Maddie shook her head and kept scrubbing. She’d have the cleanest mouth in all of Bright Hills. Jack sighed and delivered a final kiss, this one on her cheek. He hugged her from behind, whispered, “Stubborn woman,” and was gone.
That evening Jack’s old friend, a highway patrolman Maddie had met once or twice, appeared on her front porch. “Hi, Maddie. May I come in? I’m afraid I have some bad news. You should probably sit down.”
Everything after that was a blur.
“…on his way home…other driver…under the influence…died instantly.”
And while she sat at the kitchen table, with the awful orange and avocado-green tiles lying cold as death beneath her bare feet, all she could think of was that she would never have the chance to give Jack the last thing he’d asked of her.
A week later at Jack’s funeral, she met the woman Natalie and her husband, Sid, and learned that after Jack’s meeting with them he had made reservations at their B&B for he and Maddie to stay over Maddie’s birthday weekend. The information, meant to comfort her, dug into her heart like talons. While Jack was thinking of her with love, she was thinking the worst of him. And now she couldn’t take it back, couldn’t apologize, couldn’t kiss him, could never say goodbye.
Knuckles rapped on the door and a moment later Brenna peeked in. She didn’t wait for an invitation, just came in and sat on the bed next to Maddie.
“About earlier. I’m so sorry. One minute we were talking and the next I turned into some crazy person,” Brenna said.
Maddie balled up her tissue, tossed it into the trash, pulled a fresh one from the box, and blew her nose. “You were right, Bren. I needed to hear it. We’re good. Any news from the insurance company?”
“Sean just called. The plumber will have your pipes fixed tomorrow. Until then, of course, your water is still shut off. Electrical is fine. No structural damage either, but some of your drywall has to be replaced, and the ceiling in the study. The restoration company is done extracting the water and they left huge blowers to dry things out. They’ll test for mold in a few days, make sure you’re all clear. Oh, and your carpet is trashed.” Brenna leaned into Maddie delivering a sideways nudge. “You planned on replacing all the carpet anyway. Now your insurance will cover the cost.”
“Great.”
“You know, Cal’s worried about you, and he was really amazing today. You should call him.” Brenna took Maddie’s hand in her own. “Under the circumstances, don’t you think he deserves that much?”
“I know he does, but I can’t talk to him right now. I don’t know what to say.”
“Maddie, I know this flood threw you a curve, but don’t let it undo all the good.”
“I’ll call him when I’m ready.”
“You’ve got your stubborn on.”
Maddie looked away and swallowed hard. That’s what Jack would say.
***
“You hear from Maddie yet?” Dante dribbled the basketball in Cal’s driveway and set up for a shot. Cal jumped and whacked the ball, grabbed it and made a throw. Swoosh.
“No.”
“Have you called her?” Dribble, dribble. And in for a rim shot.
“Yes.” Dribble, dribble, and bam.
The ball rattled the backboard and dropped to the cement.
Dante scooped it up on the bounce and started it spinning on his finger, kept it going. “And?” he pressed.
Cal tapped the ball. It fell to the driveway and bounced into the lawn. “And nothing.” He wiped sweat from his eyes with the hem of his T-shirt. “She doesn’t answer my calls or messages.”
“How long has it been now? Two weeks? She’s back in her house by now. You should just go over there.”
“I’m not going over.”
They stared at each other for a full minute and Dante nodded. “What about the desk?”
“I had to practically rebuild the damn thing.” Cal sighed, drew in a deep breath. “Be done in a few days. I’ll have Luis and Ray bring it back to her.”
“No, idiot. You bring it back to her.” Dante shook his head. “Don’t you want to fix this?”
“There’s nothing to fix.” Cal threw up his hands. “It’s not like we had a fight, or I did something I should apologize for. It’s just shit timing. She wasn’t ready for a relationship. Obviously. We’re both better off just letting it go, and it’s better for TJ this way.”
“Says who? Every time I see the kid he asks if I’ve seen Maddie and Pirate, if she ever orders pizza.”
