Wishing on Willows: A Novel (17 page)

“The feeling’s mutual.”

The words clinked like a penny tossed into a dried-up wishing well. She should feel happy for her father, not empty, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing Dad and Donna hold hands and laugh not only made Robin miss Mom, it reminded her of everything she didn’t have. She worked hard to push the negative thoughts aside and focus instead on all that God
had
given her. She had so much in Caleb and the café. What good did it do to focus on the one thing He’d taken away?

“Robin?”

She looked up from her big toe.

“I want to tell you something, in private, before we make the announcement.”

A far-off humming came to life in her ears. “Announcement?”

“Donna and I, well”—Dad gave her a sheepish grin and brought his hand to the back of his neck—“we’re getting married.”

She tried to smile, but her lips felt all loose and tingly, like she’d just had work done at the dentist.
Dad had proposed …

He stepped forward and wrapped her in a bear hug.

She forced her arms to hug him back. “Congratulations,” she whispered.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Your support means the world to us.”

Us. She had been an
us
once, with Micah. But even in their happiest
us
moments, Caleb had been missing. And now in her happiest moments with Caleb, Micah was missing. Why did something have to be missing?

“I really want you and Donna to be close.” Dad tipped her chin and looked into her eyes. “I know you’ll love her once you get to know her better.” He let go and held out his elbow. “I’m going to announce the big news. Care to join me?”

Robin opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She pressed her palm against her collarbone and tried a second time. “You go ahead. I need to use the rest room first.”

A hint of a frown flickered across his brow, but he nodded, wiped his hands down the thighs of his jeans, and left Robin stranded in the kitchen, scrunched and twisted, like a once-wet towel wrung out and left to dry.

Ian pulled at his collar, searching for an opportunity to politely excuse himself. Now that he had delivered the news about the town meeting, he felt terribly uncomfortable about staying at what was clearly a family party. But he had a hard time following the conversation. Robin’s vehement words about One Life had him distracted. Contrary to what she might think, he didn’t want to see the ministry go. Especially not at the hands of his father’s company. He glanced toward the farmhouse and spotted Bethany escorting Amanda back to the picnic tables.

When they arrived, Amanda straddled the bench, wrapped her arms around Caleb’s chest and set her chin on top of his head. Bethany slid next to her husband. She and Evan exchanged a hidden look—a wordless language carved from years of intimacy. One that watered Ian’s growing discomfort.

“How’s your job going, Bethany?” Kyle asked. “Evan was telling me about it at the meet and greet.”

“She’s getting referrals left and right. Pretty soon I won’t have to farm anymore.”

Bethany gave Evan a playful nudge. “You’ll quit farming the day I learn how to bake.”

“You bake okay.”

Bethany raised her eyebrows at Loraine. “Your son’s a liar.”

Loraine smiled. “I know I’ve said it before, Bethy, but every time I see that café, I’m amazed. You really made it into something special.”

“I’m always wondering where she got her talent,” Ruth said.

Ian sat up straighter. “You designed Willow Tree?”

“Bethany’s an architect.” Amanda dug her hand inside an opened bag of chips. “Any of the new or renovated buildings on the north end of Peaks are in her portfolio.”

“Really?” Ian pondered this new bit of information. He didn’t have to be a genius to figure out Bethany had more clout with Robin than any other person at the table. “Our company is always looking for talented architects. Have you ever designed condominiums or townhomes?”

“A couple.”

“Would you mind if I took a look at your portfolio?”

“She’s got a really great website,” Amanda said.

Evan and Bethany shot her a look.

“What?” Amanda popped a chip in her mouth and crunched it between her teeth. “I was paying you a compliment.”

Ian chuckled. He liked Amanda.

Robin’s father returned. He stepped behind Donna and squeezed her shoulders. “If I could have everyone’s attention, we have an announcement to make,” he said.

Everybody turned.

“Would you like a drumroll?” Amanda asked.

Donna laughed. “I think a drumroll would be most appropriate.”

Amanda drummed her pointer fingers against the picnic table. Caleb joined. Robin’s dad took a deep breath, his eyes dancing as he looked from one person to the next. “Donna and I are getting married.”

Amanda and Loraine and Ruth jumped up from the table and descended on Donna with excitement and hugs. Jim stood with baby Elyse and pumped the man’s hand. And in the midst of the jubilation, Ian spied an uneasy look pass between Bethany and Evan before they joined in the congratulations.

Ian peered toward the farmhouse, then back to the celebration unfolding before him. The family party had become even more intimate. Capitalizing on the moment of jubilee, he made his exit, walked up the grassy hill and knocked on the screen door. Before he left, he wanted to check on Robin. Despite what she might think, he didn’t like causing anyone grief.

When nobody answered, he walked around the house and spotted her still, slender frame sitting on the top step of the wraparound porch, the sun shimmering against her hair. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear, giving him access to her silhouette, her features sketched with warmth and sorrow. How had he missed it before? Passion and joy had filled the notes of her music … but something else had given it depth. The chord that had touched his soul? It had been a chord of sadness—a sound he wished he didn’t know.

Despite his quiet approach, she looked up, away from whatever she had been examining in her hand. Ian closed the gap between them and sat beside her on the stoop. A strong breeze rustled through the tree towering in the front yard. The chain of the tire swing groaned as the treaded rubber swayed back and forth. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’ve had better days.”

Ian peeked at the photograph in her hand. The man in the picture looked like a younger version of Evan. “Do you usually carry a photograph of him?”

Robin clasped the photo to her chest. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like woo my family?”

“Consider them wooed.”

“You’re very cocky.”

