Chapter 22
22
Audra sat on the sofa in Bettencourt Hall’s library, her long, slender legs curled beneath her, Coralee’s letter in her hand. “This is wild,” she said, fluttering the pages gently beneath her chin, fanning herself. A long, long pause followed, while she studied Madison’s face, her cornflower-blue eyes squinting a little, for any sign of what she was thinking. “Do you believe it, Mads? Do you believe Coralee actually traveled back in time?”
Madison, seated in the nearest armchair, clad like Audra in shorts and a tank top, shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I know it sounds ridiculous— impossible , given that her mind has probably been disintegrating for longer than I realize, and yet—”
“And yet?”
“My grandmother was always a practical, down-to-earth person, not given to fanciful ideas. In fact, I’d go so far as to say she was the skeptical type.”
Audra looked concerned, as well as weary. She’d had a long day, leaving Florida early that morning, enduring several flight delays on her way to Montana. “ Time travel , Mads?” she asked.
Mercifully, there was no scorn in her voice or in her manner. Just worry.
Maybe she thought Madison, who was obviously considering the possibility that Coralee had been telling the truth when she penned that strange letter, albeit with great misgiving, might be afflicted with dementia, as her grandmother had been, though of the early-onset variety.
“I know it’s crazy,” Madison fretted. She was thinking of Bliss now, not Coralee.
Briefly, she suspended all disbelief.
Had Bliss, like Coralee, slipped through some fold in the fabric of time?
The universe was an undeniably strange place, full of chaos and mystery, tumult and contradiction. Modern science could explain some phenomena in fairly concrete terms, but most conclusions were merely theoretical, weren’t they?
Who could say that time was only linear, that it could not turn back on itself, like a snake changing direction?
“I’m getting a headache,” she said.
“Not surprising,” Audra replied, setting the letter carefully aside on the nearest end table. “The journals you mentioned, the ones you had transcribed...?”
“They were Katherine Bettencourt’s. She was Coralee’s grandmother.”
“Have you read them?”
“Not yet,” Madison replied, rubbing her temples with the fingers of both hands.
Charlie, lying at her feet, a warm, furry little stumbling block, gave a low whine that might have been sympathy.
“Little wonder,” Audra conceded. “You’ve had so much going on. I was just wondering if they might shed some light on—well—Coralee’s background. What she was like as a child.”
“Katherine was dead by the time Coralee was born. Coralee’s parents were Jack and Caroline Bettencourt—she was much younger than her siblings—and as far as I know, neither of them left any letters or diaries. All I know is that they didn’t believe Coralee when she told them what happened during that afternoon garden party—or at least, her father didn’t. She didn’t mention discussing the experience with her mother, did she?”
Audra frowned, picked up the letter, scanned it quickly. “No,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean—Caroline, was it?—didn’t know.”
“True,” Madison agreed, using one bare foot to idly stroke Charlie’s silky back, in an unconscious effort to ground herself in a solid, predictable and—above all—realistic world. Finally, she sighed. “I’m sure you’re right, Audra. Things like that just don’t happen.”
Now Audra yawned, straightened her legs and planted her feet on the floor. “I’m not so sure about that. That I’m right, I mean. Bottom line, we’re probably never going to know what did or did not happen to Coralee. Or to your little friend, Bliss.”
Madison had told Audra what she knew of Bliss’s story, which was precious little. And it was Bliss’s fate that niggled at the back of Madison’s mind now; Coralee’s was already settled.
It didn’t really matter whether her story was real or made up, did it?
Moreover, if by some incredible fluke of nature, things had happened just as Coralee claimed they had, Madison wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Reminded of Coralee’s sober warning, that not believing could be not just risky, but actually dangerous, she shook her head.
If this thing really had happened to Coralee and Bliss, then it might happen to anyone. Including her.
And that was scary as hell.
As Madison considered what it would mean to be separated from the world she knew, from Liam, uncertain as things were between them, now that she’d told him about her plans to have fertility treatments, from Audra and her other friends, even from little Charlie, her stomach lurched and her knees went spongy.
And suppose her own child, the baby she intended to conceive in a Seattle fertility clinic, or those she planned to foster or adopt later, were somehow spirited into another niche in time?
A shiver trickled down her spine and then back up, and she shook it off as she rose from the easy chair, careful not to step on or trip over Charlie, and stretched, raising both hands high into the air.
Like a certain heroine, in a certain well-loved novel, Madison decided she would think about the family mystery tomorrow.
Or the day after.
