Wishing on Willows: A Novel (40 page)

She stepped forward. “Yes, but I can fix it.”

Several people stood to speak. Robin lost her focus. Familiar face after familiar face stared at her from the crowd, and so did the memories …

Sitting like a rolled-up pill bug in the corner of a hospital room, begging God for a miracle. Whispering news of her pregnancy to Micah’s still body, hoping beyond hope that somehow it would pour into his ear and heal the broken places in his brain. She’d believed, with absolute certainty, that God could accomplish the impossible. He could have healed her husband. Nothing was beyond His power.

But God didn’t heal Micah.

And now Willow Tree was slipping through her fingers, the place she had poured so much of her love into over the past four years, the place that had given her so much purpose and hope and joy, and she found herself in
the exact same place as before. Certain God could save it, unsure if He would.

First Micah. Now the café. And Caleb—her heart and her life and her breath—would keep having birthdays. Last week he turned four and the next year, he would turn five. Before she knew it he wouldn’t climb into her bed at night. He wouldn’t want her to give him kisses and tickle his belly anymore. He wouldn’t want to play dinosaurs and dragons or good guys and bad guys. Instead, he’d be going to high school dances and football games and then he’d leave to college and meet a woman and get married.

Voices escalated. Arguments banded together. Not all, but enough. Ian didn’t have to say a word. He didn’t have to fight. The town fought for him. She closed her eyes.

Is this the way You fight, Lord?

The mayor called for order. He stood from the table and waved his arms for quiet. Mouths stopped moving. Silence hovered.

“Before we call for a vote”—Mayor Ford directed his attention to the podium, where Ian stood like a sentry—“I’d like to hear from Ian. Do you have anything you’d like to say?”

Robin clasped her fingers together. The crowd waited, expectant, and Ian did something he hadn’t done since stepping foot inside the chamber. He looked at her, his eyes darker than storm clouds.

He looked at her and dipped his chin toward the microphone. “I can’t do this.”

Benches creaked. People shifted in their seats. Robin’s ears rang.

An uneasy chuckle escaped the mayor’s lips. “What was that?”

Ian’s eyelids fluttered, as if emerging from a fog. He let go of the podium. “I can’t take away Robin’s choice.”

“What?” The mayor’s voice rose above the whispers.

“If she doesn’t want to sell, I don’t believe in forcing her.”

The mayor’s chest puffed out, his face filled with bewilderment and indignation.

“If you want to build the condominiums, you’ll have to find a different developer.”

And as if that comment ended the hearing, the hall erupted. Amanda and Gavin and Evan and Dad patted her shoulder and wrapped her in hugs. People jumped from their chairs, chatter growing louder with each passing second.

“Can you believe it?”

“What would make him do such a thing?”

“That’s horrible of him. Getting this town’s hopes up and quitting like that.”

Robin couldn’t breathe. The air was too thick. She excused herself from the throng of congratulators and pressed through the bodies, winding her way toward the exit, her heart beating like a caged animal. Ian forfeited. He was a move away from checkmate, yet he knocked over his own king. She pushed through one last crowd, so close to the exit, when somebody grabbed her arm. It was him. The man she couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Robin …”

She pulled away and hurried out the door.

The low sound of an approaching train whistle crept through Robin’s open window and filled the cab of her Volkswagen. Potholed pavement with faded parking lines gave way to patches of weeds that sprouted between iron tracks and sloped downward to meet the river. Robin took a deep, rattling breath and blinked at the sun sinking toward the horizon, casting pink and orange along the river’s surface.

The train whistle grew louder, sharper, vibrating the steering wheel gripped in her hands, until the cargo train passed in front of her, slow and steady—so unlike the exhaustion and shock rumbling through her body.

God had fought for her after all. He’d brought her deliverance in the form of Ian McKay. Her mind prodded his motivations with uncertain fingers. Why would he surrender after he’d already won? She fingered the edges of understanding, afraid to look beyond its border. The last freight car rolled past and the train’s whistle receded in the distance.

Maybe when she hugged Caleb, everything would finally sink in.
Maybe the joy, the relief she should have felt upon Ian’s forfeiture, would come in the arms of her son. She shifted her car into Drive, crept out from the abandoned parking lot, and drove to Evan and Bethany’s.

Dusk settled over the farm as she pulled up the gravel drive. She turned off her car and stepped outside. The sound of laughter floated in the air. It mingled with chirping crickets and the occasional spark of a firefly. Robin walked around the farmhouse, where Evan threw a tennis ball and Caleb jumped on his toes. The two Border collies chased after it, yipping at each other’s heels.

The screen door opened and shut. Dad came out and stood by her side.

A lump wedged itself in her throat, but she didn’t understand it. She should be overjoyed, ecstatic, ready to toss up the confetti and celebrate. So why, after such a victory, did she feel so much like crying?

He wrapped his arm around her waist. “It’s been quite a night.”

She rested her head against his shoulder.

“How are you holding up?”

She had no answer, but Dad didn’t seem to mind. The two of them stood, looking out over the farm as Evan threw the tennis ball one last time. The dogs barked. Insects buzzed. Cattle lowed in the distance.

“Dad?”

“Hmm.”

“Do you still love Mom?” The question escaped small and childlike. And while it took her by surprise, Dad didn’t pull back from the misplaced inquiry.

