“Anyway,” Trisha went on, “the scholarship fund is to help girls who might not have the money to be a part of the rodeo team. It pays for their uniforms and transportation—things like that. Julie’s mom started it a couple of years after Julie died. When Mrs. Dunne moved away from Shelter Creek, I took over fundraising for it.” Trisha paused, a flush creeping across her pale cheeks. She looked so young, but she must be in her late twenties. “I’m sorry, Maya.” Her bright demeanor faded out. “Is this really weird that I’m talking to you?”
Maya rubbed her hand against the ache in her skull. These were the kinds of social situations she dreaded. She was so rusty at platitudes. To be polite, she should probably pretend everything was fine. But that was also kind of a lie. “It’s a little weird,” she admitted. The last time they’d seen each other, Maya had stood in the doorway of Trisha’s hospital room, flowers in one hand, the other in a sling to immobilize her broken shoulder.
“Maybe I was wrong to come over here,” Trisha said. “But then I thought it would be odd to spend the day so close to each other without talking. Plus I’ve owed you an apology for thirteen years.”
Maya’s heart dipped like a barn swallow in her chest. “I’m pretty sure it’s me who should apologize to you.”
“You tried to, that day you came to see me in the hospital. I wouldn’t listen.”
The memory replayed, as it had so many times, like a clip from a surreal movie. Two days after the accident, Maya, released from her own hospital room, had gone to see Trisha, hoping to offer an apology, to commiserate in their grief for Julie, to say something—anything—to try to ease the agony twisting in her heart.
Instead she’d been met with accusations, pointed fingers and screaming fury from Trisha’s parents. “Just tell the truth.” Trisha’s father had loomed over Maya, hands on his hips. “You were drinking that night, weren’t you?” And when Maya had just stared, stunned and scared, he threw up his hands. “Of course you were. And we’ll make sure the police know it.”
Maya’s blood had been tested at the hospital right after the accident. The results were proof that she’d been completely sober, and Trisha’s father knew it. But those two words, of course, knocked the wind out of Maya’s response. They both knew what he meant. Of course you were drinking, because your parents are addicts and criminals. It runs in your family. Bad blood.
But Maya hadn’t had much time to process the insult.
“Don’t you realize?” Trisha’s mom had screamed, jabbing a finger toward Maya’s chest. “She may lose her leg, Maya! And that’s on you. That’s on your shoulders.”
Maya understood their grief; she’d been drowning in her own. But she hadn’t been prepared for their fury, or the stony silence from Trisha. But when Maya sent her a pleading glance, wanting her to speak up, Trisha had turned her face to the wall.
Maya had dropped the flowers and fled.
Trisha took a step closer, her green eyes welling up. “I’m so sorry, Maya. For that day in the hospital. For the way my parents behaved. And the way I lay there like a coward and said nothing.”
Maya nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She’d spent so many years trying to lock her emotions away so they wouldn’t overwhelm her. Trisha’s apology was a crowbar cracking the seal on the door. “It’s okay,” Maya managed. “We were so young.”
“I was terrified of getting into more trouble. All they knew was that I was drinking that night. I didn’t want to tell them anything else. So I stayed silent and let you take the blame.”
Maya stared. “Trisha, what would you be blamed for? You were just a kid catching a ride home from a concert.”
Trisha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were suddenly cold on this hot afternoon. “Don’t you see? The entire thing was my fault. There was this guy, an older college boy, who I had a crush on. When he asked me to the concert, I lied about my age. Then I talked Julie into going with me.”
Trisha’s voice was shaky, and she swiped at her eyes, but she kept talking. “If I hadn’t been stupid over that boy, if I hadn’t talked Julie into drinking—she’d never even had a drink before. Did you know that? Julie was such a goody-goody. I think maybe that’s why the alcohol hit her so hard.”
Words formed and disappeared in Maya’s mind. Finally a few surfaced and stayed. “You think you were responsible? For the accident?”
Trisha buried her face in her hands. Her “yes” came out teary and muffled.