Since they were both tired, she and Audra made it an early night, retreating to their rooms after a light supper and a few cups of chamomile tea.
Madison slept soundly that night, without dreaming, and she awakened rested, grateful for Audra’s presence, and mildly amused at herself for thinking, even for a moment, that Bettencourt Hall and the surrounding properties could ever be part of a Twilight Zone scenario like the one Coralee had outlined in her letter.
Coralee had clearly believed the experience had been real, and for that reason, it had been—for her. Madison felt no disrespect for her grandmother, and no pity.
She simply missed her.
She and Charlie went for a run, as usual, and when they returned, Audra was up and dressed in jeans, an apricot-colored blouse and white high-top sneakers.
“Let’s have breakfast in town,” she said, smiling over the rim of her coffee as Madison and Charlie entered the kitchen via the back door. “And then let’s sneak over to the movie set and watch for a while. Your friend Liam won’t let them chase us off, will he?”
Madison grinned, shook her head in mock amazement. This morning, her grief was lighter, more manageable, and she appreciated small graces. “You think I have sway with Liam McKettrick?” she asked.
“I know you do,” Audra replied. “Hurry up and get ready. As my old granddaddy used to say, we’re burnin’ daylight.”
Madison widened her eyes in a look of pseudo-alarm and climbed the back stairs, while Charlie, the little traitor, stayed behind to charm Audra out of a treat or two.
By the time she got back to the kitchen twenty minutes later, Madison had worked up an appetite.
Her last conversation with Liam, the night before last, had left her feeling a little off-balance. He’d said wonderful things to her, things no other man had ever said, and she’d believed him. He hadn’t exactly reacted with enthusiasm, however, when she’d told him about her plans to start treatments soon.
A small, cowardly part of her wanted to avoid him, but she knew Audra had made up her mind about visiting Bitter Gulch, probably hoping for a good look at Bram Finley, though she never would have admitted that.
Leaving Charlie behind to snooze on his bed in the kitchen, the two women hopped into Audra’s rented compact, since the Bentley seemed bulky by comparison, and headed for town.
They enjoyed a quick breakfast at Bailey’s, where they ran into Melba Summers, who had stopped by to pick up a takeout order for the crew over at the police station.
She came to Madison and Audra’s table and rested one hand gently on Madison’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother,” she said.
Madison thanked her, tearing up a little in the process, and introduced Melba and Audra to each other.
They exchanged greetings, and Madison brought up the book club meeting, which was to have been held at Bettencourt Hall in just over a week, but would need to be postponed until after Coralee’s memorial service.
Melba agreed, and then she said, “I checked on your missing friend, like we agreed. I’m afraid I didn’t find any reference to a Bliss Morgan. There was a man who squatted in that old camper you told me about, though. He was only here for a few months before he moved on. Name was recorded as Duke Morgan, and he came to a bad end, according to my rusty-dusty outdated sources. Wound up in prison on drug charges, and he died there of unknown causes.”
Madison felt a sinking sensation as she listened.
“There was no mention of a daughter?” she asked when Melba fell silent, looking sad and more than a little frustrated by the whole situation.
“None at all,” she replied. “I’m tempted to team up with Eli and his people and conduct a ground search, but it’s been so long, I doubt the dogs could catch a scent, even if that poor little girl is buried out there somewhere.”
Madison felt a strong, sudden urge to warn Melba that the area behind Bettencourt Hall was perilous, but she managed to override it.
What was she supposed to say, exactly?
Had it all been a dream?
She didn’t know. And right then, she didn’t want to think about it.
That the searchers might accidentally vanish, tromping around out there, only to find themselves in another Painted Pony Creek, in another century?
“Let me know what you and Sheriff Garrett decide,” she said instead, while Audra looked on in silence, frowning pensively.
After a delicious—and only partially eaten—breakfast of stuffed French toast, bacon and fruit, accompanied by plenty of coffee, Madison texted Liam, asking permission to stop by Bitter Gulch with Audra. She wasn’t going to just show up; sometimes the set was closed to observers, and besides, she didn’t want to come off as presumptuous.
Liam’s response, however, was both quick and friendly.
I’ll meet you on Main Street whenever you’re ready. The crew is filming in front of the church.
Madison texted back that they were on their way.
After settling up the breakfast bill, she and Audra walked to Bitter Gulch, since it was only a few blocks from Bailey’s, and Madison’s heart quickened when Liam, clad in jeans, boots and a T-shirt instead of his usual Old West marshal’s getup, leaned in to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.
