Someone to Love--A Darling, VT Novel

by Donna Alward

  She got it. He didn’t like her pink streak in her hair or her nose ring or the food she ate or much about her. She was not his type. But it wound her up when someone was so … derisive. Dismissive. “Is there something wrong with daisy chains?”

  “For boys?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why not?”

  “I am not getting into this with you. I’m going to take the boys home. Thanks for watching them.”

  It did not sound much like gratitude.

  “Boys! Come on, let’s go home!”

  Both Connor and Ronan looked up at the sound of their father’s voice. “Daddy!” Connor came pelting down the path, clutching a handful of flowers, while Laurel and Ronan followed behind. Ronan also had flowers in his hand, albeit a smaller bouquet.

  Connor stopped short at the sight of his dad.

  Willow watched the emotions cross the little boy’s face. There was shock, then fear, then a guardedness that made her heart hurt.

  “Daddy?”

  Ethan erased the scowl from his face and replaced it with a smile for his son. “Hey, dude. Look what I got today.”

  “Did you break it?”

  Ethan nodded. “Yeah. Like the cast?” He rapped on it gently with his knuckles and it sounded hollow.

  Connor’s eyes were huge. “Does it hurt? Are you going to be okay?”

  Something passed across Ethan’s face, just for a moment. It looked like pain, but not the physical kind. Rather the kind of pain that burrows right into the soul. She knew why the question hurt so much. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that Ethan worried about the after-effects of Lisa’s death on his sons.

  “Of course I’m going to be okay. A shelf got knocked over and hit me just the right way, that’s all. I’ll be good as new.”

  Relief wreathed Connor’s face. “Okay.” He held out his hand. “I picked these for Aunt Hannah, but you can have them if you want.”

  Ethan smiled. “You can give them to Aunt Hannah. She loves flowers.”

  Laurel and Ronan had joined them. Willow stayed on the bench, out of the family drama. It wasn’t her place. Apparently she’d done enough damage for one day.

  Ronan came over and held up his flowers, a mixture of daisies and black-eyed Susans and cosmos. “For Wil-low,” he said, his deliberate pronunciation of her name sounding quite adorable.

  “You picked these for me?”

  He nodded, then climbed up on the bench and into her lap.

  She took the flowers into her hand and looked up at Laurel and Ethan, quite startled at Ronan’s easy acceptance of her. Laurel’s eyes looked suspiciously misty, while Ethan seemed uncertain, and still angry.

  She cradled Ronan close, loving the smell of his slightly sweaty head mixed with whatever fabric softener was used in their laundry. “Thank you, Ronan. They’re beautiful.”

  He looked up and grinned. “Now do we get ice cream?”

  She laughed. “You charmer. Did Connor put you up to that?”

  He giggled. So did Connor. And even Ethan’s expression seemed to have softened a little.

  She hugged him and laughed. “How about ice cream at my place? I keep some in my freezer for emergencies.”

  “Mmm,” Ronan answered. “Ice cream ’mergency.”

  Willow had temporarily forgotten about Ethan, and now she looked up at him. “But it has to be okay with your dad. He might really want to get home.”

  “Please, Daddy? Please can we go for ice cream?”

  Laurel grinned at everyone. Clearly she was enjoying this little scene. Willow would have to talk to her about that later.

  Ethan sighed. “I have to pick up a prescription at the drugstore. I guess it’ll be all right. For a few minutes.”

  “We’ll meet you back there, then,” Willow said.

  “I’ve got the truck.”

  “Hannah has the car seats.”

  “Damn.”

  Connor looked up at his dad. “You said a swear.”

  A muscle ticked in Ethan’s jaw.

  “Seriously, we can walk back, can’t we, boys?” Willow hefted Ronan onto her arm—heavens he was heavy—and stood. “It’s not that far, and there’s ice cream at the end. Meet us in half an hour or so?”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay, then. Come on, boys, bring your flowers. We’ll put them in water at my place and have some ice cream.”

