Chapter 34
The world is spinning like I’m on an amusement park ride, and every time I open one of my eyes, the light burns through the sheer curtains above my head.
I feel around, for what I don’t know, but I find a glass of water with my fingertips, and I lift my head just enough to see that there’s a pair of ibuprofen on the table with it.
It takes another couple of minutes before I realize that I’m not at home. It’s mostly the feel of the sheets that cover me and the smell of bacon drifting up through the house that clues me in. “How did I get to the ranch?”
Sitting up as slowly as I can, I look around to find my coat thrown over the chair, and I’m still in my work clothes from yesterday.
I close my eyes in a feeble attempt to quell the thrumming headache that roars between my eyes and down my spine.
I ran my fingers through the bedhead knots and slip to the floor, letting my nose lead me toward the salty solution to my hangover.
Every step I take echoes up through my head, and I have to stop more than once to collect myself so I don’t puke on Dot’s floor before I even make it to the kitchen.
“Well, good morning, my whiskey-soaked troublemaker,” Dot hums, her smile knowing and her eyes bright in the morning light of the kitchen.
She hands me a mug of coffee, and my eyes widen as I reach out for it and see the state of my hand.
It’s bruised, swollen and the skin in a few places is dried with blood.
Between waking up on the ranch and how loud my head is pounding, I didn’t even notice the dull throb coming from my hand.
Dot looks down at it, and I expect to see disappointment on her face, but she seems…
impressed? She sets the mug on the counter instead and grabs a towel, some ice, and a clean rag.
I sit down on the stool and let her clean it up, watching in silence, trying to figure out what the heck went on yesterday and led me to this.
I hold the ice there as she makes me a plate of bacon and toast.
“Thank you,” I say finally, and she nods. “Um,” I stop and wait for her to sit down with a plate of her own. “Do you know how I ended up here? I remember leaving the ranch, I remember walking into town, but…”
“Bode brought you home this morning,” she says, and my nervous system lights up like the Fourth of July.
“Bode?” I ask.
“He was up early, they have some work to do today.” She takes a sip of her coffee, and I look at the clock on the stove.
It’s nearly eleven a.m. I haven’t slept past seven a.m. for months, possibly even years.
“Cameron Cassidy called him yesterday, sayin’ you were causing trouble down at the Backbone,” she explains.
“The Sheriff?” I nearly choke on my toast.
“You’ll have to fill in the gaps from Bode.” Dot stares at me, there’s the disappointment. “Are you doing alright?” She asks next, free of judgment.
I wish I could say I am. But the truth is that I’m falling apart worse than I was when Mama was still breathing. My heart squeezes tightly in my chest, and I set the toast down. “Sad,” I tell her. “I’m sad. And I miss Mama.”
“Me too,” she presses a hand to my cheek. “But you aren’t alone, Maggie-Mae.”
Doesn’t feel that way.
“I spoke with the lawyer this morning,” she says next, and I stare at her. That’s not your job is on the tip of my tongue. “Told them to stop calling until you’re ready to talk to them.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” my voice wavers.
“No, I didn’t,” Dot says gently, “but you’re my girl, and the grief is overwhelming you, and if the smallest thing an old lady can do for her niece is yell at some lawyers…”
“You yelled?” My laughter is laced with a few tears.
“Scolded, I scolded.” Dot smiles. “This isn’t just yours to carry, darlin’. She was my sister, let me help. Let us help.” She pokes.
She’s talking about Bode.
“He brought me home?” I ask again, and she nods.
“He probably kept you from a night in jail too,” she teases, and I groan, dropping my gaze to the counter.
“Yeah, well Bode thinks he knows what’s best all the time, so that doesn’t surprise me.” I groan.
“He also knows how it feels to lose a parent,” she reminds me. “Bode can be hot and cold, and most of his responsibilities in life have been forced upon him, but he got out of bed to go to you, and I think that garners him a few brownie points.”
“Yeah, I suppose it does.” I press my lips together in a thin line.
Dot watches me for a moment, almost hesitating over what to say next, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m about to get scolded for my behavior or because she’s worried that what she’s about to say is going to earn me another night at the Backbone.
“No one is telling you not to be angry, Maggie-Mae. Or sad, or whatever you’re struggling with in that mind of yours.
” She pauses, leaning over the edge of the counter.
“And I know, right now you may not believe me, but you are not alone.” Dot’s voice rasps as the words fall from her mouth with more barely contained emotion than mine, and rests her hands over mine.
