Falling for You

by Becky Wade

  No. You, Willow mouthed back and almost laughed because the exchange reminded her of herself and her sisters when they’d been little. You go! No, you! You!

  Charlotte cleared her throat. She’d yet to sample a bite of cake. “Grandma?”

  “Mmm?”

  “When I spent the night at your house the last time, I found a—a wooden box . . . in the closet of the room where I sleep. Everything inside the box . . . pictures and newspaper articles and stuff . . . is about your sister, Josephine.”

  For a prolonged moment, Melinda and Jill seemed frozen.

  “You said she died in a car accident. But she didn’t, did she? She disappeared, and nobody knows what happened to her. Right?”

  Carefully, Melinda set down her fork. “Right.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlotte swiveled in her chair. “Mom? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Oh, Char . . .” Jill’s face dimpled with concern.

  “Charlotte,” Melinda said briskly, “we have company at the moment. This isn’t the time to discuss a private family matter. We can talk about it later this afternoon.”

  “Actually,” Charlotte said, “I asked about Josephine in front of Ms. Bradford because I . . .”

  “You can call me Willow.”

  “I asked about Josephine in front of Willow because I’ve already told her about Josephine. I showed her the box and stuff.”

  Melinda and Jill’s attention swung to Willow.

  “The day we met, she brought the box with her,” Willow explained. “My advice to her was to ask the two of you about Josephine.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me about Josephine?” Charlotte asked.

  Melinda and Jill exchanged a long look. Jill adjusted her chair so that she faced her daughter more fully. “I was born three months after Josephine disappeared,” she said, in a voice that asked for understanding. “I never met her. Not once. But my entire childhood—my whole life, really—was overshadowed by speculation about Josephine. Reporters came to town on every anniversary of the day she went missing. Kids at school and their parents asked me about it. It was even worse when kids and parents didn’t ask. In those cases, I’d see them pointing and whispering.”

  “You can’t know, Charlotte, how much this affected our lives,” Melinda said.

  “We didn’t want that for you.” Jill’s heavy hair slipped forward. “When I was pregnant with you, your dad and I, and Grandma and Grandpa, decided enough was enough. We wanted you to have a chance to grow up without this sad mystery hanging over your head. Do you understand?”

  “Kinda.”

  “We stopped taking interviews,” Melinda said. “We contacted the local papers and asked them to quit reporting on the story for the sake of our family’s peace of mind.”

  “The time had come for us to simply move on with our lives,” Jill said.

  “And accept that the questions about Josephine would have to go unanswered,” Melinda finished. “We invented the part about the car accident, we did. And I’m sorry about that. But it’s most likely that Josephine is dead. That part is almost certainly true.”

  “But you don’t know that for sure,” Charlotte said. “I’m going to find out what happened to her.”

  “Honey,” Jill breathed.

  “I am. And Willow said she’d help me.”

  “You did?” Melinda asked Willow.

  “Yes, but only if that’s all right with both of you, of course.”

  Resignation settled into the grooves surrounding Melinda’s eyes.

  Charlotte ducked to pull a pen and notebook from the small backpack resting near the feet of her chair. “What can you tell me about Josephine—”

  The doorbell sounded. “Excuse me,” Melinda said, rising to answer it.

  “Saved by the bell,” Jill murmured to Willow, a self-deprecating curve on her lips.

  Moments later Willow heard the rumble of a deep male voice approaching from the interior of the house. Ominous recognition drifted through her. Oh, heavens, no.

  She looked up in time to see Melinda lead Corbin onto the deck.

  Corbin. He had on jeans, a simple gray knit short-sleeved polo, and a baseball cap.

  “Look who was able to join us,” Melinda said. She grinned as though she’d just won a match 6–0, 6–0 and brandished both hands toward Corbin.

  Willow sat stone still, a fake smile shellacked onto her face.

  Jill rushed to her feet. “Welcome! I’m so glad you could stop by.”

