by Wendy Vella
Buster carried a tray over and placed it on their table. “Here you go, Moonbeam. Pour your family their tea.”
She gave him a fierce scowl that he answered with a smile.
“Will you join us, Buster?”
“He has to work, Jade.”
Buster shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I have a few minutes, and I’d love to meet your family.”
She glared at him again.
“Willow and I knew each other in New York,” he went on. “She came into my café every day.”
“The Gryphon Café?”
“That’s right. Have you been there?” he said to Jade.
“No, but Willow told me about it in an email once. She said the food was the best she’d ever tasted and that the men working there were—”
“No!” Willow clapped a hand over her sister’s mouth. “You don’t need to add the rest.”
Jade’s eyes twinkled. Buster knew she’d been teasing her sister, and that in some way Willow had referred to him in that email. Immediately, he wanted to know the details.
“She talked about my café? I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be,” Willow said. “I talk about a lot of the places I visit.”
“But did you go to them every day for a year and order the same thing?”
She gave him another scowl. Buster was only teasing her, trying to get her to smile, but it didn’t seem to be working. Surely when the shock had passed, she’d be happy her family were here.
“Moonbeam!”
All eyes turned to the door, where a small woman was standing. Short, with long, jet black hair, she was dressed in a floral skirt with a thick blue shawl draped around her body.
“My babies are together again!”
Willow stumbled to her feet, her body braced as the woman hurried toward her. Arms wrapped around her, and she was hugged. Her cheeks were then cupped, and kisses were rained over Willow’s face.
“Look at you, Moonbeam, no color,” the woman scolded.
“Amelia, this is Buster Griffin.” Willow pulled out of the woman’s arms. “Buster, this is Amelia, my mother.”
She came around the table to Buster, who’d gotten to his feet, and kissed his cheek. He was used to people who hugged and kissed, so it was no big deal for this woman to do the same, but he could tell Willow was uncomfortable. In fact, she looked mortified.
“Nice to meet you, Amelia. You take a seat here beside your girl Moonbeam, and I’ll get another cup for you.”
“I’ll get it!” Willow leaped to her feet and was halfway to the kitchen before he could react.
“So, it’s been a while since you’ve seen your daughter, then?” Buster said, deciding to pump for some information before Willow returned.
“Yes, she chose to make her life separate from ours many years ago,” Amelia said. “We’ve tried to bring her home, but as you can see, she’s now very different from the girl who grew up in a commune.”
Buster was still struggling to wrap his head around the fact that Willow had grown up there. “Who was born first?” he asked Jade.
“Willow’s older by a handful of minutes, and we’re pretty different in every way.”
“I can see that,” Buster said.
“She wasn’t suited for our lifestyle, no matter how hard we tried to make it so,” Shane said, looking to the kitchen, his eyes sad. “She hated so many parts of it.”
“So she’s always been—”
“I’m sure the word you’re looking for is ‘uptight’.” Jade’s laugh held no humor. “No, she was always quiet and cautious, craving rules and normality, but she wasn’t as she is today until she left the safety of our life.”
Buster thought that was an interesting way to put it, and wondered again what an innocent sixteen-year-old who’d been raised in a commune had experienced when she stepped out into the big wide world.
“I didn’t realize she had friends here in Lake Howling. We had no idea she’d been here before,” Amelia said.
“She hasn’t. Howlers just force themselves on people and rarely take no for an answer,” Buster said. “Your daughter’s a lovely woman and easy to befriend,” he added, realizing he meant ever word.
They talked for a few minutes and still Willow had not returned, so he excused himself and went to find her. Her hands were braced against a countertop in the kitchen, in a pose he’d used a time or two. Her head was lowered between her shoulders.
“Cups are to the left on the shelf.”
“Okay, sure. I’ll be right out.” She straightened up and headed for the shelf.
“You all right?”
“Yes. It’s just a surprise to see them.” Her voice sounded off, like her throat was dry and it was a struggle to speak.
“When did you last see them?” Buster asked after she’d retrieved a cup. She still hadn’t looked at him.
“We talk.”
“Physically see them. In the flesh.” Buster persisted.
“Seven years ago.”
“Seven years.” Buster whistled.
“Don’t you dare judge me, Buster Griffin!” She turned on him then, eyes blazing.
“I just said ‘seven years,’ Willow, nothing more.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, dropping her eyes.
“What’s the deal with you and them, Moonbeam?”
“Don’t call me that,” she said. “Ever.”
“It’s a pretty name, and it suits you, but if you don’t want me to use it, I won’t.”
He watched her inhale a couple of deep breaths and then suddenly she’d closed herself off again. Her features were blank, and she was the contained and collected businesswoman, although this time, Buster was pretty sure he saw a few exposed edges just begging to be peeled back.
“It must be hard living away from your twin.”
“We’re different people,” she said. “Now about the offer, Buster. Can I drop it off tomorrow morning, just before I leave? I don’t have time now to go over it.” Her fingers clenched around the handle of the cup she was holding. “If you can take a look at it then, I can make any adjustments, and we can finalize things by email from New York.” Her eyes were on the move, looking at the doorway behind him then back at the cup, fingers fanning.
