Chapter 42 Noah
forty-two
Noah
Willow says she’s fine, but she’s not. It’s in the faint tremor of her voice. In her forced smile. In her brief intakes of air as she squares her shoulders against the world.
At least her body’s shaking is reduced to a base buzz as she relaxes against me. I wrap her tighter in my arms, willing all the hurt to leave her. Her childhood scars might make her who she is, but I won’t let these wounds rip back open.
The kitchen screen door clangs as Lane steps onto the patio, and I let go of Willow with the excuse of adding a couple of logs to the firepit and starting the barbecue.
I’m livid at how Gail treated my wife, but I don’t want to discuss this with my siblings.
It’s too close to what I’ve kept from them.
Hopefully the grapevine isn’t as bad as I imagine, and—
“So much for hiding from Gail at the spa!” Lane exclaims. She sets a dish on the table then wraps Willow in a quick hug. “Are you going to have PTSD for the rest of your life?” Grapevine fully functional. “I heard Grace was so badass!”
Willow’s distress from seconds ago is gone, and instead there’s pure glee. “Ohmygod she was the best.” Her voice rings warm and free, releasing part of my anxiety.
Whatever Grace did, I owe her.
The moment is cut short by the barn door slapping shut. Beck stomps toward us, brow furrowed, Muffin yapping and lolloping to meet him. Becks scratches the pup’s head, then strides my way and drops a six-pack on the table. “I’ll get the meat,” he grunts.
We grill together, Beck’s unusual silence welcome as I try to come to terms with Willow’s confession, while mapping out the possible reasons and outcomes for Gail’s presence in Emerald Creek.
Throughout dinner, Willow and Lane are the only ones talking.
Shadows of the bonfire play on my wife’s soft features as she sweetly encourages my sister in her puzzling job search.
I want to push Lane to be more logical in her life choices, but for whatever reason she’s stressed, and the couple of times I’ve tried to broach the topic of her next steps, she broke down crying.
Willow, however, manages to have a whole conversation that actually seems to make Lane feel better about herself.
“Everything okay?” I finally ask Beck. It’s not like him to not have anything to say.
He narrows his gaze on me. “I dunno. You tell me.”
The women stop talking, eyes on us. “Beck,” Lane whispers. The evening shifts from lighthearted to loaded in that one word from one Irish twin to the other. These two have something going on and are having a quiet argument about whether to keep it from me or not.
“What?” Beck snaps. “Did you wonder to ask why Gail is here? Why she’s stirring shit?” He’s asking Lane but looking at me. “Maybe Noah wants to explain what’s going on.”
Lane’s eyes widen. “That’s not necessary.”
“I’ll clear the table,” Willow mumbles as she stands.
“I think you should stay,” Beck barks, his gaze locked on me. “This concerns you, Willow.”
Lane sets a comforting hand on my wife’s forearm. “Of course! Anything in the family concerns Willow.”
“Beck,” I warn. If he’s figured it out, surely he understands it can’t come out. Not now, and probably not ever.
Beck clenches his jaw. “I tried to understand. Tried to put myself in your shoes. And sure, I get everything you did for us, back in the day. But this is too far. You shouldn’t have kept us in the dark.”
Cold runs down my back as I scramble to say something.
Beck uncaps a beer—his second. “Griff says you can’t help yourself.” He pulls on his beer.
“Griff? What does Griff have to do with… anything?"
“That’s all you got?” Beck smirks. “You’re worried about what Griff thinks?”
“Beck!” Lane hisses.
Beck burps and waves his beer bottle my way. “Are you gonna tell our sister?”
“Tell me what?”
Willow’s cutlery clinks against her plate. “Nothing… nothing major. We uh—”
My heart hammers in my chest. “Willow,” I warn her.
“It’s okay, Noah. You—we can’t keep this to ourselves forever.”
She’s right, and the idea of sharing this burden feels close to relief. Yet the familiar panic takes over; It’s simply too big. “It can wait,” I plead, knowing it’s way too late for that.
“Can it, though? What are you gonna do when it comes out?” Beck sneers.
“What are you talking about?” Lane asks. “There’s nothing to be done.”
“Your family—” Willow starts.
“It’s yours too,” Lane interrupts.
“The Callaway family has a trust—"
“Jesus, yes, I know. Why does everyone always treat me like a baby?” Lane looks at each of us in turn.
Beck rolls his eyes. “That is so not the point.”
“The point is, they’re married. So what is Cruella’s fucking problem?
” A stunned silence falls around the table, until Lane continues, “I mean we all know why they did it, but they did it, right? Not only did they do the getting married part but they’re also doing the doing it part so…
for all intents and purposes the trustee has met the condition and Gail can go fuck herself. ”
Beck’s jaw clenches. Vaguely aware that the loud pounding inside my chest is just my heart, I feel my mouth hang open. Willow seems to have stopped breathing.
“Or did I miss something else?” Lane asks.
“When did you find out?” Beck grits out.
She grabs a beer, then sets it back on the table. “I always knew.”
I glance at Willow, her wide eyes and paleness mirroring my thoughts. If Beck and Lane know, there’s bound to be other people—less scrupulous people—who could come forward or be convinced by Gail to share what they know. How will this affect us legally?
The more I think about it, the more I can see how this whole running to Vegas to get married a few months before my birthday only threw a mask on the problem and created many more.
After a few charged moments, Beck rubs his face. “How did you find out?”
Throughout the million thoughts crossing my mind right now, the one that tops them and seems to bother me the most is the realization that Beck is hurting from feeling left out. But what was I supposed to do?
Lane scoffs. “Oh, come on. It’s all in the office safe.” I’m not going to ask her how she knows the combination. If she’d asked me, I would have given it to her. If Griff, Beck, or Lane had asked to see the trust or any of the Callaway papers, I’d have shared.
