Free Don't Cry for Me by Sharon Sala Page A

proud.
    “Hey, Mom, what are you thinking?” Meg asked, as the cabin came into view.
    “That I need to keep an open mind and not judge.”
    Meg frowned. “Are you thinking you won’t like her?”
    “Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that. I was thinking about what shape she’ll be in. Remember how Quinn was when he first came back? Whatever we said or did for him was wrong. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he didn’t want any help.”
    Meg sighed. It had been hard on all of them to watch him suffer and be unable to help, but it had been hardest on their mom. When they were young, she’d always been able to fix their boo-boos. It had to be hell for a parent to see that kind of suffering and not be able to do anything about it.
    “It’ll be okay, Mom. I think the main thing is to follow her lead.”
    Dolly nodded as she got out of the car, but she wasn’t convinced. And then the door opened. The young woman standing in the doorway had her chin up and her shoulders back. She looked like she was gearing up for a fight, not greeting guests.
    “Oh, crap, she doesn’t look happy,” Meg said.
    “She doesn’t know us,” Dolly said, determined that if Quinn liked this woman, then she would like her, too.
    She picked up her cobbler and headed for the cabin.
    Meg followed with her own offerings as they walked up the steps.
    “You must be Mariah,” Dolly said. “Meg and I brought you and Quinn something for supper tonight.”
    “Quinn’s not here,” Mariah said, shifting nervously as she stepped aside to let them come in.
    Meg frowned. “Oh, we’re sorry. This is his day off, so we just assumed…”
    Mariah shrugged. “There was some trouble about a bear. I think they called everyone in to the ranger station.”
    “Well, then, we’ll just introduce ourselves,” Dolly said, and set her cobbler down on the counter. “I’m Quinn’s mother, Dolly Walker, but you just call me Dolly. This is my daughter, Margaret Lewis, but we all call her Meg.”
    “It’s nice to meet you, and the food smells wonderful,” Mariah said. “I’m sorry the sofa is out of commission, but you’re welcome to take a seat on what is now my bed.”
    “We can sit out on the deck,” Meg offered.
    Mariah didn’t want to argue, but Quinn had given her orders she wasn’t inclined to ignore.
    “Quinn told me not to spend time outside until the bear was caught.”
    Dolly glanced at the worry on Mariah’s face. Quinn had warned them about the danger, but she hadn’t taken it seriously until now.
    “Then we can sit at the kitchen table just as easily.” She glanced at the clock. It was after twelve o’clock. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”
    Mariah shook her head. “I was debating on which can of soup to open when you drove up.”
    Meg waved toward the table. “You two sit. I’ll poke around and get all three of us something.”
    Mariah sat because she didn’t know what else to do. She was already out of place here. Trying to play hostess would be a joke. She wanted these women to like her, but her track record with women friends wasn’t the best. She supposed it had to do with a lack of bonding as a child. The few times she’d actually gotten attached to a foster parent, she had been moved. After a while she’d quit trying.
    Dolly could tell Mariah was ill at ease, but there was one thing they all had in common that would be safe grounds for conversation, and that was Quinn.
    “So, you and Quinn were in the same combat unit in Afghanistan?”
    Mariah nodded.
    Dolly smiled as she reached for Mariah’s hands, holding them firmly in her grasp to punctuate her words.
    “I know you saved my son’s life, and for that alone you will always hold a special place in my heart. Thank you, my dear. Thank you very, very much.”
    The woman’s warmth was infectious. Mariah’s nerves began to settle. She felt embarrassed to be singled out like this when there were others who’d been there, too.
    “We were just lucky to find him