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Path of Truth

By CG Clark

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It was a quiet place, a sanctuary where one could think and not have to be someone else to benefit others. Rain fell softly on the roof overhead, acting as white noise to drown out the muffled voices winding their way upward, insisting on invading the calm. It took concentration to block those voices, but the effort was well-practiced. Soon, only the sound of the rain remained, preserving the solitude for a bit longer.

For Madison Jenkins, living in a group foster home meant a lot of shared space and little privacy. However, everyone seemed to respect a closed attic door. For that, she was grateful, especially today. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so off-balance. The last thing she needed was companionship.

The boy had called out from across the lunchroom table. “Don’t you ever want to meet your real mother? Hey, Maddie. Did you hear me?”

“My name is Madison.”

No one called her Maddie. That was too familiar—too personal, and he didn’t know her well enough for that.

“I like Maddie better.” His sneer had matched his tone, and several others around him snickered. “Maybe, if you went by Maddie, you wouldn’t be so stuffy. So, what about it? Wouldn’t you like to ask your mom why she didn’t keep you?”
She had only stared at him, unblinking. The first question did not sting as much as the second one. Even worse, it had dogged her for the rest of the day.

Madison could only remember living in foster homes. One was no worse than the next. Most were simply a place where she could lay her head and get a decent meal. None had offered any semblance of an actual home. She was a paycheck from the state—no caring, no compassion, nothing more required.

Over the years, Madison quickly learned how to shield herself from feeling rejected and abandoned by keeping to herself. To some, she was antisocial, and to others, hostile and rebellious—changing that perspective meant getting to know her. Based on experience, foster families never tried, so she didn’t either. It never took long for her antisocial behavior to become more than they wanted to deal with, and she was quickly on her way to another foster family. The latest was Brandon and Julia Capwell’s group home.

Before the Capwells, Madison had lived in eleven foster homes throughout the state. Even though Brandon and Julia knew her background, they welcomed her without questions or conditions. They treated her like family from the moment they met her, but Madison had been down this road before. She wouldn’t let her guard down to be disappointed again.

The Capwells lived on ten acres of land in a sprawling two-story Victorian with a wrap-around porch flanked by a garden that easily supported the needs of those who lived there. A fenced pasture with horses and a traditional, red-washed barn completed the typical rural American farm image. It was, by all appearances, the picture-perfect country home.

She hadn’t been there long, but to those who lived there, Madison quickly realized it was more than a house on a farm. Seven other foster children between the ages of six and seventeen acted like blood relatives, and this place was their home.

Madison’s idea of family meant people living under the same roof that honestly cared about and supported each other. In her experience, the whole concept was a fantasy. Believing anything else meant opening herself up to pain and disappointment. It was much easier to bury such thoughts. Today, a question voiced out of morbid curiosity dragged everything into the open and shoved it in her face.

Madison couldn’t remember the last time she had given her birth mother a passing thought, much less wonder if the woman was still alive. Billy’s question kept needling her, finally driving her to the gabled nook in the attic to sit and stare out a small oval window at the rain.

Footsteps on the stairs caught her attention and then a young boy’s voice.

“Madison. Dinner’s almost ready, and it’s your turn to set the table.”

Joining them meant trying to hide her internal conflict behind a mask. They would see through her in a second, and sharing wasn’t on her list of options, but the boy wasn’t ready to give up.

“Madison. I know you’re up there. Please come down.”

“I’m coming, Peter.”

Peter Hartwell was twelve and small for his age. He was also the perfect person to send after her. Peter was like a bloodhound and could find her no matter where she hid. He also had a streak of unwavering determination, which meant he wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was coming.

She sighed and looked out the small rain-streaked window again before sliding her feet off the bench to vacate her hideout.

Madison could hear them talking and laughing as she descended the stairs. She hesitated at the top and felt her heartbeat quicken. They were all products of circumstances they couldn’t control, just like her.

Do they honestly feel as happy as they sound? How do they do it? How do they camouflage their feelings without pushing people away?

