Page 53 of Risk It All
Chapter Eighteen
Madeleine
Ipush my horse hard as we gallop across the field toward the small lake nestled at the foot of the hills sitting at the back of my family's property. Riding has always been my savior since I was a young girl. Feeling the power of the horse, the wind as it streaks past, the occasional feeling of flying as we leap over downed trees and creeks, makes me feel alive again.
I slow as I come to woods that surround the lake. Weaving through the trees, I approach the edge of the water, letting my reins loosen so my horse can drink. I've spent a lot of time over the last many weeks in a jungle and forests, but the woods behind my parents' house are like home. A place where I can rest, think, and recuperate.
I should still be in Mexico, but I couldn't continue my work one day more. I'm tired and am suffering from brain fog. It's like my heart isn't in it anymore. Deciding I'm suffering from travel fatigue, I've come home. My parents are thrilled that I came home early and plan to stay a few weeks. I know they worry about me, even though they fully support me and are proud of my work.
As much as I need to be home, guilt burns deep. I’d told Max I couldn’t see him, that I couldn’t change any of my plans, and yet, here I had. I’d cut my Mexico trip short to come home.
Being home is nice, but I still can't rid myself of the exhaustion. Deep down, I know the source, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Eventually, Max will fade from my immediate memory and then I'll be able to go back to enjoying my life of adventure.
I can't stop the picture Chisara sent of him on his boat from popping into my mind. In it, he's smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Those beautiful, mischievous blue eyes. Or maybe it was the glare of the sun. It doesn't matter. What matters is that he's home, enjoying the fruits of his success.
Not that he hasn't followed through with his promises. Chisara gushed with all the attention and gifts Max has been bestowing on her and the hospital. I've heard through the grapevine that he's been giving money to charities that specialized in child labor issues around the world and is working to divest his companies from businesses that hurt children and the environment. He's a man of his word. I love him even more, which only breaks my heart further. It's making my life miserable.
“God, Madeleine. If Mom and Dad saw you ride like that, they'd never let you ride old Charlie again.” Emma rides up next to me.
“I didn't realize you were arriving today.”
“Yeah, well, Mom is worried about you, so I decided to come sooner.”
“Worried?”
“You're not yourself. That's what she says. You still look like crap. That's what I say.”
I feel like crap. “I took on too much work and it caught up with me. The travel, the intensity of the situations . . .”
Emma purses her lips. “And a man.”
“What are you talking about?” I scan my mind, but am unable to recall telling Emma about Max. I'm certain I haven't talked about him to anyone.
“You don't think Mom hasn't mentioned it to Eleanor, who, of course, has her own theory.”
“I don't know why I'm surprised that everyone is working to solve my problems, but hasn't actually talked to me.”
“I tried in New York before I want to Hawaii. I think people want to talk to you, but you don't make it easy.”
I dismount from my horse, not wanting to talk about it now.
“See. You're running away. What's the big deal, Madeleine? Talking about it can't make it any worse and it might make it better.”
“It won't make it better.” Talking won't change the fact that I'm in love with a man that I can't make a life with.
Emma dismounts from her horse. “Is it like Chase?”
“No.”
“I looked him up. Max Delecoeur. At least that's who Eleanor says it is.”
“Why does everyone think it's a man?” I snap. “In two months, I've been on two continents and four countries. Not sipping Mai Tais on the beach, but talking to children who were forced into labor camps, running from poachers, trying to convince people that the planet is dying.”
Emma holds her hands up defensively. “Whoa there, sister. Calm down.”
I shake my head and try to rein in the despair that's precariously close to bringing me to my knees. “Sorry.”
“If that's what it is, then why not talk about it? I mean, you're going to write about it, right? But everyone thinks you're keeping something in. For once I agree with them, and they agree with me, which you know never happens.”
