Suddenly, Madi swung around and looked over to Brett with the most horrified expression on her face. As if she’d just realized something terrible, she brought her shoulders up into a shrug and her face crumpled. He moved to her swiftly and embraced her, holding her to his chest as she bawled like a baby. Amelia came up behind her and embraced her, stroking her hair. She shushed her daughter and tried to calm her, but to no avail. Madi was simply overcome with emotion, and no attempt at comfort would help at that moment. Healing was simply going to take time. Amelia pulled, and pulled, finally succeeding in separating Madi from Brett’s embrace.
Madi was reluctant and protested, “No, Brett. I—”
“Shh, hush now. Let’s go get you out of these wet clothes and into a warm bath, hmm?” Her mother stroked at her cheek and kissed the tear running down it. “C’mon,” Amelia soothed her daughter, taking her hand and leading her away and up the stairs.
Madi continued to protest, “But, Brett…I—” She turned and reached for him, but her mother reassured her once more. “It’s alright, Madison.”
“It’s ok, Sunflower, I’ll be up shortly, alright?” He nodded and smiled in encouragement. She contemplated that for a moment then finally turned and went upstairs with her mother.
Jerry was the first one to break the silence. “Jesus, I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a drink.” With that, he walked toward the parlor. Brett turned to Brooke, who shook her head again. She grabbed a bottle of pills out of the pantry and mumbled, “I assume Madi’s gonna need these.” She headed up the stairs after Madi and her mother.
Brett followed Jerry into the first room adjacent to the front door, the formal parlor. It was where the Thomas' hosted a small group and formerly where Brett and Hunter would have some drinks at the end of the night, on occasion.
Jerry poured scotch into a highball glass, motioning with his eyes to Brett, who nodded that: yes, he did indeed want one. Brett lit the fireplace and threw some logs in while Jerry grabbed another glass, pouring a fair amount of scotch into it as well. He then grabbed both, handed Brett his glass, and they took a seat opposite one another as Jerry toasted Brett.
“What a week, huh?” He meant it as a rhetorical question and continued. “Damn…I don’t even know…just DAMN.” He cursed and slammed his fist on the arm of the large, overstuffed Queen Anne chair he sat in. “Sorry,” he apologized, “but I hate to see my daughter like this. I know you do, too.” Brett just nodded and swallowed hard. “I’m gonna miss that son of a bitch, ya know?” He laughed tearfully, then sighed heavily and sat silent for several long moments.
Brett listened to the rain and the crackle of the fire, struggling to relax his heavy heart and mind. “The next few weeks are gonna be real hard on my Madi. I just appreciate you being here for her, Brett.” Jerry reached forward and patted Brett on the knee. “You’re a good man. I’ve always known that, but the way you’ve been with Madi is truly commendable. She needs you. I guess you see that.” Jerry raised his eyebrows and scoffed. Then he fell into silence and sipped his scotch slowly.
Suddenly, the front door burst open and in stumbled Frank Thomas, Hunter’s father. He struggled to get his sopping wet umbrella closed, mumbling curses all the while.
“Well, c’mon in, Frank,” Jerry stated. “Would you care for a libation?”
“Damn this weather today,” Frank said, slamming his umbrella into the slender stand near the door. “Nah, thanks though, Jer. I’m just gonna grab that casserole for Rita and I, and we’ll head on home. She’s not doing so well right now.” Brett took that as his cue; he stood to go fetch the dish, motioning for Frank to take his seat. Frank shook his offered hand. “Too bad you couldn’t hear the damn preacher over this stupid rain. The flowers were awful beautiful though, huh? How’s our girl holding up?”
Brett just shook his head sadly. “Not well, sir, not so well. How about you?”
Frank sadly shook his head in return. “I’m trying to be as strong as I can for my wife, but I never expected to have to bury my only child today.” He ambled over to the sofa Brett had been sitting on as Brett turned to exit the room; guilt, once more, riddling his soul in ripping torment.
“I’ll go grab that casserole for you.” Brett excused himself and went to the kitchen. He opened the well-stocked fridge, took the medium-sized chicken casserole from the second shelf, and brought it out to Frank.
“Thanks, Brett. I doubt we eat it today but…well, maybe tomorrow.”
“No worries,” Brett said. “There’s so much food in there I don’t know if it will ever get eaten. Want to take some more stuff home?” Frank shook his head in reply. “I can’t hardly get Madi to eat anything. Come to think of it, I guess none of us has had much of an appetite...” Brett trailed off as he propped his hip against the door jamb and wrung his hands.
Frank sighed. “I guess your folks stayed home today?”
“Yes, sir. Momma’s sick with a sinus infection, but Dad said to give him a call if any of us needed anything. So, please don’t be afraid to ask.”
“That’s mighty kind of Drew. I tell ya, everyone has been so gracious amid all of this.” Frank teared up a little. Jerry reached over and patted his shoulder, then walked over to the bar to make another drink—this one for Frank, who took it obligingly. The men sat in companionable silence once again. Finally, right before Frank was about to get up, Brooke came to the landing of the stairs.
“Brett, I’m sorry to interrupt, but… Madi, she’s refusing
