What Madeline Wants

by Linda Style

  Wearing a pair of skimpy jogging shorts and some kind of stretchy top that exposed her stomach, her figure was better than he’d imagined. Though she was petite, her legs were shapely and solid. Her skin was smooth and covered with a light sheen of sweat. He took a step out the door, when pain stabbed in his knee. “Damn. Son of a—”

  Maddy swung around. “Good morning to you, too.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “I woke early and decided to get some exercise while it was still cool. I couldn’t get back in without a key.” She smiled cheerily. Would you like me to make some coffee?” she asked almost in the same breath.

  Rivera grunted a response, then limped off toward the kitchen.

  “I guess that means no,” Maddy said to his back, not willing to let him ruin her good mood. “So, I’ll just hie myself off to wash up, then.”

  In her room, she slipped off her shoes and socks, then turned on the shower, anxious to get some cool water on her sticky skin. Just as she grabbed the bottom of her shirt to pull it up over her head, she heard a crash, loud cursing, then a thump, thump, thump and a heavy thud. She dropped the shirt and dashed toward the kitchen.

  Rivera had looked a little peaked when he’d answered the door. Maybe he’d passed out or something? Hurrying around the corner, she skidded into the kitchen, felt something wet underfoot and lost her balance. Tumbling headfirst into the room, she landed with a splat on the floor—in a puddle of—she lifted her head. Coffee grounds and eggshells. Rivera was sprawled out on the floor next to her, facedown, and he was as still as a corpse.

  Seeing only the back of his head, she reached around and placed her fingertips close to his mouth. Hot breath. Good. He wasn’t dead.

  Quickly, she leaned over his back to see if he was unconscious, but as she did, he rolled toward her, bringing them face-to-face, nose-to-nose, close enough to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Or a kiss.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, suddenly a little breathless.

  He glared at her.

  She pushed off his chest and sat up. “I’m going to assume that means, ‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.’”

  No response. But he sat up next to her.

  Instinctively, Maddy got to her feet and extended a hand. “Here, let me help.”

  A muscle twitched high in his cheek, and if looks were bullets, she’d be dead.

  “I don’t need help.”

  She retracted her hand. “Everyone needs help once in a while. Whether they want it or not is another thing.” She brushed the coffee grounds from her thighs and reached for the roll of paper towels on the counter, trying not to watch as Rivera struggled to his feet.

  His physical condition bothered him, that was obvious. But something more seemed to be going on inside him, something insidious that affected a lot more than just his body.

  She knew what that was like. Her own fears had sapped the life right out of her, filled her with self-doubt and rendered her helpless.

  After the assault at Georgetown she couldn’t stay alone, she couldn’t even go outside. Her parents had come to be with her so she could finish her program, and then she’d returned with them to Epiphany. After that, every time she started feeling that life was getting back to normal, something would set her back.

  The outside door slammed, and within a few seconds Juana barreled in. Seeing the mess, she let out a string of Spanish phrases, ending with, “Qué pasa? Madre de Dios!” which, loosely translated, meant Holy-Mary-Mother-of-God! What has happened here?

  “I slipped and fell,” Maddy said. Juana snatched the towels from Maddy’s fingers and started cleaning. She hoped Juana wouldn’t ask for details, because it was obvious by the way J.D. held on to the door frame that he was in pain—and he wasn’t about to admit it.

  “It’s a mess, I know. Here—” Maddy bent down to pick up the coffeepot. “I’ll clean up the mess,” she said to Juana. “No reason you should do it.”

  Juana shot Maddy a look that could’ve wilted an Iowa cornfield. She plucked the coffeepot from Maddy’s hands and shooed both her and J.D. out of the kitchen.

  “I’ll make more coffee,” Juana said with authority.

  J.D. left first and Maddy followed. He was waiting in the hallway for her when she came out, his eyes flashing. When she reached his side, he said in a low controlled growl, “Don’t ever do that again.”

