Chapter 14 Willa
WILLA
The day arrived the way it always did.
Not with fanfare or warning, not with any particular shift in the quality of the light or the sound of the town outside her window.
It simply arrived, the way it had every year for the past ten years, and Willa lay still in the early morning quiet of her bedroom and let herself feel the weight of it before she had to get up and carry it in front of everyone else.
Ten years.
She pressed her hand flat against the quilt and breathed through the tightness in her chest the way she’d learned to breathe through it over the years, not pushing it away, not collapsing into it, just letting it be what it was.
Grief didn’t get smaller with time. It got more familiar.
Willa had made her peace with that distinction a long time ago.
She got up.
The house was already stirring. Willa could hear Andy’s alarm going off down the hall, the muffled thud of it being silenced, and then the particular sound of a teenage boy moving through his morning with the specific lack of grace that she had accepted was simply part of the furniture now.
From Grace’s room, nothing yet. Grace was always awake before her alarm, had been since she was small, and the silence from her room meant she was already sitting with the day in her own way before she brought herself out into it.
Becky was the only one Willa checked on first.
Becky was twelve years old, and of the three children, she was the one Willa worried about most on Memorial Day.
Grace and Andy had memories of their father.
Real ones. They’d gone camping with him, heard his laugh, felt his arms around them.
They carried Shaun in the specific, vivid way of children old enough to have known him properly.
Becky had been two years old when he died.
What she carried was different. Vaguer. A sense of something warm rather than a clear picture of it.
A voice she couldn’t quite place. Photographs of a man holding her that she knew was her father, but couldn’t feel as her father the way her brother and sister could.
Willa had never been able to fix that for her, and it was the thing that sat heaviest on memorial mornings.
She pushed Becky’s door open softly.
Becky was already awake, sitting up in bed with her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes on the window. She looked up when Willa came in.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Willa said softly, walking into the room. “Are you okay?”
“I keep trying to remember dad’s voice,” Becky said, without preamble. “Grace says he used to sing badly in the car. Andy says he smelled like cedar wood. I don’t remember any of that.” Her jaw tightened in the way it did when she was fighting something. “I just don’t remember him, Mom.”
Willa sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know,” Willa said quietly. She didn’t try to fix it or soften it. Becky was twelve, and she deserved the honest version. “But you were so little. All you have to know and keep in your heart is that he loved you so much. The three of you were always together.”
“I know. But… I feel like I’m betraying him when I see you, Grace, and Andy get so upset,” Becky admitted. “And I want to feel that. I do feel the loss of my dad…” She swallowed. “Just not the way you all do, and that makes me… Makes me feel awful.”
“Oh, honey,” Willa pulled her into her arms. “You can’t feel guilty for that.
Dad knows you loved him. Gosh, whenever he walked into the room, you’d light up like a Christmas tree.
” She swallowed the lump in her throat as tears stung her eyes, remembering.
“You know your first word was daddy.” She sniffed and kissed her daughter’s head. “Not mommy. Daddy.”
Becky pulled away and looked at her mother. “Really?” Her eyes were wide. “You never told me that.”
“Didn’t I?” Willa asked. “Oh, sorry, I thought I did.” She smiled. You can ask your sister. “I was quite upset and jealous about it for a while.”
“Oh!” Becky smiled and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you for telling me that.”
“You were a real daddy’s girl,” Willa went on to tell her. “He even chose your name. He loved the name, Rebecca. It was his grandmother’s name. She was a hero, you know?”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Becky said again.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Willa said, feeling bad. “Your father told these stories to your brother and sister. I should’ve told you the stories too.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Becky said and smiled.
“We can make a family night once a week, and you can all fill me in with stories about Dad and his family.” She frowned.
“I’m going to need a new journal because I’d like to document them.
The way I’ve documented Gran’s and Aunt Carmen’s stories.
” Her eyes widened. “Maybe Gramps Dean can join us as he’ll have more stories. ”
Willa smiled. “That’s a brilliant idea.” She leaned forward and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “We’ll go and buy a journal together.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Becky smiled.
