Maybe Grady would’ve said more, but Maren didn’t hang around to find out.
When Josie unexpectedly pulled up in their father’s old truck, her surprised eyes locking with Maren’s through the dusty windshield, all of their sibling disagreements and differences withered away. The language of heartbreak was universal and Josie interpreted Maren’s loud and clear.
Josie opened the truck door and walked up to her older sister. Wordlessly, she stretched out her hand. Maren took it and then joined her in the cab of the vehicle. As the truck rolled in reverse, Maren closed her eyes, and only when she knew she would have a different view did she open them again.
12
Grady
It took more than soap and water to wash one’s hands of guilt.
That was the strange thing. The mistakes of a man didn’t only affect him. Guilt was like a flat stone tossed into a pond, the ripples curling outward in circles of influence. Hardly anyone was immune.
Grady knew that was the case here. He wasn’t naïve.
What he hadn’t factored in was that one past mistake still had the power to change everything now. It somehow put a different lens on the past—altering the way he remembered life, interactions, relationships.
When he’d seen Maren outside the diner, her sheet of auburn hair draped over her shoulders like a shield, Grady instantly flashed back to her father. He saw the aftermath. This was the outcome. This was the consequence of those actions that didn’t just disappear when her father did.
Death wasn’t an ending when it came to those left behind.
Grady scolded himself the moment he looked out that diner window and glimpsed her dropping to the pavement in a collapsed bundle of tears.
Cutter, you will not go out there. Leave her be.
It didn’t work. Nothing could keep his boots planted when it came to that woman. There could’ve been a grease fire in the kitchen and he still would’ve run out to check on Maren first.
Some things in life came so naturally the only explanation was that they were innate. Grady was made to protect Maren, whether it was wise to or not. But the heart wasn’t wise. It was a stupid, stupid muscle that didn’t let the brain choose who it was going to beat for.
When Grady flung open that door, the bell dinging noisily above his head, time snapped back three weeks with one blink. He tried to look down at her, but her heap morphed into a memory. Underneath her was dirt instead of concrete. The brick wall keeping her upright rather than prone on the sidewalk was the trunk of that old oak at the perimeter of the ranch, just beyond the fence that promised safety and security.
She had become her father, and with one look, Grady knew he’d do just about as good a job saving her as he did him.
Still, he had to try.
When Kiley saw Grady sitting on the ground outside the restaurant an hour later while on her break, she didn’t seem surprised to find him there. No matter how he tried to hide it—tried to stuff it down and out of sight—Kiley knew Maren had a grip on Grady and always would.
“Did she leave with that fancy guy?”
Grady laughed. Kiley didn’t intentionally try to be funny, but Grady found himself chuckling at the things she said most of the time. She had a quirky way about her that he’d come to find endearing over their many years of friendship. “No. She left with her sister.”
When it appeared she was readying to sit, her hand pressed into her arched back, Grady shot up to his feet. He’d figured she’d ventured out here to check on him rather than take her lunch break in the back where he knew Betty Bockin’s would allow her to eat all of the greasy foods her heart desired. Pregnant women got free passes like that. But even with the plump belly, Kiley had maintained her figure. She was beautiful and Grady supposed he was lucky that she entertained the attention he’d been giving her lately. He hadn’t always been so attentive.
“When are we going to tell her?” Kiley pressed her backside against the wall, her arms folding over her chest, apron bunching. The look she gave was one a mother would give her child to draw the answer out with a pinned stare. Even though that baby was still over a month off from making its debut, she was practicing up on her mothering skills and doing a bang-up job, at that.
“We’re not telling her.”
“Grady Cutter!” He felt her words at the nape of his neck and he drew his shoulders up in a shrug. “You have to tell that woman the truth!”
“I can’t, Kiley.” The breath pulled in through his nose stung. He angled his face skyward, the brim of his hat doing no good to shade him. “I can’t lie to her and telling her the truth isn’t an option.”
“So what are we going to do then?” Kiley stomped one foot. Grady had never had a woman stomp at him before. “Just let her believe whatever the heck she wants to believe? Tell me how that’s fair. To anyone.”
“It’s not fair.” Grady could admit that much. “But I don’t know what else to do.”
If Kiley had a better idea, she didn’t tell him. “Cutter, only you and me and my mama—God rest her soul—know the truth, and that’s more weight that I want to bear.” She laid a hand on her stomach. “No pun intended.”
He laughed a little at that. “I know. You know this isn’t the situation I had planned, either.” Empathy fell across Kiley’s face. “I wish I knew how to tell her. I really do.”
“You’ve never been able to tell that woman a thing. You’ve been in love with her since you learned to tie your shoes and I doubt she has any clue. If Walt hadn’t always been there as a barricade between you and Maren, she would’ve known years ago. But he’s not here now. And he’s not coming back.”
Grady grimaced. It was uncomfortable to talk with Kiley like this. She was stronger than he’d ever given her credit for, which made shame snake through Grady’s gut because he didn’t want her to have to be the strong one in this. That was his job.
Finding some sort of resolve within herself, Kiley placed her hands on Grady’s shoulders and gripped with firm fingers. Her stomach brushed against his, and without being aware that he was doing it, he drew her into his arms and hugged her tightly to his chest. She sighed against his cheek, her entire frame slumping.
“I’m not going to tell her, Cutter. Promise I won’t. But I won’t be upset if you someday decide it’s a truth worth telling.”
Not much could wake Grady up.
It wasn’t that he was a sound sleeper and could block out noises. He just got up so early that there wasn’t much chance for anything to wake any earlier.
On most days, he even beat the rooster’s crow.
Grady figured she knew that when she caught him still slumbering at 6:00 a.m., her knock on the door the alarm that shot him out of bed, scurrying to find a pair of pants and shirt he could hastily throw on. He’d put money on it that her husband had been exactly the same, rising well before day broke over the foothills of the acres he’d work until sundown.
Even still, Grady was alarmed to see her standing on his porch, her dark hair pulled to the side in a long, loose braid and her hands running up and down her arms. Her shirt was teal and pink plaid, rolled at the sleeves, and a silver cross necklace dangled at her collarbone.