Willow

by Donna Lynn Hope

  But Jericho was so different than Anne. Jericho was rough around the edges whereas Anne was elegant and refined. I looked at Anne’s face and wanted nothing more than for her to be happy.

  “Life is too short to wait for what you want to come to you,” I began. “I know you’re not comfortable making the first move but you could at least try and get his attention.” I giggled in remembrance. “When I was little and I liked a boy, I would bake him cookies or brownies. I always seemed to get what I wanted when food was involved. Maybe you could bring him cupcakes.”

  It was Anne’s turn to laugh. “Maybe...You know something Willow; you’re pretty wise for your age…for any age actually.” Her face was solemn.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not. I just know that fear and pride keep people from really living.”

  “Like I said, wise…you’re an old soul, like your dad.” Anne put her arm around me and patted my back and I was surprised that for the first time where she was concerned, I didn’t shirk from the intimacy.

  Chapter 11

  The following morning Pandora’s whining woke me up but I was stretched out under three layers of blankets and wasn’t ready to get out of bed. I moaned and opened my eyes to see a light frost on the windowpane. I looked over at Pandora who was sitting on her haunches, waiting patiently. My irritation melted away as I looked into her eyes. “Okay, I’m coming,” I assured her.

  I threw off the covers and groaned as I felt the sudden shock of cold air. I grabbed my pink robe and pulled it on over my white t-shirt. My feet found their way into some slippers and I followed Pandora who was wagging her tail. As I followed her I twisted my messy mop of hair into an untidy bun and secured it with a band. Anne was still sleeping, like I should have been. I opened the door to let Pandora out and then I went to the bathroom. After washing my hands I figured I could start Anne’s coffee before taking my shower. I rummaged through the pantry until I found the pumpkin spiced coffee that she loved so much. I began measuring and poured the water into the pot. I leaned against the counter and watched as the dark stream began to fall and with it I inhaled the spicy aroma. I grabbed a sticky bun from the counter where Anne had conveniently left them on a covered plate. I was licking the frosting from my fingers when I noticed a form pass by the window and then I heard the knock. Oh no.

  I argued with myself on whether to ignore it by pretending no one was home when Anne shouted from the bedroom, “Willow, will you get that please?”

  “Uh, okay…” I answered as I tried to wipe the glaze off my lips. With one hand holding the remains of my sticky bun and with the other I opened the door to see Haven standing there looking at me. He was wearing a black turtleneck and a black riding jacket which complimented his coloring. I stood there embarrassed, irritated even, and wondered if I should close the door in his face. Amused, he politely looked me over. “May I come in?”

  I held the door open for him but tried to keep my distance since I was positive I didn’t smell nearly as good as he did. There was something about his scent. I couldn’t get enough of it. As he passed by me and turned around I sighed. “You’re timing couldn’t be better.”

  “You did say 10, right?”

  “Oh, it’s 10 already?” I stammered. Without warning, Pandora pushed in the back door, which I hadn’t completely closed, and came charging towards Haven. Her growls were low and furious. Haven stood there and didn’t budge an inch.

  Horrified, I dropped the rest of the sticky bun and grabbed Pandora’s collar, yanking her back as she lunged towards him.

  “Pandora, bad!” I scolded, “Don’t be rude!” Turning my head to look up at Haven I apologized. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  He was completely unaffected. “You’re lucky. No human is getting by her.”

  He turned his attention to me, making me aware once again of my less-than-ideal appearance.

  “You look cute in pink,” he remarked as he stepped closer.

  Feeling a little panicked, I backed away and towards the stairs, pulling an irate Pandora with me. “If you’ll excuse me for a few, I’m going to tie her up outside and then I’m going to shower and get dressed. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready, I should have paid more attention to the time.” I remembered the coffee and pointed, “There’s coffee if you like.”

  He casually turned his head to see where I was gesturing.

  Still holding Pandora’s collar, I walked to the back door and secured her to a line outside. She was furious and still growling. Without looking at Haven and wishing I was somehow hidden from view, I brushed past him and hurried up the stairs. When I closed the door to the bathroom I looked into the mirror with a groan. How could I have gone from the glamor of last night’s dance to this?

  I showered in a rush, lathering my body and letting the warmth of the water rinse away my worries. While the fog cleared from the mirror I ran into my room and chose an appropriate outfit: A crimson colored sweater and a dark pair of jeans. I ran back into the bathroom and determined my hair was hopeless. I twisted it and secured it with a big jaw clip, letting a few loose tendrils frame my face. Feeling somewhat presentable I walked down the stairs and heard voices coming from the kitchen. I peeked around the railing and saw Haven and Anne sitting at the bar high table talking. Anne, of course, even in her red satin robe, looked impeccable. On cue, Haven noticed me. I guessed it would be impossible to surprise the likes of him.

  “Oh Willow, you look lovely,” Anne gushed. Holding her mug up, she mouthed a thank you. As I walked closer I moaned inside. Anne had a photo album on display and was showing Haven photos of me as a little girl. He looked at me with an expression of understanding but turned his attention back to Anne who was pointing out a photo of me crying. “Look here, she was having a temper tantrum.”