  “Probably some soy garbage,” Ethan muttered, barely under his breath. Willow heard him and shook her head. Then she put Ronan down, took his free hand, and straightened with a bright smile. “Thanks for the flowers, Laurel. See you soon, Ethan.”

  “Bye, Aunt Laurel! Bye, Daddy! See you soon!”

  They marched their way to the sidewalk and headed to Willow’s through the afternoon heat.

  * * *

  His arm ached and so did his heart.

  Ethan sat on the vinyl seat at the pharmacy waiting area, flipping through a magazine but not actually seeing any of the pages. Why it was taking so long, he had no idea. He just wanted to pick up the boys and go home and be quiet. Theoretically he probably shouldn’t even be driving, though he did have finger mobility with his cast.

  He already depended on people for things far too much. This was only going to make things harder. Still, it could have been a lot worse.

  He flipped through another magazine, the irritation from the garden center still humming through him. What had Hannah been thinking, letting Willow keep the boys? As far as he knew, she had no experience with kids and his boys barely knew her. And when he couldn’t get a hold of her on her phone …

  Ethan’s hands clenched the magazine’s glossy pages.

  It wasn’t Hannah’s call to make—they were his children. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect that he should have some idea where they were, or who they were with. Especially after a day like today. He appreciated his family’s help, but he also didn’t necessarily enjoy the “raising kids by committee” thing that frequently happened. Complaining would only make him seem ungrateful.

  That certainly hadn’t kept him from complaining to Willow, however, he realized with a sigh.

  Seeing Ronan curl up on her lap had done something to him, though. It had opened up a wound so painful and deep he’d caught his breath. Sometimes he forgot because he was used to seeing his boys with their grandmother or aunts, but seeing Ronan cuddled in her arms was a painful reminder that their mother was gone. And that they should have a mother. Sure, he loved them more than anything, but it wasn’t the same as having a mom. Ronan had even picked flowers for her, and she’d been touched. He could tell.

  She was different, that was for sure. Bold, unique. Willow didn’t bow down to criticism and certainly wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and be pleasant as a sunny day while doing it. Incapable of not being herself, Willow was the definition of “free spirit,” and that self-assuredness—that inner tranquility, New-Age zen—grated on him for some reason. But there was a sweetness to her that shone through every time they met. He wondered if he also resented her for that, since he was so unhappy and grouchy. She was a ray of sunshine that refused to go behind a cloud.

  The pharmacist called his name and he picked up the painkillers they’d prescribed for the first few days. He probably wouldn’t even take them; he was in charge of two small kids, after all. But he figured he’d better get them all the same, and take one at night if the pain got bad. He’d bruised his shoulder quite a bit, too. He caught his breath as he tucked the bottle into his pocket, then headed back to his SUV.

  Willow lived in the space above the café, so he parked nearby and walked around to the back of the building and the stairs that climbed to a small landing on the second floor. Her exterior door was painted a robin’s egg blue, a contrast to the purply-pink exterior with the darker purple trim. It damned near hurt his eyes, and he thought, rather nastily, that he wouldn’t be surprised to see unicorns and rainbows.

  He knocked on the door.

  Connor answered,
a ring of chocolate around his mouth.

  “Daddy! You have got to see Willow’s chair!”

  He stepped inside and hesitated, surprised by her living space. It was so … open. Gleaming hardwood floors, white and pale green walls, a small kitchen and a few doors beyond the big room. Part of the space served as a living room—Willow had minimal furniture—and the rest housed a small … well, shrine, was the best word he could think of, with a Buddha and some candles and a little indoor fountain that created a constant trickle. In the corner was the chair that Connor was so excited about. It hung suspended from a frame, and he watched as Connor climbed into it next to his brother, who’d been holding his bowl of ice cream.

  Ronan had an identical ring of chocolate around his mouth.

  “Want some ice cream?”

  He spun to see Willow approaching from one of the doorways, a wet cloth in her hand. She held it up. “We had a little mishap,” she explained.

