Wishing on Willows: A Novel (2 page)

Amidst a pile of discarded tops, inside a closet she used to share with her husband, Robin Price deliberated between high heels and flats, but her mind was on her house, a disaster zone of plastic dinosaurs, old maid cards, and Thomas the Tank Engines littering a path from Caleb’s room to her own. Unfazed by the chaos, or perhaps just accustomed to it, Robin’s sister-in-law held pendant earrings by one ear, gold hoops by the other. She seemed more her old self each day.

“These would look great with your black top,” Amanda said, jiggling the hoops by her left ear. “But these really match the blue one.” She held the pendant earrings up to her right.

Behind her, clomping around in a pair of high-heeled brown boots, his beloved John Deere toy combine clutched in his fist, Caleb looked so much like Micah with his flyaway cowlick and those big hazel eyes that it stole a little of Robin’s breath. “Look, Mommy,” he said. “I’m a cowboy! And I’m gonna get those bad guys with my shooter.” He raced down the hallway as fast as the too-big shoes allowed.

Amanda held the earrings up higher. “So what do you think?”

“I think we’re overthinking this.” Robin plopped onto the bed and brushed wisps of hair from her eyes.

“Your first date in over four years? Impossible.”

“You have to stop calling it that.” Robin’s palms were clammy enough at it was. Not to mention her stomach hurt and her nerves were messier than the house. “It’s not a date.”

“A single man asked you to dinner. I hate to break it to you, but that’s a date.”

With a groan, Robin fell back onto the mattress. “I’m an awful, horrible woman. Somebody should lock me up and throw away the key.”

“Wanting to get back out there does not make you awful.”

“But that’s just it. I don’t
want
to get back out there.” In fact, the only living male Robin had any interest in spending time with was currently wearing her high-heeled brown boots—and those dates usually entailed her flannel pajama bottoms, heavily buttered popcorn, and the umpteenth viewing of
Pete’s Dragon
. She flung her arm over her eyes and shook her head. “This whole thing was one giant misunderstanding.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Kyle mistook my suggestion. He probably thinks I was fishing for a date, but I honestly just wanted to chat about the meet and greet on Sunday.” Kyle was the new director for One Life, a beloved storefront ministry attached to Sybil’s Antique Shoppe. One Life did everything, from delivering meals to equipping the unemployed to offering free after-school programs to hosting a support group for people battling addictions. It was located next door to Robin’s café, which meant she could bake to her heart’s content, because whatever she didn’t sell for the day, she’d bring over to One Life, where the food never went to waste. Yesterday, when she dropped off some apple fritters and mentioned they should find a time to discuss the event, he’d said, “How about tomorrow night over dinner?” and in the midst of her shock, she said yes. She said yes! “Oh my goodness, I’m leading him on. I am a leader-on-er.”

“You are not.” Amanda dug through an opened jewelry box on the dresser. “For all you know, you could totally hit it off.”

Robin blinked at the textured ceiling and the layer of dust on the wooden fan blades. Two of the three light bulbs in the fixture were burnt out. She would wait for the entire room to go black before she took the time to change them. It had been one of Micah’s pet peeves. Robin could picture him standing on their bed, faded blue jeans slung low around his hips, twisting in a fresh bulb.
“What would you do without me?”
he’d always ask.
“Go blind from squinting,”
she’d say. As it turned out, she did not go blind, but the house was dimmer. She frowned and sat up.

Amanda pulled something black from the pile of clothes in the closet.

“Caleb’s just getting over his cold.”

“Your son will be fine. That’s one of the perks of having me as your roommate. Built-in baby-sitter.” Amanda set the gold hoops on Robin’s knee. “Black top. Gold hoops. It’s too late to cancel now.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

The sound made Robin jump up from the bed, her nerves swooping and twisting—not the excited kind of nerves she’d had on her first date with Micah either, but the nauseous ones. She pulled the black top over her camisole, put the gold hoops in her ears, slipped her feet into a pair of black flats, and hurried down the steps, Caleb chasing behind her with an empty squirt gun.