I try to keep the tears from biting at the corners of my eyes, to ignore the stinging and the way my throat tightens up so much that I want to throw up, but it’s no use.
Dot sees through everyone of her children.
Blood or not, she knows how each one of us operates, and despite being gone for school and growing up, she knows me.
She knows this person, this shell of who I’ve turned into these last few days, isn’t me.
What’s worse… she figured it out before I did.
“I don’t know how to be in that house without seeing her,” I admit, my words soft and broken as I swallow back a threatening sob. “She’s everywhere.”
“But so are you, Maggie,” she whispers, moving around the edge of the counter and wrapping me in her arms. “Those walls were only a home because you were there, because you and your Mama survived this world and everything it threw at you in that house. Don’t let it turn into a prison.”
Her words finally break through the dam I forced up, and it doesn’t take long before I feel my own tears soaking into her shirt.
Everything hits me all at once, like a tidal wave of grief and anxiety filled with the realization that she’s truly gone.
Mama’s really gone, and she’s never going to see me grow old, or have babies, or get married…
all of the big life events that a mother should be there for, she’ll miss.
My stomach twists with nausea, and the sobs wrack through me. Dot only holds me tighter, her hand brushes over my unruly hair, soothing me through this moment of pain I hadn’t allowed myself to feel.
I don’t know how long she holds me for, but when I can finally breathe normally again, she pulls back. Her thumbs brush away the tears lingering on my cheeks, and she smiles sadly. “You need to go home, Magnolia.”
I know she’s right. I know I have to face this and be stronger than my mother’s ghost. So, I nod and sniffle away the last of my tears. She steps back and pushes the plate of breakfast she made towards me.
“Eat, settle your stomach, and if you want me to come with you, I will.” Her head tilts as she brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. I can’t help but lean into her touch, but shake my head.
“It’s okay,” I whisper and pick up a piece of bacon.
She nods and leaves me to eat in silence, quietly cleaning up before disappearing into the living room.
By the time I finish eating, I’ve worked up enough courage to finally go home.
I head back upstairs, slip on my shoes and jacket, and find my truck keys on the dresser.
I had almost forgotten that I left them on the hood of my car, and the realization that Bode must have snagged them for me clenches my jaw.
Dot was right, he definitely deserves a few brownie points, but I don’t know if I can face him today.
The ranch is quiet, and the sun has started to melt away the lingering slush and snow from the last few weeks.
I make it halfway down the drive towards my truck before I see him, moving bales of hay from his truck bed to the barn door.
It’s warm enough out that he’s only wearing a dark blue long-sleeve Henley, and his hat is pushed crooked on his head.
It takes him a moment to notice me, and part of me hopes that I can make it to my truck before he does, but as I reach for the door, our eyes meet. My hand pauses on tugging the door open, and I start to move around the hood as he tugs off his gloves and wipes his brow.
“Thank you,” I rasp, looking back up at the house for a moment before looking back at him, “for last night.”
He nods, a tiny chuckle leaving his lips. “Up until last night, I didn’t think you’d survive jail, but the look on the Sheriff’s face proved me wrong.”
“I embarrassed myself, didn't I?” I ask him.
“You definitely have your photo up on the wall at the Backbone, that’s for sure.” He looks up at me, and I can see all the things he wants to say stirring around in his eyes.
“Hopefully, they got my good side,” I huff. This is more than I’ve spoken to him in days. I feel bad, but the grief is consuming and I don’t know how to forgive myself long enough to reach out to him. I don’t want it to consume him along with me.
“How’s your hand?” he asks, looking at it hanging at my side.
“Sore,” I admit. “Guess that’s what I get for punching drunk old men.”
“And sheriffs," Bode adds, and the shock on my face causes him to smile widely.
“I punched Cam?” I swallow tightly. Maybe I should be in jail.
“You punched Cam,” Bode confirms. “Good news is, Crew thinks it’s hilarious, and if he has it his way, no one will ever forget about it.”
I cover my face with my hands, the key ring looped around my finger jangles loudly and covers the shameful groan that leaves my lips. “I should go…” I say when I finally collect myself.
“Where?” Bode asks, stepping forward. His hand squeezes around the gloves he’s holding, and his brows furrow tightly.
“Home,” I tell him, and he lets out a small whistle of air.
“Okay.” He shoves the gloves in his pockets, stepping forward and slipping the keys off my finger without another word.
Bode moves around me and pops the door open to the passenger side.
I open my mouth to argue, but he just waits, lets me have the fight internally, and helps me inside when I silently admit defeat.