10. Shiver

Chapter 10

Shiver

O akleigh bundled up tightly in her thick jacket, pulling her arm around her middle to conserve her heat. The cold chill nipped at her cheeks as she led her speckled gray horse into the warmth of the barn. Maeve had persistently reminded them that winter was on the way and might even hit early.

As usual, she was right.

It wasn’t Oakleigh’s first harsh Montana winter, but she wasn’t sure she would ever become accustomed to the extreme weather.

Once her horse was cozy in its stable, she filled the trough with a large scoop of pellets. The mare gave a gentle wicker as Oakleigh offered her a sweet treat from her palm. She hung her leather saddle bag securely on the wall and pulled her travel mug from the side pocket. The satchel was hand-sewn with a convenient pocket built in just for travel mugs. The smooth leather bag had been a birthday gift from Maeve. The simple gesture meant so much more than the extravagant gifts her parents used to buy, like her flashy Mercedes G-Wagon that she received on her twenty-second birthday.

What a difference two years had made.

Holding the warm steel travel mug between her hands, she thawed her frozen fingers after the long ride around the property. She thumbed open the lid and drew a hearty swallow. The coffee was still surprisingly steaming hot, giving her core temperature a much-needed boost. She heard the rumble of a truck engine pulling up in front of the ranch house. Her heart began to beat a little quicker, hoping Crew was back from town a little earlier than expected.

Pushing open the heavy barn door, she carefully crossed the soft, mushy dirt now cluttered with mounds of snowflakes. It wasn’t quite cold enough to ice over, making the driveway a sloppy mess.

Oakleigh shielded her eyes from the icy droplets, and was surprised to see Dallas’ new truck parked out front. Maeve climbed out of the driver’s seat and forcefully closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing home early?” Oakleigh called out with her gloved hands cupped around her mouth. The sharp cold hit her throat, making her cough. “Did you miss my coffee that much?”

“I did miss the coffee,” Maeve admitted. Leaning back on the truck, she appeared distracted .

Oakleigh’s boots threatened to slip in the muck, but she was excited to report how well she had managed the ranch in Maeve’s absence.

“A bear ripped through the fence in the west pasture,” she announced.

Maeve folded her arms and glanced up at the star-filled sky. “Oakleigh, I probably should’ve called you—”

“Sawyer wants me to carry a gun,” Oakleigh rattled off. “You know how I feel about that, Maeve.”

The passenger door of the truck opened and slammed shut. In the dim light from the porch, Oakleigh could only assume it was Dallas.

“Also —“ her voice going an octave higher, ripping the news off like a bandaid. “We might have some new animals.”

“Oakleigh,” Maeve interjected to no avail.

“Sawyer made a huge deal about it as usual,” Oakleigh said with an eye roll, “but I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Oakleigh’s eyes strained in the darkness. The passenger carefully tottered around the truck, giving away that it certainly was not Dallas.

Illuminated by the truck’s high-beam headlights, recognition hit Oakleigh like a kick to her stomach.

She gasped.

Her fingers released their grip on her mug, and it slipped into the slushy mud with a splash.

“Mom,” Oakleigh stammered. “You’ve got to stop showing up like this.”

Harper used the truck’s hood for stability and cautiously stepped through the slick, icy muck as though the ground itself was offending her.

Tucking a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear, Oakleigh searched Maeve for any reasonable explanation.

The woman, who was rarely at a loss for words, simply ran her fingers across her brow and mouthed —

“Sorry.”

Oakleigh averted her gaze and marched past them both toward the porch stairs, laser-focused on keeping her boots from sliding in the soft earth. Her mother seemed to thrive on chipping away at her dignity at every turn, and the last thing she needed was to end up covered in mud.

“Come now, Oakleigh,” Harper called after her, opening her arms wide. “It’s been months.”

Oakleigh recognized the false, bouncy tone in her mother’s voice. Every word lacked the genuineness and authenticity that she had come to value. Stopping in her tracks, she found the courage to meet Harper’s eyes, hoping for a glint of accountability for the hurt she had caused.

“Typical,” Harper shrugged, focusing her attention on her bright screen. She flipped on the glaring flashlight on her phone and navigated carefully, her heels vanishing into the squishy earth. “This driveway really should be paved, Maeve,” Harper badgered. “Not everyone likes to be covered in muck.”

As though summoned, Dozer came bounding down the steps to greet their newest guest. He pounced, leaving large, muddy prints on Harper’s delicate white top and tan slacks. His tongue flopped from his mouth as he panted, waiting impatiently to be petted.

“Ugh, go,” she recoiled with a flick of her hand. “Shoo.”

Maeve patted her thigh, “Dozer, leave her be.”

Dozer obediently jumped down. Heading straight to Maeve, she didn’t seem to care at all that his paws left muddy prints on her jeans. Stooping down, she let the rambunctious dog sneak a lick to her chin. “Aw, I missed you too, boy.”

