Finding Madelyn

Finding Madelyn

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inding

Madelyn

By

Suzette Vaughn

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the author’s imagination, fictitious or use fictitiously. Any resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright

2011
by
Stacy Castanedo

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any format.

First
edition published January 2011
.

All production design are trademarks of Suzette Vaughn.

For information regarding bulk purchases of this book, digital purchase and special discounts, please contact the
author at [email protected]

Cover design by Stacy Castanedo

Manufactured in the United States of America

I dedicated this to my grandmothers and grandfathers. For a generation of men and women
of
who
m
I stand in awe of what they’ve seen change over their lifetimes. A generation who knew what it was to be an American. For those that stood with dignity and grace. Who knew what is was to be young and still responsible.

~Suzette Vaughn

One

February 1947…

They found her. Galen Langley boarded the twin-engine airplane with her picture in his pocket. His brother, Harland, had called the plane ‘The Silver Bullet’
with a smirk on his face
. Galen hoped he would calm down once inside the belly of the beast, hoping it would be different to be in one rather than having them fly overhead. Still his stomach was doing flips.

The best thing he had to focus on was finding the girl in the photo. He didn’t need the visual confirmation. Madelyn was one girl no one could forget. Especially in his family. Especially him.

Which was probably how they’d found her. Some bent
guy must have heard they were still looking for her. Someone she wouldn’t look at twice. Someone she had refused to dance with and
,
being put of
f
,
he provided them with a picture and a town. Madelyn Murphy was good at causing trouble and he was sure the coast of Maine was no different from Washington.

One propeller of the Boeing aircraft started around
while
t
he other side seemed to be having problems.

Harland had warned him of such before he left. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Easy enough for him to say.
Harland’s heart wasn’t pulling him in different directions.

Even with his brother’s advice, he wanted to run off the plane as he pushed his glasses onto his nose. His brain wasn’t far behind with the order to exit the plane when the second propeller caught. The only thing that got him on the plane was his father’s threats.

“When I get my hands on that girl she’ll wish she were dead.” His dad’s hand had struck the desk in his st
udy, the vein in his head pulsed
.

Galen still looked him straight in the eye, realizing how much he had grown to match him physically,
perhaps
even surpass
ing
him. His eyes were
those
of his mother, the rest was pure Fredric Langley.

He ran a trembling hand through his military-cut light brown hair. Fredric was not someone you crossed. He and Madelyn were living proof of that, though maybe not living for long. For three years, his father had been searching the country
for her
, wit
h the pay off coming last week;
the man was well paid for the picture in Galen’s pocket.

In the picture, her hair curled in loose locks, her eyes smiling at the man sitting at the counter of the restaurant. That was an issue in itself. Insult added to the injury
,
of the name Langley
,
spread across the coast and now across the country. No one would leave the family to be a “self-made-woman”, more words of his
father’s. Even with so many wome
n stepping up to fill in the working class since
the
w
ar
started
,
he didn’t embrace the change.

Galen’s stomach lurched as the plane left the earth
. T
here was no looking back. Find Madelyn, bring her home and his reward was simple.

He stepped off the bus
,
buttoning his coat up tight and securing his hat from the costal winds. He would have to find a better way t
o travel when he left. Possibly
have a car sent for him. Sitting on a dirty bus with dirty people was not his ideal way to travel. He’d take the plane over that
,
but he’d left Washington so quickly that he wasn’t able to plan better. He’d been filthy long enough in this life and didn’t want to go back. Wouldn’t go back.

North Perry, Maine sat just off the water, a fishing community much like home. Madelyn loved the water
.
I
t made sense that they found her here. The question was, would she still be here? If she were smart, she would be long gone. T
here was no doubt she was smart.
H
er
stubborn side might cause her more problems in this case.

The town’s main drag was little more than one street. It shouldn’t be hard to find the diner. It was just after six, with the sun coming up. The diner should be the only thing open.

He walked down Main Street noticing how much the little town
mirrored
home, smaller but still the same basic fiber. Brick buildings lined either side
. T
rucks and rusting jalopies were parked along the edge of the street, all belonging to the working class.
He personally liked
Fredric’s
choices of automobiles, that was one thing they kept in common as he grew up
.

He was right. Light poured out of a huge double window on the
corner,
with music and voices filling
the street as a lady went in the door. Not sure if he should go in, he stared through the window. Red gingham curtains were pulled tight in the lower part of each pane. Two waitresses in red and white striped knee-high skirts worked the tables. Each of them wore a red kerchief on
her
head to keep
her
hair back. Neither of them
was
Madelyn.

