Chapter 15
Madeline
Madeline pulls herself away from the window and moves to their home office—a spacious area with large windows that provide
plenty of natural light and another stunning view of the mountains. She takes a seat behind the desk made from reclaimed barn
board and taps the mouse, bringing the computer to life. She logs into their business email account and is greeted with a
flood of messages. Her stomach drops when she clicks the most recent email.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Drake,
My name is Adrian Sheehan, and I’m a journalist with the ABC World News Tonight, and I would . . .
Madeline hits Delete. After seeing the news helicopters flying overhead, she should have known this was coming. She deletes
several more interview requests from MSNBC, CNN, Reuters, and the Associated Press. Anxiety twists her gut with the realization
that the story has gone national.
There are also emails from friends, business contacts, and the equestrian riders she helps train, asking what happened and whether they are okay.
There’s an email from Sully Preston letting them know that Mia has a broken wrist, and that he hopes that Wes, Madeline, and the baby are okay, that Dix turns up safe and sound.
The words Sully chose, at first glance, seem innocuous, but Madeline can’t help sensing an undercurrent of contempt.
She shivers and wonders if Agent Saldano has spoken with Sully and Mia yet.
Absent-mindedly, she clicks on another email.
I’d like to be able to say I’m sorry for what happened to you, but I’m not. You got what you deserved, and I’m just sorry
everything didn’t burn to the ground right along with you and your baby.
Madeline pushes back from the desk as if slapped. It’s from an email address she’s not familiar with, and it’s unsigned.
The house is quiet. Too quiet. She turns on the television and is met with a panel of women discussing a huge, blown-up photo
from the gender reveal. In one hand Wes is holding his rifle in the air and the other is resting on Madeline’s pregnant belly.
They are both smiling broadly while the crowd behind them is clapping and cheering. The headline above the photo reads Gender Reveal Celebration Turns Deadly.
Before Madeline can change the channel, a video appears on the screen that shows Wes and Madeline both aiming the rifle at
the old truck in the meadow and pulling the trigger, followed by two explosions, one after the other, the second knocking
the videographer and his camera to the ground. Screams and cries fill the smoky air until the video blessedly fades to black
but then is replayed, this time in slow motion. The video credit reads Brady Lipton. Brady works at their bank in Nightjar. She wonders how much money he got for the exclusive video. The panel discussion ping-pongs
from the obsession with traditional gender norms to the wastefulness of the top two percent to a demand for accountability,
including filing murder charges against the father- and mother-to-be.
Madeline frantically presses the Off button.
Instant villains. That’s all anyone is looking for anymore.
What about the threatening email or Sully Preston?
She has to tell Agent Saldano about the emails.
She rushes to the kitchen and finds the business card he gave them.
She stares at it a long time before deciding to wait for Wes to get home.
From below comes a dull pounding, and it takes a moment for Madeline to realize that someone is knocking on the back door.
She hurries from the room and shuts the door tightly behind her, half expecting to find Lucy standing there, arms folded,
but the hallway is empty. Madeline carefully navigates the steps, holding the railing with one hand and her belly with the
other. Has the baby dropped? Johanna had explained that when this happens, it can mean the baby will be coming soon. A pang
of grief so sharp nearly sweeps Madeline’s legs out from beneath her. How will she get through the rest of this pregnancy,
labor, and the birth without Johanna? Johanna was her only friend, her confidante, and she had come to rely on her so completely
in the past several months. Of course she has Wes, but female friendship is different. There is a knowing, a comfort, and
a connection that only sisters of the soul can have, and Johanna was that sister.
The knocking continues, and Madeline picks up her pace. Breathing heavily, she opens the door, and standing in front of her
is Mellie Bauer, dressed in the same type of scrubs the hospital had given her. She tries to hold back her surprise, but it
must be written all over her face because Mellie is instantly contrite.
“I’m so sorry,” Mellie says in a rush. “The doctor discharged me, and I tried to call the number you gave me, but there was
no answer. I can go.” Mellie looks over her shoulder, and Madeline follows her gaze to a car idling in the drive. “It’s an
Uber, but I can have him take me home. I’m sorry.” She turns to go.
“No, no!” Madeline says. “Please come in.” Mellie bites her lip and looks back at the driver uncertain as to what to do.
