Page 71 of Always Meant for You
“Of course, I did,” he answers, stone-faced. “This is Elverna. If somebody needs a hand, we lend a hand.”
Mabel reaches for the keys and passes them to Elias. “I guess that works.”
She doesn’t look at me right away. When she does, it’s brief. Careful. She puts on her hat, adjusting the brim as if it might shield her from whatever this night is turning into.
Elias guides Claudine toward the door.
“You two should swing by the quarry,” Sally offers, her tone light. “It’s always peaceful this time of night. And with a full moon, you’ll have plenty of light. I bet it’s been years since Mabel’s been out there.”
“What a lovely idea,” Margaret agrees.
Betty and Joel Martinez nod their approval.
Now we’re being encouraged to stop by the quarry?
I scan the room. These are the same people I’ve known most of my life. People who’ve rarely agreed on anything. But here they are, united in this strange, unanimous suggestion.
Before I can respond, Tobias Stewart claps me on the back. “Elias said you’re heading out to check for coyotes. I appreciate it. Damn things have been tearing through my hens. Lost two last week alone.”
“Happy to help, Mr. Stewart,” I say, keeping my voice steady. And I can’t deny a grateful Tobias beats a growling one any day.
Mr. Stewart turns to Mabel. “And you, young lady, I always wondered about you, walking around town in those strange outfits and high heels. Every time I saw you, I expected you to trip and break your ankle.”
“Oh,” Mabel replies, and I can’t blame her.
How is one supposed to reply to something like that?
“But it sounds like you know what you’re doing,” the man continues. “Don’t screw it up.”
She offers a quiet, “Thank you,” from beneath the brim of that hat.
He nods and moves on.
Mabel shifts beside me. “Should we go?”
There’s a tremor in her voice. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
My heart is hammering against my ribs.
This isn’t me.
I don’t get nervous. I don’t do second-guessing and overthinking.
Mabel changed that. One word from her and I seem to forget how to breathe.
I glance toward Margaret and Betty. “Do you need help locking up?”
Margaret doesn’t hesitate. “We’ve got it handled.”
“We’ll be heading out,” I say. My pulse pounds hard enough to drown out thought.
I gesture for Mabel to go ahead and hold the door open for her.
She steps past me, murmuring her goodbyes, then keeps her gaze low, hiding under her hat.
We’re both walking on uneven ground.
We cross the street to the lot.
