The manor, p.3
The Manor, page 3
“I know.” Willow turned away from the cage and walked along the dusty path to view the other animals. She should have realized taking her mother to Rancho Las Lomas—taking Honey to any kind of zoo or animal sanctuary—was a bad idea. “She can’t live in the wild. That’s what the handler said. Her coloring would make her a target.”
Honey paused at another enclosure to watch a pair of raccoons snoozing in the shade. “She’s always lived in captivity. So, I guess, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she was released. She’d probably starve to death. It just seems sad. An animal that can run thirty miles an hour stuck in a cage.”
Irritation, hot and itchy, crept up Willow’s neck. “I didn’t bring you here to bum you out, Mom. I was trying to do something nice.”
Honey hugged her daughter. “I’m sorry. This is nice. So nice. It’s beautiful here. I’m just a worrywart when it comes to critters—you know that.”
Willow returned the hug, then broke away. “Let’s eat. I’ll get you a flight of wine at the barn if you set up the picnic.”
“I don’t need any wine. Bubbly water is great for me.”
Bubbly water was never great for Honey. She was trying to be supportive because Willow couldn’t drink. It was sweet of her. They made their way over the uneven terrain past enclosures of exotic birds and animals to the “booze barn,” as Booker called it. “I wish Dad had come,” Willow said.
Honey lowered herself onto the blanket Willow had spread on the grass earlier. “It’s Mother’s Day. I wanted you to myself.”
“If Ash had been able to get away, Dad would be here.” Willow’s brother was a Marine stationed at Camp Pendleton. His schedule was controlled by the military.
“But he couldn’t, and Book thought we’d like time to ourselves. It was very thoughtful of him.” Honey unzipped the thermal bag Willow had packed and began removing its contents.
A lump formed in Willow’s throat. Her father always seemed to have time for everybody but her. The thought was petty and probably untrue. If she voiced it, Honey would tell her how much her father loved her, and that she was being ridiculous. It felt true, though.
“Oh, you brought Brie.” Honey almost groaned. “I guess I have to have a glass of wine. It’s mandatory with Brie.”
“I’ll get it.” Willow rose and wandered into line at the barn. By the time she returned, Honey had laid out the food and somehow managed to make the simple offering look like the cover of Food & Wine magazine. “How do you do that?”
Honey watched as Willow dropped onto the blanket. “You’re starting to show,” she said, ignoring the question.
“You think?”
“If I didn’t know how skinny you usually are, I wouldn’t notice. But I do, and I can see my grandbaby.”
Willow reached for a piece of bread Honey had topped with a slice of hard cheese—no Brie for baby. Eating gave her a minute to collect her thoughts. She knew her parents were torn about her decision to wait on the wedding. On the one hand, they were old-fashioned enough to want their grandchild to be born inside of marriage. On the other, they didn’t want her to rush into anything. Willow and Jonathan had only been dating for a little over a month when she got pregnant. And they’d met through an online dating site, another thing her parents weren’t crazy about.
Jonathan had wined her and dined her, and Willow had wound up in bed with him after only a handful of dates. It wasn’t her normal MO, which made the pregnancy seem even more unfair. She’d only had two other boyfriends in her life: Carl Sanderson, who’d taken her to prom, and Drake.
She’d been sure she was going to marry Drake. They’d dated all through college. After graduation he moved to San Diego to take a journalism job. She immediately started applying for teaching positions in the area. By the time she found one and moved south, Drake was living with another girl. Willow had been heartbroken.
Maybe she had rushed into things with Jonathan, but he was wonderful. When she was with him, she felt like the most valuable thing in his world. She’d been worried when she saw the little line on the pregnancy test, and had expected him to break up with her, accuse her of trying to trap him for his money.
He’d been delighted. So delighted that a week later he’d dropped onto one knee with a ring. Which brought her to her current dilemma. Why was she dragging her feet about marrying now?
