26. Miserable Drunk

Chapter 26

Miserable Drunk

M aeve clasped Dallas’ hand as he steered the truck down the dirt road. It felt right to be closely beside him once again. She ran her thumb across his rough palm, savoring their quiet moment together. Arriving back at the ranch house much too soon, she wrapped her arm around his bicep and leaned her head on his firm shoulder. Closing her eyes, she felt the roughness of his beard and the softness of his lips as he lifted her chin for their long-awaited kiss.

“It’s good to be home,” he breathed.

Home.

Hearing the very words from his mouth was like a toasty warm blanket.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable here,” she replied.

His eyes crinkled in the corners. “I’m happy to be wherever you are, darlin’.”

Before Maeve could melt into his arms right then and there, they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the passenger window .

It was Oakleigh, shivering in the dark with her arms crossed tightly to her chest. Snowflakes were already piling up on the shoulders of her jacket as she waved her bright phone screen, gesturing for Maeve to roll down her window.

Maeve sighed, giving Dallas a dramatic side eye, sparking his deep chuckle.

“Woman,” he said, amusement marking his tone. “You got so many fires to stomp out, I’m surprised the soles of your boots ain’t melted.”

“I’m aware,” she replied dryly, nudging him with her elbow.

Oakleigh bounced from one foot to the other to conserve her body heat as the bone-chilling wind howled off the pasture and swept through her blonde hair.

“Um, if you could hurry things along before I freeze to death,” she exclaimed, her voice muffled through the glass window. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

Maeve finally pressed the button, rolling down her window. “What’s up?”

“So,” Oakleigh said, catching her breath. “You know how we noticed the vibe was off with Mom?”

Although Harper’s demeanor was predictably unpredictable, Maeve had sensed something was actually wrong with her temperamental sister that evening. Oakleigh had confirmed her suspicion after she had returned from dropping her off at home. One thing Maeve had unexpectedly come to rely on was Oakleigh’s vibes . The young woman’s intuition was rarely off target .

Oakleigh displayed her bright phone screen. Maeve took it from her hands, pulling it toward her and back again as her eyes adjusted in the darkness.

Dallas covered his mouth with his palm to conceal his amusement.

“Don’t laugh at me, Dal,” she smirked, giving him another elbow. “I need my glasses.”

“Who’s laughing?” Dallas chuckled again.

“Okay, guys,” Oakleigh implored, “I’m serious.”

The slight break in her tone caught Maeve’s attention and she focused on the screen.

Celebrity Pastor Confirms Divorce Rumors

Below the headline was a photograph of Shepard Davenport. There were more than a few recognizable faces on the Elder Board beside him, laying hands on his shoulders.

“She’s cooked,” Oakleigh concluded, her brow furrowing. “The whole viral video with the hot mic, well —” she exhaled. “It’s making the rounds again.”

Maeve set the phone back into Oakleigh’s gloved palm. “Have you contacted your dad?” she asked. It was a shot in the dark, knowing that Oakleigh had reached out several times over the past two years and had received no response.

“I texted him,” Oakleigh shrugged. “You know how it is.”

Maeve took a deep sip of frosty mountain air. She was unsure of exactly what they were walking into, but she was confident it was going to be a bumpy night. Giving Dallas’ hand one more squeeze, she pushed her door open and stepped into the deep snow.

Dallas called out after her through the open passenger window. “Is there anything I can do?”

She leaned her elbows on the door, biting her lip as they exchanged a long glance. How she would have loved to have his strength by her side that evening, but this was her burden to bear.

“This is another one I’ll have to take on my own, Dal.”

His eyes filled with concern as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. He met her on the driveway and held her close, reminding her she wasn’t alone. He was there for the long haul, no matter what.

“Head on up to bed, and try to get some rest,” she whispered. Stepping out of his embrace, she turned to Oakleigh. “Let’s go.”

Maeve led the way up the porch steps, and into the house’s entryway. “I want you to stay out of it as best you can.” Sensing that Oakleigh’s emotions were already running high, all she needed was the young woman’s sharp tongue to throw fuel onto the fire.

Oakleigh went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee while Maeve knelt to place another log on the fire. She quietly stoked the embers, using her last peaceful moment to pray.

Dallas went up the stairs to bed, and everything in her wanted to follow. The thought of climbing in next to him, and leaving it all until the morning was an overwhelming temptation .

It’s time to stop stalling.

She felt Oakleigh’s eyes on her as she went to the staircase and trudged up each step. Going down the long hallway, she arrived at the guest bedroom where Harper was staying. She raised her fist and knocked loudly on the door.

“Harp?” Maeve replied. The punctuated silence drove her to keep talking, hoping that she would eventually garner a response. “I heard what happened — I’m checking in.”

Harper’s voice came muffled through the heavy wood door. “I’m sure you are.”

Maeve could already detect that Harper’s words ran together like cursive.

