Page 60 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

“I needed to finally deal with the trauma I’d been avoiding. It was exhausting to always be on the move and doing what needed to be done, but it was also an excellent distraction, a handy way of never dealing with all the pain I’d been dealt. When I finally held still long enough to let it catch up with me, it did so with a vengeance, like a shovel to the face. And, being the mature grownup I am, I tried to run away again. But this time Baird came after me and just…let me feel. He held me and sat with me in the pain, didn’t try to fix me or tell me it was going to be okay. He made it okay for me to be sad. I lingered in the sadness a while, marinated in it. Those were some dark days. Not a lot got done. The house was messy, the beds unmade, the meals uncooked, the laundry unwashed. Sometimes he would come home from a long day on the ranch and find me lying on the floor, staring at nothing, doing nothing. And I would see him and realize how much time had passed and I would cry and apologize for all the things I hadn’t done. And do you know what he did?”

Celeste shook her head.

“He lay down on the floor beside me, gathered me close, kissed my cheeks, and said, ‘So what? So what, Maybe, it’s only laundry. It’s only a little dust. We have plenty of food in the freezer. So what?’ I had spent so much of my life in crisis mode, stressing over every moment, over every possible outcome of every day. You have no idea how powerful it was to hear someone say, ‘So what?’ Because then I started to ask myself, ‘So what? So what if I’m almost forty and still have no idea what I want to be when I’m a grownup? So what if I’m not going to win housewife, cook, or mother of the year? I’m doing my best, and right now my best is going to have to be good enough.’ After thatI stopped trying so hard to be perfect, to do all the things and be all the things. I started trying to be okay with average, with ordinary. Some days I get everything done, I rock being a wife, mother, and grandma. Some days I wear two different shoes and forget to open the glass door before walking onto the patio. So what?” She shrugged. “So much of life is letting go of the vision in your head, of the person you think you should be, of the way you think your life should look. I’m not perfect. I never will be, ever. I’ll always be that person with my head in the clouds who talks too much and often says the wrong thing. But I’m trying my best. I’m taking it moment by moment. And I’m happy; I’m fulfilled; I’mcontent.”

Celeste would kill for “content.” She didn’t say so because, unlike Maybe, she wasn’t comfortable baring her soul to a stranger. Or anyone, really. But she had a lot to think about. “I have to admit I’m a little envious. Baird sounds like a wonderful guy.”

“He’s the best,” Maybe agreed. She darted Celeste a covert glance. “Sam seems like a good guy.”

“He does,” Celeste agreed. “We don’t know each other that well.”

“Ah, early days,” Maybe said with a knowing nod. “Those are fun times. Also terrible. But mostly fun.”

“Why terrible?” Celeste asked.

“Because you don’t know what he’s thinking. You don’t know if he likes you as much as you like him, if it’s going to work out, if he’sthe one.” She took her hands off the wheel to make air quotes. Celeste gripped her seat when the truck yanked sharply to the right. “That doesn’t seem normal. Maybe there’s something wrong with the tires. I’ll have Jack take a look.”

Celeste bit back her reply. She thought it was more likely something wrong with the driver who probably shouldn’t use her hands to talk, at least not while driving. She’d bet Jackhad to take a lot of “looks” at vehicles after his mother used them. And even after one interaction with the kid, who seemed almost angelically good, he probably did so with a smile and no longsuffering sigh whatsoever.

“I just don’t have good luck with cars,” Maybe muttered to herself.

Celeste turned to the window to hide her smile.

Chapter 28

Afew hours later, Sam was awed and impressed when Celeste arrived home with chili and pie, both of which she’d made herself.

“Did you know that chili is such a contentious topic it’s inspired wars?” Celeste asked as they sat down to eat their bounty.

“Really?” Sam asked.

“Yes, at least in the Montgomery household. Apparently when Maybe and Baird first got married, she made chili the way she’d always made it and he asked her why she put ground beef in her tomato soup. She thought he was joking, but he wasn’t. He told her chili wasn’t chili unless it was made with chuck roast.”

“This has both things in it,” Sam noted, staring at his bowl.

“Yes, apparently the way to compromise in Montana is to double the beef. But then the beans were an argument.”

“There are beans in here,” Sam said.

“Maybe won that one. Because fiber.”

“Ah, she played the constipation card,” Sam said, nodding. “My mother used to do that.”

“But then there were the spice wars.”

“India?”

“Chili powder versus actual chili peppers. And Maybe put sugar in her chili and she said that was the only time Baird has ever tried to sleep on the couch,” Celeste said.

“I guess when Shakespeare said ‘the course of true love never did run smooth,’ he must have been referring to chili,” Sam noted.

“You’re pretty hot for a nerd,” Celeste said, reaching for her glass of water.

“Maybe I’m just a nerd and everything is hot,” Sam said, also reaching for his water.

“They compromised on the chili by doubling that, too,” Celeste said, adding another dollop of sour cream to her chili to try and cut the heat.

“It’s good, though. So good,” Sam said, pausing to shovel a few bites. “Did you have fun?”

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