Cold feet(52)
Author: Brenda Novak

Caleb cast Madison a meaningful look. "Seems I know someone else who’s struggling with that."

"I’m just being cautious," she said. "It’s not the same."

"Whatever you say." He turned his attention back to the road until they reached Deception Pass, the bridge that linked the two islands. Then they started winding around to the north side of Fidalgo Island, and he looked over at her again. "So why aren’t you going to sleep with me tonight?"

"I thought you were thinking about other things," she said curtly.

He chuckled. "You’ve piqued my curiosity."

"Sleeping with you confuses me. I’m not planning to let myself get attached. And I don’t do casual sex."

"Judging by last night, there wouldn’t be anything casual about it."

And that would be the real reason. "Will I meet your sister today?" she asked, steering the conversation back to safe ground.

"I’m sure there won’t be any way to avoid it. She lives next door."

Madison couldn’t help laughing. "Tell me what she’s like as an adult."

"Not much different than she was as a kid. She’s still looking for a chance to run my life. My mother lovingly calls her a ‘mother hen’ but, believe me, Tamara takes the concept to new heights."

"Does she know how you feel about her?"

"No. And she wouldn’t believe me even if I told her. That’s one thing I do like about my sister. She’s sort of indestructible."

Madison gazed out the window at Fidalgo Bay and a small cluster of fishing boats off in the distance. "It’s pretty here."

"I’ve always liked it," he said as they stopped at a red light. They were approaching the small, quaint city of Anacortes.

"Then why did you leave?"

He turned from Commercial onto 12th Street. After a few blocks, Madison saw old, well-maintained homes on the left and Guemes Channel on the right. "I needed some space."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CALEB’S PARENTS’ HOUSE was a large white Victorian facing Guemes Channel. Madison loved it at first sight, especially the wraparound porch and the gingerbread that dripped from the eaves. As she got out of Caleb’s car, she could see an arbor with climbing roses to the left. Stepping-stones led through it to what promised to be a very natural, beautiful yard.

"This is where you grew up?" she asked.

He waited for her to join him at the head of a redbrick walkway. "Yes. And if it looks like the kind of place where the children of the house would be forced to take piano lessons, it was."

Madison glanced at his hands, which were large and devoid of any jewelry. They didn’t look like a musician’s hands; they looked a lot more solid–like a quarterback’s hands. "You can play the piano?"

"I didn’t say I could play, only that I was forced to take lessons."

"For how long?"

"Five years. And they were the longest five years of my life. I’d have to sit and practice for forty-five minutes a day while all my buddies were out playing baseball. I hated it."

"How terrible to be so unloved," she said with a mocking smile.

He returned her grin. "I knew you’d understand."

"Just tell me one thing," she said. "How could you not learn to play in five years?"

His expression turned sheepish. "Unfortunately, I can be as stubborn as my mother. After all that time, my crowning achievement was a rather mediocre rendition of Swan Lake. I still have it memorized."

"What an accomplishment. You’ll have to play it for me later."

"I don’t think so. For me, that’s sort of the equivalent of serenading you outside your window."

Madison feigned disappointment. "That isn’t going to happen, either?"

"How’d you guess?"

She didn’t have a chance to respond. A thin woman with beautiful white hair swept up with a gold clip had come to the door and was watching their advance. She smiled as soon as Madison looked at her, and Madison could immediately see the similarities between Caleb’s facial features and those of his mother. She had the same sharp cheekbones, the same kind but shrewd eyes, the same generous mouth.

Madison particularly appreciated Caleb’s mouth….

"Mom, this is Madison Lieberman," he said, embracing his mother as they stepped onto the porch. "Madison, this is Justine, the woman who scarred me with those piano lessons I was telling you about."

Justine rolled her eyes and took hold of Madison’s hands. "Don’t listen to that ungrateful boy. We’re so glad you could come."

Her grip was warm and reassuring, her smile just short of radiant. She struck Madison as self-possessed and dignified. "I’m glad to be here." Caleb brushed past them and strolled inside.

"Then come in," Justine said. "My husband is just getting cleaned up. He’s been working in the back all day, trying to get the weeds pulled, but we’ll have dinner soon. I hope you like salmon."

"That’s my favorite fish." Madison followed her hostess into a house that smelled of broiled fish, mushrooms, onions and furniture polish–to find Caleb coming out of the kitchen with his mouth full.

"What are you eating?" his mother demanded. "You haven’t been here ten seconds."

Caleb didn’t look the least bit abashed. "Want a crescent roll?" he asked Madison, offering her the rest of what he’d momentarily tried to hide behind his back.

"No, thanks," she said, laughing. "I’ll wait."

"Where are your manners?" Justine asked him, shaking her head. "We’re waiting for Tamara and the kids."

"What’d I tell you?" Caleb said to Madison, finishing off his roll.

His mother’s eyebrows lifted. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said.

Madison could tell his mom knew better. "Tamara has always loved and pampered you," she insisted.

"When she wasn’t getting me grounded for ditching school," he muttered.

Justine sighed and jerked her head toward Caleb. "It took all of us to manage this one."

"I can imagine," Madison said.

"But please don’t assume that anything he does reflects on me," Justine replied drolly, leading her into a sitting room with wide front windows and an antique settee.

A knock at the door preceded two calls of "Grandma, we’re here!" Then the screen door slammed shut. Little feet pounded down the hallway, and identical twin boys who seemed about eight years old came skidding around the corner, crying, "Uncle Caleb!"

Madison thought they were bent on tackling Caleb right there in front of the Russian tea set and lace draperies. But Caleb tossed the first boy over his shoulder and got the other in a headlock. "Well, if it isn’t trouble," he said.