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27. Pressed

Chapter 27

Pressed

H arper’s bloodshot eyes sprung open to a screech resembling the unpleasant vibration of nails on a chalkboard. Entirely disoriented, her blurry vision focused on the cockeyed rooster staring down at her, perched on what looked to be the gate of a barn stall.

“Shut up, stupid bird,” she shouted hoarsely. Pain struck like a lightning bolt, causing her to slam her eyes shut and jerk her fingers to the center of her brow.

Nugget tilted his feathery head. His cold, unblinking gaze seemed to register Harper’s reaction as more of a challenge than a threat. Nugget’s chest puffed out, and his back arched as he let out another sharp, high-pitched cry that pierced through her eardrums.

“This must be a nightmare,” she stammered. Harper still wasn’t sure where she was, but two things were certain —

It stank, and the dry, scratchy linens must have been cheap.

Clenching her teeth from the pain, she dared to crack her eyes open again. Her pillow felt dry and scratchy because it wasn’t a pillow at all. She was lying in a bed of moist, smelly straw.

Four little hooves pranced onto her back, and the realization sank in that she wasn’t experiencing a nightmare.

I’m in the barn.

She lifted herself out of the filthy hay, causing the furry baby goat to tumble into a heap. Pulling her knees under her, the overwhelming rancid smell of the barn made her pause on all fours. The blurry details of the night before came flooding back in chaotic fragments.

Her divorce.

The vodka and pills.

— and the terrible things she said to Oakleigh.

They were the words of someone else.

Maeve was right — she was just like him.

She felt her stomach heave as she slammed her hand over her mouth to hold back what she knew was inevitable. The very little she had left in her stomach exploded through her fingers, adding the sour smell of vomit to the putrid scent of the barn. Wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her wrist, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been so sick. Her brain felt like it was cracking in two, every joint ached, her throat was scratchy, and her eyes felt as dry as the straw where she had blacked out.

You’re too old for this.

Flashes of images and snippets of the argument with Maeve ran through her mind, but it was all a jumble. Eyeing her phone a few feet away, half buried in the straw, she crawled to it. Her lip curled in disgust when she saw it had been peppered with a few pellets of dark black goat poop.

Picking up the device with two fingers, she tipped it to let the foul excrement tumble into the hay. Harper found a clean spot in the stall to sit, crossing her legs as she took a moment to tap her screen in hopes of jarring her foggy mind. At first glance, nothing seemed unusual, just a few profanity laden, alcohol fueled texts to Shep. They had all bounced back with a notification that read — not delivered.

“Typical,” she mumbled, wincing again at the loudness of her own voice.

A violent squawk came from Nugget, who was keenly eyeing her from his perch.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she muttered. Going next to her social media, she noticed a flurry of notifications and tags. Her stomach turned once again as she scrolled through her posts. The feed was inundated with the recycled sound bite of her accidental public confession, her most vulnerable moment blasted out for everyone to mock. How they savored watching the seemingly righteous tumble from grace.

The viral video, which was once stifled quickly by the Davenport Ministries social media team was, without a doubt, reposted intentionally on Shep’s behalf. He needed to bolster his justification for the divorce, and there was no lack of support from his megachurch. Shep was back in power, unscathed, and already expertly manipulating his congregation .

She leaned her head back on the barn wall and pressed out a long exhale. It was the first time in all their tumultuous years of marriage that he had dared to weaponize his influence against her.

Harper swept her hand over the loose blonde wisps of hair flying free from her ponytail as she considered the consequences of her careless choices. There was no private car to whisk her away to her jet. She would have to go through the house to at least gather her things, which meant risking another tense interaction.

Harper was in no condition to defend herself.

Finding a handhold, she groaned as she lifted herself to her feet. Her hands shot to her lower back, which immediately tightened from the hard night on the barn floor. Twisting and stretching, she felt her muscles loosen enough so she could at least straighten. Harper swiped bits of straw off her jeans and picked spikey pieces of hay from her tank top. She knew there was no salvaging the outfit, even if she tried.