  Haven chuckled under his breath.

  “Really Anne, must you?” I pleaded.

  She ignored me because she turned the page and when she did, Haven stiffened. Intrigued by what prompted his odd reaction, I leaned over to see what he was looking at. It was a black and white photo of my mother. She was wearing a white blouse and was reclining on a chaise, looking tenderly towards whoever was taking the photo, most likely my dad. Even though the lighting was dark, her long blonde hair looked like it had been spun from light. Her lips were curved, forming a soft but striking smile. It was a beautiful photo, one my dad kept in a frame on his dresser. I couldn’t imagine why it would seem to bother Haven, if that’s what his reaction was telling me. His eyes were fixated on the portrait like he was burning it to memory.

  “Haven?” I quietly prodded.

  My voice seemed to draw him from his thoughts and he drew his hands back from the photo album and placed them on his knees.

  “Excuse me,” he stated apologetically. Then, considerately looking from Anne’s face to mine he asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes…” I replied, still wondering what was wrong.

  He rose from the seat and turned to Anne, “It was nice meeting you.”

  She grinned sweetly and replied, “My pleasure.” When his head was turned she looked at me drawing in her lips as if she were whistling. I tried not to laugh.

  Once outside I noticed our ride: Haven’s black motorcycle, and then I saw that Reece had been right…the snow was already gone. Haven took my white gloved hand in his and led me to the bike.

  “We can walk to the coffee shop,” I said.

  “I thought you might like to go for a ride,” he answered as he began unfastening a helmet.

  “Is it safe?” I asked as I observed the sleek lines of the bike. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

  He paused and glanced down at me. “It’s safe. You’re with me.”

  He offered me the helmet. I took the clip out of hair and shook my head until my hair fell down in dark waves. Haven helped me adjust it but the helmet felt awkward and heavy. I was hoping Anne wasn’t watching because I wasn’t sure if she would approve.

&nbs
p; Haven fastened his own helmet, pulled on his gloves and mounted the bike. He pulled me on after him, securing my hands around his waist and into the pockets of his jacket where he told me to hang on. As he did my heart jumped. I leaned into him because I had no choice and my chest rested on his rock-solid back. I could only hope he didn’t hear the shudder of my heart as it surged with excitement. He pulled away from the curb and I began to smile.

  I was absorbed in the moment as I felt his every movement, no matter how slight. At the end of the street he made a left hand turn and began driving out of town. I felt my thighs flex and gripped him even tighter as the speed increased and when I did, I was certain I felt him chuckle as I felt the vibrations rippling through his back.

  Minutes passed and I began to relax. I lifted my head from his back and looked at our surroundings. Almost all of the leaves had fallen from their branches and a light fog had drifted across the mountains. Cows were grazing and there were a couple of horses standing still with their heads inclined towards each other. We passed a few ranches and then we were on an open road with nothing but woods and mountains surrounding us. Haven increased the speed and I looked into the trees, which were part of a vast forest and watched them merge together as we sped by. When he slowed down I very carefully peeked over his arm and looked at his strong gloved hands as they gripped the handles. Ever so slightly he turned his head until he caught a glimpse of me in his peripheral vision. I adjusted my arms around his waist and went back to watching the view, which wasn’t possible at the times that he sped up, and when he went fast enough to make me nervous I closed my eyes, but even then I couldn’t stop smiling.

  By the time we reached a bridge near roaring waters, he turned around and we headed back to Crested Butte. The cold was beginning to bother me, but Haven was sensitive to this and drew me into him again, shielding me from the bitter wind as we rode into it. Cold or not, I loved every exhilarating minute.

  He parked on Elk Avenue, close to a charming little coffee shop. I giggled as I slid off the motorcycle. My legs were shaking and my toes were numb. Haven helped me with the helmet and as he was securing both of them to the bike, I turned to look into the nearest window. I laughed as I tried fluffing my matted hair but it was pointless so I began twisting it and just as I began to reach for my pocket, Haven swiftly retrieved my clip and secured my hair in place for me.

  He reached for my hand and we stood there like statues until my thoughts returned and I pulled away from him. I didn’t know what was happening between us and for some reason, it unnerved me. He unnerved me. The feelings I had were new to me. They were both unfamiliar and captivating. I stepped away from him, torn between wanting to be with him and wanting to run. I was drawn to him but it scared me and I couldn’t figure out why.

  “You don’t need to run,” he announced, as if he were reading my mind. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I stared up at him, not wanting him to know his penetrating vision had any kind of effect on me. “I am; I’m cold, let’s go inside.”

  The coffee shop smelled of warm spices and baked goods. A large white fireplace was adding further warmth to the room and there was a red couch near it, with a coffee table centered in front. Further into the narrow shop were small tables and chairs. Paintings graced the walls and they were all for sale, each one having been painted by an amateur artist. I stopped in front of the first one that grabbed my attention. A Native American girl wearing white deerskin was sitting on a fur rug with a gray wolf resting beside her. Their harmony was matchless. They stared back at me as if they had a story to tell. I looked away from their painted faces to look at the sticker hanging from the frame. My eyes widened and before I could turn to walk away, Haven joined me. “It’s interesting that you chose this one first. It appeals to you?”