Harper’s lip curled in disgust. She swiped at the mud, only streaking it more.

“Boots, Oakleigh,” Maeve reminded.

Oakleigh’s brow furrowed in frustration. She pulled off her boots, and flung them to the side of the porch. Storming through the entryway, she ignored the beckoning call of the warm, crackling fireplace and pivoted toward the stairs, desperately seeking the quiet safety of her bedroom.

Battling against her temper, she fought the urge to slam her door.

If there was ever a night to slam a door, it was that one.

She stripped out of her work clothes and flung them into a pile on the floor. The bitter cold had bit right through her jacket. She was shivering as she twisted the knob on the shower, holding her fingers under the stream until it ran steaming hot. When she stepped in, the water stung her frozen skin. The sensation reminded her of the chilly Pacific Ocean working through her warm wetsuit on those early mornings before dawn cracked across the horizon.

Paisley.

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” she anguished, banging her fist on the shower wall. Seeing her mother’s face had brought it all back, raw and bubbling to the surface.

Pulling a plush white towel off the rack, she wrapped it tightly around herself. Going next to her closet, she examined her wardrobe. She felt content with the functional style she had settled into. It was practical, yet she had discovered that practicality didn’t have to mean shabby. Oakleigh was realizing there was more to life than style, makeup, or expensive designer clothing. Although there was nothing essentially wrong with those things, she had found that true beauty came from within.

Her stomach roiled as she considered what her mother would think.

Feeling a surge of defiance, she aggressively pulled her cozy gray yoga pants with such force that the plastic hanger clattered against the closet wall. She then chose an oversized hoodie to match. Plopping down on her bed, she grabbed her phone and began to scroll. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was safe within the boundaries of her quiet room.

Not long after came the knock on her door that she had been expecting.

“It’s unlocked, Maeve,” she announced.

The door handle twisted, and Maeve stepped in. Expertly balancing two coffee mugs, she kicked the door closed with her heel. She set a mug on the nightstand and took a seat on the edge of her bed, patiently sipping her coffee in silence.

Maeve was annoyingly persistent when she chose to be.

“I’m fine, really,” Oakleigh emphasized. “Thanks for the coffee.” Admittedly, dropping her travel mug into the mud had been one of the biggest tragedies of the day, second only to the shock of her mother’s arrival.

“I don’t think you’re fine,” Maeve prodded, distractedly swirling the coffee around in her mug. “I’m certainly not.”

Oakleigh searched for the right words to express her frustration without lashing out. “I just wasn’t expecting this today.”

“I should have called ahead and warned you,” Maeve admitted, thumbing the smooth ceramic handle. “I’m sorry, Oakleigh.”

Oakleigh felt the sting of tears well up in the corners of her eyes at the genuine apology. Maeve was the only person she had ever known who not only took ownership when she had made a mistake, but truly meant it.

She took a long drink of her coffee, made perfectly as usual. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her nerve to ask what was weighing on her mind. “Why did you bring her here?”

“Because, well —” Maeve sighed, looking off into the distance as though she were questioning it herself. “I can’t explain it, but something seems off.”

Oakleigh raised a sharp eyebrow .

“More off than normal ,” Maeve added, attempting to hide her amused smile while taking another long sip of her coffee.

Their lighthearted camaraderie was precisely what Oakleigh had missed while Maeve was away.

They settled into silence, quietly enjoying their coffee in peace.

Oakleigh sat up and crossed her legs. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair as she considered. “We’ve been praying for her,” she shrugged. “Maybe she’s here for a reason?”

Maeve nodded, collecting her thoughts on the matter.

“Not every prayer gets answered the way we hope, Oakleigh,” Maeve finally replied. “I just want you to remember that.” She stood to her feet and headed to the door. “I’m going to make a late dinner,” she informed. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Maeve?” Oakleigh said, stopping her before she left. “Was your trip amazing?”

Responding with a warm smile, Maeve leaned her shoulder on the doorframe.

“The best.”

The aroma of chicken pot pie and freshly brewed coffee wafted into Oakleigh’s room, signaling that it was dinnertime. Powdery snow coated her bedroom window, jarred loose by the shudder of the front door slamming below, always a surefire indication that the boys were home.

Stepping into the hall, Oakleigh quietly closed her bedroom door behind her. The new hardwood flooring was slick, and she knew better than to traverse the stairs in her plushy, soft socks.

Just because she knew better didn’t mean she would do better.

Skipping down the stairs, she reached the last step and felt her footing betray her. Grasping onto the railing before her feet could slip from under her, she was relieved to find herself caught in the brawny arms of her cute cowboy.

“Hey there, love.” Crew looked down at her with a charming smirk. “You’re sure a sight for sore eyes.”

She clung to his shirt while clumsily finding her balance.

“Nice catch, cowboy.”

“I’ll tell you,” he drawled, leaning in to kiss her after their long day apart. “It’s colder than your mother’s heart out there.”

