Reclaiming Charity (The Potter's House Books Book 21)

by Marion Ueckermann

  Madison had loved that piece. Made her want to just stretch right out beside the life-size bronzed beach babe lying on a towel.

  A man around Brody’s age, with his same build and artist’s ponytail, rushed onto the stage to receive his trophy and winner’s check from Ellie for ten thousand dollars. Cole Johnson raised the trophy above his head before shaking the hands of the other judges. He took his place beside them.

  “A worthy win, don’t you think?” Ellie turned to receive the second envelope from Rob and opened it.

  “Taking second place and twenty thousand dollars in prize money, all the way from Big Sky Country…”

  The drums rolled once more.

  Beside Charity, Georgia’s breath hitched and her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Georgia Bell with her incredible palette knife oil painting on canvas of the dancing Chippewa Cree titled ‘Pow-Wow’. So deserving of this place. And what a pow-wow Georgia gave us with those bright feathers—so real, you wanted to reach out and touch them, right?”

  Georgia still sat glued to her seat, frozen with shock.

  Madison leaned past Charity and shook Georgia’s shoulder lightly. “That’s you friend. Get on up there before they give that place to someone else.”

  Georgia nodded. “Yes, yes.” She rose and hurried to the stage, shouting and waving her hands. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  Laughter rose around the banqueting hall.

  Georgia was such a honey, and Madison couldn’t be happier for her. But if Madison didn’t take that first place, she would’ve wanted Georgia to have won the coveted prize. So in that sense, a twinge of disappointment mingled with her excitement.

  Georgia repeated Cole’s victory round then went to stand beside him.

  Madison’s heart thumped so hard in her chest now, she was certain those sitting close-by could hear it too. Then again, their hearts were probably also pounding, as were the hearts of all the other contestants.

  Ellie opened the final envelope and clutched it to her chest with a sigh. “Oh, this one is so close to my heart, and while the judges’ decision on the first place was unanimous, I want you all to know that I had no sway or influence over my esteemed peers.”

  Someone in the audience shouted out “Texas! The lone star!”

  Ellie’s mouth curved in a smile. “It gives me the greatest pleasure to award the grand prize to Madison Peterson from my home state for her fine art oil painting on canvas, Girl in a Field, along with fifty thousand dollars in prize money, plus an exclusive exhibition of the artist’s work at the Ellie Sanders Gallery.” She stretched out her arm, beckoning to Madison.

  Charity shrieked, and somewhere in the room, Madison heard her father’s voice boom, “That’s my girl!”

  This was a dream come true.

  But it could also be the beginning of her worst nightmare.

  Dear Jesus

  Much as I had wanted to, I didn’t get to write to You last night. Grandma and Grandpa, as well as Ellie Sanders and Rob, insisted that Mom and I stay and celebrate. It was a lot of fun, but we were both so exhausted by the time we got back to the hotel. What an exciting night. I’m just sad that my dad missed it.

  I’m writing a quick note as I need to get up and get dressed for breakfast soon. Liam is picking up Mom and me at ten. I wish we weren’t staying one more night with my grandparents. I just want to go home. I miss my dad. And I miss my dog. At least we’ll be home tomorrow night.

  If only Dad had taken Mom’s calls, or mine for that matter…maybe then I wouldn’t be feeling quite as homesick. Or worried. I don’t know how my father will react when we get home. He hasn’t answered any calls, or responded to our texts or voicemails. If his silent treatment is anything to go on…

  Well, You’ve told me not to worry—about anything—so I’m just going to take a deep breath and leave this messy situation in Your hands, because I know that no matter how bad something might be, You will work everything for good just because I love You and am called by You. That’s what Your word says.

  So I choose to trust You. In everything.

  Please change my father’s mind about Mom having entered, and won, the contest. Please let him be as happy and as proud of her as I am. You have given my mother so much talent, and the world should get to see and enjoy it more.

