by EMILIE ROSE
Neither were the traits of a selfish bitch. And that she’d done so even after his mother had treated her badly six years ago, and repeatedly since her return, refuted a long list of negative thoughts that Adam had held of Madison Monroe.
Who was this woman, if she wasn’t the one his brother had complained increasingly about during the last few months of his life?
“You never told me these stories before, Dad.”
“You never gave me the chance, son. You always had somewhere else to be when Andrew and I talked shop.”
Guilt and regret hit Adam hard and fast. How many other stories had he missed? Would he ever get to hear them?
His father yawned. Adam checked his watch. Almost ten o’clock. His mother had been gone four hours. Unbelievable. “Are you ready for bed yet, Dad?”
“I wanted to wait until your mother returned, but I’m not sure I’ll make it.”
Adam heard a car door slam outside. “Sounds like her now.”
The door opened and his mother breezed in. She’d had her hair done and looked much more relaxed than she had earlier. Adam jumped to his feet to help with the shopping bags draped over her arm.
She quickly pulled them out of reach. “I have them. Sorry I took so long. Time got away from me.”
Madison stood. “Not a problem, Helen. Your hair looks great.”
The comment seemed genuine.
“Oh, I... Thank you, Madison. My usual stylist wasn’t available, so I tried a new one at the mall. I think I like this color better.”
“It’s more flattering to your complexion. Need help putting anything away before we go?” Madison asked.
She shook her head. “Danny, I can’t believe you’re still awake.”
“Good company.”
“Dad, I’ll be taking Madison straight to the airport from work tomorrow so you can rest.”
His father opened his mouth to protest, then nodded. “That’s probably for the best. Gonna miss you, Maddie. Until next week. Sunday dinner again?”
“I can do that.” Madison helped Danny to his feet and then hugged him. The expression on Adam’s father’s face and the way he held on longer than normal said it all. He didn’t want to let Madison go—not now or at the end of the two months.
His father was in for a big disappointment.
Adam followed Madison out to the car and waited until they were on the road before asking the question burning inside him. “Why are you being nice to my mother after the way she’s treated you?”
He caught a glimpse of Madison’s tense, pale face in an oncoming car’s headlights. “Because she’s going through hell and scared to death. She has no idea what her future holds or if she can handle it.” She scratched a spot on her scrub pants. “I’ve been there, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
That was the last thing he’d expected from her. Maybe, just maybe, Madison wouldn’t let them down after all.
* * *
MADISON CLOSED THE last chart of the day and put it in the box for Danny to review. In a matter of hours she’d be home and she could mark one more week’s obligation off her list. Four down. Four to go.
“Madison,” Adam’s voice echoed down the empty hall. The staff had cleared out twenty minutes ago. Dread, combined with the same old reaction she was now coming to expect, rolled through her. Quickening heartbeat. Shortness of breath. Dampening palms.
“Back here.” She rose from Danny’s desk as Adam reached the office. The worry on his face did not bode well. “What’s wrong? Is Danny okay?”
“He’s as well as could be expected after this morning’s chemo but, according to Mom, definitely not up for company. It’s good that he wasn’t counting on us tonight. We have a bigger problem. There’s a storm front heading this way. We might have to postpone our flight until morning.”
An evening alone with Adam? No way. She couldn’t risk it. Not after last night. They’d spent their time working together to convince Danny to eat, then kept him entertained with the worst jokes she’d ever heard. Watching Adam with his father, hearing the respect in his voice and the intelligence in his answers, she’d found more reasons to like him. Reasons that had nothing to do with him looking like her dead husband and everything to do with her actually liking the man, his character, his devotion to his parents and his quick wit.
“No, I need to go back tonight. I have my spay-and-neuter clinic tomorrow.”
“What’s that?”
“On the first Wednesday of even-numbered months I neuter pets at my costs. I have surgeries booked solid all day. People have already taken off work to bring their animals in. I can’t reschedule.”
“Someone needs to teach you about running a business. You’re losing by giving your services at cost. You should charge more and make a profit. That’s capitalism.”
“The lower price gets more customers in the door. I’d rather not make a profit neutering than make a profit euthanizing strays. That’s compassion.”
He shook his head. “Making a profit would allow you to be more compassionate more often.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped the words by holding up a hand. “Save it. Flying into this storm tonight will be rough—far rougher than our last turbulent flight.”
Given how she’d worried about him last time, maybe she’d better find another way to get home. “If you get me a rental car I’ll get myself home.”
“You’d be safer flying above it than driving through it. I’ll take you.”
“Are you sure?”
“The plane was built to withstand it.”
“Can you, as a pilot, handle the turbulence?”
His blue-green gaze held hers. “I have my instrument rating, and I’ve flown in worse. I don’t like it, but I can do it.”
His confidence was mildly comforting. “Then I can I handle it, too. Let’s go.”
She hoped she didn’t live to regret her decision.
