Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Willa
It wasn’t that Willa didn’t try to get out of doing the Mackinac Island Christmas commercials.
In the previous few days, she met with three of her bosses, suggesting that other members of the team go to the island, as they’d be better suited for the task.
She said that she’d rather work on Chicago-based projects, as she had several client commitments in the city.
But her bosses insisted. “Gavin said these people want you and only you. Please don’t mess up our relationship with Gavin, Willa.
You know how essential he is to the success of this company. ”
Willa smiled and told them how lucky she was to have this opportunity. “I’ll get home and pack!”
Willa was in her Chicago apartment, her suitcase open on her bed.
After just a second of looking through her clothes, hanging in the closet, she slumped to the ground and put her head in her hands.
She didn’t have to check her phone to know that Amelie hadn’t answered her calls or texted her back. Where was that girl?
To keep her mind off the task at hand, Willa googled her sister and found almost nothing.
She knew that Amelie was trying to make it as a novelist, but all she had to show for it were a few short stories and articles from her time as a journalist in Florida.
As far as Willa could tell, Amelie lived a wild and ungrounded life.
It worried Willa, although she knew it wasn’t her place to say so.
Willa couldn’t believe she’d tried to call Amelie in the first place.
They hadn’t spoken in years, and they hadn’t seen each other since that disastrous trip to Tennessee.
It was as if Willa had gone out of her mind, as if she thought she could bridge the past and make peace. But they were far beyond that.
Willa wondered how many identical twins were separated so completely, as she and Amelie had been. She assumed it was rare.
Now, Willa was off to Mackinac Island for the first time since age eighteen.
She had wanted to tell Amelie that, to see what she would say.
Something Willa didn’t want to admit—though she had to, if only to herself—was that she wanted Amelie to come with her.
She wanted to drive to Mackinaw City together, drop off their car, and take the ferry to Mackinac Island.
She wanted them to walk down Lake Shore Drive together.
She wanted them to walk into the Caraway Fudge Shoppe and eat till their stomachs ached.
Uh-oh. Willa’s face was wet with tears. She hurried to the bathroom to scrub her face and dry herself off, and when she returned to the bedroom, she went into overdrive, throwing her clothes into the suitcase and zipping it up.
Could she say her car broke down on the way and she couldn’t make it?
Monday morning, Willa got in her car at eight thirty and drove out of a city blanketed in snow.
It was always bittersweet leaving Chicago.
It had been her home since age eighteen, the place where she’d come for university, the place where she’d struggled through numerous internships in advertising before nabbing her first gig after graduation.
(It was also the place where she’d given up her dreams of being a filmmaker, the place where she’d been forced to reckon with reality.) She’d had friends and a few boyfriends in Chicago; she’d had eleven different apartments.
But mostly it was a city that had solidified her belief that being alone was always better, because it meant you could do whatever you wanted, within reason.
She wondered what Amelie thought of her phone calls and decided that Amelie didn’t care anymore. Not about anyone. Not even about her twin sister.
It hurt worse than Willa wanted to admit. She prided herself on never showing her emotions.
At three that afternoon, Willa reached Mackinaw City.
Her blood pressure skyrocketed. Although Mackinaw City had always been “on the other side of the Straits” from her home on the island, it had always been the first stop on the mainland, and she’d known countless people who lived and worked here.
Like everyone on Mackinac Island, Mackinaw City residents worked in tourism and toiled themselves to the bone during the summer months, when people came from all over the world.
Christmas brought another boost, of course, but it was just barely enough to sustain everyone till summer came again.
Willa was distracted, turning her head frantically as she tried to take in everything about the little town, wondering what had changed and what was the same.
Even “What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blondes on the radio was from the past. It was surreal.
She took corners she’d only ever driven with her mother and father.
Georgia and Frank Caraway. How she’d always loved their names.
She stopped in front of the old candy store and squeezed the steering wheel of her car till her fingers turned bright white.
But Willa had let herself forget that she was on a set schedule. When she pulled into the ferry parking lot, the last boat for the next three hours was pulling away from the dock. “No!” Willa cried. She couldn’t believe she’d let so much time drift past. Now, she’d have to wait.
Willa parked downtown and ducked into a coffee shop that seemed relatively new and therefore safe, in that nobody would recognize her.
She hoped. She ordered a coffee and sat hunched in the corner, her heart throbbing.
She needed a game plan for what came next.
She took out her notepad and began brainstorming ideas for the Christmas commercials, envisioning various scenes.
In reality, she didn’t have to go to Mackinac Island to write these commercials.
She could take everything from her memories.
She knew every corner of that island. She felt she knew every tree, every rock, every animal.
She wondered if the people from her past were still there.
She thought of her family—extended groups of Caraways, people connected to the Caraway Fudge Shoppe, her cousins. She thought of family barbecues in the summertime and Christmases spent at one of their houses. They’d gather around the Christmas tree, eating turkey and stuffing and pie and cookies.
Usually, when Willa was invited to a Christmas celebration, she would lie and say she had plans.
She’d never told anyone why she didn’t want to go.
An old boyfriend had begged her to come home with him, to meet his family and participate in their traditions.
But the idea of seeing them all together, hugging and laughing, had hurt too much.
She’d said no. The relationship hadn’t lasted much longer than that.
