by Wendy Vella
A warm hand slid into one of hers, and Willow gripped it hard. Macy had pulled a chair close and sat with Billy on her lap while Willow cried.
“Thank you,” Willow said after the last tear had fallen.
“Sometimes it just takes a friend to set you free.”
“D-did a friend set you free, Macy?”
“Branna.” Macy nodded. “Then the others all stepped in and surrounded me with love and support, and I’ve been stuck with them ever since.”
It sounded like bliss to Willow.
“My husband used to hit me. Branna found me one night and forced me to break the cycle.” Macy’s eyes held shadows of the pain that her husband had inflicted on her.
“I’m so sorry, Macy, but so glad you had your friends.”
“If you need a friend, Willow—I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I’m here to talk about whatever is hurting you if you need it.”
“Thank you.” Willow sniffled, then blew her nose loudly. “And my family are good people. It’s just…complicated.”
Macy sat quietly while Willow tried to compose herself.
“I hated my childhood and everything my family stood for. I was always angry and confused, and no one seemed to understand that. All I wanted to do was leave, and when I turned sixteen, I had my chance. I had applied for a job that I thought I wanted, and when I got it, I told them I was leaving.”
“Sixteen’s young to leave home and head out on your own,” Macy said.
“It was, and I was stupid and naïve. My childhood had left me completely unprepared for the big wide world.”
“Did they try to stop you, your parents?”
“No,” Willow said softly, realizing that part of her anger toward them stemmed from many things. She’d hated the life they’d forced her to live, and then hated them more when she left and didn’t have the skills to cope with what happened to her.
“Was it bad for you, when you left?”
“I made what I thought were friends, but they stole everything I had. I was left with nothing, and then I had to make my way to my job but had no way to get there.”
Macy tickled Billy. “Did you contact your parents?”
Willow shook her head. “I didn’t want to go back there.”
“What happened?”
“I fell in with a bad crowd and did things I’m not proud of, and the next few years were a blur of drugs, alcohol and crime until I snapped out of it.”
“You must be a strong woman to have broken away.”
Willow managed a dry laugh. “It was that or end up dead. But the point is, I thought I’d got over the anger I had toward my family, but today I realized I haven’t, and seeing them again isn’t a good idea, and maybe never will be.”
“It’s never too late. Telling them how you feel may help you rid yourself of those feelings all bottled up inside you.”
“I’m not so sure It’s been so long since I spent time with them, and they don’t understand me any more than I understand them.”
“It’s never too late. But now, Cinderella, we need to get you ready for tonight,” Macy said, getting to her feet.
Willow was pleased that Macy had dropped the conversation. She hadn’t thought about those days after she’d left home for a while, and doing so now, with her family close, wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate. She just had to get through tonight, and then tomorrow she’d think about leaving this place. Ignoring the pain in her chest that came from realizing she wouldn’t see Buster or any of his friends again, Willow got to her feet and went to see what Macy had picked out for her.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way I could get out of tonight?”
“Nope, and it would be rude to try.”
Willow sighed. “I thought you’d say something like that.” Macy gave her a smile. “I really don’t need clothes, Macy.”
“You can’t seriously want to wear suits all the time. Gray, black, blue—it’s not right for a woman as beautiful as you. Or any woman, for that matter.”
“I like suits.”
“So does my dad, but even he wears casual clothes.”
Willow felt a hysterical swell of laughter bubble up inside her at that comment. Her crying jag had left her raw, and she felt silly and unbalanced for having shared a part of her past that she’d shared with no one before. Well, maybe not no one, she realized. She’d said a few things to Buster earlier, which was another unsettling thought.
“Do I get a say in this?”
“Not so much.”
Macy brought the hangers over. In one hand was a pair of black pants that looked tight and small and in the other hand a black silk camisole and a short red fitted jacket.
“They look too small.” Willow pointed to the pants. “And that looks way too low-cut.” She pointed at the camisole.
“Strip now,” Macy said in such a stern voice that Willow found herself obeying.
After she’d removed her boots, she proceeded to undress. When she pulled on the pants that Macy had handed her, she was surprised they fit so well. “They’re a little tight, don’t you think?” She tried to check out her butt. “But really light and kind of stretchy.”
“Don’t you own anything other than suits?” Macy said, walking around Willow. “These are stretch twill, and fit you perfectly, I might add. “Your problem is you’re used to clothes that allow you to breathe.” She held out the silky black lacy camisole for her.
“I own other clothes.”
“Sweatpants and leggings don’t count.” Macy snorted.
Grumbling, Willow slipped on the camisole. “Can you see my bra through this?”
“No, the lace will cover it. Now put on the jacket.”
“But I can see down there,” Willow said, looking at her breasts.
“It’s what we women like to call cleavage, and yours is spectacular. You should flaunt it.”
“I’m sure I should feel uncomfortable with the fact you think I have nice breasts, but strangely I don’t.”
Macy fussed with the jacket until she had it just right. “Now look in the mirror and tell me what you see.” She urged Willow to a mirror leaning against the wall. “You can wear heels with those pants and add a few inches.”