Honey reached a hand toward Willow’s face and brushed a hair from her eyes. “You’re awfully pensive.”
“Jonathan wants to elope.” Willow blurted out the words.
Her mother’s eyebrows disappeared under her highlighted bangs. She hesitated for several seconds then said, “And how do you feel about that?”
Willow pulled a grape off the bunch resting next to a wedge of cheddar and rolled it between her fingers. “I don’t know.”
“I thought you wanted a big wedding?”
“I do. He said we can still have one after the baby comes, like we’d planned, but this way we could make things official now.”
Willow could see her mother weighing her words. Honey knew how important independence was to her daughter and tried very hard to give it to her. “He does have a point,” she finally said.
“I knew you’d say that.” Willow’s words came out more harshly than she’d intended. Before Honey could defend herself or backpedal, Willow added, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I know how you and Dad feel about us being married before the baby comes. It’s not wrong. In fact, I agree. Theoretically. If you’d have told me a year ago I was going to be pregnant before I was hitched, I’d have laughed at you. But now that I am, I have to weigh my options.”
Honey lifted her face to the sun before responding. She looked beautiful. She’d come through the terrible experiences of four months ago a changed woman. It wasn’t only that she’d shed the stress and the weight she’d been burdened with for years. She’d also gained a kind of radiance. Facing death destroys some people, but others go through the crucible and are refined by it. Honey was one of the latter, and Willow was proud of her.
“I think I know what my problem is,” Willow said.
Honey dropped her face and gazed at her daughter. “Yeah?”
“Jonathan is rich.”
“That’s not a news flash.”
Willow held up a hand. “It’s different now. His father has died, and he stands to inherit a lot of money.”
“Money is a bad thing?” Honey’s eyebrows knit together.
“No, but it makes me nervous. It’s kind of like that tiger.” She waved her hand in the general direction of the enclosure. “If you have everything you need handed to you, it can make you weak. After a while, you can’t survive on your own.”
“That’s true, but wealth can also be a tool for good. You can be in charge of it, or it can be in charge of you. You’re tough, baby. My money, no pun intended, is on you.”
“So you think we should elope?”
“I think Jonathan is the father of your child whether you elope or not.”
Willow acknowledged the truth of that statement with a nod, but she no longer wanted to talk about it. “Did Ash call you this morning?”
“He did. He wished me a happy Mother’s Day.”
The conversation shifted to the latest news from Willow’s brother then wandered to funny stories from Honey’s shop—Sweeter than Honey Gourmet Cooking Supplies. Forty-five minutes or so later, a breeze kicked up, and goosebumps pimpled Willow’s arms. “You ready to go?”
“Yes.” Honey’s voice was heavy with regret. “I guess we should. Tomorrow is Monday. We both have to work, and you have a drive ahead of you.”
As they packed the leftover food, Willow’s phone buzzed from somewhere deep in her purse. She fished it out just in time to catch the call before it went to voice mail.
“Hey, Will.” Jonathan’s voice sounded strained.
“Hey, baby.” It’s Jonathan, she mouthed to her mother.
“I have bad news.”
“What?” Worry raised the hair on her already chilled arms.
“Mother collapsed. I’m here at the house waiting for Mat. He’s going to check her out. I don’t think I’ll be able to do dinner tonight.” They had planned to go out for Willow’s first Mother’s Day before she headed to San Diego.
“Oh, no. I can be there in—”
“You don’t have to come,” he cut her off. “Chloe’s with me.”
A stab of jealousy poked at Willow. “If you’re sure... ”
“I’m sure. You get home safe. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She disconnected the call and stared at her phone for a long moment.
“What happened?” Honey’s forehead creased with concern.
Willow filled her in on the call as they cleaned up their lunch. “I offered to go to the house, but he said he was with Chloe.” She bit off the end of the sentence.
They stood and began the trudge to the parking lot in silence. When it became obvious Willow wasn’t going to say more, her mother spoke. “They are twins, darlin’.”