“Now, you need to get up and get ready,” Willa told her.
By seven-thirty, the house was moving at full pace.
Willa’s mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she worked.
Willa watched her mother move between the stove and the counter with a lightness about her that had been there for the past three days.
Willa had been privately observing her mother with a mixture of warmth and amusement.
She had been out every night for the past three nights.
Her mother looked like a teenager with a crush, and the town was talking about seeing June and Holt having supper together for the past three nights.
Walking hand in hand along the boardwalk.
One person even witnessed them kissing behind a tree in the beachfront picnic area.
Willa smiled to herself. She was happy for her mother, who hadn’t even dated in the past eighteen years since Willa’s father had died.
It was time for her mother to find happiness.
Willa liked Holt. She wasn’t too happy that they had been married to each other before and had hidden it from her and Rad for all these years.
It just seemed fishy, like they were hiding something.
Willa shook the thought away and let her mother have her romance, knowing that June would let her know when she was ready to talk about it.
So Willa had said nothing. She glanced at her wristwatch, and her eyes widened. Good grief, was that the time already?
“Mom,” Willa said, accepting the coffee June held out to her, “You won’t forget to ensure that Blaze has enough food and water before going out. Please ensure that the back gate is closed so he can’t escape again before you leave for the memorial.”
“I will,” June assured her daughter, her eyes scanning Willa. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine,” Willa assured her mother, and she was. Actually, she was a lot better than she’d been in the past nine years on this terrible day that brought back devastating memories.
They turned as Willa’s Aunt Carmen rushed into the kitchen.
“Good morning, family,” she called, looking just as young and carefree as Willa’s mother.
The sisters had each found a second, well, third in her mother’s case, chance at love.
And she couldn’t be happier for both of them.
It was also comforting to know that no matter your age, love was always around the corner waiting to offer another chance.
“Morning, Aunt Carmen,” Willa called back. “Are you and Zane all ready for today?”
“Yes, we are.” Carmen accepted a mug of coffee from her sister and gave June a strange look. “You’ve been looking far too happy these past few days.” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you done something new to your hair?”
“Nope!” June shook her head. “You were telling Willa about being ready…”
“Oh, right.” Carmen turned back to Willa. “Zane has his speech ready, and I helped Margo with hers last night.” She took a sip of coffee. “Zane will start the memorial, then introduce you, Willa. After you’ve spoken, you will introduce Margo…”
“Yes, and then Holt will step up to let everyone know about the case,” Willa continued. “Exonerating Gilbert Fry.”
“Then you will unveil the new memorial plate that has been placed beneath the original one.”
“We’ll cut to the hospital where Judy will give a small speech,” Willa finished.
“I’m still worried about that,” June stated. “I visited Judy yesterday, and she’s still very weak.”
“But she’s so happy that we’ve finally exonerated Gilbert,” Willa said.
There was a pause before Carmen asked June, “Has Judy said anything more about what happened to her?”
“No.” June shook her head. “Lucy and the neurosurgeon have forbidden us to ask her.”
“She’ll let you know when she can,” Carmen told June with a smile, then glanced at the kitchen clock and took a few more sips of coffee.
“I’d better get moving.” She set her coffee mug down.
“I’ve got to coordinate with the sheriff’s department and get the medical station set up before people start arriving.
” She glanced at Willa. “We’ve got extra deputies on the ground today and a paramedic unit standing by.
Given everything that’s still unresolved out there, Holt and I agreed we weren’t taking any chances. ”
“Thank you, Aunt Carmen,” Willa said, smiling gratefully. “We’ll meet you there soon.”
Carmen said goodbye and rushed out the door.
“Are you all ready to do the final Hidden Truths?” her mother asked her.
“Yes, but we haven’t really had time to get it together,” Willa admitted. “But we will after the memorial.”
“I’m glad Gilbert is finally being exonerated,” June told Willa.
Before she could answer, there was a knock at the front door that drew her attention away from her mother.