He turned to Audra next, with a smile, and put out a hand. “Welcome back to the Creek,” he said. “You’re Audra, right?”
“You have a good memory,” Audra replied.
“I work at it,” Liam said.
Audra smiled, shading her eyes from the bright morning sunlight. Like Madison, she’d forgotten her sunglasses that morning. “Thanks for letting us come over,” she said. “I’ve never been on a movie set before, so this should be fun.” Then, probably remembering why she’d returned to town so soon after the last visit, she lost some of her natural sparkle. Patted Madison’s shoulder gently. “Maybe fun isn’t the right word—”
Wanting to spare her friend unnecessary discomfort, but also to tease her a little, Madison said, “Audra wants to ogle Bram Finley. That’s why she’s really here. She’s a super-fan.”
Audra didn’t pat Madison this time. She gave her a light jab in the upper arm with one finger. “I do not want to ‘ogle’ anybody, Madison Bettencourt,” she protested. “And I am not a super-fan, either.”
“Sorry,” Madison said, wiggling her eyebrows once. “I would have sworn you were.”
Liam laughed. “If you want to meet him, I can arrange it.”
Audra shook her head vigorously, folded her arms. “I don’t ,” she insisted.
Down at the end of the street, in front of the picturesque little white church, a cluster of crew members was busy setting cameras and sound equipment in place.
Liam, Madison and Audra kept to the wooden sidewalk, and while the women focused their attention on the hubbub outside the church, Liam was looking in another direction, grinning a little.
When Madison followed his gaze, she saw a man on a powerful-looking black horse. The creature’s raven-dark hide rippled over muscle and bone and sinew, and it tossed its head in impatience. For all that, the man controlled the animal easily, and at first, Madison thought he was the famous Bram Finley, live and in person.
At a shout from the director, or one of his minions, a scene began, and the cameras rolled.
A bride and groom rushed out through the church’s open doors, clad in period wedding clothes, ducking while celebrants showered them with rice.
The bride looked around, as though searching for someone, and then, in the next moment, the big horse was thundering down the dirt street, his rider looking masterful in the saddle. He rode close to the steps of the church, leaned down and hooked an arm around the bride’s slender waist, hauling her deftly up in front of him.
They raced off then, while male members of the congregation leaped forward and fired pistol shots in their direction.
“Cut!” the director called.
The rider turned the horse around, eased the bride carefully down to the ground.
Her movie-rescuer remained in the saddle, the beautiful horse dancing beneath him, probably still reacting to the gunshots. Or simply wanting to run.
“That isn’t Bram Finley,” Audra said, squinting at the rider.
“No,” Liam agreed with another grin. “Finley would fall off a rocking horse if he was glued to the saddle. That’s Landon Reece. He’s the stunt double.”
“Hmm,” Audra said.
Liam might not be picking up on the vibes, but Madison certainly was. Audra was drawn to the man on horseback, though she probably thought she was being subtle.
Right on cue, Reece rode over to the high sidewalk. He nodded to both Madison and Audra, and then grinned at Liam. “So far,” he said, his distinctive blue-green eyes alight, “this day has been easy.”
By the time he’d finished the sentence, he was looking only at Audra.
“Landon Reece,” he said, leaning down with a creak of saddle leather to put out a hand to Audra.
She leaped back a step, then blushed.
Reece laughed. “You’re safe,” he said. “I was only going to shake your hand, not yank you off the ground and carry you off into the sunset.”
Audra’s blush deepened, and she looked more flustered than Madison had ever seen her, which was saying something, since they’d been through so much together over the years that they had few if any secrets, but she stepped forward and, very tentatively, accepted the man’s leather-gloved hand.
“Audra Lassiter,” Madison said when Audra didn’t introduce herself. “And I’m Madison Bettencourt. It’s good to meet you, Mr. Reece. That was quite an impressive ride.”
“Thanks. And call me Landon,” he replied, tugging lightly at the brim of his hat. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Bettencourt.” His gaze slipped, mischievous, to Liam’s face, then back to Madison’s. “I’ve heard all about you,” he said.
Liam looked away, resettled his hat.
Madison naturally wondered what Landon Reece had been told.
Audra was still watching Landon, as though he were a puzzle with a few key pieces missing. “You do this for a living?” she asked.
Although she was kind and well-meaning, Audra wasn’t the most diplomatic person in the world. She was naturally direct.
“This and other stuff,” Landon said. Watching Audra, his eyes softened, and Madison figured her friend hadn’t noticed that, either.
“Like what?” Audra asked.
