Page 93 of Steadfast

She laid her head on Abel’s chest and gave him a gentle squeeze. He inhaled deeply, stirring from his rest, and put his arm around her, pulling her close. Maeve felt peaceful and happy as she ran her fingers along his smooth, muscular frame. His brown beard felt bristly, with a few white hairs now scattered throughout. A couple decades of marriage looked good on him.

“Do we have to get up?” Maeve mumbled. She felt her eyes begin to close while she listened to the rhythmic sound of Abel’s heartbeat.

“Afraid so,” Abel replied, affectionately kissing the top of her head as he combed through her tousled hair. “Lots to do today.”

Abel slipped from her arms as he set his feet on the ground.

“Can’t it wait?” She held firmly to his arm in a lighthearted attempt to pull him back into the soft bed and her embrace.

“Don’t tempt me,” he smiled, leaning down. He pushed a wild strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His compliment caused a smirk to tug at the corner of her lips. She clasped his hand and playfully twisted his wedding ring around his finger. “More grays every day,” she replied. “Before you know it, you’ll be waking up next to an old lady.”

He slipped into his jeans and pulled on a plaid button-up flannel shirt that made his green eyes seem even brighter. He leaned on the doorframe and paused as though he were taking in every detail. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Maeve rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile as she felt herself melt into a puddle.

“Why don’t you stay in bed this morning? I’ll take care of the morning chores,” he offered.

She yawned and stretched. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Abel smiled with that amazing grin that accentuated his dimples. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” She gladly tucked back into her soft bed. It didn’t take but a moment for her eyes to close once again.

Eventually, restlessness overtook her. Her body had grown accustomed to the early schedule that accompanied ranch life, and it was time to get up.

When she made it downstairs, she was greeted by the quiet of an empty house. The fireplace was glowing red with smoldering embers, and the smell of rich coffee awakened her senses. Abel had been so busy in recent years that she had taken on the task of making the morning brew for the household.

That day, however, the coffee was already waiting for her on the stove. There was a little blue sticky note by the percolator that read—

I know it’s not as good as yours.

I love you.

– Abel

She poured the strong coffee into her favorite mug, noticing it was dark black. He always made it a lot stronger than she did. Taking her first sip, she let the feeling of comfort wash over her. She smiled as she planned to tease him later.

Was that supposed to be coffee or mud?

They both knew that after decades of being trained in the art of coffee making by Ruth Callaway, the hard truth to swallow was that Abel made a better cup.

When the clock chimed, it was time to head out and open the coffee shop for the day. After grabbing her hat and aviator sunglasses off the rack, Maeve stepped out the front door and into the bright sunlight.

She went across the dusty driveway to the brand new white truck that readCallaway Ranchin crisp lettering across the door. After several long discussions about how theybothneeded reliable vehicles, Abel had won. No amount of arguing could convince him to buy anything new for himself.

Maeve could only shake her head as she recalled his wide grin after he had obviously gotten his way.

“And why do I need a new truck?” Abel had exclaimed while giving the side of the old blue Dodge a hard pat, causing it to reverberate with a hollow clang. “This old girl runs just fine.”

“Whatever you say, hun,” she had answered, giving the slightest eye roll at his unwavering pride over the junky old truck. “Just don’t make me drive it.”

Abel responded as he always did. He swooped her into a hug and reassured her that they had worked hard and God had blessed them. It was time to enjoy some of it.

She knew he was right.

That morning, when Maeve sank into the plush, soft, leather seats of her brand new truck, she had to admit that she was happy he had won. Pressing the ignition, the enginepurred to life. She hardly felt any rocks or potholes as she drove along the dirt road leading to the highway. Compared to being rattled around in the old Dodge, her new truck was a true luxury.

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