What Madeline Wants

by Linda Style

  Out of breath and feeling warm and loved, she held him in her arms, tightly, securely. She wanted to stay like this forever.

  The thought was like a brilliant white light, a realization that she didn’t care about going to New York, she didn’t care about the new job or her family in Epiphany—all she cared about was J.D.

  Sleepy and sated and very content, she snuggled closer, her head on his shoulder and her hand on his heart. She loved him.

  J.D. AWOKE WITH A WOMAN in his bed. That hadn’t happened for nearly two years. The fact that it was Maddy made it even more ironic. She was the last person he’d have pictured himself with, and yet, here they were.

  He looked down at her, angelic in sleep. He’d meant it when he told her she affected him in many ways. She’d had a monumental effect on him—on his emotions—and he didn’t know what to do about it. But then, maybe he didn’t have to do anything. She was the one who was leaving. She was the one off to the big city for adventure and excitement.

  Her head rested against his shoulder as when they’d fallen asleep. He’d slept better in the last few hours with her in his arms than he had in years. He’d had no dreams. No nightmares. Just sweet blissful sleep, and something to remember when she was gone.

  He glanced at his watch. Grady would be there in ten minutes. He slipped out of bed, taking care to draw the sheet up over Maddy as he did.

  Quickly, he showered, shaved and made a pot of coffee. It was Sunday and his crew—Carlos, the two carpenters and three other men he’d hired—wouldn’t be coming today. When they worked on the weekends, he paid them overtime and right now, with the truck to fix, he didn’t know whether he could afford to pay them extra. A portion of the trust money was supposed to come through this week sometime, but J.D. wouldn’t count on it until he had it in the bank.

  He took his coffee outside to the deck to wait for Grady. They’d have to order glass for the windows on the truck, and that would take a while, but as long as he could get the tires and make sure it was safe to drive, he’d have wheels.

  Grady careened around the corner, then came to a stop. He got out, a manila envelope in his hands.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s for Maddy from Annie. Some Internet research stuff they’re doing.”

  “For what?”

  Grady shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Something for the ladies’ group, I imagine. Open it and see.”

  J.D. shook his head. “No. If she’d wanted me to know she’d have told me.”

  Grady nodded. “Well, if you don’t mind driving without glass in the windows, I think we can have the truck up and running in a few hours.”

  “Great. Just let me know how much I owe you, okay?”

  “Sure.” J.D. brought the envelope into the kitchen and placed it on the table for Maddy, poured some more coffee and headed out with Grady.

  BLISS. The last week had been absolute bliss, Maddy decided while riding with Annie back to the ranch after their meeting with the Los Rios Ladies late Saturday afternoon.

  Her days had been filled with work and the nights with lovemaking. Neither she nor J.D. talked about her leaving. It was as if they had an unspoken agreement to enjoy what time they had together and not spoil it with talk of the future.

  Her class had expanded even more after J.D. told his new hires that part of the deal was that they took Maddy’s English classes.

  During the week, she’d finished cleaning the fireplace in the kitchen and had only a few stones to replace and a few more to recement. J.D. had given her permission to contract people to finish the work, replace the old flooring, paint and paper the walls.

  The truck had been fixed and they’d both talked to Harold Martin. Maddy learned that he had sent her a letter about her employer’s death, explaining that it didn’t change anything, the contract was still in effect and she still had the job. She’d never received the letter, though he said he’d sent it certified to her parents’ home. She was glad. If she’d received it early on, she might not have come.

  J.D. had also learned from Mr. Martin that the trust money was in place and he could go ahead with the major reconstruction. And apparently, his aunt had left him a letter—to be opened once he’d fulfilled the stipulations in the will.

  During the week, Maddy and Annie had also gotten information from the Internet regarding laws that regulate migrant workers’ pay and housing, and Maddy discovered that the town could apply for a grant to hire someone to teach the workers English on a permanent basis. Maddy and Annie were excited and had brought the information to the Los Rios Ladies’ meeting that morning hoping to convince them to take on the project to help the people of the colonias.

  Most of the members knew about the housing conditions, but not the fact that medical assistance wasn’t being provided.

  They’d assumed the corporation that ran most of the local ranches and hired the workers took care of all that for the employees. But according to Maddy and Annie’s research, the La Mancha Corporation had no benefits plan.

  Maddy arrived home at dinnertime, energized and ready to work. When they drove up, J.D. was sitting on the steps taking a break. Maddy waved goodbye to Annie, walked over to J.D. and sat down beside him.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “They just left.”

  “So, how’s everything coming?”

  “Good.” He nodded. “I’m actually starting to believe we might finish in time.” His excitement shone in his eyes.

  “Wow, that’s great.” She felt excited herself, happy to be part of it. “I have some good news, too.”

  He turned to her, his expression suddenly somber. He cleared his throat. “You hear about the new job?”

  “No, silly.” She tapped his arm. “Annie and I presented our project to the women’s group today, and it looks really positive. I think they’re interested, but we won’t know until after the board meeting next week.”

  He looked relieved. “So, what’s the project? Another festival?”

