Chapter 12 Willow
twelve
Willow
“You drive to work?” Lane asks me with a frown when I come back from the bedroom with my handbag, car keys in hand, after Noah leaves for the store. The bakery is on The Green, a two-minute walk from Lilyvale.
Beck is jiggling one leg off the footrest, his eyes bouncing between the two of us, a tint of amusement in his eyes.
“Going to see my mom. Time to face the music.” It’s morning, she’ll be cranky, but it needs to happen. I don’t like how we left things on the phone, and my usual text message check-ins aren’t going to cut it.
Lane’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline. “You didn’t tell her directly?”
“On the phone. She wasn’t happy.”
Beck hisses air between his teeth. “Damn.” Then, frowning, he adds, “So… now that No-no’s gone, you can tell us. You preggo?”
“Beckett Rowan Callaway!” Lane cries.
“What? It’d be cool to be an uncle. Just sayin’. It’s not like we can count on Griff for that.”
“Why not?” I ask.
Beck shrugs. “Eh, he’s messed up.”
“What the fuck, Beck. Griff is not messed up,” Lane snaps. I feel in my bones Lane’s protectiveness—I’ve been called messed up a few times, and it hurts.
“Okay then, why did he leave Emerald Creek? Why don’t we ever see him? He came up for Colt’s wedding but didn’t even spend the night.” I stand corrected: Beck isn’t dismissive of Griff. He’s in pain—misses his brother.
“He’s living his life.”
“Is he, though?” Beck’s bitterness slices through me. I want to know more, but it’s not my place to ask.
Lane sighs. “Not everyone believes the world revolves around Emerald Creek. Far as Griff is concerned, you and Noah might be the messed-up ones.”
I’d have a lot to say about that, but I keep it in. These are not my real in-laws, even if they’re treating me as such.
“I guess,” he says. Turning to me, he beams, mischief in his eye. “Hey, you want a tour of the house? Like, the grand tour. With everything. I’m sure No-no hasn’t done that yet.”
No, he has not. And for a reason. Imposter syndrome taints the warmth of being included in the family. “Sure, that’d be fun.”
I ignore the look Beck and Lane give each other.
“It’s my day off, so as soon’s I get back from my mom’s, if you’re still up for it?
” I leave from the kitchen door that leads outside.
On our way back from the airport last night, we swung by my place so I could pick up my car.
There’s a path that meanders through the garden to the carriage house, where the cars are parked along with some equipment.
It feels awkward pulling my Subaru out of Lilyvale, using the small driveway in the back that leads to Main Street.
I take a deep breath. After I visit Mom and sort things out with her, and once Lane and Beck show me around, I’ll go on a long hike.
It’ll clear my head. I’ll take Hunger Path, up the mountain, with a heart-stopping view of the valley down below and the surrounding peaks.
I’ll sit for a bit with my sketchpad and draw.
It always helps me to put things into perspective.
When I pull up to Mom’s, her car isn’t there.
Could it be at the shop? She would have said something, right?
I knock on the door and let myself in without expecting an answer.
The house is empty. One mug is on the drying rack.
Her bed is made, the window cracked open just enough to air the bedroom out.
8:03
Me:
Where are you?
I get in my car. On the way back, I stop by my apartment to gather a few more clothes, my hiking gear, plus my shampoo.
Colton and Kiara’s cars are both in the parking lot, and my guilt feeling tingles uneasily.
I didn’t check or notice that last night, but now I can’t ignore it.
They’re back from their honeymoon, and I’m due a visit to them as well.
Maybe later? It’s too early to knock on newlyweds’ door, right?
God, I’m such a wimp. I know the longer I wait, the harder it’ll be.
Kiara and I became very close friends over the past few years.
She taught me how to bake. I was her confidante.
I helped her and Colton get together. She should have been the first to know about my marriage.
Heck, she should have known before I got married to Noah.
In a nutshell, I broke the trust we had.
Can I break this trust even further by lying to her about the circumstances of my marriage?
What am I going to tell Kiara? Will she buy my lie? Can I even lie to her? What’s more important? That everyone believes we’re married? Or that my friend understands and supports me—and that I don’t lie to her?
My stomach in knots, with no answers to my questions other than I feel shitty about myself. I drive away.
