by Donna Alward
“Willow’s a fantastic cook,” Hannah said. “I eat at the café more than I should because it’s so tasty.”
Moira took the bowl from Willow’s hands. “Thank you, this is lovely. Have a seat, Willow, wherever you can find one.” She grinned. “Our family dinners are generally a bit unruly. You take what you can get, kind of like musical chairs.”
Willow found a chair near the end of a patio table that was pushed against another to form one big dining area. As she sat down, Ethan gave a brief nod that was barely a courtesy. And it was just her luck that she’d chosen the only empty seat at the table, which was directly across from him.
“Ah, the instigator,” she said, trying to lighten things.
“Instigator?” he looked up, his brows pulling together. When he looked directly at her, she realized how blue his eyes were, like the sky on a clear winter’s day. And sad. She reminded herself of her vow to be positive, and smiled at him.
“The worm.” She leaned over and whispered it. “Your son gave you up.”
He smiled … if she could call it a smile. His lips curved up a little, but it looked like it pained him.
Willow sat back in her chair. Those poor boys. She wondered if they ever had any fun. Hannah’s description didn’t seem to fit at all. Right now she highly doubted that he’d had anything to do with the worm in the glass.
“I thought Gram and Gramp were coming?” Hannah asked, reaching for her water glass.
“They’re going to try to make it for cake,” John replied. “Apparently they decided to play another nine holes.”
“Of course they did,” Rory said, chuckling. He looked at Willow. “Our grandparents are big golfers. As soon as the club opened for the season, they dusted off their clubs and started up again.”
Claire nodded. “Well, they finally started using a cart rather than walking the entire course.”
“Only when they do eighteen instead of nine,” Rory said. He looked at Willow and his eyes twinkled at her. “I hope I’m that spry when I’m in my seventies.”
“Rory, put your bedroom eyes away,” Hannah instructed.
His face went blank with surprise. “What’d I do?”
Everyone laughed … including Willow, who wasn’t quite sure what to make of everything. Even the wedding hadn’t been this chaotic, but it had been a casual barbecue, not a big family meal. It gave her a definite pang of loneliness, and real regret that she’d never had any brothers or sisters or even grandparents to share in this kind of banter. She tried to live a life of gratitude, but right now she was feeling left out—an odd sensation considering she was anything but alone.
The chatter grew to a deafening level, but then John took over the situation and everyone quieted.
“Okay, you circus, let’s say grace.”
Everyone bowed their heads. Once more Willow was surprised. People still said grace these days? She peeked over at Ethan. He’d bowed his head slightly and his sandy lashes lay on his cheeks as he closed his eyes. Further down the table, the boys shut their eyes so tightly they squinted, and Willow hid a smile as she bowed her head, too.
“Dear God, thank you for bringing us all together, and for Hannah, who is nearly thirty and still hasn’t brought home a husband. Maybe you can help in that regard. Bless our boys, and our grandsons, and our other daughters. Thank you for bringing us a guest tonight and bless Moira for cooking this great-smelling meal. Amen.”
When heads were raised, Willow caught Hannah glaring at her dad. “Really? You pulled the ‘you’re not married’ thing into grace?”
John reached for the ham platter and arched an eyebrow at his daughter. “You ever hear of divine intervention?”
That started some good-natured ribbing around the table, and Willow was able to sit back and remain an observer, which suited her just fine for the time being. Dishes were circulated, and she put a little of everything on her plate: a small slice of baked ham, though she didn’t tend to eat much pork these days, and a spoonful of creamy mashed potatoes, along with honeyed carrots and minted peas. She looked around at everyone else and noticed that other than Hannah, no one had taken much bean salad, and she wondered if it wasn’t quite “traditional” enough for Hannah’s family. When it came to her, she added a good spoonful to her plate and then rounded it all off with Caesar salad.
If there was cake later she was going to be very, very full.
She looked up and caught Ethan watching her.
