Page 24

Chapter 23

Crack up or break down

Maddie

S ammy uses the tip of her finger to slide my cell phone across the table. “Go on.” Another nudge, moving it two inches closer to me. “You can do it.” One more tiny push.

I put my hand down on top of it to prevent her from knocking it onto my lap. “Samantha,” I warn, my tone firm.

“Madeline,” she mocks back at me, flattening her tone.

I raise my chin defiantly. “You’re a brat. Do you know that?”

“Actually, she’s not,” Lettie interjects. “Sammy’s more of a—” She snaps her mouth closed, causing an audible pop. Her wide eyes rapidly morph from shocked to panicked. “Never mind. Yep. She’s a brat.” The adorable darling looks from me to my daughter and wags her finger across the break room table. “Stop being a brat to your mama.”

Sammy snort-laughs, but I barely notice due to Lettie’s bizarre reaction. The poor girl’s cheeks are so scarlet they might as well be maroon. Clearly, something here’s going over my head.

When my daughter stops laughing, she glowers at me, facetiously, of course. Far be it for my daughter to take anything seriously. “I’ll stop being a brat when my mother does what she promised.”

I huff, sawing out a jagged exhale. “I said I’d do it, and I will. Can I have a bit of privacy?”

Eager to take the out, Sue scoots her chair away from the table. “She’s right. We should step out. Phone calls are horrible enough on their own. Poor Maddie doesn’t need an audience.”

Lettie smacks her lips and hums. “Hmm. Now Susie Q, I agree with you on the call thing, because... phone calls. Shudder.” She shimmies her shoulders in a visible cringe. “However, the deal was that we’d stay until her sister answers the call and Maddie responds. Ain’t that right, Sammy?”

My daughter sells me out. The traitor. “Yep. My mom has a horrible habit of promising to make the call but then chickening out as soon as I leave her alone to do it.”

I heave a showy sigh, making myself as pouty on the outside as I feel on the inside. In response, my daughter makes duck lips at the phone hidden under my palm, wordlessly telling me to get on with it.

Over dinner last night, the topic of my sister Tilly came up. Same as every other time I think of her, tears filled my eyes, and words failed me.

And today, Sammy, Lettie, and Sue conspired to get me to call Tilly in an attempt to make peace.

Again.

I’ve tried before, but it never goes well.

Several months ago, I saw her at Leo and Sue’s wedding. Talk about a shock. I had no idea they’d even invited her. Not that I would have objected.

Tilly and I shared an awkward hug and visited briefly, keeping it cordial and superficial. After all, it was such a beautiful wedding, and neither of us wanted to taint the night with talk about long-buried subjects.

When we’d run out of inconsequential topics, she left me to mingle with the other guests, including my children. An hour later, she returned to say goodbye. We agreed to speak on the phone soon.

Turns out, neither of us were good at keeping that promise.

Prior to that encounter, it had been at least fifteen years since I’d last seen or spoken to her. Maybe more. Memories of the fateful day that severed our relationship are burned into my mind. I still feel the sting of the brand. We said so many horrible things to one another. Things we can never take back.

I miss my sister so much it’s a gnawing ache under my sternum and at the back of my throat.

They say time heals all wounds, but I’m seriously beginning to doubt that. Perhaps for others. Not for me and Tilly. I’ve put this call off due to the simple fact that I’d rather not know I’ve lost her permanently. Blessed are the unaware.

As things between Tilly and I stand now, there’s still a chance. Hope.

A minuscule amount. But some is better than none, right?

If this call ends the way I suspect it will, the hope will be gone. And where will that leave me?

The silence sits heavy now, and three sets of kind eyes stare at me expectantly.

Lettie massages my back in soothing circles. “Would you like me to dial for you? Would that help?”

Sweet child.

I force my face to impersonate a smile. “No, darling. I can do it.”

Deep breath . Here I go.

I hit the green send call button, close my eyes, and lift the phone to my ear.

My sister picks up on the third ring. “Maddie, is it really you?”

I’m momentarily speechless. Not only at the sound of her voice but also because I’m shocked she has my number saved in her phone.

I stammer, “Uh. Yes. Hi. It’s me.”

As soon as I spit that out, my lungs freeze. Since I’m holding my breath, my pounding heartbeat is the only thing I hear. Not even the girls surrounding me make a peep.

When I open my eyes, Sammy’s smiling warmly at me. Lettie continues caressing my upper back. And Sue still looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Me too, kid. Me too.

“It’s nice to hear from you,” Tilly says, sounding almost believable.

A confession leaves me in a rush. “I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”

“Sammy told me you’d be calling today. So I had a chance to get my thoughts and feelings in order.”

I narrow my eyes at Sammy. “Oh, did she now? That sounds like my daughter.” Not sure if I should be angry with her for interfering or grateful she did.

Probably the latter.

If Tilly hadn’t taken my call, it’d be years before I got the courage to try again. If ever.

“You’re welcome,” Sammy whispers, then turns to the girls. “Let’s go. She’s good now.”

Lettie inclines her head, brows arched in question. I dip my head in a grateful nod. They disappear in relative silence.