“Like rolling headfirst off buildings,” Liam put in.
Audra stiffened. “Really?”
“Really,” Landon confirmed. His voice was strangely husky now.
“Reece!” a man’s voice bellowed from somewhere in the crowd gathered in front of the church. “Let’s try that again!”
Landon rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t falter.
“Ladies,” he said, once again tugging at the brim of his dusty hat—cowboy chivalry at its most breathtaking.
And then he rode away.
“What an idiot,” Audra muttered. “Risking his life like that. And for what?”
Madison and Liam exchanged glances, smiled, and said nothing.
Audra paced back and forth on the sidewalk, keeping her eyes on the crowd assembled near the church.
Or was she watching Landon, who was at once containing the fitful horse and bending in the saddle, listening carefully to instructions from someone on the crew?
While she was distracted, Liam took Madison’s elbows gently into his hands and turned her to face him.
“You look amazing,” he said.
“Flatterer,” Madison replied, though she was pleased, and she didn’t really try to hide it.
“We need to talk, Madison,” Liam went on, and his eyes were serious now. “About the fertility thing.”
Madison stiffened slightly. She was sensitive about “the fertility thing,” and as much as she enjoyed Liam’s company, she didn’t see her reproduction plans as any of his business. “What is there to talk about?” she asked quite crisply.
The change in her mood seemed to affect the surrounding atmosphere.
“Us,” Liam said.
Audra interrupted just then, calling from the door of the souvenir shop a few yards away, her voice back to its usual perky good cheer. “I’ll just be a minute, Mads. I need to pick up a few T-shirts for my nephews.”
Madison didn’t look her way, and neither did Liam, although they both gave an abrupt nod.
“Is there an ‘us’?” Madison asked, feeling cornered and defensive, though she knew she was overreacting. This happened to her sometimes; she turned contrary without understanding why. At least, not fully.
“That’s one of the things we need to talk about,” Liam said, not giving an inch of ground.
“Liam, my grandmother just died. I’m planning her memorial service, and it’s a major production. She left a lot of miscellaneous stuff to a lot of people, too, and I’m supposed to pass it on to them. I have a house guest, and there was this crazy letter, and I just sold my half of the company Audra and I built from nothing, and I’m—” Her throat tightened, and her eyes burned. “And I’m pretty overwhelmed at the moment!”
“I know,” Liam said with a sigh. He squeezed her shoulders and went on. “I’m sorry—I get that this isn’t the ideal time or place.” He paused, and his blue eyes darkened a little as he regarded her. “What crazy letter?”
“I can’t begin to explain,” Madison answered, and that was true. If she told Liam what Coralee had written on those featherlight sheets of stationery, he would think she was crazy, not the letter. “Maybe one day, but not now.”
Liam withdrew his hands then, and his jawline hardened, just for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “Right. You need time.”
“Is that a problem for you?” Madison asked, not as a challenge, but because she really wanted to know.
“It might be,” he conceded, after a silent but visible struggle with some emotion—anger? Frustration? Impatience?
She couldn’t tell.
“What does that mean, Liam?”
Liam said nothing. He pretended an interest in the goings-on at the far end of the street, where Landon was wheeling the movie horse around, heading their way, ready to gallop up to the church steps and scoop up the bride again.
Madison felt stubborn. “Liam?” she prodded. “I asked you a question.”
He turned back to her, and this time, he looked sad. “Later,” he said. “I’m busy right now.”
And with that, he turned and walked away, crossing the street without looking back at Madison, who stood, strangely stricken, on the wooden sidewalk, watching him go.
She was startled when Audra materialized at her side, a bulging shopping bag in one hand. “I leave you alone for five minutes,” she scolded in a good-natured whisper, “and you manage to butt heads with Mr. Right. What is it with you, Mads?”
Madison had to blink hard to keep back angry, injured tears. “Who says he’s Mr. Right?” she retorted with a snap in her tone, but she was watching Liam, not Audra, as she spoke.
“I do,” Audra said softly, touching Madison’s arm. “Maybe the timing isn’t great, sweetie, but this might be the chance of a lifetime. Have you thought about that?”
Madison loved her friend, so she didn’t answer just then, knowing anything she said would be confrontational. Defensive.
And probably stupid.
“Mads? What happened just now? What’s upset you so much?” Audra was successful for a reason; she never gave up. She’d been raised by a struggling single mother, and she’d learned the value of bullheaded persistence early on.
What she hadn’t learned, apparently, was when to cut her losses and run.
