Claire McEwen - Reunited With The Cowboy

“Eva is right, you know,” Grandma cautioned. “You may run into some unhappy folks while you’re doing this study.”

Ha. She’d already met the unhappiest of them all. And he’d made it clear he didn’t want to work with her. Didn’t want her around here at all. “Well, it’s not like people in this town are going to welcome me back with some kind of celebration anyway.” Maya flushed at the hint of bitterness that had seeped into her tone and the silence that instantly coated the room in awkward truth.

“Now, Maya.” Mrs. Axel broke the silence to offer comfort. “The accident was a long time ago. Most people probably don’t even remember it. They definitely don’t blame you for it.”

“They did though,” Kathy said sharply. “All that nasty stuff about apples not falling far from trees. I gave a few people a piece of my mind about that.”

“I’ve heard about the accident,” Eva said. “But I’m sorry—I don’t understand about apples. Unless I’m prying...”

Grandma sighed. “It’s okay, Eva. It’s not a secret. Everyone knew that my daughter and her husband, Maya’s parents, were drug addicts. That’s why Maya came to live with me in the first place. After the accident, a rumor got started that Maya had been drinking when her car hit that tree.”

“Oh no.” Eva looked at Maya, her dark eyes bright with compassion. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Tests were done that night,” Grandma went on. “We proved there was no alcohol in Maya’s blood. The coroner ruled the death accidental.”

“But rumors have a way of sticking to things,” Annie said. “While boring old facts just blow on by.”

“Plus Trisha and Julie, the two girls riding in Maya’s car, had been drinking that night,” Kathy added. “So maybe that’s how the rumor got going.”

“I didn’t live in town back then,” Monique said. “But once in a while, gossip resurfaces in the salon. I don’t think most people believe that old rumor now, Maya.”

“Good to know,” Maya mumbled into her wine. Talking about all this was knocking her off-balance. They were all so casual, just chatting mildly about the thing that had shattered her heart and her world.

“Most?” Grandma looked at Monique sharply.

“Well, I’ve heard a few things I don’t like,” Monique admitted. “And I’ve always addressed it when I hear it. Unfortunately there are people out there who prefer their own version of things to the actual truth.”

Her words settled like mud in the bottom of Maya’s stomach. She’d known, of course, that there were people who’d happily resurrect old gossip. It was a small town and they needed something to talk about. But somehow the fact that Monique had witnessed it made it a lot more real.

“We need to help you face those people, Maya,” Annie said briskly. “We need to support you. I wish I’d supported you better back then.”

Eva lifted her glass toward Maya. “I’m happy to do whatever I can.”

“Me too,” Monique added.

“I’m okay,” Maya assured them, her skin going prickly with discomfort. “I’m used to handling things on my own. I’ll be fine.”

“But you don’t have to handle this on your own.” Kathy rummaged through her purse and pulled out a packet of tissues. She used one to dab her eyes. “I’m sorry. It just gets me very emotional.”

Her tissues had ducks on them. It was an unimportant detail, but Maya focused on it because seeing Kathy cry made her want to cry too.

“I feel the same as Annie.” Mrs. Axel’s voice was husky all of a sudden. “Maybe if more of us had gathered around you and spoken up for you, you would have felt like you could have stayed. Or at least come back to visit once in a while.”

Grandma wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Oh no, if she started crying, then Maya would lose it. And she didn’t lose it. Well, except for her meltdown by the side of the road the other day. She’d learned a long time ago that crying didn’t help. Mourning was a void she could get stuck in forever, because there was no closure when you’d been responsible for a death. Every day you lived was a day the other person didn’t. If you allowed yourself to cry, you might just never stop.

It was better to keep busy, stay focused, work hard and avoid other people and their emotions as much as possible. Because emotions were unpredictable. Look at her and Caleb. One day they’d been madly in love. Then the accident happened, and he’d instantly despised her.

That was why Maya had chosen a career that let her work alone, in the wilderness. In a solitary life, she couldn’t be hurt that way. And, most importantly, she couldn’t hurt anyone else.

The room had gone quiet, and the silence finally permeated Maya’s thoughts. She glanced around and saw that The Biddies were watching her expectantly, like she was supposed to say something.

“It’s okay,” Maya tried to reassure them. “I’m okay.” Really, she wanted to sink into the floor, down to the nice, cool, dark dirt of Grandma’s crawl space. Anywhere but here, with everyone’s pity and regret. “I’m sure it will all be fine. And I’m only going to be in town for a couple of months anyway.”

She wished suddenly, fervently, that she was still on the trail, setting up cameras, looking for scat and tracks. Those were things she could see and record and make sense of. That was peace. This was like standing in a hot spotlight, itchy and alone, picking at scars that never healed.

Kathy cleared her throat. “Just know that we are here for you. That if there is any gossip, we’ll try to stop it.”

“Anything you need—support for your work, someone to talk to, company if you are planning to go out—you just call one of us,” Mrs. Axel said.

Annie chimed in. “If you have trouble with any of the local ranchers, I’m your gal. None of them will give you a hard time if I’m around.”

Their kindness loosened the tears Maya had been holding back ever since seeing Caleb out on the trail. The salt stung her eyelids, and she reached for one of Kathy’s duck tissues.

“We may just be a bunch of Book Biddies,” Eva said, “but I think everyone in this room would like to help you feel at home here, in Shelter Creek.”

Grandma patted Maya’s knee. “You see? You’re not alone. You’ve got all of us.”

They were all being so wonderful, but they were seeing her as the sad, pathetic girl she’d been when she’d left this town. She’d changed since then, she was strong and independent. Why couldn’t they see that?

That was the danger of coming home. All that you’d become, all that you’d worked so hard for, wasn’t anything anyone could see. All they could see was a familiar face, and then they made familiar assumptions.

Still, all this was kindly meant. “Thank you,” Maya managed to say. “I appreciate it.”

Grandma’s soft hand reached for hers. “I’m sorry if we are too much. I guess we are all too old to ignore the elephant in the room.”

Maya scrubbed her palms over her eyes, wishing she could rub all this pity off her skin. “It feels a little like an intervention. Are you sending me to rehab?”

“Guilt rehab,” Kathy said. “You deserve to be comfortable in your own town. You may not choose to stay in Shelter Creek, but we don’t want you to live in exile.”

If only it was so simple. Was there really any rehab for the guilt and regret? Those things were just givens in Maya’s world. They wore away at her the way the Pacific’s waves eroded the cliffs by the coast. Little by little. Every day. All the time.

“This town needs to do better by you,” Annie said. “You’re brave to come home. Let us help while you’re here.”