Wishing on Willows: A Novel (31 page)

Bethany held up the baby monitor. “Finally.”

“Rough day?”

“She’s been super fussy. Barely ate anything all evening. Running another fever. I called Dr. Dotts, but he didn’t seem too concerned.”

“Another ear infection?”

A tiny cough sounded from the monitor. Bethany held it up. “Is that normal for a four-month-old?”

“The cough?”

Caleb pulled her face toward his. “Look at me, Mommy.”

He didn’t give her much of a choice.

His bottom lip pushed into a pout. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, but Mrs. Crammer needed Mommy’s help.” She looked at Bethany. “Thanks for picking him up at Linda’s.”

“You look dead on your feet.” Bethany pulled out a bottled water and a carton of milk from the refrigerator. She set them on the table, then rummaged through the cupboards and removed a package of Oreos. “Sit. Both of you.”

Robin frowned.

“I know. Prepackaged cookies. The hail should start pouring from heaven any minute.”

“I can’t believe Evan lets those things in the house.”

Caleb didn’t seem to mind. He took a cookie and dunked it into the milk with his uninjured hand. Robin ran her fingers through his hair. “Only two, sweetheart. I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.” Maybe they’d go to Subway on the way home. It was one of two fast food restaurants in Peaks, squished between the interstate and the gas station on the north side of town.

Bethany took a cookie and twisted it apart. “How’s Mimi?”

“Not good.” Joe had called on her way to the farmhouse. His family decided to make a last-minute road trip to visit his brother in Texas. Molly couldn’t work an entire Saturday on her own. So somehow, Robin had to find time to work on her day off, visit Mimi, and take care of Caleb. She’d ask Bethany for help if her friend wasn’t dealing with a sick baby. Or Amanda if she wasn’t going to a bridal shower.

Robin rubbed her temples. Caleb tried to twist his cookie apart like Bethany had, but it crumbled in his hands. He giggled. So did Bethany, and Robin’s heart twisted tighter. She missed too many of Caleb’s giggles, and tomorrow she’d miss more.

He took a long swig of milk and smacked his lips, a white mustache painted beneath his nose. “Mommy, are you happy or are you sad?”

“A little sad, Bug-man.” She kissed his forehead and looked at Bethany over the top of his hair. “Do you mind if I make a quick phone call?”

“Sure. We’ll have a dunking contest.” Bethany reached for Caleb’s milk. He laughed and pulled it away from her hand.

Robin went into the living room and sat on the couch, speed dialing her father. Time to get to the bottom of this condemnation business. The phone rang twice before somebody answered. “Helloooo? Is this Robin?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Donna, silly. Or is there another woman in your father’s life I should know about?”

“Oh, sorry. Is my dad there?”

“He’s sitting right next to me, as a matter of fact. But before I hand you over, I wanted to ask you a couple questions.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did your father tell you we set a date?” Donna’s high-pitched soprano grated against Robin’s nerves. It sounded nothing like Mom’s soothing contralto. “August 27! Can you believe it? Less than three months to put together a wedding.”

Her tongue suddenly felt heavy, too big for her mouth.

“We’ve got a lot to do. I’m hoping you’ll be my bridesmaid, of course. And Caleb the ring bearer. I wanted to get your opinion on color themes and flowers. And oh, the cake! Do you think you could make it for us?”

Donna’s chattering mingled with the faraway giggles of her son and Bethany in the next room. “… I was thinking burgundy and white. Or maybe something closer to purple. What do you think?”

Robin had fidgeted her way to the armrest without noticing. She knocked into it, then dug her nails into the fabric. She didn’t have the energy or time to talk about this right now. She had a hungry son eating Oreos in the kitchen and a support group to call so they could organize dinners for Mimi. A funeral to help plan. And a condemnation to fight. The last thing she needed to think about right now was Dad’s wedding. “Sorry, Donna, could we talk about this another time?”

“Oh. Sure.” She twittered into the phone. “Sorry for rambling. I’m just so excited. We can chat later. Here’s your father, dear.”

Dad came on the line. Robin skipped the platitudes and got right to it. “Hey, Dad, what do you know about condemnation?”

“Condemnation? As in your property?”

“According to Ian, the mayor is threatening me with it. He says the town could force me to sell.”

Her father paused for a moment. “Technically they could.”

She closed her eyes. Robin wouldn’t let this be Ian’s checkmate. She’d find an escape route. A move that would remove her café and One Life from danger. “I don’t understand how this is legal. I own the café.”

“If the municipality decides Willow Tree is a threat to the town’s well-being, then I’m afraid it’s legal.”

“The town’s well-being? You’re making it sound like I’m out to destroy the place.” When that couldn’t be further from the truth. She loved Peaks. If she thought for one second her café was harmful to its well-being, she’d never have built it in the first place.

“Honey, maybe it’s best if you sell to Ian.”

She scooted to the edge of the sofa. “What?”

“Fighting this condemnation will be a huge investment of time and resources. I’m not sure either would be good for you or Caleb. There’s only so much stress you can take.”

“That’s your answer? You think I should give up?”

“Not give up, sweetie. Move on to something new. A new location for Willow Tree.”

Move on? Like he was with Donna? Robin wanted to pick up his words and throw them away. He said them like they were so simple. Like doing so was as easy as choosing between lemon bars and lemon scones. Like she only had to make up her mind and that would be that. But it wasn’t simple, and besides, she had One Life to consider.

Caleb poked his head into the living room, a cookie-crumb smile spread wide across his face. A face with Micah’s eyes and Micah’s nose and Micah’s
chin. She crooked her finger in an invitation. He raced across the living room and snuggled into her lap.

