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Looking away from her wasn’t an option, even though it bruised all the way to the bone. She was so fucking gorgeous and defiant. And somehow,somehow, after the lie she told and truth she omitted, she had the upper hand.
I guess I’d given it to her. No, I knew I had. How could I be angry at her for keeping something from me when I hadn’t even considered telling her about escorting Abby tonight?
“You’re right. I wasn’t going to tell you.”
Her head turned, showing me the tight curve of her jaw. “That would have hurt me. Luckily, I don’t care anymore.”
My hand balled into a fist on the wall. “Helen…”
She cared.
She absolutely fucking cared. Seeing the slightest hint of vulnerability was like bamboo under my fingernails—torture I would have kept on taking if it meant seeing beyond her walls.
“You should get back to your girlfriend.” She tipped her face up to meet my gaze. Even in the shadows, her pain was evident. “She looks lovely tonight, Theo. You must be proud.”
Then she slipped under my arm, hurrying down the hall, leaving me reeling, like she always did. Only, this time, it was worse than ever. This wasn’t the beginning of something wild and crazy, but the period at the end of the biggest rush of my life.
When I got back to the table, Helen was once again rising from her seat and walking toward the stage with note cards in her hand.
“What’s she doing?” I asked Miranda.
Her head jerked toward me. “Helen is here to give a speech about Madeline McGarvey’s legacy, honey.”
“What?”
What?
Miranda patted my arm. “If you’ll turn on your ears and listen, I think you’ll understand.”
A spotlight shone down on Helen’s sleek, chocolate waves as she took her spot behind the podium, center stage. It was subtle, but I saw her nerves in the slight tremble of her hands, the press of her ruby lips, the bunching of her shoulders.
“Hi.” Feedback from the microphone squealed through the room. Helen laughed softly and adjusted it with her shaking hands. “Hi, I’m Helen Ortega.” She smiled, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she looked down at her note cards.
“I’m not an artist or an art major. I’m planning on becoming a nurse, actually. So, you might wonder what I’m doing here, standing on stage, speaking at a fundraiser for the art and design school. It’s simple, really. I’m here for Madeline.”
Abby looped her arm through mine and tried to lean into me. I shrugged her off and shot her a hard look that had her slumping back in her seat. This wasn’t her time. That had come and gone.
Helen shuffled her note cards, then looked up with shining eyes. “I grew up in a trailer park. I never intended on going to college, because, quite frankly, I couldn’t afford it and it wasn’t important to me. Then, I met Madeline. She saw me chasing three idiot guys out of a skate shop with a baseball bat and said, ‘That’s the girl I want by my side for the rest of my days.’ She offered me a job right then and there, and I couldn’t turn her down.”
I’m an idiot.I’ve been one since the day we met.
Miranda laid her hand over mine as she released a wet laugh. I’d only met Madeline a couple times, but I knew my stepmom had been devastated when she passed. Seeing Helen on stage, it was clear Miranda wasn’t the only one.
“Imagine knowing from the time you’re a kid that you won’t live past forty. That was Mads’s reality. She chose not to walk herself into an early grave, though. Instead, she lived as fully as she could. Mads grabbed hold of her life with both hands. Even when the ride was rough and it hurt—and god, did it hurt her—she kept going and going. She saw me with my trusty bat and recognized a kindred spirit. I don’t have CF, but the hand I was dealt since birth was—excuse my language—really shitty. I never once considered packing it in or burying my head in drugs or alcohol, though, just as Mads didn’t slow down until her body forced her to. But I don’t want you to think she stopped. She never, ever stopped.”
Helen swiped at her cheek and gave the audience another brave, wobbly smile as she shuffled her notes.
“If you knew Madeline McGarvey, no doubt you knew how important education was to her. Teaching at Savage U, her alma mater, was one of her greatest joys. Introducing art to those who’d previously found it inaccessible was her passion. The art and design school was her second home. So, you can imagine when Mads got her hands on me, a girl who’d never set foot in a museum, had no intention of seeking a higher education, and had never seen a foreign film in my life, she was giddy. I was signed up for online college courses before I knew what hit me. We took trips to every museum within driving distance. I picked up enough Italian and French from all the movies we watched, I could hold a conversation now.”
The room filled with soft, sad laughter, but I was filled with something else. Wonder, maybe. It buzzed low in my gut, impossible to ignore. How had I missed this? How had I spent every spare second with Helen and never known any of this? How had I not even come close to seeing her grief, which was lying so close to her surface, it was coming off her in waves?
Helen wiped her cheek again. “Madeline hired me to be her companion when it became clear her body couldn’t withstand another transplant or experimental treatment. Don’t take that as her giving up, though. Mads had accepted what was happening to her and filled every single day with art, beauty, adventure, and experiences. Because life is short, and it’s so damn unfair I could scream, but it can also be beautiful. Madeline McGarvey found that, and it was her livinganddying wish to spread that lesson.”
Helen sucked in a jagged breath. Miranda’s hand tightened over mine. I leaned forward, needing every single word and secret she was spilling from her red, red lips.
“I’m here tonight because of Madeline. My Mads. She couldn’t convince me to become an art major, but she did instill in me the importance of learning. I’m here, standing before you tonight, because of Madeline McGarvey. Because she saw something in me, believed in me, wanted more for me so fervently, I started to want more for myself. I know I’m only one person, but I bet you could ask any of Madeline’s students and they would have a story about the moment a flip switched in them because of her. She’s gone, but her legacy will live on. She made sure of that, through me, her past students, and the ones to come. The Madeline McGarvey scholarship will keep her passion going for years to come. She died knowing her legacy would be beauty and hope. Mads passed fully at peace.”
Helen choked out a sob, but she swallowed hard, holding back any more tears. Miranda had leaned into my father, whose arm was curled around her shoulders as she quietly cried.
