Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Willa
It was a Saturday and the day of Amelie and Willa’s eighteenth birthday.
After a monthlong discussion, the girls had decided on a party at the house where they’d been raised.
They had invited every person from school, friends from the mainland, plus their parents’ friends—people who’d helped raise them, who’d been there through so many of their milestones, who’d celebrated everything that Willa and Amelie were.
Willa was up before everyone, baking cookies in the kitchen and listening for sounds from her father or sister.
With each step of the baking process, she felt calmer and more like herself.
Since the end of summer, she’d felt raggedy and strange, waiting with increasing agitation for her mother to return home.
But things had fallen into a sort of rhythm since then.
The four Caraways managed the fudge shop, with their mother spending her nights upstairs, while Willa, Amelie, and their father returned home.
Sometimes it was hard for Willa to remember that it had ever been any other way, that they’d ever been a really happy, normal Mackinac family.
Suddenly, the scream of the hinges on the front door sounded from the foyer. Willa stopped stirring her batter and stared at the hallway, waiting. Maybe her father had snuck out to surprise her with something for breakfast. Maybe Amelie had gone out for a walk.
But the person who appeared before Willa was her mother, carrying a bouquet, her hair in gorgeous ringlets, her smile a curious bow. Willa couldn’t help it. She flung herself across the kitchen and into her mother’s arms.
Her mother hadn’t been home since she’d left. It was remarkable to see her there, to smell her familiar smell. Willa shook with laughter and tears.
“What are you doing here?” Willa asked.
“It’s my twins’ birthday,” her mother said gently, her hand on Willa’s cheek. “I wanted to be here when you both woke up. But I should have known you’d be up before even me.”
Willa blushed and went to the coffee maker to pour her mother a cup.
Her mother removed her jacket, hat, and gloves and sat at the kitchen table, where the morning light glowed on her hair and skin.
Willa bit her tongue to keep from asking her mother if she was going to come back for good.
She didn’t want to taint the morning with a painful conversation.
Not long after that, Amelie woke up and performed the same ritual as Willa, throwing herself into their mother’s arms. “Mom! I dreamed you’d be here when I woke up, and here you are.” Their mother’s eyes glinted with tears.
When their father came downstairs, he didn’t look surprised to see his estranged wife, as though they’d both talked about it and come to this decision. He poured coffee and sat beside her, saying, “It’s hard to believe it’s been eighteen years, huh?”
Their mother shook her head. “I still remember it like it was yesterday.”
The story was that their mother had wanted to have her twins on the mainland, in a bigger hospital.
But the twins had other plans. They’d come nearly a month early and had been born at the clinic just up the road, where the father of one of their friends had served as doctor.
The labor and delivery had not been easy, and their mother had had to be in the hospital for a little while, her heart breaking as she watched her husband take the twins home without her.
“That was a hard time,” their father said now, his face serious, echoing love.
“But we made it through,” their mother said.
For a moment, Willa caught a vibe between them that was something oddly romantic, charged with electricity. But a split second later, their mother was up, suggesting she make pancakes for breakfast before they set up for the party. Their father was ready to help.
The day was off to the races, with all essential members of the family involved.
The party was set for two thirty that afternoon. An hour before, Willa and Amelie went into Willa’s room to get ready, donning their party dresses and doing one another’s makeup. Neither of them could contain their enthusiasm for their mother being here.
“Do you see the way Dad’s looking at Mom?” Willa whispered, clutching her mascara.
Amelie nodded vigorously. “They’re totally in love, right? I mean, they have to be.”
Willa sat on the edge of her bed and gazed down at her feet.
Already, she’d let herself imagine how challenging the next year would be without their mother: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter.
How could they possibly celebrate any of it as a separated family?
And what would happen when Willa and Amelie graduated?
Willa was secretly frightened that their mother would choose next summer to take off for greener pastures, for whatever life she thought waited for her off the island.
She’d see Willa and Amelie as “grown” and “not needing her,” then.
It would break Willa’s heart. It would break her father’s, too.
But maybe this birthday party would bring them back together again.
A few minutes before two thirty, the doorbell rang.
Willa and Amelie scampered downstairs to answer it.
Right before Willa tugged open the door, she caught sight of her mother and father in the kitchen, talking in low voices, their noses just a few inches apart.
Her heart seized. But she didn’t have time to investigate further.
As soon as the door opened, Grandma Mary and Grandpa Jerry barged in, carrying presents for Willa and Amelie, and swallowing the girls in hugs.
“You look beautiful, darlings!” Grandma Mary cried. “Eighteen years old! How did this happen? Jerry, are we getting old?”
Grandpa Jerry cackled. “We’re not getting old, Grandma. Just they are.”
Their father came to greet his parents, but their mother remained in the kitchen, prepping food for the party.
Not for the first time, Willa sensed animosity between her mother and grandmother.
She remembered that long-ago afternoon, when their mother had lectured Amelie and Willa about life off the island, how they should want something more than working at a fudge shop.
She guessed her grandmother wasn’t entirely keen on that kind of talk.
But there wasn’t time to linger in darkness.
Soon, their house was filled with aunts, uncles, cousins, islanders, and friends.
Even Rosemary, who owned the cottage far down the lane and around the bend, came by, carrying homemade presents and plenty of cookies.