“Your kids are really cute,” she said, attempting a smile. You couldn’t go wrong complimenting one’s children, could you?
“Thanks.” He looked down the table at where they sat on either side of their grandmother. “They really love being here.”
“It looks like your parents enjoy having them.”
“Good thing. They’re here a lot.”
There was a bitterness in his voice Willow couldn’t mistake. She didn’t know how to reply, either. So she looked down at her plate and speared a golden circle of carrot.
“Sorry,” he offered after a moment. “I have to work tonight. I feel guilty a lot of the time, relying on my family to watch the boys so much.”
Ah, so that was it. “I’m sure they don’t mind.” Hannah had said that they all helped out. “That’s what families are for, right?” Not like she’d know. Her singular experience with family was looking after herself. Some single moms did a great job raising their kids, but hers hadn’t. Hers hadn’t been home long enough to worry about it.
“They say they don’t mind.” He looked beside him at Claire. She was busy talking to Hannah about apartment listings in town and wasn’t paying any attention to Ethan. “I do, though.”
She smiled, and this time it was genuine. “It’s not a bad thing to feel responsible for your kids. Sometimes, though, you just have to accept that life isn’t perfect and do what you can, you know?”
His blue gaze bored into her again. “I’m more of a find-a-solution guy.”
She shrugged. “Well, in my experience, people tend to be one of two things. Either they’re really oblivious, or they overthink things. You don’t strike me as the oblivious type.”
“Meaning I overthink?” His voice was sharp and his gaze hard. “Maybe I do. I mean, I’m responsible for two little boys who lost their mother. I’m a fireman, so I can’t really zone out during the job or someone could get killed. I guess I’m okay with being an overthinker.”
Oh God. She’d totally just put her foot into her mouth. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean it to sound like a criticism.” She zipped her lip and focused on her dinner plate, confounded by a slight stinging behind her eyes. What the heck? How did Ethan Gallagher have the ability to make her feel so small and inadequate? She’d dealt with those sorts of feelings years ago.
After a few moments of awkward silence, she exhaled slowly and lifted her chin, determined to move past the moment. She watched, curious, as he took a bite of potato.
He looked up, and his blue gaze locked with hers. “This is a bit philosophical for dinner, don’t you think?”
She smiled weakly. “We did get off on the wrong foot, didn’t we?” Her throat tightened. “Hannah told me about your wife. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“What do you do for fun, Willow?”
The question was totally a deflection off himself and put the focus on her. It was the kind of move that said, talking about my wife is off limits. There was something about the way he said Willow, too, that rode on her nerves just a little bit. Like her name was something to laugh at. She was trying, for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t her fault he seemed to take everything personally. “That change of subject wasn’t subtle at all,” she pointed out.
He did smile then, a genuine one, and she blinked at the transformation in his face. Holy bananas, he had a great smile. Why didn’t he use it more often?
“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” he said.
Her lips twitched as relief rushed through her. Maybe she was forgive
n? “Touché. Okay, what do I do for fun? Not that I have a lot of spare time, with the café and all, but I like to garden. Laurel’s been great at getting me into some new things, like edible flowers. And I’m big on yoga and meditation. I’m staying in the apartment above the café, and it has a great south-facing window. I’ve made it into a yoga corner.” A bit more relaxed now, she scooped up some peas. “What about you? What do you do for fun?”
“Not much. When I’m not working, I spend my time with the boys.”
“And is that fun?”
He hesitated, looked at her intently. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Like playing soccer the other day? Because you didn’t look like you were having much fun then.”
He picked up his knife and cut a piece of ham. “I’d worked the night shift, and hadn’t slept. I picked up the boys instead, and took them to the Green. By the time I saw you, I had a monster headache.”
“Oh.”
“Hannah’s told you all about my situation, I suppose.”
