Stupid Girl(89)

By the time I hit the city limits, my tear duct system had replenished.

I cried all the way to Jasper.





When my headlights fell on the familiar graveled driveway of our small ranch, my gut twisted inside, and a homesickness I hadn’t been aware of made my heart even heavier. It hadn’t been two full months away from home, yet it felt like years. The yard lamp cast a faded yellow arc over the porch swing, where Mom sat, swaying gently back and forth. She rose and started down the steps as I climbed out of the cab, where she met and enveloped me in a tight embrace. She smelled of her favorite honeysuckle shampoo and leather, and the familiarity of it washed over me. I squeezed her tightly, and my tears fell on her shoulder.

“Oh, baby,” she said into my hair. Grasping my face in her hands, she studied me with concern edging her soft brown eyes. “What in the world’s happened?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s a long story.”

A wise smile touched her mouth. “I’ve already got a pot of coffee on and ready, darlin’.”

Shouldering my scope bag, Mom picked up my pack and we set them inside the front door. Grabbing two cups, she made our coffee, blond and sweet, she’d always called it, and we sat together on the porch swing. At two thirty in the morning, only the creak of the chain, the wind rustling through the cottonwood trees and the chirping of crickets broke the air as I told her all about Brax Jenkins. Sadie Beaumont listened quietly, with no interruptions; a solid presence, a strong shoulder. God, how I needed all of it, and it released a flood of emotions I’d been fighting so hard to keep penned up.

“I opened up to him,” I said, so quiet that it barely rose above a whisper. With the toe of my boot I gave the swing a push. “He was so fiercely protective, so furious toward Kelsy.” I shook my head and looked at my mother. “His eyes hold everything, Mom. When he looks at me, it’s like he sees way deeper than just the surface. It’s like he sees what I’m really thinking, really feeling. It doesn’t make sense inside of my head, or my heart, for him to break it off like this.” I stared between my feet, at the worn wooden planks of the porch. “Especially after last night. I told him everything about what happened that summer with Kelsy. And then we,” I stopped my words, and tears filled my eyes again. I pushed my hands against my heart. Briefly, I remembered the ring that no longer sat on my finger. “You know it actually hurts here, Mom. Like real pain.” I squeezed my eyes tight, pushing out the tears. “I tried not to like him. I tried so hard.” With the back of my hand I dried my eyes. “I fell in love with him, Mom.” I shook my head, picking at the hole tearing through the knee of my jeans. “Can you believe I was such a stupid girl? I can’t believe I left for college and immediately became so involved with a guy.” I met Mom’s gaze and gave another half-hearted laugh, then exhaled. “Sure wasn’t planned.”

My mom pulled me to her shoulder, kissed the top of my head. “Well honey, it never is.” She looked at me, wiped a tear with her forefinger. “But I will say this. For Brax to break things off, and especially after all of that,” she said. “Either the boy’s got a frigid heart and such deep-seeded problems you never want to get involved with—trust me. Or, there’s something going on here that you’re not seeing. Boys do stupid things, I know that.” She turned my face to hers. “And right now I’d like nothing more than to punch him right in the eye.” She let out a long, tired sigh and gave the swing another push. “But one thing we Beaumonts have always known. Only the good Lord looks out for us. Him,” she patted my knee. “And each other. I know it hurts, sweetie. I’ve known that hurt before and it’s nothing but a sonofabitch.” She turned sideways in the swing. “But you worked hard to get where you are right now. You’re the strongest person I know.” Her eyes grew glassy in the sallow light of the yard lamp. “You can’t let Brax or Kelsy or anyone else ever take it away from you, Olivia Grace. And I’m not talking about just your scholarship.” She pressed her hand against my chest. “I’m talking about what’s in here, baby. Your ferocious lion.” She cupped my face. “You go ahead and grab its tail, give it a hard yank.” She smiled. “Piss it off. Then you kick a path through all the crap, hold your pretty head high and proud, and shove your way through the muck. That’s how you survive this. Trust me, darlin’. I know.”

I studied my mom’s features; each fine line that fanned out from her soft brown eyes, the high cheek bones, her strong, determined jaw, and the arched brows that made her face so expressive. She’d suffered plenty in her life; our dad had left her high and dry with three kids and a barely-surviving horse ranch. He’d broken her heart; not her spirit. And knowing all that, seeing the kind of strong woman she’d turned out to be? It lifted me. Lifted my spirits. Gave me strength.