There were two immaculate cakes—one for Amelie and one for Willa, with Amelie’s a strawberry flavor and Willa’s a peanut butter chocolate.
“My sweet girls,” their mother kept saying, hugging them once every half an hour or so. “I can’t believe it!”
About an hour into the party, a shadow darkened the front door.
Willa watched as her father opened it to greet whoever was there.
The eighteen-year-old boy who walked in looked far more like a man than he had last summer, with his dark hair and his stern expression.
Marius Isaacson carried a brightly wrapped package and wore a pair of dark jeans that made him look more like a rock star than a guy who worked with horses. Willa felt unstable on her feet.
“Uh-oh,” Amelie said, catching her. “I know that expression. He’s here, isn’t he?” Amelie followed Willa’s gaze through the kitchen, living room, and into the foyer. “What are you waiting for? Go say hi!”
Since summer, it had felt like Willa and Marius were circling one another, waiting for the other to make a move.
After their hangout at the lake in late summer, when Marius had suggested that it was hard for a married couple to stay in love, Willa had been angry with him, so much so that she’d avoided him for weeks.
Eventually, he’d tracked her down and apologized.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have your mom move out,” he’d said, his eyes wet.
She’d thought he was going to kiss her, but a few of his friends had come by, interrupting them.
But now, Marius was inside her house. He was coming toward her, carrying her present, his eyes filled with purpose. Willa raised her chin and tried to act like the regal woman she knew she needed to be (at least, that was how they put it in the magazines she read about love and dating).
“Happy Birthday, Willa,” Marius said. “And to you, too, Amelie.”
Amelie laughed. “I’m surprised you remembered it was my birthday too!”
Marius gave her a panicked look, as though he hadn’t expected to be called out like that. But in a flash, Amelie was gone, leaving Willa and Marius to gaze at each other.
“Let’s go outside,” Willa said, surprised by how daring she felt.
They went out the back door and stood in the October sunlight. Marius had brought the present with him, but rested it now on the chair beside the door, the one Willa’s father always sat in after work to watch the sunset. Marius looked like he didn’t know where to put his hands.
“How does it feel?” Marius asked her.
Willa raised her eyebrows.
“To be eighteen, I mean,” he said.
Willa smiled. “How does it feel for you?” Marius had turned eighteen about a month ago, but he hadn’t opted for a party, presumably because he was too shy for one.
“It feels like my life is about to happen,” Marius said. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”
Willa blinked back a sudden feeling of tears. She hadn’t expected that.
“Your parents look cozy,” Marius said, gesturing toward the window, through which they could see Willa’s mother and father in the kitchen, their shoulders close together, whispering.
“They still love each other,” Willa said gently. A few autumn leaves swept past them, crumpling into the corner behind the porch chair. “But you were right, that day at the lake. I can’t imagine how complicated adult life can get.”
“I keep hoping I can avoid those complications,” Marius said with a laugh. “Maybe I can outsmart the messiness of aging?”
Willa smiled. It sounded so naive to both of them, although they really couldn’t fathom what was coming next.
“I want a beautiful life,” Willa said. “And I want it here on the island. Whatever that means.”
Marius nodded and reached for her hand. Willa flinched but let him take it.
The last thing she wanted was to kiss Marius Isaacson for the first time in front of all her family and friends.
She wanted it to be secretive, for their eyes and lips only.
She tried to tell Amelie about it hours later, and Amelie’s eyes widened with surprise.
She wanted Amelie to demand more details. Willa, don’t leave anything out!
Willa and Amelie’s birthday guests didn’t leave till long after ten that night. After that, Willa, Amelie, and their parents collapsed in the living room, surrounded by the mess of the party, their eyes glazed over from sugar, laughter, and too much food.
“I think that was a raving success,” their father said. “What do you think?”
“The best party the island has ever seen,” their mother said, high-fiving their father.
Willa and Amelie exchanged glances. They were burning with questions.
Finally, it was like Amelie exploded with it. “Are you going to get back together?”
Their mother and father sat up straighter on the sofa, still smiling, as though they carried with them secrets that Willa and Amelie could never understand.
“You have to get back together before Christmas,” Amelie said, when they left her hanging. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them. “We have to celebrate the holidays as a family.”
Willa was surprised at how forthright Amelie sounded. Still, their mother and father wore those big smiles, as though they didn’t know how to answer her.
“Amelie, honey,” their mother said, “we’re still trying to work some things out. Can you be patient with us?”
Amelie’s smile faltered. Willa felt her soul curl up.
“But that doesn’t mean…” Their father reached for their mother’s hand. “You know that we still love each other. We’ve told you that. Over and over again.”
Amelie and Willa nodded in unison. Willa suddenly felt incredibly young, like eleven or twelve rather than eighteen years old.
“We’re working on it,” their mother promised. “We love you both, and we love each other. Be patient with us, okay?”
Amelie and Willa promised they would be.
But that night, Amelie crawled into bed with Willa and wept into Willa’s second pillow.
Willa could feel her sister’s heartache because it was the same as her own.
They wanted their family to be repaired so desperately.
They wanted everything to go back to how things had always been.
But maybe, Willa thought, once you turn eighteen, there is no going back.