Chapter 2
Islam the truck door and head towards the main house. Fuming with the audacity of that man. How dare he call me a city plant and assume I can’t handle being a ranch hand. The door to Dot’s mudroom creaks open the same way it has for years as I step inside out of the falling snow.
“Stupid pompous cowboy,” I mutter angrily, attempting to tug my gloves off my frozen hands, but they refuse to come off, only fueling the rage warming my chest. “You borrow that from your daddy?” I mock and continue fighting with my gloves as I step into the kitchen.
I know the only thing that will help right now, and when I see the empty plate sitting in the middle of Aunt Dot’s kitchen, I frown.
One glove comes loose, and I take the plate, setting it into the sink.
“Who eats all the cookies and leaves the empty plate on the counter? I bet it was that jerk, that ‘manners of a goat’ jerkface who is apparently living in the forties where women can’t do men's work.”
“Magnolia Mae, who are you cursing in my kitchen?” Dot’s voice calls from behind me. “What did Ford do now?”
“It wasn’t Ford, Aunt Dot,” I scowl, and turn to her. “It was that long-haired, blue-eyed redneck with the personality of a horse's backside.” She stares at me with a confused look before her golden eyes crinkle, and a laugh bubbles out of her.
“You mean Bode?” she asks, moving around the island, tugging my other glove off my hand. “What in the world could that sweet boy have done to get you this riled up?”
“Sweet boy?!” I balk, “That man is anything other than sweet. He’s…He’s a…”
The back door slams, and Ford saunters in with a scowl matching mine.
“He’s a pig-headed–”
“Use your curse words, Maggie,” Ford chides, planting himself on one of the stools and leans forward, watching me. I know he’s egging me on, and he knows that I don’t curse. Lord knows he’s dropped enough f-bombs for the both of us growing up.
“He’s a jerk,” I finally say, pinning back my shoulders. “I didn’t realize anyone was grumpier or ruder than you, Lawson.”
Dot and Ford share a look, and my brows furrow. “What?”
Ford shrugs. “Nothin’.”
I narrow my eyes at him, his ‘nothin’s’ are usually something. “You don’t think I can be a hand, do you?”
Ford’s eyes turn dark. “Mags, I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to! I can do this! I can be a hand and I can–”
Dot takes my hand in hers and squeezes it.
“We know you can, sweetheart.” Her voice barely balms the frustration sitting on my shoulders.
“The new nurse starts today, right?” She asks me, and normally I’d be grateful for the change in subject, but this one, not so much.
My eyes find hers, and her look softens more than before.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
The stool whines under Ford’s shifting weight. “That’s why you came up here instead of going home like I told you to?” he asks. “You gotta go home at some point, Maggie.”
“Ford,” Dot warns as she gives him a look and leads me to the stool next to him.
She’s the only woman besides Charlie who could get him to quiet down with a glare.
“Maggie,” she says to me, pushing my beanie back a touch off my forehead, making me feel like I’m four years old again.
“You can be a hand, ain’t nobody ever been able to stop you once you put your mind to something, but…
” she pauses, and I don’t miss the sadness that flickers in her eyes.
“Sometimes you forget to ask for help, and we’re here to help you. With work. With your mama.”
My eyes burn as I look away from her. So many words and emotions bundle in my throat like cotton as I shake my head. “I won’t burden either of you with asking for help, not with everything else going on with Charlie and the Ranch.”
I feel Ford bristle next to me at my mention of her. He still hasn’t explained anything that’s happened between them, and I get the feeling he won’t ever tell us. Dot leans against the counter, folding her arms across her chest.
“You and your mama aren’t a burden, Maggie. You’re family,” she says, nudging me with her foot, “If you need help with anything, all you gotta do is ask. She might be your mama, but she’s my sister.”
“Look, one of us can go with you if that’ll–”
I shake my head and suck in a hard breath.
“No, no, I need to do this.” I look between the two of them.
I hate being stuck between this place of not knowing whether this is good for my mama or a death sentence.
But I know she can’t do most things on her own anymore, and her memories are fading.
As much as I want to spend all my time with her, I can’t.
The house has to be paid for, the nurse, and the hospital bills.
All of it weighs me down, and I won’t do that to Dot or Ford.
Ford stands, planting a chaste kiss on the side of my beanied head. “Day or night,” he says, pulling back and tilting his head to catch my gaze. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Bright and early,” I reply softly. He studies me briefly before straightening and heading back out through the mudroom. Dot wanders to the other end of the kitchen and grabs my lone glove from the sink, bringing it back to me.
“You sure you don’t need me?” she asks.
I give her the best smile I can muster and shake my head, “I can handle it.” I know she doesn’t believe me, and truthfully, I don’t believe myself, but instead of arguing, she nods and hands me the glove. “Thanks, Aunt Dottie.”
“I’ll have coffee for you in the morning and breakfast, but get here early before those boys devour it all.”
I leave her in the kitchen as she busies herself preparing for the sunrise before today’s sun has even set.
The gravel beneath my feet crunches loudly as I make my way back to my truck.
My eye catches his silhouette in the barn door, his arms crossed over his chest, and his hat pushed low over his eyes.
If that dipstick of a cowboy thinks he’s going to scare me away with some choice words and annoying assumptions, he has another thing coming.
For a moment, I think about going over and asking him what his problem is, maybe even taking out my high-strung emotions on him, but he shifts on his feet and disappears into the barn.
“God help me,” I huff and pull the door open, climbing inside the cab.