Even as Madison stood there, she knew she had to join them. If she didn’t, Peter would return more tenacious than ever. When she reached the last step, all the voices stopped as two adults and seven children turned toward the arched doorway where she stood. She stared back at them, and it seemed like time froze. Then her foster mother broke the silence.

“Madison. There you are. We were wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

Julia knew where Madison was. It was her way of saying she knew something was wrong.

Two of the seven children rushed over to her, wrapping their skinny, six-year-old arms around both thighs. They were the twins—the boy’s name was Evan, and the girl’s, Embry.

“We loth you.” The two sounded like one voice. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Evan held up a stack of napkins. “Ith your turn to set the table.” His smile was big and snaggle-toothed.

“Yeth.” Embry echoed. Her smile revealed the same missing front teeth. “Ith your turn.” She held up a handful of silverware.

Madison took the napkins and silverware without a word. Neither child noticed her mood as they guided her into the dining room.

“We’ll help.” They spoke together again and snatched napkins, forks, spoons, and knives back out of Madison’s hands.

Watching the two blonde heads bobbing up and down was almost comical as they skipped around the large oval table. They danced from chair to chair, depositing flatware and napkins at each place.

She might have laughed if she had not been so absorbed by her thoughts. Instead, she followed in silence as they emptied her hands of the items they gave her. Before she knew it, each place had its settings, and as if on cue, everyone else appeared with bowls and platters of steaming, delicious-smelling food.

Madison watched as the food crossed paths with pitchers and glasses. Somehow, everyone avoided inevitable collisions while carrying on multiple conversations. It was the same dance every night and never ceased to amaze her. She jumped as an unseen hand tousled her hair and looked up to see a slender, good-looking young man grinning at her.

“Have a seat, short-stuff. Relax. Your job is done for the moment, even though you had help.” He winked and plopped down on the chair next to her.

His name was Jacob Abernathy. He was her age but almost a foot taller and considered himself everyone’s older brother and protector. His smile became a frown as he searched her face from beneath long, dark lashes. “You okay?”

“Oh, she’s brooding over some idiot’s comment at lunch today.”

Madison jerked her head toward the person who spoke.

Angus Spencer was a year younger than Jacob, and the two were complete opposites. Jacob was the peacemaker, while Angus thrived on mayhem, which was why he spoke up. Before she could respond, Angus placed his napkin in his lap and continued. His face was blank, but there was a hint of cynical amusement in his tone.

“Nothing is sacred in the lunchroom, Madison. You know that. The minute Billy Endicott turned you into a mute, it was all over the school.”

“What’s this?” Brandon looked from Jacob to Angus to Madison and back again, expecting an answer.

Madison dropped her eyes to focus on the empty plate in front of her. She didn’t want to let Angus bait her, but he seemed determined to get a reaction. She could see Jacob from the corner of her eye, sending silent signals for Angus to stop.

Instead, Angus raised his chin in defiance, turned toward Brandon, and expanded his narrative. “Billy Endicott interrogated Madison at lunch. He wanted to know if she planned to find her real mother and ask why she gave Madison away.”

“What?” The uptick at the end of Julia’s question suggested she expected an explanation.

Madison looked up and found nine pairs of eyes trained on her.

“She just sat there and stared at him, no comment, nothing.” Angus gestured at her. “Sort of like she’s doing right now.”

Brandon lowered his chin. “Angus. That is quite enough.”

The timbre of his voice was low and commanding, and everyone knew it meant the subject was closed. Madison knew it also meant Brandon and Julia would snag her for a private meeting later. It stifled her appetite, but she forced herself to take her usual portions. She was determined to sway any ideas that Angus’s monologue had affected her.

The typical multiple conversations bounced around the table during the rest of the meal. Madison offered the obligatory one-word answer or head nod at the proper time. Still, she knew Julia saw right through her.

