Brett pulled his SUV to a stop at the back of the restaurant.
“Brett, we—I can’t—” Madi began.
“It’s ok. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand before stepping out of the truck. He moved to the back door, gave three knocks and a big bellied woman with rosy cheeks and curly hair threw the rickety, old thing open and greeted him with a bright smile.
“Brett McFadden. How are you, sugar?”
“I’m well, Rosie. Thank you for doing this.”
“Absolutely. It’s my pleasure. You take care of that sweet girl of Jerry’s now. Bless y’alls hearts.” Rosie’s eyes teared up.
“Will do, Rose. Have a good day.”
“You too, hon.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, handing him a large basket of food.
He walked back to the truck and got a confused look out of Madi when she saw the overfilled basket.
“You got it to-go?”
“Yes, ma’am. I did.” He beamed, and she relaxed some as he turned and placed it in the floorboard behind her. “Let’s roll the windows down. It’s sunny out today.”
He rolled all four of the windows down halfway and turned the radio on to his favorite country station, hearing Tim McGraw sing, “Where The Green Grass Grows.” He sang along to the lyrics and nudged Madi to join in. She smiled but didn’t sing along. Brett didn’t press it. She was out of the house and that was a start.
It was a gorgeous March day driving through the valley, the birds were singing, the dogwood and cherry blossom trees were starting to bloom, and the sun was warm. Spring had sprung.
Madi continued to sit quietly as if in a fog as Brett turned back onto his land and headed down a dirt trail behind the barn. Maybe, if she felt up to it, they’d take the horses for a ride today.
He pulled up to his favorite clearing and cut the ignition. He got out of the truck, grabbing a big blanket from the backseat. He then came back and got the basket, motioning for Madi to sit as he began to do so himself. She glanced over at the creek that bubbled not far from where they sat and drained into a lake just fifty yards downstream, at the old oak tree with a swing he’d fashioned years ago, then she looked down.
Brett set to the task of pulling the goodies out of the basket— sweet teas in mason jars and the many containers of food: fried chicken, squash casserole, lima beans, creamed corn, sweet potatoes, and yeast rolls. He grabbed the plates and utensils Rosie had provided and began divvying up the feast.
“Am I ever gonna stop seeing him in everything I hear, see, and do?” Madi stated as if in a reverie.
“The point is not to stop, just to not breakdown when you do,” Brett replied.
“My lord, we don’t eat like this.”
“That’s kinda the point, Madi.”
“Mmm,” she moaned as he handed her the heaping plate he knew she’d eat three bites of and be done with. “This smells incredible.”
“Yeah, said by someone who’s been trying to starve herself.”
“I wasn’t. I just…” she trailed off as Brett dug into the food and she followed. She moaned again as she bit into the chicken. “This is so good.”
“The soul needs comfort food.” Brett grinned big and Madi returned it, after she’d swallowed her bite. “We’re going to your mom and dad’s for dinner tonight at six.”
Madi’s face fell and she looked away suddenly.
“I thought you’d want to see them, Sunflower. It’s been almost a week.”
“I do, I just…”
“Your mom wanted to have you committed, Madi. She thinks you locking yourself up was concerning to say the least.”
“I just didn’t realize how many days had passed. I wasn’t tryin’ to—”
“Hey, we all have to grieve. Some people grieve differently than others, ok? None of us have experienced what you have.”
“You have,” Madi whispered and looked up into his eyes, her seafoam green orbs lighting up in the sunlight, making her even more beautiful than she already was to him. “I haven’t even checked on you. I bet no one has. They’ve been so worried about me. How are you holding up, Brett?” She’d set her plate down and was touching his forearm, bringing her hand down to his. He squeezed her soft, small palm in his larger one, admiring the feel and texture and touch of the woman he’d been hopelessly in love with all his life.
He’d been holding up as best he could for a man riddled with guilt at losing his best friend. The man who’d been more like his brother than not. They’d fought as much as they got along; he loved the goofy asshole despite his flaws, his arrogant ways, and how he’d treated his wife. Hunter had been funny, light-hearted, and one of a kind. And Brett had lived instead.
Brett found himself opening up for the first time since the accident to Madison—for if he couldn’t open up to the woman who’d been his best friend since they were seven who the hell else could he talk to? “It was supposed to be me….”
He heard Madi pull in a shuddered breath. She’d told him not to say that again, but he wasn’t saying it because he felt it to be true. He said it because it was true. It was Hunter’s car. And Brett had been driving it. If Brett had been in the passenger seat, he would’ve been the one to take the brunt of the hit. He told Madi all this, and for once, she wasn’t crying; she just looked at him, absorbing his feelings and emotions.
“Guilt eats at me every day, and I have to just swallow it down. God chose me.”
Madi’s smile was earnest as she fought the tears stinging her eyes. “He did. And I know we aren’t supposed to question Him, but I’ve been really mad.”
“Anger is part of the process. There’s nothing wrong with