“No!” Trisha’s distress pulled Maya out of her own. “No. Maybe you made a mistake in meeting those boys, but you called for help, which was exactly what you should have done under the circumstances. I was the driver. It was my job to get you home in one piece.”
“But when Julie climbed into the front seat, when she fell...there was no way you could keep us safe. Julie was tall. Strong. You’re...” Trisha looked up, and paused, as if worried about being rude. “You’re petite. I tried to help. I tried to pull her away from you, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough, and she was so floppy and out of control.”
It was just a tiny piece of information, but Maya felt it hit, land and then slowly sink into her mind. A cool, still piece of reprieve. “You...you couldn’t move her?”
“No.” Trisha’s voice calmed a little. “I couldn’t. And that’s what makes what I did to you in the hospital even more wrong. I should have told anyone who would listen exactly what had happened. What Julie did and how it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have pushed her off, couldn’t have kept control of the car...”
“I was still the driver. It is still my fault.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Trisha said. “And that is what I should have said to my parents that day.”
At a loss, Maya repeated something a therapist had told her once. “You did the best you could at the time.”
Trisha let out a shaky breath. “I guess so. But my best wasn’t very impressive.”
It was hard to think straight. For so many years Maya had wondered if she’d just been stronger, more aggressive, maybe she could have shoved Julie away. But Trisha, even then, had been taller than Maya, and she hadn’t been able to get Julie to move either.
“It helps, Trisha, to know what happened. Thank you for telling me.”
“I wanted to tell you the other day, when you were at the vet with your dog. But I lost my nerve.”
“You work at the vet? I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m an assistant, so I work in the back, mainly. But I heard that you were the one who’d found that sweet three-legged dog. How is Einstein doing?”
Maya smiled her gratitude that they were moving on to happier topics. “He’s great. He has my grandmother wrapped around his paw. I swear she brings him a new toy almost every day.”
Trisha laughed, and that too felt like a relief. “He deserves it, poor guy. He seems like he’s had a tough life.” She glanced at Maya’s unpacked bags. “Can I help you get ready?”
Maya shook her head, her response automatic. “That’s okay. I’m fine on my own.”
“Oh okay.” Trisha flushed, shy again. “Thank you for listening to my apology.”
“Of course.”
This was awkward. Emotion about the accident never came in small amounts. Talking about it was like trying to maintain some kind of normalcy while holding back a tsunami.
And when the talking was done, people expected closure. They wanted a “have a nice day,” or an easy transition back to small talk. Which was just about impossible when your heart was brimming with endless longing for a different path through life. A path where Julie was still alive, Trisha was unharmed, and she and Caleb had stayed together.
Without that path, closure wasn’t really possible. Living with a death on your hands was living with an open wound. And no one wanted to look at that.
“There she is!”
They both turned toward
the voice and Maya was grateful for the interruption.
Grandma Lillian was bustling toward them, with a big grocery bag from Shelter Creek Market in her arms. “And Trisha, you’re here too! What a lovely surprise.” She glanced from one to the other and Maya could see the concern behind her cheerful demeanor. “Are you two doing okay?”
“We are,” Maya reassured her.
“Well, good. Now, Maya, I’ve brought some snacks in case we get hungry.” Grandma plunked the bag down in the grass.
“We?”
Grandma didn’t answer; instead she waved vigorously to someone she’d spotted across the field. That someone waved back. Whoever she was, she wore the biggest straw hat Maya had ever seen. Not a cowboy hat. The kind of hat with a brim that extended in an enormous circle. A hat you’d see in a magazine, by a fancy swimming pool, on the coiffed head of gracefully lounging woman.
Grandma waved to the big-hat woman again. “Here we are, Monique!”
Monique tottered toward them in high wedge sandals. She wore black cotton capris and a red-checked blouse tied at her waist. “There you are, Lillian. And Maya! I’m glad I found you.”
What was Monique doing here? Maya glanced at Grandma suspiciously. Her smile was completely bland, which meant she was definitely up to something.
