“Well, you could hang some artwork, obviously… maybe even frame some paintings of the residents of the sanctuary. Or pictures might be easier if you can’t find someone to do the paintings. But if you can find an artist, a mural might be really cool.” I walked up to the wall and began explaining my idea. By the time I was finished, I was practically breathless with excitement. Maddox was watching me with an expression I couldn’t make sense of and I felt embarrassed for going so overboard with what was supposed to have been a simple answer to his question. “Obviously, you’d want to go with whatever you like best and the artists you end up hiring will work with you to—”
“When can you start?”
“What?” I asked.
“Obviously, I’m going to have to tell Dallas about it at some point, but maybe you can mock something up in smaller form and it can still be a surprise?”
“What?” I croaked. “You want me to do it?”
“Did you really think I only wanted your opinion on hiring another artist, Ford?” Maddox asked. “You’re the perfect person for the job. You’ve got talent coming out of your ears and you know the animals and what this place stands for.”
“But… but I’m… Jimmy’s brother.”
“I understand that complicates things for you, Ford. So I understand if you want to say no—”
“For me? It complicates things for me?” I asked in disbelief. “No! No, it… it doesn’t, but your brother and Nolan… they must… and they wouldn’t…”
Maddox waited patiently as I tried to complete even one thought.
But I couldn’t even manage that.
I threw up my hands.
“Dallas and Nolan don’t hate you, Ford. In fact, they’re damn grateful to you.”
“For what?” I asked, my voice sounding strangled.
“For helping look for Newt the day he took off, for staying that day to take care of this place and helping out afterwards, for the helmet, for making it possible for us to take Newt on vacation, for keeping Jimmy from hurting Isaac—”
“Stop,” I whispered. “Please, just stop. I…”
I shook my head because I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. “You should hate me,” I managed to say. “You all should. I’m… I’m not a good person.”
Maddox eyed me for a moment. “So you’re not going to help me out with this?” he asked with a frown that was probably supposed to have been some kind of pout but just looked weird on such a big, scary guy.
“Are you really trying to guilt me into this?” I asked. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”
Maddox sighed and stepped closer to me but didn’t invade my space at all. “Unless you were living under a rock ten years ago, you know what I did to my brother,” he said.
I did know. Maddox had been so angry with Dallas for something he thought his brother had done that he’d cast him out of his life and had allowed his brother to become a pariah in the community – all because of a lie that their father had started.
Maddox carefully dropped his hand on my shoulder. “Last I checked, you haven’t done anything to hurt my brother or Nolan. If I’ve learned anything in the past ten years it’s that a person better damn well have some proof before they’re going to hold someone accountable for something. Stop trying to pay for Jimmy’s crime, Ford. If you don’t want this job, that’s fine, but tell me so, don’t—”
“I want it,” I blurted. “I do. I… I would love to do this for you… for Dallas.”
“Good,” Maddox said with a smile. “Walk me to the house and tell me more about your idea,” he added. “You can join us for lunch and pick your car for the Nifty Nails Classic race tonight.”
I opened my mouth to tell him there was just no way I could join them for lunch or dinner, but I snapped it shut just as quickly. Maddox was right. I couldn’t undo what Jimmy had done to this family and I couldn’t use the sanctuary as a means to atone for the sins I’d committed against others.
But I could still help out because it was the right thing to do.
Surely there was no harm in that.
Right?
Chapter Eleven
Cam
The anger that wasn’t really anger but fear wrapped up in anger, started to fall away the more I watched Ford work. His paintbrush moved frantically over the white wall in front of him, like he couldn’t get the color on it fast enough. He was wearing wireless headphones that were spattered with color and he’d taken off his shirt, shoes, and socks. The pants he was wearing were different than the ones he’d been wearing at dinner tonight.
A quick look around the room showed a neatly folded stack of clothes sitting on a chair in the corner near the window. There wasn’t any other furniture in the small space except a little table that held an array of paintbrushes and tubes of color spread out all over it. There were also a multitude of canvases, some blank, some streaked with color, leaning against one wall of the studio.