The trip back into town feels too fast. The trees whip by the windows, and the snow starts to fall in thick flakes against my windshield as I pull down Main Street.
Everyone still feels at peace here, moving around about their days like nothing bad can touch them.
But the pit in my stomach proves otherwise.
Bad things happen to good people all the time.
My mind is fuzzy and focused on a hundred different problems that need solving, that I’m not prepared for the wave of sadness that washes over me as I pull up to the house.
When I was little, this house seemed like it was made of magic.
From the perfectly kept grass to the funny circle window in the attic, every day was a new adventure.
Mama took care of each pane of glass, swept every dust bunny, and fixed all the leaky pipes. If she wasn’t in the house, baking or dancing, she was in the back singing to her plants in the greenhouse. She was everything to everyone, all at once. And she did it without hesitation.
But now, the old white paint is starting to chip around the porch railings, and the front steps are starting to tilt to the left into the earth. The shingles were starting to sag off the peaked roof, and the bright rose bushes that lined the house looked long dead before the snow had fallen.
All the magic is seeping from it, and suddenly, I’m a lot more scared to be home than I was ten minutes ago.
There is a small knock on the window that causes me to jump in my seat.
A sweet-looking woman with strawberry blonde curls and big blue eyes stands just on the other side of the door with a tentative smile on her face.
I kill the engine and climb from the truck as she backs away, bundled down in her jacket. “You must be Magnolia Mae.” She holds out a tiny gloved hand to me. “I’m Joleen.”
“It’s just Maggie,” I say, shaking her hand with a shaky exhale as I force a polite smile to my face. “You’re here to help?”
“I am the new home nurse, yes.” She nods.
“Let’s get out of the cold,” I say, leading her up the stairs. I pop the lock on the front door and stomp off my boots on the old carpet in the hall. “Mrs. Redman?” I call out, and from the living room. “Mrs. Redman comes over and sits with her. We’ve been neighbors since I was little.”
Joleen nods as she shrugs out of her jacket.
“Lately, she’s been needing to help Mama more often, and it’s become too much of a burden for her.
She’s nearly seventy herself,” I explain, and Joleen smiles at me as I ramble.
“Knits faster than any woman I know, though,” I continue.
“Mama likes to knit in the morning with her while they watch Young and the Restless, but not before she has her cup of tea. And in the afternoons, right after lunch, she likes to sit in the greenhouse and sing to her plants,” I say, looking around, waiting for Mrs. Redman to collect her things as I fidget with the zipper on my coat.
“I’ll show you the bathroom later, but for now I can lay out all Mama’s medication and show you how to start the coffeepot, and there’s the faucet, it sticks a little if you don't jiggle it loose…”
Joleen puts her hand on my arm. “Maggie, it’s gonna be alright, I’m here to help now. All you need to focus on is being her daughter. Do you think you can do that?”
I look down at her hand and inhale slowly, trying to contain the sudden urge to cry.
“I think so,” I say in a real quiet voice. I didn’t even realize how overwhelmed I was until she pointed it out gently and helped me out of my jacket. She hangs it on the hook behind her and changes into a pair of clean house shoes.
“Now, let’s go say hi to your mama, so we can get Mrs. Redman home before it gets too icy outside, yeah?” Joleen stands and claps her hands together gently.
Mrs. Redman hobbles toward the archway from the large, well-lit living room. Her petite frame moves more slowly than it used to, but she’s just as sassy.
“She’s having an alright day,” she says in a tight tone.
“She didn’t want to go outside in the cold, and I don’t blame her one bit, but she threw a fit when I tried to get her to take her medications at lunch, so she’s running on fumes,” Mrs. Redman grumbles as I help her into her coat.
“You’re the nurse that’s stealing my job?
” She glares up at her through her thick lenses.
“I’m Joleen, and you’re welcome over here just the same as before, as long as you promise to knit me some mittens.
I hear you knit faster than anyone in town.
” Joleen guides her to the front door, and I take the brief distraction to slip into the living room to greet Mama before bombarding her with a new face.
In the last thirty years, nothing has changed about our living room, from the moment I could remember it, it has always been the same.
The old striped couch is positioned toward a small box TV that barely works on top of a rug that has seen better days.
Mama sits with her head resting on the back of her favorite chair.
An ugly thing that smells like patchouli and has been re-upholstered three times in my life.
It’s now a dark shade of purple with one of Mrs. Redman’s blankets hung over the back of it.
The stand and the floor around the TV are covered in photos of Mama and me, as well as a few of our old pets…a lot of our old pets. Mama has never said no to a stray animal following me in the house, only complaining about mopping up the muddy trails we left as we stomped through looking for food.
“Hey Mama.” I kneel in front of her, but her eyes stay focused on the front window, watching the snowflakes. “Mrs. Redman said you didn’t take your meds. Now what’s up with that? You know you gotta take them.” I pat her knee.
She wiggles her fingers at me without looking over, and I know she’s trying to brush off my worry.
I could fuss for days, but I hear Joleen’s soft steps behind me, knowing I shouldn’t.
“Mama, I want you to meet someone. She’s going to help us out around here, keep you company when I’m off at work. This is Joleen.”
“Well, hey there, Daphne,” she says as she settles on the couch next to the chair and leans over to pat Mama’s hand. “Maggie-Mae, you wouldn’t mind making us some tea, would you?”
Joleen smiles at me, and I understand what she’s trying to do, so I swallow my anxiety alongside all my tears and stand up from the floor.
I look back only once as I wander toward the kitchen, leaving them to get acquainted, just praying to whoever is listening that this will be good for both of us.