Page 4 of Steadfast

Come on, Oaks, get moving.

Giving herself a quick pep talk, she nabbed her phone off the nightstand, tapped the Bible on her screen, and scrolled through a few verses. She was trying to do better about spending time with the Lord each day, which Maeve had often gently nudged to prioritize.

She pulled on her outfit and ran a brush through her long blonde hair. Giving herself a cursory glance in the bathroom mirror at her cozy yoga pants and t-shirt, it was undeniable that she lookedexhausted.

Oakleigh creaked open her bedroom door and peeked into the hall.

The house was quiet.

She did her best to avoid disturbing her sleeping housemates, especially Sawyer, who had been nearly unbearable in recent days. His long hours and tireless devotion to the ranch had finally thrown a wedge into his relationship with Bethany. Oakleigh was truthfully in awe that Bethany had held on as long as she had, knowing her gentle kindness could only balance out Sawyer’s rough edges for so long.

She winced as she hit the last squeaky stair, which seemed blaringly loud in the stillness of the sweeping living room. The sizeable elegant fireplace was already roaring with a crackling fire. In the dim glow, she could make out the leather sofas and the hand hewn coffee table that Abel had constructed in his spare time. The history embedded in every piece of furniture made the ranch house feel like a home.

The earthy, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled her lungs.

It was no surprise at all when she found Maeve in the kitchen, immersed in her early morning routine. Leaning against the marble kitchen counter, she sipped her piping hot black coffee from her favorite mug. Maeve looked young for her age, even though she would be amused by anyone saying as much. Despite making comments about finding even more wisps of gray in her dark brown hair and fine lines around her eyes, there was a youthfulness and joy that even the recent years of heartache couldn’t overshadow.

“Good morning,” grumbled Oakleigh, the grogginess of the morning edging its way into her voice.

Maeve brightened.

It was obvious she had come to enjoy what had become their daily tradition of early morning conversations over coffee. Without needing any prompt, she reached high into the cabinet and pulled down a mug.

“I can see you’re tired too,” she observed. “Hopefully, this helps.” Lifting the old coffee percolator from the stove, she tipped it gently, filling the cup nearly to the brim. She topped the coffee with cream, and a few spoonfuls of sugar. Giving it a quick stir, she passed it into Oakleigh’s eager hands.

It was, of course, just the way she liked it.

When Oakleigh took her first sip, the piping hot, rich brew washed away the exhaustion that nagged at her foggy mind.

The two women stood in the kitchen sipping from their mugs in a mutual silence in the quiet peace of the early morning.

“It’s going to be a late breakfast today,” Maeve finally spoke up. “I’m letting the boys sleep in.”

“It’s fine,” Oakleigh shrugged. “I’ll just eat at the shop.”

“Coffee is not breakfast, Oakleigh,” Maeve said with a skeptical tone as she lifted an eyebrow.

“You should probably take your own advice,” Oakleigh quipped as she drank down the last drop.

“You’re probably right about that,” Maeve admitted with an amused smile. “Just please get the coffee shop open on time today. I’m tired of getting calls.”

Oakleigh shrugged away Maeve’s concerns.

In the short time she had managed Ruth’s Coffee Shop, she had learned that there was absolutely no way to please everyone, even though she had tried. Although she would never admit it, facing the daily grind of demanding customers was wearing her down.

Oakleigh had spent the last year showing off the tiny country town on her social media, admittedly with intentional angles and filters that made the run down Main Street look as pretty as a picture. She used her expert eye for aesthetics to brand it as a corner of the world frozen in time, away from the seemingly unending hustle that lay outside of the safety of those city limits. Keeping her followers informed on the progress of White Bridge Community Church, she had highlighted everystep of the building process. Even months later, the crowdfund was still bringing in a massive amount of funds to finish the rebuilding project.

She had become so proud of her coffee making skills that she couldn’t help but post endless pictures of lattes with beautiful leaf designs made in the foam. The piping hot giant cinnamon rolls right out of the oven were so delectable that she couldn’t stop herself from recording as she drizzled them with sweet white frosting. Through it all, Oakleigh had unwittingly caused White Bridge to become a trending location.

Oakleigh savored the peace and quiet as she went to do her chores in the barn. She stopped to give each horse a gentle scratch on the nose. The animals were a few of her customers who never complained, only offering a soft whinny as the pellets clattered into the trough. Having proven herself useful in other areas around the ranch, she rarely had to do the filthy job of mucking stalls anymore.

It was too bad, really.

Her online audience clamored to watch her shovel the filthy hay off the barn floors.

Once all her work was done, she hurriedly bounded up the stairs to her room to change. The feeling of the grime that clung to her sweat and coated her skin was one of the lessglamorous parts of ranch life that she didn’t often highlight in her livestreams.

Oakleigh stepped into the hot shower, and it was as though she had all the time in the world to let the steaming water pour over her skin. She eventually twisted the shower knob, wrung out the dripping water from her blonde locks, and wrapped herself in a plush white towel. She crashed on her soft, white bed that was calling to her in her weariness.

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