Barefoot Summer (22 page)
Evan’s voice greeted her when she answered the phone. “Thank God I caught you.”
“What’s wrong, Evan?”
“I got a call from my mom in Georgia a couple hours ago. My dad was in a car accident. I’m heading to the airport now.”
The regatta
, she thought, and immediately felt guilty. “I’m so sorry. Is it serious?”
“We don’t know much yet. He’s unconscious. Madison, I don’t know if I’ll make it back for the regatta.”
Only three days away . . . What if he didn’t make it back in time? She couldn’t win the race without him. She’d be lucky to finish at all. And she’d never find a replacement. The sailors had settled their crews long ago.
She pushed aside the thoughts. “Never mind that. You go be with your dad. I hope everything works out.”
“I have some numbers for you. A couple of retired sailors who might help you out if I don’t make it back in time. I’d suggest Beckett, but I know how he feels about sailing with a crew. And I guess he’s hoping to score that prize money. Have a pen and paper?”
She couldn’t believe he was thinking about her at a time like this. “Go ahead.”
She jotted the numbers down. She’d call them and line something up just in case.
M
ADISON CLEATED THE BOWLINE AND STOOD, BRUSHING
back the hairs that had escaped her ponytail. Evan had called that morning. His father was conscious, and they were awaiting test results. Things looked good though, and he’d booked a flight back late tonight on the nonstop from Atlanta.
She had called the two retirees yesterday. One couldn’t sail because of his rheumatoid arthritis, and she was waiting on a return call from the other. But it didn’t look as though she’d need him.
Beckett had driven to Louisville for the motor part and had finished the repairs this morning. She’d thanked him profusely. The boat had performed great on the river tonight.
Unfortunately, Madison hadn’t. Her dry runs through the course had been difficult—and there weren’t other boats littering the water like there would be tomorrow.
“I did awful.” She tucked the stern line under the cleat, making it fast.
Beckett hopped from the boat to the dock. “You may as well put your perfectionist tendencies aside now. There’s no such thing as a perfect race.”
“I’m not a perfectionist.”
He shot her a look.
“Okay, maybe a little, but that last turn . . . ugh. There’s so
much to this—and I’m not focusing well.” She followed him up the dock.
“Focus is critical, but it’s not supposed to be this breezy for the race. Look, you’re going to make mistakes tomorrow. Everyone will. The key is to put them from your mind right away. Don’t dwell on them. Keep a positive attitude. You know the basics, and Evan will help with the rest.”
“As long as he makes it back.”
“You said he booked a flight.”
“You’re right. I’m just stressing out. What else?” she asked.
“It’s not a bad idea to follow a good racer. Do what they do. That’s what I did my first several races. I got third place one year doing that, and I learned a lot.”
“Who should I follow?”
“Me, of course.”
She laughed and smacked his arm. “Something tells me Evan isn’t going to be following anyone.”
“And doesn’t really need to. Just remember, the race is built on handicaps. You won’t be in the lead, not with a Folkboat, so don’t panic.”
Easier said than done. She just wanted to win and have it over. She was ready to move on with her life. Ready to put the regatta—and everything else—behind her. She couldn’t believe the race was tomorrow. Her stomach knotted at the realization.
She palmed her stomach as she reached her car. “I’m already nervous.”
“You’ll be fine.”
She turned at her car door. Darkness was falling, and the cool breeze felt good against her heated skin. Beckett’s hair was windblown, a strand hanging down in his eyes.
“Thank you, Beckett. For the lessons, swimming and otherwise. I couldn’t have done all this without you.”
“You would’ve found a way. Glad I could help though.”
“At least let me pay you for the motor repair.”
He waved her off. “It was a cheap part. Besides, least I could do after whaling on your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. We only went out a few times, you know.” She leaned back against the car door. “Besides, I ended things recently—not sure if you heard.”
He leaned forward, his arms on both sides of her, a smug smile forming. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
She held back a grin. “Well, see, some other guy kissed me, so . . .” She left off with a shrug.
His lips twitched. “And you liked it.”
“Maybe.”
He leaned closer. “In fact, you liked it so much, you want him to kiss you again.”
