Page 3 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)

SHAY – LAKE GEORGE, NEW YORK

T he oxygen machine hummed its soft, rhythmic exhale beside the bed.

The heart monitor beeped. It was low but filled the room, letting Shay know her mother was still alive.

Outside the window, autumn had begun to press its gold-stained fingers against the trees, but the air in the room remained still, heavy with waiting.

Shay sat beside her mother’s bed, notebook forgotten in her lap, one hand loosely wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug of cooling tea. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just… tired.

Margaret had always been a force. A sharp-witted, deeply empathetic guidance counselor with a backbone made of steel and a heart that took on everyone else’s pain like it was her own.

But now that same heart was faltering—literally.

The rare genetic heart condition they thought was manageable had accelerated faster than the doctors predicted.

She was dying. They could no longer pretend the end wasn’t on the other side of the door.

For the last six months they’d tried. They’d made a list of things they wanted to do together.

Some might call it a bucket list. They chose not to call it anything.

It just was. They gardened together, something they used to do when Shay had been a kid.

They went on walks, when her mother felt up for it.

Watched old movies. Took drives to places that meant something or places that had no significance at all, except to make a new memory.

They laughed. They cried. They loved.

Shay cherished these last six months with her mom. However, she resented that it took something like a terminal illness to remind Shay that her mom wasn’t a superhero.

“Shay?” Her mother raised a shaky finger. “Who are those flowers from and when did they get here?” her mom asked as she woke from a short nap.

Sometimes Shay wondered if her mom knew she constantly went in and out of sleep in the middle of conversations. “About twenty minutes ago,” Shay said. “The card says they’re from your old study group in college. The note said something about we can help, just say the word.”

Her mom coughed and wheezed.

“Any pain?” Shay asked softly.

Her mother blinked slowly. “Just a little,” she murmured. “Mostly I’m just annoyed.”

Shay raised an eyebrow. “At the flowers?”

“Not them so much, but I haven’t spoken to that group in years,” her mom said with a long sigh.

“Death. It has terrible timing. I’m so sorry you had to spend this last year taking care of me.

” She waved her hand toward the floral arrangement.

“Get rid of those things. I wasn’t really friends with those people back then.

They certainly can’t help me now and I don’t really want to stare at them on my deathbed. ”

Shay rose, snagged the vase, and placed it in the hallway.

Her mom’s friends consisted of the garden club ladies, a few women in the neighborhood, and a few colleagues from the high school.

She’d never talked much about college, except to say her focus had been to get her degree and to raise her daughter.

Outside of that, her mother didn’t have much time for a social life.

Shay eased back into the chair. “I’m so grateful for this last year, Mom.

Besides, I was growing tired of my job. This last one wasn’t what I expected.

They had me behind a desk, not out there giving tours, and while I want to return to Australia someday, I do not belong in the corner. ”

“No, my baby girl certainly does not.” Her mother coughed again. “Once I’m better, you’ll find another awesome guide job somewhere. Maybe New Zealand or Cambodia. I know those are on your list.”

Shay managed a faint smile, though her chest ached because her mom wouldn’t get better this time.

The doctor had told her to start making plans for the end because it was right around the corner.

She reached for the blanket, smoothing it across her mother’s legs just as she heard the mail truck drive by.

“Be right back,” she said, stepping into the hallway.

She leaned against the wall and sucked in a deep breath.

Shay wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this.

She wasn’t as strong as her mother. She bent over, picked up the flowers, and stared at the card.

She found it odd that the study group hadn’t signed their names, and even odder, her mother’s reaction. But who was she to judge?

Quickly, she brought the flowers down to the kitchen and placed them on the table, where she’d let them wither until they died. She’d toss them on garbage day. She raced out the front door, down the porch steps, and snagged the mail, but not before she waved to the neighbor across the street.

She returned a minute later with a small stack of envelopes and a glossy catalog.

“Junk, junk… medical bill… sympathy card from someone who apparently thinks you’re already dead.

” Someone might think her and her mom’s way of handling this situation was cold and uncaring.

But her mother always took things on the chin.

She always told Shay that life was a circle and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t end that cycle.

Live, love, and laugh to the fullest. It’s why her mom always supported Shay’s travel dreams because it’s what made her happy.

But Shay wasn’t sure what could ever make her heart sing now.

Margaret snorted softly, eyes closed. “Probably Amanda from the gardening club. She wants to be chair and my death would give her that opportunity.”

“Maybe I should join the gardening club because Amanda Ludwin is a snob. She was a bitch to me in school and I can’t believe she’s giving you a hard time.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, dear,” her mom said softly. “Except maybe with you.”

“Yeah, I rolled a little down the hill.”

Both women laughed at the old joke.

Her mom reached out with a shaky hand. “I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Shay smiled at her mom. “Thanks. I love you, too.” She went back to the pile of mail. “Well, crap.” She held up the official-looking envelope.

“What is it, dear?”

“I believe it’s a jury summons.” She tore open the paperwork and held it up toward the light. “Yup. It sure is and I can’t get out of it this time.” She set it aside. Why anyone would want to serve on a jury, she had no idea.

She held the last piece of mail in her hands. The handwriting was unfamiliar, sharp and masculine but clean. The return address was from a Navy base in Virginia.

