by Donna Alward
“And did you sleep at all?”
She laughed then. Truthfully, not as much as she should have. “Enough, I suppose. But I won’t lie. I’ll be glad once this settles down. The café usually keeps me plenty busy. I’m afraid my employees have all been putting in extra hours this week.”
And the more hours they worked, the more she had to pay out in wages. But she wasn’t going to think about that right now, either. She could only worry about one thing at a time. “Listen, Ethan, do you want to get some tea? These guys will be working for another few hours, and I’ll have to close up here and next door, too. I could use fifteen minutes to sit down and have something to drink.”
She watched as he pulled out his phone and checked the time. “I have some time. But not tea. Something else, maybe.” He gave a shudder and she laughed again. She wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t the tea type.
Back at The Purple Pig, she made herself a soothing cup of jasmine tea and then poured Ethan a glass of tart lemonade. They took a table in the back corner, away from the other customers, and she sank into the seat gratefully. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“Is it possible you’re working too hard?” Ethan lifted the glass and took a sip of his drink.
“More than possible.” She smiled, took a deep breath in and out. “It’s good, though, you know? A good cause.”
“A necessary one,” he replied. “Though I wish it weren’t.”
“I know. But some people, they just need a helping hand.” She took her spoon and pressed her tea bag against her cup before removing it from the water and putting it on the side of her saucer. “Maybe it’s Pollyanna of me, but I just think that if we focused more on helping each other, the world would be a happier place.”
“It’s a nice sentiment,” he offered. “Not sure how realistic it is.”
She sipped the fragrant tea. “I can’t fix the whole world, Ethan. But maybe I can do something about my little corner of it. Imagine what would happen if we all did that? The world would be filled with happy little corners.”
He sipped his drink again, and didn’t reply.
She knew her views weren’t for everyone, but they didn’t have to be. If she had learned one thing over the past years, as she’d dealt with her own demons, it was that she didn’t need anyone’s approval but her own.
She lifted her cup and drank again, deeper this time. What she really needed wasn’t tea, but some quiet time to do some deep breathing, maybe meditate. She recognized the antsy feeling that tightened her muscles. It could be caused by working too much, or too much stimulation and not enough quiet … or too much Ethan. Certainly she’d been thinking about him a lot lately, particularly when she was trying to quiet her mind. She’d let the other thoughts drift away, and thoughts of him kept drifting in. It was really quite annoying.
“I didn’t really peg you as the tattoo type,” he said, nodding at her arm.
Her stomach twisted into a knot. Her ink was rather personal, though its meaning was well known. “I only have the one,” she remarked, keeping her voice light. “Though I’ve thought about getting another.”
“A semicolon in a flower. That seems kind of a weird choice, don’t you think?” He gave a little chuckle. “Did you study English or something?”
He didn’t know. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Not everyone understood the meaning behind the semicolon, she supposed. Did she want to explain? And if she did, did she want it to be here, sitting at her business, with the chatter of other customers around?
He put down his glass. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, of course not.”
“Yes, I did.” He sighed. “Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot … I’m sorry for that. Forget I said anything, okay?” He checked the time again. “I should probably walk over to the soccer field anyway. I can catch the end of the boys’ practice.”
She made a snap decision. “I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind. I think I need to get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up inside too much.”
“Okay.” He didn’t look too sure, but now that she’d said it, the idea of walking along the riverbank and to the soccer field sounded perfect.
It wasn’t yet dusk, but the sun had that late-day mellowness that seemed to soak into everything, warm and lazy. Next to sunrise, Willow liked this time of day best. Early morning held the brightness of a new day’s potential, but sunset was restful and calm. The green of the grass was deeper, and everything held a gilded glow. She let out a deep breath and stretched her neck, tilting her head to first one shoulder, then the other.
They ambled along the sidewalk until the crosswalk on Main, then hit the footpath that followed the creek through the park. “I really needed this,” she remarked. “Normally I stay pretty in tune with myself, but I’ve been so preoccupied with the food bank thing, I’ve pushed my normal routine aside.”
“I pegged you as someone who goes with the flow. That you’d hate routine.”
She looked up at him. It was very odd, thinking about walking in the park with a man—with Ethan. Not a date, but not entirely platonic, either. “Actually, I’m very regimented. That’s part of what keeps me sane.” She laughed lightly. “And yeah, it helps me go with the flow when I have to. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”
“Not really.”
They sidestepped around a couple stopped on the edge of the path, then kept going and she picked up the thread of conversation once more. “I get up at the same time each morning. I start my day the same way—with some tea, a yoga practice, maybe a brief meditation.”
“You must get up early.”
She laughed. “Five. I’m downstairs in the café by six-thirty, to help get ready to open. I’ll have something to eat then, usually some fruit or yogurt or something. The days differ depending on how busy we are, what is going on … but that routine helps me feel prepared to meet those challenges, you know?”
She half expected him to look at her like she was some aberration. Instead, his eyes glowed with approval. “You always seem so unflappable.”
“Hah!” A laugh burst out of her mouth. “Oh, Ethan, I can be flapped very easily. That’s why I’m so regimented. I…” She turned over her wrist and looked at her tattoo. “Ethan, are we becoming friends, do you think?”