  “Thanks for inviting me,” he said.

  “Of course!”

  Why was he here? Willow couldn’t fathom why Melinda or Jill would have invited him to their girly lunch. She’d been under the impression that she was the guest of honor. But based on Melinda’s breathlessly smitten reaction, she wasn’t.

  “Sorry I couldn’t make it until now,” Corbin said.

  He spoke as if a pressing concern had kept him away, when he had no pressing concerns that Willow was aware of other than laying tile or painting drywall at the house he’d bought in Shore Pine. He was retired.

  “No problem,” Jill assured him. “Did you meet Willow Bradford the other day, when you took Charlotte by the inn?”

  “They’ve known each other a long time,” Charlotte announced. “They used to be boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  A blush stung Willow’s cheeks.

  “Oh.” Jill attempted a cheerful expression, but it was clear that the revelation had blindsided her. It seemed Mark hadn’t kept her fully apprised of Corbin’s dating life. Who could blame poor Mark? How was he to be expected to keep up?

  “We have plenty of food left,” Melinda said to Corbin. “It won’t take me but a minute to fix you a plate.”

  “I appreciate that, but I already grabbed lunch.”

  “Dessert, then?” Jill asked. “We just sat down to eat my mom’s chocolate cake.”

  “Yes, please. I love chocolate cake.”

  He was a very healthy eater except for his two vices: coffee and chocolate. Willow had gone out to dinner with him many, many times. In all those times, he’d never failed to order whichever dessert on the menu contained chocolate.

  Jill pulled out a chair for him at the head of the table and dashed toward the kitchen for another place setting.

  “Hello, puppy,” he said to Charlotte as he removed his hat and settled easily into his chair.

  “Greetings.”

  “Willow?” he asked.

  “Yes?” The eye contact between them sparked like voltage.

  He raised his hands and very deliberately moved them through a series of quick motions. Sign language.

  Melinda was busy slicing off an enormous wedge of cake, but Charlotte was paying close attention. “What are you doing?” she asked him.

  “Saying something to Willow in sign language.”

  “What are you saying?” Charlotte asked.

  “Nice to see you again,” he answered.

  Not likewise. How did one say that in sign language?

  “You know sign language?” Charlotte asked him.

  “No. I learned a few words this morning, because I know Willow likes it.”

  When he’d jokingly asked her if he could communicate with her via sign language the other day, she very distinctly remembered telling him no. He’d broken a ground rule on purpose. He was flouting her ground rules! Worse, he appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. He looked to be on the verge of laughter.

  “He’s attempting to be funny,” Willow said to Charlotte.

  “He does that a lot,” Charlotte said.

  “I’m not attempting anything,” he said. “I am funny.”

  Jill returned and provided Corbin with a napkin, silverware, a plate of cake, and a cup of coffee.

  “Okay,” Charlotte said loudly, calling them all back to order. “Uncle Corbin also knows about Josephine,” she told Melinda and Jill. “And he’s also agreed to help me find out what happened to her.”

 
Wait.

  What!

  Willow felt as though she’d swallowed a lemon. This was supposed to have been a project for two. Herself and Charlotte. Charlotte had refused to show the Josephine box to Corbin, or anyone else, until she’d shown it to her. Why had Charlotte changed course and welcomed him into the fold?

  “What do you mean by he’s also agreed?” Corbin asked Charlotte.

  “A few minutes ago, Willow told me she’d work with me, too.”

  Corbin regarded Willow with unpleasant surprise. “You did?”

  She nodded grimly.

  She didn’t want to see him on a frequent basis! It hurt too much. She wanted to see him on a when-hell-freezes-over basis.

  Minutes ago, she’d been thinking that she couldn’t take her “yes” to Charlotte lightly. But until now, she’d had no idea just how much that “yes” would cost.

  Her brain spun, looking for honorable ways to step aside and let Corbin and Charlotte pursue Josephine together.

  She didn’t see any ethical ways out. None.

