All for Maddie (2 page)

I rolled over and looked at
the neon green clock beside my bed. Wow, it was almost nine. Maddie never slept
this late. I rose up to see where she was. Oh no, she was in the kitchen. She
wasn’t sleeping in at all. I knew what she was doing.

“Madelyn Rae Bradshaw!” I
yelled.

“I did cook, Mommy,” Madelyn
announced, twisting her pajama shirt nervously around her fingers.

“You did make a mess! What is
this?” I asked, looking in the bowl of Fruity Pebbles, milk, pancake syrup,
ketchup, and either mayonnaise or ranch dressing. I wasn’t sure which.

“You can eat it,” she
offered.

“I should make you eat it.”

“My fingers all sticky,” she
stated, spreading her little fingers for me to see.

“The whole kitchen is all
sticky. GO!” I demanded. “Get your butt in the bathtub before I spank your
little bottom.”

“Papaw be mad,” she assured
me as her little feet pitter patted across the hardwood floor.

“I’ll spank him too,” I
threatened. She laughed at the thought of her papaw getting spanked.

I started the bath water for
my sticky little girl and lifted her shirt over her head. She slid out of the
pull-up and I felt it.

“Maddie! You didn’t pee the
bed. YAY!” I clapped. “Good girl.”

She giggled. “I free,” she
smiled, trying to hold up three fingers. Why did little kids always try to hold
up the awkward fingers? “I have a party a day.”

“No, not today. Next month,”
I said, lifting her to the warm water. How do you explain a month to a three
year old? We had been playing that game every day since my dad told her she was
going to be three and have a birthday party. She had been three every day for
two weeks now.

“Papaw buy me a tire for my
birfday.”

“What the hell is he buying
you a tire for,” I asked, unable to stop my bad word before responding. She
would tell my dad later. I was sure of it.

“I wing on it,” she
explained.

I shook my head and walked
out to clean up the mess. I watched her from across the open living area,
trying to talk her My Little Pony into washing his hair. It wasn’t funny. I
would be doing the same thing as soon as I went in to bathe her. She hated
getting her hair washed. It was a job and a half, every freaking time. And,
trying to get her to let me brush it out was just about as bad.

I was right. She screamed at
the top of her lungs when I gave up and dumped the cup of water over her head.

“It burns my eyes!” she
cried.

“It’s not burning your eyes,
Maddie. I told you to hold your head back,” I scolded as I dumped the next cup
full of water, trying to get the baby shampoo that was not burning her eyes
rinsed from her hair.

“There see, you’re all done.
Come on, let’s go see Papaw,” I coaxed, trying to calm her cries. That would do
it. She loved her papaw like no one else, even more than me I sometimes
thought.

“I feed a fish,” she assured
me, remembering the stupid, stupid fish aquarium in the dining room that she
and my dad had gone out and bought. I hated that thing. I was the one who had
to clean the damn thing out when she dumped the whole canister of food or
decided that fish didn’t like fish food anymore. They liked hotdogs, macaroni
and cheese, chicken fingers, French fries, oh yeah, and tomato soup. The girl
was a fish murderer and you couldn’t get it through her thick skull that she
couldn’t feed them her food. My dad would just go out and buy more fish to keep
her from figuring out that Spunky, Nemo, and Charlie weren’t dead. They were
only sleeping and would magically wakeup the next day, right after I cleaned
the damn thing out, again.

“Your clothes are on your
bed. You go get dressed, while mommy gets ready and we’ll go see Papaw.”

“I drive, K?” she asked as
her naked little butt walked out of the bathroom to find her clothes.

“Yes, you can drive,” I
agreed. She thought she was hot stuff driving our golf cart up the dirt path to
the guests’ quarters and dining room.

“That is not what was on your
bed,” I assured her, glancing at the time on my cellphone. I didn’t have time
to fight with her. I had to open up the main gate in ten minutes. She was just
going to have to wear the ridiculous outfit that she took upon herself to pick
out. Ms. Independent couldn’t just put the normal jean shorts and purple
tank-top on. No, she had to wear the purple tutu with white leggings covered in
red strawberries, zebra print shirt, and cowboy boots. At least the red cowboy
boots matched the red strawberries.