“Okay, yes, and there it is. Thank you. You just made my case for me. This whole mess is the reason I didn’t want to get involved in the first place. TJ doesn’t need to have people come into his life who are going to disappear on a whim.”
“Oh, c’mon. Cut Maddie some slack. This didn’t happen on a whim.”
“No. But it did happen,” Cal said. “You know what TJ asked me last night? He wanted to know if Maddie was mad at him and why she didn’t like us anymore. What the hell was I supposed to say to that?”
“What did you say?”
“That sometimes when people are sad they want to be alone. So then he wants to know why, if Maddie’s so sad, we aren’t trying to cheer her up because that’s what friends do. He’s five, Dante. He doesn’t understand, and I don’t know how to explain it to him. What I do know is that I can protect him by making sure we’re never in this situation again.”
“The little dude’s pretty smart. That is what friends do.”
Cal sighed. “Listen, I have to shower and get TJ to his tee-ball game. Water’s in the fridge if you want some.”
“Nah. A couple of my summer hires left to go back to college so I’m working a double.”
“You say that like it’s something new. You’re always working, anyway.”
“The life of a restaurateur. I need to head home, get cleaned up. Later, man.”
Cal trudged into the house, guzzled a bottle of water, and strolled down the hallway to take a shower. In the master bedroom, he pulled open the dresser drawer and took a second to touch the worn cotton of Gwen’s favorite college T-shirt that she had worn as a nightshirt for years. Oversized, it bore the faded image of UGA’s bulldog mascot. She had newer things, sexy things, in satin and silk that he had given away to Goodwill, but this one, ratty and soft from age and too many washings to count, had been her hands-down favorite.
“I miss you, Gwennie,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
He lifted the fabric to his nose and breathed in, but it didn’t smell like her anymore. It hadn’t for a long time. He tucked the shirt back into the drawer, grabbed a pair of boxers, and headed for the bathroom where he turned on the shower and made a point of thinking about work, TJ, the upcoming ball game, and everything and anything except Maddie Kinkaid. He didn’t want to picture her in the tub, skin rosy and warm, making that little sound in her throat that fired him up, or standing there, right there in that spot, wrapped up in a blue towel and smelling like Batman bubbles. Don’t go there, he warned himself. It’s over. Just let it go.
Thirty minutes later, dressed and packed up for the game, Cal stood on Shelley’s little porch and rapped on the door.
“You’re early,” Shelley said when she opened the door. “I thought you weren’t measuring my windows till later this afternoon.”
“You’d be right. I’ll still swing by later to measure your windows. Did you decide on the double pane?” At her nod he said, “Okay. I’ll get the order placed Monday. Right now I’m here for TJ.”
Shelley’s smile turned into a confused frown. “TJ’s not here, Cal. I haven’t seen him at all today.”
The numbness began as a warning tingle in Cal’s belly and spread outward through his extremities. “What? Henry came to get him a couple hours ago. They said they were going to play here.”
Shelley opened the door wider and stepped back to allow Cal entry into her living room. “Henry,” she called. “C’mere, sweetie.”
Henry appeared from s
ome place down the hall. His eyes grew wide when he spied Cal and his trot slowed to a trudge.
Shelley exchanged a look with Cal and held her arms out to her son. “Henry, do you know where TJ is?” she demanded, holding him by the shoulders.
Henry’s eyes darted from his mother to Cal and down to the floor.
“Henry, if you know where TJ is you have to tell me, okay?” Cal squatted in front of the little boy and fought to regulate his voice, but it sounded foreign even to him.
Henry lifted one shoulder in a little shrug. “I dunno,” he whispered.
Shelley dropped to her knees. “This isn’t a game, sweetheart. If you know, you have to say. Right now, Henry.”
Henry licked his lips and continued to stare at his feet. Shelley gave him a little shake, and his eyes, wide pools of blue misery, darted up. “I promised TJ, Mommy. I promised not to tell.”
“You’re a great friend to TJ,” Cal said. “His very best friend. And I know you don’t want to break your promise, but this is really important. You aren’t in trouble and TJ’s not in trouble. But you have to tell me where he is, because TJ might need help, so telling is the right thing to do.”
