Page 38 of Sparks Still Fly

“O. What’s going on? Why do you both look like you haven’t slept, and why is the tension so thick in here I can hardly see through it?” Lainey’s eyes, bright green like mine and our dad’s, are pleading and full of concern.

“Do you know, Bon?” Maeve looks at me, then at my sister. Her hands in fists at her sides.

Adam’s hand comes to rest protectively around my sister’s shoulder, as though he can sense the danger of Maeve asking a question through clenched teeth.

“Know what, Mae?” Lainey’s concerned eyes don’t leave her best friend.

“Why Owen ghosted you. Us. Everyone. Because he won’t tell me, and I’m tired of feeling this angry about it.” I can see how red her eyes are, and I wonder how much sleep she’s lost these past two nights because of me. I’m so sick of being the reason people are tired or stressed.

“Yes. I know. But it’s not my story to tell, Maeve.” Lainey looks at me, and there’s sympathy in her eyes. Despite not knowing what happened with Maeve and I all those years ago, she understands everything that happened after. “I will say that if that’s all this is about, then you have nothing to be angry at. You two need to talk this out. And if us being here is going to be this awkward, we can go.”

“No,” Maeve responds. “Please stay.” She takes a deep breath in. “Maybe we can go and see the horses again? Do you think Arthur would be okay with that, Owen?”

Her face grows expressionless, her eyes closed off and distant. She inhales deeply as if to lock away all of her emotions. Her fists ball up tightly until her knuckles are white, then relax as she exhales, all evidence of turmoil gone. I don’t know how she does this.

“Of course. They’re your— We can go see the horses anytime you want, Maeve.” My eyes are heavy, my head is pounding, and my thoughts are a jumbled mess; every word I’ve spoken to Maeve in the last few days has been replaying in a loop in my mind.

My chest aches as I fight the urge to blurt out what I’m feeling. Clearly, therapy has been working a little too well if I can go from being completely shut down to ready to spill my guts. Now I know the price I had to pay for my silence all those years ago. And I’m not willing to eat that cost ever again.

I’m not sure if Maeve is even ready to hear it, but the words are poised on the tip of my tongue. They always are with her. And yet nothing comes out. Not the right things, anyway.

Unaware of the battle waging inside my brain, Lainey turns to me. “Shall we?”

I nod in response. “Let’s drive over. It looks like it might rain today.” It’s rare, but it does rain here.

“I’ll drive myself so I know how to get there.” Maeve doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ll just grab some proper shoes quickly.” In a flash, she’s gone, and I feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Lately, it feels hard to breathe when she’s close by, but it’s nearly impossible when she’s far away.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Owen. I did not read the room well before I asked about married life.” Adam scratches his head, giving me a pitiful look.

“Not your fault, man. She hates me.” I try to swallow past the words, but it feels like there’s a tennis ball in my throat.

“She doesn’t. She’s just angry because she doesn’t understand. You two had gotten close before Dad’s death, and then everything changed. Just talk to her.” I shrug my shoulders, but I don’t have a clue how I’m going to do that. I thought I did, but when I’m near her none of the words I had prepared in my head make sense. Especially not now.

Maeve comes back, sticking her head through the door. “Ready?”

She’s swapped her sandals for tall riding boots under her dress, and the large package that arrived for her yesterday makes perfect sense now. We all move toward the door and something eases inside me knowing she’ll at least be happier around the horses and my sister.

21/

since when are you the town grump?

owen

ARTHUR:

Maeve was here again. She’s really great with these horses.

ARTHUR:

When are you going to tell your wife these horses are hers, you big wuss?

OWEN:

Mind your own business, old man.

ARTHUR:

I’m literally one year older than you, asshole.

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