Barefoot Summer (9 page)

Stay relaxed. Bodies float. Breathe in. Breathe out.

He said something again, encouragement probably. She
was
doing good. She was doing great.

The water kissed the corners of her mouth. She locked her lips shut, breathed through her nose. Her breaths became shallow, the rush of oxygen drying her throat.

He was talking again, his tone soothing.

Relax. Relax. Relax. Breathe. In. Out. Think limp.

Loose.

Light.

He’s right here, holding you up—

Wait, where were his hands? She didn’t feel his hands.

She was floating on her own.

And then she wasn’t.

He reached for her, but not before water closed over her face, not before she sucked in a mouthful of creek.

She grabbed for him, coughing. Her feet sought firm ground.

“You’re okay. You’re fine.”

Standing now, she pushed at him, hacking. “You’re not the one with a lungful of creek water.”

“You were floating though. You did it.”

“You let go!”

“And you did it. All by yourself.”

“Yeah, right before I drowned.”

“You didn’t drown. You aren’t going to drown. Trust me.”

She gave a final cough, glaring at him. Trust. She thought of Jade, of all the stunts he’d pulled in the past.

“Well, I don’t trust you, okay?” She made eye contact long enough to make her point.

Something flickered in his eyes, and she steeled herself against it.

She was blowing this out of proportion. She knew that. But she didn’t like being at his mercy. It wasn’t a safe place to be.

“I need a minute.” She waded away a few feet, coughed, wiped her face dry. She studied a wispy cloud drifting slowly across the blue sky. A blue jay cried out. Somewhere upstream, water rippled over mossy rocks. She pulled in a lungful of pine-scented air. She could feel Beckett’s eyes burning into her back.

She would trust him—maybe—if he’d just tell her what happened with Jade.

She remembered her conversation with Ryan, her resolve to find out what happened. If Madison knew the truth, maybe she could reason with her sister, talk her into coming home—if Jade ever called.

She turned and found him looking at her. “When are you going to tell me what happened with Jade?”

His brows went taut, his lips flattened. “If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you herself.”

“Well, she isn’t here.”

“She’s an adult, Madison.”

Didn’t he know how fragile Jade was? Had Beckett only been toying with her feelings? Were those secret admirer notes some
kind of game to him? That he could be so careless with Jade’s heart made heat flood her cheeks.

“What did you do to her?” Madison asked.

“I didn’t do anything.” Beckett clenched his jaw, locked it down tight before he said something he regretted.

He’d gladly tell her if the truth weren’t so revealing. If he didn’t have something personal at stake.

“You did
something
. She wouldn’t have left otherwise, Beckett. She was happy when you left for the banquet, and then she was gone. If you don’t have anything to hide, just tell me.”

He turned away. Did she think it didn’t kill him to know he’d hurt Jade? He’d prayed for her every day since she left.

“I didn’t hurt her.” Not the way Madison thought anyway.

“Then what happened?” Her voice was closer. “Just tell me.”

He turned, took in her beautiful face. The way her eyes shimmered. The way her elfin chin lifted. A bead of water trickled down her temple, down the planes of her cheek like a teardrop. He barely stopped himself from brushing it away.

“We should get back to work,” he said softly. “I have someplace to be in an hour.”

Something flashed in her eyes. A shadow moved over her jaw. Then all emotion was gone, shut down, a proprietor flipping over the Closed sign.

“I’m going to find out. She’ll tell me.”

The warning hit its mark, but not for any of the reasons she suspected.

And then she was walking away, the water closing in behind her.

He turned and dived into the center, swimming underwater until his lungs burned. He came up on the other side, near the cliff wall. The shoreline was empty, and a few minutes later he heard the sound of her car starting.

He dived back in, surfaced, and treaded toward the shoreline, needing to burn off energy. The last thing he’d ever meant to do was hurt Jade. She’d always reminded him of a wounded bird, though he was sure she wouldn’t like the comparison. She went out of her way to dress “different”: gypsy skirts, bandannas, rings on every finger. Sometimes her dark hair sported a colorful streak. Someone like that had either a fashion flair, a rebellious streak, or deep-rooted insecurities. With Jade, he’d never been sure which it was.

Beckett came to his feet in the water and slogged the rest of the way to shore. He sat on the grassy bank and toweled off.

Everything about that night made him cringe. The way she’d talked on the way to the dance, excited but shy; the way she’d smiled up at him after they’d entered the town hall, eyes bright like a child’s on Christmas morning.

He’d never been to the Spring Sowers Banquet. Wasn’t really his thing: the suits, the soft music and fancy tables. But he had to admit the committee had transformed the town hall. White linens covered the circular tables, soft lighting glowed from the wall sconces, and swags of some frothy material were draped artfully from the ceiling. Gone were the usual popcorn and coffee smells, replaced by something sweet and subtle.

He selected a table in a shadowed corner, pulling out Jade’s
chair, and made small talk with her for a while. A three-piece band struck up a slow tune, and he was grateful for the interruption of the awkward conversation.

It was sinking in that getting through this night was only half the battle. She’d expect another date and then another. How was he going to let her down easy?

His hand faltered on the way to the water glass when he saw Mr. and Mrs. McKinley across the room. A few seconds later he spied Jade’s brother Ryan at a table with friends. Great. Just great. The whole family was going to hate him. They’d be relieved when nothing came of their relationship, no doubt, but they’d hate him for hurting Jade.

At the end of the song, the band shifted to another tune. The soft buzz of conversation filled the room as waiters began placing salads. Jade pushed back, her green eyes shining. “I need to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here.”

He watched her go, the guilt pressing hard against his ribs, making breathing uncomfortable. Stupid! Why had he ever thought it was okay to ask Madison out?