The silver stools at the counter were covered in red vinyl, the booths upholstered in the same style.
The same kitchen window as in the picture on the side wall bolstered his spirits.
Almost every seat was full of patrons pushing down toast, eggs, bacon, and sausage. His stomach protested at looking though the window any longer.

He set his hat on the counter and his suitcase by the wall. Glances passed his way but none lingered. It would be impossible for someone to come into a small town like this and not be noticed. If Madelyn had skipped out before he got here, someone would know she passed through. Someone would probably know which direction she went.

“Hey Maddy, where’s my bacon?”

The man’s deep voice yelled toward the kitchen window from his seat at the counter. His hand engulfed the small glass as he took a drink of orange juice. This was a mammoth of a man
,
but the name he said was the reason Galen couldn’t turn away.

Maddy
. No one at home had called her that since she
matured
.

“Now Hollis,” the door next to the kitchen window swung open, “how am I supposed to hear Glenn Miller playing to me with you yelling like that?”

The big man, Hollis, laughed as she slid the plate of bacon on the counter. Then she moved down the line, sliding more plates in front of customers.

“If you’d bring my bacon out with everything else, I wouldn’t have to yell. Now would I?” He took a big bite of the pork in question.

“And if you didn’t order so much food, it’d all come out at the same time. If you don’t like the service, go home.” Smiling, she pulled out the coffee pot and filled the older man’s coffee cup next to Hollis.

“Come now, no one likes the service.” He chuckled back.

Maddy walked his way. Red trousers instead of the skirt the other girls wore. The same red striped shirt and kerchief, with her soft deep brown curls falling out around the edges framing her face. Her lipstick matched the outfit, the upholstery and looked damn good on her. She looked better than he remembered, and far better than the picture portrayed.

She set the menu on the counter without looking at him. He ignored it. She hadn’t changed. The clothes maybe. The hair style, sure. And maybe she was smiling just a little more.

“What can I do for you?” Her coffee brown eyes finally connected with his, the smile dropping. “Go home, Galen.”

“Can’t do that, Madelyn.” He made his voice as strong as he could while she
spun
away, back through the kitchen door.

Nothing took the girl by surprise but somehow, him sitting there had. How had she not known he would be coming? If not him, then someone else would have. The person who took the photo must have been more than bent.

The door was still swinging when he glanced around the counter. Two of the men, one being Hollis, had put down their forks and were trying to stare him down. If his father’s voice wasn’t ringing in his ears, it might have worked. Instead, he looked to the menu.

One of the girls in a skirt picked up an order from the window and nodded through. Just because he looked like he was studying the menu, didn’t mean he wasn’t watching. The others had picked up their forks but were paying as much attention to him as he was to the kitchen.

She couldn’t stay back there forever.

“Did you decide what you would like?” A waitress was now blocking his view. Her name tag was in his face.

“Everything looks so good, Darla. I’ll take whatever
Maddy
cares to send out.”

Darla didn’t like that answer as her eyes rolled with her body back toward the kitchen. More whisp
ering through the window ensued.
Darla didn’t let on to the other side of the conversation
other than a shrug
, followed by a cup of coffee placed on the counter before him.

“Thank you,
”
h
e sipped, ignoring the reminder of the color.

A booth emptied and filled. A lanky man came in and sat next to Hollis, whispers exchanged, looks glanced his way. The only thing he could do was return a smile, hoping the natives were tame.

Coffee was refilled for all but him. He almost laughed, knowing Maddy wasn’t coming back out of the kitchen while he sat there, but she could at least send him food.

He finished the coffee
and put his hat back on, tossed
a few coins on the counter before heading for the door.

Turning back around, “Can anyone tell me where the inn is?”

The question was met with silence, not even a look from a customer.



The diner kitchen was little more than a duel sink, stove, oven, and ice chests. Maddy was always comfortable in the small space, but for once, it felt like the walls were closing in around her.
Even if she’d had a back door, she couldn’t slip out of i
t and leave her customers with no
cook
.

Instead, s
he stood over the griddle, holding tight to the counter on either side. There was no way she could stay in the kitchen until Galen gave up and went home. Even if she could, Fredric would just send someone else. The thought sent a cold chill to her bones.

For three years
,
she dreamt of it almost nightly, someone showing up and dragging her back to Washington. Galen was the last one she expected, though there had to be some reason it was him. Perhaps he’d grown a backbone. But if he had, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. He’d have told his daddy no.

She waited a full two minutes after he’d gone out the door before sticking her head over the window, only to come eye to deep brown eye with Frank.