  Help my dad to agree to come to New York for Ellie Sanders’s exhibition, which might not even happen at this stage as most of Mom’s work is tied up in the gallery. I know she’s concerned about that, so I pray that You will work this out…for all our sakes.

  With love

  Charity

  (Daughter of the King)

  Chapter Fifteen

  SEATED ON the plane at Newark airport bound for Kansas City, Madison’s mind mulled over the events of the day before. Both she and Charity had tried to steer the conversations over lunch and dinner to the gala event and her win. However, during dessert last night, Mother had finally come right out and asked what Charity had meant on Friday about Brody kicking them out. Father was shocked at the question and demanded to know what was going on. Madison stood her ground, telling her parents that her marriage was none of their concern. Or their business.

  “Well, if there’s any truth in what Charity said, know that you both will always have a home here,” Father had reassured her.

  Humph, as if she would be able to live under the same roof as her mother for an indefinite period of time.

  Madison turned to Charity, seated at the window. “Honey, I’m going to get some shut-eye for the next three hours. I’m still pretty tired from Saturday, and we have at least a two-hour drive back home once we land. It’ll be seven before we get back to Cottonwood Falls, maybe even heading toward eight o’clock, depending on the traffic.

  Charity’s eyes brightened. “I can help with the driving, Mom.”

  “Yes, of course, you can. I keep forgetting that you’re a licensed driver now. It’ll be good practice for you as well. As long as the road back home isn’t too busy.”

  Madison closed her eyes, and by the time she opened them again, the flight attendant was calling for passengers to fasten their seatbelts as the plane was commencing its descent. She hadn’t realized just how exhausted she had been. But the past week had been emotionally taxing, bearing the silent treatment from Brody. How she would’ve loved to have had him share all the excitement with her.

  Instead…

  She blew out a sigh and checked her seatbelt, realizing that she’d never unbuckled it since taking off in New York.

  Once Madison and Charity had retrieved their luggage from the baggage carousel, they headed to the long-term parking where Madison had parked her car. At least they didn’t have the painting to contend with as well. Ellie Sanders had already taken that to exhibit in her gallery. In a month’s time they would return to New York for the opening of the Madison Peterson exhibition at the Ellie Sanders Gallery. Hopefully, Brody would come to terms with everything long before then and accompany her. School would have just started. Well, Charity would need to miss the Friday and Monday because Madison didn’t want to do this without her daughter experiencing it too. And who knows, maybe it would spark that creativity in Charity that Madison knew existed deep down inside of her. With her and Brody’s genes, how could her daughter not also have incredible talent?

  Their luggage stowed in the car, Madison turned to Charity. “Honey, let me drive us out of the city. Once we’re on the I-35, I’ll find a rest stop to pull over and we can switch seats. Okay?”

  “Perfect, Mom. I’d never be able to drive in all this traffic. I’m quite happy to wait until there are only a few cars on the road.”

  They’d driven for three-quarters of an hour before Madison veered right on Exit 210 near Gardner. She pulled in at the rest stop and Charity took over the driving.

  Just as well Madison had slept on the plane. She didn’t realize she’d be this nervous having her daughter drive on the big, open roads for the first time. Not tha
t Charity was a bad driver by any means—Madison was just an over-cautious mom.

  The closer they got to Cottonwood Falls, the harder Madison’s heart pounded.

  Charity shot her a glance. “You’re very quiet. Are you scared?”

  Madison nodded. She swallowed hard, fighting her tears. She couldn’t shake the premonition that things would not go well.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. Jesus tells us not to. Remember that no matter what happens, He’s in control.”

  Oh, if only she had the same faith as her daughter.

  Maybe if her parents had let her go to Sunday school and church…

  As Charity drove up their driveway, she pressed the garage remote. The door slowly rolled up, and Madison’s lungs constricted, refusing to give air.