But they never did.
The shadow of a smile plays on Lane’s face when she taunts Beck. “You never looked?” Resisting the temptation to mock him, she sets her gaze on me. “You didn’t need to carry all this on your own. But I understand.” With a pointed glance at Beck she adds, “And I’m grateful you did.”
Beck stands, his chair rattling on the flagstone. “It’s messed up,” he says, looking uneasily between Willow and me.
I take Willow’s hand, the feeling of her fingers closing on mine all I need.
Lane leans back in her chair. “Arranged marriages are common in other cultures. There’s nothing inherently messed up about it.”
Beck runs a hand in his hair. “But this was fake.”
“Was it, though?” Lane asks.
A small smile plays on my wife’s face. “Didn’t feel like it,” she whispers.
I pull her to me, kissing her lips lightly.
“Aw please!” Beck all but yells, and Muffin yaps and jumps on Beck.
Beck crouches and ruffles Muffin, jaw still set.
“Come and finish your beer,” I tell him.
I want to ask Lane how long she’s known, but then I might have to answer questions about why I kept this to myself. Maybe another time.
“Beck, seriously, Noah and Willow were always meant to be together,” Lane says.
My heart thumps. As if she hadn’t dropped enough bombs yet. What is she even talking about?
“Oh, come on!” she cries, looking between Beck and me.
“Like you don’t know Mom always had a soft spot for her.
Always said she loved Willow’s drawings because she captured the soul of Lilyvale.
” Beck snorts, but Lane ignores him. “No one else ever spent hours in the garden, drawing and painting. I remember Mom telling me I shouldn’t bother her.
That she needed this time to herself. That Lilyvale was a refuge for her, but that one day, Willow would be Lilyvale’s refuge. ”
Willow’s hand is spasmodically clenching mine, tears falling down her cheeks.
“No one else?!” Lane looks, astonished, between Beck and me.
“I just thought she meant Willow had enough shit in her life, we needed to let her be when she was here,” Beck says.
Same, brother. What the hell?
“You never said anything,” Willow says in a voice so raw I barely recognize it. She bites her lip to stop the trembling.
Lane smiles softly at her. “It all made sense to me at Colt and Kiara’s wedding. Except this idiot was supposed to fall in love before proposing.”
Idiot sums it up, and it’s not the first time I’ve felt like one.
Willow’s grip on my hand has loosened, replaced by a soft stroke. “He was too worried about the estate, and what it would do to you guys if he lost it, to think about himself. Or to worry about falling in love.”
Beck clears his throat. His gaze is still fixed on mine, but the animosity is replaced by an eagerness to help. “So what are we gonna do? About Gail.”
The hell if I know. “We don’t know what she wants.”
“So what—we just wait?”
Pretty much. “A while back she filed some paperwork about our marriage not holding water. But she hasn’t continued that—at least not in court. Your guess is as good as mine as to why she’s in Emerald Creek.”
Beck stands and stretches with a grunt. “We can ask around at Ethan and Grace’s wedding. See if anyone knows anything. If she’s been asking questions about you guys.”
“No one at Game Nights believes there’s anything weird about your marriage,” Lane says. “I did some recon when you were gone for the Phish concert.”
“Oh yeah, the second one we couldn’t come to.” Beck pretends to complain, but his smirk belies his words.
I shrug, warmth spreading inside me at my brother’s change of attitude. “It was our honeymoon.”
“You asked about us at Game Nights?” Willow asks, clearly shocked.
“Don’t worry. I’m skilled at getting people to talk without asking obvious questions.”
“And?” I ask.
“And everyone thinks it was about time you got your head out of your ass and saw what was right in front of you.”
That evening in bed, Willow cuddled on my chest while we catch our breath, the sweet scent of sex in the air, I start chuckling stupidly.
“What?” she asks.
“Remember how we used to “study” each other? Did you ever answer all those questions we came up with?” The idea seems so silly now.
She sits up in bed, pulls the sheet up to cover her breasts. “Yeah. I put it in an online document folder so we could add to it from our phones. Remember? I did my homework.”
I pull the sheet down to her waist, watching as her nipples pebble under my light touch.
“Maybe?” I don’t remember that at all. But now I’m curious what she put there, so I grab my phone and open the spreadsheet I’d all but forgotten about.
A line catches my eye, under Heartbreaks—something Willow must have added herself.
Mom lied to me because she didn’t think I could handle the truth.
I scoop her so she’s straddling me. I want her full attention.
“I don’t care about your politics or how you talk to God or even your first kiss, though I’m mildly jealous of the fucker.
I already know you don’t care for blueberries but you’d get in a fight for the last blackberry.
That the way you take your coffee depends on the weather, but you got to have almond milk because soy gives you inflammation and oat milk bellyaches and real milk the shits.
I know the sound you make when you’re about to come, but I’d kill anyone who’d even go there and ask.
I’ll never admit knowing your clothes size, and I love that you buy cruelty-free shit for your face. ”
There’s so much more I want to tell Willow. How she’s permeated every aspect of my life. How she’s part of me. How sometimes I’m scared this is all a dream and I’ll wake up alone, terrorized not about losing the estate, but about going through life without my dream girl.
But there’s one thing I need to do for her.
“What really, really makes me sad is that you’re carrying into this beautiful life of yours a pain that your mother gave you—her lie—but really she just wanted you to be shielded from the ugliness of the world.
And I almost think I should thank her for that.
Because all the shit that was going on in her life and yours, you didn’t deserve it and she knew it.
So kudos to her for lying to you if she thought that would make it less painful. ”
She cups my face in her hands. “I was always right about you. You’re the best there is. The only one for me.” The tenderness in her gaze is so deep it brings tears to my eyes.