Barefoot Summer (21 page)
Reading and doing were two different things though. Experiencing the tug of the wind and the swing of the boom . . . she was glad she’d have Evan’s help on racing day. Still, she needed to know what she was doing if they had any hope of winning, handicap or no. Chapel Springs and the surrounding area had some seasoned sailors.
The sky had darkened, and a few lights peppered the distant shoreline. The sun had sunk more quickly than she expected, but she wasn’t far away now. She rounded a bend and, far in the distance, she could see Chapel Springs’ marina lights. She steered toward them, running through the next morning’s to-do list.
The motor hiccuped.
She looked back at it, frowning.
The motor hiccuped again. Then again. It made a sputtering sound, then it chugged a moment. The boat slowed, despite her grip on the handle.
No, no, no.
The motor gave one last burp and then stopped. Silence rang out across the river as the boat drifted to a stop, and the acrid stench of smoke filled her nostrils.
M
ADISON STOOD, LEGS APART AND KNEES BENT, AND YANKED
the rope. Nothing. She tried again three times before giving up.
The vessel bounced in its own wake. She sat down, catching her breath, her heart racing. What was she going to do?
Paddles. There should be paddles on board somewhere, right? It would take awhile to reach shore, but she was strong. She would paddle ashore and call Ryan.
She looked under the seats. Surely she’d have seen them when she and Mom cleaned. They’d scoured every inch of the place. Nevertheless, she looked in every cubby. Nothing.
She eyed the shore, maybe fifty yards away. That’s when she noticed her boat was drifting downstream. Away from Chapel Springs.
The hills were ghostly shadows against the night sky. The water had turned inky black in the fading light. She wondered how deep it was, her old fears resurfacing as she eyed it.
You can swim now, Madison. And you have your PFD on. You’re perfectly safe.
Safe but stuck. She had to call someone, and there was only one person who could get her out of this mess. She pulled out her cell, relieved to see two beautiful bars of reception.
Madison dialed his number and perched on the seat. Two rings, three.
Please answer.
He picked up on the fifth ring. “Hey. What’s up?” Beckett said quietly, and she remembered he had Bible study tonight.
“I’m so sorry to bother you. I, uh, need your help. I’m kind of . . . in trouble.”
“Just a sec.”
She heard some shuffling. Beckett’s muffled voice. Then he was back, his voice louder. “Where are you?”
“I’m sorry, I know you have Bible study tonight.”
“We were wrapping up. You okay?”
She gave a wry laugh that sounded choked. “Depends on your definition of okay. I’m kind of in the middle of the river with a dead motor.”
Over the line, she heard a door or something click shut. “Your boat?”
“It was running so well, and then . . . it wasn’t.”
“How far away are you?” An engine started.
“I can see the marina lights.” She looked toward them and realized she’d drifted around the bend. “Well, I could a minute ago. The current’s taking me farther away.” She shivered and crossed her arms against the chill.
“Go ahead and lower the anchor. Remember how?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” She set the phone down and lowered the anchor until it rested on the bottom.
“Okay, anchor’s down.”
“You’re downstream then? Toward Louisville?”
“Yeah.”
“Sit tight. It’ll be fine. Give me ten or fifteen minutes. Make sure your nav lights are on. You’re wearing your PFD, right?”
“Yeah.” She looked around at the darkness, pressing in from all sides, and wished she’d thought this through. She hadn’t minded
the water when she could see it. Now she could only hear it slapping the hull, feel it rocking the boat.
“You okay?”
Snap out of it, Madison.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Want me to stay on the line?”
She was being silly. “No, no. I’ll see you when you get here. Thanks, Beckett.”
She hung up and cradled the cell in her clammy palms. Her first time alone in a boat, and she gets in trouble.
And the motor—the regatta was three days away, and her motor was dead in the water. Literally. She hoped it could be repaired. She was pretty sure a new outboard motor ran a couple thousand dollars, and she sure didn’t have that sitting in the bank. Maybe she could borrow one. But every boater she knew was sailing in the regatta.
Even if the motor could be fixed, how long would it take, and how much would it cost? She’d already spent a pretty penny on the refurbishing.
The oscillating rasp of katydids, hundreds of them, echoed across the water. She huddled into the cockpit, leaning against the bulkhead to shelter her body from the wind. The air still smelled faintly of smoke.
She looked into the distance toward Chapel Springs, though she knew it was too soon to see help coming. He wouldn’t even have arrived at the marina yet.
She pulled out her cell phone and opened her e-mails, needing a distraction.
A splash sounded from somewhere nearby, and she jumped.
Just a fish, Madison.
But the reassurance did little to settle her heart or her nerves.
She forced herself to read her e-mails, mostly work stuff.
Mrs. Etter had sent her a photo of Perry’s family with the basset hound pup. They looked happy together. Perry stood in the back with his wife. He was wearing his trademark do-rag, and the kids were front and center, the pup wriggling in a little girl’s arms, licking her face. Madison sent a reply and checked the rest of her e-mails.
PJ had sent a link about a search dog named Samson from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula that had made news for finding a seven-year-old girl who’d been missing a week.
She was finishing the article when she saw a red and a green light in the distance. Beckett? A minute later the lights were closer, and she heard the low hum of the motor as the boat approached.
She stood, ready to flag him down, but he was already headed her way, and it wasn’t like there was anyone else out here. He slowed as he neared, and she could see his silhouette beyond the bow light. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
The motor quieted as he circled her, drifting to the other side.
“You all right?”
“I am now. I have the fenders out starboard side. Can I help?”
The boat edged alongside hers. “Sit tight. I got it.”