“I not wike dem clothes,” she
assured me, heading out the door in front of me. I tugged on the back of her
tutu to cover her butt, shaking my head as I locked up.

Parking the golf cart around
back of the dining room, I walked in with my obstinate daughter through the
kitchen.

“Hey Jaron, can you drop me a
bagel down? I’m running late,” I asked the main cook.

“As soon as I hug this pretty
little girl,” he smiled and squatted. Maddie ran into his arms and he kissed
her cheek. “You look pretty,” he told her.

“I know,” Maddie modestly
responded. “I have a go find my Papaw. I have a feed a fish,” she said,
squirming from his arms.

“Great, Jaron. Encourage
her,” I spat as I followed Maddie to find my dad.

“Papaw!” she yelled, running
to my dad, speaking to some guests who were enjoying their breakfast.

He picked her up and kissed
her cheeks too. “There’s papaw’s baby girl. What are you wearing?” he asked
with a frown, seeing her outfit.

“I pretty,” she assured him.

“You are pretty,” he agreed,
kissing her cheek again.

“Mommy say me hideous,” she
tattled.

“I’ve got to go. You got
her?” I asked, catching the dirty look from my father.

“Yes, go. I’ll bring her to
you at nap time.”

Great, that was when she was
at her best. Whiny, tired, and meaner than a rattlesnake. I couldn’t wait.

I unlocked the front door
just in time for the guests to start arriving. Fridays were always crazy, with
getting the reservations checked in for the weekend and sometimes the entire
week.

“Good morning, welcome to
River Resort. I’m Whitley,” I smiled, letting the couple in.

“Hi,” the man spoke. The
female didn’t want to be there. I could tell, saw it all the time. She would
have rather been spending her vacation someplace besides the river fishing.

“Last name?” I asked,
answering my cellphone with the touch of a button. I left it on the counter,
not picking it up. I saw that it was Kylie. I didn’t want her to hang up. I
needed to talk to her. This would only take a minute anyway.

“Hunter, Richard Hunter,” the
man replied as I quickly typed in his arrival and handed him a key. “You’re in
cabin 18. If you follow the wooden arrows straight and then to the left, it’ll
take you right to it. Have fun and thanks for visiting.”

I waited until the guy and
his wife, or whatever she was, left before picking up my phone. “You there?” I
asked Kylie.

“Richard Hunter is there?”

“You know him?”

“Are you serious, Whitley? He
was at that party when we sneaked out and went to Alex Wesson’s house. Remember?
Tess and he were practically doing it in the pool.”

That was a night that I
didn’t want to remember. “I was so drunk that night, I didn’t know my own name.
You expect me to remember some teenager, at a party almost four years ago?”

“How could you forget? That
was one of the best nights of my life. And if I remember right, you have
nothing to complain about either. Remember, how Alex was all over you?”

That was an understatement.
“No, not really. We still getting together next weekend? I need a Maddie
break,” I admitted, wanting off the subject of Alex Wesson. I hated that name.

“How could you need a Maddie
break? You have got to have the cutest kid in the whole entire world.”

“Keep her for a week,” I
threatened, although she was right. I did have the cutest kid in the world.
Maddie was so darn cute. She knew it too. That caused a little bit of trouble
with her getting her way with everyone that came within two feet of her. Maddie
had the same dark hair as me, but that was about it. Hers was a little lighter
than mine. She must have gotten the rest of her cuteness from her sperm donor,
not to mention her brains. That kid had to be the smartest almost three year
old around. She didn’t miss anything, nor did she forget. That part usually
worked against me when she tattled to my dad, the things that I said.

“I would.”

“And you would be calling me
in three hours for me to come and get her.”

“I would not.”

“Uh-huh, getting cold feet
yet?”

“I’ve had cold feet. I’m
getting married, Whitley. Who would have thought? I’m like freaking out here.”

“You’re going to be a great
wife, and you picked a pretty great guy. Aaron loves you.”

“But, do you think it’s too
soon. I mean what if it doesn’t work out?”

“Stop it; you’ve been
together for three years. You’ve lived with him for what, six months now?”

“I know, but I just got my
degree like three months ago, maybe we should have waited another year or so.”

“Why, so you could prolong
your freaking out for another year?”