Oakleigh bit her lower lip. She looked into his trusting blue eyes, preparing to dash his spark of optimism with news of their unwelcome guest.

“Funny you should say that,” she began, interrupted by the sound of sharp footsteps clacking down the stairs behind them.

Crew’s eyes went wide as Oakleigh silently mouthed —

“Sorry.”

“Um, hello again, Mrs. Davenport.” He swallowed hard. Adjusting his posture, he extended his hand to greet her.

“Please, call me Harper,” she replied with a saccharine smile that made Oakleigh shiver.

In the nick of time, Maeve popped her head around the corner, announcing that dinner was ready.

Crew appeared on edge, lowering his voice to a panicked whisper. “Do you think she heard that bit about her cold heart?”

“No, I’m sure you’re fine,” Oakleigh reassured, although she was absolutely positive that her mother had heard every word.

They quietly sat beside each other at the table, and to Oakleigh’s horror, Harper took Maeve’s usual spot next to Crew.

Crew’s eyes went wide with a silent cry for help, but she was powerless to assist.

The front door slammed again, reverberating through the spacious living room. Sawyer looked nearly frozen, heading straight for the roaring fireplace.

“Hey Mom, I saw the truck outside,” he announced, his voice shaking from the cold. “I’m glad to see you home.” He rubbed his hands together, gathering friction to thaw his frozen fingers. “Boy, does dinner smell great — Oakleigh just about had us starved.” Raising his eyes, he finally noticed their guest reclining at the dining room table.

“And why’s she here?” Sawyer challenged, his eyes narrowing. The words had barely left his mouth before Maeve yanked him into the kitchen by his elbow .

Oakleigh couldn’t quite decipher the stern whispers, but it was clear from Maeve’s tone that she was establishing firm boundaries for the dinner table that evening. When Sawyer emerged from the kitchen, he took his spot at the table without so much as a sarcastic mumble.

Maeve found a place to sit, not seeming to care at all that her usual seat was taken.

“Let’s bless the food,” Maeve prompted, taking Sawyer’s hand and extending the other to Oakleigh.

“Oh, we’re holding hands? How quaint,” Harper observed. “Would you like me to say the prayer?”

“Thank you for the offer,” Maeve calmly replied, “but I think I’ve got this one handled.”

Bowing her head, she thanked God for the blessings he had bestowed on the family.

Oakleigh cracked an eye, observing her mother in the quiet, sacred moment. Her cheerful veneer momentarily cracked, leaving an unmistakable glare of disdain. By the time Maeve’s prayer came to a close, Harper’s forced smile quickly replaced the utter contempt she held for her younger sister.

“Wonderful prayer, Maeve,” Harper dripped. “Now that you’re a pastor’s wife, you’ll have much more practice.” Her compliment was loaded with a condescending tone that almost gave her away. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

Oakleigh pressed her lips shut, holding back the truth she wanted to hurl back in Maeve’s defense. Harper had led their congregation of thousands in the most eloquent of prayers, but never once had she uttered them out of the public’s eye.

Maeve seemed entirely unaffected by Harper’s snide, underhanded comment. “Thank you, Harper,” she replied.

Harper’s jaw ticked with frustration at the mild response. It was a look that Oakleigh knew well.

“You think Dallas will get back in time before the roads close?” Crew inquired. Using the large serving spoon to pierce through the flaky crust of the pot pie, he piled up his plate with the delectable supper.

“Hoping so,” Maeve stated, smoothing the napkin across her lap. “In the meantime, we’ll work on getting a pen ready for our newest addition.”

“Well, there ain’t no room in the barn,” Sawyer interjected, scooping some pot pie onto his plate. “Did Oakleigh tell you about her latest viral idea?”

“She mentioned something about some new animals,” Maeve acknowledged.

“It’s just a few baby chickens,” Oakleigh rattled off quickly. “And goats.”

“Just a few—” Sawyer sputtered. “You just wait until morning, Mom. This rooster—” he trailed off. Putting his palms in the air to punctuate his frustration, he searched for just the right words. “Let’s just say there ain’t enough coffee in the world. ”

Maeve tilted her head, biting her lip as she considered. “Baby animals in the winter,” she remarked. “What an ambitious venture.”

“Ambitious! More like—” Sawyer cut his words short, receiving a sharply raised eyebrow from Maeve. He quietly passed the dish to Harper, who barely scooped more than a bite onto her plate. Sawyer took his frustration out on a carrot, stabbing it aggressively with his fork while muttering under his breath. “Don’t you California people ever eat?”

Harper pushed a potato around on her plate. “I’m so grateful for your warm hospitality,” she announced. “But I’m afraid I’ll be flying out tomorrow morning.”

“I dunno about that,” Crew said, chomping down on a large bite of chicken. “I bet this snow shuts the airport down.”

“Well,” Maeve spoke up, “We’re all praying that’s not the case.”

Harper scrunched her nose, offering another syrupy smile.

“Of course you are.”