddamn, Zac, this is getting ridiculous. This person has got to be stopped.”
“Agreed. I keep thinking we’re lucky no one’s been hurt yet. But, my fear is that they’re gonna slip up and something really bad is going to happen.”
“I know what you mean…it’s like I can feel it in my bones. It’s only going to get worse.”
A cold shiver ran through Zac, piercing him straight to his heart. Sucking in a deep breath, he called for his team to pack up and head back to Baytown. As soon as they were gone, he did the same.
Madelyn stood at the kitchen counter, mindlessly dipping her tea bag into the hot water. With barely a glance toward the mirror before coming downstairs, she knew what she looked like…messy hair pulled into a bun, no makeup to cover the dark circles from little sleep and red-rimmed eyes from last night’s crying fest.
She knew David was coming over this morning and she still did not care about how she looked. Hearing a knock on the door, she moved slowly from the kitchen to let him in. Instead, she was faced with Zac standing on her front porch, his smile disarming.
“Mornin’,” Zac greeted. It was hard to see her clearly through the screen door and he hoped he was not intruding. “Uh…is this a bad time?” She unlatched the screen and opened it, her lips forced a smile but it did not reach her eyes.
“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She wiped her hand over her face and shrugged. “Sorry, I had a bit of a rough night.”
He was just about to ask her if he could help when another car pulled into the driveway, parking next to his truck. He watched as David alighted from his pristine vehicle before turning back to see her face as it fell. He hated the idea of her being alone with David Wills, whose ingratiating manner got on his nerves. “Mind if I stay?”
She jerked her gaze from the approaching David to his and nodded her head quickly. “Yes, I’d like you to stay, please.”
Grinning, he nodded. “How about I make a cup of coffee while you get him sorted?”
Smiling the first smile since the previous night, Ma
delyn replied, “I’ve got some tea started but help yourself to the coffee.”
He squeezed her shoulder and moved back to the kitchen while she greeted David and they decided to have him finish cataloging what was in the dining room first.
Watching David pulling out his laptop, papers, and tags, she turned and walked into the kitchen, halting at the sight of Zac standing in her space, his broad back to her as he poured a cup of coffee. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Your tea is ready, but do you put honey in it?”
Stepping into the room, she asked, “How about a lot of honey?”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah...”
“You want to talk about it?” Zac held her gaze, hoping she would trust him.
She pondered his offer before glancing back into the next room where David was working. Heaving a sigh, she shook her head, and replied, “Not now. But…sometime.”
Stepping closer, he peered down at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anytime, Maddie. Just say the word. I’m here…really, I’m here for you.”
Madelyn stared into his eyes, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze and wondered how she could feel so lost and so found all at the same time.
“Madelyn, what do you want to do with these pieces of glass?”
The call from the dining room startled her and she shot him an apologetic glance. “Just a minute,” she yelled back. Twisting her head back to Zac, she said, “I never asked you what you were doing here today.”
“Well, I’ve got some time and thought I’d offer to help.”
“Really?’
“Absolutely.”
“I’ve got a few pieces of furniture that David said have little value and I’m going to put them in the shed for now. They were too large for me to move by myself, but I got them to the back porch.” She took a sip of tea, leaning her hip against the counter and noticed he stepped closer as he reached around her to grab his cup. Instead of moving back, he stayed right next to her, his smile capturing her attention once more.
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