Madison's Life Lessons

by Gracen Miller

  Madison flung herself across the bed and wept into her pillow, fear for the punishment Daddy would dole out and for lost experiences.

  A day of blissful rebellion…too bad it ended on a sour note.

  Life Lesson Seven

  At breakfast the next morning, Madison spooned cereal from her bowl. Not hungry, she resorted to playing with her food. She tipped the spoon and watched the milk and Cheery-M’s splatter back into the bowl. Daddy ate buttered toast, while Momma sipped on her typical morning fare of coffee. The newscaster on the television droned on and on about local events, the weather, a cat that stole neighbors on a nightly basis and…

  “In tragic news, seventeen year old local football hero, Jack Moore, has died of complications from a gunshot wound.”

  Madison whipped her head about and stared at the TV. A larger than life picture of Jack Moore was iconed in the corner of the screen next to the reporter.

  “His family reports that yesterday afternoon around four-thirty Jack and an unidentified friend went into the woods to flush out game.” It wasn’t even hunting season yet and at four-thirty in the afternoon, Jack Moore had just been dropping her off a block down the street from her house. “Officials are unsure how exactly the accident occurred, but the local football star suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen. After undergoing four hours of surgery, he died on the operating table. Jack Moore was on the fast track to a football scholarship to the University of Alabama and even higher aspirations of one day being drafted by the NFL.”

  The spoon fell from Madison’s numb fingers, binged off the edge of her cereal bowl and clattered to the table.

  “Madison!” Daddy berated, swishing his paper in half, to stare at her over the top of his bi-focals. “Watch what you’re do—” he stopped mid-sentence.

  Jack Moore was dead. She couldn’t believe it. He’d kissed her a little over twelve hours ago and now—she breathed in a hard, ragged breath—now he was dead. Had apparently died shortly after her conversation with Momma... And Momma said he’d be punished for that kiss.

  Madison shot Momma a hard glance. Momma watched her vigilantly, her coffee mug held breast high, steam misting her face. She arched a brow as if to say ‘I told ya he’d be made to pay’.

  “Such a shame. The Moores aren’t of the Christian viewpoint. Just goes to show what happens to sinners that worship fake gods,” her father said and dismissed the TV for his newspaper. “He sees to their punishment.”

  Madison sucked in a shaken breath. “That doesn’t mean he deserved to die, Daddy!” She slammed to her feet as Daddy lowered his paper once again. By his tight-lipped expression and wide eyes, she could tell he was irritated and surprised by her outburst. “Just because he wasn’t one of your pious church members doesn’t mean he deserved to die!” she screamed. “Dear God—”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Madison Grace Wescott!”

  “—what type of heartless, insensitive man says things like that?!” Daddy glared as she knocked her cereal bowl off the table. Cereal and milk spewed like it’d been spit from the bowl. The eruption was followed by shattering glass. From the corner of her eye, she caught Momma’s lopsided smile. “I’ll tell you what type of man says things like that, Daddy,” she said in a low, controlled tone. “Not a man of God.” She wasn’t so sure Momma was a woman of God either.

  Daddy wheezed in a hard breath. They stared at one another and Madison felt liberated by her outburst.

  “Take that back,” he said, his voice gruff, promising severe reprimand if she disobeyed.

  “Or what? You’ll have me on my knees, praying like always?” Not again, not ever again would she pray to her daddy’s god. Madison stamped her hands on the table, leaned forward, stared him straight in the eye and said, “Screw you and screw your God.”

  Daddy went red in the face and his mouth moved, made smacking noises, but nothing else came out. If he didn’t get his temper under control, he’d have a stroke or heart attack and she felt not the least little bit of worry.

  Madison shoved her chair back and ran from the kitchen.

  Life Lesson Eight

  Momma wielded the blusher, and dabbed it into the loose rose powder. “Be still, Madison, while I give your cheeks some color.”

