Page 26 of Steadfast

“I’ll never be that person you think I can be,” Oakleigh whispered, wiping her cheeks with the back of her wrist.

“I was once standing right where you are, feeling defeated, thinking that I could never be more than I was,” Maeve went on to explain. “By God’s grace and a lot of patience from Ruth Callaway, the Lord got ahold of me when I was at my lowest—”

Chapter 9

Wild

Maeve & Abel

Maeve stood in the kitchen that morning sipping coffee and enjoying a long chat with Ruth while she finished drying the dishes. They had finally conceded to Abel’s plan, allowing him to sell the land and use the money to pay off their debt. Callaway Ranch was now fully invested in the business of bucking bulls, which brought fresh winds of change and a feeling of optimism.

Eager to be as essential as possible to the Callaways, Maeve spent her time learning everything she could about making coffee and keeping the ranch running smoothly.

She leaned back on the counter, taking a long drink of the simple black coffee she had become so fond of. There was nothing really simple about it, though. Ruth had taught her the difference between dark roasts and mild. She learned to identify the ones that were smokey and those that had subtlehints of rich dark chocolate. She cherished her time spent with Ruth and was grateful for the experience and wisdom she offered so freely.

She had an irrepressible smile as she recalled the part of her day she enjoyed most of all.

Her long afternoons with Abel.

With a quick shake of her head, she dashed away her wandering thoughts. “Anything I can help you with, Ruth?” Maeve asked.

“It’s your day off, hun,” Ruth answered, wiping her soapy hands on her apron. “Abel’s breaking that new mare he got at auction. Why don’t you go join him?” she said with a sly wink. “Someone’s got to make sure that boy doesn’t break his neck.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine without me.” Maeve shrugged, casually taking another sip of her steaming hot brew. She knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Her feelings for Abel were painfully obvious. The one secret she had managed to hide from everyone, including Ruth, which was no easy task – was that she was tarnished. Because of her past choices, she would never allow herself to hold Abel back from his seemingly unbridled potential. Maeve was already praying for the woman who would eventually steal Abel’s heart, and in the midst of it, she asked the Lord to steady hers.

“I almost forgot,” Ruth chimed. Her expression turned to concern as she went to the dining room and plucked an envelope off the table. “This came for you today.” She had a pained look as she handed her the piece of mail.

Maeve flipped the envelope to the address. Her eyes were drawn immediately to what she recognized as her mother’s handwriting scribbled across the front in a bright red marker.

REFUSED.

RETURN TO SENDER.

Feeling a lump forming in her throat, Maeve pushed the feelings down deep. “Well, that’s it then,” she resigned, slipping the envelope into her back pocket. Her family’s further rejection of her was even more validation that Abel needed to find a woman from a stable background. He deserved a wonderful, supportive family who would invite him in with open arms.

“I’m sorry for asking you to send that letter, Maeve,” Ruth vocalized her thoughts, her gaze having an uncharacteristic flash of frustration. “I just didn’t want your mom to fret. Lord knows I’d be pacing the room if my daughter went missing.”

Maeve knew it wasn’t Ruth’s fault.

She hadn’t told her about the humiliation she had brought on her family. She should have known better than to make herself vulnerable again to those who had wounded her so profoundly.

“It was the right thing to do,” she whispered, attempting to keep Ruth from shouldering the blame.

There was another reason Maeve had agreed to write home, one that she couldn’t quite explain even to herself.

“I just wish—” she couldn’t stop her emotion from choking her voice, “I just wish I could explain some things to my sister. Maybe she would understand if I could just talk to her one more time.” Harper had been unspeakably terrible, but despite all of the harsh memories, Maeve still felt an unrelenting need to pray for her.

Ruth distractedly patted her already dry hands on a dish towel and set it on the counter. Maeve knew the telltale signs that Ruth had something else she wanted to say but clearly wasn’t sure if she should say it. Finally coming to terms with her decision, she broke the silence.

“Maeve, I want you to know something,” Ruth began. “I don’t know much about your past—”

Her anxiety began to kick up a notch, and she felt panicked excuses begin to tumble toward her lips.

“That’s your business.” Ruth simply put up her hand, exuding her enduring sense of calm that Maeve had come to trust and making it clear that it was her time to speak.

“What I do know is that you may never get the apology you want,” Ruth went on. “People are funny like that. They’d rather choose their pride than admit they’re sorry, even if it costs them the one they love. You can’t control them, Maeve, but you can keep that hurt you’re feeling from turning into bitterness,” Ruth said, her eyes glinting with care. “Don’t let weeds grow in the cracks they left behind and ruin the garden God has planned for you—and he’s got a plan foryou, Maeve.”

That sunny afternoon, Maeve found herself leaning her elbows on the iron fence of the corral while Abel and the ranch hands were attempting to tame the wild, chocolate brown mare. She picked her nails clean of the dirt from the afternoon chores and mused on the fact that Ruth had gotten her way, as usual.

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