“Good point.”

“I have to go, Kylie. Another
guest just pulled in to check in. I’ll call you later, and I cannot wait for
your bachelorette party. I need to get good and drunk.”

“And you will, promise. Talk
to you later.”

“See ya.”

The weekend guests continued
to pour in throughout the morning. The summer months were always like that at
The River Resort. We were booked clear up until October. That would fill up too,
within the next couple of months. November would slow down, and then Christmas
week would be booked solid. January and February were the two slow months of
the year. That was when everything got cleaned from top to bottom, maintenance
and repairs, and all the bedding would be replaced with new.

My dad brought Maddie to me
just after lunch. I could tell as soon as he walked in holding her hand she was
tired.

“Hi, baby,” I said, picking
her up and putting her right back down.

“Why didn’t you tell Papaw
you had to potty?” I said, pulling her hand toward the bathroom.

“I not have a potty,” she
assured me.

“That’s because, you went
potty in your pants. You’re going to be three soon. You can’t pee your pants
anymore.”

“I be free amorrow.”

I didn’t reply. It wouldn’t
have done any good. I would just be explaining it again the next time I
mentioned her birthday. “Did you eat lunch?”

“I did have ice cream,” she
replied. I only shook my head. Sometimes my family didn’t have the brains that
God gave a goose.

I washed her up and slid her
into a pair of purple sweats, placing the wet tutu and leggings in a plastic
bag. I turned cartoons on for her and covered her up on the sofa behind the
counter. She whined about not being tired and that she wasn’t taking a nap. I
assured her that she didn’t have to sleep, and that she could just watch
cartoons. She was sound asleep in five minutes.

“Will you work the dining
room tonight?” My dad asked, flipping through the mail.

“No, it’s my weekend off.
Why? Who’s not coming?”

“Naomi, she has to go home
for a funeral. And technically, it’s not your weekend off. You’re taking next
weekend off to go to Lincoln, remember?”

Well, shit.

“Fine, but I’m out of there
at nine. I’m not staying to help in the kitchen.”

“That depends on where Maddie
ends up.”

“Maddie is going home with me
tonight,” I demanded.

“Dana Ray!” My step mom
called, with her hand on her hips.

“What’d I do now?” he asked,
turning to my step mom, who was also called Dana. She was just Dana and my dad
was Dana Ray. Why you would ever marry someone with the same name is beyond me.

“Where are you supposed to
be?”

“I don’t know,” he assured
her with a peculiar look.

“The electrician is in 48,
waiting for instructions.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll see you in
the dining room,” my dad said, turning to me.

“Can’t wait,” I called.

I really didn’t mind the
dining room. I made good tips, and it meant that I didn’t have to cook for
picky Maddie. Jaron could deal with her mind-changing on what she wanted to
eat.

I didn’t have to work the
dining room long. Dana took over because, Madelyn decided to be the biggest
brat ever. I knew she was going to be that way. She only napped for maybe twenty
minutes and had done nothing but whine since she woke.

She fed the fish potato
chips, slid a stool to the fountain machine and made one hell of a mess, dumped
a bowl of sugar, and screamed a shrill ear-piercing scream when I wouldn’t let
her have hot sauce on her fries. 

I dealt with her screaming at
the top of her lungs while I washed her hair. I had just washed it that morning
and wouldn’t have tempted it, had it not been matted together from sticky ice
cream, or whatever it was that my dad had given her.

I couldn’t wait to go to
Lincoln for a couple of days. I needed it. It would be the first time since I
turned twenty-one that I would be able to sit in a bar and buy my own alcohol.
I was looking forward to it in a big way. Having a baby before your eighteenth birthday
took a toll on your social life. Reed McCauley helped with that, but I knew
nothing would ever become of that. He didn’t like Madelyn. Well, I guess he
liked her just fine. He just didn’t like her bratty ways and the fact that
everyone around her gave into her.

 He was right; however there
wasn’t much I could do about it. I tried. It didn’t do one bit of good for me
to correct her, when my dad and every last one of the staff gave her what she
wanted. If they didn’t, she would throw herself to the floor and scream until
they did. Reed couldn’t handle that. We ended up arguing when the two of them
were together. It was better to keep things the way they were.