  Maddy felt as if she were a child standing in front of her father during one of his ruthless scoldings. But she was no longer that insecure little girl.

  Confrontation wasn’t her best suit, but she raised her chin, anyway. “Don’t do what? I told her I fell, and that was the truth.” Think it. Feel it. Believe it.

  Hands clenched at his sides, Rivera’s lips thinned, his anger coming at her in waves. “Don’t patronize me.”

  She took a deep breath. “I was offering to help.”

  “When I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”

  “No you won’t. You’d die first.”

  He showed a brief flash of surprise at the comment, and then just as quickly he turned and hobbled down the hall.

  She didn’t know what demons warred within this man, but her heart went out to him. He hated himself. But for what, she didn’t know.

  What she did know was that whether the reason was real or imagined, the pain was the same.

  And she knew right then that she was going to do whatever she could to help him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LATER, after a silent breakfast, Rivera handed Maddy a long piece of paper.

  The dog list.

  Her breakfast literally flipped over in her stomach. Dammit. She’d thought she’d resolved her qualms while she was out running. She’d gone through all the sessions with her therapist in her head, reassuring herself that the only way to conquer her fear was to face it.

  The approach had sounded logical and possible in her mind. But the reality was—she still felt queasy.

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of it,” she managed to say.

  He frowned, the look on his face saying he’d reserve opinion on that. “Good,” he said. “If you have any questions, I’ll be outside.”

  Maddy couldn’t move.

  When he was gone, Juana said, “He has troubles.”

  She let out a long breath. “No kidding.” She stared at the list. And so do I.

  “It’ll be easy,” Juana said. “Just make sure the water tank is full, because it automatically flows into the bowl to keep it fresh and at a certain level. The food is kept in the cooler, so you only need to fill the dish once a day.”

  She could do that. Nothing to it, really. She took a breath.

  “Oh, and you need to check later at night to make sure she ate her food. She’s a finicky eater.”

  There was a lot more on the list than just feeding the dog. Bathing, brushing, giving her vitamins, clipping her nails… But right now, she only had to feed Zelda, no reason to think about the rest. Focus on the goal.

  After dawdling over her coffee for as long as she possibly could, Maddy went to the back door and peered out.

  The doghouse loomed. Somehow it looked large and forbidding.

  As Maddy watched the house, Zelda came prancing out, haughty, head held high. She stopped, turned and stared right at Maddy.

  And then suddenly the dog seemed to grow. Maddy blinked, but the animal kept getting larger and larger in her eyes until it looked like one of those giant floats in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.

  Zelda barked.

  Maddy’s heart skipped a beat. Her lips felt numb and she couldn’t move.

  Zelda barked again, and like the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers, brought Maddy around. She blinked again and Zelda was her normal size, her mop of a tail motoring back and forth.

  A friendly sign—right? With fear in her heart, and feet that felt like battleships, Maddy took a huge breath, then forced herself to move forward. She descended the stairs like an automaton, and every st
ep she took toward the kennel boomed like thunder in her ears.

  Think it. You can do this, Maddy. Yes, you can.

  Feel it. She filled her lungs with air, squared her shoulders and kept walking.

  Believe it. She still wasn’t sure about that part. How could she believe she could do it when she knew she was falling to pieces inside?

  Fake it. She’d done that more times than she could remember. And if she faked it long enough, maybe she could believe it.

  Clearing her head, Maddy focused on the topiary tree at the other end of the compound. Once she reached the fence, she leaned to unlatch the gate and then, with sweat streaming from every pore and cold stark terror crawling up her spine, she slipped inside.

  Carlos appeared from nowhere, and Maddy jumped like a toad. Though he’d scared the bejeebies out of her, he wasn’t close enough to see her fear. She forced a smile. How much confidence would he have in a teacher who was afraid of a tiny dog?

  Trying her best to look casual, she took a few steps toward the small shed where Juana had said they kept the dog’s food.

  “Close the gate, Señorita Inglewood,” Carlos called to her in spanish. “You don’t want the dog to run away.”