  Madison tilted her head just slightly backward and gritted her teeth through the ticklish strokes of the brush. She couldn’t figure out why Momma was being so nice. As long as she could remember, Momma’s single interest had been seeing how many men she could have fawning over her at one time. She’d always been disinterested in her motherly duties, rarely acknowledging her presence, and never spending time with her. So, why the interest now? Because Jack Moore died?

  She’d insisted on taking Madison shopping for a new outfit for Jack’s funeral. They’d purchased a dark gray dress, with a V’d neckline, which fell to the middle of her thighs. Madison felt way over exposed in the garment, but her mother insisted it looked stunning on her. Not having the energy to argue, she relented to her mother’s expertise.

  Momma also bought a new dress for herself, but she was a shopaholic, any ole’ excuse would suffice to purchase something new, so no big surprise there. Momma’s skintight “noir” dress—she couldn’t call the color “black” because that color was out-of-date according to Momma— dipped low, displaying a shameful amount of cleavage. The colorless material enhanced Momma’s features to the point you’d think the color was inspired just for her.

  Momma’s niceness didn’t stop there. She’d defended Madison against Daddy, insisting her absences from school were part of the healing process. The school called and she’d lied, telling them Madison was sick and hopefully she’d be well enough to return soon.

  Madison didn’t know what to make of the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine. This was the Momma she could like and that scared her. She didn’t want to put too much stock into Momma’s new attitude for fear of her heart getting trampled when she resorted to her old ways again.

  “Why are you being nice, Momma?”

  Momma’s hand paused mid-air with the brush suspended over Madison’s cheekbone. Their gazes met. “You mean dolling you up for the funeral?”

  That and more, but she just nodded.

  Momma considered her handiwork. She set the blusher aside and instructed Madison to close her eyes while she applied a coat of mascara. “Open your eyes,” Momma said as she stood straight and projected a very casual shrug that smacked of underlying intent. “I don’t know. I regret not being more involved in your life. There are things I could’ve taught you to be more prepared for your future. And you never know who’ll take notice of you while at the funeral.”

  Prepared for what exactly? With her straight A’s and unusual talent for foreign languages, Ivy League schools were already showing interest in her. Unsure why, but she got the notion Momma wasn’t talking about preparing her for college degrees.

  “If this is what punishment is like for ‘no-account boys’ that take notice of me, then I’d prefer no one take notice, thank you very much,” Madison said with more attitude than she knew was necessary.

  A humorous smile arched Momma’s lips and she plucked her fingers through Madison’s hair. She arranged a couple of strands and pinned them to her liking as she said, “That boy wasn’t—”

  “That boy has a name, Momma.”

  A delicate blonde eyebrow arched high on Momma’s forehead. “Fair enough.” She conceded with a nod. Finished with Madison’s hair, she stepped back to study her. “Jack was not your knight and shining armor intended to rescue you. You’ll find your knight and shining armor soon, sweetheart. Just be patient.”

  Madison snorted. She didn’t need a knight to come to her rescue. She just wanted a little less criticism on Daddy’s part and Momma’s friendship was nice too. And when she graduated High School, she planned to accept the scholarship the farthest from Alabama. She had her own plans to get away from Daddy and she didn’t need any preparation for that.

 
; “You’re stunning, Madison. Take a look.” Momma indicated the mirror with a graceful swoop of her hand.

  Madison swiveled on the bench seat to look at herself and her mouth parted in shock. The dark gray eye shadow, black eye-liner and mascara complimented her ice blue eyes, their color vivid against her porcelain smooth skin. Wow! With Momma’s handiwork, she didn’t look like the same person. And maybe she came across a little seductive like Momma too. Uncomfortable with that level of eroticism, she had to fight the internal war to bolt to the shower and scrub herself free of the “devil’s accoutrements”—as Daddy called them. But if Daddy really felt that way, why didn’t he complain over Momma’s usage of make-up?