Everyone helped with the after dinner cleanup, then headed to their respective rooms, except Madison. She remained in the quiet kitchen, putting away the last clean platters, hoping the silence meant she would escape further interrogation. When two stools moved behind her, that notion vanished, and she turned to find Julia and Brandon sitting on the other side of the kitchen island, focused on her.

“Coffee?” Madison didn’t wait for their answer but quickly filled two cups with the brew, sugar, and cream. It didn’t delay the inevitable. Julia spoke first.

“Do you want to talk about what happened this afternoon?”

Madison inhaled, looked down at the counter, and exhaled slowly. Brandon’s face was hard to read when she looked up. Julia’s expression was much easier—the classic are-you-okay look a mother would use.

“I’m okay.” The comment was mainly for Julia’s sake. “Really. Billy just caught me off-guard. That’s all.”

Julia’s expression shifted from concern to annoyance. “It was an insensitive thing to say to you.”

Brandon looked at Madison. “What started the conversation?”

Madison shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Someone was talking about a shopping trip with their mom, and Billy asked me about mine. I told him that Julia and I went shopping, and he said he didn’t mean my foster mom. He meant my real mom. I didn’t answer, and he didn’t let up. He kept asking if I wanted to know why she gave me up.”

Brandon looked down at his coffee cup as if inspecting its contents. Madison hadn’t been with them long, but she was a quick study. She saw the vein near his right temple pulse as he tried to keep his temper in check.

Julia never attempted to conceal her feelings. “So incredibly callous.”

Madison shrugged her shoulders again. “That’s just Billy being Billy. When I didn’t respond, he figured he had made his point and moved on to something else. When he left, everyone went with him. I didn’t know it had become a school-wide topic of conversation until Angus brought it up.”

Julia gawked from Madison to Brandon and back again. “Everyone left? They just left you sitting there … alone?”

Madison shifted her weight but didn’t look up. “It doesn’t matter. They were only there for the spectacle, anyway.”

Brandon tipped his head. “Do you usually eat alone?”

“It’s only been a month.” Madison focused on the dishtowel she was folding. “I’ve been concentrating on my classes, trying to get caught up.”

Brandon finished his coffee before standing. He paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “You know you have a home here, right?”

Madison nodded and looked away. “Yeh. Sure.”

“This home is not like the others. We are a family here, and now you are part of that family. You’re always entitled to your privacy, but we want you to know you can come to us with anything. No judgment. We are here for you.”

“I get it.”

She kept fiddling with the folded dishtowel but could see Brandon from the corner of her eye. He nodded once before he left the kitchen. Julia lingered while Madison cleaned the coffee pot and reset it for breakfast. After a few minutes, Julia placed the cups in the dishwasher, closed the door, and pressed the start button. She gently placed her hand on Madison’s shoulder, left it there for a moment, then left the kitchen.

Madison stared out the kitchen window as a stray tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. She swiped it away, lay the folded towel on the counter, and walked out of the room.

As she reached the stairs, she could hear voices from the basement—Peter and Jacob were playing video games. Angus was probably in the boys’ room, steering clear of the others to avoid any verbal backlash from his earlier outburst. Everyone else was likely to be upstairs.

Evan and Embry should be in bed but probably not asleep. When she reached the top step, their hushed voices confirmed her suspicions. Their bedroom door was closed, but she could hear them attempting to whisper. They hadn’t mastered the technique and didn’t understand the concept that sound carried through solid objects.

Madison heard Embry’s soft, childlike voice. “Madithon looked tho thad.”

“If I had been there, I would have thocked that Billy in the nothe.” Evan’s anger converted the whisper into a hoarse growl.

Madison bit her lip and lowered her head to continue past their door. She nearly collided with a robed figure struggling with the towel on their head as they exited the bathroom. Madison recognized the voice—it was Colleen.

“Oops. Sorry.” She adjusted the towel again. “Darned thing won’t stay put.”

Colleen Newsome was the eldest of the foster group. Even though she wasn’t much taller, Madison always felt like the girl towered over her. Colleen was seventeen, a senior in high school, and probably the most confident of everyone in the house. Once she had the cloth tucked, Colleen rapped on the twins’ door.