She cleared her throat, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Without waiting for an invitation, she turned the handle and cracked open the door to the darkened room. The light from the hall cast a beam, illuminating Harper on the floor with the empty flask beside her. She had an absent, glazed look, and her mascara stained her cheeks with chaotic black smears. Maeve’s letters were unceremoniously torn open from their envelopes and strewn around her.

Maeve folded her arms and leaned her shoulder on the doorframe.

“You’re drunk.”

“And what did you expect?” Harper slurred. “That you’d give me a cup of coffee and a hug — and just like that, I’d be a different person? ”

She kicked her heel into the flask, sending it sliding across the smooth floor.

“You did, didn’t you.” She laughed callously. “You’re an idiot if you think people change.” Her volume increased as her lip curled up in disgust. “But that’s who you’ve always been — a hopeful idiot.”

Maeve searched for any rationality behind her sister’s dull gaze and found none. “You’re not yourself,” she replied, bringing the tone down with futile hopes that Harper would follow suit. “Why don’t you get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Harper clambered to her feet. “I think we’re going to talk about this now,” she snapped, her dull eyes flashing with anger.

“Not when you’re like this,” Maeve sternly replied, turning away down the hall.

Her firmly established boundary seemed to fuel Harper’s rage.

“Don’t you ever turn your back to me!” Harper lashed out as she lunged for Maeve’s shoulder.

In another chapter of life, had anyone dared to lay a hand on Maeve in that way, she would have turned and swung a fist. Fortunately for Harper, she had learned to control her quick temper.

Hearing the commotion in the hallway, Bethany unwittingly popped her head outside her bedroom door. Her eyes bounced between the two women, sensing the thick tension in the air .

“Oh, so this is what Audrey was talking about,” she observed before closing her door and returning to the safety of her bedroom.

Maeve maintained her poise, but felt her long fuse burning quickly. Knowing the argument would inevitably escalate, she had to get Harper out of the hallway. She was thankful that Dallas was a sound sleeper, and was convinced a freight train barreling through the house couldn’t wake the man.

However, the last thing she wanted was to rouse Sawyer. His fierce protectiveness would undoubtedly drive the wounded cowboy to intervene. This was a confrontation brewing for decades, and Maeve knew she had to handle it alone.

Taking the stairs, she felt Harper clipping her heels behind her. It was a miracle her reeling gait hadn’t sent her tumbling.

“You think you’re going to get away that easy?” Harper scoffed.

Maeve rounded the stairs into the living room right as Crew stepped through the front door, coming in from his chores at just the wrong time.

“That Peaches is some heifer, Maeve,” he drawled. “She’s going to give us a cowboy killer, maybe even larger than Big Slim.”

His lips parted, finally noticing the situation unfolding in the living room.

“Everything okay?” he timidly inquired.

“Crew,” Maeve said quickly, pulling her fingers across her brow. “Why don’t you — ”

It was too late.

“Oh, look who it is, Oakleigh’s cute cowboy, “ Harper announced, her tone loaded with antagonism. “Letting them live under the same roof — really, Maeve?” she smirked. “Are you gunning for a repeat?”

“Harper, stop it,” Maeve demanded, but not before Oakleigh stepped out of the kitchen. It was too late to shield her from Harper’s harsh barbs.

“You know, Oakleigh has quite the reputation back home,” Harper scathed. “No wonder you two get along so well.”

“Mom!” Oakleigh gasped, her eyes brimming with betrayal.

Crew went to Oakleigh’s side, raising his arms in a deluded attempt to referee the chaos. “Now, wait just a minute.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Harper practically purred. “Tripping over yourself for used goods.”

Oakleigh swept Crew’s hand aside, boldly stepping into the fray. “As if you should talk!” she shouted.

Maeve intervened between them in fragile hopes of regaining control. “This isn’t about her, Harper — and you know it.”

“It is about her,” Harper erupted, her face going red with anger. “She did this.”

She pushed past Maeve, and pointed a finger at Oakleigh.

“You did this.”

There was hatred in her eyes as she spoke the words meant to wound. “We were perfectly happy, and you ruined it — you ruined everything! ”

Her tone turned icy.

“We all agreed we were better off without you,” she snarled. “You’re good for nothing.”

Oakleigh’s eyes glossed with tears as she quietly looked away.

Maeve felt her temper rise. She grabbed Harper’s wrist in a firm grip, forcibly removing her finger from Oakleigh’s face.

“That’s enough.”

“Or else what?” Harper goaded, daring to shove Maeve back a step. The force it took backfired, causing Harper to grab the back of the sofa to regain her footing. “Just what are you going to do about it, Maeve?”

Maeve pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath as she felt Oakleigh’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction.

“No, Maeve, tell me,” Harper needled, knowing how to push every button. “Or better yet, why don’t you give me a long Sunday school lesson about how I should talk to my own daughter.”

Harper tilted her head, pausing as she twisted her razor-sharp dagger. “Just because you couldn’t have kids of your own doesn’t mean you can have mine.”