Willow looked in the mirror and blinked. Her legs appeared almost slender, and her body shapely. The camisole looked good under the jacket whose hem sat at her waist, and she could see it suited her body. It was strange to see so much of herself when she was usually hidden behind her business clothes.
“It’s… a bit much, don’t you think?”
Macy braced her hands on her hips and studied her. “You have a beautiful figure. Curves in all the right places, and surprisingly long legs for a short person. I’m not sure why you insist on hiding yourself away in those suits.”
“I like my suits.”
“They’re for work,” Macy said. “This outfit is for play.”
“Okay, so that’s where I’m going wrong. I never play.”
“You need to.”
Willow felt fingers pulling clips out of her hair. “Why are you letting my hair down?”
“There’s a heap of it, and I want to see what it looks like,” Macy said, tugging the band that held Willow’s hair in a tail after she’d removed the clips. “I may have something pretty you can put in it.”
“I’ve just cried for the first time in years, and you’re getting me at a weak moment, but there isn’t a chance in hell of you putting ribbons or pretty things in my hair.”
Macy giggled, sounding like a little girl. “Ribbons? Seriously, Willow, what rock did you climb out from under?” She started fluffing Willow’s hair. “I was thinking maybe a scarf, or we could straighten it.”
“I don’t like to wear it down.” Willow felt a flutter in her pulse as she looked at the woman in the mirror. She looked feminine, and it was hard to believe it was her.
“Why, for heaven’s sake? It’s stunning.”
Willow shrugged. �
��It’s just easier that way.”
“Whatever,” Macy said. “Come on, we’re going to my place, and I’m doing your hair, and then you can go home and rest before tonight.”
“Do I get a say in this?”
“Absolutely not.”
She wasn’t sure why she allowed it, but Willow soon found herself in Macy’s house with her hair washed, dried and then straightened. It wasn’t until she reached her cabin later, with a few hours to spare before she was being picked up, that she realized it was the first time she’d spent time with another woman doing the things other women did together, and had actually enjoyed it.
She took the picture that Macy had given her of her friends out of her purse and sat down to draw Annabelle a present for her birthday.
Willow was sitting on the edge of a chair when she saw the car headlights through the cabin’s front window. She’d spent the last hour alternating between terror and excitement at the prospect of going out with Buster and his friends. Already off balance with everything that was going on inside her, she wasn’t sure this was such a good idea—but it was too late to change her mind.
Looking down at the tight black pants and then across the cabin to the bedroom, she knew she could get in there in seconds and change before Branna or Jake got inside. She could throw on a comfortable dress shirt and put her hair up into a bun.
She jumped when someone knocked on the door seconds later.
“Coming.” Willow slipped on her overcoat and grabbed her bag and the picture she’d drawn before opening the door.
“Hey, Willow.” Jake smiled at her. “I like your hair like that.”
“Thanks,” Willow said quickly, uncomfortable with her change in appearance.
“You ready to go?”
“Yes, and thanks for picking me up,” she replied, stepping outside.
“I doubt Annabelle gave you a chance to refuse, but you’ll have fun tonight, I promise.”
“No, really, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Branna told me what you said to her today.”
Willow had said so many things today she wasn’t sure what he was referring to.
“About us caring for her so much we’d never hurt her,” he said.
“Oh, right. Sorry if it was out of line.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder as she reached the pickup.
“It wasn’t out of line. It was the exact right thing to say.”
He opened the door on these words, so Willow slipped into the back seat behind Branna.
“Evening, Willow.”
“Hi, Branna.”
They drove along the lake slowly, and Willow told herself she needed to be in total control this evening, no more emotional outbursts.
“The carnival starts in a few days. Will you stay and enjoy it?” Branna asked.
“I really can’t. It would have been fun, but I need to get back to New York.”
“So, Buster has seen the offer?” Jake was looking at her in the mirror.
“No. I’m going to show it to him before I leave in the morning, and then we’ll start negotiating by email.”
Silence followed that statement and Willow was happy to let it settle in the car. She didn’t want to talk about leaving Howling because it made her chest hurt and her stomach ache, and that was just plain weird considering she’d only been here for a few days. How could you get attached to people and a place when you really didn’t know them and weren’t big on building relationships?
“I understand your folks are here for the carnival, Willow.”
She’d known that the news had to get out—after all, this place had a grapevine that worked faster than any she’d ever known.
“Yes, they arrived today.”
“That must be nice, especially seeing your twin sister.”
Why couldn’t she just brush those words off anymore? Why suddenly did she want to tell these two people that it was anything but nice to have her family here?
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound too confident about that,” Jake said, throwing her another look in the mirror.
“It’s complicated,” Willow sighed. “Really, really complicated.”
“We sure do love complicated, don’t we, Rosebud?”
Jake picked up Branna’s hand and kissed her knuckles. The gesture was so simple and sweet that Willow suddenly wanted someone to do that to her.
“Rosebud?” Willow said, trying to lead them away from the subject of her family.
“He called me that in school,” Branna said in answer to her question. “My middle name is Rose.”
Jake and Branna told her a few stories then about their school days, and Willow was relieved that the subject of her family had been dropped.
