Saving Maddie Page 2

  “Maddie?”

  She stopped and turned around. Her eyes narrowed for a second, then relaxed. “Joshua Wynn?” Her lips stretched into a smile. “I thought that was you up there in the choir.”

  I nodded. “What are you doing back in South Carolina?”

  “It’s a long story,” she said as she enveloped me in a bear hug. “Let’s just say I needed a break.”

  I wrapped my arms around her; my fingers froze for a half second as they grazed her bra strap. I took in her scent—her familiar vanilla practically hidden by a coffee smell. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” I said.

  She pulled away. “I look that different, huh?” Heat shot to my face. “Well … I didn’t mean …”

  “It’s okay. I know I’ve changed a lot.” She looked me up and down. “But then again, so have you.”

  My tie felt like a noose around my neck. “I must have finally put on a few pounds.” I moved closer to her to allow people to pass by. “Wow. Maddie, I can’t believe—”

  “Call me Madeline. I go by my full name now.”

  “Madeline.” I liked the way the word felt on my tongue. “I guess that sounds a lot more mature than Maddie.”

  “Like I said before, I’ve changed a lot. I’m not the little girl I used to be.”

  I took in her face. Some things about her were still the same: freckled cheeks; round brown eyes; full, pouty lips. But her hair, which had once reached past her shoulders, was now short and wavy. And those pouty lips were lined in purple lipstick. Not a neon purple, but more like a dark, blue-black mix. Like the color of blackberries.

  “I love your hair, but I can’t believe you cut it.” I wanted to touch her again, to make sure she was really standing in front of me. “It used to be so long.”

  “Thanks. Mom and Dad hate it.” She began picking at her fingernails—her nail polish matched her lipstick. “It was their bright idea to send me down here for the summer. They must think Conway is too podunk for me to get into any real trouble.”

  “Conway isn’t that small,” I said. “I know it’s nowhere near as big as Norfolk, but—”

  “Please. Conway doesn’t deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Norfolk. I mean, you guys only have one bookstore. What kind of town only has one bookstore?”

  “But Maddie—er, Madeline—we have plenty of bookstores.”

  “Christian ones don’t count.”

  I laughed. One thing that definitely hadn’t changed was her personality. She was still as stubborn as a lazy bulldog on a hot summer day.

  She began to back away. “It was good catching up with you, Joshua, but I’ve got to get out of here. I need to get some studying in before I go to work.”

  “No … wait.” I stepped toward her. “Can’t you stick around for a while? I’d love to talk for a few minutes … to catch up.”

  I had so many questions. So much to talk about.

  Like:

  Why did you come to church dressed like that? Your parents would have a heart attack if they could see you.

  Like:

  Why are you back in Conway, if you hate it so much?

  Like:

  Why did you stop writing me? You promised, remember?

  Madeline shook her head. “I don’t know, Joshua. I should really get going—”

  “I have a youth group meeting, but it’ll only last a few minutes.” My voice sounded airy and rushed. “Better yet, why don’t you come to the meeting with me?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her eyes cut toward the building, then back at me. “I’m not really into organized religion.”

  She took a step backward. This time, I didn’t follow.

  “I mean, I believe in God and all. I just don’t believe in the whole church thing anymore. Only reason I’m here now is because … well, let’s just say that according to Dad, it’s part of my penance.” She placed her hands on her hips and jutted her chest out even farther. “I figured if he was going to force me to come to church, I was going to wear something that people would remember. What do you think?”

  It took everything in my power not to let my gaze fall to her chest. “That’s not funny, Madeline.”

  “Who said I was joking?” She nodded toward the church. “You should head to your meeting. You don’t want to be late.”

  And then, just as suddenly as she had reappeared into my life, she vanished. I would have thought it was all a dream, except for the coffee-and-vanilla scent that lingered in the air.