“There you all are!” Annie strode up in her usual faded jeans and cowboy hat. “Oh hi, Trisha.”
Annie was here too? “Grandma...” Maya started to say, but Annie interrupted.
“I almost forgot this, Lillian. Had to go back for it.” She tossed a folded green tablecloth onto Maya’s plastic table.
“Oh good, I found you!”
They all turned to see Kathy stumping toward them across the rough grass in a bright yellow tracksuit.
“I was worried you wouldn’t get here on time,” Grandma said.
“Traffic was terrible and parking is worse.” Kathy gestured to the crowded booths around them. “I think our little rodeo has been discovered by tourists.”
Annie nodded. “At least we still have a rodeo. So many places have let theirs go.”
Maya stared from one Book Biddy to another, trying to figure out what they were all doing here. Finally she leaned down to help Grandma smooth the cloth across the table and whispered, “Grandma, what is going on? What are you up to?”
“Helping,” Grandma whispered back with a wink. “There.” She gave the cloth one last gentle shake and stepped back. “Now that looks official.”
“Good thing we have you, Lillian, to think of this kind of stuff.” Annie surveyed the table appreciatively. “I would have shown up just like you, Maya. Plastic table, a few fliers, the bare bones.”
“That’s why you have friends like us.” Monique reached into her vast purse, pulled out a mason jar and plunked it in the center of the table. Next she brought out a small bouquet of daisies, wrapped in paper. She unwrapped the daisies, popped them in the jar, then filled it from a water bottle she’d brought along. “There.” She looked up at her silent audience. “What? We said we were going to pretty up her display.”
“Your purse is like one of those clown cars,” Annie said.
“They’re lovely,” Maya added quickly. “It’s just not something I would ever have thought of, but it looks great!” It was so sweet, really, Annie’s green tablecloth, these flowers... It looked like they were all going to sit down and have a nice picnic.
“Now, doesn’t this look lovely?” Mrs. Axel came bustling up, carrying a tote bag with something brown sticking out the top. It looked like a...stuffed animal?
“Hi, Mrs. Axel.” This was beyond sweet. The Biddies had promised moral support, and here they were, true to their word.
“I hope I’m not too late! I brought the photos!”
Maya turned to see Eva, dressed in black leggings and some kind of wearable art tunic made from different pieces of brightly colored fabric. She pulled out three photographs, framed in black-and-white, and set them on the table. “Here you go, Maya. And nice to see you, by the way.”
“Nice to see you too.” Maya suddenly recognized the pictures. “I took these!” She stared, a sense of wonder almost overwhelming her. Eva had made her photos look professional, with white mats and simple black frames.
Maya glanced at Grandma. “You gave her my photos?” She’d taken this one on her second day here, in the early morning, when she’d finally gotten close enough to catch the mountain lion she’d tracked in the long lens of her camera. The puma had draped himself on the lower branch of an oak tree, and in this photo, he was leisurely licking one of his paws.
“The wonders of email.” Grandma looked proud, like she’d invented the internet herself. “You sent them to me, and I forwarded them to Eva. And no, Maya, I’m not apologizing. They’re gorgeous and the world should see them.”
It was an overstatement, but Maya couldn’t argue with Grandma. Not when she was trying so hard to help.
Kathy pointed to another photo, of the puma sprawled asleep on an oak branch. “He’s pretty adorable.” She turned to the group, bringing her hands together in a brisk clap. “So, I think we’re all here now.”
“We?” Maya put her hands on her hips and looked at the six women assembled around her information table. “Is someone going to explain to me what is going on? And why does Mrs. Axel—I mean Priscilla—have a stuffed animal?”
Mrs. Axel pulled the creature from her bag. “It’s a mountain lion. Her name is Uma. Uma the Puma. I found her in a nature shop in San Francisco, when I was there visiting my niece yesterday. Isn’t she adorable? I figured people should be reminded that mountain lions aren’t just these big scary predators. They’re beautiful. And this one is cuddly too. Go on, give her a squeeze.”
