Chapter 35 Matt
THREE MONTHS LATER
The folding chairs were easier to stack than I'd expected.
I'd set up twelve, figuring eight people was the usual turnout and it was better to have extras.
Tonight we'd had ten. Mrs. Rose and her daughter.
Tom Bradford whose wife had early-onset.
The Andersons, married fifty years, him taking care of her now.
A few others. Good people carrying heavy things.
The high school gym still smelled the same, floor polish and old sweat. Principal Hayes had offered the space when I'd asked. "Community room's booked solid, but you can use the gym Thursday nights. Just stack the chairs when you're done."
I stacked the chairs.
The meeting had gone well. Mrs. Rose cried talking about her husband forgetting their anniversary.
Tom shared that he'd found a day program that gave him three afternoons a week to himself.
We'd talked about guilt and exhaustion and the small victories that felt enormous.
Nobody offered solutions. We just listened.
That was enough.
Mom had been at Meadowbrook Memory Care for six weeks now. The decision had been brutal, but Dad couldn't do it anymore and neither could I. She was safe there. Had her own room with a window. Thought the nurses were her college roommates most days. Called me "young man" when I visited.
It was getting easier. Not easy, but easier.
I grabbed the last chair, added it to the stack.
'I'm retiring next fall. Election's in November.' He'd looked at me. 'You'd make a good sheriff. Should throw your hat in.'"
I'd nodded. Tried not to read too much into it.
"You'd have to stay," he'd said. "Job's not for someone passing through."
"I know."
"That something you'd want?"
I'd thought about it, about my detective work in the city, the career I'd left behind. That life felt like someone else's now.
"Maybe," I'd said. "Let me think about it."
He'd clapped my shoulder. "Take your time."
Sheriff of Millbrook. A year ago the idea would've felt like failure. Now it felt like… possibility. Maybe.
One step at a time.
I was folding up the card table when the gym door creaked open.
"Sorry! I'm sorry I'm late."
Lucy Carlson hurried in, still in her Millbrook Veterinary Care scrubs, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She stopped when she saw the empty chairs.
"Oh no. Did I miss the whole thing?"
"Ended about ten minutes ago."
"Shit." She dropped her bag by the door. "I got stuck at the clinic. Emergency spay ran long and then…" She waved her hand. "Excuses. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. There's always next week."
She looked around at the stacked chairs. "Can I at least help clean up? Make myself useful?"
"Sure. You can grab that side."
We collapsed the table together, carried it to the storage closet at the back of the gym. She was surprisingly strong for someone so small, didn't struggle with her end at all.
"How was the turnout?" she asked.
"Good. Ten people."
"That's great. When you started this I wasn't sure anyone would show."
"Honestly? Me neither."
We walked back across the gym, our footsteps echoing in the empty space.
"How's your grandmother doing?" I asked. Lucy had been coming since September, one of the first to show up after I'd posted flyers around town.
"About the same. Some days are better than others." She picked up a stray paper cup someone had left. "Mom's talking about moving her into a facility. Gran would hate it but…"
"It's hard."
"Yeah." She looked at me. "How's your mom?"
"Settled in. Still doesn't know who I am most days but she seems… content. That's something."
"It is."
We threw away the trash, turned off half the lights. The gym looked bigger in the semi-darkness.
"You're good at this, you know," Lucy said.
"At what? Stacking chairs?"
"Running the group. You don't try to fix everything. You just let people talk."
"Learned that the hard way."
She smiled. "Well. It works."
We headed for the door. I held it open for her, flipped off the last lights, locked up behind us.
Outside, the parking lot was empty except for my truck and her car. February had turned cold, our breath visible in the air.
"Thanks for helping," I said.
"Anytime." She pulled her keys from her bag, fumbled them, dropped them. "Shit."
We both bent down to grab them at the same time, nearly knocking heads. She laughed, and so did I. We straightened up and she had her keys and we were both just standing there smiling like idiots.
"Sorry," she said. "Long day. I'm a mess."
"You're fine."
"I'm definitely not fine. I'm exhausted and I smell like dog and I missed the meeting I was supposed to help with."
"You showed up anyway. That’s what matters."
She looked at me, something shifting in her expression. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
A pause. Her car beeped as she unlocked it.
"I'll see you next week?" she asked.
"I'll be here."
"Good." She opened her car door, paused. "Hey, Matt?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you're doing this. The support group. It’s important."
"Thanks."
She got in her car, started the engine, and waved through the windshield as she pulled away. I stood there in the parking lot for a minute, watching her taillights disappear. Then I got in my truck and sat there.
Ten people tonight. Ten people who didn't have to carry everything alone anymore. Including me.
Sheriff Davis wanted an answer in a few months. Stay or go. Millbrook or somewhere else. A year ago I wouldn't have hesitated. Would've left the first chance I got.
Now… I wasn't sure. The town felt different, and I felt different in it.
Mom was here, Dad was here. The support group was here.
And Lucy had just said she'd see me next week.
I started the engine. Drove home with the radio playing something I didn't recognize, cold air through the cracked window, February stars overhead.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn't thinking about the past.
I was thinking about next week.