Wishing on Willows: A Novel (27 page)

That was the plan, anyway.

But when it came to Micah, plans burned holes through his pockets. So did my engagement ring. Which is why he showed up on my doorstep several days before our weekend trip, the night before he was supposed to fly to Florida over spring break with Habitat for Humanity.

“Let’s go to Chicago,” he said.

I was wearing pink checkered flannel pajamas, an oversized St. Ambrose University sweatshirt, and fleece socks striped like rainbows. “Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.” He took my hand and pulled me out on the porch, so close that our bodies touched.

My insides went all soft and warm and fluttery, like they always did anytime I was close to Micah. I breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne, wanting to commit it to memory. We had reached that point in our relationship where being apart was physically painful. I wasn’t looking forward to being separated from him.

“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now,” he whispered.

“I think I do,” I said.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, the warmth of his breath tickling my neck. “If I start, I’m not sure I’d know how to stop.”

“Me neither.”

He stepped away and jerked his head toward his car idling in the driveway. “Let’s go.”

I laughed. “This late? Micah, we can’t go to Chicago right now.”

“We’ll go someplace else then.”

“Where?”

He paused, as if considering, then took my hand and tugged me to his car. “It’s a surprise.”

I should have guessed then. Or maybe I should have guessed the moment I saw him on my doorstep. But I was only a sophomore in college and Micah seemed too good to be true. Too good to be mine. I dug my heels into the cement, but not very convincingly. “Micah, I’m in my pajamas.”

“And you look very cute.” He opened the passenger door and swept his hand toward the seat. I scrunched my nose at him. He was acting funny. Almost giddy. I wanted to know why, but he just folded his hands behind his back and smiled.

Five minutes later, we were at the park—the one overlooking the Mississippi River. The one with an old statue, a squeaky swing set, a paint-chipped merry-go-round, and a teetertotter I never quite trusted. The first time Micah brought me, I had chipmunk cheeks and a bottle of pain meds and a mouth devoid of wisdom teeth. We sat on the merry-go-round, but we didn’t spin. It was the first time Micah held my hand. The official beginning of us as a couple.

As soon as he pulled into the small parking lot, I gave him my best suspicious look. He unstrapped his seat belt and told me he’d race me to the swings. I chased after him, an excited feeling stealing through my body. An inkling—a hope—of why he was dragging me here, to this place of all places. But I pushed it away, unwilling to put expectations on the eve of his departure.

We sat in the swings, digging our feet into the gravel, listening to the
river splash against rock, talking about everything and nothing and all the stuff that fits in between as the last of the sun’s light sank deeper and deeper below the horizon. A train whistled in the distance and I looked out at the water—its surface like rippled glass reflecting the sky.

When I turned around, Micah was no longer in the swing beside me. He was kneeling on one knee, a small velvet box opened in his palm. I released the rusted metal chains and my hand moved to my chest. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked from the ring to Micah, the ring to Micah, the ring to Micah. “Is that …?”

He nodded.

It was my mother’s. I hadn’t seen it since the day she died. I assumed it was still with her.

“Your dad thought you might want it someday.”

My chest flooded with joy. So, so much joy. But sadness too. Because I wanted my mother to be there for that moment. A moment we used to talk about together, when I was a little girl. I wanted to race home and tell her all about this man who made my heart do funny things. This man she didn’t know.

“I love you, Robin. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Will you be my wife?”

When I said yes, Micah slid my mother’s ring onto my finger, then came to his feet and pulled me into his arms. He swung me in a circle and kissed me as the final vestiges of twilight melted into darkness.

What happened to your finger?”

“Oh, it’s quite the story.” Robin craned her neck to look past Bethany and searched the booths of Val’s Diner.

“It looks like you amputated an appendage.”

“Dr. Dotts said it was close.”

“Who are you looking for?” Bethany stepped in front of Robin’s hopping eyes. “The guys aren’t getting here for another half-hour.”

Heat crept up Robin’s neck. She wasn’t looking for Evan or Gavin. “C’mon. Let’s sit down.” She pulled her friend to a booth in the back corner, heart thwacking her breastbone like a meat mallet, and shimmied her way into the seat facing the door. What in the world was she doing? When she called Bethany to go out to dinner, she could’ve picked Shorney’s or someplace in a neighboring town. She didn’t have to choose Val’s.

“Is something wrong with you?” Bethany asked. “You’re acting all jumpy, like the pain meds are making you loopy.”

Robin opened her menu. “The doctor didn’t give me pain meds for a cut on my finger.”

“Yeah, before we get to that, what’s with the last-minute dinner date? Don’t get me wrong. The night out is much appreciated, especially after the worst ear infection in the history of all ear infections—it was seriously awful—but usually you plan everything five months in advance.”

“I thought it would be fun. We haven’t hung out like this since Elyse was born. Who’s watching her—your mom?”

“Yes. And I keep having these horrible thoughts that she’s going to drop
her on her head or give her too much medicine.” Bethany pulled her cell phone from her purse and checked the screen. “Do you think I should call?”

“Bethany, your mom knows what she’s doing. She never dropped you or David and I’m sure she had to give you medicine when you were babies.”

Bells tinkled and the front door swung open. Amanda stepped into the restaurant, black beaded tank top hugging her curvy figure. Robin examined her own willowy arms, then looked up just in time to spot Ian. She ducked behind her menu.

Bethany’s eyebrow shot up, like two marionettes attached to an invisible string.

“When are the guys getting here?” Robin asked. “I feel bad that we haven’t had the chance to sit down with Gavin since he got back into town. I bet he took some amazing pictures in the Caribbean.”

“I just told you. Evan’s finishing up on the farm. Then he’s meeting Gavin over at his place. They should be here …” Bethany twisted around to look at the place Robin’s attention kept hopping.