“Briefly. And I am sorry, Ethan.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t know what to say to him after that, and it seemed they’d brokered a very tenuous peace, so she made a point of participating in the dinner conversations around the table. It was easy to see that Aiden was the joker of the group, Rory was steady and calm, and the twins were the youngest and got teased the most. Connor sat up and ate heartily, clearly enjoying the ham and potatoes and carrots, though he only picked at a few peas. Ronan, on the other hand, was younger, and after he’d eaten a bit he got down from his booster seat and went over to his dad, crawling up on his lap. She watched surreptitiously as Ethan curled his arm around the boy and settled him securely, finishing his meal one-handed.
Ronan, she thought, was probably three, though judging from his size, she thought he might be getting close to four. He rested his cheek against Ethan’s shirt, against his father’s broad, hard chest. Clearly he felt safe there, and Willow’s heart melted a little as Ethan worked at cutting a piece of ham with the side of his fork since he didn’t have a free hand for a knife. He could have insisted that Ronan return to his seat, or shifted him so he had both hands. But he didn’t. He held his son close even though it was inconvenient.
* * *
Hannah leaned over and murmured in Willow’s ear. “Ronan’s a sweetheart. Connor’s all go-go-go, but Ronan’s a snuggler.”
“I can tell,” Willow said, smiling a little. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing the little boy had lost his mother. What had she been like? Did the boys remember her?
“So how do you like being back in Darling, Willow?” John’s voice rose above the rest of the chatter. “I understand from Hannah that you went to school with this bunch.”
She turned away from the sight of Ethan and his son. “I like it a lot.” She considered her answer, because she didn’t talk about the past much. “I think sometimes you don’t really appreciate home until you’ve been away from it for a while. And I love running the café. That’s a dream come true.”
“Where were you before?” This question came from Moira.
“Florida.” She smiled. “In Clearwater, not far from the beach.”
Rory wiped his mouth with his napkin. “And what did you do there?”
She put down her fork. “Well, I did a bit of everything, I suppose.” She was very conscious that she hadn’t gone to college or gained some sort of degree. “I waitressed, and I picked up hours at an ice cream parlor on the waterfront in the summers, and I volunteered a lot.” She smiled, missing it a bit. “And I taught a yoga class once a week.”
Claire sat up. “You do yoga?”
She nodded, focusing on Claire though she was constantly aware that Ethan’s eyes were on her. “I have since I was a teenager. I started holding classes a few years ago, once I got my certification.”
“I suppose you’re really bendy,” Rory commented, which earned him an elbow from Caitlyn. Willow just laughed. Rory was charming, but definitely not her type. He was a little too charming for her taste. She tended to gravitate toward men with a little more … depth.
And she noticed Ethan didn’t join in the laughter at Rory’s suggestive comment, either. For some reason she felt warm all over.
“I focus on meditation a lot,” she admitted, happy to share. Practicing mindfulness had literally saved her life, and she couldn’t imagine her day without practice, both spiritual and physical. “I know some people joke about me being zen, but finding inner peace is life changing.”
The table went a little more quiet, and she wondered briefly if she’d overshared. Ethan stared at his plate, pushing a pea around with his fork.
“I took a few classes once and really liked it,” Claire said, starting up the conversation again. “But all the classes I’d like to take here are during the day, when I’m at work or school. The only ones offered in the evenings are yin or hot.”
“Princess here doesn’t like to get too sweaty,” Aiden commented, and Claire gave him a dirty look.
Willow nodded. “Yin is nice. Personally, I’m more of a flow person. You should come by sometime. We can do something together.”
“Maybe I will.” She smiled, but Willow was certain Claire wouldn’t take her up on it. Taking a few yoga classes at a studio wasn’t the same as a one-on-one yoga session in someone’s home.
Aiden and Rory started in teasing the twins again, and Willow looked at Hannah. “Is it always like this?” She laughed, enjoying the ribbing that was happening between the siblings.
Ethan spoke up. “Don’t worry. When the chips are down, we have each other’s backs.”