Instead, he tightened his grip around her waist. “I’ll always love your mother.”

Her head rose and dipped with his deep breath. “But you’re marrying Donna.”

“I am.”

A tractor engine rumbled. Evan steered the powerful machinery away from the fields, toward the shed. Caleb stood beneath a large tree, watching his uncle man the tractor, while the dogs panted at his sides like two furry bookends.

“The L
ORD
our God said to us in Horeb, ‘You have stayed long enough at this mountain. Turn and take your journey.’ ”

Robin’s skin prickled. She looked away from Evan and blinked at her father. It was an odd memory verse.

“The Israelites spent such a long time wandering in the desert that when the time to enter the Promised Land finally came, they were scared. Those Philistines were awfully intimidating.”

She wrinkled her forehead. What was Dad talking about?

“They were familiar with the desert. What lay ahead was uncharted, frightening territory. I have to imagine it was tempting to stay put.” Dad chuckled. “Sounds kind of silly, doesn’t it?”

Robin shook her head.

“I was reading all this in the Bible around the time I met Donna, and I realized that maybe it wasn’t falling in love again that scared me. Maybe it was letting go.”

“Of Mom?”

“Your mom was already gone, sweetie. There was nothing to let go of.”

“What, then?”

“The familiar.” Dad sighed. “Fifteen years after your mother’s death, and my life as her husband was still very comfortable. Like that old recliner I used to fall asleep in when you were a kid.”

Robin smiled. “Old Pete?”

The scent of gravel dust and hay wafted across the farm. The tractor’s engine growled, and her son’s small frame stood beneath the whispering leaves of the tree, watching the approaching machine, posture etched with longing and fear.

Caleb took a step forward and stopped.

The tractor idled. Evan looked at her tentative son. The one with a tractor bedspread and John Deere wallpaper. The one with an abandoned toy combine, worn with play and love. Robin wanted to go to him and help him get back on.

You can do it, Caleb. You love tractors, baby
.

But Dad stopped her. “He’ll do it on his own.”

Robin wasn’t sure he would. Caleb stood there, paralyzed, torn between the safety of the ground and his yearning. Until Evan waved. A simple invitation. And that’s all it took. Even across the distance, Robin could see her son’s shoulders square. He took a step closer. Then another. And another. Until he broke into a sprint, little legs pumping beneath him. Evan reached out his arm, scooped Caleb into the seat, and snuggled him in front of his chest.

The delight, the victory, the relief Robin had been waiting for—it finally came. She clasped her hands in front of her mouth.

Dad kissed her temple. “It was time for me to get back on the tractor. It was time to turn and take my journey.”

Turn and take your journey
.

The words rolled through her mind, again and again, until the last of the sunlight waved farewell and her phone rang. She dug into her pocket and spoke a garbled greeting.

“Is this Robin Price?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Doug Hanning. I was given this address for a delivery, but there’s a Closed sign hanging in the window and I don’t think you’d want me to leave it outside.”

“What delivery?”

“Your piano, ma’am. It’s all finished.”

Ian clutched the flashlight and strode through the grass, toward the only pond in Peaks. He’d spent the entire day praying and pacing, begging God for clarity. His coworkers’ livelihoods were at stake and he didn’t want to put an extra burden on his father’s plate, especially now that he was leaving. But no matter how hard he prayed, the unrest in his soul would not leave.

His feelings for Robin aside, he could not condone the condemnation. His mother told him to follow his heart and this is where his heart had led him. He couldn’t stand by and be a part of something that didn’t feel right. Ian would always struggle with Cheryl for what she did and he’d die before he became that person to somebody else—especially Robin. He couldn’t steal her choice.

Stopping in front of a massive willow tree, Ian turned on his flashlight. A beam of yellow light sliced through the encroaching darkness and shot over the small pond. Robin said she was okay with losing the ring, and while he believed her, he couldn’t help but think that someday she’d wish she had it back. He removed his shoes and stuffed his socks inside, took off his suit coat and rolled up his sleeves. He’d failed in love once before. He was terrified of failing again. But Robin was worth the risk. She was worth any mess that might result. He just needed to convince her that he was worth it too.

He waded into the pond and pointed the flashlight into the water, careful not to stir up too much silt and sediment. When he’d made lasagna in Robin’s kitchen, he told her that anything was possible. She’d looked at him as if he’d thrown her a lifeline. She wanted to believe it just as much as he
did, he had seen the hope and the desperation in her eyes. If he managed to find that ring tonight, then maybe they both finally could.

One of the men waved as soon as Robin’s foot hit the first step, his hand on top of a piano-shaped tarp buttressed between two dollies. Her momentum froze. This had to be a mistake.

“Evening, ma’am,” he said.

She forced herself to move. “I never bought a piano.”

The man squinted at his clipboard. “Your name’s Robin? Robin Price?”

She nodded.

“This is the right address. And this here number called your phone.” The man flicked the sheet in front of him, as if the phone number should explain everything.

“But I don’t understand. Who would buy me a new piano?”

“This piano isn’t new, ma’am. We picked it up from a repair shop this afternoon. A gentleman paid us extra money to deliver it as soon as it was finished.”

“A gentleman?”

He gripped both sides of his clipboard and held it in front of his nose. “Yep. A Mr. Ian McKay. I guess it got burned up in some kind of fire.”