I Know Who Holds Tomorrow (18 page)

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Authors: Francis Ray

BOOK: I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
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Gordon Armstrong was a complication she couldn't afford. He was like none of the men she had ever met. He refused to be put off. If he couldn't get results one way, he tried another. He was tenacious and he made her mouth water. A bad combination for a woman who had finally stopped dreaming of finding the right man.
Dreams meant hope, and when they shattered, you shattered right along with them.
Scared, nothing. She was petrified.
M
ANDA ENDED UP WITH seven dresses, three headbands, seven pair of socks, and three pair of shoes. Madison changed her into one of her new dresses in the truck. After putting the headband back on Manda's head four times and having Manda pull it off just as quickly, Madison gave up. “All right. You win.” She glanced across the seat at Zachary. “Where do you want to go for lunch?”
“Clint's Barbecue?”
Remembering the ice cream incident, Madison glanced down at Manda in her new yellow-and-white sundress with daisy appliques. “At least I won't have to worry about you getting barbecue sauce all over your new dress.”
“I wouldn't be so sure.” Zachary smiled at Manda. “Remember, she likes to eat what you eat.”
Reaching into the shopping bag, Madison pulled out Manda's bodysuit she'd worn to the store and ignored Zachary's laughter. “Better prepared than sorry.”
 
 
After lunch, they went to the zoo. Instead of renting a stroller, they decided Manda would feel better if one or the other held her. They wandered through the bird and small-mammals preserve, but stayed clear of the large animals.
When they left, Zachary drove them to a toy store for Manda's swing set. He insisted on taking the deluxe swing set with him. On the way back, he called two of his employees and asked them to meet him at Madison's house to help set it up. As soon as the last bolt was tightened,
he insisted that Madison and Manda have the inaugural swing. Protest was useless.
Madison sat with Manda in her arms in the two-seated swing as Zachary gently put it into motion. Manda's eyes widened, then she squealed with delight. Zachary and the two men watching laughed.
“Thanks, guys. I owe you one,” he said to the two men gathering up the tools and folding the cardboard box the swing had come in.
“You certainly helped me put together enough toys for my kids,” James said as he picked up the toolbox.
“Same here,” Thomas agreed. “See you Monday.”
“Good-bye, Mrs. Reed,” they said in unison.
“Thank you, and good-bye,” Madison said as the men departed through the wooden gate on the side of the house.
Madison stood Manda up. Faces inches apart from each other, the baby squealed with delight, then began to bounce up and down on her sturdy legs while waving her hands. Madison wore a wide smile on her face.
“I wish I had a camera,” he said.
“Don't you dare,” Madison admonished, her eyes twinkling. “Manda's hands and the wind have done a number on my hair.”
“Just makes you look more beautiful,” Zachary told her. The words were barely out before he wished he could recall them, especially when Madison's smile faded and she looked away without saying anything. He tried to think of a way to get the conversation started again and came up with nothing. Frustrated, he pushed the swing and cursed his own stupidity.
 
