Page 63 of Shift the Tide

Her dad put a hand on her shoulder, steadying and supportive. “Okay, now go to Austin and don’t worry about us.”

Kiera

I can be there around 2pm, if you need me. And if you think Maggie would be okay with that.

Izzy

I would never say no. But you don’t have to. I’d never want to ask you to be away from your girls.

Kiera

I’m coming. I’ll send you my flight details.

Izzy

Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that. See you soon, then.

The flightto Austin was a blur. When Kiera finally arrived, Maggie’s house was heavy with the kind of silence that lingered after loss. She let herself in with the code Izzy had given her,the weight of grief pressing against her chest before she even stepped inside.

Maggie was curled up on the couch, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. She was wrapped in one of her mom’s old cardigans, her body small and hunched over, like she was trying to disappear. Izzy sat beside her, a hand on her arm. The kids sat on the floor, watching a movie and playing with a magnetic tile set. “Hey champs,” Kiera said gently to the kids, who she’d only ever met on Facetime. They barely even looked up from the elaborate garage they were building as Kiera crossed the room and sat next to Maggie, pulling her into a gentle hug.

“Hey, Mags,” Kiera whispered, brushing Maggie’s hair from her face. What else was there to say? That she was sorry? That she was here to help? No words could come close to being the right ones, so instead she did the only thing she knew was right. She held space for whatever Maggie needed.

Maggie didn’t speak, didn’t react. She just folded into Kiera’s embrace and shook with silent, gut-wrenching sobs. Kiera gently rubbed Maggie’s back, offering comfort.

She met Izzy’s eyes, noticing the heavy circles there. She was right to have come. She reached out and squeezed Izzy’s arm in silent greeting.

Kiera and Izzy sat like that for hours, flanking Maggie on the couch, shifting only when she needed something — someone’s hand to squeeze, a shoulder to lean on, a tissue passed wordlessly. One of them would get up occasionally to fix snacks or warm leftovers from the fridge, to refill juice cups or remind the kids to take a few bites of something. They kept encouraging Maggie to eat too, nudging a bowl of soup into her hands or unwrapping a granola bar and setting it beside her without saying anything. No one filled the silence with advice or platitudes. They just stayed close, offering what they could.

They watched bothFrozenmovies, thenMoana, the TV quietly looping through familiar songs and bright animation while the afternoon slipped quietly into evening.

Eventually, the front door clicked open and Kiera glanced up to see Gwen walk in. Her shoulders were tight with worry, dark eyes shadowed by exhaustion. She looked worn, like she had been carrying her own version of heartbreak the whole way here. The kids ran to her, shouting and excited to see their mom. Maggie flinched at the noise, then turned toward Gwen but didn’t move. Her face was unreadable — no tears of relief, no rush into Gwen’s arms. Just… blank.

Izzy glanced toward Kiera, brow furrowed, but didn’t say anything.

Kiera stiffened slightly, then moved from Maggie’s side. She and Izzy both stood to give Gwen a hug, then cleared out of the way and ushered the kids toward the kitchen to give Gwen and Maggie some space.

Kiera tried not to eavesdrop as she passed out fruit snacks to twins Arlo and Jude and their little sister Rosie.

She needn’t worry about overhearing something. The silence coming from the living room was thick and uncomfortable. When she glanced toward the couch, she saw Gwen and Maggie sitting together on the couch. Maggie, however, pulled her cardigan tight like a shield, turning slightly away from Gwen.

Kiera’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She leaned into Izzy, wanting to feel the comfort and warmth of her. Instead of her usual scent of cherry and ginger, Izzy smelled simply of fresh laundry. Izzy’s gentle hug was a balm to her soul, an easy thing to hold onto in the darkness of the moment. “I just feel powerless to help her,” Kiera whispered.

Izzy chest hummed against Kiera’s ear as she spoke. “I know.”

“She’s justsosad,” Kiera murmured.

Izzy sighed, her voice softening. “I know.”

Later,after the house quieted and the kids were finally asleep, Kiera sat on the back patio with Izzy, sharing the silence between them. The night air was thick with the scent of jasmine. The Texas heat had relented, a slow breeze rustling the trees in the backyard, carrying the distant buzz of cicadas.

Kiera sighed, stretching her legs out in front of her, the wooden deck warm beneath her bare feet. She rolled a cold bottle of beer between her palms before taking a sip, the grapefruit and spice a welcome change from the herbal tea she’d been making Maggie all afternoon.

“I don’t get it,” she whispered, staring out into the night, her voice barely more than a breath. “Why is Maggie being so cold to Gwen?”

Izzy was curled up in the patio chair beside her, one knee pulled to her chest, the other foot tucked beneath her. She exhaled slowly before taking a drink of her own beer, tilting her head back slightly as she swallowed. The glow from the patio light caught the angles of her face, the shadow of her lashes against her cheekbones.

“When my dad died,” Izzy said, her voice quieter than usual, “I couldn’t handle being close to the people who should have made me feel better.”

---