She placed her hand over the doorknob and took a deep breath.
Inhale
—this was not a date.
Exhale
—this was not a date. Amanda was making a bigger deal out of this than it was. Forcing her lips into a smile, she pulled open the door.

Kyle stood on her front stoop with neatly trimmed hair, a navy-blue polo, and a single red rose.

This was totally a date.

“Wow,” he said, holding out the flower. “You look great.”

Her stomach didn’t swoop. Her heartbeat didn’t quicken. But she thanked him and took the gift. “Come on in.”

As soon as he stepped inside, he crouched down to toddler height and stuck out his hand. “You must be Mr. Caleb, the man of the house. My name’s Kyle.”

Caleb pressed his face against Robin’s hip and made a sound that was half whine, half huff. A wordless “I don’t wanna.” Her boy wasn’t shy and he certainly was not a brat. So why did he choose now to act like it? “Caleb, when somebody says hi, the polite thing to do is say hi back.”

He made the sound again and wrapped both arms around her thigh.
Oh, good grief
. She was not going to have a power struggle with her child in front of this man before her first accidental date in four and a half years.

Kyle straightened to his full, lanky height and waved his hand, a gesture
that said not to worry, he wasn’t offended. Robin moved to get her purse but Caleb wouldn’t let go of her leg. She looked at Amanda. “Don’t forget to give him his medicine. It’s the pink bottle in the fridge. Dr. Dotts was very clear that he needed to take it for the full ten days, even if all the symptoms are gone.”

“I know. I know. Stop worrying and have a good time.”

“I want to come with you,” Caleb said.

Handing the rose over to her sister-in-law, Robin peeled away Caleb’s arms. “Honey, you’re going to stay and play with Aunt Mandy.”

“But I wanna come with you.” He stuck out his bottom lip and grabbed onto her leg again, but Amanda grasped his shoulders and pulled him away. Caleb was having none of it. He dug his feet into the carpet and began to cry.

“We can watch the dragon movie,” Amanda said.

“I want to go with you!” His cry turned into a full-fledged wail.

Heat rushed into Robin’s ears. Caleb—her wonderful, kindhearted, happy-go-lucky, almost four-year-old boy—was throwing a temper tantrum that would rival the most terrible of two-year-olds. Robin stared, completely mortified, until Amanda wrapped her arms around her traumatized son and mouthed the word
go
.

So she did. With the sound of Caleb screaming behind her, she stepped outside and closed the door and smiled at Kyle, feeling lonelier than she had in a long, long time.

Her favorite canvas hung slightly off kilter, tilting to the left, as if trying to slip away from the chaos in the café. Despite a broken appliance and an employee who had called in sick, Robin breathed in the steam rising from her coffee and smiled, because it was
her
chaos. And nothing could ruin Saturday mornings. Not even the empty table next to the counter where Mayor Ford usually read the newspaper while enjoying a white chocolate caramel latte and homemade cinnamon roll.

A loud sound, like a hammer on pipes, clanged from the kitchen.

The chatter of her three table mates paused, then resumed.

Robin needed to corral the grief support group’s conversation toward more productive things, like who would visit Jed Johnson and take him meals throughout the month. Instead, she twirled her wedding ring, relishing each of the ladies’ smiles—especially Linda’s. A year and a half ago, the woman hadn’t wanted to take another breath, let alone go out in public. Now here she sat, appetite back, ready to support those whose grief was a little more fresh.

Robin took a sip of her coffee, contentment resting in her chest. She was so proud of everyone’s progress.

“So …” Cecile Arton’s face lit like a Christmas tree. She wore a loose-fitting pink track suit embossed with rhinestones and her gray roots gave way to teased, bottle-blond hair. “How was your date last night?”

Robin’s attention snapped into place. “My date? How did you hear about that?”

“Richard saw you at Shorney’s Terrace with a certain someone.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but that certain someone is only a friend.”

Cecile folded her hands beneath her chin. “Shorney’s isn’t exactly the kind of place you bring a friend.”

