20. Chapter 20 Eli
The drive to the Cedar Hollow Motel is quieter than I expected.
Sophie sits in the backseat with Gerald tucked beneath one arm, watching the fields slip past her window. Every now and then she asks Stacey a question, but they're the kind of questions eight-year-olds ask when they're trying to get to know someone instead of remembering them.
"Do you still like thunderstorms?"
"What's your favorite pizza?"
"Did you always have curly hair?"
Each answer seems to lead to another question, and I can't decide whether that's encouraging or heartbreaking.
Maybe both.
The motel comes into view a few minutes later. It's one of those old roadside places that has been standing longer than anyone can remember. The brick is faded, the flower beds could use attention, and the blinking vacancy sign has probably needed replacing for a decade.
Stacey reaches for the door handle but hesitates.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
I nod.
"You didn't have to let me see her."
"I wasn't sure what the right answer was."
"I know."
She looks down at her hands before turning toward the back seat.
"Sophie?"
Sophie leans forward between the seats.
"Yes?"
Stacey smiles, though her eyes are still damp.
"I have to go back to Oklahoma City this afternoon."
"I know."
"I have to work tomorrow."
Sophie nods again.
"My teacher says grown-ups have jobs."
A laugh escapes all three of us.
"I suppose she's right."
Stacey reaches into her purse and pulls out a small card.
"I wrote my phone number on here."
She looks at me first.
"Only if you're comfortable with it."
I study the card for a moment before taking it.
"I think phone calls are a good place to start."
Relief washes across her face.
"Thank you."
She looks back at Sophie.
"I'd really like to call you next week."
Sophie's fingers tighten around Gerald.
"Okay."
"I won't be upset if you don't want to talk."
"I think I do."
The words are quiet, but they're enough to bring fresh tears to Stacey's eyes.
She quickly wipes them away and opens the door.
"I'd better go before I embarrass myself."
She steps onto the sidewalk, then bends slightly to look through Sophie's window one last time.
"I'm really glad I got to see you."
Sophie gives a small wave.
"I'm glad too."
Stacey closes the door gently and starts toward her room.
She doesn't look back.
Somehow, that makes leaving easier.
I wait until she's safely inside before pulling away from the motel.
For several blocks, neither Sophie nor I says a word.
Finally, she speaks.
"Do you think she'll really call?"
"I think she will."
"Do you?"
"I do."
She leans her head against the window again.
"I hope she remembers my birthday this year."
The words hit me harder than I expect.
"I hope she does too, Soph."
A few more miles pass in comfortable silence.
Sophie is the first to break it again.
"I think Mommy was scared."
I glance at her in the rearview mirror.
"What makes you say that?"
"She kept squeezing her purse."
I smile to myself.
"I noticed that too."
"I wasn't scared."
"No?"
She shakes her head.
"I had you."
The simple certainty in her voice settles something inside me. Whatever happens next, Sophie knows she isn't facing it alone.
By the time I pull into my driveway, I should feel relieved.
The weekend is over.
Stacey came.
Stacey left.
She didn't make impossible demands.
She didn't ask for another chance.
She simply asked for the opportunity to become part of Sophie's life again.
That should feel like the end of the hardest conversation I'll have this week.
Instead, another conversation keeps replaying in my mind.
The library.
Sunday morning.
Maggie.
She smiled. She listened. She said all the right things.
But something had changed.
For the first time since we'd met, she hadn't reached for my hand.
She hadn't teased me.
She hadn't looked at me the way she had beneath the oak tree only a day earlier.
She'd been kind.
Warm, even.
Yet somehow she felt farther away than she had the first day we shared a suite at the Prairie Rose.
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter.
Fire scenes make sense.
Broken houses make sense.
Even broken hearts eventually make sense.
But Maggie...
For the first time since she'd walked into my life carrying two suitcases and a smile that refused to surrender, I had absolutely no idea what was wrong.
And for a man who had built his life around solving problems...
That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
The afternoon slips quietly into its familiar rhythm once we're home.
Sophie carries Gerald upstairs to "tell him about the weekend," which apparently requires considerable privacy. I use the time to unpack the cooler from the festival and rinse a few dishes that somehow found their way into the back of my truck.
Normal chores.
Normal sounds.
Exactly what I'd hoped for after an emotional weekend.
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps on the stairs. Sophie appears in the doorway wearing fresh shorts and one of her favorite T-shirts with tiny books printed across the front. She climbs onto her usual stool at the counter and watches while I slice apples for an afternoon snack.
