Wishing on Willows: A Novel (28 page)

“What’s yours?”

He remembered Robin’s expression when she tried the omelet he made a couple weeks ago. She’d wanted to hate it. He could see the desire on her face, but she couldn’t lie. By the time she took her third bite, she was smiling. “Restaurants.”

“Really?” Amanda folded a corner of the sugar packet. “Then why are you a developer?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure I can keep up.”

Ian fiddled with his napkin. “I enjoy working with my dad. He’s a good guy, you know? I don’t want to disappoint him.” He’d done enough of that already. Besides, Ian had a stable future at McKay Development and Construction. He couldn’t say those things about the restaurant business.

“Take him out of the equation for a minute. Do you like your work?”

“Do you like being an accountant?”

She shrugged.

“See, it’s a weird question. How many people honestly love what they do?” His attention wandered to Robin. So did Amanda’s.

“But the idea of owning a restaurant. You think you’d love that?”

“I know I would.”

Megan dropped two chocolate milkshakes on the tabletop, tossed them a couple straws, and slunk away. Ian tapped one against the table to remove the paper wrapping and squinted after the waitress’s retreating backside. He’d never seen her so glum. “Is something wrong with Megan?”

“She thinks we’re dating.”

Megan took an order from a group of teenagers off to the left. The poor girl looked like a kicked puppy. “Love stinks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Perhaps the experience will be good fodder for her poetry.”

Amanda dipped her finger into the cap of whipped cream floating over her shake and came away with a white dollop covering her nail. She put it in her mouth and closed her eyes, as if savoring the velvety sweetness. “All the women in here are dying.”

“Sounds serious. Should we leave before the epidemic spreads?”

Amanda smiled.

“Do I get to know what they’re dying of?”

“Half from curiosity, and the other from jealousy. This is a small town, you know. Right now you’re the most eligible bachelor.”

Ian looked over at Robin. “Do you know …?” His question trailed off. How could he ask it without sounding like a complete idiot?

“What half Robin is on?” Amanda dunked her straw up and down in her shake, mixing whipped cream and chocolate. “Of course. Don’t you?”

“She’s not exactly easy to figure out.”

“Let’s just say I told Robin about our date and she doesn’t make a habit of coming to Val’s on a Friday night.”

“She’s part of the curious half, then.”

Amanda took a sip through her straw, cheeks pulling in with the effort.

The front doors swooshed open. Evan walked inside, followed by a man—slightly taller, with shaggier hair and an easy, laid-back swagger. They walked to the far end of the diner, to Bethany and Robin’s table. Robin stood, hugged Evan before he slipped into the booth next to his wife, and then wrapped her arms around the other guy’s neck in an all-too intimate squeeze.

Ian nodded toward the foursome. “She’s obviously not jealous.”

“Are you?”

He let out an uncomfortable laugh just as his cell phone chirped in his
pocket. Saved by the bell. He fished it out from its hiding place, thankful for the distraction. His mother’s number lit the screen. “Mind if I take this real quick?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Thanks.” He slipped outside and pressed talk on the fourth buzz. “Hey, Mom.”

“I wanted to check in. Make sure you made it to Peaks okay.” Even through the receiver, her voice sounded weak.

“I made it here all in one piece.” He looked at the sky, dark blue melting into dusk, inky smudges of pinks and oranges trailing through the clouds. “How are you feeling?”

“Glad I’m done with chemo.”

The memory of her wasted body gnawed at him. How could Dad pressure her to continue when it caused her so much pain? Especially when Mom made it sound like the whole thing was unnecessary. “Me too.”

“Have you thought about coming home tomorrow?”

“I just got back.” And Peoria was the last place he wanted to be. Maybe that made him a coward, but he couldn’t stick around and watch her decline. He just couldn’t.

“Is everything okay, honey?”

“Yeah. Everything’s great.”

“You seemed so out of sorts at dinner last night.”