8:40
Me:
Hello?
8:41
Mom:
Went shopping with Cheryl! Why?
That’s kinda early for a shopping trip, but sure.
Me:
Oh, great!
I expect her to ask me why again, but she doesn’t. She must be distracted. Having fun. That has to be good, right? Then why do I think she’s giving me the cold shoulder?
Because Mom doesn’t go shopping at eight in the morning. Not in her state.
“Back already?” Beck asks as I pull back into the carriage house. “Hey, Lane!” he shouts at the top of his lungs while I haul my travel bag out the car. “Willie’s back! Get your ass here!”
She opens her bedroom window and shouts back, “In a minute!”
“I’m starting without you!” he yells. Turning his attention to me, he spreads his arms. “Da carriage house, cos it used to be for horses and carriages, and now it’s for cars and shit. Not much difference.” Pointing to the barn across a wide-open space, he adds, “My digs. Stay out of there.”
I frown. “Why?” I can never resist a little ribbing, and I know Beck from the adaptive sports program on the mountain.
He still carries around a tinge of bad reputation from his teenage years, but now he really is just a prankster—and a player.
“You have to know the moment you tell someone to stay out of someplace, they’re gonna want to go in. I mean, you’ve seen the movies, right?”
“You mean the ones where the stupid girl runs to the barn when someone’s chasing her?”
“Ha-ha.” Switching my bag to my other shoulder and heading toward the mansion, I add, “Note to self: sneak into Beck’s digs when he’s not around.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Afraid I might find your conquests chained to the bed?”
“Ugh,” he growls, but drops the topic.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the basement of the main house, facing a brick wall, a bare light bulb projecting our distorted shadows.
“You see it?” Beck asks. His finger traces the contours of the brick.
There’s clearly a difference in the color of the bricks. And there’s a straight line where the bricks aren’t staggered. As if a door had been walled in. “Nope.”
“You’re fucking shitting me.”
“What do you think it is?”
“People have been known to disappear in the past. Visitors to Lilyvale. I think this is where they were buried. Walled in.”
So much bullshit, I can’t help but laugh out loud.
Lane sighs. “I think this is a passage to the store.”
Now that makes more sense. “Why would you think that?”
“Cos’ there’s the same one in the store’s basement.”
I shrug. “Why don’t you open them up?”
“Noah would have a heart attack.”
I consider this for a second. “Do you need his permission?”
“I like her thinking,” Lane says.
Beck shrugs. “Or we might find bodies.”
“Or we might find bodies,” I agree, an unexpected giddiness spreading through me as our easy banter carries on.
“Which would explain the weird noises at night,” Beck says as we retreat upstairs.
“I didn’t hear anything last night.”
“Oh, you will. Eventually.”
Jesus. Are they trying to scare me? We’re a little old for this, but I’m still having more fun than I expected. No wonder Noah is so protective of them.
I didn’t grow up with siblings, and with the way I ping-ponged in and out of Emerald Creek, I never could create a steady group of childhood friends.
Besides the Bitch Brigade, which Kiara consolidated to help save Grace’s spa last summer, this is the closest I’m getting to having my group.
I’ll take it and enjoy it, and hope it continues once the marriage with Noah is over.
“So this is where she hanged herself,” Beck says when we’re in the powder room of the main house. He’s referring to a local legend, presenting it like it’s this morning’s front-page story.
“Uh-huh.”
“So… like, if you hear your name at night, just don’t get up,” Lane says, looking dead serious.
An eerie shadow floats about two feet above and behind Beck for a fleeting second, and warmth envelops me. “Gotcha,” I say, my gaze pulled upward, a smile forming on my lips. It’s got to be the way the sun hits the old glass panel at this time of day, and they knew it would happen.
And yet.
They’re trying to spook me, but instead, it’s the unfamiliar feeling of coming home that seizes me.
It has to be because Lane and Beck are sharing their family lore with me.
Beck jumps, looking up. “Fucking shit,” he curses, slapping his nape as if a mosquito was biting him.
I laugh out loud, feeling part of something. Even if it’s pretend, to me it feels real. And after Mom’s brush-off this morning and the dread of facing Kiara, I needed this more than I want to admit.