This wasn’t exactly what Maya had planned for her table here at the rodeo. She’d thought to keep things professional. Scientific. So that ranchers would listen to her ideas and take them seriously.
Maya glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and then gave Uma a small squeeze. The lion was soft and squishy, and she resisted the urge to pull the stuffy in for a bigger cuddle.
Instead she set Uma on the table. It did look cute there. Maybe The Biddies were right. Uma and the photos could be a reminder of all the things people liked about mountain lions.
But Maya also couldn’t see herself trying to talk seriously about wildlife management with The Book Biddies clustered around, chiming in at odd moments.
“I really appreciate your support,” she told them. “But don’t you all want to go watch the rodeo?”
“Seen it a million times,” Annie said, waving her hand toward the arena dismissively. “Though I’ll make sure to watch the barrel racing. See how the young ones are doing.”
“Annie was quite a barrel racer in her day,” Grandma Lillian told the group.
“Well, I might take a look at a few of these cowboys,” Monique said, casting an appraising eye at a handsome, middle-aged guy headed for the arena. “But mostly, today we have a higher purpose.”
“And what exactly is that?” Maya tried to keep the trepidation out of her voice. It was hard to know what would happen next when it came to The Biddies.
Monique reached into her never-ending purse and pulled out something bright blue, which she shook out with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
It was a T-shirt. And written across the chest, in big white cursive letters, were the words Cougars for Cougars. Maya stared, caught somewhere between laughter and shock. They really were serious about helping her. Except they weren’t serious; they were totally, ridiculously silly.
“They came out great!” Mrs. Axel reached eagerly for the shirt. “Did you get extra large?”
“Of course,” Monique assured her.
“Cougars for Cougars.” Annie’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Monique, this is not the slogan we discussed.”
“Oh come on now, Annie. It’s much more catchy than Biddies for Big Cats. Or Readers for Predators. Or whatever it was you suggested.”
“Well, I’m not sure I want to be viewed as some kind of cougar.” Annie folded her arms across her chest with a huff that really did make her look like an indignant biddy. “We’re not all here to drool over the young cowboys.”
“Are you sure?” Monique dropped her fake eyelashes in a lascivious wink. “Give it a try. You might like it.”
“I like it,” Kathy chimed in. “The slogan, I mean. It’s funny. And if we make people laugh, maybe they’ll be more likely to listen to us when we talk to them about Maya’s work.”
It really was a great name. But Maya wasn’t sure the Cougars for Cougars were the wildlife ambassadors she needed. When she’d decided to take this job, she’d envisioned herself impressing the citizens of her hometown with her scientific knowledge and her professionalism. Maybe it was shallow, but she wanted them to see that she’d done well, that she wasn’t like her parents, or the wild teenager they’d all assumed her to be when she’d crashed the car.
Plus was it really okay for Maya to be silly, to use a funny name on a T-shirt and a goofy stuffed puma when Julie Dunne’s scholarship booth was just down the way? Maya glanced at Trisha, but she seemed oblivious to any worries. She’d just accepted a T-shirt from Monique and was tugging it over her head.
“You all can’t spend your entire day helping me. You should go enjoy the rodeo.”
“Oh don’t worry. We’ll enjoy it,” Grandma said. She rummaged through one of Maya’s tote bags and pulled out a stack of fliers. “Living with Mountain Lions,” she read. “These will be perfect. We’ll hand some out for you. And we can direct people to your table, if they have any questions.”
There was clearly no use arguing with their plans, and deep down Maya didn’t really want to. It was love and support for her in action, it was The Biddies having her back, and that was too precious to squash. “Okay, put on your T-shirts, ladies. I want to get a photo of this.”
Monique handed out the shirts, and The Biddies pulled them on over their clothing. Trisha glanced shyly at Maya. “I have other volunteers taking over Julie’s booth for the next couple of hours. Handing out fliers will be fun.”
Reunited with the Cowboy Page 10