Then it’s just me, my sister, and a phone. And decades’ worth of mistakes to apologize for.

“Tilly, I’m glad you answered.”

“I’m glad you called.”

The line crackles with my frantic breathing.

She’s the first to break the silence. “How have you been?”

“Uh, well. Mostly good. A few life-threatening situations to deal with. A hit man shot me in the arm a few weeks ago. I’m about to be fired because I’ve missed so much work. I’m in love with Leo’s boss. And I’m currently stuck at Redleg Security on lockdown because the mafia is out to get us.” I pause, my mouth quirking into a sarcastic grin. “So, you know... the usual.”

“I’m gonna assume you’re joking.”

I cough out a blend of nervous and cathartic guffaws.

“Madeline, please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not kidding, Tilly.” My laughter booms, rapidly approaching hysterical territory. “I wish I was.” I gasp for oxygen, still fighting the biggest giggle fit I’ve had in years. “But it’s all true.”

Each throaty laugh removes another layer of tension from my soul.

Between my bouts of temporary insanity, I catch Tilly snickering along with me. It hits me how I never thought I’d hear her laugh again.

It’s a dreadful thing. Like a braying donkey. I’ve missed it.

Once I’m able to steady myself to speak, I start with an apology. One of many. “Sorry for cracking up that way. Things have been tense, and I really needed the laugh, I suppose. Didn’t know how much until it all just poured out of me.”

“Well, it’s like Mimi Jean used to say. It’s better to crack up than break down, right?”

“Yeah. She did say that.” I pause for a breath, fond memories of our grandmother traipsing through my mind. “Well, after dumping all my recent chaos onto you the way I did, I’m unsure where to go from here.”

“How about you start at getting shot?”

“Well, that story involves Leo’s boss and the whole mafia thing. So it’s as good a place as any to begin.”

I give her a condensed version of the events that led to me being a temporary resident of Hotel Redleg.

When I pause for a breath, her first question speaks to her concern and love for my children. “Is Sammy staying there with her husband too? What about Leo and Sue? Are they all safe?”

“Yes, they’re all here. Some of the downstairs offices and lesser-used spaces were temporarily converted into bunk rooms. And I’m staying in Alan’s office with him. He’s got a pull-out sofa in there. No one leaves unless they have lots of backup. Everyone’s guarded and well-protected. I feel incredibly safe here.”

And a little trapped. But hey, at least I’m alive, right?

“Well, that’s a relief.” Her tone shifts abruptly. “Hang on a second. Wasn’t Leo’s boss one of his groomsmen? The one they call Big Al?”

“Yes. That’s Alan. You remember him?”

“Holy shit, Maddie. Wow .”

“ Uh ,” I start, unsure how to ask her to clarify her tone. So I just come out with it. “Was that an I can’t believe you’d date a man so important to your son type of wow? Or was it a how did you bag such a hottie kind of wow?”

“It was a holy shit, he’s hot as hell wow. Yes , I remember him. The caterer remembers him. No doubt the photographer has his pictures plastered all over her walls. Close-ups of his hands and that jawline. And those eyes. Damn . The priest who officiated the wedding is currently rereading his contract with the good Lord to see how he can give up the collar so he can live out his days as your man’s footrest. For goodness’ sake, Maddie, dolphins jumped out of the ocean just to get a glimpse of him during the ceremony. I could go on.”

A grin splays across my entire face, pulling my cheeks until they hurt. Familiar echoes of Sammy are present in Tilly’s teasing tone. Leo got his gentleness from me, but Sammy’s snark is all Tilly. Drew’s somewhere between the two.

Thankfully, none of my children take after their monster of a father.

As his face slithers across my mind, my smile fades. Well, happiness was nice while it lasted.

“Tilly, I’m glad you approve of Alan.”

“You picked that up, did ya? What gave it away?”

My smile briefly returns. “Well, now that explanations of my recent drama are out of the way, I guess we should talk about the other stuff.”

She releases a sigh strong enough to crackle the phone line. “As much as I’d love to pretend there’s nothing else to discuss, we’ve done that long enough, haven’t we?”

“We sure have. At the expense of so many years. We’ve both missed so much.” I pause when my voice begins to quiver.

Tilly must misinterpret my silence as me waiting for her to apologize. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Maddie, I never should have said the things I said. I’m so sorry for how things ended. I regret it all the time.”

“No, Tilly, I didn’t stall to force you into an apology for that. I was just trying to figure out what to say first.”

“That doesn’t change my apology. I meant it, and it needed to be said. I never should have been so hateful. You needed me, and I was so cruel to you.”

“You were protecting yourself and your family, something I never could do for mine. I’d sucked you into my own trauma time and time again, putting you and your kids in danger. It was unfair of me to abuse your generosity that way.”

“Although I couldn’t open my home to you in those situations any longer, I didn’t have to cut you off entirely. I should’ve done more to help you get back on your feet or protect you. Made phone calls. Helped you find resources. Given you money for a hotel. Or just let you cry to me on the phone when you needed to. But I didn’t do that, and I’m so sorry.”