Willow looked over at him, and saw that a tiny smile tipped up his lips just a bit. So the ogre did know how to smile.
“We sure do,” Caitlyn said, and Aiden nodded.
The table quieted after Ethan spoke, until Moira pushed away and started gathering plates. “All right, let’s make room for cake.”
Everyone got up to help, but when Willow pushed out her chair, Hannah stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Not you. You’re a guest.” With a smile Hannah took Willow’s plate and stacked it on her own. She reached across and took Ethan’s, too. “I’ll bring you your piece,” she said softly. “You have your hands full.”
Ronan had nodded off in the warmth of his father’s arms. His dark head drooped against Ethan’s shirt, his lips relaxed in sleep.
“Thanks, Han.” His voice was warm and low, and slid over Willow’s nerve endings like melted butter.
“Extra scoop of ice cream?”
He smiled up at her. “You know it.”
Willow looked over at him. When he forgot to be grouchy, his face relaxed into something far more pleasing. Almost … gentle. The silence stretched out until he finally spoke.
“So. Yoga and meditation. Sounds pretty touchy-feely.”
She chuckled. “Maybe. It grounds me, though. Keeps me calm, gives me peace.”
“Oh yeah? Some deep breathing and chanting keeps you calm in the middle of a muffin crisis? Inner peace in the face of a kitchen emergency? Sounds more like avoiding the real world to me.”
“Maybe that’s because the real world’s been unkind to you. It can be hard to grasp the concept of inner peace when you’re going through hard times.” She smiled to soften the deeply personal words. It was clear Ethan did not like talking about his pain, but Willow knew talking about the things that hurt the most was the only way to move past them. “You could benefit from some ‘deep breathing and chanting,’ as you called it.”
He gave a dry laugh. “Seriously, Willow. What would you know about it? Look at you, with your—what—hand-painted shirt and pink hair and nose ring and … you probably will go home and cleanse your aura or something. Maybe all that inner peace is easy to achieve when your life hasn’t been torn apart.”
He kept his voice down; the clatter of dishes could be heard through the screen door. But there was a harshness to his words that
bit into her, making her both sympathetic and defensive. She tried to see it from his perspective. From the outside, Willow knew it probably looked as if she had it all together. His words said far more about his view of himself rather than his opinion of her. It made her feel even more sorry for him, rather than angry.
“You don’t know anything about my life,” she said, gently correcting him. “My lifestyle isn’t for everyone, nor do I expect it to be. But I’ve had my share of hard times, Ethan. And for all your protests, I don’t think I’ve met anyone in my life more in need of some serenity than you.”
She got up from the table, her stomach churning a little bit from nerves. She hated conflict, and rarely had to deal with it. But Ethan had lashed out and despite trying to understand, his judgment still stung. She wasn’t sure why. She didn’t even like him.
But it was maybe because she recognized his pain, felt sorry for him, understood what it was like to feel like your life was totally out of your control. Compassion, she realized. That was what she felt for Ethan, even though he’d barely been civil both times they’d met. Knowing his history and seeing the way he snuggled his son made her compassionate.
No matter how much he criticized her, that capacity for compassion was something she was proud of. She wasn’t about to let him take it away. It had taken a lot of work for her to get to a place of not just self-acceptance, but self-love.
“I’m going to check on the cake,” she said quietly, and went toward the house. She took a deep, cleansing breath before opening the sliding door, then stepped inside with a smile on her face. “What can I do to help?”
CHAPTER 3
The house had cleared out and Ethan was helping his mom dry the last of the dishes before he had to put the boys to bed and head to work.
He felt a bit like an ass. He hadn’t exactly been friendly to Hannah’s guest, even though Willow had been nothing but pleasant. She seemed to know how to push his buttons, and that irritated him. He’d been downright rude, which was unlike him. It was just … He sighed heavily. He looked at her and saw what he wished he had. She was happy. Not just on the surface. He could tell she was really, truly happy, and he had all but forgotten how that felt.