* * *
ADAM SHUT DOWN the engine, peeled off his headset and sagged back in his seat, letting his muscles unkink one by one. Those last fifteen minutes had been the biggest test of his skills to date. They’d completed half the flight before hitting the storm. The wind shear had been unpredictable, and visibility had been near zero. And yes, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d been scared a couple times.
He glanced at his passenger. Madison’s color had improved since they’d touched down. During the flight, lightning flashes illuminating the cockpit had revealed a ghostly pallor and her white-knuckled grip on the armrests. But she hadn’t complained.
“You okay?”
She swept back her hair and blew out a slow breath through pursed lips. “Yes. But I’m glad to be on the ground.”
He gave her kudos for courage and honesty. A gust rocked the craft on the tarmac. He needed to tie this baby down. “Me, too.”
“Will you text me when you land this time?”
He shook his head. He’d had all the adrenaline he could handle for the night. “I’m not flying back in this.”
Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, her indecision clear in her eyes even in the dim airport lighting. “I have a guest room. You— You’re welcome to it.”
He hesitated. She didn’t want his company. “If you’ll drop me at the closest hotel, I’ll get a taxi back in the morning.”
Her quiet laugh caressed his ears. “You’re in farm country, Adam. The motels here are few and far between and not to your standards. And taxis... Let’s just say you can’t depend on those out here.”
“Then I’ll sleep in the terminal.”
“There’s not a sofa in the place. Only chairs. It may not even be unlocked. I’ll bring you back in the morning.”
A tough decision. He still hadn’t rationalized or forgiven himself for that ki
ss. But he’d learned his lesson. They were both adults with enough sense not to act on the chemistry between them again. “Then I guess I’ll take that guest room.”
Even though the rain beat down on them, Madison helped him secure the plane, garnering even more respect from him. When they finished he gathered her things. The building was indeed locked. They hustled around it to the truck waiting on the opposite side.
Andrew’s truck. He’d ridden in it before, but not with Madison. He climbed into the passenger seat and immediately her scent surrounded him. For some reason he’d expected remnants of Andrew’s overpriced cologne. But his brother had been gone six years. Sometimes it felt like six days, other times six decades.
It took Madison a couple tries to get the motor to catch. When it did, she patted the dash as if she were praising a good dog.
“You need to get that fixed.”
“I will.”
He closed his mouth and let her focus on navigating through the blinding rain. It was only nine, but thick clouds had obscured any trace of moonlight, and the countryside lacked streetlights. To say it was dark was an understatement. Inching along well below the posted speed, she didn’t drive like a woman who was careless of the weather or road conditions. The twenty minutes that passed before she turned off the winding two-lane road and into her driveway felt more like an hour.
The last time he’d come to her house he’d been too angry to be interested in the scenery. The small white farmhouse was set back from the street. The distance seemed farther in the dark. The wet oak trees hung heavily over the gravel path, almost forming a tunnel. Branches occasionally twanged on the antennae and brushed the roof, then a ping hit the roof and he startled.
“It’s okay. Probably an acorn or a pecan.”
She passed the house. The headlights picked out a two-story barn with sheds attached to either side. The right side had no doors. She drove into that opening. Her high beams revealed pet crates lining the back wall. He climbed from the vehicle and watched as she checked the cages, then nodded. “That’s a relief. No guests.”
“Guests?”
“I offer a safe-surrender program here. People can drop off unwanted pets or strays they’ve picked up here or at my office. No questions asked. It’s the same program your father has.”
“Does that happen often?”
“More often than I like and yet not often enough. Most folks just dump their animals along a country road.” She shouldered her overnight bag. “We can leave the cooler here till morning.” She stopped at the edge of the shelter, scanning the backyard as if searching for something. Rain streamed down just inches from her toes. Jagged lightning split the sky in the distance.
“Ready to make a run for it?” And then she was gone, sprinting and splashing her way across the grass, zigzagging around puddles and finally onto her screened-in porch.
He dashed into the downpour after her. She held open the door. The porch light revealed her hair clinging to her scalp and her clothing to her torso, delineating curves he’d rather not think about. His heart pounded harder—not from the short run. Rain beat down on the metal roof, almost drowning out the sound.
She opened her back door without a key. “You don’t lock your doors?”
“No need to.”
Worry for her safety seized him. “You’ve established a pattern of being out of town Sunday to Tuesday. You should lock your house, Madison.”
She flipped on the overhead light. “There’s nothing here worth stealing, and if there was, the tenant who lives in that house—” she pointed into the nothingness of the yard “—is a deputy. Anybody who dares to look for trouble will have to deal with her. June may look like a bubbly blonde, but she kicks butt. And Piper, my veterinary assistant, is married to the chief of police. People aren’t going to mess with me.”
“Locals won’t.”
“City boy.” The affection and humor in her voice almost made him smile. “Out-of-towners are spotted and tracked the moment they come into town. But thanks for your concern.”