“And?”
“Twins are, well, they’re different than regular brothers and sisters. Poppy and Reed were inseparable as kids.” Two of Honey’s siblings were twins.
Willow’s Honda came in sight, and she clicked the key fob. “Yeah, but they aren’t inseparable now. Not as adults.”
Honey walked around the passenger side of the car but paused before getting inside. “They still read each other’s mind. Your uncle Fitz told me Reed called Poppy after her car accident.”
“I’d call Ash if I heard he was in a car accident.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Nobody told Reed she had an accident. It had only happened an hour or two earlier. The family gossip chain hadn’t been activated yet.”
Willow pulled the rear door open and tossed the soft cooler onto the seat. “Maybe Uncle Reed was just calling to say hello, and he could tell Aunt Poppy was upset by the tone of her voice.”
“At midnight?”
Willow dropped into the driver’s seat. She hated these conversations. Her mother was a spiritual person. She wasn’t. People always thought musicians were intuitive and ethereal, but it wasn’t true. Most of the students in Willow’s performing arts program were like her, logical.
Music is math, as her Theory One teacher used to say. Notes had measurable values. Even a demisemihemidemisemiquaver, a note so brief it was difficult to hear, had a number attached.
Honey patted the roof of Willow’s car before entering. “Not everything fits neatly under a heading on one of your spreadsheets.”
“Well, it should.” Willow started the engine.
6.1.5
As soon as the last choir member pushed through the swinging doors of the auditorium the next day, Willow gathered her music and headed after them. She shoved open the door with her shoulder, slid into the hallway, and ran right into Jaiden.
The woman backpedaled, a look of alarm on her pretty face. “Girl, where’re you going in such a hurry?”
Willow hugged her stack of books to her chest. “Sorry, I’m headed to karate. I have a 4:30 class.”
“Your dojo has adult classes at 4:30?”
“No.” Half of Willow’s mouth tipped into an ironic smile. “I can’t stay awake after 8:00, so the 6:30 classes are out for me. I go to the teen classes.”
“I guess that means you don’t want to go out tonight?” Jaiden raised her eyebrows hopefully.
Willow opened her mouth to say no, but before she did, Jaiden said, “Michael’s band is playing at that new wine bar. I think he was nervous to ask you because of your music background and all, but I know he wants you there. A group of us are going.”
Michael was a sixth-grade teacher and a very talented guitarist. He also had a crush on Willow. At least, that’s what Jaiden thought.
“I can’t.” Willow shifted her load of books. “I have karate.”
Jaiden flipped a black ringlet over her shoulder and stuck out a trim hip. “At 4:30. Michael isn’t on until 9:00.”
“I know, but... ” Willow wasn’t sure how to end the sentence without sounding like a little old lady. She hadn’t told anybody but her family that she was pregnant. She didn’t want people to think that was why she and Jonathan had gotten engaged so quickly, even though it was.
Jaiden wagged a finger at her. “You know, ever since you started going out with that blue-eyed man, you haven’t been any fun at all.”
“I’ve just been busy.”
Jaiden tipped her chin and looked at Willow through her eyelashes. “Doing what?”
Willow gazed at the ceiling. She couldn’t keep her pregnancy a secret forever. According to her mother, she was starting to show. “Growing a baby.”
Jaiden’s eyes widened until white surrounded her iris. “No, sh—”
Willow hoisted her books under one arm, grabbed Jaiden with the other, and dragged her into the auditorium. The door closed behind them with a thud. “I haven’t told anybody. I mean, hardly anybody. My parents and my brother know, but even Jonathan’s family doesn’t know yet.”
“So, that’s why you and Jonathan got... ” she gestured to the rock on Willow’s hand.
Willow licked her lips. “Well, not only that. I love him, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what? I said ‘of course’. I’m agreeing with you.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.”
Jaiden peered into Willow’s eyes like she was searching for something there. “If you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”
“I’m happy.”
“Okay.”