He’d understood there were walls around Willa’s heart that couldn’t be broken.
When he’d dumped her, she’d said she understood. She hadn’t gone on another date for two more years, thinking, What’s the point?
She finished her list of commercial ideas and bought another coffee. She still hadn’t been recognized. She was grateful—but fearful. What if she looked so different that nobody would say her name?
When the next ferry was back at the dock and preparing to go, Willa paid for a long-term parking spot in a garage far from the pier.
She handed her keys to the valet driver, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-one, and watched as he and two of his colleagues removed her suitcase and her midsize bag from the trunk.
They piled them on a luggage cart and told her to have a wonderful time on the island.
“Christmas is amazing over there!” the twenty-one-year-old said, just before he got in her car to drive it away.
“You’re from Chicago. It’s night and day from the big city. ” His smile twinkled.
For a moment, Willa was taken aback at the fact that he’d known where she was from. But when he drove down the lot, she saw the license plate on the back of her car. Of course. He’d put two and two together. She had to stop overthinking this.
Willa boarded the ferry and grabbed a seat downstairs. Because it was late and already mostly dark over the water, clouds inked with blue and purple, and only a few other stragglers came with her. They lived on the island, she assumed. But she didn’t recognize them.
Just to be safe, she removed another scarf from her bag and wrapped it around and around her neck to obscure her face. She pulled her winter hat far over her ears, blocking her eyebrows. All you could see were her blue eyes and the tops of her peaches-and-cream cheeks. She could be anyone.
The ferry ride took just as long as it always had: sixteen minutes across surprisingly calm waters.
Willa could remember times when the water had sloshed wildly, casting them this way and that on the boat.
The Straits were where Lake Michigan and Lake Huron met, two of the largest lakes in the world. There was power in these waters.
When the ferry reached the island, Willa kept her eyes down.
She didn’t want to see the beautiful, proud houses on the hill, didn’t want to see the carriages and their horses, and didn’t want to see the warm orange glow in the windows.
It terrified her to return to this island, so much so that when the ferry ramp dropped and they were called to disembark, she considered staying on the boat and paying for a return ticket. She couldn’t do this.
But when one of the ferry boat workers came to check on her, telling her gently, “Ma’am, we’re here,” she bolted to her feet, made sure her scarf was secure, and descended the ramp.
The fiercely cold air brought tears to her eyes.
The only bags on the suitcase rack belonged to her, and she hauled them off and rolled them to the sidewalk.
As she stood there, she was overcome by the smell of fudge. Her knees were weak, and her mouth watered. All she wanted in the world was to sink her teeth into some fudgy goodness. At the same time, she knew it would break her heart so much that she’d never be able to put it back together.
She felt like she might faint.
Suddenly, a carriage approached: a knight in shining armor, her ticket away from the lively downtown.
It was perfect. She’d take a carriage and her bags back to the rental cabin for the following weeks, hole up, rest, and prepare for her meeting tomorrow.
Gavin had arranged everything. There was even food stocked in the cabinets and fridge, including a few of her favorites that she’d requested.
There was Wi-Fi. Tonight, she could watch bad television and fall asleep.
“Good evening, ma’am,” the man in the carriage said, slowing his horses to a halt.
Willa’s feeling of calm immediately splintered. She jerked her head up to see him, sitting with the reins loosely in his hands. He wore a soft and masculine smile, slightly hidden by a big black beard, and there were a few strands of gray around his temples.
It was Marius. Marius Isaacson. She couldn’t believe it. All day, she’d been terrified to run into someone, to be called out. Yet the first person who’d approached her in a carriage was Marius Isaacson. She could have laughed, but she was too petrified.
When she didn’t answer, Marius’s smile faltered. “Where are you off to?”
Obviously, he didn’t recognize her, not with all these scarves.
“Oh, I’m just, um. I’ll take the next one,” Willa said, trying to conceal her voice.
“Yeah? There aren’t that many of us out tonight, and I don’t mind a bit of a drive,” Marius said. “And the horses are eager to take you. That’s Cinnamon, and that’s Brax.” He introduced them as though they were his oldest friends.
Willa remembered how much he’d loved horses, dogs, and cats. He’d loved all animals. Back when she’d really known him, his soul had been the most beautiful, so tender and sweet.
“Come on,” Marius said. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go!”
Willa felt she couldn’t get out of it without revealing herself, so she said, “I’m going to the Rosemary Cottage.”
Marius’s eyes calmed. “I’ll take you there. Can I help you with your bags?”
Willa didn’t want him to get down from his driver’s seat.
“I got them!” she cried, hurrying to throw her suitcase and other bag inside.
She hauled herself into the seat behind Marius, her heart pounding.
She couldn’t believe he was so close. His strong back was just six inches away from her nose.
She wanted to call someone and tell them about this, but she had nobody to talk to.
She was alone in her nostalgia, alone in her pain.
It was just a fifteen-minute ride to Rosemary Cottage. She could sit here quietly, watching the snow fall lightly on either side of the carriage, and clop along. It didn’t matter that Marius Isaacson was her driver. It didn’t matter that, somewhere in the dark part of her heart, it felt like fate.
Fate didn’t exist. It was just as false as Christmas cheer.
It was bound to fail you.