  She stopped abruptly, whirled around and saw the dog heading toward freedom. Oh God. She lurched forward, but her body seemed to move in slow motion. She’d never make it before the dog got out. J.D. would be furious, but even worse, he’d know she was a failure.

  Carlos whistled and called the dog, Zelda stopped and looked at the gardener, who was waving a dog biscuit in the air. Come on, Zelda, Maddy urged silently. Choose food over freedom. When the dog circled around and sped toward Carlos, Maddy gave a long sigh of relief and hurried to close the gate.

  Then she directed her focus to the water dish—because she absolutely couldn’t allow herself to think about the dog who was at this moment prancing toward her. Zombielike, Maddy moved forward, acutely aware that the animal was now hovering somewhere in the vicinity of her ankles. At the tank, she inspected the lever to make sure it was working and that there was water in the bowl, then went to the cooler and dumped food into the dog’s china dish.

  Sweat rolled down her face and arms and from every pore in her body. Grinding her teeth, she started to walk back toward the gate, safety was within reach—until the dog scurried around and sat in front of her.

  Maddy froze.

  “She likes you,” Carlos called out.

  His voice sounded far away.

  “She doesn’t like very many people.”

  Oh, lucky me. Still unable to move, Maddy gave Carlos a wan smile, and then stole a look at the dog. “Nice doggy,” she whispered. “Now go eat. Chomp, chomp, chomp.”

  Zelda’s right ear perked up.

  “Chomp, chomp,” Maddy repeated and waved a hand toward the food.

  Almost as if she understood, Zelda scurried to her bowl. Maddy practically flew out the gate, up the stairs and back into the house—right into Rivera.

  “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry,” she sputtered. Damn. She’d probably stepped on his foot or smacked his injured leg. “I…just realized I had to make a phone call,” she lied and glanced at her watch. “And I was in a hurry, but gosh, I hope I didn’t hurt anything or—”

  He smiled. “It’d take a lot more than a bump from someone your size to do me in.” Then, as if he might’ve been too friendly, he frowned. “I’m fine. Go make your call.”

  Later that morning, still amazed that her boss had actually been civil to her, and exceedingly proud of her small accomplishment with Zelda, Maddy stood in the middle of the old bunkhouse surveying the large rectangular room.

  Sepia-toned sunlight filtered in through thin spaces between the weathered slats of wood, creating an eerie, almost romantic feel about the place.

  A dozen or so rusty bedsprings were propped on their sides against one wall, empty boxes, old boards, screens and other debris lay in piles about the room. Yes, this room—once it was cleaned up, of course—might work. With only two students, Maddy didn’t need a whole lot of room, just space enough to set up a table or two and some chairs. Electricity, or light of some type, would be nice, as would an easel or a chalkboard.

  Rivera had said he had neither the time nor the inclination to do anything for her, so she’d have to improvise with whatever resources she could find. Ms. Devereaux had given her the go-ahead on the supplies and had authorized Harold Martin to add that amount to Maddy’s advance. So, before she’d left Iowa, she’d purchased the necessary materials and had brought them along. And now she had her classroom.

  Even though she’d secured this job through Mr. Martin, she’d sought it out on her own, and it was the first real job that she’d gotten without her father’s assistance. Even Fred Johnson, who ran the video store in Epiphany, had only hired her because her father owned the building he rented. Like everyone else in the small town, Fred sucked up to her father every chance he could.

  She heard a noise behind her and turned. Carlos had come in. “What time will we start the lessons?” His eagerness was evident in his tone and the sparkle in his dark eyes.

  “Tonight at seven o’clock,” Maddy answered in Spanish. She’d asked Juana if they could eat at a regular time each night, 5:30 p.m. “We really don’t need to do much, just create a work space and get some light.”

  Carlos nodded and smiled. Both her students were about the same age, Maddy guessed, mid-forties perhaps, and both, she’d learned, were unmarried.