“I might not turn him down.”
He was a breath away, too far. His eyes grew serious, the corners of his lips falling. Then they brushed hers, softly, slowly, stealing her breath, her strength. How could the barest of touches make her insides clench, make her heart skip a beat?
He ended the kiss too soon, but he didn’t go far.
“Save a dance for me tomorrow night.”
River Sail Regatta ended with festivities at Riverside Park, including a band, dancing, and plenty of junk food.
“Just one?”
“Didn’t want to sound greedy.”
If she had it her way, she’d be in his arms the whole evening, hopefully celebrating her win. Her mind snagged on the thought.
If she won, Beckett would lose. And with the loss, the prize money he was hoping to use to launch his business. She pushed the thought away.
“You want to come over?” she found herself asking.
He checked his watch. “I’d like to, but it’s getting late. And you, young lady, need plenty of sleep tonight.”
He was right, but she didn’t have to like it. She’d review the racing rules while she waited to hear from Evan. He said he’d call when he arrived in Louisville.
He tipped her chin up. “Well . . . it’ll be chaos tomorrow, and we might not get a chance to talk before the race, so . . . good luck to you.”
“You too.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “See ya.” He gave that half smile that made her knees liquefy, and she watched him cross the parking lot.
On the way home, she forced herself to think about something else. Her feelings for Beckett had grown exponentially, but there would be time to reflect on that after the race. She wondered if Jade had feelings for him too. She hoped not. Last thing she wanted to do was hurt her sister. She wished Jade could be here tomorrow. Each member of her family had called today, wishing her luck, telling her they’d be there cheering her on. Everyone but Jade.
PJ had made poster-board signs, and her mom had brought her Michael’s favorite hat, a white cap with a blue embroidered anchor. He’d worn it all the time, and Madison was planning to wear it for the race.
When she opened the door, Lulu greeted her enthusiastically, then went to scope out the yard. While the dog was outside, the phone rang.
The caller ID showed Evan’s name. She answered and greeted him, hopeful.
“I’m sorry, Madison, but I won’t be flying home tonight. My dad took a turn for the worse. His tests are showing some brain trauma, and I really have to stay.”
“Of course you do. I’m so sorry.” Even while the words came out, words she really meant, she slumped in the kitchen chair, deflated. What hope did she have of winning now?
“I know how much this means to you. I feel terrible.” He sounded tired.
“Please, don’t give it another thought. Really. I’ll work something out.”
“Thanks, Madison. If you wouldn’t mind, say a prayer for my dad. This might be a long road for him . . . for all of us.”
“Will do, Evan. Try and get some rest.” In a haze, she turned off the phone and set it in the cradle.
She let Lulu back in and paced the kitchen. Why was this happening? She’d never win without Evan. All her work would be for nothing. She pressed her fist against the ache in her middle. The ache that swelled every time she thought of Michael. It would never go away at this rate.
Stop thinking negatively, Madison
. There had to be something she could do. Something more than depend on a Plan B that included a retiree who had probably never even placed in the regatta—not that she’d heard back from him. She ran through all the boaters she knew, ticking them off in her head, but everyone she knew was participating. It was the event of the season.
She found the number for the retiree and placed the call, but it went through to voice mail again. She left another message and hung up.
She wanted to call Beckett, but what good would that do? He had his own boat, his own race to win.
She’d just have to wait for the old sailor to return her call. She had little chance of winning, but what else could she do? She could only hope and pray it worked out somehow.
Hope and pray. She was good at the first, the second not so much. Glancing at the clock again, she made a decision. She picked up the phone and dialed a number, relieved when the feeble greeting came.
“Mrs. Geiger, it’s Madison. I wondered if I could ask a favor of you and the ladies . . . I have a couple prayer requests.”
M
ADISON FOUND HER FAMILY UNDER THE LARGE PAVILION IN
Riverview Park late the next morning. They were hard to find among the throngs of people indulging in free hot dogs, compliments of the Chapel Springs Sailing Club.
She gave PJ a kiss on the cheek, having not seen her since she left for college two weeks before. Her sister looked adorable in pink shorts and a trendy white top, a ponytail hanging halfway down her back.
