Page 86 of Steadfast

“You okay?” Maeve asked, her brow furrowed as she set the travel mug in her hand. She noticed Oakleigh wince as her battered palms clasped around the mug. The events of the storm had certainly taken its toll, and she knew the young woman had been through a lot in the last few days. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for Oakleigh to gather her thoughts.

“I can’t drink any more plain coffee, Maeve.” Oakleigh shook her head, swiping under her runny nose.

“Just try it,” Maeve replied with an understanding tone.

Oakleigh took a tentative sip from the mug. She cast her eyes up to Maeve with a look of surprise. “How did you do this? I thought we were out of milk.”

“When you live way out in the boonies, sometimes you have to improvise.” Maeve shuffled her feet to reorient herself to the more challenging conversation ahead. “Now what’s wrong? Oakleigh, talk to me.” Oakleigh was rarely this difficult to read, and she began to feel legitimately concerned. “Is this about your mom?”

“It’s Paisley,” she murmured. “She wouldn’t even look at me.” Oakleigh dabbed the tears off her cheeks with her palm in fleeting attempts to preserve her makeup. “I begged her to sit and talk. I was even going to apologize, Maeve, and you know how impossible that is for me.”

Maeve swiped her hand over her mouth to force back the smile that tugged at her lips. She knew all too well how difficult it was for Oakleigh to admit she was wrong.

“I told her she should stay a few more days so we could work things out.” Her tears began to tumble down her cheeks again. “She said—” Oakleigh’s words were interrupted by a sniffle as she used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to sweep under her eyes, leaving dark mascara smudged on the fabric.

“What did she say, hun?” Maeve pushed, now realizing the situation was more dire than she assumed.

Oakleigh looked to the ceiling as she recalled Paisley’s exact words. “She said that I’dnever change.” She exchanged a look with Maeve that was full of remorse. “And you know, the worst part of all is that I know she’s right.”

It only took Maeve a moment to know what she needed to do next. “Get up, Oakleigh. We’ve got to go.”

Oakleigh obediently pushed herself off the floor. “Where are we going?”

“Theairport.”

Maeve set her foot down on the gas pedal, pushing the old blue truck faster than it had gone in a long time. The diesel engine roared down the highway, which was still littered with downed branches and fallen leaves. The silver lining was that the highway was empty of other cars as they made up for lost time. Even if the truck sounded rougher than ever, Maeve was thankful it was at least reliable.

“You think we’re going to make it?” Oakleigh asked, glancing nervously out her window as she grabbed the handle above her head for assurance.

“I’m praying we’ve got wind on our heels,” Maeve replied as she pulled off the highway to the little country airport. She skipped past the terminal and headed to where several private jets of varying sizes were parked behind a chain link fence.

When they arrived at the guard shack, she slammed on the brakes. The truck squealed to a stop just inches before the bumper tapped the fence. Maeve said a little prayer of gratitude that at least one thing worked well on the old beast. She cranked down the window and leaned out.

The seasoned airport guard, in his blue uniform and hat, stepped to the car window with the swagger of one who had wielded a minute amount of power for far too long.

“Well, well, Maeve Callaway,” he said. “Just what do you think you’re doing flyin’ in here like a bat out of hell?”

“Bill, I don’t have time for it today,” Maeve interjected. “I’m here to catch a flight.”

“Well you don’t say,” he responded, with artificial enthusiasm. “Good place to come for that, I suppose.”

She was grateful for her dark aviators, which hid her exasperated eye roll. Maeve was intentional to subdue the annoyance that was edging into her tone. “My sister just came through here in a black Escalade.”

“That loud, blonde spit of a woman?” His eyes went wide as he recalled. “She screeched at me when I asked her for identification. Can you believe that?”

“I actually can, yes,” Maeve answered honestly, a part of her wanting to unleash fury on him herself. “Have they left yet?”

“Nope, I don’t believe they have,” he drawled.

“Please, Bill, this is urgent.” Maeve was pleading now, nearly in disbelief that she was at the mercy of Bill,the airport security guard.

His lips pressed together like he was straightening his ill fitting dentures before giving Maeve a solitary nod. “I’ll allow it.” He tapped a button, and the gate sluggishly rolled open at a snail’s pace.

When there was enough room for the truck to squeeze through, Maeve took her opportunity. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor, leaving Bill behind in the dust. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she attempted to avoid taking pleasure at the sight of him waving his arms wildly for her to slow down.

“You see the plane?” she asked, scanning the tarmac.

“How could you miss it?” Oakleigh said, pointing ahead to the large, white private jet withDavenport Ministriespainteddown the side. The letters were in gaudy royal purple and outlined in gold.

---