Page 20 of The Art Of Starting Over

The next afternoon, Devy rushed down the stairs to answer the landline her father still insisted on using. His reasoning was valid. He was the town sheriff, and because everyone already had his home number, he didn’t need to make everyone memorize his cell phone. Crow had one of those as well, but he hardly used it.

“Hello?” she answered, out of breath. Next time, she’d let the answering machine pick up. She didn’t need to exert herself when the call wouldn’t be for her.

“Hey, it’s Colt.”

“Hi. What are you doing? Where are you?” She still hadn’t seen her brother and didn’t have any desire to go into the Lazy Lamb to see him. Mostly because she was embarrassed and afraid people would know why she was back in town. She supposed they’d already figured it out, since her daughter was enrolled in school and her husband was nowhere to be found.

“Yeah, sorry. I keep meaning to come in, but by the time I get home, everyone’s asleep, and then I leave first thing.”

Devorah hadn’t been asleep. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the night before her life turned upside down.

“Anyway,” Colt continued. “What are you doing? Do you want to meet up for dinner?”

Devy turned and looked around the kitchen, which had things for her to make, but she was so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn’t gotten around to it.

“Where?”

“Down here at the Lazy Lamb.”

“Maren—”

“Can come too. It’s a pub, not a bar. She’s allowed.”

Being out in public wasn’t ideal. She hadn’t showered, which meant she hadn’t done her hair. Devy had already run into Hayden yesterday and didn’t really want to see anyone else.

“I don’t know, Colt. I—”

“It’s dead down here, Dev. And I really want to see my niece.”

She thought for a moment and then finally nodded. “I need to shower.”

“Okay, take your time. Do you remember where it’s at?”

“Yes.” It was hard to forget when the town was so small. Oyster Bay was one of those places where, if you got lost, which was near impossible, you followed the snow evacuation route to the water. Then you’d find your way again.

Devorah hung up, went back upstairs, and found Maren in her room, reading a book.

“Hey,” Dev said as she leaned against the doorjamb. “Uncle Colt would like us to come down to his pub for dinner.”

“Okay,” Maren said as she closed her book. “Are you ...” She stopped talking and sighed.

“Am I going to get dressed?”

Maren nodded, and her lower lip quivered. Devorah went into the room and sat next to her daughter. “I know I’m a broken mess.”

“It’s okay, Mom.”

Devy gave her a weak smile. “It’s not. I want to feel better. I’m trying.”

“I’ll help.”

She kissed her daughter on her forehead. “You help by being here with me. I’m going to shower, and then we’ll go.”

“Okay.”

In the shared bathroom, Devy started the water. She held her hand under the stream until it turned warm, undressed, and then stepped in. The last shower she’d taken, she’d stood in there and cried, the rushing water easily drowning out her sobs. She wasn’t lying when she’d told Maren she was broken. Everything hurt, and her heart no longer beat the way she remembered it. Now, it felt dull and lifeless. Foreign. It didn’t belong in her anymore.

Maren’s shampoo sat on the windowsill. Devy poured some into her hand and inhaled the coconut-and-vanilla scent. Tears of joy came instantly. She would be nothing without Maren, and it wasn’t fair to her nine-year-old to have to support her.

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