Page 88 of Wyatt
Not the response she’d expected, but— “What’s with the bag?”
“Well, I am assuming you are considering taking your old Chevy Malibu beater, the one you left behind when you graduated from college, and frankly, that’s going to get you to Missoula at best. Which means you need to take my truck. So I decided to go Thelma and Louise on you. Hurry up with that coffee, we have miles to go.”
Her mother walked over to the cupboard and pulled down a travel mug.
RJ just stared at her. “What is happening here?”
Ma opened the lid of the cup, looked inside as if checking if it were clean. She walked over to the sink to rinse it out. “Haven’t used this in a while.”
“Ma?”
She shook out the cup, grabbed a towel. “Tate told me about your trip to Seattle to see Reba Jackson, and I thought…we don’t spend enough time together—”
“I’ve been here for nearly seven weeks.”
“I know. Most of it binge-watchingAlias, making cupcakes, and helping me can pickles. And brooding.”
“I haven’t been—”
“Yes, darling, you have. And I understand.” She reached for the coffee pot and filled her mug. “After your father died, I was absolutely shell-shocked. I wandered around for about a year not knowing what to do with myself, not sure who I was anymore. So much of my life had been tied to your father. I didn’t know how to do it alone. And then one day, I realized…I needed to stop looking at my grief and all the disappointments and start looking at what I still had.”
She capped the lid. “You and your brothers. This ranch. All this, and Jesus too. And I realized that I could go forward, trusting Jesus to carry me, or stay stuck. So, one day at a time, I stopped letting my grief have me and started giving my hurt—and my fears—over to Jesus. In exchange, He gave me peace.”
She walked over to the refrigerator. “It’s not about forcing yourself through the pain, honey.” Opening the fridge, she pulled out a couple apples, a container of yogurt. “It’s about exchanging your heart with the Lord’s.” She set those on the counter. “You will heal, Ruby. But not by trying to ignore your wounds or heal them with other things. WatchingAliaswill not make you braver. And we both know that cupcakes are of the devil.” She winked.
RJ just stared at her, her throat thick. “Ma, you can’t go to Seattle with me.”
“Yes, actually, I can.” She nodded to the coffee pot. “Better get your mug filled up. I want to get to know this Reba Jackson. Especially if we’re going to be related.” She opened the yogurt and grabbed a spoon. “I can’t believe Tate proposed.”
Out by the waterfall at sunset, just like RJ had suggested.
Her job here was finished.
“Fine,” RJ said. “But why don’t you just go with Tate and Glo? They’re leaving later today for Helena.”
“Travel with those two lovebirds? Yeah, that sounds fun.” She wrinkled her nose. “Listen, we’re due a girls’ trip anyway. Remember our last outing, to Vegas?”
“Ma. You were terrible. I tried to take you to a show and you covered your eyes the entire time.”
“So Vegas wasn’t my cup of tea. Frankly, I don’t think some of those shows should be anyone’s cup of tea, but it doesn’t mean I don’t like a good adventure.” She finished off her yogurt, dropped the spoon into the sink, and picked up a mesh bag, reaching for the apples. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Daylight’s burning.”
Huh.
They stopped for a coffee refill in Missoula, and by the time they hit Spokane, her mother suggested elevenses.
“So, tell me about this York guy you won’t talk about.” Her mother raised her eyebrow over a glazed donut from Dunkin’. She’d taken the wheel, her coffee mug wedged into the seat beside her. Her mother always looked dwarfed in the giant Chevy Silverado she’d refused to sell after RJ’s father died.
Now, she wore a pair of aviator sunglasses and definitely emitted a Susan Sarandon air as she pulled back out onto I-90.
RJ supposed that made her Geena Davis, Thelma, the meek housewife who fell for the sexy thief, Brad Pitt. Yeah, that sounded about right.
“He’s blondish. And quiet. And he was a Marine.”
“So, shoulders.”
“Ma!”
“And knows how to stand up to you is my guess.”