His cheeks colored a little bit. “Uh, I guess we probably are. Kind of an odd combo, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“And you know what it’s like to hurt a lot, right? Emotionally. I know you do because I’ve seen you whenever someone brings up your wife.”
She watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his gaze skittered away. “Yeah. I know what that’s like.”
They were nearly to the soccer field. She could see parents lined up by the chain-link fence; hear the cheers and the yelling from the players on the field. There were two separate games going on, the field divided in half, presumably because of the ages of the participants. She halted, not wanting anyone else to hear what she was about to say.
“You asked about my tattoo. It’s a semicolon. You know what a semicolon does in a sentence, right? It creates a pause, but the sentence isn’t over.”
“Well, I think my mom the grammarian would probably have a different definition, but we can go with that.”
She smiled, then met his gaze, her insides quaking. “When I was twenty, there was a pause in my life. I considered ending that pause with a period.”
“A period…” He looked confused.
“A period marks The End.”
Understanding dawned on his face. She saw it in how his eyes widened and his lips softened just a bit. She would not let her lip wobble. Instead she lifted her chin just a bit. “I decided that I didn’t want the end. I wanted to go on. I was going to fight to go on, and I did. When you see someone with a semicolon tattoo, that’s what it represents, Ethan. The fact that at some point, that person might not have gone on, but they chose to fight. Their story isn’t over.”
“Willow,” he said softly.
Her lip did quiver a bit and she bit down on it, then drew a deep breath. “I’m good now. But yoga, meditation, they saved me, and that’s why my semicolon is inside a lotus flower. I did a lot of work on me, because I finally decided I was worth it. Ironically, all that serenity you sense takes a lot of conscious effort.”
“I had no idea.”
“Everyone has a story. You have one. Laurel has one. The people coming to the food bank have a story. We’re all just people trying to muddle through as best we can.”
He moved his left hand, and she was shocked when he clasped her fingers. “Thank you for telling me,” he said. “No one has trusted me with anything for a very long time.”
“Surely your brothers—“
“No. Everyone thinks I can’t handle it. Like I’m some fragile creature they need to smile around all the time.”
“Oh, Ethan.”
“I understand they’re just trying to help. You’re the first person to treat me like I’m nothing special in months.”
She laughed, a thick, emotional sound, and pulled her fingers away from his, somewhat regretfully. “You don’t want to be a special snowflake?”
He laughed too, and slid his hand into his pocket. “Sometimes I just want to be a man.”
And there it was. That slow simmer of attraction again, hanging between them, like a branch laden with fruit ready to be picked. He was a man. Oh, what a man. Tall and strong and sometimes reticent and … what was it her mother used to say? Something about still waters running deep.
And he was still holding her hand. Her throat tightened as their eyes met and clung.
Oh boy.
“Dad! Dad! Did you see?” Connor came running over, looking adorable in his yellow soccer shirt and shorts with little black shin pads. “I scored a goal!”
“Way to go, tiger!” Ethan held Willow’s gaze as Connor barreled against his legs, but he released her fingers and ruffled the boy’s sweaty hair. “This might be cause for celebration. Ice cream? Just this once, before baths and bed?”
“Oh boy!”
“Go get your brother.”
They watched him run off, straight for Ronan, who was a shorter version of his brother and wearing a red shirt instead of yellow. Ethan raised his hand and waved to one of the moms. “Mrs. Sanders,” he explained. “She agreed to watch over the guys while I went to see you.”
The boys came back, Connor dutifully dragging the small backpack with their water bottles. Ronan’s head was equally sweaty. “Ice cream!” he shouted happily. “Connor said!”
“That’s right. Just this once, though.” Ethan looked over at Willow. “Join us? Or do you have to get back?”
“Come with us, Willow! Please?” Connor jumped up and down, his energy level still at its peak.
She should get back. There was so much to do. But she didn’t quite want to walk away just yet. The evening was soft and full of promise, and the idea of ice cream with the boys—with Ethan—was too alluring to pass up.
“Of course I will,” she responded, and ignored the voice in her head that said things were about to change.
CHAPTER 8
Five a.m., and Laurel, true to her word, was at Willow’s door with yoga mat in hand. “Okay,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I haven’t been sleeping that well. I think I need to chill out.”
Willow smiled. “You’ve come to the right place.” She stepped back from the door and let Laurel inside. True enough, her friend seemed wound tighter than a spring. “Anything in particular going on?”
For a brief moment, Willow thought maybe Laurel was going to say something, but Laurel shook her head and toed off her sandals. “Just antsy, I guess. Maybe it’s a full moon or something.”
Her voice sounded a little too nonchalant, but Willow wouldn’t press. People revealed things on their own time, when they were ready. Instead she grabbed her own mat, put out a few blocks and a bolster for Laurel, and started the soothing background music.
“You need to breathe deeply first,” she said quietly, raising her arms and filling her diaphragm with air. Dutifully, Laurel inhaled as deeply as possible, then blew it out.