  Brody’s SUV was in the garage. He was home. Any minute now, there’d be a confrontation. Why hadn’t she dropped Charity at Sandy’s house instead so that her daughter could be spared this showdown? But it was too late now. Besides, Charity had missed her dad and was excited she’d be seeing him soon.

  They entered the kitchen through the garage door, dragging their luggage behind them.

  Brody stood in front of the oven, an apron tied around his waist like always when he was cooking. A meaty aroma permeated the air, assailing Madison’s senses. Dinner smelled so good.

  Hearing them, Brody pivoted.

  And wow, her husband looked so good, despite time having marched on from the usual five-o-clock shadow that graced his jawline. Her stomach gave a little growl; her heart a thump. She was hungry—and for more than just the food.

  “Dad, I’ve missed you.” Charity rushed toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pinched the longer stubble on his cheek between her fingers and gave a tug. “And this? Your electric razor not working?”

  Ignoring Madison, Brody shrugged. He wouldn’t even look her way. “No time to shave. It’s been a busy week running the business and house on my own.” A caustic tone coated his words.

  “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. Run upstairs and take a bath, or unpack, or something. Your mother and I need to be alone to talk.”

  Madison’s pulse raced so fast, she felt dizzy and positively ill as Charity walked away, carry-on bag in one hand, dragging the larger suitcase behind her with the other as she left Madison to face the Brody music alone.

  Lord, help me, she prayed, not knowing if God would answer. She’d never paid Him much attention before. Would the Almighty take any notice of her crisis prayers?

  Needing more time to brace herself for what was about to come, Madison spoke to Brody’s back. “D–do you mind if I shower first? I–it’s been a long day. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

  “Whatever. I’ll be here.”

  Madison clutched her bags and started to walk away.

  “Leave those there.” Brody’s sharp, brash tone knifed Madison’s heart. “I’ll bring them.”

  Well, things couldn’t be that bad. At least he hadn’t forgotten how to be a gentleman and help a lady.

  Madison raced upstairs, eager to keep her promise not to take long, totally unprepared for the sight before her as she walked into their bedroom. Her body began to tremble. Two large suitcases stood in front of her dresser.

  What? Was Brody leaving her?

  Or—

  She turned and slammed into the virile chest she had loved to caress for over seventeen years. Now it was hard and uninviting. She looked up at her husband, tears threatening to spill over. “Brody…w–what is this?”

  “Your things. Or at least enough to tide you over until you can get the rest. I didn’t want Charity to see. I’ll take your suitcases to the car.”

  “What? W–why are you doing this?” She thought by now he would have seen the error of his ways. But it seemed the only mistakes he saw, were hers.

  “I told you, Madison… I warned you that if you went to New York, not to come back to me. You made your choice.” His blue eyes, usually warm with ardor, were as cold as their icy color.

  “For the betterment of us, of our business,” Madison argued. “That’s why I went.”

  “We didn’t need betterment. But you made your choice, Madison. And it wasn’t me. I want you to go. Now!” Brody pushed past her and wrapped his fingers around the suitcase handles. He wheeled the bags toward the door.

  Madison grabbed his shirt’s sleeve. “Brody, don’t do this. Not over something I did for the two of us.”

  He spun around. “You’re just like her! Walking out on me, putting your career before your family. Finding excuses to pursue your own dreams!”

  What was he talking about?

  “Like who?”

  He stared at her, nostrils flaring, breathing hard.

  “Like who, Brody?” Madison asked again.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just leave. Now!”

  Hands still shaking from anger at Madison and the stark realization of what he’d just done, Brody set a bowl of herbed potato salad down in the middle of the kitchen table. He’d seen Madison’s text about what time they anticipated being home, so he was able to prepare dinner for Charity, but he’d resolved that Madison would be gone before they sat down to eat.

  Charity blew into the kitchen, still clothed in the jeans and T-shirt she’d returned home in, and sank into her seat at the table. She must have used the time in her room to unpack. He hadn’t thought she’d opt for a bath this early. She set her cell phone down on the table, her gaze oscillating between the two plates, and her smile faded. “Why are there only two places set? Where’s, Mom?”