  She’d been snared like a fish in a net.

  ———

  Corbin watched the play of emotions in Willow’s green eyes. Clearly, she hadn’t known that he’d be involved in the search, too. If she had, she never would have agreed to take part. She was realizing that she’d been trapped. And she was looking for—and not finding—a graceful way out.

  The uptight, ladylike way Willow was sitting right now reminded him of a queen. Even the dress was right—a pale green sundress with a full skirt. Her features revealed both strength and fragility; her legs were carefully crossed.

  The only thing missing was a crown.

  Just like when he’d seen her at the inn, her presence made his senses surge. His emotions were split between disliking her and liking her against his will. And his thoughts were swimming with all the ways he could tumble her off her throne.

  “Willow,” Charlotte said, “after I saw you that day at the inn, I asked Corbin if he’d look for Josephine with me.”

  “I was her backup plan,” he said.

  “And he said he would help. So . . .” Charlotte clapped twice. “Yay! Now the three of us are a team, which is like the best thing ever. I asked Mom and Grandma to invite Corbin,” she said to Willow, “because I thought it would be good for him to hear what they have to say about Josephine, too.”

  “We didn’t know that Charlotte had any ulterior motives,” Melinda said.

  “Right,” Jill agreed. “Mom and I really did think this was just lunch.”

  “It is just lunch,” Charlotte said defensively.

  “We’re going to have to talk later about springing things on people in front of others,” Jill said. “It’s not good manners.”

  Charlotte’s face fell a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been wanting to talk with you and Grandma about the box I found and decided I should do it here. With Willow and Corbin.”

  Corbin’s respect for Charlotte’s craftiness rose by a mile. Willow wasn’t the only one who’d been trapped. Charlotte had trapped her unsuspecting mom and grandma, too. And she’d trapped him into working with Willow. His little rehab partner had a future as a CIA strategist.

  “What can you tell us about Josephine?” Charlotte opened a notebook, held her pen above it, and peered at Melinda.

  Melinda’s gaze flicked uncomfortably from Willow to him to Charlotte. “What would you like to know?”

  Charlotte lifted her thin shoulders. “Maybe start with what happened when she finished college?”

  “Josephine graduated with a social work degree in 1971. She moved home to Shore Pine and got a job at a treatment center for substance abuse. Do you know what substance abuse means, Charlotte?”

  “Substance abuse means taking drugs and drinking too much and stuff.”

  “Right,” Melinda said. “Josephine was a counselor at the treatment center. She met with patients and provided support. She connected them to resources available through Child Protective Services, County Mental Health Services, and the like.”

  “Like a school counselor?”

  “Somewhat.” Melinda sipped her coffee, then set her cup carefully down. “She was a lot like you, Charlotte. Very determined. And passionate about many things. Education. Child welfare. Health care. She was known to carry signs in picket lines or participate in sit-in demonstrations. She was young and smart and involved.”

  Charlotte wrote furiously.

  Josephine sounded to him like a 1970s hippie activist. Picket lines and sit-ins had never been his thing. He preferred to write checks. Corbin took a bite of cake and looked across the table at Willow, who was staring at Melinda as if her life depended on not glancing in his direction.

  “Some of the articles in the box talked about Josephine’s husband,” Charlotte said.

  “Alan was and is a music teacher at Shore Pine High School,” Melinda said. “A friend introduced him to Josephine, and they married in 1974.”

  “Do you . . . think that Alan killed Josephine?” Charlotte asked.

  “No one knows,” Melinda answered. “There was a rumor circulating in town before Josephine’s disappearance that she was having an affair.”

  “Mom,” Jill warned. “Little ears.”

  “Not that little.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I’m going to need the facts in order to solve this case.”

  “The rumored affair was just that, Char,” Jill said. “A rumor.”

  “Who was Josephine supposedly having an affair with?” Willow asked.

