Page 80 of Steadfast

Oakleigh had made herself scarce that Sunday morning, just as Maeve had instructed her. When her nagging headache for coffee had become too strong to ignore, she crept down the creaky wooden staircase. She hesitated, catching the tail end of Maeve’s story. Despite all of their early morning coffee talks, it was something that Maeve had never shared.

She studied her mother there on the sofa. Her arms were folded tightly to her chest as she stared off into the flickering fireplace. She was reticent for once, with no harsh criticisms to fling. Oakleigh hoped she was feeling at least some regret after the callous words she so carelessly fired at Maeve the night before. Although if Harper harbored anything other than self-righteous indignation, she hid it well behind the skillful handiwork of her cosmetic surgeon.

A weighty blanket of silence fell over the room as Maeve’s words evaporated into her heavy emotion.

Harper cleared her throat theatrically. “Well, Maeve, I think we can both agree that I had nothing to do with thateither.” She rose to her feet and ran her hands over her clothes, smoothing the wrinkles in her delicate designer top.

Oakleigh hoisted herself off the step, drawing attention to her presence. She avoided her mother’s watchful gaze as she whisked past them into the kitchen.

Frustrated tears pricked her eyes as she reached for a mug. Banging it on the counter, she tipped the percolator and poured her coffee. She yanked the refrigerator door open and grabbed the cream.

The container felt light.

When she turned it upside down, every last bit of the milk dripped out. It was times like those that she wished she could stand the harsh bitterness of black coffee.

“Our mugs have taken a beating today,” Maeve observed with a forced, lighthearted tone. She lifted the lid on the kitchen trash and tossed her cracked cup. “Pity, this was my favorite.”

Oakleigh swiveled in disbelief, “How can you joke at a time like this?” She flung her arm wide. “And why did you tell her all that? You know she’s just going to use it against you.”

Maeve raised an eyebrow at Oakleigh’s dramatic reaction. “Because I felt like she needed to hear it.”

The calm authority in Maeve’s tone was one that Oakleigh had certainly heard before, and she knew better than to challenge. She couldn’t help but wonder if Maeve’s disappointment and frustration she had expressed the night before had driven a wedge in their relationship. She didn’t knowwhat to say to make things right. There was no justification for her lack of leadership when Maeve had relied on her the most.

Oakleigh took another sip of her coffee. It was utterly unpalatable without an adequate amount of cream.

Maeve leaned against the counter, looking on in amusement as Oakleigh’s face scrunched in disgust. “Not to your liking, huh?”

“I don’t get how you drink it like this. I really don’t,” Oakleigh exclaimed.

“Apparently, it’s how your mom drinks it too,” Maeve replied.

“It’s bitter,” Oakleigh fired back coldly, “just like her.”

Maeve smirked, “—And what does that say about me?”

“You’re different,” Oakleigh backpedaled. “You’re—well, you’re just Maeve.”

It was quiet between them, yet Oakleigh predicted it wouldn’t be for very long. She knew that Maeve wouldn’t let the issue just drop, even though she still held onto a shred of hope.

“Why don’t you bring Mia some coffee?” Maeve suggested. “I think we have a little oat milk left?”

It wasn’t what Oakleigh had expected at all, and if she had known there was oat milk in the fridge, she would have used it for herself.

She nodded and pulled down a mug from the cabinet. Filling it with steaming hot coffee, she added the last splash of oat milk, which turned the coffee a dark shade of amber brown.

Oakleigh looked into Mia’s mug with a touch of envy. She went to the stairs, balancing the mug precariously so as not to spill a drop.

Why does it even matter now? The floors are ruined.

She rapped on Mia’s door with her knuckles and waited. Eventually, she heard Mia’s groggy voice invite her in. She was in bed with her ankle propped on a pillow. Somehow, she still looked fresh and ready for the day despite her injury.

Oakleigh shook her head in astonishment as she hand delivered Mia’s coffee to her welcoming hands.

“Oaks,” Mia smiled, “you’re a lifesaver.” She took her first drink, closing her eyes as she savored the long sip.

Oakleigh went to the window and gazed out over the corrals. They had a lot to talk about. She suddenly wondered if delivering coffee had been Maeve’s way of getting them together in the same room.

“Have you seen this yet?” Mia asked, tilting her screen.

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