  “She won’t be joining us for dinner tonight.” Or any other night. The thought pained him. But it couldn’t be helped. He’d rather be the one to do the discarding, than be the one discarded soon enough.

  Again.

  History repeating itself.

  The pain of the bitter memory dug deep, hurting just as much as it had so long ago.

  He pulled the rack of ribs from the oven and set them down on the counter. He cut the rack in two, one side slightly bigger than the other, then dished the smaller rack onto Charity’s plate.

  “Is she feeling unwell? Lying down upstairs?” His daughter’s bright blue eyes held his, searching for answers.

  “She’s…” What did he say? I kicked your mother out into the night? No child would take that news well. What had he been thinking?

  But what was done, was done.

  Settled in his chair, Brody lifted his knife and fork, even though the events of the night had left his appetite waning. “Let’s eat. We’ll talk later, okay, sweetheart?”

  Charity cleared her throat. “Um, can I say grace for us, Dad?”

  Knife hovering above the rack, ready to slice, Brody paused. He nodded. “Of course.”

  Charity closed her eyes, and Brody imitated her.

  “Dear Lord Jesus, thank You for bringing Mom and me back safely. Thank You for blessing her so. Thank You for her talent. If she’s ill, I pray that You’ll help her to feel well again, and if she’s just tired, give her sweet sleep. Will you bless this food to us, Lord Jesus, and bless the hands that prepared it.” She gave a soft chuckle. “That’s my dad’s hands.”

  Brody shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had just told his daughter’s mother to leave, and here Charity was praying for his hands to be blessed. The same hands that had carried Madison’s suitcases to her car and flung them inside in white hot anger. Would she still pray the same blessing once she knew?

  “In Your mighty name I pray. Amen,” his sweet girl concluded.

  Charity was about a third of the way through her meal when she set her knife and fork down. “I’m going to run upstairs and see if Mom wants something to eat.”

  “Charity… Don’t.”

  “Why?” Her gaze questioned as she started to ease out of her chair.

  He wasn’t going to dodge this explanation tonight. “B–because your mother isn’t upstairs.”

  Palms on th
e table as she half stood, Charity froze. “Where is she then?”

  “I–I don’t know.” Although he suspected she’d go to Sandy’s house. Then again, it was entirely possible for her to check into a hotel as well.

  Lines rippled across her brow as what was left of her smile vanished. Her voice cracked, “W–what do you mean, you don’t know, Dad?”

  Brody expelled the air from his lungs, then breathed in deeply. “Did your mother tell you that when she informed me about entering the contest, I warned her? I told her that if she went to New York, she wasn’t to come back to me.”

  His knife and forked clunked against the porcelain plate as he dropped the utensils and stared his daughter down. “She made her choice, Charity—don’t make me the bad guy here.”

  “Why Dad? Why are you so threatened by her entering? Did you submit an entry to the contest and now you’re annoyed that you weren’t the one who finaled? Why are you so jealous of Mom?” Charity wailed as she pushed to her full height, looking down on Brody.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t enter the contest, Charity. And I’m not jealous of your mother. T–there are things you don’t know, don’t understand. If I could tell you, you would realize why the stance I’ve taken is for the good of this family.”

  Charity’s eyes widened as she crossed her arms, jutting out one jean-clad hip. “For the good of this family? Wha—? Dad, you just broke up this family!”

  She turned and ran from the kitchen leaving Brody to stew on her words.

  Dear Jesus

  My heart is broken. My faith is fragile. Even so, I will choose to trust You, that You will remain true to Your Word that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.

  I don’t think I can cry any more tears, but I thank You that not one is wasted, that you see each one I shed. They’re so precious to You that You keep them stored in a bottle; You write each one down so they’re not forgotten.