  * * *

  “The sermon was okay, but I think I could have made it stronger. I just didn’t get the reaction I wanted from the congregation. Maybe if I had focused a little more on Paul’s plight.”

  Dad had been talking nonstop since we sat down for dinner, but I was too busy staring at the mound of roast beef on my plate to pay attention.

  This was not the same Maddie Smith I knew five years ago. What had happened to the thirteen-year-old girl, all skin and bones? The girl I used to play hide-and-seek with behind the church? The girl with the blackberry-stained lips who promised we’d always be friends?

  I’ll tell you what had happened—she’d grown up.

  “Joshua?” Dad leaned closer to me. “You awake? I was asking your opinion on the sermon.”

  I turned toward him. “I liked it,” I said. “Everyone was probably anxious to get home. Game four of the NBA Finals comes on this afternoon.”

  Dad ran his fingers through his hair. His temples had turned white long ago, and now the rest of his hair was following suit. “That’s what’s wrong with our people. Too busy watching MTV and ESPN to pray and learn the word.”

  “Isaiah, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying music or sports.” Mom dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin. “Or maybe you’ve forgotten about those golf clubs collecting dust in the garage.”

  Dad smiled. With all the clubs, clothes, and training videos he had collected over the years, you’d think he was an avid golf player. But he was so busy with church business, he only made it out to the golf course a few times a year, usually when some big-shot preacher was visiting. Of course, that didn’t stop Dad from buying himself a new golf toy every year for his birthday. This year’s present, a custom-made sand wedge, hadn’t even made it out of its box.

  “Lily, I like sports—and yes, golf is a real sport—as much as anyone else, but we’re not in the business of creating the next Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan. We’re in the business of saving souls.” He glanced at me. “Unfortunately, too many of our members forget that.”

  Even though Dad hadn’t said it, I knew he was thinking about the boys’ basketball team that the church had sponsored this past spring. The team he grudgingly decided to support, at the request of a few of the more influential members of the congregation. The team that had lost every game of the season.

  Dad sliced himself another piece of roast beef. “Sorry I wasn’t able to sit in on the youth group meeting. How did it go?”

  I peered at him out of the corner of my eye. “Some of the girls brought up the idea of a praise-dance ministry again.”

  Dad paused from eating but didn’t look up from his plate. “You’d think with all the events you kids are planning for the Youth Revival, and with the upcoming retreat, you wouldn’t need any other activities.”

  “But the Youth Revival only happens once a year, and we’re just going to plain old Savannah for our retreat,” I said. “The girls want something more—”

  “Joshua, we’ve had this conversation before. The last thing I want is a bunch of hormonal sixteen-year-old girls gyrating in my sanctuary.” He finally looked up from his plate. “The last thing God wants is a bunch of girls gyrating in His sanctuary.”

  I knew Dad was a preacher and all, but the way he talked sometimes, you’d think he knew God better than any other person on the planet. “Dad, gyrating isn’t exactly what I’d call it. Plus, the girls think it’ll be a good way to get other youth involved, especially since we weren’t able to get enough girls to sign up for the basketball league.”

  “And what do you think?”

  I think we should try it, I wanted to say. But I didn’t say it, because it wouldn’t have done any good. Senior Pastor Wynn had already made up his mind.

  I sighed. “I think we should focus on getting more youth to join the choir instead,” I mumbled, feeling like Judas.

  Mom fingered the string of shiny white pearls around her neck. “I couldn’t help but notice you talking to some girl in the parking lot after church. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her.”

  I was curious how Mom had seen us, when she was parked on the opposite side of where Madeline and I were talking. But being the good Christian boy that I was, I didn’t mention this.

  “I was talking to Madeline Smith.”

  Mom’s eyes widened. “That was Maddie? She looks so … mature.”

  I frowned. “It’s been five years since she’s been back home. She’s grown a little.”