“Hey, sis! Are you excited?” PJ put her hand over her heart. “Oh . . . you’re wearing Michael’s hat.”
“There’s my girl,” Dad said, handing her a hot dog as she took a seat opposite him at the wooden picnic table. “Great day for sailing, or so I hear. You ready to win this thing?”
“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked, frowning as he chewed his last bite of hot dog.
“It looks like I won’t be racing today. Evan’s still in Atlanta.”
“Oh no, sweetie!” Mom curled her arm around her shoulder, squeezing. “I’m so sorry.”
Daniel frowned. “I thought he was flying home last night.”
“There must be something you can do,” Dad said.
“We’ll find a substitute,” Ryan said.
“Already tried.” She’d found out this morning from Dottie that the sailor she’d been trying to reach was out of town.
“Hey, maybe one of us could fill in,” PJ said.
Madison tried for a smile. “Thanks, but I’m hardly an expert myself. I really need a pro to have a chance at winning.”
“Honey, if you just finish the race, that would be enough,” Mom said. “We’d all be so proud of you.”
“There you are!” Cassidy reached her side. “Hi, gang, Momma Jo.” She gave the woman a hug, then turned to Madison. “I was afraid I wouldn’t find you in— What’s wrong?”
“Evan Higgins had to bail,” Daniel said.
Cassidy’s face fell. “Oh no.”
“It’s fine. There’s always next year.” Even as Madison said it, the hollow spot inside began aching, the pressure building like a teakettle with the hole plugged. Everyone knew next year was a year too late.
“Is there anything I can do?” Cassidy asked.
Madison gave a wry smile. “Not unless you have secret sailing powers you haven’t mentioned.”
Cassidy winced. “Sorry . . .”
“Let’s just make the best of it.” Madison put on a smile as the family proceeded to munch down on the myriad of snacks available. After eating, they bought tickets for the canoe being raffled off and participated in the carnival games that lined the riverfront lawn.
The turnout was good and the event well planned, as always. Tourists had turned out in droves for the festivities, and everyone seemed to be having a great time.
The gutter boat races, always popular with the kids, were fun and exciting. The races consisted of seven-inch sailboats, two lengths of water-filled gutters, and all the lung capacity the kids could contribute. All the McKinley children had participated
when they were younger, but PJ had been the only one to win. They’d teased her for months about all that hot air.
When it was nearly noon, Madison excused herself. “I’d better find Curtis and let him know I’m out.” She’d been putting it off, she realized. Hoping that some miracle would bring another sailor along.
“I saw him down by the docks ten minutes ago,” Ryan said.
“When you’re done,” Dad said, “meet us on the lawn where it slopes up from the marina.”
Madison found Curtis on the docks, surrounded by half a dozen other entrants. She stood in line, waiting her turn.
The docks were a hive of activity, sailors getting their boats ready for departure, messing with each other. The race committee boat was already headed out. On the river, orange and white balls marked the course. Some of the sailboats had already left their slips, heading toward the start line.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. That she was going to sit on the hill with her family and watch the race she’d worked so hard to compete in. She’d let Michael down. She felt it all the way down to her bones. She took off the cap and crumpled it in her hands.
“Where were you?” Beckett asked, coming up behind her. “You missed the skippers’ meeting.”
Obviously he hadn’t heard. She gave a resigned smile. “I’m out of the race.”
His jaw went slack. “Evan’s not back?”
She shrugged. “His dad took a turn for the worse.”
“Oh no.”
She forced a smile. “I’ll be cheering you on though. I hope you win, Beckett.” She knew he could really use that prize money.
“No. You can’t just quit, Madison.”
“I don’t have much choice. It’s okay. You go win this thing.”
Twin lines furrowed between his brows. His dark eyes went intense, boring into hers for a long moment before he turned, weaving through the handful of people near Curtis.
She watched as he gently interrupted a tourist and began speaking with Curtis. The man cast a glance her way, looked down at his clipboard. Shook his head. Beckett said something else, gesturing with his hands before placing them on his hips. They continued talking another minute.