  She shook her head. “It’s what we talked about before—the project to force those who hire immigrants to comply with the laws regarding migrant pay and housing. We also asked the ladies’ group to talk to the city planners about hiring a permanent teacher to help the workers learn English and finding a place to hold the classes.”

  As she was talking, his eyes got dark, stress lines formed around his mouth. She stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  She pulled back. “Of course. I’m trying to help people. You said earlier that no one would be interested, but they are. I thought you’d be happy to hear that.”

  “Never mind that you’re going to leave in a few weeks.”

  “The other people will still be here. If this gets off the ground, it’ll be wonderful for all the workers. The project might even revitalize the town.”

  He blinked, shaking his head as if it was pointless to say any more.

  “The migrant labor force is vitally important to the town’s commerce and should be treated as an asset. What would happen if they all packed up and left?”

  “More would come.”

  “But you can’t just ignore the situation.”

  “I’m not. But I know the people who run this town don’t take kindly to others horning in. You should know that after last weekend.”

  “You mean the incident with the sheriff and Mariela?”

  He nodded. “That’s part of it.”

  “What else? The only other thing that happened was the tru—”

  He nodded again.

  “I can’t imagine they’d be involved in something like that. It’s absurd.”

  “Is it? You think it’s just a coincidence that the Big Three were having a discussion right before the sheriff decided to check out Mariela’s work permit?”

  “I thought it was just a formality. And she got upset about it and that’s what caused a ruckus.”


  “Nothing is a matter of formality in Los Rios. This town runs on Charlie Masterson’s nickel, including the La Mancha Corporation that owns the land. And I can tell you right now, Charlie isn’t going to like anyone even suggesting changes for his employees.”

  She swallowed. “But someone has to do something.”

  “Maybe there are people doing things you’re not aware of.”

  “Like who? Name someone. You could do something, but all you care about is your ranch.”

  “That’s all I can afford to care about right now.”

  “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. But I don’t think you should put down those who want to do what they can.”

  His hands suddenly curled into fists and he launched to his feet. “Dammit, Maddy. I’m not putting anyone down. But I learned a long time ago that what a person wants and what he gets are two different things. In your cozy little cocoon of a world people might get everything they want, but real life isn’t like that. And it isn’t fair for you to build up others’ hopes and dreams, because when you leave everything will fall apart.”

  “Others will carry on.”

  “Are you sure? This isn’t their project, it’s yours, and do you think anyone else is going to oppose the powers that be, after you’re gone? Don’t forget, they still have to live here. Despite good intentions, people fall short of their promises.”

  “So we should all sit back and watch those who need assistance sink or swim?”

  “Some people work in their own quiet way to make changes. And sometimes that’s a more permanent solution.”

  Reeling from everything he’d said, Maddy felt as if she’d been punched. “I’m going in now.” She got up and went to her room.

  Was he right? She had been sheltered, and she had been given everything she wanted. She’d had two bad experiences and had let those two things color her whole life. She’d gone into hiding because of them—and stayed there for four years. Survivor’s guilt and post-traumatic stress disorder, her doctors had said.

  But she’d never experienced anything like what the migrant workers lived with every day. When she’d left Epiphany, her main goal had been to find a fulfilling career and add some excitement to her life.

  Selfish. Truly selfish.

  Depressed, she felt even worse when her mother called to say she needed Maddy. The family needed her. Maddy felt ungrateful and even more selfish. She sighed and flopped across the bed.

  Maybe she would be better off just going back to Epiphany.

  J.D. SHOVED BACK the chair after eating dinner alone while Maddy sulked in her room. Her usual MO, he guessed. Well, it might work on her family but it wouldn’t work on him.

  He was right in what he’d told her. She didn’t know what she was up against, and if she kept pushing the issue, she could get hurt. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He cared about her too much.

  Still, he felt like a creep. She’d been so excited, her heart in the right place, and he’d squelched all that. When he saw her shoulders sag and the light fade from her eyes, all his protective instincts had surged to the fore. But he knew that what he’d told her was true.

  She’d leave and nothing would change. Charlie Masterson would see to that. No one was going to cut into his business, The La Mancha Ranches were the biggest and most profitable in the area. If he had to start paying minimum wage and hospitalization, he’d lose money. But even more important, old Charlie had to be in control.

  He gave a sigh and looked at the time. Seven. Sundown, and it was time to make a run.

  Outside, he backed the truck to the storage shed where he kept the supplies, got out, opened the door and began to load up.

  “Can I help, please?” a small voice said from somewhere around his waist.

  “Ben. What are you doing here? I thought you rode home with Carlos. It’s late. Do your aunt and uncle know where you are?” J.D.’s feeling for quite some time was that Ben hadn’t been truthful about his living situation. He’d suspected that the boy wasn’t staying with anyone, that he might be homeless. And if that was the case, he was probably undocumented, too. Why else would he have bolted from the truck when Maddy mentioned talking with his family.

  Orphans, homeless kids, sometimes crossed the border alone, but most came with others. Either way, the trip was brutal. “Or did they go to Mexico again?”

  Ben nodded. “Can I stay?”

  The boy’s English had improved dramatically in the past two weeks and he was becoming more conversational. “How long will they be gone?”

