Saving Madeline Read online

  “Daddy, can I get a drink?”

  “Sure.” He took her over to a machine and bought her an orange soda pop. She sat on the bench next to the machine, sipping contentedly.

  “Why are we here?”

  “I’m just looking for someone. It’ll only take a few minutes.” In fact, they could probably leave now. If Caitlin had been on the flight, she wasn’t here any longer.

  Someone passed by him, bumping into his arm. “Excuse me,” said a tall woman with graying hair.

  “No problem.”

  She nodded and turned back to her companion. “I’m not surprised the flight was delayed with all this snow.”

  Hope flooded him, and he searched the room for the huge screens that gave updated flight information. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? That he hadn’t said a lot about his state of mind. “Stay right here, Madeline. I’m just walking over to that TV there. I want you here where I can see you.”

  “’Kay.” She took another sip of her drink, swinging her legs.

  His soggy shoes creaked as he crossed the room and began comparing flight numbers to the one on the damp, crumpled paper in his pocket. The flight from Salt Lake City was delayed and only now arriving. He hadn’t missed her! Returning to the bench with Madeline, he sat back and waited. They were partially obscured by the drink machine, but he had a clear enough view.

  There! His heart nearly stopped beating. She was coming through the security gate, Amy behind, her large body looking ridiculous in her bright pink and orange clothes. Caitlin was loaded down with two carry-on bags and a huge rolling

  suitcase. Amy pulled an identical suitcase and carried a green jacket over her shoulder. Caitlin laughed and said something to Amy. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her copper hair was freed from its usual clasp, curling around her face. Her eyes were bright, her freckled skin perfect.

  He studied the other passengers also coming through the security gate. No Detective Crumb or other official-looking person. Had she really come alone?

  After passing the gate, Caitlin stopped and scanned the large room slowly. Her tongue slowly wet her lips. Parker pulled his head back momentarily as she glanced his way, glad that Madeline was standing on the bench now, near the drink machine where she couldn’t be seen.

  Caitlin’s bright smile faltered and died, as though turned off by a switch. She stood there for a minute more as though considering her options. Finally, she took a determined breath and reached for Amy’s hand, the happiness on her face replaced with resolution. She turned and began walking away.

  Was he going to let her go? If only he could be sure she hadn’t told anyone.

  “Madeline, stay here again,” he said in a low voice. “Over here on the end where I can see you.”

  He stood and followed Caitlin.

  • • •

  He wasn’t there.

  Her disappointment was so all-encompassing that it took every ounce of pride in her to keep walking. Even when he learned that he was in the clear and could come home, it would make no difference to their relationship. It was over.

  “We’ll get a taxi to a hotel I read about on the Internet

  yesterday,” she told Amy brightly. “You’ll love it there. It’s really homey. At least it looked that way on the computer.” She had addresses of her parents’ friends to look up later, but for now, she desperately needed a hot bath and some sleep. Her hope must have been what had kept her going this long, because suddenly her exhaustion felt like an impossible weight.

  “I’m hungry.” Amy changed hands on her suitcase handle.

  “They have wonderful food here. You’re going to love it.”

  He wasn’t here. She had been a fool to have hoped. Yet why did she feel him? Why was her heart reaching out and finding . . . something?

  She stopped walking. Amy continued ahead several paces before she turned and looked curiously at Caitlin. “Why did you stop?”

  Caitlin didn’t answer. She released her suitcase, dropping one flight bag to her side and then the other. Slowly she turned.

  He was standing behind her, about twenty-five feet away. He looked different. His hair was longer and his face more tanned—probably from his time in Nevada. She’d been there in the winter before, and some of the days had been sunny. He wore black dress pants and a long black coat instead of his usual jeans and bulky work coat. Dark glasses covered his eyes.

  One thing hadn’t changed. The connection between them instantly leapt to life—no, it had already burned with life. Now the link revived and strengthened as their eyes met. He took a step and then stopped, a question on his face. But she knew the answer. She ran to him, threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly. There was no need for words. He kissed her, his fingers tangling in her hair. For a long moment there was no one else in the huge room. People streamed past, miraculously parting around them.

  Magic.