That’s because last night had been altogether disturbing. Watching Mom pick at her food. Watching Dad watch Mom pick at her food. His father might have put up a great front at the banquet on Saturday, but his mother’s ailing health was taking a major toll. Ian could see it in every line on Dad’s face.

“I told your father not to invite Cheryl to the banquet. I don’t know why he insisted.”

“I’m sure Dad had his reasons.”

“It was uncalled for.”

“Mom?”

“Yes.”

“I brought a date too, remember?”

“And I heard she was lovely.” Mom’s sigh whispered in Ian’s ear. “I’m praying for you, honey. Every morning. All day.”

Ian leaned against the brick façade and crossed one leg over the other. He wanted to tell her to save her prayers for herself. He wanted to tell her to stop worrying. It wasn’t helping anything. Not her. Not him. “I’m fine.”

“You sound like your dad.”

“He’d tell me I sound like you.”

The rise and fall of her laughter unclenched some of his muscles. “I love you, sweetheart,” she said. “More than you could possibly know. So does your father.”

“I know. I love you guys too.” They said good-bye. Ian slipped his phone into his pocket just as the door opened and Robin stepped outside. He cleared the gruffness from his voice. “Leaving your date early?”

She startled and pressed her palm against her collarbone.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Robin pointed toward the street. “My purse is in my car.”

So the guy wasn’t paying? Interesting.

She stepped around him, but Ian took her elbow. Her attention flitted from his hand to his eyes before she pulled away.

“You’re not very appreciative, are you?”

“Why should I be appreciative?”

“First, I saved you from falling off the ladder. Second, I found your runaway son.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Third, I ensured you’d be able to play the piano with ten digits, fully intact.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re using Amanda to get under my skin.”

Ian stepped closer. “That’s a bold accusation.”

“Is it true?”

Anger simmered beneath the surface of his emotions. Mom’s worry.
Dad’s disapproval. His growing exasperation with this woman in front of him. Why, of all things, did she have to be a beautiful widow? Why couldn’t she be a grumpy old man? “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Ian pictured her in his car, frantically searching for her lost wedding ring, and his anger grew. “Somebody should warn your date.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He doesn’t stand a chance, Robin. Nobody does. Not when you’re still in love with your husband.” The words tumbled out before he could take them back. Before he could stop and think.

Her cheeks paled, but she didn’t say anything. She pressed her lips together and stalked toward the street, leaving him alone with his regret and the last vestiges of pink receding from the sky.

The quietness inside Robin’s living room screamed. She jiggled her leg and stared out the picture window, waiting. Always and forever waiting. Her life had turned into one giant interim. This temporary allotment of space and time and breath that she didn’t know what to do with anymore. The wait tonight at least had a focus—headlights. Any minute now, Ian’s car would pull into her driveway and release Amanda.

Robin crossed her arms and her legs, as if attempting to hold herself together. She’d watched Ian escort Amanda from the diner with a sickening sense of dread, and every minute after had her nerves closer and closer to unraveling. She hurled herself off the couch and began a short-routed pace, wondering if Ian would walk Amanda to the door. Would she have to listen to them whisper and flirt on the front porch? Robin imagined him kissing Amanda good night and her pacing grew more frenzied.

“When you’re still in love with your husband …”

He’d spit the words out like an accusation, like there was something wrong with loving the man she’d married. Like death should make her stop. She fell back onto the couch and fingered her ring, wishing she could erase the memory of Ian sliding it on her finger. Squeezing her eyelids tight, she waited for darkness to blot it out. But it didn’t work. The memory had turned into a stain.

Where are You, Lord? Because I could sure use Your wisdom right about now
.

She took a deep breath and waited for something, anything. But nothing came. Robin felt abandoned, wandering in a desert with no escape. Pushing the air out of her lungs, she picked up Micah’s Bible from the end
table and flipped through the thin pages of Deuteronomy, drawing comfort from the underlined passages until her nerves settled and her eyelids grew too heavy to hold up.