Her kitchen was small, cozy, clean. The maple dinette set was probably older than him, but it gleamed from a recent polish, as did the wide-planked hardwood floor. The table had only one place mat. She ate alone.
The floorboards creaked as he followed her toward the front of the house and through an equally lived-in den and a small foyer that turned into a center hall. The place reminded him of his grandparents’ house. Both had died when he was young. He hadn’t thought of their old farm in decades. He used to love visiting them, and he and Andrew had spent hours exploring the attic and outbuildings.
“Here’s the guest room. It’s not much compared to yours, but the linens are clean. There’s only one bathroom. It’s off the center hall. I keep spare toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap and stuff in the cabinet with the towels. Help yourself to whatever you need. You can use the washer and dryer if you want.”
The whitewashed double bed looked as old as the kitchen table but in good repair. Ditto the dresser and side table. The quilt, a combination of perpendicular lines that made up blue-and-white squares around a red center, looked hand stitched.
“This is nothing like the home you and Andrew had.” He liked it better. It was comfortable, the kind of place you could relax.
“I’ve told you before, Andrew chose that house and all the furnishings.”
“Without your input?”
“Yes. He wanted a showplace. He got one. Good night, Adam.”
“You didn’t like the house?”
She hesitated, then huffed out a breath. “It was like living in a model home or a museum. I was afraid to touch anything or that I might spill something on the white carpets. I never felt at home there.” She pivoted and snatched a raincoat off a hook by the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“To check on my critters.”
“In this?” Thunder cracked and rumbled.
“I’ve been gone three days.”
“Didn’t you have someone looking after them?”
“Yes. But—I just need to check on them, okay?”
“Have an extra one of those?” He nodded toward her slicker.
Another pause. And then without a word she traveled down a narrow hall to the back of the house. He followed. They passed the bathroom, then he spotted her bedroom through the open door on his left. A brass bed covered in a quilt patterned in giant flowers with petals of different fabrics took up most of the floor space. The decor was feminine without being fussy.
She opened a closet and offered him a yellow slicker. “The farm used to belong to June’s grandfather. This was probably Dr. Jones’s.”
“He left his clothes behind?”
“He passed away. June sold the farm. I bought it and his practice as is with contents. It was easier than trying to find furniture I could afford.”
“You could have afforded whatever you wanted if you’d kept your share of Andrew’s estate.”
“I didn’t want... I needed a fresh start.”
If she’d wanted to forget her marriage, then why had she kept Andrew’s truck? It had to be more than not wanting payments, because six years ago she could have sold Andrew’s vehicle for enough money to buy something else.
“You sure want to go out in this, Adam? It’s really not necessary for you to get wet again. I can handle it.”
He shrugged into the raincoat. Somebody needed to keep an eye on her. “Dad will want a full report on your ‘critters.’”
They raced back to the barn, getting drenched before Madison could shove back the heavy door to the center section. He helped her slide it closed. She flipped on a dim overhead light. He turned and spotted the identifying black-and-white stripes of a skunk and froze. He knew enough about skunks from camping to want to avoid upsetting the ani
mal.
She went straight for the skunk, opening a cage he hadn’t registered in his shock over seeing the animal. The habitat was massive with multiple levels, tunnels and climbing things. “Hey, Buster.”
She scratched under his chin and stroked his back, then scooped up the creature and nuzzled him. She glanced over her shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s been de-scented.”
“Madison, why do you have a skunk?”
“Because once his owners got over the novelty of having him they decided he was too much trouble. They were going to set him free, but he’s too domesticated to survive in the wild. He would’ve been coyote food in no time. I haven’t been able to find him a new family yet. Skunks are too mischievous for most people. They steal things and sometimes tear up stuff while searching for entertainment. Kind of like ferrets.”
He had no experience with ferrets, either, but before he could ask her to elaborate a shrill whistle pierced his ears, startling him and drawing his attention to a smaller cage and a shaggy-haired guinea pig. “That’s Wilbur. His treats are in the bin behind you.”
Adam hesitated, not because he was afraid, but because he also had no experience with guinea pigs.
“Andrew and I never had pets. Dad wouldn’t allow it. I got around his edict by volunteering to take care of classroom pets during school vacations. Hamsters, gerbils, turtles. A rabbit once. My teachers liked the idea of sending the animals home with a veterinarian’s kid.”
He hadn’t thought about that in years. “But Andrew was never one to be outdone. He convinced Dad to let him work at the office during our days off. I guess he was smarter than me. He got paid.”
Her sad smile reached across the top of the cage. “Making money doesn’t make you smarter. Loving what you do is its own reward.”
Wilbur squealed.
“He won’t stop whistling until he gets some attention. He doesn’t bite, and if you scratch his back he’ll be your friend for life.”
Adam dug out a treat, opened the door and offered it to the black-and-white hairball. It nuzzled his hand. Adam scratched as directed and was awarded with a chortle of approval. The moment Adam stopped the critter scuttled to the other side of his cage to try to get Madison’s attention.