  “Is there some reason you’re sopping?” she asked, when she could finally bring herself to speak. She was wide awake now, her every nerve alive with his nearness.

  He grinned. “There was a traffic jam. I jumped out of the truck and ran here.”

  “I see.” Her eyes flicked to the huge windows where, sure enough, snow still fell at a steady rate. “Ever hear of an umbrella?”

  “Madeline had—” He broke off and glanced away. She followed his gaze to an empty bench by a soda pop machine. She felt his body tense, his head jerking around, as he searched anxiously.

  “Daddy, are you finished kissing? Amy’s hungry, and we want to have a tea party.”

  Caitlin turned to see Madeline standing next to Amy, a wide smile covering her little face.

  Parker stared at her for barely a second. “No. I am definitely not through kissing Caitlin. Amy, make sure Madeline doesn’t run off.” With that, he turned Caitlin’s head and kissed her again. “I hope you came to stay,” he said against her lips. “And that you didn’t bring the police.” This last was said only half jokingly.

  She allowed herself another long kiss before replying. “No. To both questions.”

  “To both questions?” Hurt registered in his voice. “You won’t stay?”

  She took pity on him. “I’ve come to take you home.”

  “I can’t. You know that. Please stay, Caity. It won’t be as hard starting over as you might think. I’ve got good prospects here. We could have a family.”

  Her heart thundered in her chest. “Parker Hathaway, are you proposing?” For a moment she wished she didn’t have to tell him he was free from running, that she could agree to stay here with him for a few years—or forever—hiding away from the world.

  “I’m doing more than proposing.” The brown eyes staring into hers were serious. “I’m offering you my whole life, Caity. I love you. I know it’s a sacrifice leaving everything behind, but I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’m miserable without you.”

  His whole life—that’s what he was offering. No small thing. She wanted to accept his gift, but first she had to tell him everything. “There’s something you need to know. I was packing to come here when Sally found the proof we’ve been looking for.”

  She thought he’d ask about the proof, but instead he said, “You came even though you weren’t sure I was telling the truth?”

  “The proof was in here.” She put her hand to her heart.

  His eyes told her what that meant to him. “What did Sally find?”

  Glancing at the girls to make sure they couldn’t hear, she said quietly, “Dakota’s in jail. Reese ended up drinking water contaminated with meth chemicals. If you hadn’t taken Madeline away, there’s no telling what might have happened.”

  “The boy?”

  “He didn’t make it.” She winced at the pain in his face and at her own memory of that pale, still little body. “I’m so sorry. The good news is there’s not a prosecutor anywhere who would try to make kidnapping charges stick now. You’ll have to jump through a few hoops when you get
home, but I’m confident you will be completely exonerated.”

  “How am I going to tell her?” He glanced over her shoulder at Madeline. She was sitting on Amy’s suitcase, showing Amy her umbrella.

  “Maybe don’t say anything for a while. Just love her. It’ll be all right.” Caitlin drew Parker’s head down and kissed him again, wanting more than anything to take away his hurt. Though their mood had turned somber, the connection between them was as strong as ever.

  Some time later he drew away long enough to say, “Might be better for Madeline—for all of us—to stay here for a few years. If it’s still your dream. That’s why I chose Chicago.”

  All at once her confusion about the future faded away. No need to choose between jobs in Utah when she had everything she wanted right here. “We’ll stay, then. For now. But we’ll have to go back to clear things up.”

  “Of course.”

  He kissed her again, and she could feel the warmth flowing between them, evoking the promise of their future together.

  “I was so afraid you wouldn’t come,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I was so afraid you wouldn’t be waiting.”

  He made a noise in his throat. “As long as there’s any chance you want me, Caity, I’ll always be waiting. Always.” He kissed her one last time before drawing away and putting his arm possessively around her. “Come on, girls. Let’s go home.”

  Author’s Note

  Several years ago, shock radiated throughout Utah when an infant was found dead after ingesting methamphetamines she had found in a plastic bag on the floor of her home. What made this tragic circumstance even more notable and horrific is that weeks earlier her father had forcibly taken her from her mother and transported the baby across state lines, hoping to protect her from her mother’s substance abuse. Authorities found the little girl, placed her back with her mother, and sent the father to jail for assault and burglary. A little more than a week later the baby was dead, and the mother was charged with desecration of a corpse for moving the baby’s body to cover up her own drug abuse. All charges against the father were eventually dropped.

