by Jove Belle
An abortion. That was as hard for Sam to think about as Beth being pregnant. Her daughter had been careless with a grown-up decision and was now faced with an even more difficult choice. And, ultimately, Sam shared responsibility, too. If she had been more present, if she had taken more time to really talk to her, and to provide the guidance Beth needed, she might not be in this situation. Sam ached for her daughter’s future, and a large part of her hoped Beth would let Sam make her an appointment at the clinic.
But what if Beth wanted to keep it? Then what? Sam wasn’t prepared to be a grandmother. Or was she? Did it even matter? Shit. This was on her, too, and ultimately, she would support Beth with whatever she decided to do.
Then, because she suddenly had this potential grandchild to worry about, Sam searched online for prenatal care. She found an obstetrician in town who had kind eyes. An online profile wasn’t enough to tell if she would judge Beth—and by extension, Sam—or not, but Sam stared at those eyes and tried to divine if this woman would take care of Beth.
She looked up prenatal vitamins and added fifteen different brands to her shopping cart on Amazon.com before she gave up and decided to let the doctor tell her what kind to get. If Beth decided to keep the baby.
At one point, she reviewed their insurance policy. The cost of her COBRA benefits had been enough to make her seriously consider not taking the option. Now, she was overwhelmed with relief that she’d filled out the paperwork. People had babies without insurance. It happened, but she couldn’t imagine the mountain of paperwork and debt collection notices that went along with that kind of expense. Her policy covered all prenatal care but considerably less after the baby was born.
Eventually, the sun came up, and Beth slept on. Sam moved to the kitchen. Coffee would help clear her mind. Hopefully.
As she waited for the machine to stop dripping, Karen came in via the lobby.
“Morning.” Karen greeted her with a smile, a container of fresh fruit, and a brown paper bag from the bakery.
Sam took the bag and looked inside. Croissants. Karen definitely knew the way to Sam’s heart. If buttery, flakey, French bread didn’t seduce someone, clearly that person was already dead. She took one out, ready to stuff it in her mouth as she usually would, and realized that her stomach was strung through with tight knots. Eating, even something she loved, was out of the question.
She dropped the croissant back into the bag. “I need to wake up before I eat anything.” She tried to smile, but somewhere between being happy to see Karen and drowning in the events of the past few hours, the message got crossed and her smile came out more as a pained grimace.
Karen’s expression clouded. “Glad you’re awake. I worried I was too early.”
The coffee maker finished, and Sam grabbed a second mug from the hooks that lined the underside of the cabinet. It gave her a good excuse not to look at Karen for a few moments while she calculated her possible responses.
As she poured, Sam said, “Nope, I’ve been up for a while.”
“Everything okay?”
Karen was an old friend who knew Sam better than most. If she couldn’t confide in her, who could she? Still, her brain was too rattled, too sleep-deprived, and too shell-shocked to fully comprehend the meaning of Beth’s announcement. She was not ready to say the words “Beth’s pregnant” aloud. Saying it would add a level of reality to the situation that she couldn’t handle just yet. As it was, she felt like there was still the possibility that she’d misheard. Or misunderstood. Or maybe Beth was joking or saying stupid things because she was drunk.
“Yes, of course.” Sam forced herself to smile. “So, what’s up with you this morning?” She hadn’t seen much of Karen this week, so her arrival was unexpected.
“I wanted to see you.” Karen moved closer. Close enough to touch. “We haven’t talked about your date with Alan. How’d it go?”
“It was okay,” Sam answered, carefully. “We had dinner and then took a nice walk through downtown. It was—” Sam struggled for the right word to describe the evening. In the end, she settled for a repeat of “nice.”
“Nice? Why doesn’t that sound like a good thing?”
Sam looked up at her, expecting warmth and comfort and mild excitement to fill her as it had the last time she’d been this close to Karen. She got two out of the three— warmth and comfort. No thrill of anticipation. She took a sip of her coffee before popping open the plastic clamshell container full of fruit.