“You aren’t in trouble yet,” Shelley clarified, “but you will be if you don’t spill it. Right now, mister.”
Henry gulped. “He’s goin’ to Miss Maddie’s house. He said she’s sad and he wants to make her happy again. He brought granola bars and jelly beans in case he gets hungry.”
“Okay, Henry. Thank you. You did the right thing by telling.” Cal pulled the little boy into a hug, ruffled his hair, and smiled. “Did you see which direction he went?”
Henry sighed, a huge huff that expanded then deflated his narrow chest, and brought relief into his eyes. The telling of the secret loosened his tongue. “That way.” Henry pointed to the right. “He said it was gonna be a really long walk. We found him a good stick to walk with, like his Grampa Boone uses sometimes.”
Cal checked the time, thought back. Henry had come for TJ after Dante showed up at ten and it was almost noon now. Give or take fifteen minutes, the kid set out on his mission of mercy about ninety minutes ago at the most, probably closer to an hour because he took the time to pack snacks and hunt down a stick. How far could he get on those little legs?
“Thanks, Henry. If you think of anything else that might help me find TJ, tell your mom so she can call me.”
“Okay, Mr. Cal.”
Shelley reached out to touch Cal’s arm. “We’ll drive the neighborhood, and I’ll call you if we spot him.”
“Actually, I’m about to do that myself, then drive the route to where he’s headed on the off chance he’s gotten farther than I think. I’d sure appreciate it if you could stick around here in case he comes home.”
“Sure. I’ll just grab my phone and start calling the neighbors, too. Maybe someone’s seen him.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
Cal pulled his phone from his pocket and called Dante on his way out the door.
“Hey, on your way home you didn’t spot a little kid walking, did you? TJ’s gone MIA on me.”
“What? The little dude took off?”
“He’s gone looking for Maddie. I figure he’s been gone about an hour.”
“I’m just getting out of the shower. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there to help you hunt him down. Did you call Maddie?”
“She’s next.”
Cal dialed Maddie while he drove through the neighborhood. Her voice mail picked up the call and he left a message. He repeated the effort three more times before tossing the phone into the passenger seat in disgust. He talked to every person he saw walking or working in their yards, unloading groceries in their driveways, playing ball with their kids, but none remembered seeing TJ. Cal reached the end of the neighborhood and pulled up to the stop sign in his truck as Dante pulled into the subdivision in his Mustang.
“No luck, huh? Did you get hold of Maddie?”
“She’s not taking my goddamn calls,” Cal said, his voice a growl. “I’m heading that direction now. I didn’t think TJ would make it that far, but he just might. How fast can a five-year-old walk?”
“Hard to say. And he might not be on the road, you know. I watched for him on the way from my place and it occurred to me that he might not keep to the street. Little dude’s smart. He might walk in the woods alongside the highway to stay safe from cars and keep out of the sun.”
“Shit.” Cal said. “Do me a favor and drive the neighborhood again on the off chance he doubled back for some reason. Shelley is making phone calls to neighbors and watching the house, in case he comes home.”
Dante flashed a quick grin. “Shelley? The hot blonde next door, right?”
“Focus, asshole. I need to find my boy.” And so saying, he pulled a left out of the neighborhood and hit the gas.
***
“I always loved this on Jack.” Maddie held up a sweater of confederate blue. She and Brenna stood in the master bedroom at Maddie’s house going through the clothes on Jack’s side of the closet. “It looked beautiful with his eyes.” She smiled at Brenna, wistful, and folded the sweater. She laid it in the box on top of Jack’s other things.
“I’m proud of you, Mads.” Brenna folded another shirt of Jack’s and added it to the box. “I know this is hard for you.”
Maddie caught Brenna’s gaze and held it. “I’m glad you took this weekend off. I know you did it for me, and I should feel guilty for keeping you from the Lump & Grind, but I don’t. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” She looked in the closet and blew out a breath. “I think that’s it. That jacket is the only thing left. You know, it’s funny. For the last four years I couldn’t bear the thought of giving away Jack’s clothes, and now that I’m finally doing it, I find there’s not too much I really need to keep.” She tugged the jacket from the hanger, tried to remember Jack wearing it, and couldn’t. It was burgundy, not Jack’s color, which explained why it lay hidden at the back of the closet.
