Spring Tide by Robbi McCoy Page B

just sitting around brooding.”
    “Mom, about that—” Stef hesitated. “We can talk about it when I see you Sunday.”
    “Okay.” Her voice revealed concern. “How are you doing, Stephanie? Feeling better? Was vacationing out in the boondocks a good idea?”
    “Yeah. It was. It’s kind of a strange place, like it’s a million miles away from home. It’s quiet here. That’s what I was looking for.”
    “I still don’t know why you gave up your apartment. You knew you wouldn’t be on leave for more than a few months. Now you’re going to have to find a new place just as you’re starting back to work. But you know you can stay here as long as you need to. We can move those boxes out of your old room. It’s no problem.”
    Her mother, like everyone, had been treating her with special care. Even if she didn’t understand exactly what Stef was going through, she did understand it was traumatic and painful. Her mother thought she was staying with a friend. Just getting away for a while to clear her head. Stef hadn’t told her the bigger plan because she didn’t want to disappoint her. Her mother had always been so proud of her daughter the police officer. And no matter how old she got, she always felt like she was in big trouble when she disappointed her mother. She suspected it had something to do with the fact that her mother was the only person who ever used her full name: Stephanie. Even her brothers had adapted to “Stef.” But her mother had refused to use the nickname. That old gripe went way back.
    “Stephanie’s such a pretty name,” she’d complain. Stef had given up “Stephanie” by the age of eleven. Photos of herself at that age depicted a skinny, knobby-kneed girl in shorts and T-shirt, wearing a cowboy hat and holster, spinning a toy six-shooter on her finger. “Sheriff Stef,” she’d introduce herself in a growling voice. Her brother, Bruce, who was older and therefore in charge, would correct her. “You’re not Sheriff Stef. You’re Deputy Stef. I’m the sheriff. You can’t have two sheriffs.”
    “Why not?” she’d whine.
    “You just can’t.”
    Their younger brother, Jay, by virtue of being the youngest and therefore weakest, would usually have to be the crook and end up tied to a chair.
    She’d let them call her Deputy Stef to appease Bruce, but in her mind, she was still Sheriff Stef. She would have thought it impossible to be Sheriff Stephanie. Why not? she wondered now. Too girly? A girl could be a sheriff. But maybe she didn’t realize that then. Or maybe it wasn’t too girly. Maybe it just sounded too fragile, more like a victim than a heroine. Like Sheriff Annabelle. Wrong image.
    “Have you heard from Erin?” her mother asked.
    “No. Not since she left. I don’t expect to hear from her.”
    “I think it was so cruel of her to break up with you at a time like this.”
    “I don’t blame her. I wasn’t easy to be with.”
    “That’s the point, isn’t it? She left you in your hour of need. She should have stood by you.”
    “That’s for committed couples, Mom,” Stef said with irritation. “Erin and I were just dating. It wasn’t that serious. I was a bitch, so she moved on.”
    “You shouldn’t blame yourself. Of course you weren’t yourself under the circumstances. A person who cared about you would be patient and understanding.”
    “Mom, please, let’s not talk about Erin. It doesn’t matter.”
    “I just don’t want you to be alone.”
    “I know, but Erin was never going to be that woman for me anyway, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, till death do you part.”
    She heard her mother sigh. “I wish you could find somebody like that.”
    “And I wish you could find somebody like that too.”
    “Oh, Stephanie,” her mother laughed. “I’m glad to see you still have a sense of humor.”
    “Love you, Mom,” Stef concluded. “I’ll see you Sunday.”
    She hung up and glanced at the photograph of herself and Molina,