Neither of us speaks for a minute.
She's thinking.
I've learned not to interrupt when Sophie is thinking.
Finally, she breaks the silence.
"Do you think we’ll see Mom again?"
"I do. I think she wants to spend time with you."
She accepts that answer with surprising ease and reaches for an apple slice.
For a few moments, I think that's the end of the conversation.
Then she asks another question.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Is Maggie mad at me?"
The question catches me so completely off guard that I almost answer too quickly.
"What?"
She shrugs, but she won't look at me.
"I just wondered."
"No, sweetheart."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
She traces little circles on the countertop with one fingertip.
"Then why didn't she hug me?"
For a moment, I honestly don't understand.
"What do you mean?"
"Yesterday."
She looks up at me.
"I had to ask."
The words land with surprising force.
I picture the library.
Maggie standing behind the circulation desk.
Sophie running back with her library book. I hadn't been there. I'd already left.
"What happened?"
Sophie shrugs again.
"I thought maybe she forgot."
She smiles a little.
"She remembered after I asked."
The smile disappears almost as quickly as it came.
"But she never forgets."
I lean against the counter, trying to make sense of something that suddenly feels much bigger than a missed hug.
"No," I say quietly.
"She doesn't."
Sophie twists the stem off an apple slice.
"Did I do something?"
My heart sinks.
"No."
She waits.
"Then why is she different?"
I don't have an answer.
Because I'd noticed it too.
Not just with Sophie.
With me.
Yesterday afternoon, she'd slipped her hand into mine without a second thought.
This morning, she'd folded both hands in her lap.
Yesterday, we'd kissed beneath the oak tree.
This morning, she'd smiled at me like I was an old friend.
As though she were quietly putting a little more space between us with every passing minute.
I pull out the stool beside Sophie and sit down.
"Can I tell you something?"
She nods.
"I don't think you're imagining things."
Her eyes widen.
"You don't?"
"No."
I choose my next words carefully.
"I think Maggie has a lot on her mind."
"Because of Mom?"
"I imagine that's part of it."
She is quiet for so long that I think the conversation is over.
Then she reaches across the counter and slips her hand into mine.
It is such a simple gesture.
Small fingers wrapping around mine as though there has never been a question that I would hold on.
"I hope she knows I still love her."
The words are barely above a whisper.
I close my hand around hers.
"I think she knows that better than anything."
Sophie nods, but I can tell she isn't completely convinced.
And as I sit there holding my daughter's hand, an uncomfortable realization settles over me.
Whatever had changed between Maggie and me...
It wasn't staying between Maggie and me.
Sophie could feel it too.
And if I didn't figure out why, the little girl we'd both been trying so hard to protect might end up carrying the heaviest part of it.
By early evening, Sophie is curled up on the couch with a library book balanced on her knees and Gerald tucked beneath one arm.
Every few minutes she turns a page.
Every few minutes I realize I haven't absorbed a single word of the fire department report sitting in front of me.
Finally, I close the folder.
"Soph?"
She looks up.
"I'm going to run over to the Prairie Rose for a few minutes."
"Okay."
"Dottie June said she'd stop by after church to check on you."
Sophie grins.
"She's bringing cookies."
"I suspect she is."
"I'll save you one."
"I appreciate that."
She smiles and returns to her book.
Ten minutes later I pull into the Prairie Rose parking lot.
The porch lights have just come on, casting a warm glow across the white rocking chairs lining the front porch.
The inn looks exactly the way it did the first night Sophie and I arrived carrying two suitcases and wondering how long we'd be staying.
Funny how quickly a place can begin to feel familiar.
The front desk is empty. I hear soft music drifting from somewhere in the back of the house.
"Wren?"
"In the back.”
I find her standing beside a folding table stacked with fresh towels. She looks up as I step into the doorway and immediately smiles.
"I wondered how long it would take."
I lean against the doorframe.
"That obvious?"
"You've been carrying the same expression since yesterday afternoon."
She folds another towel.
"I figured you'd eventually come looking for someone to untangle it."
I let out a quiet laugh.
"I was hoping you might."
She motions toward the chair in the corner.
"Sit."
I do.
For a minute, the only sound is the rhythmic folding of towels.
Finally she looks over.
"So."
"So."
"What's on your mind?"
I rub a hand across the back of my neck.
"I think I did something."
She raises one eyebrow.
"That's a fairly broad category."
"Maggie's different."
She doesn't answer.
"Yesterday..." I search for the words. "Yesterday we were..."
"Happy?"
I nod.