Barefoot Summer (20 page)

“I have rehearsals Thursday and Friday, and Dottie warned us they’d run late. I’m free tomorrow though.”

“I have Bible study.” He sighed. “So, guess not until Saturday, then.”

They had a few minutes of quiet conversation before calling it a night. Madison turned on the TV and settled back into a happy cocoon of contentment.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

M
ADISON WOKE ON
S
ATURDAY TO WIND THAT MADE THE
windows rattle. Lulu stirred at her feet and laid her head on Madison’s leg. Morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a golden hue over her quilt.

PJ had spent the night the weekend before, a final girls’ night before she returned to college. They’d watched two movies and shared a tub of butter pecan, staying up half the night. Madison missed her already, even more so since both sisters were gone. PJ had promised to come home the last weekend in August for the regatta and the first weekend in September for Madison’s birthday.

The phone rang, and she knew who it was before checking her caller ID.

“Hi there.” She sat up in bed, smoothing her hair as if Beckett could see her.

“Have you stepped outside?”

“No, but I can hear the wind from here. The weather seems to be conspiring against me.”

“It’s supposed to be windy tomorrow too.”

Lulu jumped to the floor, poking her nose between the slit in the curtains as if ascertaining the weather for herself.

“We’re running out of time. The regatta’s next week, and I still have so much to learn.”

“Maybe we can squeeze in a lesson one evening next week.”

“I have rehearsals Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. Do you have Bible study Wednesday?”

“Yeah. How about Friday?”

“Evan and I are running through the course.” It would be their last chance before the regatta.

“Good idea. We could meet before work Thursday morning. Get your boat in the water and do some practice runs.”

He’d started the motor the last time he’d been over and said it sounded good. “Sounds good. You sure we can’t chance it today?”

“In this wind? No.”

“You’d go out if it were just you.”

“Well, it’s not, so just put it out of your pretty head. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Though she was disappointed, his concern for her safety pleased her.

“How’s the boat looking?” he asked.

“Good. Ryan and PJ helped me prime and paint. That method you showed me worked great. It almost looks like it was sprayed. And Mom helped me clean out the cabin—took most of last Sunday.”

“Color turn out the way you wanted?”

“Perfect. Midnight blue. PJ painted the name in white script. She’s good at that stuff.”

There was a moment’s silence. She wasn’t ready to hang up—she’d been hoping he’d ask to spend the day with her.

“Well,” he said, “I should get going. I have motors to repair by this afternoon.”

She’d forgotten he worked on Saturdays when his boss wasn’t letting him off for her lessons. Still, maybe he’d ask her out tonight. Maybe they could go for a bike ride or grab a pizza at Cappy’s.

“So, Thursday morning, six o’clock?” he asked. “I’ll bring my trailer, and we’ll put her in the water.”

She swallowed the lump of disappointment. “Sure, see you then.”

After she hung up, she tugged the quilt to her chin and reached out to pet Lulu. “Well, girl. I guess it’s just you and me today.”

Beckett hung up the phone and went back to the Mercury outboard, feeling irritable. He wanted to see Madison today, had wanted to ask her out. If it were a week ago, he could’ve.

But everything was different now with his dad home. When Beckett had left this morning, he’d been reading
The Old Man and the Sea
and nursing his first bottle for the day. But Beckett knew how that went. By tonight Dad would want to hit his favorite tavern, and Beckett was going to do everything he could to keep that from happening. Or if he couldn’t stop it, then he’d insist on driving his dad home.

He’d have to settle for a phone call to Madison—if she didn’t have plans. His gut twisted at the thought of her going out with Drew Landon. He’d meant to ask about the doctor, but everything had flown from his mind the minute he’d heard her sleepy greeting.

When four o’clock rolled around, he locked up the building
and headed home. As he pulled into the drive, he spotted his dad working on his old red Mazda.

A savory scent floated in the air, making Beckett’s mouth water. “You’re smoking brisket.”

“Been craving it for months. Should be ready around five.”

“Sounds great.” Beckett nodded toward the car. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Mice chewed up the wires while I was away.”

“Need help?”

Dad took a long swig of his beer. “I’m about done.”

They had to have the conversation. It had never worked before, but he had to keep trying. Maybe this last stint in jail was enough.

Dad lowered the hood and started the car. It turned over easy. His dad was the best mechanic around, had taught Beckett everything he knew.

He followed Dad into the backyard where he checked the brisket. Beckett settled on the rickety picnic table. He wished he could avoid the conversation. For a moment he envied Layla, who’d had the freedom to get her own place. But Grandpa had signed the house over to Beckett before he’d gone to the nursing home. If he hadn’t, it would’ve gone to pot by now.

Dad closed the smoker and leaned against the table, cradling the amber bottle. He hadn’t shaved since his return, but he’d had his salt-and-pepper hair clipped at some point. Fine lines had become deep crevices over the past year, and the jail diet had left his cheeks gaunt. It was hard to believe, looking at him now, but he used to be a nice-looking man.

“When do you start back to work?” Beckett asked, deciding to ease into the conversation.

“Hah! Harvey won’t have me back, already talked to him.” He cursed. “I’m the best mechanic they’ve got and he knows it.”

Never mind that he was away for months on end or that he didn’t always show up at work in the best of condition.

“Dad, we need to talk.”

Dad pushed off the table. “Not this again. Why don’t you just tape the lecture, and I’ll play it every so often.”

“Dad. You have a problem.”

He threw up his hands, the bottle sparkling in the late afternoon sun. “I shouldn’t have driven drunk, I know that. I already served my time—are you going to punish me too?”

“You’re an alcoholic.”