“I thought you weren’t pressuring me.”
“I’m not, but I’d like you to at least look at it before I leave town.”
“How come you’re leaving suddenly, when Macy told me you were staying for a few days?”
Her breathing was labored. He could see the rise and fall of her breasts even as she struggled to remain composed. “Because I have to go.” She walked toward him, and just as she passed he grabbed her. “Let me go,” she complained.
“You need to slow that breathing down, there, New York, or you’ll pass out.” Buster pulled her in front of him, then wrestled the cup from her hands.
“I need to take that to her.”
“‘Her’ being your mother.”
“Amelia.”
“You don’t call her Mom?”
She shook her head before looking up at him.
“Did they beat you?”
“What?” She wrinkled her nose and Buster felt a need to kiss it but restrained himself. He wasn’t the nose-kissing type, or so he’d always believed.
“Your folks. Did they treat you badly? Is that why you stay away from them?”
“No.” She stepped back from him. “Of course not. It’s just that we lead different lives.”
But something else had made her stay away from them. Buster would bet his new juicer on that.
“I need to go make sure Billy is okay.”
Buster let her go this time. He grabbed the cup, then followed. When he arrived the Harper family were all talking at Willow, and she looked like a deer in the headlights. He stayed at the counter watching as he served a few customers. She took Billy out of his chair when he started protesting about being still for so long, and sat with him on her lap, cuddlin
g him close to her chest.
Buster heard snatches of the conversation as he put coffee in front of his customers.
“How many of you are here?” Willow asked.
“Five RVs. They’ll all be glad to see you, Moonbeam.”
She winced. Her father lifted a hand to touch his daughter’s head, then lowered it as Willow eased away. She then stood with Billy in her arms.
“I need to get Billy back to his mother. I’ll catch up with you all later.”
“Can’t you spend a few more minutes with us?” Jade asked.
“I’ll come by later and see you, okay?”
Her family nodded, their faces solemn. She was nearly running when she reached Billy’s stroller.
“Want some help with those?” Buster said as she attempted to buckle the boy in. Her fingers weren’t cooperating.
“I’ve got it.”
“They’re your family, Willow. And from what you’ve told me, you don’t bear them a grudge, so why the hell are you running?” Buster kept his voice pitched low so her family, who were watching, couldn’t hear.
“We’re different. I-I don’t know what to say to them now.”
“Sure you do. ‘Hi, what’s been happening in the last seven years?’ I’m sure they’ll take it from there.”
Her eyes were wide and desperate as she looked at him. “You don’t understand them or me, so just stay out of this, please.”
He ran a finger down her cheek as he worked through that comment. “Make me understand.” He wondered why the hell he was involving himself in this conversation when emotional stuff usually made him itch.
“I’m not like them. I never was, and they can’t understand that. They want more from me than I can give…especially Jade.”
“What do they want from you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She grabbed the handle of the stroller and started maneuvering it to the door. He reached it first and opened it wide. “Thank you,” she muttered. She was vulnerable, and Buster felt the look she gave him all the way down to his toes.
“Hey, no biggie.” He touched her cheek again. “You okay to get him back to Macy, or you need company?”
“I’m good, thanks.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I just haven’t seen them for a while.” She nodded toward the café. “It came as a shock.”
He’d bet his triple pecan brownie recipe that there was more to her reaction than just plain shock.
“I’ll drop off the offer in the morning on my way out of town, okay?”
“Shame to leave before you’re ready.”
Her eyes went to the café before returning to his. “I have to get back to New York now. There’s work piling up that needs my attention.”
“Funny how it only piled up the last half hour.”
Her beautiful eyes flared. “Leave it alone, Buster.”
He lifted both hands. “Hey, you don’t have to ask me twice. I hate the emotional stuff. Anything to do with baring my soul makes me nauseous.”
She didn’t smile, just pushed the stroller away, and Buster had the feeling that if he hadn’t been watching, she would be running down the street by now.
CHAPTER NINE
Willow couldn’t breathe. Inhaling, she tried to suck in enough air to ease the burning sensation in her lungs as she made her way back to Macy’s shop. Her family was here in Howling, and she’d just run out on them.
“I’m unraveling, Billy,” she told the boy as they crossed the street.
The anger she’d felt at seeing her father and sister had shocked her. How could she still feel resentment toward them for her childhood, when she was no longer an innocent sixteen-year-old, but a mature woman who lived her life and made her own decisions?
She realized that was the result of boxing everything up inside her head, all the anger and pain, and not dealing with it. Seeing her family again had made it resurface.
Buster would think she was crazy. How could he not? She’d just walked out on her family, and his head must be full of questions, especially considering she’d gone there to show him the offer, and had walked out without doing so.
She could feel the partnership slipping from her grasp and with that her apartment, but she wasn’t as worried as she should be. What concerned her more was her state of mind, and getting rid of this other woman who had taken up residence inside her body. Suddenly she had rebellious thoughts and was questioning herself and everything she had always stood for.