“The condemnation isn’t a sure thing yet. Mayor Ford has to call for a vote at the next town meeting on July 14. There are people in Peaks who don’t want me to give up.” She thought about Kyle and all the others who’d come to her café, encouraging her to press on. Robin pulled Caleb closer, wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed him tight, as if the simplicity of his existence might seep from his skin into hers. “I need your support, Dad.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come to Peaks for the meeting. As my lawyer. And as my father.”

“If that’s what you need. I can fly in that morning.”

Robin thanked him and hung up the phone. Bethany leaned against the doorjamb. “Is everything okay?”

“You know that story about
Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time to move to Australia.”

Caleb woke up on the wrong side of the bed. So did Robin. As soon as the alarm blasted, she wanted to pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep, where thoughts about Ian McKay and condemnation could not follow. But a busy morning awaited. So she got herself and her unhappy son brushed and dressed and in the car, his whiny voice scraping against her eardrums the entire drive to Willow Tree Café.

When they arrived, he pouted and scowled and even stomped his foot. She wanted to stomp her foot right back. Instead, she made phone calls for Mimi and baked for Carl’s wake and thanked Linda for leading the grief group and helped Molly with the breakfast rush, all while keeping her grumpy son from making a scene in front of the customers. By the time the café emptied, exhaustion threatened to take over and it was only ten in the morning. She needed a break.

Caleb crouched on the floor behind the counter, crashing a plastic pterodactyl into his Tonka truck. Over and over again. Loudly. Robin tried to shave orange peels for her orange-cranberry tarts at the front counter, but her injured finger kept getting in the way. Molly walked from one table to the next, wiping away crumbs and filling empty canisters with sugar and sweetener packets.

Robin glanced at her son. His scowl was noticeable even from her bird’s-eye view. Fingers of guilt wiggled around in her stomach. This was supposed to be one of their days together, but instead of playing outside at a park, her son was stuck here. She sighed and set down the peeler as Molly stepped over the traffic jam of toys and snuck into the kitchen.

“Caleb, honey, I told you to put some of those toys away.”

His Tonka truck rammed into several dinosaurs and sent them flying.

The muscles in Robin’s jaw tightened. She pressed her knuckles against her eyes and prayed for patience. “Do you want to watch a video in the back room? Maybe
The Land Before Time
? Or
Mary Poppins
?” Evan had installed a television. One with an attached DVD player. She had a basket full of Caleb’s favorite movies in a drawer for times such as these.

“No!” The word came out like an accusing finger. Robin had the fleeting urge to snap it off, followed by an intense desire to wrap him in a hug and force him to understand that she loved him more than anything, but right now life was busy and she needed his help.

A wave of anger threatened to capsize the modicum of patience Robin had left. Being a single mother with a café was hard enough. Trying to save that café from a bulldozer was too much. The whole thing set her teeth on edge. She didn’t understand how Mayor Ford could call himself a Christian yet knock down one of the town’s biggest outreach ministries. How could he justify condemning her property and how could Ian stand by and support it? Robin pressed her fingers against her forehead, as if the pressure might push away her darkening thoughts and the headache throbbing in her temples.

“Fear is not from the Lord, Robin. You’ve read your Bible enough to know that.”

Despite the truth of Amanda’s words, that four-letter word coiled like a snake in Robin’s belly, its venom seeping into every crevice of her body. She was afraid of disappointing Piper Greeley and every other person who depended on One Life. She was afraid that after everything, she would still lose Willow Tree. But most of all, she was terrified of the way Ian McKay made her feel.

I don’t know what to do with these feelings, Lord
.

They swirled together in a mass of confusion and fear and guilt. The piano called out her name, but she couldn’t play because of her stupid finger. What a silly, pointless injury.

“Uh, Robin”—Molly stepped out of the kitchen—“the oven’s making that sound again.”

“Saturday is ’posed to be our day!” Caleb shot Robin a look he reserved for the baddest of bad guys and crashed his dinosaurs into the wall.

Molly stumbled over them and nearly fell.

“Caleb, clean those up before somebody breaks a leg!” And before she could swallow the word or pray for patience, a curse flew from her mouth and hung in the air—harsh and portentous.

Caleb had never heard such ugliness before, at least not from his mother. His bottom lip trembled. Tears gathered in his eyes. Robin shook her head and backed away. She couldn’t do this anymore. Not right now. She looked at Molly. Grabbed her purse from beneath the register. “I just … I need … a minute.”

Molly’s head bobbed, fast. Maybe afraid. “I’ll watch him.”

Without saying a word, Robin hurried outside.

The branches swayed and tickled her face. Droplets of rain took shape and fell from the clouds, painting ripples across the surface of the pond. The rain found its way through the canopy overhead and kissed her cheeks. What was she doing? How could she leave her child with one of her employees?

Lord, what is wrong with me?

Thoughts, images, words coalesced in her mind, gathering into a morbid song. The patter of rain against Micah’s casket as they lowered him into the ground. A wrecking ball knocking her café into scraps of plaster and drywall. Mimi Crammer’s shattered expression before she crumpled in Robin’s arms. The confident, sure movements of Ian’s hands as he cooked in her kitchen. Dad’s words about moving on. Amanda’s words on the stairs.

“Fear is not from the Lord …”

The song rose to its crescendo until all that remained was Micah, but with gaps. His form without substance. His face without any lines. His body without warmth. She scrambled to fill in the holes. To plug them up with memories and love and devotion. But she couldn’t, and fire burned in her lungs. She heaved out her breath.

Get out
.

Micah was gone. She wanted to move on. More than anything, she wanted to let go. To step forward and grab on to happiness and love and whatever might lie ahead if she could be brave enough to take it. It would be so easy to forget. So easy to let the memories seep through the cracks in her mind. But what would that mean for him and for her and the life they’d shared? And who was to say that step wouldn’t lead to more loss, more heartache? The burning moved to her eyes and her arms.