He laughed, shook his head. “You just don’t give up, do you? If I was an alcoholic, I couldn’t have gone months without a drink. Did I get the shakes? Did I have sweats or hallucinations? No, I didn’t. I did just fine. I don’t need to drink, I
like
to drink. There’s a difference.”

“Just because you don’t have withdrawal doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“If I was an alchy I’d know it. I couldn’t hold down a job or raise a family.”

Beckett bit back the retort that balanced on his tongue. After Mom left, Beckett and Layla had raised themselves, with Grandpa’s help, while Dad tried to drink away his pain. He was still trying to drink away the pain.

“We can get you help, Dad. It’s not too late to make a life for yourself. You could open that barbecue joint like you always wanted. You make the best brisket and ribs I’ve ever tasted. It would go over big with the locals, with the tourists. But first you have to get sober.”

Dad smirked. “You have a bunch of money sitting around someplace I don’t know about?”

“We’d need a business plan and a bank loan. I’ll help any way I can.”

“I’m too old for that.”

“You’re barely in your fifties. You have lots of life ahead of you. But you have to get the drinking under con—”

“Ahhh! Enough, Beckett!” Dad threw up his hands and walked away. He entered the back door, and the screen door slapped shut behind him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

M
ADISON STARED AT THE NUMBERS ON THE
E
XCEL SHEET
until they blurred together. She reviewed her day, then her mind drifted to the phone conversation with Beckett the night before. It sounded like his week had been as hectic as hers. She hoped he’d call tonight after Bible study.

She thought of the boat sitting in her driveway. Every time she came and went, it beckoned. She was eager to get it on the water and see what it could do.

She frowned at the work on her desk, then began clearing it away as an idea formed. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

“You busy?” she asked when her brother answered.

Forty-five minutes later she was sitting in the boat, guiding Ryan as he backed the trailer down the ramp across from Riverside Park.

“Straight back.” She hung on to the side of the boat as the trailer tires went down the ramp and into the river. “You got it.”

This was much better than sitting at her desk. She wasn’t going to sail, just wanted to make sure the boat was in working order before Friday.

The truck tires reached the water line, and she felt the boat lift. “Okay, that’s good.”

Ryan put the truck in park and got out. “I can’t believe the regatta’s only three days away. Everyone at the fire station is pulling for you.”

“I hope I’ll be ready.”

Ryan looked toward the setting sun. “I wish you’d wait. It’s going to be dark soon.”

“I’m just running her out and back. And I’m wearing my flotation device.” She’d bought a brand-new PFD last week at Bill’s Bait and Tackle.

“You know, boats sometimes give off too much carbon monoxide. You could pass out and fall in.”

“Hence the inflatable.”

He checked his watch. “Maybe I should stay. I could be a little late.”

“Good grief, I’m perfectly capable. Beckett showed me how to do all this. It’s not rocket science.”

“Beckett, huh?” He put his hands on his waist.

It was probably time to let the cat out of the bag. “We’re kind of going out now. Just so you know.”

“Mom and Dad know?”

“Not really.” They’d just have to adjust. “He’s a good guy, Ryan. They’ll see that if they give him a chance.”

He nodded slowly. “
If
they give him a chance. Start her up, and make sure she’s running okay.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a big brother.”

She pumped the primer bulb, throttled to start, and gave the rope a couple quick yanks. The outboard motor started on the third try, roaring loudly. She adjusted the choke until the boat idled smoothly, vibrating gently under her.

“Happy now?” she called over the motor.

“Have your cell?”

“Yes, Mr. Safety. You can go now.”

“How’ll you get home?”

“I live four blocks away. Go to your meeting, McKinley.” She gave him a saucy smile as she reversed the boat slowly past the slips where she’d tie off the boat later, then headed out into the open river.

The sun, low in the sky, glimmered across the water and warmed her skin. The slight breeze from the boat’s motion skimmed her hair from her shoulders.

A smile tugged at her lips. She was doing it. She was riding in Michael’s boat. Okay, so she wasn’t sailing, but it was on the water. She’d refurbished it, made her into the kind of boat he’d wanted. She felt closer to Michael out here, somehow. Could almost feel him beside her in the cockpit, hear his laughter ringing in her ears.

You see us, Michael? Doesn’t she look amazing?
Madison ran her hand along the white trim as a pang of loneliness hit her so hard her middle ached.

Her eyes burned
. I wish you were here. I miss you. I’m going to win the regatta for you, brother. You’ll see. I’ll make your dream come true.

She picked up speed as she left the harbor. The wind lifted her hair and tugged at her sleeveless shirt. Once she neared the middle, she turned downstream, then twisted the handle toward her, making the boat surge forward.

It felt like she was flying. She understood why Michael had loved being out here. It was just you and the roar of the motor. The wind on your face, the sunshine on your skin, and the water rippling away from the boat.

She rode downstream toward Louisville, passing no one on this quiet weekday evening. She wondered how long it would take to reach Louisville, how long it would take to reach Cincinnati, going upstream. She’d like to try it sometime, with the sails up.

Awhile later, the hills along both shores had turned almost
gray in the fading light. She flipped the switch for the navigation lights. Time to head back. She slowed, pushed the handle away, making a sweeping right turn, then accelerated.

The air had cooled, and the wind drew goose bumps on her arms and legs. Now that she was traveling upstream, the going was slower. She twisted the handle, accelerating.

Since the boat was fueled up and in the water, she and Beckett could spend all their time Thursday morning running through the course. She’d squeezed in a good practice with Evan this week. They worked well together, and he’d praised her efficient movements and knowledge of terms. Beckett had taught her well. Plus she’d borrowed a few racing books he’d recommended from the library and had been poring over them until the wee hours of the morning.