Her heartbeat is a storm. Loud. Pounding.
I listen to every beat. Feel every tremor of her body. This. This is the magnitude of her love, and I want to seal it in my memory forever.
We stay embraced for moments that seem etched in eternity yet end too quickly when Calla nudges my arm aside. With a bump of her large snout, she turns this into a group hug. Soon she’s licking us both profusely. “Is that her way of pronouncing us husband and wife?” Willow laughs, hugging Calla.
“She’s certainly taking care of theYou may kiss the bride part,” I answer, pretending grouchiness.
Willow laughs harder and harder, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “What was that with the shoe?” she asks between two fits of laughter.
I shrug. “Something you said about Prince Charming, when you turned me down the first time?”
“Oh,” Willow answers, her laughter subsiding. “Does that make me your Cinderella?”
She says it like it’s a bad thing, and I wouldn’t have a clue. “I dunno. Snow White? Little Red Riding Hood?” Don’t they all have a Prince Charming? “Which one has the guy put her shoes on?”
“Cinderella?” She makes the question sound like a terrible answer. Like I did or said something wrong.
“Okay then, that one.” I put her other shoe on while she’s too busy trying to make a point I’m never going to get, and pull her up to me. “We have a missing puppy, Cinderella.”
forty
Willow
Two months later
Sun shines through the crimson foliage, warming the crisp fall air. Amy’s roses are reblooming, the barn garden now bursts with the last sunflowers on a backdrop of violet-blue asters while the hydrangeas turned from baby blush to dusty mauve, their tips drying in places.
A raven croaks from the roof before flying gracefully to the barn, from where she watches me brushing Calla while the puppies, Muffin, Maple, and Myrtle, try to snatch the brush from me.
Lane sets two piping hot mugs of cinnamon apple cider on the garden table. “I missed this season so much. Fall at Lilyvale is just the best,” she says in a monotone as she plops on a chair, her empty gaze betraying her words.
Since Noah real-proposed to me over two months ago, we’ve been absorbed in each other, making love in most every roomof Lilyvale, going on overnight hiking trips, making a mini-honeymoon out of the Phish concert in Upstate New York, and spending our evenings into the night simply talking in the deep way that doesn’t require spreadsheets.
I’ve neglected my sister-in-law, and I’m concerned about her. She spent several weeks in New York interviewing for jobs, but now she’s back, helping Ms. Angela at the bed-and-breakfast. She even took some housekeeping shifts at Wendy and Todd’s hotel. She hasn’t said a word to Noah about where she stands workwise. I can’t give her career advice, but I can listen.
“Thanks for the cider,” I say as I pull a chair next to hers.
Today we took a day trip to Burlington to finish our shopping for Grace and Ethan’s wedding a week from Saturday, and Noah’s birthday after that. It wasn’t the right time to ask the hard questions.What’s happening with the job search in New York? Why the gloomy face?
And because Mom and Aunt Angela hitched a ride to the big city with us—it’s been great to see that Noah was right, Marcy did get the message that he really loved me, and she’s stopped bugging me about that—it didn’t give me the opening for a heart-to-heart.
Now my gaze rests on the pumpkin patch Beck planted, vines gracefully climbing on wooden arches, heavy gourds dangling by some magic three-to-seven feet over the ground, and I hope for inspiration as I take a sip of the mulled apple cider.
Calla stands with a grunt and sets her big head on Lane’s lap. “How did you know you were in love with Noah?” Lane asks, petting the dog mindlessly.
Oh.Maybe an opening? I knew she was going through something. Heartbreak sounds about right.But my heart skips a beat at her question. I never really thought about it that way. For so long I was convinced I could never have him, I give herthe simple truth. “I could never see myself marrying anyone else.”
“Wow. So if it hadn’t been him…?”
I shrug. “Then no one else.”
“That’s… intense.” She stops petting Calla. “Shit. How did you feel when he proposed to Anika?” Tears pool in her eyes.
I shrug. “Lucky girl.” Somehow this conversation isn’t really doing it for me. Rehashing the days when I was invisible to Noah isn’t what I want. “Is there someone you want to talk about?” I ask Lane with ayou-can-talk-to-me-we’re-sisterssmile. She’d been going on dates early in the summer, not coming back until morning—even leaving a few days with this Jake guy, who she even said she liked a little too much before she suddenly stopped mentioning him.
“I’m pregnant,” she drops.
Shit.