“It was fine.” She selected a piece of melon and ate it without elaborating on her answer.
“Come on, Sam, give me something here. Will you see him again?”
“I doubt it.”
Alan was nice enough, in a milquetoast kind of way. He was kind and friendly and not terrible to look at. He was sturdy and staid and the kind of man most women wanted to marry. All of that stability and good intentions did nothing for her, though. No sparks with him. Not even remotely.
“I’m going to interpret that as a no, then,” Karen said, tone flat. She grabbed a croissant and dunked it in her coffee. “That’s okay, though. Nothing says you two have to fall in love and get married or anything.”
Sam choked on her coffee. When she finally stopped coughing, she said, “Is that what you thought would happen?”
“No. I mean, Alan is a great guy. Women fall for him all the time, so it might have occurred to me as a possibility.” Karen’s cheeks turned pink, and she stuffed her croissant in her mouth.
This was an interesting turn. Karen had encouraged the date, but now it seemed that she hadn’t been as supportive of them getting together as she presented herself to be.
“And that possibility bothered you.” Sam tried not to smile, but amusement bloomed in her chest. Karen was jealous. Which was sort of funny, but maybe not after all. Another complication.
“No,” Karen said vehemently as she sprayed crumbs across the counter. Between the two of them, breakfast was going to end with Sam wiping down the cabinets and sweeping the floor.
“Are you sure?”
“Maybe,” Karen mumbled, her head turned away.
“What was that?” Sam had heard her fine, but she couldn’t help but push for more. In that moment, Karen was adorable, like a thirteen-year-old boy who didn’t know what to do with his first crush.
Karen looked her in the eye and said, “Maybe. I didn’t expect to care, but it bothers me, okay?”
Sam placed her hand over Karen’s. “Yeah, it’s totally okay.”
“So, are you going to see him again?” Karen asked, a hopeful smile teasing at the edges of her lips.
“No.” Sam shook her head, letting her own smile take over.
“Good.” Karen palmed the side of Sam’s face and worked her fingers into the hair at the base of her neck. With a soft caress of her thumb over Sam’s cheek, she dipped her head and gently kissed her on the mouth. When the kiss ended, Karen eased back slightly and rested her forehead against Sam’s. “Okay?”
Sam nodded and surged forward into another kiss. She wasn’t in love with Karen, and the look in her eyes meant they needed to have a serious conversation about what they were doing, but in that moment, Karen provided exactly the distraction she needed. This, she understood. It made sense, unlike the messy tension building between her and Olly. And rather than obsessing about Beth and pregnancy and what the hell they were going to do, she let herself simply enjoy what Karen had to offer.
∞
Waking up in the barn was life-affirming for Olly, especially after last night. As the sun rose, the loft filled with light, along with the small sounds of animals on the rise and the scent of fresh morning air. It was, hands down, the best alarm clock she’d ever had.
The worst, by far, was her phone. She was glad, however, that she was in the habit of leaving the ringer on and turned up. If not, she might have missed Beth’s call for help. That kid had been messed up, too altered to focus on anything and talking without any kind of filter. She was going to ha
ve a banging headache this morning. And a major fight with Sam.
Rampart stood and stretched before making his way to Olly. She slept crossways in her hammock, with one of her feet dangling over the edge. He licked her leg and barked a happy good morning.
“Ready to get started, Ramp?”
She got to her feet and scooped him up into one arm as she made her way over to the ladder. Carrying him up and down would probably seem silly to some people, but she loved Rampart way more than she cared about what those people would say. Hopefully, she’d be able to finish the stairs, if not today, at least by the end of the week.
When they made it to the ground, she propped open the door, and Rampart rushed outside, a happy dog smile stretched across his face, which made her laugh.