“You’re just like —” Maeve gulped down the last words, knowing it was a step too far.

“Say it,” Harper spat. It was obvious she was desperate to top off her tank of self-loathing.

Maeve turned away, gazing into the fireplace as she struggled to regain her composure. “You’d rather bury yourself than look in the mirror, Harper,” she breathed .

Harper clenched her teeth, pulling at the string of pearls around her neck.

“I said,” she hissed. “Say it, Maeve.”

Maeve met her eyes with a look loaded with history only Harper would understand. “You’re just like him.”

Rage burned in Harper’s expression as she gripped her necklace and yanked. The smooth pearls clattered across the floor, scattering in every direction. Turning on her heels, she stumbled through the entryway, slamming the door so hard that it shook the walls.

There was an uneasy silence left in Harper’s destructive wake.

Crew dared to speak up first.

“She’s gonna freeze out there.”

“And so what if she does,” Oakleigh mumbled callously, crossing her arms as though it were strong armor. “She’s a miserable drunk.”

Maeve turned again to the fireplace, steadying her palm on the mantle. “Let her sleep it off in the barn.”

“If she makes it to the barn,” Crew observed with a tinge of concern.

Maeve watched the flames dance across the crackling wood as she drew her fingers down her chin. Even though every fiber of her being resisted, she felt pressed to do the right thing.

“Dang it, Harper,” she whispered, slamming her fist on the mantle. Taking a moment to breathe, she said a quick prayer, asking the Lord for patience and compassion despite Harper’s cruelty.

When she had regained control of her heated emotions, she quietly passed Oakleigh and Crew. She felt their eyes on her as she went through the entryway, and pulled her jacket off the hook. She put her arms through the warm coat and zipped up the front. Pausing only to grab a second jacket, she tucked it under her arm and opened the front door.

She stepped into the blustery winter night.

It was cold, and visibility was low as she trudged through the snow. By the time she reached the barn, the fringe of her pants was coated with ice. Noticing the barn door ajar, Maeve said a quick prayer of thankfulness that Harper hadn’t stumbled into the pasture where she would undoubtedly freeze to death.

She closed the door behind her, preserving whatever heat was left in the dimly lit barn. The animals made scuffling sounds at her presence while she stood on her toes, and peered into each stall.

Harper was nowhere to be found.

She finally arrived at the warmest corner where the baby goats were being housed. Maeve sighed, catching a glimpse of the one she was searching for.

Harper was curled into a ball in the filthy hay, not even remotely dressed warm enough in her tank top and yoga pants. Her knees were pulled tightly to her chest, and she was quaking from the cold. Maeve opened the gate, carefully stepping over the soundly sleeping baby goats. Retrieving the jacket from under her arm, she draped it over her sister’s shivering body.

It would have served her right to be left alone in the dank, smelly barn all night to fend for herself.

Maeve pressed out a long exhale.

Putting her back against the barn wall, she slid into the hay beside her sister. Before she had even had a chance to settle in, Harper hoisted herself on one elbow and plopped her head down on Maeve’s lap.

Her brow furrowed at the tender action, which seemed unusual after their heated altercation. Reminding herself that Harper was intoxicated, she got as comfortable as she could on the hard, dusty barn floor.

Maeve gently swept her blond ponytail out of the filthy hay. It brought back a flood of memories of that night in the hallway, when she couldn’t do anything to soothe Harper’s battered, bruised body. Even though the wounds were a different shade after all the years between them, Maeve still found herself powerless to quell her sister’s agony.

“Maeve—” Harper spoke up.

“Yes, Harp?” Maeve asked, praying that it wasn’t going to be another argument.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Harper replied in a raspy whisper.

“Which time?” Maeve sighed.

Harper gulped hard. “I’m sorry for what I said about Oakleigh. ”

“She’ll be happy to hear that from you,” Maeve answered. “When you’re —” She searched for kinder words than she wanted to say. “Feeling better.”

“And,” Harper continued, her words running together in a chaotic stream of thoughts. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t have kids.” She paused as though considering. “You should have been Oakleigh’s mom,” she mumbled. “You would have done a much better job than me.”

Even though Maeve had often considered it, she wouldn’t rub salt in Harper’s wounds.

“Maeve?” Harper glanced up, as though she wanted to be sure her sister was still listening.

“Yes?” Maeve tilted her head.

Harper blinked, grasping Maeve’s hand. “I’m sorry for what I did that made you leave.”

Maeve felt her breath escape.

Even though she knew it was simply Harper’s drunken, guilt-laden ramblings, it was an apology she had never expected to hear. She leaned her head back on the barn wall, her gaze flicking upward to the high beams on the ceiling as tears burned the corners of her eyes.

“Don’t leave me again?” Harper slurred. “Promise?”

“Get some rest, Harp,” Maeve replied, feeling her voice shake as she swiped her wrist under her nose. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”