  “Push that insecurity I see in your eyes aside. Embrace the woman you know resides within you. Claim your destiny and enslave men to do your bidding. That gives you the key to your future and freedom from Daddy.” Madison met her mother’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection, confused by her comment. What made Momma think she wanted to enslave men? She had no desire to be like Momma. “No one should make you ashamed of being a beautiful woman. Not even your Daddy gets that right.” Momma squeezed her shoulders. “Put your high-heels on, sweetheart; I’ll meet you in the car and we’ll face your future together.”

  In the mirror, she watched Momma’s curvy reflection retreat from her bedroom. Madison continued to stare over her shoulder in the mirror until Momma’s heels ceased to clack against the marbled hallway floor. Slowly, she stood, checked her appearance. Her new dress displayed her figure as proudly as Momma showcased hers. She looked as sexy as Momma, too. Inside she felt like an insecure schoolgirl and other students would probably make fun of her for her bold attire.

  Madison squared her shoulders. She had as much right to be at this funeral as any of them. Maybe Momma was right and it was time for her take control of her own destiny. Certainly nothing bad could come of that decision.

  Life Lesson Nine

  Madison stared at the hole where Jack Moore’s pale blue casket glittered in the midday sun throughout the funeral. In the hour she’d stood there since everyone departed the cemetery, she’d watched the workers lower his casket into the earth. Now, they used a backhoe to cover it with good ole’ Alabama red clay. Sitting on the top of a tombstone, she didn’t worry if the deceased inhabitant was offended. She figured dead folks had more to worry about than if she sat on the granite marking their spot.

  “I’ll leave you alone.” Momma squeezed her arm. “I’ll be in the car waiting when you’re ready.”

  Surprised her Momma hadn’t already demanded they leave, Madison remained mute, staring at the hallowed out earth where Jack was being buried. Struggling with the frailty of life and how quickly it could end—there one hour and gone the next—she couldn’t digest the injustice of God allowing one so young to die. Death had never visited her family, so it had always been something suffered by other people. She felt guilty for Jack’s death, even though she’d done nothing specific to cause it.

  “Did you know Jack?”

  Madison wrenched around at the sound of the male voice. At the sight of him, her heart rammed against her ribs and her belly churned.

  “Everyone knew Jack.” She tried to calm her rioting reaction to his presence. The last person she expected to see here was Micah—the man that’d done funny things to her libido in church on Christmas morning. Uncomfortable and excited at the same time, she turned away and sucked in long steadying breaths. She hoped he didn’t notice his effect on her, while swearing she didn’t see the way the wind tugged at his neatly cut blond hair.

  “True,” he agreed in an amused sounding voice.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched Micah walk around the headstone, his gait self-assured and confident. Nothing like the insecure boys that attended her school, many of them full of bravado and struggling with their identity in the world, most of them too silly to take seriously.

  Madison resisted fidgeting or the impulse to tug at her hemline. Way too much thigh was exposed. Micah leaned against the granite beside her and crossed an ankle over the other one. A casual stance, but his perceptive gaze reminded her of one of those Jaguars she’d watched on the safari channel—totally aware of his surroundings even in a relaxed state and ready to sprint into action at the first sight of prey. She predicted he could take his quarry down as fast as a Jaguar, too.

  The last time she’d seen Micah, he’d been dressed in an Armani suit and tie. Today he wore a pair of relaxed jeans that showcased the muscular definition of his long legs. A royal blue button-down cotton shirt stretched taut across his shoulders. The material detailed his impressive physique; brawny somehow failed to accurately describe his particular build. Two months after their initial meeting, she was no less affected by his charisma than she had been Christmas morning. Her skin prickled like a static charge danced along her flesh. She’d never been this aware of anyone in her life and wasn’t altogether certain she liked it now.

  “How well did you know him?” Micah asked, resting his elbow on top of the headstone beside her. Too close to touching her hip and she imagined she could feel his body heat radiating from his arm.

  Madison shrugged. “I guess you knew him too?”

  Why’d she get the feeling he declined voicing his real thoughts just like she did?

  “You could say I’m friends with his parents.”

  Frowning, she looked at him. “That’s a strange way of putting it, Mr. –” She realized she didn’t know his last name and she refused to let him know she remembered his first.