Those situations.

Like when Travis would threaten my life or my children’s lives. So I’d run and hide at Tilly’s farm.

And he’d eventually follow.

It was fine when Tilly’s husband was there to scare him off. He supplemented the income from their modest blueberry farm in the off-season by working as a commercial fisherman, which took him away from home for long periods. Unfortunately, he was gone on that fateful day. The day that changed everything for me and my sister.

I’ll never get over what happened when Travis showed up to collect me. I’m sure Tilly won’t either.

My eyes water as the memories assault me. The fear and panic. The regret. The shame. The begging.

The gun.

I blink through the tears and choke out, “You were scared, Tilly. Of all people, I know what it’s like to fear that man. I don’t blame you for what you did to protect yourself and your kids.”

“But I blamed you,” she counters. “That’s what I’m most sorry for. Because it wasn’t your fault. What Travis did to me was never your fault. Nor was what he did to you and your kids.”

I want to believe her. I want it so badly I can taste it.

The conversation I had with Alan the other night replays in my psyche, pushing me closer to taking her words at face value.

Yet the vision of that gun cocked at my sister’s temple will never leave me.

When she went out to the front yard to send him away, the broom she had with her was no match for him. He knocked it out of her hand, smacked her across the face with it, then pulled out a gun and put it to her head. Marched her into the house and screamed for me to come out.

Even when I did, he didn’t release her for a long time.

Made her promise never to give me shelter again, threatening the lives of her children if she should dare to defy him. And if she called the cops, I was as good as dead.

She had no choice but to cut me off.

“I should have never stayed with him after that, Tilly. Never. How can you ever forgive me?”

Her answering sigh is filled with anguish, mirroring my own. “Maddie, I wasn’t under the impression that his actions that day would make you leave him.”

Through streaming tears, I ask, “Did you think that little of me?”

“Not at all. I was raised in the same home as you, remember? I recognized the hold he had on you because I lived it most of my life.”

Rather than answer, I sniffle back my tears and search for anything to relieve this pain. The festering shame and guilt.

“Maddie, sadly, I knew from the time he first struck Leo. If that didn’t send you away, nothing he did to me would be any different. To be honest, I thought Travis would take your life. I figured that would be the only way you escaped him. And I pushed you away because I couldn’t watch it happen.”

She sobs into the receiver, and I do the same. While we cry, I mutter a thousand apologies, and I mean each and every one.

Once our blubber fest eases up, I find the courage to ask about another part of our past that’s haunting me. “Tilly, I need to ask you something about our childhood.”

“So many good memories to choose from.”

Sarcastic, just like Sammy.

“I know it’s hard to talk about, but I need to know if you remember this. Because until recently, I’d blocked it out.”

“Okay,” she says tentatively.

“Do you remember hiding?”

“From Dad?”

I worry my lip, nearly breaking the skin. “Yeah.”

“Of course I do. Just last night, I pulled out a scrapbook and bedazzled pictures of my top five favorite hiding spots.”

Despite the horrid topic, she still manages to make me grin.

“Tilly, I’d forgotten how much Sammy takes after you. That’s exactly the kind of thing she’d say.”

“She’s a fantastic kid.”

“Jokes aside, do you remember if Mama told us to hide or if that was just something we did?”

“Not only did she tell us to hide, she helped us find the best spots, Maddie. She intentionally left out those big blue storage crates for us to hide in, and there were always tarps in the garage. That wasn’t an accident.”

A lone tear streams down my cheek as her words confirm my recent revelations. I don’t know why I needed her to corroborate it, but perhaps it’s because I don’t trust my memories of this crud.

Turns out, I didn’t just physically hide. I mentally shielded myself too.

“I’m surprised you didn’t remember it, but I’m sure there’s plenty of shit I’ve suppressed. Maybe on our next call, I’ll ask you something equally tragic from our youth. Deal?”

Gradually, we run out of things to rehash. I’ve apologized for my failures and weaknesses in every way imaginable. She’s apologized for slamming the door in my face and telling me she’d see me at my funeral. There’s not much else to say, and we agree we need time to process what we hashed out today.

Is it solved? No.

A single call can’t fix what’s happened.

Yet there is hope.

After we say our goodbyes, I set the phone down on the table, cradle my face in my hands, and cry. I just cry and sob. Letting everything out.

I don’t know how long I stay there, wallowing in my sadness and clinging to the glimpses of the future that might be.

A warm hand cups my shoulder, and a voice I’d know anywhere caresses my ears. “It’s only me, Maddie baby.”

He’s here. Of course he is. Because he knows I need him.

I glance up at Alan through puffy, tear-filled eyes. What I can see of his face through the curtain of moisture calls to me, offering me solace from whatever I’m suffering through.

He takes the seat beside me, squaring his body to mine. I push away from the table, crawl onto his lap, and bury my face in his chest.

I don’t care that we’re in a break room at his company. I don’t care that someone might walk in and find him comforting me like a crying child. I don’t even care that I’m probably too heavy for him.

I just need him to hold me.

And he does.