Wishing on Willows: A Novel (24 page)

There would be no music. No baking. Just sleep. And lots and lots of prayer, because from where she stood, she sure couldn’t see God in any of this mess. She curled her fingers around the lamp’s pull cord.

“Why? It’s not Saturday?”

“Nope, it’s Thursday, Love Bug.”

“Are the bad guys taking Daddy’s dream?”

Daddy’s dream. Mommy’s dream. Maybe she never should’ve told Caleb that story. “Would it make you sad if we didn’t have the café?”

“Mm-hmm. And you sad too.”

She looked over her shoulder. Caleb was curled on his side, one small hand and one casted hand tucked beneath his chin. He yawned wide and closed his eyes. Her heart pulled tight as she watched him nod off to sleep.

I wish you knew him, Micah. I wish you knew our little boy. But you don’t. And I’m so tired of doing this on my own
.

Caleb’s breathing turned rhythmic. She stared at Micah’s face, frozen in time with a smile, unaware that he had a son who was growing up without a father. Unaware that with each passing day, he faded a little bit more. Unaware that sometimes, Robin didn’t fight the fading.

She pulled the lamp cord and the room went black.

“Mommy? Who’s that?” Caleb stood in the middle of Willow Tree, pointing at the canvases hanging on the wall
.

Where were all the chairs? And the tables? She crouched low and pulled him close. “Honey, that’s Daddy. You know Daddy, right?”

“Where did his face go?”

Her breath stumbled. She stood and spun in a circle until the pictures blurred into streaks of black and white. Every single one had a white blotch over Micah’s face. Who would do this? Who would erase her husband?

She ripped a canvas off the wall and slammed it against the ground. Then another and another, until Caleb cried. She turned around to go to him, but he wasn’t there. Somebody else was. A man standing by her piano. Tall and handsome and familiar, even from the back
.

A guttural sound tore through her. She lurched forward and clutched his shoulders. “Look at me, Micah. Let me see your face.”

He pressed a key. The haunting note reverberated through the café
.

“You made it happen, Robin. You brought our dream to life,” he said
.

His voice melted over her, covering her in honey, wrapping her in warmth. She breathed it in, saturating herself in its perfect pitch
.

“It’s everything we wanted. It’s beautiful,” he said
.

She gripped his jacket between her fingers and pressed herself against him, desperate for the warmth of his skin and the smell of cologne. A sob bubbled up from her stomach. Her husband was alive! She didn’t have to be alone anymore. His death was nothing more than a horribly long, drawn-out nightmare
.

He turned around, brushed his lips across her hair, and looked into her eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

Robin’s heart dropped dead in her chest
.

“What’s wrong?”

She stepped back. Shook her head
.

He reached out. “Robin, what’s wrong?”

It was her husband’s voice
.

But it was Ian’s face
.

Robin jerked upright in bed, chest heaving. She sucked in mouthfuls of air, swallowing oxygen into her burning lungs. Micah. His name echoed from her dream. And for one horrifying moment, she couldn’t picture his face. She couldn’t remember the exact shape of his eyes or the slant of his jaw or the curve of his smile. Only the sound of his voice.

She threw back her comforter, stumbled across the room, and opened the bottom drawer of her dresser. With trembling hands she took out the photo album buried beneath her jeans and let it fall open over her knees. Night filtered through her window, ruffling the drapes. A beam of pale moonlight crept across her floor and cast a glow upon the pictures splayed across her lap.

Micah.

But the name only elicited an echo of the longing it once did.

Ian escorted Amanda inside the banquet hall, her fingers curling around his bicep as music and conversation filled the opened room. His attention jumped from one table to the next, bypassing the floral centerpieces as he looked for his parents.

“Do we have a spot where we’re supposed to sit?” Amanda asked.

“We usually have a reserved table up front.”

“How many times has your father been nominated?”

“I’ve lost count.” Ian craned his neck and looked around a pair of old men. Was that Dad in the back? “He’s been nominated at least ten. I’m pretty sure he’s won half of those.”

“Sounds like an impressive man.”

Ian’s father was more than impressive. He had started with nothing. No money. No parental support. Got a full-ride scholarship to Loyola. A flawless 4.0 in graduate school. His first bank loan and business deal. With determination, integrity, passion, and a whole bunch of hard work, Dad had accomplished all of it on his own. It was one of the reasons Ian admired his father, one of the reasons he aspired to be like him.

“This is exciting. I haven’t gotten dressed up like this since senior prom.” Amanda leaned toward his ear. “When do I get to meet your parents? Are they as fancy as you?”

“They’re around here somewhere.” He looked at Amanda in her sparkly black dress and something uncomfortable squirmed in his stomach. He didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. And she deserved to be more than a distraction. “Thanks for coming. It’s nice to have a new friend along.”

She tilted her head back and laughed, black beads glinting over her neck.

“Did I say something funny?”

“You’re just being a guy.”

“Being a guy?”

“I give you credit for setting me straight before I could get my hopes up. That was very gentlemanly of you.”

The knots of tension tangling his muscles unraveled, as if her words found the string tying them all together. Amanda understood him, and she wasn’t angry. In fact, she had laughed. “I’m curious about something,” he said.

“And that would be?”

“Why did you come tonight?”

“Why not come tonight?”

“I can think of a whole list of why nots. Starting with Robin, your sister-in-law, who hates me.” His body temperature warmed and it had nothing to do with Amanda’s arm looped through his. Ever since Robin escaped the hearing, he could think of little else. Despite his best efforts to distract himself with business, the desperation in her eyes haunted him, especially since he was responsible for placing it there.