  “Sorry if they’re making a mess…”

  “Don’t be silly. Kids are supposed to be a bit messy.” She went over to the kids and did a quick wipe of Ronan’s knee and elbow, then let them get back to their treat. “I’ve got more. It’s homemade.”

  “It is?”

  She grinned. “I like ice cream. I like chocolate. It’s actually not that hard to make.”

  “It’s not one of those nondairy, sugar-free things, is it?”

  Her eyebrow lifted and one side of her mouth took on an impish curl. “I know what you think of me, Ethan. I’m not what you’re used to. I have a nose ring and some pink hair and make brownies out of black beans. Did you know I’m not even a vegetarian?”

  He didn’t know what to say. Now that he thought of it, she’d eaten the ham at his mom’s place on Hannah’s birthday. He wasn’t used to someone calling him out so bluntly, and yet so pleasantly.

  “I choose to eat as naturally as I can, that’s all. I like all sorts of stuff. I like to keep an open mind and try new things. So the ice cream is made from organic cream, organic sugar, real vanilla bean, organic cocoa. No strange or funny ingredients.”

  “Try it, Daddy! It’s yummy!”

  “How can I say no?” He watched as she turned to go into her little kitchen and got out another bowl and a metal tub from the freezer. As she scooped some into a bowl, he looked around. The place suited her. It was plain, but also peaceful and cozy in a strange sort of way. A minute later she was back, and handed him the bowl and spoon.

  “Go have a seat. You’re managing with one arm. I’ll get you a tray to put your bowl on.”

  Her sofa was actually a plush futon. She brought over a folding table and set it up before him. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” She looked over at the boys, and he was surprised to hear her use a firm voice with them. “Boys, no swinging. Remember what I told you.”

  The motion of the hanging chair stopped to a lazy drift. “Sorry, Wil-low.”

  The way Ronan said her name hit Ethan right in the heartstrings. He bent his head and tried some of the ice cream. It was delicious. More than delicious; it was decadent.

  She sat down beside him. “So, does it meet your expectations?”

  He nodded and met her gaze. “More than. I can’t deny that you’re an amazing cook, Willow.” He swallowed a little of his pride. The truth was, she’d come through for him today even though he hadn’t given her a reason to. At the very least he owed her some gratitude. “Thank you for watching them today. I can see you’re really good with them. I need to apologize for what I said earlier.”

  When she looked him square in the eyes, his heart did a little thump. Her eyes were a clear, beautiful blue, and for a moment he was reminded of grassy fields and puffy clouds and blue skies.

  “They’re your children,” she said softly. “The most important thing in the world to you. There’s nothing to apologize for, Ethan. It’s all water under the bridge now.”

  “I was rude.”

  She laughed softly. “Well, yes. Though I would say … surly.”

  He swallowed tightly, uncomfortable with how her laugh made him feel. “I’ve judged you. Or … misjudged you, I guess. I keep misjudging you.”

  “I’m used to it. Here’s the thing. What most people judge me for are the things I actually like most about myself. It’s probably easier for me to brush off, you know?”

  “You’re always so calm.”

  She sat back against the cushion and her eyes twinkled at him. “No, I’m not. I try to be, though. I like myself better when I’m not freaking out. Negativity is really, really draining.” She grinned. “A friend of mine back in Florida called it being a bucket filler rather than a bucket spiller. I prefer to add rather than deplete.”

  He thought about that for a moment. Since Lisa’s death, he’d really struggled. That was natural, but grief and stress—about his job, about being a single parent—had definitely worn him down. It wasn’t that he was tired, like the sleep-deprived kind of tired. He was just, as she said, drained. Weary.

  “I came for ice cream and feel like I’m getting a therapy session.”

  Her smile was wide. “Oh, I’m glad.”

  Before he could ask her what she meant, she popped up off the futon and went to wipe hands and faces again. Once the boys were clean, they hopped down from the chair and went to Ethan to examine his cast and ask him all sorts of questions. After they’d touched his fingers and the hard cast, Connor looked up at his dad, his expression sober. “You’re sure you aren’t going to go away like Mommy?”