Dreams came, fuzzy and disorienting. One minute Amanda was home, on the porch, kissing Ian. The next, a breeze filtered through her window and she was sleeping on the couch. Then Caleb was awake, running through the house, but she couldn’t catch him. Bethany was showing her a positive pregnancy test while Robin cried and cried and cried. And then she was in the desert and she was kissing Ian and Micah was pulling her away …

Robin jolted upright, her heart pounding. A car door had slammed. The house was dark and quiet and she could hear the car idling outside. Footfalls sounded up the walkway. Porch light spilled onto the carpet. Robin leaned forward, straining to hear voices. Instead, the headlights backed out of the driveway and a key jiggled in the lock and Amanda stepped inside.

Robin clutched Micah’s Bible and stood. “Where have you been?”

Amanda stopped on the threshold and held up her hands, her purse swinging from the crook of her elbow. “Whoa, major déjà vu. It’s like I’m in high school all over again.”

“Be serious, Amanda. It’s almost midnight.”

“Be serious, Robin. I’m not a little kid. Last time I checked my license, I was a full-fledged twenty-four-year-old adult.” Amanda came all the way through the door and slipped off her heels.

Robin swallowed. If she didn’t say it now, she’d never say it. “I wanted to talk with you about something.”

“Speak freely, my friend.”

“I’m concerned about you.”

“What, specifically, is your concern?”

“You just got out of a long-term relationship. I don’t want you to get hurt again.” Even if Ian was interested in Amanda and his attention had nothing to do with Willow Tree Café, the man was leaving. As soon as he realized he was fighting a losing battle, he would return to his life and his home in Peoria. It would be Jason all over again.

Amanda’s eyes darkened. “What makes you think Ian will hurt me?”

“You’re my accountant and he’s looking for dirt on my café.”

“Dirt on your café? What is this, CSI?” Amanda tossed her purse on the sofa table and headed toward the stairs.

“Would you wait? I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

Amanda clutched the banister and turned around. “About what?”

“Ian.”

“And your concern for my heart?”

“Yes.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your concern for me or any of my organs.”

“Of course it does. You’re vulnerable right now and—”

Amanda held up a flat palm, like a traffic cop directing the flow of Robin’s voice. “Why don’t you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“You’re jealous.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Any more ridiculous than you staying up until midnight to tell me what you think about my involvement with Ian? Or any more ridiculous than you spying on us tonight at Val’s?”

“Okay, fine. You’re right. The spying was messed up. But I’m worried.”

“Well, don’t be, because Ian and I are only friends.”

The relief was immediate and disturbing. “But I thought you liked him.”

Something clattered upstairs. It sounded like one of Caleb’s toys falling from his bed. Most likely a dinosaur. Robin held her breath and waited for her sleepy-eyed son to come out of his bedroom, but only stillness filled the stairwell.

Amanda lowered her voice. “It’s kind of hard to like a guy when he has feelings for somebody else.”

“Somebody else?”

“Yeah. You.”

Heat slashed Robin’s cheeks. No, Amanda was mistaken. Ian did not have feelings for her.

“The feeling’s obviously mutual. So …” The unspoken words settled between them. They turned Robin’s mouth dry and rested like a cold lump in the pit of her stomach. It took her several seconds to realize she was shaking her head.

“Why not?” Amanda asked.

“Because …” Robin fumbled for an excuse. For a reason. “I don’t want Caleb to get hurt.”

“Oh, come on. You mean
you
don’t want you to get hurt.”

Robin’s heart thudded like a bass drum. It beat inside her chest and her ears and her knees. “I had the love of a lifetime with Micah. I know how blessed I was. That sort of thing doesn’t come around twice.”

“How do you know?” Amanda stared into Robin’s eyes, her expression filled with compassion and pity. “Listen, I’m not going to deny that what you and my brother had was special. And I won’t tell you that love isn’t risky. But it seems a shame that you’d shut yourself off from the possibility just because you’re scared.” Her posture deflated. “Fear is not from the Lord, Robin. You’ve read your Bible enough to know that.”