She paused on her way to the restroom to evaluate the work she’d done the previous evening on the stairs. As much as she wanted to finish them, she also wanted to make the forty-five-minute drive to Missoula to check out the hotel she’d seen on her way into town. And if she stopped by the Queen to check in on Beth and Sam, that would be okay, too. Of course, she was operating on the assumption that she was still working for Sam after what happened. For now, she’d go with that.
As a compromise, she would finish cutting the runners and then head out. If she got back early enough, she could put the landing up, and maybe even start on the bottom set of stairs. Decision made, she patted the wood and headed off to take care of her morning rituals.
∞
Around eleven, Olly pulled into the gravel lot in front of the Bitterroot Queen. She sat there, hands on the wheel, trying to calm the ridiculous pounding of her heart. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Or perhaps she should suck it up and go inside.
Beth had been so trashed the night before that she could barely stand on her own and she’d talked nonstop in that slurred, happy, almost present way that drunk people did, complete with an I-love-you-man moment. Not that Olly had been any better at fifteen, but she also hadn’t had a concerned mom at home waiting for her. Seeing the expression on Sam’s face had been the hardest part.
Realistically, Beth might still be sleeping. That didn’t change that Olly needed to see her and verify that she was okay after a clearly rough night. She also wanted to check in with Sam, and make sure she was okay, too. But Beth provided a nice cover for that.
Rampart jumped from the backseat to the front and nudged Olly with his nose. She pushed her hand into his fur, roughing it up and rubbing his neck briskly, in the way that always made him happy.
“You want to go in? Huh?” She buried her face in his fur and hugged him. Fortified, she straightened and said, “Yeah, let’s just head in and get it over with.”
Olly was surprised to find the lobby door unlocked, so she knocked loudly on the glass as she entered. Surprising Sam seemed like the worst idea ever, especially after the pepper spray incident. Sam met her at the door to the apartment, and oh, God, she looked gorgeous, even with the dark circles under her eyes and furrowed brow.
“Hi,” Olly said and even she could tell that it sounded goofy and maybe a little stupid. God, was she going to be like this around Sam forever, now? And how inappropriate was that, given what had happened?
“Hey, what’s up?” Sam held the door open and leaned against the inside wall, leaving plenty of room for Olly to enter. Similar to their first meeting, Sam’s body was filled with a cagey anxiety, and Olly almost asked where her pepper spray was.
“Just checking on Beth. She okay?” Olly kicked the bare wood with her boot. It was easier, she realized, to talk to Sam if she didn’t actually look at her.
“She fell right to sleep.” She paused. “Listen, I’m really glad you came by because I wanted to thank you for bringing her home. Also, I’m sorry that happened. I don’t know why she didn’t just call me.”
“Who knows? She was pretty messed up. I’m just glad she was able to call one of us.”
“Thank you. I mean it. It means a lot to me. More than I can say.”
Olly nodded and heat rushed to her cheeks. “You’re welcome. So, is she awake?”
“I am now.” Beth stood in the door, makeup streaking her face. She wore an oversized shirt that had slipped off her shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” Olly asked, sympathetic but still worried.
“Like hammered shit.” Beth took a couple of steps toward the kitchen and stopped suddenly. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. “Movement is bad.” After a moment, she opened her eyes and eventually shuffled her feet enough times to make it to the far end of the island.
“You were in pretty bad shape last night,” Olly said quietly. Sam tensed, and Olly hoped she’d at least give Beth a little space to talk about it.
“Yeah, I don’t know what the hell happened. Everything was mellow, and nobody pushed me to drink after I said I didn’t want to. Then, the next thing I know, I can’t even put together a sentence. I don’t remember much after that.”
Normally, when a teen said she hadn’t drank but somehow ended up drunk, as if the alcohol magically transported itself from her cup and right into her bloodstream, Olly was the first to call bullshit. She wasn’t that far removed from her under-age drinking and partying stage and knew very well the types of things that happened in that environment. Yet, something about Beth’s demeanor, her frankness perhaps, convinced Olly that she was probably telling the truth. She looked at Sam.