  He shrugged. “A long time, I think.”

  “Okay. You can sleep in the same room as before.”

  “And can I help?”

  “Sure thing. You can keep me company, too.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Here…” He tossed a sack of grain to Ben to load into the truck, his mind flashing back to his own ill-fated trek across El Camino del Diablo with his father. A nightmare.

  They continued loading, and when they’d finished, got into the truck and took off.

  MADDY AWOKE EARLY SUNDAY morning with a headache. The night before, she’d watched from her window as J.D. had loaded the truck with supplies. Benito had been helping him. She didn’t know why the child was there so late and she was puzzled about what they were doing. She’d wanted to find out but wasn’t sure what kind of reception she’d get after their discussion. And just when she’d decided to do it anyway, J.D. and Ben climbed into the vehicle and took off down the road.

  She’d lain awake for hours waiting for J.D.’s return—tossing and turning as their earlier conversation played over and over in her head. Was she really that wrong in wanting to help? Couldn’t something be done? Was it hopeless to think she could facilitate change? Exhausted, she’d finally fallen asleep.

  Now she needed an aspirin and maybe some coffee. She went to the kitchen in her nightshirt and on the way, smelled the aroma of coffee already brewing. She heard hammering outside.

  The man was relentless. Working sixteen or more hours a day, he was going to go up in flames if he didn’t slow down and get some rest. She poured a cup of coffee and walked to the kitchen door to see where he was.

  He was doing something at the gate to Zelda’s run. She watched his biceps flex and release as he worked. Handsome. Sexy. She liked to watch him work. Holding the hinge with one hand, he lifted the hammer and brought it down hard. He jumped back, yelled and bent over, clutching his hand. Maddy dropped her cup on the counter and ran out to him.

  “Let me see,” she said, falling to her knees as she reached him.

  His face was etched with pain. “I’m okay. It’s nothing.”

  “Let me see.”

  He held out his hand and blood squirted from a deep gash on the top side. He put his other hand over it to stop the flow. “Don’t move. Just hold it like that to stop the bleeding. I’ll get my first-aid kit.”

  Through his pain, he said, “You carry a first-aid kit?”

  “Yes, I do. And right now, that should make you happy.” She scrambled to her feet, hurried into the house to her room, got the kit and dashed outside again.

  He was sitting on the ground, his back against the gate. She knelt down beside him. “Have you had a recent tetanus shot?”

  “Yeah. I scraped my other arm on a rusty nail the first week I was here and had one then.”

  “Good,” she said, checking to see if the bleeding had stopped. Though it hadn’t completely, she cleaned the wound with antiseptic.

  “Ouch. That stings. You should use the stuff I used before.”

  “This is better.”

  “What? If it hurts, it’s better?”

  “No. It has more potent ingredients. Now be quiet and let me bandage you up. You might need stitches.”

  “I’ll be fine. Put the bandage on so I can finish the gate before Zelda decides to make another run for it.”

  Maddy hurried, and when she was done, J.D. went back to the gate to finish. “You’re going to do that with one hand?�
��

  “Yes, unless you want to come over here and help.”

  “Okay. But you have to promise not to pound on me, though you might feel like doing that right about now.”

  His gaze caught hers. “I feel like doing a lot of things to you, but that’s not one of them.”

  Her face flushed. Silly. They’d had sex. Plenty of it. She’d been naked and totally without modesty, and done things she’d never imagined herself doing. And now she was blushing? It didn’t make sense.

  They finished the gate, and Maddy asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Sure. I need a break.” He sat down on the back steps.

  Maddy poured him a cup and brought it outside with hers. She sat next to him. It was still early and the air was crisp and fresh and smelled almost sweet. “Mmm. That’s good,” she said after a long sip. “Did you learn to make coffee in the military?”

  “No, I actually learned watching my grandmother.” He got a nostalgic look in his eyes.

  “I bet it was a lot of fun living on the ranch back then.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I have a tendency to forget the good times, but there were lots. It all ended when they died, though, and dear Aunt Ethel shipped me off to military school in Maryland.”

  “Why didn’t she just stay here with you?”

  He gave her a sidelong look. “She hated the ranch. She hated me. Just like she hated my father.”

  “But why?”

  Drawing a breath, he said, “Well, there are two stories. The one I pieced together from listening to my grandparents was that Ethel was in love with my father and became hateful when he married my mother, her younger sister. After that, Ethel moved in with Sheriff Collier and a while later, moved to New York. She wasn’t around when I came back here to live after my parents died. But when my grandparents passed away, Ethel inherited the ranch and became my guardian. I guess her hatred for my father carried over to me, so she sent me off to military school.”

  “That’s so sad. And what’s the other version.”

  “Aunt Ethel’s version—that my father loved her and when she rejected him, he married my mother so he could take over the ranch. Ethel discovered he’d been misrepresenting profits on cattle sales he made to Charlie Masterson’s son, C.J., and had been pocketing the money. Supposedly, after Ethel called him on it, he killed C.J. to keep him from talking, and then started a fire to cover it up. That’s the story the newspaper carried—the one most people around here believe.”