Authors: Breena Wilde,12 NAs of Christmas
Her Secrets
Willow needs a miracle...
Twenty-year-old Willow is a librarian in the tourist town of Bandon, Oregon. She's also been diagnosed with cancer.
Two summers ago - before all hell broke loose - she met Austin. He was everything she ever wanted in a man: smart, funny, and gorgeous. But after eight perfect weeks he left, and she hasn't heard from him since. Until she receives an email from Austin asking her to meet him so he can explain.
It might be a booty call, but Willow has to see him one last time, even if it's just to say good-bye.
COPYRIGHT
Her Secrets
Polished Pen Press
Digital
Edition
This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author,
Breena Wilde, P.O. Box 1408 Bountiful, UT. 84011.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Design copyright @2014 Breena Wilde
Edited by: Clean Leaf Editing
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still
. ~
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
ONE
Willow St. James was nineteen when she fell in love. It was that once in a lifetime kind of love, the kind of love that hit hard and didn’t let go, the kind where all she could do was think about him. Only him. Always him.
Like the twinkle in his eyes when he smiled and the way his skin crinkled. Laugh lines. That was what he called them. And then there was the way his
dark hair fell into his face when he tilted his head as they kissed.
His name was Austin M
errick. He wasn’t a boy from her quaint tourist town of Bandon, Oregon. He was a man: tall, muscled. The day she met him and every day thereafter, he wore cowboy boots, jeans that sat low on his tapered hips, t-shirts, and a cowboy hat that looked older than him. He had a square jaw, straight white teeth, and a mouth that could do things to her lips and body that made her shiver.
Austin was Willow’s
first time, her every time. From the moment she met him she knew she would never have to look at another man again.
She still didn’t know why he’d come
to Bandon, but from the moment he walked into the library where she worked, strode over to her desk, and asked her opinion on a good book, Willow was a goner. Yes, it was love at first sight. And she didn’t regret it. Not even a little.
He was in her
life for eight weeks, eight flawless weeks. And then he left. Without saying good-bye. Just rolled over, kissed her tenderly, walked out of her bedroom, and never came back.
Willow’s
heart broke that day, splintered into a million pieces. After that she got sick, couldn’t keep down food. Nine months later, Willow gave birth to a baby girl.
Everythi
ng changed when her daughter was born. Willow’s heart healed. Her baby’s tiny body, her sweet cries became Willow’s first real truth. Her baby’s life, her love, her needs superseded Willow’s.
It was
strange to think in terms of another person’s life, to gauge her own merits and accomplishments based on someone else, and maybe it wasn’t right, maybe that wasn’t how she was meant to live. But Willow enjoyed every minute of time she spent taking care of her daughter. She relished it.
Willow named her
daughter Emma Austin after her grandmother and her daughter’s father. Emma taught Willow what it meant to love and be loved unconditionally.
Willow didn’t tell her daughter’s
father. After Austin left she never heard from him again, and Willow refused to look for him. It went against every ounce of pride she possessed. It was bad enough that she’d allowed herself to be duped into falling for him. Growing up in a tourist town it was one of the first lessons taught—have fun with them, party, make out, but never, ever, ever, ever
ever
, fall in love.
Knowing the rules hadn’t helped. She’d fallen hard and the
worst part was she thought he returned her feelings. He told her he loved her.
“
It wasn’t his fault I believed him. It was mine.” She gulped down a drink of water.
For the last fi
ve months Willow had raised Emma on her own. Well, with the help of her mom and her three older sisters.
Emma was spoiled rotten
, which was good. Willow knew her life was good. Busy. Between work at the library, taking care of Emma, and spending time at the hospital and with family, there wasn’t time for anything else.
I
n two days Emma would celebrate her first Christmas.
Willow was content with the life she
had. Settled even—at the ripe old age of twenty.
A
t least, that was what she believed until she received an email.
From him.
Austin
Fucking Merrick.
TWO
She sat at her kitchen table, picked up her cup of hot chocolate, and took a drink. Emma was down for the night. Her mom and sisters would be over soon. While she waited, she read the email from Austin again.
