Page 94 of Steadfast

Maeve opened the shop and went about her usual routine, which she had followed for years since taking over for Ruth. She made the coffee and pushed a pan of cinnamon rolls into the hot oven. A few regular customers stopped in for breakfast, but overall, business was slow. The dwindling town population hadn’t grown much. There was some speculation that the little town of White Bridge might never recover from the economic downturn.

Toward closing time, June popped through the door wearing a bright yellow floral sundress. She leaned on the old, scuffed countertop and shared the latest town news. Maeve listened and chuckled with amusement as she steamed the milk for her vanilla latte.

June helped with stacking the chairs and mopping the floors. It was something Maeve had always done with Ruth, and since her passing, she appreciated June’s company. The sun had set over Main Street, and the dim street lamps flickered on, illuminating the uneven sidewalks through the sleepy town. It was supper time, and the shop owners had already closed up and left for home.

Maeve sloshed the mop into the bucket.

“Sure feels quiet tonight,” she mused.

“It does,” June agreed. “I better head on home and get dinner in the oven.”

The sound of squealing tires interrupted the simplicity of their small talk.

“Well, what in the world?” June’s eyes grew wide as she went to the window. A Callaway truck slammed on its brakes and skidded to a stop. Sawyer left the engine running while he jumped out of the driver’s seat. He rushed to the door and flung it open with a violent jingle.

“Mom, we gotta go,” Sawyer exclaimed, the words firing quickly off his lips. “Come on.”

Maeve froze as the mop in her hands pooled water on the linoleum floor. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she shook away her daze.

“There’s been some sort of accident,” Sawyer said, attempting to prompt her along. There was a quiver in his voice that betrayed his usual confidence. “Come on, Mom, we have to go.”

Her mind flipped through the possibilities, and her mouth went dry as she turned her attention to June.

“June, can you—”

“Yes, hun, I’ll lock up. Now you better head out,” June said, her brow wrinkled with worry. Maeve dug through her pockets for the keys and quickly placed them in June’s hands with a loud clink.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Maeve said calmly, attempting to reassure herself most of all. “You know how these things go around the ranch.” She pulled off her apron and hung it on the hook. Giving Sawyer a nod, she followed him out the door to the truck.

They sped down the highway, passing cars as they went. “Sawyer, slow down,” she insisted, but for once, he didn’t listen. When they passed the turnoff to the ranch, she tilted her head to the side, giving Sawyer a look that begged for answers. “Where are we headed?”

“Hospital,” Sawyer mumbled.

“Was it an accident in the practice arena?” Maeve folded her arms as she watched the trees rush by her window. “You know, I keep telling your dad it was a bad idea.”

“It wasn’t the practice arena,” Sawyer replied. “It was some sort of car wreck.” He pointed as the headlights flitted over the scene of the crash involving what appeared to be a crumpled red car and a smashed silver pickup truck.

Maeve felt her stomach turn sour. She gulped, attempting to settle her nerves, praying she wouldn’t throw up.

Sawyer yanked the collar of her shirt, forcing her to turn away.

“Don’t look, Mom,” he pleaded. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

It was too late. She had taken in the sight of every bit of twisted metal, broken glass, and what she was praying wasn’t blood. She pressed her hand against the window as they passed Abel’s blue truck. It was pulled off the side of the road afew paces ahead and was seemingly unscathed. Seeing it there bolstered her confidence that everything was going to be okay.

Maeve gave Sawyer’s shoulder a squeeze. “You know your dad. He just stopped to help.”

She couldn’t help but notice him swiping under his runny nose with the back of his wrist. Her boy had grown into a strong and capable man over the last few years, regardless of her protests on the matter. As emotion washed over his face, all she could see was that little boy fighting back tears after skinning his knee.

“Sawyer, he’s fine. I’m sure he just rode to the hospital with the ambulance,” she chimed, the words spilling out one after another. “You know your dad. He can’t help himself. If there’s a need, he’s going to be there.”

The rest of the car ride was silent, marked with the occasional sniffle from Sawyer, which he tried to stifle.

When they arrived at the hospital, Sawyer swung the truck into a parking spot.

Maeve grabbed his hand. She couldn’t tell if it was her hands shaking or his, but she steadied herself for his sake.

“Sawyer, it’s going to be fine, son.” She repeated before she stepped out. She slammed the door behind her, and they walked together across the long parking lot towards the hospital’s front entrance. Her anxious thoughts wanted to quicken her pace, but she did everything she could to keep her cool.

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