“You two should be asleep, not chit-chatting. Tomorrow is a school day.”

The twins called out in unison. “Yeth, ma’am.” Giggles followed.

“Go—to—sleep.” Colleen repeated the order a little more sternly, then headed down the hallway as if she knew they would follow her command without question.

Madison lingered for a moment, and all she heard was silence. So apparently, Colleen’s authority was still undisputed. Speechless, Madison followed Colleen down the hallway to the bedroom set aside for the girls in the foster group.

Madison shared a room with Colleen and another girl, Elizabeth Griffin, better known as Bess. Bess was fourteen and in that awkward stage between being a little girl and growing into a young woman. She was exceptionally bright and preferred books and computers to people. It made her an easy target for those who didn’t understand her, but it didn’t bother her. It was as if Bess could see past the teasing to the insecurities behind the comments. The same talent allowed her to understand Madison’s struggle to adjust.

Bess looked up when Madison entered the room. “You doing okay?”

Madison glanced in Bess’s direction and nodded, not breaking stride toward her corner of the room.

“Angus shouldn’t have said what he did.” Bess pushed her glasses up her nose. “He can be such a jerk sometimes.”

“Angus likes the limelight.” Colleen’s back was to them as she sat at the vanity and scrutinized her image in the mirror. “We all have defense mechanisms to make ourselves feel better. Angus likes people to think he has his finger on the pulse of what’s happening. It’s the whole knowledge-is-power thing.”

Bess stared at Colleen, unblinking, with her mouth hanging open. Madison was not sure if her expression was one of admiration or bewilderment. Either way, Colleen had a way of explaining things in a matter-of-fact manner that left no room for argument. This time was no exception.

Madison shucked her shoes, nudged them under her bed, then sat cross-legged on the mattress with her back against the wall. As Madison pulled her laptop from her backpack, she wondered what Colleen would say was her defense mechanism … probably isolation. She would be correct, and it had always worked well until now.

The Capwells acted as if her antisocial behavior didn’t exist. They respected her space but didn’t worry about voicing their opinions. It felt unsettling and yet strangely comforting. She had to admit this place was different, but she didn’t know how she fit into their dynamic.

Madison sighed, pushed the thought aside, and focused on homework. Two hours later, her laptop display was the only light in the room. Bess and Colleen were both curled up in their beds, fast asleep, and Madison supposed she should do the same.

When she crept toward the bathroom, she noticed a sliver of light under Brandon and Julia’s door and could hear their muffled voices. A thought made her grin.

I guess they don’t know sound carries any better than the twins.

Then she thought she heard her name and paused outside their door.

Julia’s softer voice sounded worried. “I’m not sure how to get through to her.”

“She’ll come around.” Brandon sounded tired. “We need to continue reassuring her that she has a home here. Based on her file, I don’t think she’s ever had anyone treat her like she matters, much less belongs. She’s built some pretty thick walls.”

“I know. It breaks my heart.”

“Trust is earned. We need to prove she can trust us.”

“How? She’s been here for a month and is just as closed off as she was on the first day.”

“We don’t give up. We won’t give up. We can’t.”

Madison exhaled. Why do they bother?

She shook her head and continued down the hallway, missing the floorboards that would creak and announce her presence. Minutes later, she was back in bed with no one the wiser.

Still, sleep did not come easily. Madison had discarded the idea of finding her biological mother years ago. Thanks to Billy, she couldn’t get it out of her head.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling and focusing on her breathing, long-practiced methods meant to bury unwelcome thoughts. Within minutes, she felt much more relaxed. So, she turned to face the wall, punched her pillow one more time, settled into it, and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was asleep.

***

In the darkest corner of the room, a figure stood and watched Madison’s shoulders rise and fall as she slept. Then, after a few minutes, the figure stepped backward and melted into the shadows, vanishing as if it had never been there.

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