Pushing open the barn door, the bright sunlight reflected off the snow, sending another painful jolt through her temples. The bitter cold pierced her, and her bare feet burned in the slick, icy slush. Recalling the jacket Maeve had draped over her, she now regretted leaving it behind in the barn. She knew Maeve's thoughtfulness was the only reason she hadn’t frozen.

Harper cringed, her face flushing red hot with embarrassment as she recalled laying her head in Maeve’s lap .

When she got to the steps, she put her hand on her aching back and carefully reached down to grab a handful of snow. The jagged ice stung as she rubbed it between her hands until it melted away. She swiped the frigid moisture across her mouth, being sure to rid herself of any sour remnants of her sick stomach.

When she was ready to enter the house, her basic need for warmth took priority over her anxious fear of running into Maeve or Oakleigh.

The living room was delightfully toasty and warm from the crackling fireplace. The comforting aroma of pancakes, bacon, and fresh coffee wafted to her nostrils. Harper’s queasy stomach yearned for the greasy meal.

She quietly went to the stairs, hoping to go unnoticed. Placing her foot on the first step, she glanced up to the top of the staircase. In her condition, the steep climb might as well have been a trek up the tallest peak. She looked back with longing at the comfortable sofa, wishing with all her might that she could simply curl up in front of the fire and sleep the day away.

She gulped down her ever-churning insides, forcing herself to take another step. Her stomach rebelled, sending whatever was left back into her throat.

“Not here, Harper,” she pleaded, slamming her palm across her mouth. She tasted the burning, gurgling bile as she forced herself up another step.

“Harp?” Maeve’s voice echoed from the kitchen .

She clenched her eyes shut, and ran her fingers across her brow.

Caught.

She braced herself for whatever painful accountability was waiting for her.

Instead, Maeve’s voice softened.

“I’m glad you’re up,” she announced. “Breakfast is ready.”

Harper’s eyes went wide.

Sitting at the table with the family was the last thing on earth she wanted to do. Yet she was faced with the stark reality that she would never make it up the insurmountable staircase in her unfortunate condition. Taking a long step back, she braced herself on the railing until her stomach settled just enough. She bit the side of her lip hard as the feeling of dread overwhelmed her.

Why am I worrying?

She considered how she was most likely an afterthought that morning. They would hand her a plate of whatever was left over, and she would find a corner of the house to eat alone.

Harper gathered the nerve to lift her eyes, glancing around at the family bustling around the dining room table in preparation for the hearty breakfast. Crew was in the kitchen, piling toast on a plate as the bread popped out of the toaster. Bethany set a heaping bowl of scrambled eggs in the middle of the oak table. Maeve pulled the last of the sizzling bacon off the skillet, placing the slices on a platter .

“Most important part,” Dallas quipped, picking a slice of bacon up with two fingers. “Ow! It’s hot!” he exclaimed. Shoving the bacon into his mouth, he blew out a puff of steam.

“Well, what did you think it was going to be?” Maeve scolded, lifting an eyebrow.

Dallas grinned as he leaned over and kissed her with his greasy lips. “Love you, darlin.”

Oakleigh came around the corner with the percolator full of fresh, hot coffee. “I’m starving. Let’s eat,” she said, noticeably pausing as her eyes connected with her mother. Without a word, she stepped past Harper and set the coffee on the table.

Maeve squeezed Dallas’ shoulder as she passed him by. He took her hand and pressed his lips to it, looking at her as though she were the center of the universe. Harper couldn’t help but feel the sting of resentment, considering how no man had ever looked at her that way. Now that she was heading for a brutal divorce, she knew it was a healthy dynamic she might never have the chance to experience.

She hung back while the family took their places around the large dining room table. When they all settled in, she took in a quick breath of surprise.

There was one empty place left, set just for her.

She hadn’t been an afterthought at all.

Making her way over, she slid into the seat beside Maeve.

They bowed their heads to bless the food, and Maeve discreetly placed two white aspirin pills onto her plate. Harper couldn’t help but feel grateful for the kind gesture. She noticed that Maeve also slipped a piece of bacon to Dozer who was waiting eagerly under the table for a treat.

Dallas said amen , and they began passing around the steaming hot platters of bacon, pancakes, and eggs. Harper took the bitter-tasting little pills, and washed them down with a glass of orange juice.