What did it matter to her that Buster’s mother had baked alongside him in the Gryphon? But it did, she realized. It mattered a lot to her, and that was why she’d said what she had to him this morning—because she was feeling guilty about pushing him into looking over the contract.
She’d be collecting cats and wearing homespun again if she didn’t get a grip.
She needed to get back to the cabin and pack her things, then tomorrow morning she’d be ready to go. She would visit with her family before leaving, and they’d be happy with that. Then she could go back to her life and leave them to theirs. She could forget Lake Howling, Buster Griffin, and his friends. She had to go before whatever was happening to her took hold and changed her beyond recognition.
“Hey, Willow.”
If she’d seen them before they saw her, she would have ducked into a shop. But it was too late, so instead she forced a smile onto her face.
“Hey, Branna, Annabelle.” Lifting a hand, Willow hoped that would be enough acknowledgment for the women, and she could keep walking. Her heart sank when they stopped in front of the stroller.
“Hey, big boy,” Annabelle cooed, bending to talk to Billy.
“We just saw Macy and now we’re heading to The Hoot for a coffee, and thought we’d see you there,” Branna said. “I need something to fortify me before I go to the clinic.”
“For God’s sake, it’s just a checkup, Bran. Don’t be such a baby.”
Willow remembered hearing about Branna O’Donnell’s fear of doctors when Jake and Annabelle had treated her burn.
“I don’t like anything medical,” the Irish woman said defensively in response to her friend’s words.
“But you must know that any of the people who treat you here in Lake Howling would rather hurt themselves than you,” Willow said softly. “From what I can see, they all love you very much.”
Annabelle straightened at her words, her gaze shooting from Branna to Willow.
Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? She had no right to offer an opinion about this. The old Willow would never have interfered. “Sorry. I had no right to say that. I’m sure your fears are justified. Please forget I said anything.”
“No,” Branna said. “No, it’s okay, really, and you’re right. I just never thought about it that way before.”
“Oh, well, then,” Willow said, because she didn’t know what else to say. She let out a squeak as Annabelle crushed her in a hug.
“I like you, Willow Harper, so tonight you’re coming to The Howler to celebrate my birthday.”
“Oh, no.” Willow shook her head. “Really, Annabelle, I’m leaving—”
“I won’t take no for an answer. It’s my birthday, and it would be extremely rude of you to refuse. Jake and Branna will pick you up at six.”
She was left standing in the street watching the two elegant figures walk away from her. How the hell could she get out of tonight’s entertainment, and why hadn’t she just said no in a loud, clear voice?
Her life seemed to be spiraling out of control. She needed to get back to New York now, before she did something foolish like leaving real estate to start drawing for a living.
Walking into Macy’s shop, she found the woman finishing up.
“Hey there, Willow, and the most beautiful little boy on the planet.” Macy planted a loud, smacking kiss on Billy’s cheek, which made him laugh. “So I have a few things I think will suit you for tonight.”
“What?” Willow felt like a dog scrabbling to get a secure foothold on a slippery
floor. “How do you know I was invited to Annabelle’s birthday?”
“She told me if I saw you to invite you, but since you probably ran into her and Branna on their way to The Hoot, I thought she must have asked you.”
“She did,” Willow said, knowing that Macy’s answer was justified. She was just feeling irrational.
“So, I thought this would suit you.” Macy was heading to the back of the little shop, where she proceeded to rummage through a rack of clothes. “I have a ton of stuff out back, but when I was hanging these up, I thought of you.”
“Macy, I have clothes, really. I don’t need anything new. Besides, I’m not sure I want to go tonight.”
Ignoring her, Macy continued to rummage, and when she found what she wanted she turned. Her gaze went to Willow, then she stopped, lowering the garments onto a countertop. “What’s happened?”
Macy didn’t touch her. Instead, she came to stand close, and the compassion on her face almost made Willow cry.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Something’s happened, and not a good something. I can read it in your eyes. You’re upset. Tell me why?”
Willow didn’t know Macy’s story, but from the way her friends protected and cared for her, she believed it was a bad one. Whatever had happened, it hadn’t stopped her from being a generous, caring woman, capable of a great deal of love. Had the suffering made her that way?
“I, no, really. I’m fine.” Willow felt a tightness in her throat as the tears and emotions gathered, begging for release.
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh, God,” Willow dropped her head and tried to battle back the emotion. “M-my family… They’re here in Howling, and I don’t want to see them.”
Macy didn’t speak; she just grabbed a handful of Kleenex and led Willow to a chair. After she’d lowered her into it, she left to get Billy out of his stroller.
As she cried, Willow heard Macy crooning softly to the boy. They weren’t loud, violent tears, but soft, scalding hot ones, and with every one that fell she felt relief. She hadn’t cried for years, not even when her supposed friends had stolen her money and left her on the streets with nothing. She hadn’t shed a tear since that day sixteen years ago when she’d walked away from her family.