“It’s okay, Mellie, really.” Madeline says, waving her hand at the waiting car, signaling the driver that it’s okay for them to go.
“Come on in. You must be so tired,” Madeline says, momentarily forgetting her own exhaustion.
Mellie steps over the threshold, and Madeline watches as she takes in her surroundings. It’s not the first time that Madeline
has been self-conscious about how much they have.
“You have such a beautiful home,” Mellie says as Madeline leads her to the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Madeline says. “Now, sit down. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“I’m not hungry, but a glass of water would be great.” Mellie says as she sits gingerly on one of the leather stools next
to the kitchen island.
“What did the doctors say?” Madeline asks, pulling a glass from one of the cupboards. She fills it with water from the sink,
then sets the glass in front of Mellie.
“I’m okay,” Mellie says. “Mostly stiff and sore.”
“You were lucky,” Madeline says, resisting the urge to give the poor girl a hug. She looks so small and sad. Yes, Madeline
has lost her best friend, but she still has Wes and her home and her horses. But what does Mellie have?
“Were you able to get ahold of your family?” Madeline asks.
Mellie nods, taking sip of water. “Yeah. I talked to my grandma and my brother. They’d come if they could . . .”
“It’s hard,” Madeline says. “Being so far away from home.” She remembers those first months away from home. She had just turned
eighteen and wanted nothing more than to flee the home that seemed so empty since her mother died. But once gone, she’d desperately
missed the drafty farmhouse and the bedroom she’d shared with Lucy.
Mellie nods in agreement but says nothing more, so Madeline presses on, trying to fill the silence. “Where is home?” she asks. “Is that a Southern accent I hear?”
“Uh-huh,” Mellie says. “I know I shouldn’t have shown up here out of the blue like this, but I couldn’t stand the thought
of going back to an empty apartment just yet. I tried calling,” she says again apologetically, then begins to cry.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Madeline says. “I told you to let me know if you needed anything. I’m glad you came.” Madeline pats Mellie
on the hand. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s hard to explain,” Mellie says. “I tried to talk to my grandma about what happened, but I didn’t want to make too big
of a deal about it because she’d just worry. She’s got enough going on, taking care of my little brother. I don’t really have
any friends here yet. I know some people from the catering company, but we’re not really friends, and I can’t really talk
to them about it. You know what I mean?” Mellie looks up at Madeline. “Besides they’re all freaked about not being able to
work for a while. They have enough to worry about.”
“What?” Madeline asks. “Why?”
“Katherine, the woman who owns the company, got hurt in the explosion, and her catering van was damaged. She had to cancel
a bunch of events,” Mellie explains.
“Oh no,” Madeline says. “I didn’t know about Katherine. Is she going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Mellie says. “But she hurt her shoulder and has to have surgery. She’s not going to be able to work for
a while.” Madeline lets this sink in. The ramifications of what happened seem to go on and on. “And so we can’t work. I can’t
pay my rent, and my landlord freaked out. Says I have to leave.”
“That’s awful! What about your boyfriend?” Madeline asks. “The baby’s father. If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t mind,” Mellie says. “He’s not around anymore. Couldn’t handle this.” She taps her stomach.
“Oh, Mellie, I’m so sorry.” Madeline says. Wes was so excited to find out Madeline was pregnant. So loving and attentive.
“But it’s better to find out now rather than later. It might be a blessing that he’s out of the picture.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Mellie says, wiping her eyes. “I’m not feeling so good. Do you think I could use your bathroom?”
“Of course,” Madeline says, getting to her feet and ushering Mellie to the nearest bathroom. Once the door is shut, Madeline
can hear the retching. Morning sickness, she thinks, on top of everything else the poor girl is going through. Mellie emerges
a few minutes later, pale-faced and red-eyed. “Why don’t you lie down for a few minutes,” Madeline offers.
“That’s okay,” Mellie says. “I need to figure out what I’m going to do now. I should go.”
“I insist,” Madeline says. “Morning sickness is the worst. Come on.” Mellie continues to protest as Madeline leads her to
one of the guest rooms, pulls back the covers of the bed. “Rest, Mellie. You’ll feel better after a good nap.” And before
she can stop herself, she adds, “You can stay as long as you need.”
Madeline forces herself to eat some toast, though the bread goes down like sandpaper. She gathers up their smoky clothes from