her pregnancy. Or maybe the young widow had been in denial. Her husband, a county deputy, had been killed in the line of duty. Only after his death did Josie learn that she was pregnant.
The two of them, Josie and Macy, had bonded immediately. They were both grieving, both trying to figure out the next step in their lives.
“Are you busy?” Josie asked as she stepped into the room and lowered herself into a chair. She was petite and even now seemed to be all belly.
“No, not really. I’m writing a new grant for a playground. But I have to decide how to word it. I’m trying to have faith that we’ll get the Culpepper place. That changes things a bit.”
“I guess that would complicate the grant process.”
“Yes, a bit.” Macy slid the grant paperwork into the filing cabinet and locked the drawer. “How are you feeling?”
Josie shrugged, but she briefly looked away and dashed a finger under her eye. A sign she wasn’t as great as the chipper smile she always managed to show the world might indicate.
“I’m good.” She sighed, and her hand went to her belly. “Good, meaning I’m waking up each morning. I’m moving forward, even though sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand.”
“Josie, I’m so sorry.” Macy reached for Josie’s hand and gave her fingers a light squeeze. “If you need anything...”
The smile reappeared. “I know. And the same goes for you. We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Neither of us planned parenthood this way. How’s Colby doing?”
“I’m not sure. When I see him here, he seems fine. But when I tried to take him home, he was lost and then angry.”
“He has been through so much for someone so young. Give him time.”
“It’s been a year, Josie. What if he needs more than I can give him?”
“What do you mean?”
Macy closed her eyes just briefly. What did she mean? How could she put these thoughts into words? “I worry that I’m not the right person to raise him. Would he be better if there was someone else, and I just went away?”
Josie leaned forward and placed a hand on her arm. “Oh, Macy, don’t. He needs you. He might be pushing you away, but in time he’ll let you in.”
“I hope so. And if that isn’t the case, I hope God will show me what our next step is.”
“Colby was always a good little guy.” Josie sat for a long moment, looking out the window of the tiny office Macy used. “Maybe there’s something else, something more. Does he say anything in therapy or their group sessions?”
“Not really. They’ve had a hard time getting him to open up about that night. I understand. Sometimes I’d like to brush it under the rug and pretend it didn’t happen. But he’s been stuck in the ‘anger’ stage of grief for so long. I just worry we won’t get him to acceptance.”
“And on top of that worry, now we have Cyrus’s will to contend with. I don’t know why his lawyer didn’t try to talk him out of it.”
“Do you think he could have talked him out of it?” Macy asked, already knowing the answer.
“Not a bit. And now I have to run. I’m helping Abby and John Garrett with the boys in their cabin. We’re having a cookout and game night. But Bo Harrington is attending, and his son, Christopher, is already a pill without his parents there to make it worse.”
Macy knew a little backstory, that Christopher Harrington was sixteen and spoiled. The state juvenile office had placed him at the ranch, and his parents were still determined to get him out.
“Have fun. I heard he waxed the windows of Abby’s car. And he’s pulled a couple of the other boys into his antics.”
Josie groaned as she stood. “He’s rotten. I think he has potential if his parents will learn to allow him to suffer consequences. See you later. And let me know how it goes with the meeting and the big hunt.”
“Of course I will.” She smiled and waved to her friend. She had thirty minutes to work in the library. She wanted to start organizing things for the move. With the goal of moving at the end of the month, Bea was in overdrive, trying to get everyone and everything organized.
The library would be one of the easiest rooms to pack. It was fairly new and already somewhat in order. The rest of the ranch, she shuddered to think of that process. Decades of accumulation and living and only a month to box it all up.
As she wandered about the lovely old room with the high ceilings and dark stained woodwork, she heard footsteps in the hall. Light footsteps. Not the heavy booted footsteps of one of the hands or the soft swish of Bea’s sensible shoes.
She turned and caught sight of a slip of a boy, his dark hair mussed and his sneakers scuffing back and forth on the wood floor, as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome. She knelt and held out her arms.
Colby ran into her embrace.
“Hey, sweet guy, what’s up?” She wrapped her arms around him, wishing she could take away all of his pain, all of his anger. She would. She’d do it in a heartbeat because she knew she could process it, figure it out and move on. She had been moving on for the past year. Losing her brother, Grant. Losing her fiancé, her job.
But gaining Colby.
If only she could find a way to help him move on.
He shuddered in her arms, and his hand raised to swipe at tears rolling down his cheeks, dampening her sleeve. She tried to pull him back against her, but he stiffened, unwilling to have the embrace a second longer.
“Are you okay?” She stayed on her knees, her hands on his arms.
He nodded, but his green eyes swam with tears he was fighting to hold back. She bit down on her lip, trying to think of the right words. A mom should know what to say. A mom would know how to help him. She closed her eyes and admitted her failings in this area.
“Colby, I want to help you. I want to make it all better. If you could just tell me.”
He shook his head, but he stepped a little closer.
“I love you,” she whispered close to his ear. She brushed a kiss across his head, and he didn’t move away.
“I love you, Aunt Macy.” With those words her heart grabbed hold of hope.
“Did you sneak away from the cabin?”
He nodded and again swiped at tears that threatened to fall.
“Did someone upset you or hurt you?” Stupid question. Of course he was upset and hurt. But was this a new hurt or lingering pain?
It was like trying to put together a puzzle, but without all of the pieces. How she wanted all of the pieces! She wanted him whole. Sometimes she saw glimpses of the Colby she’d known before the accident. But the glimpses were fleeting.
He sat down on the floor in front of her, and she took that as an invitation and sat next to him.
What would a mom do? She desperately wanted to think like a mom, be a mom. She scooted close, but she didn’t put her arms around him. She waited, knowing he needed time.
“Diego called me a big baby.”
Diego, not much older than Colby. But with a different story and different baggage to work through.
“He’s wrong,” she told her nephew. “You’re tough. Really tough.”
“Ben took up for me. He told Diego to be nice, but Diego said that I’m not nice to you.”
“You are nice to me.” She covered his hand with hers. “We’re going to make it through this.”
“Because we’re family now. That’s what Eleanor says.”
Eleanor