CHAPTER 42
June
Hudson sat in the small studio apartment he’d been living in since arriving in Bern. He’d been lucky to get a stipend—again, that weird the-Fates-at-work luck—so it wasn’t eating up all his savings. The place was small, but he didn’t need much, and he was really only there to eat and sleep and do homework.
He’d been able to fully geek out on all things horology. He’d seen intricate antiques that were worth more than any car he’d ever owned. He’d learned from clockmaker masters about how they designed clocks, both in the old days and now. He hadn’t really gone in for chronometers, preferring the old-fashioned clockworks.
When one of his older instructors had complimented him on his work and his understanding of the mechanisms, he’d felt like he’d won the damned lottery.
He’d also befriended a number of his fellow students, even though honestly, most of them were younger. They teased him, calling him “old man” for turning in early rather than going out drinking with them, but they’d also admired his work ethic and taught him the particular German dialect that they used in Bern. He’d never been particularly good at languages, beyond vague memories of Spanish from high school (and when Jeremy had a Dora the Explorer phase). He considered several of them friends, and he’d invited them out to the farm if they wanted to visit the States. He got the feeling they’d take him up on it, eager to experience it themselves after seeing the photos and the updated website that Jeremy and Kimber had pulled together, and some impressive videos that Jeremy had made.
The videos themselves kept him in the loop with what was happening at home. They showed him that Kimber had gone ahead and gotten not one but three more goats, due to “increased demand” from her working partnership with the dairy on the island. The goat cheese thing was really taking off, mostly thanks to Patrick’s restaurant’s growing success. He still thought the guy was a douchebag, but according to Willa, he was becoming more of an islander and had shaped up, at least.
In the meantime, he’d shared photos and videos of his own adventures, small though they were. He’d taken the high-speed train from Bern to Paris with two of his classmates, seeing the touristy stuff, the Eiffel Tower, Notre-Dame ... and, of course, eating lots of good food, pastries, cheese. He’d also checked out the Christmas markets around Bern ... colorful, filled with great food, mulled wine, and big tankards of beer.
Otherwise, he mostly stuck around the school, focusing on his studies. He wasn’t here to have some kind of reclaimed gap year. He was here because of his passion.
Besides, all that food made him think of Willa.
He missed her, he missed her, he missed her. He missed his family, obviously, and he missed the twins ... but they were grown, having their own adventures. He and Willa talked often, but he knew that they both were getting frayed by the lack of contact. Not in a we’re-going-to-break-up kind of way. Just ... pining. He was getting downright sappy in his emails, for one thing. She was just as bad.
It was hard enough that he was thinking of calling it on the program. He could practically hear her voice in his head, though. Only three more months to your certification. You can still have your island life, and you won’t wonder what it would’ve been like.
Which was all true.
He’d even had a conversation with Amanda, strangely enough, since he’d made it to Europe. It had been around Christmas, and when he’d answered her call, she’d said, “The kids said you were in Switzerland ?”
When he’d explained the internship and all, she’d been quiet. When she finally spoke again, she sounded apologetic.
“I love this for you, Hud. Truly,” she said.
It felt like they’d closed a door, in a good way. He was happy for her, especially since she seemed to be making headway in her relationship with the twins, slow and small though those steps seemed to be. And he believed her. She was happy for him.
He heard a gentle knock on his door, and he opened it. It was his landlady, Mrs. Weber. He greeted her haltingly in German, and she smiled indulgently. “This is for you,” she said, then handed him a package.
He frowned at it, confused, but thanked her profusely before closing the door and taking it to his small table. It was from the island, obviously. A care package?
From Willa.
He opened it, then grinned. There was dried fruit, with a printed label that he recognized as Kimber’s design: Marigold Farm Specialty. The hard candy was watermelon-chili flavored and bore the same logo.
He knew that Willa had been working with the family on the farm-stand goods, and it seemed to be taking off. It had also expanded to “merch,” which was apparently what the kids were calling T-shirts and stickers and things.
The biggest thing was a photo book, though. Not just of the farm. Of things around the island. The general store. Mrs. Tennyson and a bunch of the elementary school kids. The boat launch and a squad of fishermen, grinning with their poles held up in a salute. Like a yearbook, there were people who had signed near their pictures ... words of encouragement and support. How they admired what he was doing, and how they were behind him 100 percent. Most of all, that they were looking forward to seeing him back at home.
Any thought of abandoning the program fled. These people believed in him enough to tide him over. He couldn’t do any less.
The last page was Willa, smiling at the camera shyly. She hated selfies, he knew, just like he knew she’d taken this because she knew he’d like it. Her words, in her beautiful script, took up the last blank page.
Hudson,
It’s been a year since I met you. Can’t believe that in that time, I made a home here and fell madly in love with a man I never would’ve seen coming in a million years. I miss you, but it’s only three more months, I keep telling myself. I can wait that long.
I’d wait longer for you. And this is going to sound cheesy, but I don’t care. I’d wait for you forever.
All my love,
Willa
He swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen her coming, either, but he was glad every day that Noodle had somehow brought them together.
Just three more months, he told himself, looking out the window. Then he’d be home with her.