 
“I'm sorry if I embarrassed you earlier,” Zachary said later when they were inside the house. Madison had been quiet since they'd come in a couple of hours ago. The only time she'd spoken was an hour earlier when Gordon called to check on her. She had assured him that the newspaper article hadn't upset her. Zachary just wished he didn't have the nagging feeling that his clumsy words had. “Madison?”
Madison finally glanced up from the small washcloth she had been folding. “You didn't embarrass me.” She sighed and laid the folded cloth on top of the other trowels. “The way I look didn't stop Wes from cheating on me, did it?”
“Don't do this to yourself, Madison.” Zachary told her.
“Do you think I like doing this, thinking there was some flaw, some inadequacy in me?” With a lost look in her eyes, she made a motion as if to stand.
He caught her wrist. “The flaw was in Wes, not in you.”
“I can finish this. You should go home.”
She was shutting him out again. There was no way he was going to let that happen. Moving the folded laundry to the other side, he gently placed his hands on her arms and turned her toward him.
“Wes didn't leave you an outlet for your anger. He's not here for you to yell at, to tell him to pack his suitcase and get out of your life. Instead, he's dead and you feel guilty that you're angry at a dead man, a man who should have cherished you, loved you. Perhaps he did, but he also had a child by another woman.”
Her face filled with anguish, she tried to pull away. “Please go. I don't want to listen to any more.”
His hands tightened. “Then yell, hit, tell me off, stop holding it in.”
“No,” she choked out. The words she was thinking were too horrible to say; she felt disgust with herself just for thinking them.
“Maybe you're not the woman I thought,” he told her bluntly, his face taut.
Her head snapped up. Her eyes went from hurt to rage in a heartbeat. Zachary's words were too close to the ones she had been thinking.
She hadn't been woman enough to keep her husband faithful.
Zachary never saw the slap coming but if he had he wouldn't have tried to avoid it.
Horror washed across her face. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she rocked forward. “Please. Just go.”
He took her by the arms again and turned her toward him. “You've come too far today to give up. You didn't create this problem, but if you don't face it you'll end up hurting yourself more than Wes ever could have.” He stared at her ravaged face intently, willing her to understand. “What you feel is natural. If you hold it in you'll never be free.”
“I'll never be free anyway,” she said in a quiet voice.
“You will if you give yourself permission,” he told her. “Hell, I loved Wes, but if he were here I'd beat the hell out of him myself.”
The anger in his voice got through where kindness had failed. She finally looked at him.
“Since he's not here, what do you think would get to Wes the most?” he asked speculatively. “What if we took the scissors to his fancy suits or put his wingtips outside and let the sprinkler do a number on them? How about you letting that Franklin guy Wes was always bidding against buy his art collection below cost?” He paused and stared at her. “What could we do that would get to Wes the most?”
“Throw his golf clubs into the water hazard in the backyard,” she said softly.
The words were barely out of her mouth before Zachary was moving. “You turn the intercom in your bedroom to the backyard, then we'll go see how far those babies will travel before taking a dunk.”
He was halfway down the hall before Madison came out of her daze and followed. She paused in front of Wes's bedroom door, then made herself go in. Zachary was already coming toward her with Wes's bag of custom-made clubs. They had cost over four thousand dollars, and of course he had to have a custom bag to carry them in.
“I don't think you had time to set the intercom.” Brushing by her he went into her bedroom, looked at a peacefully sleeping Manda, then switched on the intercom. He was moving down the hall again in seconds. Madison finally caught up with him when he was going out the French doors in the den.
“You're serious?”
He looked back at her. “If it will take that haunted look off your face, I'd toss everything in his room in and if it didn't all fit, there's always the lake in the development.”
Her eyes searched his face. He meant it. Whatever it took, he'd do it for her. She couldn't remember anyone caring for her that unselfishly besides her parents and sister. How different their marriage might have been if she and Wes had cared for each other that deeply. They thought they had, but life had taught them differently. It was time she faced that fact.
Then he was moving again. Unsure what she was feeling, Madison followed. The full moon illuminated the backyard, but as they neared the practice area the motion lights Wes had installed so he could putt at night came on.
Zachary stopped at the edge of the kidney-shaped, ten- by fifteen-foot
water hazard, and looked at her expectantly. “Which one takes a dunk first?”
“Zachary, they cost a fortune.”
“I'll contribute the full amount to a charity.” He pulled out a wood iron and grunted. “Never understood why you'd pay good money for a head cover for one of these, then use it to hit a hard ball. Here.”
The iron felt cold in her hand. She stared down as light reflected off its shiny surface. Her fingers tightened. This was Wes's symbol of prestige among his chums at the country club. He'd haul them out with pride. She'd heard him brag endlessly about his golfing expertise. If he hadn't become a TV correspondent, he might have turned pro.
A golfer always took care of his clubs, he often said. She'd seen him lovingly wipe a soft cloth across the surface, fuss over them, just look at them and admire their sleek beauty. He'd cared for them, treated them with respect, even loved them while he'd walked over her and her heart every damn day.
Madison gripped the club with both hands and sent it flying. Before the sound of the splash faded, another, and another one followed.
“You lying, stinking
bastard
,” she shrilled, grabbing and throwing clubs as fast as she could. “I hate you! You had no right to have an affair, to betray me, to have a baby with another woman! Not once while I was in the hospital or after I came home did you ever say you were sorry or regretted that our baby hadn't lived! You refused to talk about her! How could you have been so cold and unfeeling? You betrayed and hurt me in the worst possible way!”
She grabbed the putter. “You loved these, and not me.”
Plunk
. Madison didn't notice tears running down her cheek or that they gleamed in the moonlight. “I trusted you. You hurt me. You bastard, you hurt me so bad.”
Tugging the empty bag from Zachary, she heaved it into the water. At the sound of the splash she sank to her knees, her tears flowing freely. “You hurt me. You hurt Manda.”
Strong arms closed around her, and pulled her against a hard chest. She inhaled Zachary's scent, felt his strength, his tenderness. “I hate him for doing this to me, for dying and leaving me to take care of his mess. He shouldn't have done that to Manda or to me,” she whispered.
The force of her tears shook her body and somehow cleared her mind
and lightened her soul. She didn't resist when Zachary pulled her into his arms and sat her on his lap. When she had no more tears, he dried her eyes with his handkerchief. Sniffing, she stared at the smooth surface of the water.
“Wes would have had a fit.”
“That he would.” Zachary's arms tightened.
She lay for a few moments longer, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against her cheek, then angled her head up. “Thank your.”
His head started to descend, then abruptly stopped. Madison wondered if he had intended to kiss her on the cheek. Suddenly shaky and not quite sure why, she quickly slipped off his lap and tried to stand. Zachary came gracefully to his feet, pulling her upright with him. No matter how many times she saw evidence of his strength and agility, it never ceased to surprise and please her.
She started toward the house on legs that grew steadier with each step. This time it was her who didn't stop until she was inside Wes's room. The king-sized mahogany bed dominated the room with its seven-foot, heavily carved headboard. Platinum arches jutted from the ten-foot four-posters and crisscrossed each other. Wes said it was a bed for a king. There had never been a place for a queen.
“I'd appreciate you helping me pack his clothes,” she said, walking farther inside. “There are several charities that could use them. His parents would probably like his personal items. We can start tomorrow, if that's all right with you.”
“I'll bring some packing boxes.”

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