Page 15 of Steadfast

Oakleigh stood to her feet, ready to head back upstairs and, no doubt, go straight to work on the church decor.

“And—Oakleigh?” Maeve spoke up, catching her attention. She paused, chewing on her lip nervously, wondering if she wanted to bring up the sensitive topic that she herself didn’t particularly enjoy. “I’m always here if you ever need to talk about your mom.”

The young woman stopped in her tracks, glancing up at the ceiling as though she was holding back a painful flood of words and feelings.

It was a hurt that Maeve knew all too well.

“You don’t ever have to worry about that,” Oakleigh replied, “I have nothing more to say abouther.” With the binder pressed under her arm, she disappeared through the living room and up the stairs.

Maeve picked up her mug by the handle and moved to the plush leather sofa in front of the roaring fireplace. It was her nightly custom to wait up for the boys to come home from practice. She loved to hear them excitedly rattle off all the great things they were accomplishing in preparation for the upcoming competition.

She took the moment of quiet solitude to pray for Oakleigh, as she often did.

Maeve knew how difficult it was to find peace amid the inner turmoil of a shattered family. As she considered, she still felt the sting from the memories of her own parents, whose sole purpose in life was to love her unconditionally. She was often dumbfounded over her sister, who experienced that same family dynamic and yet still repeated the toxic cycle with her own daughters.

Maeve found herself lost in thought as she gazed into the dancing flames of the fireplace. She recalled all that had transpired when she had arrived at that little coffee shop in White Bridge on that icy, cold Montana morning.

Chapter 6

Firecracker

Maeve & Abel

Maeve Underwood leaned her face against the window of the truck as it rumbled down the dirt road. She sat in the passenger seat of a blue pickup truck, its engine purring like a finely oiled machine.

“Nice truck.” Maeve made small talk, running her hand across the soft fabric bench seat.

“It’s my son’s pride and joy.” Ruth had a dash of pride in her eyes when she spoke about Abel. “He made me promise I’d keep it running while he’s away at school, so I drive it from time to time for him.”

Ruth seemed nice.

At just seventeen years old, Maeve found herself far from home and relying on the kindness of strangers. That morning, Ruth, who owned the coffee shop in the little town of WhiteBridge, had generously provided her with a hot meal and was now offering her a place to stay for the night.

Maeve practically pressed her face against the glass, taking in the lush green fields that made up Callaway Ranch. The mountain peaks in the distance surrounded the property like a protective hug. Tall trees adorned in autumn leaves looked like bright orange flames were peppered throughout.

“Is this really the largest ranch in the county?” she asked, echoing the conversation she had heard from some of the less welcoming locals.

“Yep, it sure is,” Ruth answered. “34,000 acres.”

“It’s like heaven,” Maeve said, not bothering to hold back the transparent compliment, as Ruth already felt like someone she could trust.

The ranch house was equally breathtaking and far more than she could have ever imagined. Ruth showed her to her room upstairs, which was modest compared to the grandeur of the rest of the home, but Maeve didn’t mind.

“Make yourself at home, dear,” Ruth said.

“I won’t be staying long,” Maeve replied rapidly, feeling the need to reassure her generous host that she wasn’t taking advantage of their hospitality. “Just the night, and I’ll be on my way.”

“You aren’t in our way, Maeve.” Ruth firmly reassured her, “You can plan to stay as long as you need.”

Ruth prepared a hot supper and introduced her to Roy. He was equally warm and welcoming as Ruth had been, with noindication that she was a burden to them in the slightest. She wasn’t sure how long she would stay, but around the dinner table, Maeve felt like she was a part of a family. It was as though, despite all of her life choices, God had blessed her by easing her painful loss ever so slightly.

That evening, Maeve went to her bedroom and flipped on the bathroom light. Her reflection in the mirror made her take a sharp sip of air. It was no wonder Ruth had been so concerned about her that morning when she had ushered her out of the cold and into the shop.

She was sheet white.

The dark circles under her eyes made her look as hollow and weak as she felt. Leaning heavily on the sink, she sensed a deep frailty she had never experienced before. Her midsection was still aching with cramps, and she was still losing more blood than she wanted to admit to herself. In the quietness of her room, she finally took a moment to reflect on all that had transpired that filled her future with so much uncertainty.

Weighted by her shame, Maeve never mentioned the events that led her to Montana. Even though she was sure they noticed how fragile she looked in those early days, Ruth never pried.

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