Willow,
I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a while since we’ve talked. Maybe you don’t even remember me. We met at the library a couple of summers ago. We dated, kissed, and more.
Anyway, I left without saying good-bye or giving you a reason.
That was wrong.
You deserve an explanation.
Can you meet me at midnight? At our spot on the beach. Near the caves, remember? I’d like to explain, see you again. I’ve missed you.
Please say yes.
Yours,
Austin
There were several things about the email that irritated the hell out of her. The first was the implication that she might not remember him, as though she fell in love with guys all the time or something. The second was that he emailed her out of the blue, after almost fifteen months, asking her to meet him.
It surprised Willow that
he even knew her email. She hadn’t given it to him. While they were together they hadn’t exchanged email addresses. He’d never given her his phone number and she hadn’t given him hers. It was a discussion that never came up. Austin would meet her after her shift at the library each evening. They spent every free moment together. She never introduced him to her mom and sisters. She hadn’t wanted to share him. And it’d seemed he hadn’t wanted to share her either.
“Ugh!”
Willow flipped off her
computer and took another sip of hot chocolate.
A soft knock
sounded at the front door. Her heart jumped. Her first thought had been that it was Austin. Of course that was impossible. She quickly recovered and went to the door. Tonight they were going to wrap presents while they watched
It’s a Wonderful Life
and drank their mom’s eggnog. It was a super secret recipe.
Checking the peephole, my sister Heather waved. Willow smiled
and opened the door. “Hey girls.”
Their arms were stacked with presen
ts. Willow took one from each as she kissed them on the cheek.
“Oooh, I like
your tree, Will,” Liv said with mock sarcasm.
“Har-de-har.
”
“So glad I brought some things to spruce it up.” Sara opened her paper bag and pulled out some red tinsel.
“Emma asleep?” Willow’s mom asked.
“Yeah. She went down a while ago.”
“Awesome. It’s time for eggnog.” Heather took a bottle of rum and peach brandy from her paper bag. “You picked some up, right?”
“Of course.”
Willow opened the refrigerator, grabbed the eggnog, and set it on the cheap linoleum counter.
Her
mom got mugs from the cupboard and started making the drinks. The secret to her mom’s eggnog was lots of apricot brandy, lots of rum, and a little bit of eggnog.
“So how long
have you been in your jammies?” Liv sat at the table in front of Willow’s computer and turned it on.
“Hey.
You’re just jealous because you’re still wearing mom jeans and grannie panties.” Willow lanced down at her pink cotton pajamas and matching slippers. “These are comfy and I’m going commando.”
“Willow St. James. Is that necessary? What’s the saying? TMI?”
“Yep, definitely, TMI, mom,” Sara said, running her fingers over the curtains in the window. “Hey, are these new?” Sara always noticed the homey touches, like the curtains, the new slipcover she’d put over couch, and the pinecone wreath she’d made for the front door.
“Yeah, I made those the other day
along with that pinecone wreath.” Willow pointed at the wreath hanging on the back door. “You like them?”
“I do.
The pale green gives all the white in your kitchen a pop of needed color.”
“I think so too,
” Willow’s Mom said, handing her a mug of eggnog. Willow brought it too her lips. It smelled strong. As much as she wanted to get wasted and forget the email from Austin, she couldn’t overdo it. She needed to stay sober for Emma.
Willow’s mom tipped her cup. She obviously understood what
Willow had been thinking. “Don’t worry. I won’t drink—much. I’ll keep an eye on Emma.”
“Than
ks, mom.” She meant well, but her mom enjoyed her alcohol as much as her sisters.
Heather snorted. “Yeah, between the four of us, we’ll keep her safe.
”
Willow
took another sip. It was thick, sweet, and burned all the way down.
“Good, right?” Sara asked.
Willow giggled, feeling her cheeks warm. “Really good.”
“So you going to tell us about this email?” Liv asked, pointing at the screen.
“What email?” Mom leaned over Liv’s shoulder. Sara and Heather joined in.