A moment later his baby sister slipped into the chair next to his, her blue skirt billowing around her. Layla’s hair fell in dark springy ringlets, and a hint of makeup complemented her naturally pretty face.

“She said yes! Where is she?”

Apparently Layla hadn’t seen Jade yet. He sank deeper into the metal chair. “She didn’t say yes. Her sister did.”

Layla’s fine brows pulled together. “What?”

He told her what happened, watching every emotion register on her face.

“Oh, honey, that’s awful. What are you going to do?”

Sidney Blevins grabbed Layla’s arm. “Help! My spaghetti strap broke! You have a pin?”

Beckett looked away as his sister dug through her enormous purse.

“I’ll be right back,” Layla said a moment later.

“Take your time.” He wasn’t going anywhere.

The band played two more songs before he saw Jade making her way toward him. He forced a smile, but as she neared he registered a change in her stride, in her posture.

Closer still, he saw more changes. Her lips drawn tight, a smudge of black under one of them. She looked at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as she neared.

“Take me home.” Gone was the hopeful lilt to her voice.

He stood, touching her arm. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She shrugged away. “Just take me home!”

A pink flush bloomed on her cheeks. Her bloodshot eyes flitted to and fro.

Beckett led her through the maze of tables, his mind turning. What had happened since she’d left? Scarcely ten minutes had passed.

Outside, sudden silence fell around them like an itchy blanket. Should he press her? Leave her alone? He was no good with teary women. Never had been.

The cab vibrated with tension, the silence broken only by her sniffles. He couldn’t let her go until he got to the bottom of it.

He pulled onto Main Street, darting a glance at her as she knuckled a tear off her cheek. “Did someone upset you?”

“Just leave me alone, Beckett,” she said through clenched teeth.

But he couldn’t. He was responsible for her. She was his date, accidental or not. “If someone bothered you, I want to know. Was it a guy?”

Had someone manhandled her? He felt a surge of protectiveness—the kind he’d feel if someone hurt Layla. He stopped at a red light. “If someone hurt you, tell me, and I’ll take care of it.”

“You can stop with the act already! I know you wanted Madison, not me, so you can just take your false concern and shove it!”

How had she found out? Beckett bit back a word he hadn’t said in years. “Jade—”

Jade turned toward her window, wiping tears. “Just take me home! This is the most humiliating night of my life.”

The light had turned green. Beckett accelerated. His sister was the only one who knew. Could she have said something in the bathroom to her friend and Jade overheard?

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t deny it, so he said nothing. The short drive to Madison’s house took an eternity. He felt only relief when he saw that Madison’s car wasn’t in the drive. Maybe Jade wouldn’t tell her sister that Beckett had come to ask
her
to the banquet. As soon as the thought surfaced, his stomach turned at his selfishness.

He shut off the ignition and reached for the door handle.

“Don’t bother,” Jade said, then slammed her door.

He’d watched her enter the darkened house, feeling like the mucky stuff at the bottom of the Ohio River. It was the last time anyone saw her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
HE BASSET HOUND SQUIRMED IN
M
ADISON
’
S ARMS AS HER
heels clicked on the sterile tile of Countryside Manor’s hallway. She passed Mrs. Doolittle’s station, and the nurse glared at the pup over her bifocals.

“Hello, Mrs. Doolittle.”

“Hmph.”

If it had been up to the nurse, Madison wouldn’t be bringing “filthy animals” into the center at all. Thankfully, Mrs. Doolittle didn’t have the final say.

Madison dropped a kiss on the pup’s warm fur, and he raised his bright brown eyes to hers. “You’re not filthy, are you, sweetie?”

The hound wouldn’t be long at the shelter, with his adorable puppy looks and frisky ways. Her elderly friends were going to love him.

She entered the rec room and found her favorite group of ladies in the far corner, their knitting needles flying almost as fast as their mouths. Known as the Kneeling Nanas, they’d started as a morning prayer group that evolved to include evening knitting. Despite their name, Madison was sure a few of them hadn’t a prayer of making it to their knees, much less making it back up. Nonetheless, they were a lively bunch.

“Hello, ladies! I brought a visitor.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Geiger said. “He’s just a pup—aren’t you a handsome fellow.” She set down her knitting, reached for the dog, and pulled him against her ample bosom. He licked her fleshy cheek, making her laugh.

“Why does she always get to be first?” Mrs. Etter’s needles clacked as she worked them with spry fingers.

“Because she sits nearest the door, silly.” Mrs. Stuckey poked her plastic-framed glasses into place. “He sure is cute.”

“Achoooooo!”
Mrs. Marquart’s needles went flying as she covered her sneeze. “I’m allergic, remember?” Her project fell to the floor as she stood, reaching for her walker. The sneeze had knocked her auburn wig slightly askew.

“Oh, sit down,” Mrs. Geiger said, passing the dog on. “You’re allergic to cats, not dogs.”

Mrs. Marquart frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Madison said, discreetly straightening the woman’s wig. “Remember the spaniel? He fell asleep in your lap.”

Mrs. Geiger snorted. “Then
you
fell asleep.”

“We should’ve taken a picture and put it on Facepages,” Mrs. Stuckey said.

“Face
book
.” Mrs. Etter dropped a kiss on the pup’s head. “He’s darling. Is he spoken for?”

“We’re not allowed pets.” Mrs. Stuckey had resumed work on an infant sweater, for one of her great-grandbabies, no doubt.

“My grandson Perry is looking for a dog for his kids. I think they’d love this little guy.”

“He’s available, but not for long, I’d guess,” Madison said. “Talk it over with Perry, and let me know soon if they’re really interested. He’s potty trained and has all his shots.”

“Oh, you’re just perfect, aren’t you, sugar baby?”

“Still no word from your sister?” Mrs. Stuckey asked Madison, her fingers flying.