“It’s just that—”
“Not now,” Willow said firmly. “After. Focus on mindfulness now. Listen to your breathing. Feel your chest rise and fall.”
It took several minutes, but finally Laurel started to melt into the poses, her breathing deep and regular. Willow needed the practice herself; today was Thursday, she hadn’t seen Ethan or the boys since Tuesday, but they’d been on her mind constantly. And she’d see them today, when they came to help organize the food bank.
Frustrated that she’d allowed her thoughts to wander away from the moment, she focused on a more challenging move. Grasshopper pose required focus and strength in the upper body and core. Willow pressed both hands on the floor, exhaled, and lifted both her legs perpendicular to her body, while being balanced on her hands. Laurel, meanwhile, modified it by doing the Baby Grasshopper, and kept one foot and both hands pressed on the floor, since she couldn’t quite reach for her other foot.
“Show-off,” Laurel muttered. Willow carefully came out of the pose, angled Laurel a sideways grin, and then led them both through a few cool-down poses.
She was sweaty. Laurel was, too, but the tension seemed to have melted out of her shoulders, and her face wasn’t so tight. “Better?” Willow asked.
“Much,” Laurel replied.
“It’s unusual for you to come over for yoga this early.” Willow went to the kitchen and put on the kettle for her morning cup of green tea, then grabbed two glasses, filled them with water, and went back to the living room. “Normally you’re an end-of-the-day practice girl.”
Laurel took the water and drank half of it down, then looked at Willow. “Oh, I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you. I know my secrets are safe with you.”
Secrets?
“There’s nothing official yet, but since the wedding, Aiden and I…” Laurel paused, and her cheeks colored a bit. A smile spread across her face. “Well, we’re trying to have a baby. We decided we didn’t want to wait.”
Willow put down her glass, a wave of surprise making her temporarily silent. A baby? They’d only been married a little over a month! “Wow, that’s fast,” she said, but she couldn’t help but smile back. How could she not, when Laurel looked so happy? “So why the sleeplessness?”
Laurel sighed. “Excitement? Overthinking? I keep wondering if I already am, and what it will be like, and what our lives will be like, and then what if I don’t get pregnant right away … my brain is a runaway train.”
Willow put her hand on Laurel’s forearm. “You’re sure it’s not too fast? You just got married. I figured you’d still be running around naked at this point.”
Laurel’s blush deepened. “Who says we’re not?” Then she giggled. “Oh God, Wil. If I’m not pregnant, it’s not from lack of trying.”
Willow burst out laughing, and Laurel added her sheepish grin.
“Are you late yet?”
“A few days, but that’s not unusual. And I haven’t said a word to Aiden. One of us being wound up is bad enough. He’ll hover.”
The kettle began to whistle, and Willow went to the kitchen and poured the water over the leaves. “Well, it would make Aiden’s mom happy. I hear she’s very big on grandchildren.”
Laurel came into the kitchen and sent Willow a sly look. “And how would you know that?”
Without missing a beat, she reached for a cup and replied, “Hannah gets a lot of pressure at home to settle down and start having babies.”
“And is that your only source of information?”
“What do you mean?” She focused on the mug and carefully poured the tea.
“Rumor has it that you had ice cream with one of the Gallagher boys the other night.”
“Actually, it was three of the Gallagher boys, and we got a cone after Connor and Ronan’s s
occer practice.”
“And you say that as if it happens every day of the week. What the heck, Wil? You start seeing Ethan and you don’t tell your best friend?”
Willow’s jaw dropped. “Wait … seeing him? Oh, it’s not like that. Not at all. I watched the boys for a few hours the day that Ethan was hurt, and now he’s kind of at loose ends, being off work and all. He stopped in to ask if he could help with the food bank project, and I walked over to the soccer field with him. That’s all.”
“So you went for a walk to see his children play soccer?”
Oh, that made it sound like it was totally something it was not. “Honestly, Laurel, I’ve been managing the café and the project at the same time. I needed some fresh air and some time to decompress. I walked over. They were going to ice cream and asked if I wanted to go along. I like the boys, they’re good kids. So I said yes. End of story.”
Laurel drank the rest of her water and gave Willow a “sure it is” kind of look. Willow’s serenity from her morning practice was now shot. Not just because of Laurel’s insinuations, but because they weren’t totally unfounded. They’d gotten off to a rocky start, but she couldn’t deny there was something about Ethan that intrigued her. It didn’t hurt that he was ruggedly gorgeous. Redheads usually weren’t her thing, but his coppery hair only seemed to highlight the blue of his eyes. And then there was the way he treated his boys. They were his whole world.
“You probably want to shower,” Laurel said, “And I have to get back and get ready to be at the garden center by eight. Can we please set aside some time to get together soon, just us? I miss that.”
“You mean when you’re not chasing Aiden around in his birthday suit? Because I don’t think I want to witness that.”
Laurel giggled. “Touché.” Then her expression sobered. “Look, I know I gave you a hard time about Ethan, but honestly, think about it. He’s withdrawn a lot since Lisa’s death, but he’s a good guy. The Gallagher brothers … they know how to treat a woman right.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Well, except maybe Rory. He’s still in the ‘plaything’ stage.”