“That doesn’t sound right. You want me to check into the party?”
“And do what?” Sam asked, her voice filled with weariness.
“Ask some questions, find out what happened, and then make sure it never happens again.” Olly kept the answer simple, tried not to sound as angry as she was.
“No,” Beth said with clear authority.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
Sam sighed. “I don’t know. Beth needs to make some changes. She needs to decide to keep herself safe.” She stared at Beth with a strange intensity.
Olly snorted. “She might have some street smarts, but she’s still a kid.”
“We all have to grow up sometime.” Sam shrugged as though that explained everything.
“Yeah, but what if somebody at the party drugged her? How do we just let that go?” Olly asked, surprised by how much it mattered to her and confused about when, exactly, they’d become a “we.”
“And what if Beth drank more than she realized and came home drunk? Her track record with parties, alcohol, and the truth is spotty at best.” Sam glanced sideways at Beth as she spoke.
“I’m right here, you know,” Beth said. “So quit talking over me.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t change anything.” Sam shook her head. “Were you drugged? Against your will, that is?”
There was clearly more to Beth’s history than Olly knew if Sam’s immediate conclusion was that Beth had taken whatever it was willingly.
Beth glared at Sam for a moment and then turned away. “I’m going back to bed.”
“That’s great. No reason for you to wake up and take a little responsibility for this mess.”
In response, Beth growled and slammed her bedroom door, leaving Sam, Olly, and a heavy, uncomfortable silence behind.
Olly cleared her throat. “Sam, just let me look into it. Somebody deserves a serious ass-kicking if they were putting something in the drinks.”
“Maybe, but at this point, I really have no reason to believe Beth didn’t do this to herself,” Sam said with a calm undertone that made Olly want to shake her.
What the hell was this? If Linda had taught Olly anything, it was that retribution should be swift and painful. Anything less and the lesson wouldn’t stick. “Fuck this,” Olly said, frustration winning over tact.
Sam touched her arm. “Wait.”
Olly stood, frozen in place by the light touch of Sam’s two fingers burning through her skin and right down to the bone. She swallowed hard. It was so inappropriate to feel this. Especially now, in the
middle of this family drama. It occurred to her that she might actually be including herself in “family” and that added to her confusion.
Beth reappeared, still looking as though someone had kicked her in the gut repeatedly. “It’s my life. I’ll decide who needs their ass kicked,” Beth said, as if her opinion was the necessary end to the conversation. She was wrong, of course.
“It’s your life to a point. And frankly, you’ve made a spectacular and alarming mess of it,” Sam said. “So, no. You don’t get to decide anything about how it’s handled.”
“What? It was just a party. I told you, not a big deal.” Beth spoke with a quiet, measured tone, biting off each word at the end. Clearly, her hangover did not like to argue.
“And maybe if you’d been around more, I’d have some idea how to do things right. Not that you’d know.”
Ouch. Olly started to back away, toward the door. This was definitely not her scene and not her baggage.
“Yes, Beth. You also told me other things. One in particular stands out,” Sam said flatly, but her gaze was fixed on Beth, a keen glint in her eyes.
The color drained from Beth’s face. “I did?”
Olly stopped, looking from Beth to Sam and back to Beth. This didn’t sound good.
“You did.” Sam nodded, a definitive motion that said this part of the conversation was over for now, but far from finished. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Mom...”
“Later,” Sam snapped. After a deep breath, she turned toward Olly. “You never did say why you stopped in. Was it just to see Beth, or is there something else I should be worried about right now?”
“Worried?” Olly stammered, caught up in the intensity of Sam’s glare. She followed Sam’s example and sucked in a lungful of air. “No, nothing to worry about. I’m, um, headed to Missoula to check out that derelict hotel property and find out about getting some materials from it. If that’s okay.” And if I’m still hired, she finished silently.