Robin was well aware of that fact, especially after spending an entire meal surrounded by smitten high school couples bedecked in prom clothes. Nevertheless, she had cast aside the awkwardness and used the opportunity to get to know the new director of One Life. Robin loved his passion for the ministry, but even in her unguarded moments, when she made herself consider the possibility of something more, she only missed Micah. “We were discussing the meet and greet on Sunday. That’s all.”

The kitchen door swung open and out came Lenny, her trusty repairman, a tool belt slung around his waist. Caleb trailed close behind on his tiptoes, arms folded up to his chest like a T. rex. When he woke up this morning, the fiasco from last night had been completely forgotten.

“Just need to grab something from the van,” Lenny said, saluting Robin and the ladies with her. Caleb mimicked the salute.

“Hey, Wild Man, why don’t you come over here and color for a few minutes while Lenny fixes the oven?” Robin said.

Caleb let out his best dinosaur protest—something between a growl and a roar. Linda chuckled and took a sip of her herbal tea. She’d watched Caleb since he was old enough to crawl, which meant she knew better. The kid had no interest in coloring. Or anything that involved sitting still. Not when there were dragons to slay and monsters to chase and bad guys to capture.

“That’s okay, Robin. He’s a good helper.” Lenny tousled Caleb’s dark hair and opened the front door wide. Shafts of early-morning sun poured across marbled flooring. “We should have your oven up and running in no time.”

As soon as the pair disappeared outside, Cecile took a sip of her mocha, lipstick staining the mug rim. “That Lenny’s a nice-looking fellow.”

“I don’t care if he’s cute or covered in warts,” Bernie said, “as long as he fixes that oven so I can have my cinnamon roll.” She poked at the day-old rhubarb muffin in front of her. Exactly like the rhubarb muffins Cecile and Linda had eaten without any complaint. “It’s the only thing I look forward to eating anymore.”

“A nicer guy you couldn’t find. Strong shoulders. A decent head of hair.” Cecile took another drink and peered at Robin over the top of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “What do you think about Lenny?”

“I think he’s an excellent repairman. I also think we should be back on track.”

“You’re avoiding,” Cecile said.

“Avoiding what?”

“The question.” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, leaving her lips paler. “Just because sparks didn’t fly last night with Kyle doesn’t mean they won’t with Lenny. You have to keep trying until you find the right guy.”

Robin had found the right guy. Losing him didn’t mean she should go looking for a backup.

“Caleb sure seems to have taken a liking to him.”

“Caleb takes a liking to anyone who lets him hit things with a hammer.”

Cecile placed each of her ringed fingers against her chest, dimpling the skin above her zippered top in four different places. “All I’m saying is you could do a lot worse than Lenny.”

Bernie muttered something about doing a lot better too and massaged the tops of her knees.

Robin chuckled. “How about this? If I’m ever in want of a matchmaker, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Speaking of matchmaking”—Cecile turned her attention to Linda—“how did
your
date go last night? Was he as charming as I promised he’d be? Did he take you to Val’s Diner? I told him to spring for something nicer than Val’s.”

A slow blush crept into Linda’s cheeks.

Robin looked at Cecile. “You set her up?”

“With that handsome fellow who runs the Laundromat.”

Linda’s blush deepened. “It’s okay, Robin. Really. We had a nice time.”

Cecile’s eyes glittered. “I knew you would.”

“He’s taking me line dancing next week.”

A puff of air escaped Robin’s lips. She leaned back in her chair and studied Linda, trying to ignore the odd sensation of being lapped.

“Can I have that?” Cecile pointed to Bernie’s uneaten muffin. The old woman scooted her plate over and scrunched her nose, like Robin had served them rotten fish. “I’m so glad you’re letting go, Linda. Moving on. Living your life again.”

Robin’s muscles tightened in her chest. Then in her arms and legs.
Letting go. Moving on
. Why should dating be the proof for either of those things? And how could Cecile make it sound so easy when she didn’t have a clue? Cecile had lost a sister and Robin had lost a husband. While both devastating, they were not the same.