“I hate her, Maeve.”
The harsh whisper escaped before she could draw it back. Clenching her eyes shut, all of the joy she had experienced that morning was replaced with harsh resentment.
“I know you’re going to tell me I shouldn’t, but I do.”
Feeling Crew’s hand on her knee and Maeve’s arm around her shoulders, she felt their tireless support as she attempted to choke back her overflowing emotions.
“We’re going to talk through this, hun,” Maeve whispered. “But right now, you’re going to have to make a choice.”
Oakleigh ran her fingers down the sides of her jaw, contemplating Maeve’s familiar words.
She exhaled.
Dallas was greeted by loud applause as he went onstage and pulled up the wooden stool that had been his long-time pulpit.
“It’s great to see a packed house today,” he began, “And Oakleigh mentioned that we’re streaming as well.”
While Dallas continued his warm introduction, Oakleigh stood to her feet. She quietly slipped past Crew, feeling him squeeze her hand in support. The eyes of the room were on her as she went up the aisle. Her insides churned, and her instinct for self-preservation resisted her every step.
Shuffling past those who had found places against the wall, she finally arrived where her mother was standing all alone.
“Hey, Mom,” Oakleigh said quickly. Harper had yet to lift her eyes, which were noticeably glazed over with a distant look.
Probably still hung over.
Oakleigh stifled the contempt she felt bubbling up.
“Mom?” Oakleigh repeated. “Hey.”
Daring to grab her wrist, she finally drew her mother’s attention. “You should come join us.”
Harper shook her head. “I don’t want to be recognized,” she whispered, her voice raspy and uncharacteristically thick with emotion.
Knowing Harper hated being outshined, even in a crisis, Oakleigh didn’t have the heart to tell her that the latest Davenport announcement wasn’t even trending that morning. It had been displaced entirely by Oakleigh’s popular livestream on the church steps.
Noting that her mother hadn’t yet recoiled from her grasp, Oakleigh took her by the hand. “Mom, you’re safe here,” she affirmed. “I promise.”
Harper hesitated, appearing to take in her words. Finally agreeing with a quiet nod, Oakleigh led her through the crowd and up the aisle to the front row. Shuffling into the pew, Harper took a seat beside Maeve. Oakleigh took her place next to Crew, who put his arm around her.
“Have I told you I’m proud of you?” he whispered.
Oakleigh gave him a sharp elbow that forced out an audibleooffrom the handsome cowboy.Catching Maeve’s stern eye, Oakleigh adjusted her posture and leaned into Crew’s muscular bicep. His closeness nearly replaced the roiling anxiety she felt being in forced proximity to her mother.
“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Dallas said, his smile pushing up his mustache as he wrapped up his introduction. “Let’s worship.”
With Dallas’ prompt, Sawyer limped up to his guitar, pulled the strap over his head, and leaned on a wooden stool beside Bethany. Not even his bruised black eye could hide the spark that had reignited between them over the last few days. He took the guitar pick from between his teeth and strummed across the strings. Even his most simple of actions were still accompanied by a noticeable wince.
Maeve crossed her arms, giving an exasperated sigh.
“Cannot tell that boy anything.”
“Why don’t you stand with me,” Sawyer said into the microphone. “Let’s worship the Lord together.”
The lights dimmed, prompting the congregation to their feet.
Everyone except Harper.
It was the first time in years that Oakleigh had been beside her mother in church. For once, there were no petty comments or mean-spirited jabs about her appearance. Oakleigh glanced down at the woman who was known for her formidable presence. She had effortlessly commanded a room from the height of her towering heels, captivated packed stadiums, brought her audience to tears with perfectly articulated prayers, and was attributed to encouraging countless in their walks with the Lord.