“Confident is such a nicer word.” He placed his hands behind him on the warm floorboards, bleached white from years of sun.

She leaned so far away that her back hugged the banister.

“You’re not happy about your dad’s news?”

Robin cocked her eyebrow. “On top of fixing ovens and child-rescuing, you like to play Dr. Phil too? Any other hidden talents I should know about?”

He smiled at his shoes. “So what, you don’t like Donna?”

“Of course I like Donna.”

“You want your parents back together?”

“My mother’s dead.”

“Oh.” The breeze returned. It whispered through the branches of the tree until the boughs bent back and forth, like Mother Nature wagging her finger at him. “I’m sorry.”

Robin twisted her wedding ring. “It was a long time ago.”

“Time doesn’t always make things easier.”

She looked at him, then. Full in the face. Tangles of dark hair framed her cheeks, and the sadness in her eyes tugged at something deep in his chest. “No, it doesn’t.”

Staring straight at Robin’s loss reminded him of his mother. If the cancer won—something he refused to believe possible—he couldn’t imagine all the time in the world would dull the ache she’d leave behind. Setting his elbows on his knees, Ian spotted a penny lying on the dirt between his shoes. He picked it up, rubbed his thumb over the dull copper. When he looked back at Robin, a deep divot had etched itself in between her eyebrows and her lips were twisted to the side.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he said, holding out the coin.

She didn’t take it.

“I’d love to know what you were just thinking.”

“I was thinking about One Life. Last fall, they helped my employee, Molly, secure a new apartment after the bank foreclosed on her home.”

He flipped the penny off his thumb, where it landed in the grass, a piece of treasure waiting for Caleb to discover. “Believe it or not, I’m sorry about the ministry.”

“Just not enough to stop.”

Ian pulled at his jaw, then gripped the back of his neck. He didn’t choose the location. Robin blamed him for things outside his control. “If it were up to me, I’d build the condos elsewhere. Far away from your café and far away from One Life.”

Robin looked down at her feet. A soft, pale pink painted her toenails.

“Do you really think I want to go to battle with the town saint?”

She jerked her head up. “Town saint?”

“I believe that’s what Cecile Arton called you. Saint Robin, caretaker of the hurting and lonely.” At the time, he assumed Robin was a typical do-gooder, helping the less fortunate so she could feel less guilty about her own good fortune. He had no idea she belonged to the very population she served. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I’m only doing what anybody else would do.”

“That’s not true. Otherwise every widow and orphan in this world would have full bellies. Last I read in the paper, that’s not the case.”

A blush the same color as her toenails painted Robin’s cheeks, but her posture stiffened. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m waiting for you to listen to my offer.”

“Fine. What is it?”

He blinked, then quoted his price.

The rosiness in her cheeks faded to chalky white.

He and his father had discussed it. They’d offer her as much as they could if it meant getting her to sell. “The mayor wants these condos. He’s thrilled about them. Come Thursday, I’m willing to bet the rest of the town will be thrilled as well.”

“Your overconfidence will be your downfall, Mr. McKay.”

“Ian.”

“You’re underestimating Peaks.” She lifted her chin. “And you’re underestimating me.”

He took her in—from the blazing blue of her eyes, to the stubborn set of her jaw, to the determined slant of her narrow shoulders—and smiled. “Is that possible?”

“After losing my husband and single parenting and getting that café up and running, I’ve discovered something about myself.”

It was his turn to cock his eyebrow.

“I know how to get back up after being knocked down. I’m a fighter, especially for things that matter to me, and let me tell you, Mr. McKay, that café matters. Despite the broken appliances and being short staffed and
every other headache that comes with running a business, I love Willow Tree.” Robin pushed herself up to standing and sandwiched the photograph between her palms. “So thank you for your offer, but no, thanks. I’ve listened, and I’m not interested.”

Ian looked up at her, careful to keep his face neutral. He couldn’t let her see how much her words shook him, not just because they boded ill for his plans, but because he couldn’t help coveting her passion. “I guess I’ll see you at the town meeting, then.”

“I guess so.” She walked away.

“Hey, Robin?”

She stopped and turned.

“I don’t want to fight you on this.”

“Then don’t.”

She said it like it was so simple. But if he gave up, the mayor would simply find another developer. Robin would still lose her café. One Life’s ministry would still be shoved aside for condominiums. And Dad would be left to pick up the pieces of Ian’s failure once again. “I don’t have a choice.”

She shoved the picture in her pocket. “There’s always a choice,” she said, and continued on her way.

Ian scuffed his shoes against the ground, the untruth of Robin’s words scraping against tender scars.

People used to warn us that the first year of marriage was the hardest. At my wedding shower, my great-aunt Ingrid, who was deaf in her right ear, told me very loudly to enjoy the honeymoon because lovemaking would eventually turn into a chore. Several of my older cousins nodded, like Aunt Ingrid had offered up a golden morsel of wisdom. People would look at Micah and me holding hands like they knew something we didn’t. Like the minute Micah and I said “I do,” our love would spoil and we’d stop touching.

It made me nervous.

So much so that on the plane ride home from our honeymoon, I braced for the change. I readied for a shift, mentally preparing myself for a souring that never came. Micah and I settled into married life like perfectly poured cement. As far as Aunt Ingrid? She couldn’t have been more wrong. It was as if God had created Micah for me, and me for him. Living with him, sharing my life with him, was as easy as breathing.

Marrying Micah made me a believer in soul mates.

Then on our five-year anniversary, we decided to have a baby. The first time I took a pregnancy test, I was almost shocked at the single line. Micah and I did everything so well. I assumed pregnancy would be the same.

But it wasn’t.