  Maddy wondered how they’d secured their jobs in the first place, but didn’t ask. Juana had already gone home to prepare dinner, and Carlos also had work to do.

  There would be time to get better acquainted once she got the classes set up and they settled into a routine.

  While she knew little about her new students, she knew even less about her employer. Juana had told her that Rivera had come from Reno, Nevada, and that he’d lived on the ranch as a child. She knew about his crazy aunt who’d willed him the ranch, that he’d had an injury that caused him to leave his job, and that he’d been robbed and beaten up a few nights ago. She wanted to know more about him, but the man wasn’t talking. He was a mystery—an intriguing one.

  “Carlos, do you know when Mr. Rivera will be back?” she asked, wiping a dusty hand across her shorts. The jogging shorts and top were the only clothes she had that she wouldn’t swelter in.

  “Soon,” Carlos said. “He should be back at any time. I hope they received the supplies he ordered.”

  She wished she’d known J.D. was going into town because she’d have gone along and bought other clothes to wear. “Did he order something exotic that they might not have?” Maddy conversed in Carlos’s native language—and would continue to do so with both her students until they learned some English.

  “Just building supplies. But nothing has come in yet. I’m going to ask if I can help him,” Carlos added proudly. “I’d like to learn carpentry work.”

  “Great.” But from the response she’d received, Rivera didn’t have time for anyone. She spun around. “Is Mr. Rivera a carpenter?”

  Carlos nodded. “Sí. He’s very good.”

  “Where did he learn that?”

  The man shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

  “Well, I hope you’re as excited about learning English.” She smiled at him, feeling a sense of excitement herself.

  “Yes. Very much. If I learn English, I’ll be able to get an even better job.”

  Her mind back on fixing up her classroom, she asked, “Carlos, do you know if there’s an electrical connection for this building?”

  The main electricity, she’d learned earlier, was provided from the town, which, like California, got its power supply from the Colorado River. But Tripplehorne also had a generator. Carlos had said most of the ranchers in the area had one in case a storm or high winds took out the city power.

  She’d also learned that dust storms—with hurricane-like winds—and heavy rain, were typical during th
e monsoon, which was usually in August.

  “I can fix it,” Carlos said. “There’s also a water supply for the main house and for the dog, so it would be easy to make a connection come off that and bring it here, too.”

  Maddy stood in the center of the room, surveying what to do first. “Wonderful. But first things first. We need light of some kind and tables and chairs. If we have those, we can get started.”

  He pointed to a closet in the corner. “Lots of junk is piled up in there,” he said. “Chairs, too. Should I look for you?”

  “No, I’ll do it, thank you.”

  “Then,” he said, “I’ll go finish my work.”

  “Oh, right. I’m sorry I kept you away for so long. You go, and I’ll see you later tonight.”

  After Carlos left, Maddy clicked on the portable CD player she’d brought along, and listening to The Ring Sessions, her favorite Celtic music, she started clearing out a space in one corner of the room.

  Above the bedsprings lined against the east wall, some photos, yellowed with age, had been tacked up, and on the shelves were old newspapers, a rusty straight-edged razor and a few other personal items, apparently left by the people who must’ve worked at the ranch at one time. She read a couple of news clippings and tried to imagine what it had been like to live here fifty years ago.

  Before Maddy knew it, an hour had passed, and one whole section of the room was ready for use. She’d even pulled out the weeds that had grown right through the cracks in the concrete floor. Dust lodged in her nose, causing her to sneeze several times. She was hot, sweaty and covered with dirt—but she felt absolutely wonderful.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so energized.

  As she stood in the middle of the room, she decided to look for the chairs Carlos had mentioned. A rusty lock held the door to the closet shut, but it fell to the floor when she touched it.

  She gave the door a yank and stared at the pile of rubbish inside. What a mess.

  After pulling out an old harness, some ranch equipment she didn’t recognize and a metal tractor seat, she freed up what appeared to be a chair and pulled it out. She saw another and pulled it out, too.