“This one’s for you,” she said, holding it up.

Margaret opened her eyes. Slowly. Focused. “Who’s it from?” she asked.

“Moose Rhoades.”

A huge smile spread across her mother’s face. “That’s the young man I tried to tell you about. Open it,” Margaret demanded. “Read it to me.”

Shay hesitated, then slid a finger under the flap and unfolded the letter.

“Dear Margaret,

It’s been too long since I checked in. That’s on me.

I always think I’ll have more time. But I made you a promise all those years ago.

So, this is me, letting you know I’m good.

I’m vertical. And I just wanted to thank you again—for everything.

For seeing something in me when no one else did.

For sitting with me in that office after school when I didn’t have the guts to go home.

You probably saved my life more times than you know.

I would have never joined the Navy and become a SEAL had it not been for you.

Anyway, the chickens are doing well. You’d laugh at how attached I am to them now. Never thought I’d be a guy with a coop. But here we are.

I hope you’re well. I hope you’re still raising hell in whatever way you can.

Hope your daughter is still living the dream.

Wink. Wink. I know how much you love her adventures and I also know how much you secretly want her to come home.

But in true Margaret form, you always want those you care about to spread their wings and fly.

You’ll always be the person who helped me find my wings.

—Matthew Rhoades (Moose)”

Shay’s voice caught a little at the end.

She knew her mom wanted her to settle down, get married, and have babies.

And maybe someday Shay would do that. But at twenty-eight, she wasn’t so sure she was ready.

But she was getting closer and right now, all that mattered was taking care of her mom.

Taking care of the one person who made sure Shay could have all her dreams come true.

She set the letter aside. She’d always known that her mom had touched the lives of so many other children. That had been her job and she was the best at it. Or at least that’s what Shay believed because her mom never brought her work home.

Her mother was beaming with pride. The same kind of pride she had when she spoke of Shay.

“Matthew… Moose,” she said fondly. “God. It’s been maybe two years since I’ve heard from him. He was a good kid stuck in a bad home life that could’ve twisted him into a different man.”

“His nickname is Moose? Why?”

Her mother chuckled, eyes glassy. “It’s what everyone called him.

Even back then. Always saw things no one else did.

Even had a knack for spotting moose in the wild.

He thought it was a bad omen or something because it’s not like there are a lot of moose here in the Adirondacks.

I told him it was a sign that he was more observant than most. That he should hone that skill and that’s exactly what he did.

He’d show up in my office—even when he didn’t have an appointment—and tell me about all the things he noticed.

At school. At home.” Her mother sighed. “That poor boy. He had such a rough time of it. I worried about all my kids, but that one, because he was so smart, had so much potential, and deep down wanted to make something of himself but got beat down by those who were supposed to champion him, well, I worried he’d never make it out. ”

“Would I have known this man? Because I don’t remember anyone by that name.”

Her mother shook her head. “No, dear. He’s about four or five years older than you.”

Shay stared down at the letter again, suddenly seeing it differently. Less like a thank-you note and more like a lifeline that had stretched across years of pain and silence.

“I’ve met some of the young men and women you’ve counseled over the years.

Some of it was helping them through their parents’ divorce.

Or a death in the family. I never met anyone who didn’t enjoy speaking with you about their problems. However, it appears this one you really made a difference in his life,” Shay said.

“He was headed down a dark road. And he turned everything around. He fought for it. I was just someone who left the light on. I think the only difference with him was that he had no one else. Not a single person in his corner. Everyone had written him off.”

“He touched you too.” Shay fiddled with her locket. “More than anyone else you’ve helped.”

“He’s a special man. I’ve always hoped he’d return to Lake George someday. What I wouldn’t give to just lay my eyes on him one last time or for you to meet him.”

She stared at her mother. “Oh my God, Mom. Please, not this again .”

“They’ve all touched me, sweetheart,” her mom said.

“But yeah, Moose affected me more than most. I think that’s because I know deep in my soul if he hadn’t found a way to turn that train around, he would’ve surely ended up dead or in prison.

His parents weren’t good people. His dad is in prison now and his mom…

well… she’s a mess. Moose did the heavy lifting and he got out and made something of himself.

I didn’t do that. He did. The only thing I did was help him see that he had something to offer this world other than what he was born into. ”

“You’re good at helping people find their hidden gems.”

Her mom patted her leg. “I’d love for you to meet someday. But you’re always off traipsing around the world, and so is he.”

Something in Shay’s chest ached. A sudden need to know this man and that was an unwelcome feeling. “I want to write him back,” she said, surprising herself. “I want to tell him… you’re still here. But things have taken a turn. I think he’d want to know.”

Margaret didn’t speak for a long moment. But then she reached for Shay’s hand and squeezed. “Good,” she said. “He deserves the truth. And you could use someone like him in your corner, too.”

“I’m not doing this for me, Mother.” Shay cocked a brow.

“I’m doing this for you… and for Moose. It’s closure.

” She held her mother’s hand, leaning forward and kissing her cheek.

“We know the end is near. Everyone here knows that too. The flowers, the letters and cards, people show they care every day. But this boy meant something to you and you to him. I think you both deserve the chance to say goodbye.”

A tear rolled down her mother’s cheek. “Maybe that apple didn’t fall so far after all.”