  “I’m sure, Connor. Sometimes accidents happen, and people go to the doctor and get better and are good as new.” He looked at Willow for backup, since he wasn’t too sure about how to answer and she seemed to always know the right thing to say. “Ask Willow if you don’t believe me.”

  Willow sat on the floor and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. “It’s true. I’m really sorry for what happened to your mom, you guys. I know it must make you and your daddy very sad. But know what?” She paused, and stared down at her hands for a moment, and when she looked up, there was something in her eyes that hit Ethan—maybe under her calm Willow did have secrets and pain of her own. “Lots of people get sick, or have accidents, and they’re just fine. They just need time to heal. Your dad’s arm is going to be all better in about a month.” She smiled at them. “Doctors and nurses can do amazing things.”

  Connor frowned. “Then why couldn’t they save my mommy?”

  Ethan winced. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that question, but the answer was always the same. “I don’t know, pal. I just don’t.”

  Willow’s eyes looked suspiciously soft. “Know what, Connor?”

  Connor shrugged.

  “It’s perfectly okay to wonder. It means you love your mom very much.” Ethan didn’t miss how she used the present tense of love—Connor’s feelings were still there even if Lisa wasn’t. “When I get sad about something, know what I do?”

  He shook his head.

  “I sit down in a favorite spot, and I listen to everything around me. Sometimes I close my eyes. For example, maybe I’ll sit out on my balcony and listen to the breeze in the trees, and the birds singing, and a couple of squirrels arguing in the branches. Maybe I’ll sit with a bowl of ice cream and really enjoy how wonderful it tastes. And I’ll think about all the good things in the right now, and it makes me feel better.”

  Ethan got a lump in his throat. Connor had climbed onto his knee, but all his attention was on Willow.

  “If I were going to do that for this afternoon, I’d think about ice cream, and the flowers that Ronan picked for me, and the sound of you and Ronan laughing, and how you looked in the garden with your aunt Laurel. See? You made my day special. How about that?”

  Connor nodded. Ronan’s eyelids were starting to look a little heavy, and Ethan knew he should get them home. He was tired, too. He’d been up all night and add to that the fire at dawn and the stress of the day … He was d
rained.

  “Okay, boys, we should let Willow get back to the café. I’m sure she’s got work to do.”

  She hopped up from her spot on the floor and took away his bowl. He stood and rolled his shoulders, then reached into his pocket for his keys. Fatigue was starting to hit him now, and he suspected that dinner would be something like grilled cheese and that he’d hit the sack at the same time as the boys.

  “I’ll walk you down,” she said. She hefted Ronan into her arms and they made their way down the back stairs and to the truck parked on the street. They spied Hannah through her office window, and gave a wave. She popped out of her office to get the car seats out of her car, and they got the boys strapped into the back.

  Hannah was helping, and Ethan saw Willow back away, as if she were going to sneak off. But then Hannah’s cell phone rang and she gave a quick wave and disappeared, leaving them alone again.

  “Hannah never seems to slow down,” Willow said, chuckling.

  “She’s all go and panic, and you’re all slow down and calm. Hard to believe you’re friends.”

  “She just finds her peace in a different way.”

  He shook her head. “You’re right, you know. I don’t know what to make of you. But I do need to thank you. For taking care of the boys and for what you said up there.”

  “They’re sweet boys,” she replied. “Busy, but awfully, awfully sweet. You must be doing an okay job. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  Easy for her to say.

  She poked her head into the open window. “Bye, guys. Come visit me again soon, okay?”

  Connor nodded. Ronan was clearly exhausted; he’d popped his thumb into his mouth. Ethan figured he’d be asleep before they hit the one traffic light in Darling.

  “Ethan?”

  He looked into her eyes.

  “What burned today? I never did hear.”

  He sighed. “The food bank. Thankfully the only damage to the shelter was a little melted siding. Easy fix. But the food bank … at the very least it’ll have to be gutted and redone, if it’s even salvageable.”