Chapter 37
Idon’t realize how long I’ve been staring at the pile of wood and paint buckets in the bed of my truck until a hand on my shoulder claps me out of my thoughts.
Dot came to Maggie’s this morning so they could handle the arrangements for Daphne’s funeral.
At first, I was nervous about leaving her, but Maggie kissed me goodbye, gave me the smile she’s been working so hard to get back, and told me she’d call if she needed me.
Crew leans over the edge of the bed and tilts one of the closed paint buckets back, raising a brow as he looks up at me. “She’s selling?”
“She doesn’t know,” I mumble and lift the tailgate up, latching it into place. “I’m following the list.”
“The list?” Crew asks.
“She sat down and made a list of everything that needs to be done, I think… as a way to help her organize the chaos in her head.” My voice trails off, but I can feel him watching me, reading me in the way he does the horses.
“And you’re handling the things she can’t.” He finishes my thought and eases the paint back down.
I shake my head and look down at the paint, as if it has all the answers. “It’s not that she can’t do them… I just…”
“You want to do them for her.” I look up and notice he’s staring off into the distance.
I turn my head to see what he’s looking at and see Logan unsaddling Copper on the opposite end of the barn.
My brows pinch together, and I realize that maybe…
Logan and Maggie aren’t so different. Logan’s weapon of choice is just a baseball bat, while Maggie chooses words and fists.
“How did you get past her anger?” I ask, looking back over at him, and Crew lets out a chuckle.
“We never got past it. She’s still angry, she just knows how to work through that anger now.
” Our eyes meet, and I know he can see the twenty questions still lingering behind mine.
“You can’t force her to crawl through the mud and get over her grief and anger.
Maggie is sunshine, but even the sun can’t prevent storm clouds. ”
“I have no idea what that means.” I huff. “And talk to me plainly, I hate it when you start using fancy metaphors.”
He chuckles again and shakes his head. “Her sunshine will come back, Bode. It may not be today or hell even a month from now, but it will come back.”
“I don’t know how to help her get it back,” I admit. “She smiles, but it doesn’t brighten the room like it used to, and as selfish as it feels, I miss it.”
“It’s okay to miss it, just don’t force her to be in that headspace again until she’s ready.”
“I don’t think fixing up the house is enough to help her,” I say, knowing what I want to do but not wanting to step over her boundaries.
“Spit it out,” Crew nudges me. “I can usually read you, Bode but whatever’s going through that head of yours is making it hard if you don’t use your words.”
“I want to fix up the greenhouse,” I blurt. “But she hasn’t been out there since she found her mom.”
“Is that what’s stopping you?” he asks, shifting in the dirt.
“Is it overstepping if I do it without her knowing?” I chew on my lip and glance up at him again. “I want to help her heal, Crew, and staring at that greenhouse through her kitchen window is just a horrible reminder of what happened.”
“You remember Logan’s trailer?” he asks and I nod.
There were only a few times I saw it, but I remember.
“And the bullet holes in the side of it?” Our eyes meet and I nod again, tighter this time, as I’m reminded of the rumors this town threw around about Shepard. “The greenhouse is her bullet holes.”
“I can’t build her a cabin to hide away in, Crew,” I groan.
“No,” he smirks, “but we can build her a greenhouse. Do something for her that she can't do for herself right now.”