“So what did you keep?”
“A couple of his ties. His fraternity jersey.” Maddie laid the jacket in the box and began to tuck the flaps closed.
“Hold on. You forgot to check the pockets. You’ve already found a pack of gum, three pens, a wadded up single and a twenty dollar bill in this stuff. Jack was such a pack rat. Who knew?”
Maddie grinned and pulled the jacket back out of the box. She turned one of the pockets inside out. “Nothing. See?”
“Keep looking. If we find more money, you have to buy me lunch.”
“I’ll buy you lunch anyway. I owe you. I wouldn’t have gotten this far if it wasn’t for you and all your tough love.”
“Aw, listen to you being all diplomatic.”
“Would you rather I said thanks for being a bitch?” Maddie laughed and hugged Brenna, crushing Jack’s coat between them.
“You know, you need to call Cal. That’s where my next round of bitchiness will be aimed.”
Maddie’s dark eyes clouded. “I said some terrible things to him. I hope he’ll forgive me.”
“What are you waiting for? Call him now.”
Maddie readjusted her glasses. “Not until all of this is done. I need to be able to look Caleb Walker in the eyes and tell him my heart is available.”
“Well, isn’t it? Why wait?”
“All of this has to be finished first.” Maddie gesticulated, indicating the boxes and the empty hangers in the closet. “I’ll talk to Caleb when I can tell him it’s done, not it’s ‘almost done’ or ‘I’m working on it.’ He deserves that.”
Maddie turned the other pocket inside out, and then unzipped a pocket on the inside of the jacket.
“What did the trick for you?” Brenna asked. “I mean, no offense, but you were a total whack job the first few days after the flood.”
“Whack job? That’s not very nice. You could benefit from a dose of my diplomacy skills.”
“Just answer the question.
I’m curious.”
“It was what you said about Jack being stuck here taking care of me, that maybe there were bigger plans for him and he needed to go but I was holding him back.”
“I said that? Really?”
“Not that diplomatically.” Maddie’s wry tone made Brenna smile. “But you got your point across. The day Jack died he said goodbye to me. It was me who never said goodbye to him. The circumstances—” She looked down at the jacket, plucked at the wool fabric. “We had a fight that morning. It was pretty bad.” Before Brenna could ask, Maddie looked up at her and said, “It was just me being stupid and insecure, and Jack being Jack.” She smiled. “Anyway, Jack said goodbye when he left for work. He asked me to say goodbye to him, to tell him I loved him, and I didn’t do it. I was being stubborn.”
Brenna drew Maddie into another hug. “Oh, honey. You never told me.”
“Don’t be so nice, you’ll make me cry.”
“Okay. You never told me, you bitch,” Brenna said and made Maddie laugh.
“Anyway, that’s why I couldn’t let him go. And then he started, you know, talking to me. I never thought of it like he was my personal Ouija board.”
“But that’s how you treated it, hon. How you treated him.”
Maddie considered and nodded. “In a way, I guess you’re right. But then the burst pipe, the flood, and everything that happened with Caleb. Jack wants me to let go.” She stuck her hand in the last unzipped pocket. “Jack said goodbye to me the day he died. I never said goodbye to him. I’m trying to do that now. Hey, there’s something in this one.” Maddie pulled her hand from the pocket and held up a folded slip of paper.
“Bummer. I was hoping he’d stashed another twenty. What is it?” Brenna dropped to the bed and tucked one foot under her.
Maddie shrugged. “Probably just a reminder to pick up the dry cleaning or stop at the grocery store for milk and eggs.” Maddie stared at the paper, fingered it, but didn’t unfold it to see what, if anything, Jack had written on it.
“Is there anything else to look through, any other clothes anywhere?” Brenna asked.
“Nope. Believe it or not, this is the last of it.”
“You sure? Because my brother was a clotheshorse.”
Love Built to Last Page 24