Running her fingers through her hair, Harper caught even more bits of straw jutting out from her blonde locks. She couldn’t imagine how terrible she looked or worse, how she smelled. Over the sound of flatware against the ceramic plates and the flurry of small talk, no one mentioned her at all.

Biting down on a piece of crispy bacon, she felt the greasy, salty food begin to settle her stomach.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Crew reach over and give Oakleigh’s hand a comforting squeeze. Unsurprisingly, Oakleigh had yet to offer her even a sideways glance. Harper had always thought there would be some gratification in being the one who finally pressed their fractured relationship to the point of shattering. In the absence of the fierce tension, glares, and petty comments, Harper felt the unexpected hollow feeling of loss.

Her daughter’s silence spoke volumes.

Oakleigh was fierce until she had been hurt past the point of caring.

They were alike in that way.

“I’m going to bring Sawyer a plate,” Bethany said cheerfully. “He says he’s coming to service today, even if it kills him. ”

Maeve shook her head. “If he thinks he’s leading worship —”

“I’ll let you two battle that one out,” Bethany smiled as she pushed her chair back, balancing Sawyer’s plate loaded with breakfast items.

“We’re going to church later this morning, Harper,” Dallas chimed in. The tone of his voice was warm and kind. “You’re welcome to come.”

The only place Harper wanted to be was in the sanctity of her quiet bedroom, tucked into her cozy bed. She certainly didn’t want to be seen in public. Clearing her throat, she moistened her dry, cracked lips before she spoke.

“I don’t think so,” Harper replied, her voice sounding raspy in her ears. “It’s not for me.” Even she could admit the response was odd for someone who had woven her entire identity in ministry.

None of it felt quite right anymore.

When breakfast came to an end, Harper found it much easier to accomplish the daunting task of climbing the stairs. She reached her bedroom and swung her door open. It clanged against the empty silver flask lying haphazardly on the hardwood floor. The room was littered with Maeve’s letters, torn up and irreverently strewn about. She swept the mess aside with her bare feet, making a path to her bed. She desperately needed a shower, yet the drive to lay down won out in the battle of essentials .

Sinking into the lumpy bed, it now felt gloriously soft on her sore body. She felt her muscles release as she settled in and clutched her pillow tightly to her chest. The aspirin was finally kicking in, and the pounding on her temples lessened to a low hum. She felt her eyelids grow heavy and, thankfully, drift closed.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep, but it certainly wasn’t long enough before she was awakened by a soft knock on the door.

“Who is it?” she grumbled, running her fingers across her brow. Her headache was gone, but the sharp feelings of guilt remained. She wasn’t sure if it was her hangover or the shame of her embarrassment, but Harper’s stomach hurt.

“It’s me,” Maeve’s voice came muffled through the door.

“I’m — um,” she sputtered. She knew there was an uncomfortable conversation looming, causing her anxiety to flair. “I’m busy.”

“I have coffee,” Maeve offered.

Harper sighed. “Come in.”

The doorknob turned, and Maeve entered the room. She was balancing two mugs in her hands, and closed the door behind her with the toe of her boot. Much to Harper’s dismay, Maeve sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, placing a palm on the soft quilt.

It was clear she was there to talk .

“I didn’t speak up at breakfast this morning — I’m sorry about that,” she began. “I want you to know you’re welcome to join us at church.”

Harper edged up, leaning her back on the headboard as she accepted the hot coffee. She brought it to her lips and took a long drink. “And Oakleigh?”

Maeve swirled the coffee in her mug, gathering her thoughts.

“She’s not ready, Harp.”

Harper took another long drink. Pressing her chapped, dry lips together, she savored the sting.

“But we talked about it,” Maeve continued with a fragile attempt at reassurance. “And she’s not going to pitch a fit if you decide to come.”

After a moment of silence, Maeve stood to her feet and headed to the door.

Harper felt an unexpected tide of emotion rise in her chest and settle as a lump in her throat. Now, with a clearer mind, she couldn’t deny that her recklessness the night before had frightened her.

“I just don’t want to be alone,” she choked, letting her vulnerabilities tumble out against her will.

Maeve paused in the doorway.

“You don’t have to be.”

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