He went to work with the ropes. A spring line led from his bow to her midship cleat, and another from his midpoint to her stern. When he seemed satisfied the lines were secure, he went to the driver’s seat.
“Okay, pull the anchor in and tell me when it’s on board.”
After the anchor was up, she gave the okay.
“Hang on.”
She grabbed onto the rail as he slowly accelerated, easing
both boats forward. He progressed slowly, constantly checking the lines.
Madison felt like a heel for taking him from his study, for being stupid enough to test the boat so close to dark. She was not telling Ryan about this. He’d never let her hear the end of it. Bad enough that Beckett knew.
It took over an hour to reach the marina, and by the time both boats were tied up, Madison was just glad to be on dry land again. She approached him on the dock as he finished the knot on the cleat and stood.
The marina lights cast a golden hue on his face. He looked tousled, his hair windblown, his jaw covered with a five o’clock shadow. They started walking down the pier.
“I don’t know how to thank you. Talk about up a creek without a paddle.”
His eyes crinkled as he gave a rare smile. “Speaking of paddles . . .”
“I’ll be buying them tomorrow.”
“And I’m sure this goes without saying, but—”
She held up her hand. “I know, I know. It was stupid and reckless, and I should’ve waited until tomorrow.”
His lips twitched. “Then we both would’ve been stuck on the water. I was going to say, I’ll work on the motor first thing tomorrow.”
He was always bailing her out lately. “Thanks. I hope it’s not too expensive.”
He gave her a look. “I’m not going to charge you, silly. It’ll probably be an easy fix anyway.”
“What am I going to do if it’s shot?”
“Let’s not borrow trouble.” He stopped by his truck, and she realized he’d driven up to the docks, parking illegally on the grass. It warmed her heart that he’d been in a hurry to rescue her.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s sweet, but Ryan dropped me. I’ll walk home.”
“You’ve had enough adventure for one night.” He opened the passenger door. “Hop in.”
The cab smelled like him, musky with a hint of spice. She drew in a deep breath. Nice. Manly.
After he got in, he started the truck and eased off the curb. “How far downstream did you go?”
“I’m not sure. I was going fairly fast for about half an hour. She was running really well too.” Madison sighed. So close to reaching Michael’s dream. Why did these things have to happen? Why did everything have to be so hard?
He nudged her shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. Haven’t met a motor yet I couldn’t fix.”
She shared a smile, and when he looked back to the road, she didn’t look away. She’d never dreamed in high school he would’ve turned out to be a gentleman, but somehow he had, despite his precarious upbringing.
She remembered the things Cassidy had said about him, thought of the things Beckett had told her about church and God. Had God really caused the change in his life? Made such a difference in Michael’s life?
Her brother had gone away to youth camp in the seventh grade and returned a different kid. Their parents had seemed so pleased with the changes—and they were good ones, she couldn’t deny that. But somehow, she’d felt left out. She kept thinking the
spiritual high would wear off, but it never did. From that point on, Michael had been almost too good to be true. Devoted to God, obedient to their parents, kind to everyone.
Yeah, and look what happened to him.
Was that what God did to His devoted followers?
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Madison realized she’d been staring and looked away. “Sorry I interrupted your class tonight. I didn’t know who else to call.”
He turned onto her street. “As I said, it was pretty much over. Besides, it’s not every night I get to rescue a damsel in distress.” He flashed her a half grin.
“Believe it or not, I’m usually pretty self-sufficient.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a McKinley.”
“Yeah, Mom drilled that into us all. Especially us girls.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
He pulled into her drive and got out. Having him walk her to the door seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Her mind turned back to the week before, and anticipation made her heart race. Should she ask him in?
A cricket chirped from somewhere in the shrubs, and the fragrance of freshly cut grass scented the air. Up on the porch, she opened the door and flipped on the porch light. Lulu accepted a greeting, then rushed out onto the lawn.
The light fell around them like a golden blanket. She turned to ask him in, but he spoke first.
“Can I ask you something?”
She crossed her arms against the chill in the air. “Sure.”
“I’ve been reluctant to bring it up . . . Have you heard from Jade?”
Madison wondered if he missed Jade or if he was just concerned. Then she reminded herself Beckett hadn’t written those
notes. And she realized that, after all that had happened, she still didn’t know who
had
sent them.
“She called about a month ago.”
“She’s okay then.” There was no missing the relief in his voice.
“Seemed to be.”
She could tell him more. That she had a job, was staying in Chicago, but she didn’t.
His face softened in the golden light. “I should go.”
She didn’t want him to go just yet. “You could come in for a while.”
He glanced at his watch, then back at her, something like regret on his face. “I should get home. Early day tomorrow.”
She fought the wave of disappointment. “No early run on the river now.”
“You’ll have to do that with Evan on Friday. I’ll get the motor fixed, and you’ll be good to go.”
“Hope so. Thank you for tonight.” She closed the gap between them and gave him a hug. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
She felt his hands at her waist, drawing her in, welcoming the embrace.
“Anytime.” His voice was low and deep in her ear.
The shiver that went through her had nothing to do with the chill in the air. He was warm, and he smelled so good. Felt so good. The hair at his nape tickled the back of her hand. His shoulder was solid under her palm. She wondered if he could feel her heart thumping against her rib cage.
His hand moved over her back in a fleeting caress, and she arched toward him even as her knees went noodley.
Music intruded, the notes of
Seinfeld’s
theme song. Her cell phone.
Reluctantly she pulled away. “That’s probably Ryan.” Her voice was all air, no substance. “Making sure I made it back.”
“Better take it.” He was backing away already, reaching for his keys.
“Thanks again, Beckett.”
He gave her a half smile and a final wave, then she entered the house and answered the call.
But it wasn’t Ryan.