Willow
let them read it because they were family. She would’ve showed it to them eventually anyway. She needed them.
Her m
om finished first. “You’re going to meet him, right?”
Heathe
r, Liv and Sara turned as one to watch Willow answer.
Willow
shrugged. “Do you think I should?” She took a drink. “It irritates me that he thinks I might not remember him. Like I could forget.” She gritted her teeth.
“I forgot who I slept with last week,” Sara said with a shrug. “But then between my ex and my three kids, I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast.”
Everyone laughed. Mom poured another round of eggnog.
“If you don’t go, I will.
I want to hear what his
explanation
is,” Liv said, gulping down her drink second helping. Her cheeks were rosy. She was the lightweight in the family as well as the lush.
“I ag
ree,” Sara said, walking into Willow’s tiny living room. She pulled out the tinsel and wound it around the bare Christmas tree.
Her
mom and Heather nodded in agreement.
“I’d go see him, Willow dear. He needs to know about Emma
, take some responsibility.” Her mom patted her hand.
That made her
angry.
“Why should he get to swoop in, pretend to be the hero, and have any part of her life
? He missed the midnight feedings, the colic, the first time she smiled.” Willow went over to the pictures above the TV.
Her
mom came to stand beside her, brushing Willow’s thick auburn curls off her sweaty neck. “Is it fair that he’ll miss anymore? Especially with… you know… it’d be nice if Emma had her father around.”
Willow swallowed down her fear. Tears filled her
eyes. “What if I tell him and he doesn’t want her? What if he rejects us, me, again? I-I don’t know if I can handle that.” Willow shook her head. She sat on the Christmas-themed slipcovered couch, and put her head in her hands.
Her mom sat too, patting her knee. Sara took
the other side. Heather and Liv kneeled in front of us. Willow glanced at each of them, so grateful for her family. They’d survived without a father. Emma would survive too, especially if she kept these amazing women in her life.
“If he makes that decision, then he makes that decision. Then we’ll know for sure he’s a fucking idiot and we ca
n move on,” Liv said, pulling Willow into a hug.
“I’ll stay
tomorrow night and watch Emma. Then you won’t need to worry,” her mom said, wiping her eyes.
“Thanks mom.” Willow
sniffled.
Heather stood. “
’Kay, we’ve got wrapping to do and a movie to watch.”
“Right, let’s get to it,” Sara added.
***
After Willow’s mom and sisters left she
read the email from Austin again. And again. And again. She also finished off the eggnog and had another. Not the smartest move with all of the medication she was taking, but Austin had thrown her for a loop. At two-thirty in the morning Willow responded:
Austin,
I’ll be there, but no funny business.
W.
As soon as she hit send, she proceeded to wish she could take it back. How could she assume there’d be funny business? Of course there wouldn’t be. He left her, like, got out of her bed, walked out, and never came back. Why would she think he’d want more of that… more of what she had to offer? The stupid words ate at her until she finally fell asleep on the couch.
It seemed like moments later Emma’s crie
s woke Willow. She went into Emma’s little room. As soon as Emma saw her, she stopped crying and smiled.
T
hat was all it took to change Willow’s mood. It didn’t matter if men didn’t find her attractive. It didn’t matter if the man she still loved rejected her. What mattered was the sweet girl smiling up at her from her crib.
Willow
picked Emma up and changed her then carried her daughter into the kitchen. She placed Emma in her bouncy chair, made the baby a bottle, and turned on the coffee.
When the bottle was warm, Willow
took her daughter into the living room and sat in her favorite old wooden rocking chair. It was the same one her mother had rocked her in when she was a baby.
“You ready, Emma
girl?” Willow cooed.
Her baby smiled, taking the bottle in her mouth.
Content. Emma’s eyes held Willow’s and she wondered if her daughter knew, if she understood how much Willow loved her, how she would do anything to protect and keep Emma safe and happy. Anything within her power, anyway.
“Positive thoughts, Will,” she
told herself in a soft voice.
Emma let go of the nipple and smiled as though encouraging.
“I can’t die, right? I have too much to live for.”