“… so really, it’s not a big deal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ian blinked. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I told her where I was going tonight. It’s not like I’m being sneaky or anything.”

“How did she react to the news?”

“Pretended not to care.”

“You think she does?” The question jumped out of his mouth. Too quick and eager.

Judging by the arc of Amanda’s left eyebrow, she noticed.

He looked away, mortified by the heat in his cheeks.

“Of course she does.”

He waited for her to elaborate. Only she didn’t. She tilted her chin, her
hazel eyes sparkling as if his painful silence amused her. Ian pressed his lips together and led her through the crowd before he could incriminate himself any further. He ushered her past a young couple and almost collided with a platinum blonde, a familiar apple martini in her hand.

Ian stepped back.

The woman’s ruby-red smile froze in place.

“Cheryl?” He followed the length of her arm, entwined with another. A muscular gentleman with a receding hairline and a neatly trimmed goatee. Ian blinked several times, trying to register the fact that his ex-wife was standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

“I worked for your father for eight years. Of course I was going to come.”

She was also his daughter-in-law for four. Funny how she left that part out. “Can I speak with you for a moment?” He turned to Amanda. “Would that be okay with you?”

“I’ll keep your date company while you two catch up.” The man with the goatee didn’t look at all intimidated or perturbed that another man wanted a word with his date. He actually looked rather bored. After taking Cheryl’s martini, he offered Amanda his elbow. “We’ll be at the bar.”

Amanda took the offered arm and snuck one last glance at Ian before being led away.

Cheryl crossed her arms. Not in a way that suggested annoyance, but in a way that suggested she needed protecting. The gesture reminded him of Robin. His insides revolted against the comparison. Cheryl and Robin were nothing alike. Ian stuck his hands in his pockets and clenched them into fists.

“What did you want to speak with me about?” she asked.

“Why are you returning my alimony checks?”

“Because I don’t want your money.”

Right. She didn’t want anything. At least not from him. She’d made that crystal-clear. Nothing he had to give was good enough. He couldn’t fix what had broken since … No. He wouldn’t go there. Not tonight. “So I’m just supposed to stop sending them?”

“Every time I get them, it’s like this barbed reminder of something I don’t want to remember.” Something in her eyes died—they turned cold and hard, like two stone pebbles. “I don’t want to remember any of it.”

Neither did he. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t forget. Not all the way. It lurked in dark corners, crouching in all its unpleasant truth, pouncing at unexpected, inconvenient times. And all he could do was get on his knees and pray. Ask for forgiveness. Offer forgiveness. Again and again. Until the lurking thing no longer choked him.

“I want to move on with my life. What’s done is done. We can’t change it.”

“Ian! There you are!” Dad emerged from the shuffle of bodies, flanked by two men dressed in suits. He looked from Cheryl to Ian and a bit of hope sparkled in his eyes. Ian wanted to blot it out. “I was wondering when you were going to get here.”

“Congratulations on the nomination,” Cheryl said.

Dad shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Thank you, Cheryl. It was very kind of you to come.”

She squeezed Dad’s hand, gave Ian a “let’s just drop it” look, and disappeared into the crowd, probably in search of her martini. Dad introduced Ian to the two men—the chamber president and a fellow CEO. Ian joined in the small talk with half his attention. The other searched for Mom. He’d like to sit next to her and talk. Unload the burden pressing so heavily against his shoulders. Cheryl. Dad’s looming deadline. Robin’s frustrating refusal to accept a draw. All that would be lost if Ian couldn’t close the deal in time. And this vague, unsettling sensation of dissatisfaction that grew bigger and bigger every time he saw Robin in her element. Mom always listened.

The two men shook Ian’s hand again and left to go find their seats.

Ian rounded on his father. “Did you invite Cheryl?”

“She was a part of our family for four years and one of the best employees I’ve ever had. Of course I invited her.”

“Dad, she’s my ex-wife.” He had divorce papers to prove it.

“And I’ll never understand why.”

Heat gathered around Ian’s collar. When would Dad let this go? “Cheryl
came with a date. So did I. You should have warned me you invited her. I don’t appreciate being blindsided.”

Dad watched him like he might unravel. Right there, in front of everybody, in the big, fancy banquet hall. Like Ian was fragile and weak. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see her.” He tugged at the knot of his tie, beyond ready to forget Cheryl and the past. “Should we go find Mom?”

“Your mother’s at home.”

“Yeah, right.” Mom wouldn’t miss this event in a million years. She was Dad’s biggest cheerleader. She was with him when McKay Development and Construction was nothing more than a dream. She supported him through every success, every setback. The company was as much hers as it was Dad’s.

“She was feeling too unwell to come.”

The words set off alarms. A cavern of ringing, echoing alarms.

“It’s the chemo that’s getting to her. Not the cancer.”

Cancer. Ian didn’t know it was possible to feel such loathing toward a word.

“So tell me, what’s this good news you were talking about on the phone? Did you acquire the site?”

“I’m getting closer. We had a town meeting on Thursday. Majority’s in favor of the condominiums.”

“That’s excellent news.”

Yeah, except for the giant roadblock that is Robin
.

“You said you brought a date?”

“Amanda!” Ian turned on his heel. What kind of man left his date unattended when she didn’t know anybody? He looked from table to table until he found her standing next to the bar, stuck between a stiff-shouldered Cheryl and her bored date. She caught Ian looking for her and gave him and his father a wave.

Ian waved back. “That’s her, right there.”

“Nice-looking woman. Are you going to introduce me?”

Ian held out his hand. “After you.”

His father parted the crowd like the Red Sea. Everybody stepped away with a look of admiration, like Dad was a modern-day version of Moses. Like he had a staff that could do miracles.