  Mom stared off into space, a blank look on her face. “Little Maddie Smith,” she said. “She used to be such a sweet girl—could quote the Bible better than most adults.” Mom turned back to me. “I know y’all used to keep in touch. When’s the last time you heard from her?”

  I thought about all my unanswered letters. “It’s been a while.”

  “Well, maybe that’s for the best, because she certainly doesn’t look like the girl I remember.” Mom waved her fork in the air. “What was she thinking, wearing a dress like that to church? She should be ashamed of herself.”

  I tightened my grip on my knife. “Nowadays, girls wear stuff like that all the time.”

  “She’s not just any girl,” Mom said. “She’s a preacher’s daughter.
There are some things she just can’t do.”

  “But Mom—”

  “Your mother’s right, Joshua. I noticed her during my sermon, and I agree, what she wore was inappropriate.” Dad’s deep voice rang throughout the dining room. “Her father says she’s been quite the problem child over the past few years.”

  I took a quick sip of water to wash away the dry, chalky taste in my throat. “Did you know she was back in town?”

  He nodded. “Her father told me she’d be spending the summer with her aunt Gwendolyn. I made a few calls and was able to get her a job down at Yvonne Brockington’s coffee shop.”

  That explained the coffee smell.

  “I would have said something earlier, but first I wanted to see if she’d actually come to service,” he said. “Greg warned me that she’d probably be more interested in making a scene than recommitting herself to her faith.”

  I pushed around a few grains of rice with my fork. “Do you know what happened to her? She’s so … different now.”

  Dad swallowed the last of his roast beef. “Supposedly she got involved with some boy at that fancy boarding school her father sent her to, and things went downhill from there. She got accepted to Brown—even got a partial scholarship—but Greg refused to pay the rest of her tuition.” Dad pushed his empty plate away from him. “According to Greg, he wasn’t about to spend his hard-earned money on Maddie’s schooling just to have her prancing around campus, wasting his money on tight skirts and black lipstick.”

  “Her dress wasn’t that tight,” I said. “And her lipstick is purple, not black.”

  “Purple, black, blue—it doesn’t really matter,” Mom said. “It breaks my heart every time I talk to Greg or Paulette—that girl seems to cause them more grief than any parent should have to bear.” Mom shook her head. “We just have to keep praying for Maddie and hope she eventually gets all this nonsense out of her system.”

  Mom returned to eating her salad, but Dad just stared at me. “Maybe we should do more than just pray for her,” he said.

  “You want me to speak to her?” Mom asked. “I can probably find some time next—”

  “Actually, I think Joshua should talk to her.”

  You would have thought I was born mute, as speechless as I was right then.

  Mom placed her fork on her plate. “Isaiah, don’t you think I’d be better suited to talk to her? I’ve been counseling young women for quite a few years.”

  “She and Joshua used to be best friends,” Dad said. “If anyone could get through to her, he could. Maybe he could stop by the coffee shop one day and strike up a conversation.”

  Yeah, I could do that. I’d be happy to do that.

  “And then what is he supposed to do? Tie her up and beat her over the head with a Bible?” Mom’s voice was a controlled shout. “Joshua’s only seventeen, Isaiah. He’s not—”

  “Joshua’s a good kid, Lily. It’ll take a lot more than a simple conversation to sway him off his path.” Dad rose from the table. “I’ve got to run. I’ve got a meeting at the church in less than an hour, and I still have to finish preparing my notes. We can talk about this more tonight.”

  Mom watched Dad disappear down the hallway, the frown on her face deepening as each second passed. “I think I’m finished with dinner,” she said after a few moments. “You want anything else to eat?”

  I looked at the mountain of meat sitting on my plate. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

  Mom rose from her chair but didn’t move away from the table. “I know you want to impress your father, but you don’t have to talk to Madeline if you don’t want to. He’s putting you in an uncomfortable situation.”

  “Really, I don’t mind.” I did my best to keep my voice cool and calm, to try to hide the fireworks popping off in my chest.

