Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(9)

“I heard something was wrong with your mother,” said Turk now, bouncing Fidelia on his lap.

“Yes,” Madison said thinly, and I couldn’t read her tone. “She’s got pancreatic cancer.”

Turk raised his eyebrows. “Pancreatic? That can be quite…” Tactfully, he didn’t finish.

“Aggressive,” I filled in for him. “Yes, it is. She’s estimated to be stage three, but like I was just telling Maddy, she’s only been to one doctor.”

This was the part where, normally, Turk would have reminisced something pleasant about Ingrid, but I could tell there was nothing there for him to say. I could see him look desperately into the corners of Ford’s office, at the bookshelf, at his collection of toy loaders and excavators, floundering for something positive to say.

Madison didn’t help him out, either. She was just going to leave him high and dry. She sat with her lips firmly compressed, and I didn’t have big hopes for this meeting. Finally Turk said, “She was always such a character.”

It was Madison who snorted, not me! “That’ll be on the old witch’s gravestone. ‘She was such a character.’ If anyone shells out for a gravestone.”

Turk was trying to be more charitable. “No, no, I meant that…she’s always been a very unique and singular person.”

Now Madison made a lip fart. “You don’t need to step so lightly, Turk. You know she was just a mean old bitch.”

Turk smiled and nodded. “Yes. I guess I just feel there must be some good in everyone. I mean, she must’ve had a reason to be the way she was.”

“Her childhood trauma?” I blurted out, surprising even myself. “Try causing us childhood trauma.”

Madison laughed fully now, and looked about to high five me. She pointed at me instead. “See?” she said to Turk. “Even the chosen one can’t find a single good thing to say about her.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” I protested. “I can think of lots of good things to say about Ingrid. She tried. You have to hand her that. She tried, in her own twisted way, to be a mother.”

Madison was back to snorting. “Yeah. She just should’ve never been a mother. I don’t know why she didn’t stop at me. Why’d she keep on, having you and Speed?”

“Oh, cumon,” said Turk. “You must have some good memories.”

Madison’s reaction was immediate. “No. Not one. Not the tiniest one.”

I tried harder. “I remember when I was in kindergarten, she was a teacher’s assistant at our school. She would tell the most interesting fairy tale stories to the kids.”

“Yeah,” said Madison. “That was before Dad left her, before she became a few Bradys short of a bunch.”

I kept on. “So you do remember her, teaching us to ride bikes?”

Apparently not. “No. My friend taught me how to ride by pushing me down the hill on my bike.”

“And she used to sew us clothes. Of course I got your hand-me-downs, but Turk, you should’ve seen some of the stuff she sewed. She was really quite good. I remember this one cute little dress with blue flowers embroidered—”

“Give it a rest, sister,” Madison snapped, getting to her feet. Evidently thinking of our mother drove her to drink, for she went to a credenza behind Ford’s desk and unscrewed the cap on a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Again, that was before Dad left.”

“At least she struggled to hold it together back then.”

Madison shrugged. “It must’ve been a mighty big struggle, because the second Dad left, she became one accordion short of a polka band.”

Turk chuckled. “Maddy, you’re on a roll today.”

She took a sip from her glass. “I’ve got a million of them. Ah. Okay Turk, if you take Fidelia down to the parking lot, Lupe’s there in her Honda to take her home for a nap. I thought I’d take this opportunity to get my hair done.”

Turk took the cue. Standing, he let Maddy sling the baby whatnot bag over his shoulder while he took little Fidelia by the hand. It was an adorable sight, really, the juxtaposition of the bad boy biker, his dusty bicep covered with ink, holding the hand of the toddler with the droopy drawers. It touched some weird maternal part of me I hadn’t known existed. I was an aunt! It was almost as good as being a mother—another thing I hadn’t known I wanted.

When Turk left, Madison refilled her glass of Jack, as if prepared for a really good, long shopping and pampering trip. She looked me right in the eye. “I don’t want Fidelia knowing that old bat.”

I closed my eyes patiently. “I get it, Madison. Ingrid would be a horrible grandmother, anyway. Would she ever babysit, even if she wasn’t sick? No, she would not. She hates children, plain and simple.”

“You got that right.” Madison took her seat again.

“But look at it this way. If she hadn’t of had us, we wouldn’t know each other.”

That made Madison smile. “True that. I’m glad you’re back, June. How long will you stay before jetting off to some other godforsaken third world country?”

“Well, I didn’t finish out my contract in Kenya. I could always re-up for another two years anyway, I’m sure. I was building water irrigation schemes for tribespeople, which is really frustrating when there is no water. It hasn’t rained much there in years.”