Chapter Thirty-Two #2
I turn at the sound of my name, Madison, still fifty yards away.
She’s a vision in pink and white with the backdrop of orange flames and sparks, purple smoke, and haze filling the sky.
I’m utterly mesmerized by the unearthly sight, and I remember my grandfather at that moment, the southern winds blowing the scent of lavender across the fields.
“Go to her, George,” Kip gasps. “You’ve got it all, now. You’ve got the entire farm and the girl. What more could you want from me? What more could you possibly take from me?”
I jerk my head to look at him and notice his sweaty face contorted with pain. I glance at his twisted boot caught in the wire, his leg disproportionate to the rest of his body. I realize he can’t get away because he’s injured.
I say nothing, bending low to assess his situation. Kip cowers, the jagged wire digging deeper into his blue jeans, his dark blood staining the denim.
Quickly, I pull off my hoodie and wrap it around my hand. With my other hand, I gently hold the heel of his caught boot and use my protected hand to bend the wire.
“Ahhh!” Kip cries out, his body tensing in agony.
I’m hyper-focused on his foot, aiming to free him from the fence line.
I’m pushing my whole body to the limit, and I’m not about to give up because it’s challenging.
The barbed wire rips through my hoodie and slices my hand, but I don’t feel anything.
I don’t hear anything except for my own heart pounding like a bass drum in my head.
Madison is in my peripheral vision, her arms crossed against her chest in the chill, hair flying around her face, and the hem of her nightgown flitting like a sail in the wind. Her mouth is moving, but I hear nothing.
Gritting my teeth, I use every ounce of strength I have and finally free Kip from the wire, his booted leg landing on the ground with a sickening thump. He writhes and screams, both hands holding his injury.
I take a step back and watch Madison kneel to comfort him.
Not until Billy Hood palms my shoulder do all my senses turn back on. It’s like a light switch, the sights, smells, and sounds of chaos startling me into the present moment.
“No one was in the barn, George. It’s all clear. Everyone is accounted for.” His voice is calm, but I notice the worried lines in his expression.
“Okay,” I exhale in a forced breath, not even recognizing my own voice. “Can you take care of Kip, please? I think his leg is broken.”
“Of course. Several of the guys already called 9-1-1. I’ll stay with him until the authorities get here.”
“Thank you.”
Madison rises, trading places with Billy. She’s at my side in an instant. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
My hand is throbbing, but I know the jagged skin tear across my palm is more of a superficial wound, not deep. I wrap the tattered hoodie around my hand to stop the bleeding. “I’ll be fine.”
“I think you’re in shock.”
The dense, heavy scent of burning lavender is almost caustic in the air, and I can hear the wail of a siren in the distance.
“Earl started barking and woke me up. I looked out the window and saw the flames.”
Her body is shaking, and I realize she’s frightened. It’s up to me to soothe her. To calm her and let her know everything will be okay. I lift my uninjured hand to her cheek and gently caress her skin, looking deep into her eyes.
Her lips lift into a hesitant smile before she wraps her arms around my middle. I surround her in a protective hug.
We stand there in the field and watch the roof of the barn collapse in on itself, the purple ominous cloud of smoke obscuring the sky. I’m sure everyone in the county can see it from a distance.
I know fire is a symbol of destruction and loss, a farmer’s worst nightmare.
But for some reason, I’m not panicked or fearful.
I have no sense of impending doom like I normally would.
Something has changed inside of me. I hold Madison closer, my desire to protect her and keep her safe enlightening me.
I finally get it.
In the past, I would’ve run to the broken treehouse or the pond. My favorite escape since I was a child.
But now, I don’t feel the need to flee. Or the desire to count my breaths or close my eyes and disappear. I’m standing here in the moment, experiencing it all. And I’m better for it.
I’ve come full circle.
Life isn’t about me and what I feel. It’s about others. It’s about loving Madison and respecting the workers. It’s about forgiving Kip and not living in the past.
Burned barns can be built again. And that’s what I plan on doing. It’s as simple and complicated as that.
As the paramedics arrive and whisk Kip away on a stretcher, I give the local sheriff my statement. I’m candid and unafraid, holding Madison’s hand through it all.
When it’s just the two of us standing by the fence line of mangled wire, I kiss Madison on her temple and whisper, “I’m hungry.”
She looks up at me as if perplexed. “You’re… hungry?”
We start to walk, our steps in tandem across the grassy field as firemen continue to douse the smoldering embers of the once historic barn with precision.
“I was thinking peanut butter and strawberry jam.”
“For breakfast?” she laughs.
I laugh too, and it feels good. Real good.
“Yeah. Why not? It’s good to switch things up a bit sometimes. Don’t you think?”
She pulls me to a stop and palms my face with her hands. “I think everything you do is a good thing, George.”
Her lips are soft and decadent against mine, like the nectar of the juiciest, sweetest Georgia peach. Her kiss sends a rush of lust to my core.
“Mmmm, Madison,” I mumble.
The very presence of this woman in my life soothes the raw, jagged edges of my heart. She’s a reminder that no matter what we face, the good things always outweigh the bad. Through the fires and tribulations in life. When things seem difficult and unfair. When we lose the ones we love the most.
The good things—the blessings—are everywhere.
As we near the main house, where the scent of lavender hangs heavy in the aftermath, I feel Pop’s presence and look up into the sky. There’s a break in the smoky haze, and I squint in the brightness as a sunbeam penetrates my face.
“I hope you recognize the light when it hits you,” Madison says, squeezing my hand.
I blink several times and smile. “I do. I honestly do.”