“I’d better go.”
“Karate. Right.”
Jaiden followed Willow down the hall to the teacher’s lounge, chattering about her students’ essays on the topic she’d assigned, “My Favorite Pet.” Willow laughed in all the right places.
Jaiden opened her locker. “Ryan Fitzroy has a snake. Did you know that?”
“Ugh.” Willow grabbed her gym bag from her own locker.
“I mean, most of the kids have cats and dogs and guinea pigs and fish. Who would get a ten-year-old a snake?” Jaiden hefted a tote bag full of books over her shoulder.
“Especially one like Ryan Fitzroy.”
“Right? It explains a lot, doesn’t it?”
They left the lounge and headed into the hallway again. When they reached the parking lot, they both stopped at Willow’s car.
Jaiden touched her arm. “I won’t say anything about the baby.”
“I appreciate that,” Willow said.
“But it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re going to have a sweet, little person in your life soon. That’s something to celebrate.”
Willow was taken aback. A sweet, little person. Was that what she was carrying? She’d been thinking about pregnancy as a condition, not a person. She opened her car door. “Tell Michael to break a leg.”
Grunts and cries and the overpowering smell of disinfected rubber mats assaulted Willow when she entered the karate dojo. She crossed the large room, dodged a tangle of white-robed students, and entered the bathroom at the rear of the building.
After closing herself into one of the stalls, she grabbed the zipper tab of her conservative, school-teacher skirt and tugged. An ecstatic moan escaped her lips. Release and relief. When had it gotten so tight?
I can see my grandbaby. Her mother’s words played on the turntable in her mind. The next lyrics were Jaiden’s, a sweet, little person. But the song seemed to have been written for someone else, not her.
Willow pulled on her gi and decided right then and there she would wear it everywhere—to school, on dates with Jonathan, grocery shopping, everywhere. It was so comfortable.
As she opened the stall door, the diamond on her finger caught the overhead light. She paused, admiring the prisms of color in its depths. Her stone was white. That’s what the jeweler had said when she’d taken it in to get it sized, but a rainbow of hues was hidden inside.
It was a contradiction. Normally, Willow didn’t like contradictions. She liked life to line up like the notes in a musical score, the highs in the treble clef, the lows in the bass. Rhythms were stated in the time signature at the beginning of a piece and obeyed. One of the reasons she didn’t play jazz was that, often, it didn’t obey the rules.
She did love her ring, however. She removed it and stowed it in her wallet. No jewelry in class. That was a dojo rule. Rules were good. She liked rules. So why did her life seem more like a jazz riff every day?
She re-entered the dojo and moved toward the group of students at the mirror, but hesitated before taking her place. Willow was a black belt and always one of the oldest people in the afternoon classes, which meant she should take a senior position.
Today, however, she saw a handful of women her age and older. She glanced at their belts. They were white, which meant either they were less experienced than she or they were visitors. She took a place to their left. Karate was built on a comforting foundation of etiquette and decorum. She always knew where she stood in a karate class.
The sensei walked to the front of the room, and the students came to attention. “We have guests.” He gestured to the women standing next to Willow. “They’re here from a YMCA self-defense class to learn some of our techniques.”
The next half hour was spent perfecting a guard stance and various strikes and kicks to use against attackers. None of it was new to Willow.
She’d been doing martial arts since Ash turned eleven, had a growth spurt, and passed her up in height. That’s when she discovered little brothers were fun to abuse—until they got bigger than you. Then watch out. Especially watch out for little brothers who were obsessed with the military.
Ash had ambushed her, staged frontal attacks, bombed her from his top bunk, and basically made her life miserable until their mother enrolled them both in karate classes.
When the Sensei was satisfied the group had learned the basics, he divided them into duos to practice on each other. Willow was paired with a boy named Roger. He was only a few inches shorter than her but probably weighed twenty pounds less. She bet his mother sent him to karate because of problems at school. He looked like bully bait.