  I continued to stare but nodded. “It’s the perfect depiction of attachment…” I lifted my hand and pointed towards their eyes. “They look like they could stand up and emerge from the portrait.”

  The girl staring back at me had long dark hair that seemed to be ruffled by a light breeze. She was almost untamed in her beauty. She had a feather secured in her hair and a white choker necklace fastened to her neck. The protective wolf beside her, apparently gray at first sight, had hints of tan coloring as well. His eyes were slate gray and he appeared relaxed and content by her side.

  For the next few minutes we looked at all the paintings and then we went to the counter where we ordered chai latte’s and a couple of bagels with egg and cheese. Once more, Haven reached for his wallet before I could open my own. He handed the barista a bill and told him to keep the change. Traces of déjà vu came back to me as I remembered our very first encounter. I knew it would do no good to argue so I thanked him.

  The barista told us it would be a few minutes and to go ahead and pick out a place to sit. Haven led the way to the red couch. “Ladies first,” he said, extending his hand. I slid past him to sit near the crackling fire.

  I removed my jacket and reached for a napkin when I saw that our order was ready. The latte was still too hot to drink so I began taking bites out of my bagel while Haven observed and grinned intermittently.

  “You’re making me self-conscious,” I teased.

  “Is that all?” He questioned, continuing to chuckle.

  His confidence and charm was such that I tried not to feel out of my league while with him. He seemed much older than his years, older than me in fact and I was the one people referred to as an “old soul.” Yet, while sitting alongside him, so near that I could feel the comforting coolness of his breath, I recalled the vision of him sitting at the table with Anne, his body rigid as he looked at the photo of my mother. Curiosity got the better of me so I put my bagel down and picked up the latte. I sipped and softly asked, “Back at the house…when you and my aunt were talking-” Was I imagining that he stiffened in anticipation of what I was going to ask? “I was wondering if you were somehow bothered by the photo of my mother?”

  He brought his hands together while his elbows rested on his knees. His head was inclined and he dropped his eyes momentarily before meeting my inquisitive gaze. Instinctively, or perhaps nervously, I reached up to hold my necklace, caressing the cross between my fingers. Haven noticed and eyed the charm that I held between two fingers. “A gift?”

  I nodded and dropped my hand. “Yes, my dad gave it to me years ago...It’s real. I actually prefer silver to gold.”

  “It’s not silver though, it’s white-gold,” he informally stated while studying the cross.

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” I lifted my eyebrows and looked him in the eye. “About my mother?” I sounded more demanding than I meant to.

  He looked at me but his expression was serious. “She’s beautiful, just like her daughter.”

  I smiled and sighed. “Can you please answer the question?”

  “Your mother…” he began before I courteously interjected. “Tanith…her name

  was Tanith.”

  He looked lost in thought. “She resembles someone I knew a long time ago.”

  “Knew, as in dated?” I inquired, feeling way too nosy.

  He laughed again, looking more relaxed than before. “No, just knew…”

  The mood undulating around us was a little tense, with secrets, memories and attraction lingering in the air. I knew he was holding back but I didn’t question him further. When I glanced over at him I saw him looking in the direction of the portrait that had first captured my attention. I felt his arm extend on the back of the couch and when I put my mug down and leaned back, I felt his arm cautiously envelop me without really touching me.

  We sat together without saying anything and watched as the barista made the rounds, wiped tables and organized newspapers and magazines. He looked over at us periodically and approached us.

  “I noticed you were admiring the Grey Guardian.” He was looking at me as he spoke but glanced in Haven’s direction as a courtesy.

  “Yes, I was. Is there a s
tory behind it?”

  “I believe there is. A man who works at the bakery a couple of streets over…” He looked at me to see if I understood. When I nodded he continued. “His name is Ben and he painted that portrait. Interesting fellow that one – has a lot of talents.”

  “He must, it’s remarkable,” I said in surprise. I didn’t even know that Ben could paint, let alone so brilliantly. If he was this talented, why was he baking?

  “If you want to know the story behind it, Ben is the one to ask,” he said as he picked up my empty plate.

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure to ask him when I see him.” I knew that my visit to Ben would be sooner rather than later. I turned to Haven who had stayed silent. “I’m ready if you are,” I suggested.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” He asked as he put his hand on my elbow and helped me to stand. I didn’t need assistance but Haven’s conduct was chivalrous.

  “I would.”

  He held the door open for me and we walked into the crisp autumn air. While we strolled up the street I admired the various fall decorations on display from bales of hay to pumpkins, scarecrows and orange lights strung in trees. The chilly air was comfortable enough that we could be outside for an hour or two without needing to warm up. I stopped in front of an old bookstore with Halloween themed books stacked and propped up in the window. There were scatterings of candy corn and black plastic spiders. Fake cobwebs hung down from the nook’s ceiling.

  I heard Haven chuckle and turned my eyes to see what he was looking at. It was a book about the undead and the cover was overtly romantic, yet dark at the same time. Haven’s brows were lifted and he looked nothing if not amused.

  “Not your genre?” I teased.