  The queen had spoken. During their relationship, they’d called each other every night when they’d been apart. He’d lain in bed night after night, missing her, holding his phone to his ear, listening to that voice before falling asleep.

  “She was supposedly having an affair with a man named Keith,” Melinda said. “Keith and his wife, Paula, were in the same Sunday school class at church as Josephine and Alan. The day Josephine disappeared, she left the house to meet Paula at the park and then run errands.”

  “And did she? Meet Paula?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes. In fact, Paula was the last person to see her alive. According to Paula, Paula arranged the meeting in order to ask Josephine about the rumor. Josephine told her the rumor wasn’t true, that she and Keith definitely weren’t having an affair. Paula got teary-eyed with relief, the women hugged, and even laughed. Then Josephine went on her way.”

  “Paula could have been lying about what happened,” Corbin said.

  “Maybe,” Melinda said. “But there were two other women at the park who saw them together and they confirmed Paula’s statement.”

  “Do the police know about this?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes, Charlotte,” Melinda answered, with tired affection. “The police know everything. They interrogated Alan, Keith, and Paula because, of course, they were all suspects in Josephine’s disappearance. So was one of Josephine’s adult patients at the treatment center, who fancied himself in love with Josephine. So was a parent of one of her patients, who had a history of arrests for violent behavior.”

  “In the end,” Jill said, “the police didn’t have any evidence to tie any of the suspects to Josephine’s disappearance.”

  “What do you think happened to Josephine?” Charlotte asked Melinda.

  “She was my older sister. I’m just two years younger than Josephine, and Louise is just two years younger than me. We were all very close.” Melinda pressed her lips together.

  Everyone at the table waited in silence for her to finish.

  “I think someone killed her,” Melinda said. “The same day she vanished.”

  “Why do you think that?” Corbin asked.

  “Her car was found near the base of the Pacific Dogwood Hiking Trail. Did you know that?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “In 1981 a woman’s remains were found near that same hiking trail. That’s too big of a coincidence to ignore.”

  “Were the
remains . . . like . . . studied?” Charlotte asked.

  “Yes. The pathologist determined that they belonged to an early settler, but I don’t think that pathologist could have told a turnip from a pumpkin.”

  “Where are those bones now?” Willow asked.

  “I have no idea,” Melinda answered. “In storage somewhere? Buried? I really don’t know.”

  “DNA technology has come a long way,” Corbin said. “Nowadays, I’m pretty sure they can identify bones by matching them to the DNA of living relatives.”

  “Even bones that were found long ago?” Melinda asked.

  “I think so,” he said.

  “Have you ever provided the police with a DNA sample?” Willow asked Melinda.

  “No. No one’s ever asked me to. We really did walk away from all of this twelve years ago. I . . . Where would I go to give a sample?”

  “I’m not sure,” Willow answered. “But I can do some checking and find out.” The breeze stirred through her hair and made Corbin remember a time when he’d had the right to run his hands through her hair and kiss her.

  He was an idiot.

  “I’ll give my DNA,” Charlotte offered.

  “No,” Melinda said. “If anyone’s going to give it, it will be me. I have the closest genetic link to Josephine.”

  “Okay.” Charlotte continued to write in the notebook. “We’ll figure out how you can give DNA. And then we’ll try to find out what happened to the bones that were found near the trail.”

  “It sounds like we have a plan,” Corbin said.

  Willow appeared dazed. She still wasn’t looking at him. He’d have plenty of chances now to break all her rules. And she’d have plenty of chances to screw him up in the head.

  Again.

  “We have a plan,” Charlotte said. She smiled widely at him and then at Willow. “Thank you guys so much. We have a plan!”

  Birthday card inside wooden box:

  Happy 26th, Jo!

  I’m committed to being the best husband I can be. I don’t want anything in this world as much as I want to make you happy. Have I told you how happy you make me often enough? I hope so. You make me extremely happy, Jo.

  I wouldn’t be able to live or breathe without you. You’re my wife. My life.