  “Maybe I should rephrase that. I don’t want you seeing Madeline.” Mom squeezed the back of her chair, her fingers disappearing in its plush cream cushioning. “Madeline used to be one of the smartest, sweetest girls I knew, but that was a long time ago. There’s no telling what type of person she is now.”

  I stared at Mom’s hands, wondering if they would leave a permanent imprint in the chair. “I just want to talk to her,” I said. “We’re Christians. It’s our job to help people, right?”

  She released her grip on the chair, then picked up her half-full plate. “That sounds like something your father would say.” She headed toward the kitchen but paused at the doorway. “Fine, go talk to the girl if you want to. But remember—you can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.”

  A few seconds later, I heard glasses clinking in the sink and the rush of water from the faucet. I plopped my elbows onto the table and buried my head in my hands.

  I probably should have been thinking about what I was going to say to Madeline—how I was going to lead her back to the path of the righteous—but all I could do was think about her lips. Their color. Their … taste.

  I had no doubt that Madeline Smith needed saving. I just wasn’t quite sure if I was interested in being her savior.

  chapter 2

  It had been four months since Jenn and I broke up—or rather, since she dumped me—but I still felt strange visiting the nursing home without her. Although it was my high school, not hers, that had adopted the Faith Nursing Home, she often came out and visited with me during the school year. Now that school was out, I was probably the only student who still came by during the summer months. Not that I minded—I really liked visiting the senior citizens. I just missed having someone to come visit them with me.

  It wasn’t just our trips to the nursing home that I missed. I missed playing Scrabble and watching old movies with her. I missed the way she laughed at my bad jokes. I missed seeing her at youth group meetings. I missed the way my parents would smile when she came over to visit.

  Of course, I also missed all the making out, but I wasn’t supposed to be focusing on the physical parts of the relationship, right? She wasn’t a piece of meat. She was my girlfriend. My perfect girlfriend.

  My perfect ex-girlfriend.

  Even now, I could still hear her sweet, high-pitched voice as she gave me the news.

  I’m sorry, Joshua, but I think we should break up. I want a boyfriend, not a saint.

  Truthfully, I was a little surprised, but I assumed it’d be like any of our other arguments. She’d be mad for a few days, but she’d eventually get over it. I mean, yeah, compared to other guys, maybe I was a “good guy.” But so what? She was a good girl. Good girls belonged with good guys.

  But then three days without her calling turned into three weeks. Jenn even stopped coming to church, instead attending Catholic Mass with her father.

  Charlotte, Tony’s girlfriend, attended the same school as Jenn, so I constantly prodded her for information. All Charlotte would do was change the subject.

  Finally, I broke down and called Jenn. And it was then that she told me she was seeing someone else.

  Later, Tony and Charlotte told me that not only was Jenn dating her lab partner (who, incidentally, was a stud football player with hands big enough to rip a phone book in half), but she had slept with him.

  Jennifer Anne Dowling—my perfect ex-girlfriend—had lost her virginity to someone else.

  Of course, I was mad. No, not mad—livid. No, not livid—incensed. So what did I do?

  I prayed for her soul.

  And what’s worse, I prayed for her new boyfriend’s soul as well.

  Why? Because the Bible said that premarital sex was wrong. Because I was supposed to forgive her for her transgressions. Because that was what my parents would have wanted me to do.

  But even now, as I walked into the nursing home, all I wanted to do was find this new boyfriend of hers and smash my fist into his face. Then I wanted to find a new girlfriend and catch up on all the kissing and making out that I’d been missing out on.

  Part of me even wanted to do more than make out.

  But that wasn’t going to happen, because I was Joshua Wynn, the preacher’s son. I was supposed to be a shining example of what was good and righteous and wholesome in the world.

  “Joshua, you okay?” Becca, the receptionist, asked as I signed in. “You look mad.”

  I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’m okay.” I nodded toward the rec room. “Are they in there?”