  Sadly, this is not the only story of a child becoming the victim of a parent’s drug use. In Tulsa, a young boy grabbed a drink of what he thought was water but which was actually lye used in making meth. He survived, but his esophagus was burned away, and he will never be the same. Other children who have ingested similar chemicals were not so fortunate.

  One mother, heavily doped up on drugs, accidentally rolled over and smothered her child as they napped together on the couch. A six-year-old boy showed law enforcement officers in detail how his daddy made drugs. In meth homes throughout the country, baby bottles share sinks and refrigerators with meth containers, and the drug is often made in the same kitchen where food is prepared. Poison is only inches away from dinner plates and glasses of milk. Law enforcement officers wear protective gear when dismantling these meth labs, but the children who live there are unprotected from the toxic fumes that saturate their bodies, clothing, and toys—if they are lucky to have such things. Often these houses have no food, no toilet paper, and no sheets on the beds. The children are completely neglected, and the houses are filthy. Many of these children show developmental delays, organ injuries from the fumes, heart problems, seizures, and violent behavior.

  Chief Deputy C. Philip Byers from the Rutherford County Sheriff’s Office in North Carolina writes: “In 2004, over 2700 children were found in methamphetamine labs seized by law enforcement officials nationwide. Children were present in 34 percent of the total lab seizures in the United States.”1

  Some of those children were injured or killed when the labs were seized. As shocking as that is, however, experts estimate that only a small proportion of meth labs are ever found.

  States seem to be losing the battle against methamphetamine addiction. Child welfare, law enforcement, substance abuse, and treatment systems are overloaded. Some estimate that more than 8.3 million children in the United States live with a parent who has a substance abuse issue. Nearly 2 million child abuse cases each year are investigated, and half a million of those have enough evidence to act on. Some 200,000 children are removed from their homes each year.2

  But what about the cases that aren’t proven? What about the children who fall through the cracks but are still at risk? To what lengths might a noncustodial parent be compelled to go to protect a child from danger?

  These were the questions I thought about as I began writing Saving Madeline. I wanted to show one man’s dilemma in balancing his need to protect his daughter against his duty to obey the law, and to depict his struggle in an overloaded system where there are no second chances for the innocent victims.

  Please keep in mind that though the idea for this novel was inspired by the numerous true stories I researched, the plot, characters, and resolution in Saving Madeline are completely fictional. No actual experiences or interviews of real people were used in the text itself.

  Neither does this story in any way reflect the life of the sweet Madeline to whom I dedicated this book. Though challenged with muscular dystrophy, that Madeline has the great good fortune to have been born to loving and responsible parents.

  Could a story such as that in Saving Madeline actually happen?

  I believe so. The outcome for my make-believe Madeline is what I wish could happen for similar little children caught in real-life tragedies. At the same time, the story is a heartfelt dedication to all those children who, like Madeline’s brother, Reese, have no one to fight for them and who do not survive.

  Notes

  ^1. http://www.sheriffs.org/userfiles/file/CongressionalTestimony/ Deputy_Philip_Myers_Testimony_on_Fight_Against_Meth.pdf

  ^2. http://www.gu.org/documents/A0/Impact_Meth_Abuse_on_ Children_ and_Families.pdf

  About the Author

  Rachel Ann Nunes (pronounced noon-esh) learned to read when she was four, beginning a lifelong fascination with the written word. She began writing in the seventh grade and is now the author of more than two dozen published books, including the popular Ariana series and the award-winning picture book Daughter of a King.

  Rachel and her husband, TJ, have six children. She loves camping with her family, traveling, meeting new people, and, of course, writing. She writes Monday through Friday in her home office, often with a child on her lap, taking frequent breaks to build Lego towers, practice phonics, or jump on the trampoline with the kids.

  Rachel loves hearing from her readers. You can write to her at [email protected]. To enjoy her monthly newsletter or to sign up to hear about new releases, visit her Web site, www.RachelAnnNunes.com.