Page 126 of Sunday Morning

Oh … and homeless and careless.

“Isaac is a complicated young man. He leaves when things get tough. But he always returns. I just”—she bit her lip for a few seconds—“I wouldn’t wait around for him. Make things right with your family. Start college. Be the amazing woman I know you are.”

I wasn’t her definition of amazing. And I didn’t want to do anythingbutwait for Isaac.

“You don’t have any idea where he went?”

“He took his trailer and horse. So my best guess is he’s rodeoing.”

I chewed on my thumbnail.

“Sarah, how did you leave things with Matthew?”

I paused my chewing and stared at her.

“Sweetie, he won’t talk to anyone. If he’s not playing baseball, he’s in his room with music blaring. I’ve been trying to do everything since Isaac left.”

The farm stand.

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t have a car.”

She frowned. “What if we helped you get something?”

“I don’t think Matt will want me anywhere near him.”

“I think you underestimate how much he loves you.”

Be vulnerable. Feel everything.

“I think you underestimate how badly I hurt him.”

Vi sat next to me and held my hand. “Did you mean to hurt him?”

“No. But I knew it would hurt him, and I did it anyway. Have you ever done that? Have you ever done something that you knew would hurt someone, but you chose to do it anyway?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

I didn’t expect that.

Vi squeezed my hand before standing. “By the grace of God, I am what I am.” She opened the door to the motel room. “We’ll drop a car off later, and you can come back to work when you’re ready.”

With each passing day,my anger toward Isaac grew.

I didn’t want a guitar; I wanted him.

How could he abandon me after everything we shared in Nashville? After I lost my two closest friends?

A week after Violet and Wesley dropped off an old truck that had been parked in the machine shed, I found the courage to leave the motel and go back to work.

When I opened the door to the truck, my mom pulled into the parking spot next to me.

“Don’t cry,” I whispered to myself, taking a shaky breath.

She stepped out and gently closed her door. “Hi,” she said with a much calmer demeanor than the broken-down woman I left over a week earlier.

“Hi.” I gave her a sad smile as she walked around the car.

She stopped a few feet from me, and I took the last two steps and hugged her.