Robin grabbed her wrist. “Don’t stare!”

When she turned, she wore a knowing look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“Spying? Robin, you invited me to dinner so you could spy on Amanda and Ian?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not spying on
him
.” The pronoun escaped like a disgusting word.

The invisible puppeteer tugged on Bethany’s eyebrows again.

“I’m not. Seriously.” Robin peeked over the top of her menu just in time to see Ian pull out Amanda’s chair.

“You do realize Amanda’s never going to let you live this down,” Bethany said.

Megan shuffled to the side of their table. She wore a black T-shirt with Edgar Allan Poe’s face printed on the front and tucked a frizzy flyaway behind
her ear. “What can I get for you tonight?” Her voice came out duller than usual.

“Water for me, thanks,” Bethany said.

Robin smiled. Unlike Amanda, Bethany knew the difference between real coffee and the cheap imitation. She also knew when a pot had been brewed too long. “Me too,” Robin said.

“Are you ready to order?” Megan asked.

“We’re waiting for two more.”

Megan nodded, her attention fixed on Ian and Amanda. Robin wanted to tell her to stop gaping. “Are they an item now?”

Ian looked over, as if he’d heard Megan’s question, and caught the three of them staring. Robin ducked behind her menu. Great. Now he knew they’d been talking about him. As if the man needed any more confidence. “It’s not like he’s sticking around that much longer,” Robin said. “Whatever’s going on between them won’t last.”

Bethany’s eyebrow shot up again. Robin wanted to chuck the menu at her friend’s head.

“I guess you’re right.” Megan’s shoulders deflated and she stuck her notepad in her apron. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“So tell me about that bandage.” Bethany pulled a disinfectant wipe from her purse and wiped her side of the table. “You said it was quite the story.”

“Amanda came to the café this morning to drop off payroll. When I told her I was upset about her leaving town with Ian, she told me I was taking things too personally.”

“So you took your frustrations out on your poor finger?”

“A loaf of bread. My finger just got in the way. Anyway, guess who was there to rush me to Dr. Dotts?”

“Is he sitting across the diner?”

“Yes.” Robin thumbed her ring, remembering the feel of Ian sliding it on her finger. She’d taken it to Cecile as soon as she finished work. The woman made it sparkly and new, and although dried blood no longer stuck
to the diamond, the memory remained. “I can’t believe he asked Amanda out.”

Bethany set her chin in her hand. “I like your pearl necklace.”

“Somebody really ought to tell her to be careful. I mean, she’s my accountant. As soon as Ian figured that out his eyes lit up.”

“You never wear pearls.”

“And what’s she doing dating him anyway? We’re related. Doesn’t that mean anything to her?”

“I like your shirt too. Makes your eyes really pop.”

Robin stopped her one-sided interrogation and stared at her friend. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you look extra nice tonight, that’s all.”

“Stop being weird.”

“
I’m
being weird?”

Across the diner, Ian leaned over the table and whispered something to Amanda. Robin pressed her lips together and glared at her menu.

“Remember Binky?” Bethany asked.

“Your cat?”

“Yeah. Grandpa Dan gave him to me for my thirteenth birthday.”

Megan clunked two glasses against the tabletop. Ice clashed together, splashing water over the edge. The waitress muttered something about Amanda and tight clothes and left them to their conversation.

“We used to dress her up in our old doll clothes. Remember that? Binky would sit there and purr and let us put dresses on her.”

Robin furrowed her brow.

“She used to sleep on my feet every night. Get them so toasty-warm I thought they’d melt off. And then I’d wake up and she’d be wrapped around my face. I think she was the only cat that snored.”

Bethany was acting like Robin’s great-aunt Agnes, who turned ninety-seven last week and suffered from advanced dementia. “Why are you talking about Binky?”

Bethany shook her head, a faraway, nostalgic look in her eye. “Then she ran away. And Mom found her on the road leading into the trailer park.”

Robin remembered. Somebody had flattened Binky into road kill and Bethany had been distraught. They’d shoveled the cat into an old shoe box and buried her behind Bethany’s trailer home.

“I refused to pet another cat for an entire year.”

Annoyance licked up Robin’s spine. “What’s this about? Do you want another cat or something?”

Bethany shrugged. “I was just thinking that if I did, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that.” She flipped open her menu. “It’s not like it would be disloyal to Binky or anything.”

Ian snuck a glance at Robin. Their gaze connected and she ducked behind her menu. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. She was checking up on him. If only he knew why …

“Is something funny?”

He set his elbow on the table and shifted forward in his chair. “No, sorry.” He was determined to make up for his lousy behavior last weekend. Sneaking glances at another woman would not help him accomplish his goal, despite Amanda’s Girl Scout pledge to keep things platonic.

She clasped her hands and propped them beneath her chin. “I’d love to know what you were just thinking.”

He skimmed the menu. “I was thinking about how horribly I behaved at the banquet. I’m really sorry about that.”

“You already apologized.”

“I know, but I’m still ashamed,” he said.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Be my guest.”

She pulled out a sugar packet from the condiment rack. “Were Cheryl and Jim the only reason you were distracted, or was something else going on?”

Too many something elses to count, and if he started talking about them now, their conversation would never recover. “Just stressed out about the condominiums.”

“Your dad seems to have confidence in you.”

“Yeah, well, my dad has confidence in a lot of things.”

“Like?”

“Me taking over the family business someday.”

The sugar packet crinkled in her hand. “You don’t want to?”

Ian looked around Val’s Diner and thought about Arton’s Jewelry store. The layout, the dimensions. He imagined replacing the display cases with tables and chairs, maybe a bar. “My dad is passionate about developing. That’s his thing.”