She played a tough game, but Bethany was Jell-O under that cracked exterior.
The Frolicking Moose lay in almost total silence while she dealt with the sale of the bike, chin held high and jaw firm. Lizbeth had retreated upstairs with an airy wave and a yawn after finishing another book. Ellie tromped around outside, talking to herself. Every now and then, she paused outside the office as if to see if I was still there. She still hadn’t said a word to me, but I couldn’t help feeling that she wanted me there. Just in case.
I stared at my spreadsheet, wondering.
Part of me couldn’t help but admire Bethany’s vulnerable tenacity. The girl wore her entire heart on her face. The other part of me regretted not buying the bike, hiding it, then giving it back when things smoothed out. I’d done it before. Bought my employee’s car right before he was going to lose it, then gave a low, interest-free loan until he got back on his feet. Did it for one of Father’s friends when he almost lost his house after his wife died from cancer.
But I had a feeling Bethany wouldn’t have taken it. Nor was it my job to save her.
Damn, but I wanted to.
Just as I updated my assistant on a few tasks for scouting out failing businesses in a small town in South Dakota, the front door opened. Seconds later, Bethany stepped behind the counter. Her fluttery summer dress shifted in the breeze. I shoved my computer in my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped into the coffee shop. Her eyes were red and puffy, but her face clear. Lipstick fresh. A quick cry on the way back, no doubt.
She stared at the cash register, eyes glittering.
“It’s done,” she announced. Her voice wavered. “I have some safety on the mortgage, at least.”
“You did a hard thing today.”
She met my gaze. For several long seconds, neither of us said a word. She didn’t duck away or try to hide her grief. She stood there. In it. Owning that monster with regal strength and grace. A monster I didn’t dare approach. Maybe the monster I was running from.
I’d never seen anyone so devastated and so lovely in the same breath. The tears in her eyes sparkled like sunshine on the lake.
I’d never done that.
Sometimes, I didn’t even think about it. Like Bethany, it haunted me too.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “And it’s like . . . like he’s gone all over again.”
In two steps, I had her in my arms. She tucked her head under my chin and released a tiny sob. Her hands gripped the back of my shirt in tight fists. She robbed my breath with her raw grief. When I put a hand on her head, stroking her hair, she calmed. My agitation settled with hers until I didn’t know who was comforting who.
She finally pulled away, a charming mixture of sheepish relief. “Thanks,” she whispered. She wiped at her tears with her fingers. “I, uh . . . it’s been a while since anyone has hugged me.”
I smiled and wished I could do far more than that. Unable to stop myself, I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. The tips of my fingers lingered on her jawline.
“You’re strength, Bethany. Strength.”
Before I could cross another line, and with the sound of my father’s voice ringing in my head, I turned away. Like a coward, I left before my heart slammed right out of my chest and told her everything I’d hidden away.