“It’s busy.” Jake drove down the main street of Howling looking for a parking spot. He found one as a car backed out, and soon they were walking toward The Howler.
“It’s getting colder,” Branna said, looking skyward. “I hope the road out doesn’t close.”
“It won’t matter if it does. Most everyone has arrived already, and the choppers will still get in,” Jake said.
“Choppers?” Willow burrowed into her jacket as a blast of frigid air slipped under her collar.
“People pay to get flown in to the carnival,” Branna said. “It’s been running for a long time, and we have a lot of regulars who come every year.”
“What’s so special about it?”
Jake smiled. “The food is outstanding, and if you tell Buster that his is included in that accolade, I’ll deny it with my last breath.”
“There are crafts and all the usual things, but it’s the atmosphere, I think. Howling looks awesome any time of year, but during the winter carnival, it’s magical,” Branna said.
“It’s the fairy lights,” Jake said. “The townspeople have been stringing up yards and yards of them for weeks now, and when they’re switched on it looks like a fairyland.”
Jake held the door open when they arrived, and Willow and Branna entered The Howler. It was busy, voices raised as they made their way through the crowd.
“Willow!” Macy approached, looking gorgeous in jeans, boots, and a yellow shirt. “Let me take your coat and I’ll put it with the others.”
“I’m okay at the moment, thanks,” Willow said, feeling sick at the prospect of removing it. This had been a terrible idea. She should have worn her suit, as she’d wanted. What would people say when they saw her dressed like this?
“No.” Macy tugged her hands away from the buttons and started undoing them. “You are not okay, and you’re not keeping that coat on in here, or you’ll end up boiled like a lobster.”
Buster could see Willow and Macy at the bar from his seat. They were having a discussion about something. Macy seemed to be trying to get Willow out of her coat, and Willow in turn was trying to keep it on. Macy won, and Buster nearly spat a mouthful of beer when it was removed. Willow was wearing tight black pants that made her legs look long and sexy, and on top she was wearing a short red jacket with something black underneath that dipped low over her exceptionally spectacular breasts.
“Jesus,” he whispered as she turned toward the bar and gave him a glimpse of her ass.
“Would you look at all that hair,” Tex drawled beside him. “Who knew she had that all tucked up inside that bun?”
It hung in a silky brown wave to her waist, and Buster felt his palms sweat as he thought about touching it again.
“Are you drooling, Buster?”
Dragging his eyes from Willow’s ass, he looked at Newman, who had a sly smile on his face.
“No. Why would I be drooling?”
“Because your girl seems to have morphed from a caterpillar into a butterfly.”
“She was beautiful before.” As soon as he said the words he wanted to groan, because his friends had all stopped talking at the exact moment he’d spoken. He fell forward onto the table and banged his head a couple of times. When he sat back up,
they were all smiling.
“You have a coaster stuck to your forehead, bud. It’s not a cool look,” Newman said.
“Did you just say a woman was beautiful?” Annabelle asked.
“Did you notice he didn’t refute the ‘your girl,’ comment?” Tex said.
“Fuck off,” Buster snarled, removing the coaster.
“But seriously,” Annabelle said. “Long distance relationships can work if both parties are committed.”
“The first sign that I’ve poisoned you will be when your stomach erupts,” Buster growled. “I’ve read that laxative is easy to disguise in food.”
“She’s sure a looker,” Newman mused. “And seriously, bud, if you’re not making a move then I am.”
The anger that rose inside him was like white-hot lightning, but Buster didn’t show it by even a flicker of his eyelashes. Instead, he took a slow mouthful of beer. “Since she lives in New York and is here just to piss me off, I don’t think there’s a relationship in my future, long distance or otherwise. And God’s truth, Newman, I think she looks at you more as a friend.” Buster shrugged at his friend’s hiss.
“The hell you say, Baker Boy!”
“Scout’s honor, bud. She told me you reminded her of everyone’s favorite older brother.”
He let the debate rage around him as his friends, momentarily distracted, discussed how old Newman looked, and let his eyes rest on Willow again. She was standing back from the bar slightly, beside Macy and Branna, who were talking. Surrounded by people, she looked alone, as if she didn’t know what to do to make herself fit in here. Her body was stiff, hands clutching the coat she’d managed to wrestle back from Macy. She bent toward Macy as she said something. Buster saw the valley between her lush breasts and felt sweat break out on his brow.
He needed to stay away from that woman and remind himself that she was everything he did not want or need in his life. She lived in New York, which should have been enough of a deterrent. She was also a businessperson, just like Jessica had been, and what a fucked-up mess that had turned out to be.
The problem was, he hadn’t felt this kind of attraction for a woman since Jessica had emasculated him, and his brain kept telling him that Willow wasn’t like his ex, which didn’t help the situation. Jessica hadn’t been shy or uncertain. When she’d smiled, it had been for maximum effect, whereas Willow’s smile was slow in coming, but when it did it lit her entire face. Rubbing the sudden burning sensation in his chest, he had to be truthful with himself finally. Willow was nothing like Jessica and never would be.