Authors: Mary Crawford

Joy and Tiers (58 page)

I know that Madison means her question to be taken as yet another example of her snarkiness. But, there is just enough of a hint of pain in her eyes that prompts it me to be brutally honest for once. I’ll probably regret this later. Hell, there is no probably about it. I
will
regret this, I can pretty much count on it.

“I lost her,” I reply, my gruff voice betraying my emotion.
Damn, it never gets any easier to say that out loud.

“What? Who did you lose?” Madison asks, her face full of confusion. “How do you lose a person?”

I carry my dishes over to the kitchen sink and rinse them off. Topping off my mug of coffee, I head to my favorite leather chair in Heather and Ty’s den. I motion for Madison to proceed in front of me.

She takes one glance at the recliner and whispers softly, “Oh, look! She rescued Grandpa’s favorite chair.” When Madison spots Ethel laying on the couch, she gasps with delight. She practically skips over and cuddles up beside her, kicking off her boots and tucking her feet underneath her. Ethel responds by plopping her big bloodhound head on Madison’s lap and thumping her tail wildly. “I missed you too, Sweetie,” she murmurs as she strokes Ethel’s long velvet-soft ears.

Well, I guess there is more to her than prickles after all. Madison glances up and notices my bemused curiosity. “What can I say? Ethel used to be my grandma’s dog. I’ve known her since she was barely bigger than my two hands. I just miss her that’s all,” she explains defensively.

“Did I say anything negative? I think it’s cute. It makes you seem almost human.”

“Almost human? What the heck do you mean by that? I’m certainly not a robot or zombie? Although after that flight, I might argue with the zombie part,” she adds with a quick grin.

I’m a little stunned by the difference in one small facial expression can make. If I thought she was pretty before, Madison with a sincere, unaffected smile is simply breathtaking.

“Well, even you can admit you’ve been giving a pretty good impression of a ticked off porcupine today.”

Madison takes such a deep long shuddering breath that I thought she might start to cry. Instead, she acquiesces. “Part of me wants to take issue with that characterization of my behavior, but the more honest part of me knows that you pretty much nailed it. I don’t suppose it would do me any good to argue that I don’t usually act this way.”

“This is America, you’re free to tell me anything you want to.”

“I can read between the lines. What you’re saying is you may not necessarily believe me, right?”

“I don’t really have enough information to make that decision right now, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“Speaking of information, you never did share the rest of your story. How exactly does someone lose a girlfriend?”

Immediately, my expression sobers and my stomach crunches painfully as it does every time. I turn to look in Madison’s general direction and choose to look at a spot on the wall right above her left ear. Experience has taught me that I can’t stare directly at people while I share my story because it just gets too intense. However, if I look away to avoid the onslaught of pity, people draw all sorts of negative conclusions, so this has become my coping mechanism.

Even though I’m trying not to specifically focus on the expression on Madison’s face, it’s impossible to miss the avid curiosity displayed there. I have a hunch that she’s sliding comfortably into investigative reporter mode as she looks at me with an expectant gaze.

Finally, I take a deep breath and swallow hard as I admit, “I lost my wife Marcy Lynn.”

“You are
married
?” Madison asks incredulously.

“No ma’am. Not anymore. Marcy Lynn is dead,” I answer, fighting the words.

Madison pales and sways slightly. “Oh no! What happened?” she asks, her tone hushed.

“The only girl I ever loved finally decided to listen to me when I told her to get the hell out of my life. That decision cost Marcy Lynn her life.”

“I don’t know if you can shoulder all the blame. There might be other factors involved you don’t even know about.” Madison tries to comfort me. I have to give her credit for trying. Most people don’t know what to say and can’t stand to even look at me after I tell them the story.

“We didn’t really have any secrets from each other.” I explain.

Madison shrugs and responds, “Everyone’s got secrets.”

“So, Madison, care to share a few of yours? You might be here for Heather’s wedding. But, I get a very real hunch that there is much more going on.”

“How can you tell?” she asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as she draws her hands and legs together and curls up into a little ball on the couch. Ethel tries to lick her hands to comfort her.

“Madison, you play the game well, I just play it better because secrets and lies are my job.”