She’d probably still be trying to make her doomed marriage to Brett Sinclair work if he hadn’t filed for divorce and moved, with his two teenage daughters, to the south of France, where he reconciled with an ex-girlfriend.
“It’s the fertility treatments, isn’t it?” Audra asked.
Even though she’d experienced it a thousand times before, Audra’s insight surprised Madison, and it angered her a little, too.
“Maybe,” she said stiffly.
Without making a verbal agreement to do so, they left Bitter Gulch and made their way back to Audra’s car, which was parked in front of Bailey’s.
“Madison,” Audra insisted once they were in the car, with the motor running and the air-conditioning on full blast, “ talk to me . I’m your best friend, not your enemy.”
Madison gazed straight ahead, her backbone still stiff. “He wants to have a serious talk,” she said.
Audra checked the mirrors and the camera and backed into the street. “No,” she said. “A serious talk? That’s awful .”
Madison pushed her bangs back, lifted both hands to tighten her ponytail. Then she huffed out a breath, though she still wouldn’t—or couldn’t—look at Audra. “You’re not being funny, if that’s what you think,” she said.
Audra laughed. “Maybe not,” she retorted, “but you are. What’s the matter with you, Mads? Why would you hold back when that man—that good man—so clearly adores you? Do you think guys like him are commonplace? That there’s one around every corner, just waiting to love you like you’ve never been loved before?”
Madison bit her lower lip. Breathed through her nose for a few seconds. “Of course not,” she bit out when she trusted herself to speak. “But may I remind you, my nosy friend, that just a couple of weeks ago, I was all set to marry somebody else?”
They were headed out of town by then, traveling in the direction of Bettencourt Hall, and while Audra kept her eyes on the road, she was committed to the conversation and not about to back off.
“‘All set’? Is that what you were, Mads? Or were you just trying to go with the flow because everything had already been set in motion and you didn’t want to throw a wrench in the works?”
Madison sighed loudly. Clamped her back teeth together.
Forced herself to relax. At least a little.
“You noticed, I presume, that I did throw a wrench in the works? Or were you looking the other way when the whole situation went south?”
Again, Audra laughed. “Now that was quite a show,” she said. After a pause, her tone was more serious. “Don’t blow things with Liam, Mads. You might never get another chance like this. You realize that, don’t you?”
Inexplicably, and to her great annoyance, Madison began to cry. “He wants to talk me out of having fertility treatments, I just know it. If you’d seen his face when I told him I was planning to conceive a child, you’d understand.”
Now Audra spoke with such gentleness and affection that Madison couldn’t help crying harder. “Mads,” she almost whispered, feigning impatience. “If Liam objects to you using donor sperm, maybe it’s because, if you’re so set on having a baby, he wants the child to be his.”
“I wish ,” Madison said. “Liam already has two children, and he has his hands full raising them.”
“What if you’re wrong, Mads?” Audra pressed quietly. “What if he does want more kids? More importantly, what if he wants to have them with you ?”
“That would be wonderful,” Madison admitted with a sniffle. “But it’s also pure speculation.”
“Exactly. And you won’t know what he wants—what you both want—if you don’t talk it through with him.”
“There’s too much going on right now,” Madison insisted.
“There will always be a lot going on, Mads. It’s called life.”
“My judgment is bad when it comes to men. You know that, Audra. You’ve had a front row seat. I chose Tom. Then I chose Jeffrey. And both of them seemed like the right man at the time I fell for them.”
“Like you’ve fallen for Liam McKettrick?”
Madison concentrated on the scenery, the trees and the mountains and that big, wonderful sky. “Yes,” she said after another extended silence. “Like I’ve fallen for Liam McKettrick.”
“So you admit it? You’re in love with him?”
“Yes, oh grand inquisitor. I admit it.”
They’d reached Bettencourt Hall, and Audra signaled the turn onto the driveway. “So here’s the plan: I spend an evening out—go shopping, take in a movie, whatever—and you invite Mr. Gorgeous over, and the two of you discuss the situation like sensible adults.”
Madison thought about mentioning Keely, just to make a point. The girl was obviously having trouble accepting her new circumstances, and she probably wouldn’t like it if her father had a girlfriend, let alone a potential stepmother. Stepchildren were a touchy subject with Audra, with good reason, since her own had torpedoed her marriage to a man she’d loved deeply, and if Madison brought up her reservations about Liam’s daughter, it might be construed as a retaliatory dig.
So she kept her mouth shut.
And she and Audra spent the afternoon making plans for Coralee’s splashy memorial service, well aware that the time between now and then would go by fast.