  His arctic blue gaze shifted from the now dirt-rounded gravesite and captivated her. “Call me Micah.”

  She didn’t think she should, it felt too personal. Way too intimate.

  “I’m his family’s legal counsel.”

  A cool breeze snagged strands of her hair into her lipstick and she snatched at the offending locks. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied her mother seated behind the steering wheel of her red two-door S-series Mercedes. Momma stared in the other direction. As Madison turned her attention back to Micah, she slid off the tombstone taking special care to hold her skirt in place so it wouldn’t ride up.

  Micah adjusted his arm and placed his hand against his jean clad thigh. No wedding band. Single. She bet he got a lot of female attention.

  Relaxed against the headstone, she realized he was as tall as her. Used to staring people straight in the eye, it was a novel idea knowing she’d be forced to gaze up at him.

  “You don’t look old enough to be an attorney.” With a face devoid of lines, she couldn’t discern his real age.

  “I’m older than I look.” A lopsided grin tilted one corner of his freaking sexy lips and she resisted thinking about them on her mouth, the way Jack had kissed her. “You don’t look old enough to have fallen in love.”

  She thought she could fall hard and fast in love with Micah. Or at least worship him like she did her favorite actor, Brad Pitt. Puppy love is what her Daddy would call it.

  “I didn’t know Jack well enough to love him,” she admitted. Micah’s eyes glinted in the sunlight. Could he be pleased by her admission? She gave a mental snort. Such fancy served her no purpose. Micah was too old to be interested in her. “Can I tell you a secret no one but my mother knows?”

  “Of course, secrets are safe with me. I can’t exactly tell yours if I don’t know your name.” He peered at her while fingering his hair off his forehead. She preferred the messy look before he straightened the strands.

  “Jack dropped me off at home an hour before he died.” She shouldn’t be telling him this. It was easier telling a complete stranger her thoughts, and she didn’t have to worry about seeing the blame in the eyes of someone she knew. Momma wouldn’t understand and Daddy would most likely call her the spawn of Satan again. “He was the first boy to ask me to go anywhere with him. I’m having a hard time understanding why God would allow someone at the prime of his life to die.”

  Micah’s gaze narrowed, a
nd his eyebrows drew together to create a curious frown. “What makes you think God had anything to do with it?”

  “That’s what Daddy said.”

  “Ah…” He nodded, as if no further explanation was needed. “God wasn’t involved in his accident. If you think you’re to blame for his early passing, you’re wrong. Very wrong. It was Jack’s bad choices and improper actions that brought about his death.”

  Madison stared at Micah. She shivered and not from the cool breeze, but his wintry gaze. His sensuous mouth flattened with displeasure. She never wanted that look turned on her. “That sounds very insensitive.”

  “That’s not the way I intended it.” Micah’s attention shifted to Jack’s burial site. “Jack’s father is running for Mayor and Jack left his family in a precarious situation. Not only was Jack hunting illegally, he was trespassing. All matters I’m delegated to settle with as little scandal as possible.”

  Madison shook her head, appalled by the idea that Jack’s father worried more about his political career than the loss of his son. Could she expect anything different from her father in a similar situation? Doubtful.

  “I see the repugnance in your eyes. Humans are inherently cold natured. It’s cases like this that give me no expectation of humanity’s survival. But when I look into your innocent blue eyes, I see the hope for the world staring back at me.”

  She tried to interpret that in a platonic way, but came up with nothing so innocent. Her hands grew sweaty, and she would’ve ripped her gaze off his, but she worried it’d show her disequilibrium to his attention.

  Something of her greenness must have shown, because he said, “My apologies for my forwardness.”

  He lifted his hand to swipe his hair off his forehead and she caught his wrist. Shocked by her impulsiveness, she stared at her fingers wrapped around his wrist, suspended mid-air between them. The touch of his skin against hers smoldered along her pulse points and moved low into her belly. Their eyes met, she snatched her hand away and she whispered, “Leave it.”