Under The Willows (Jackson Bay #1)

by Ciara Shayee

  That little girl, my little girl, she was my everything. My whole world in one petite little spitfire five-year-old.

  A split second and an out-of-control car stole her from me.

  A broken promise gave them the opportunity.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Kellan.”

  Piper must see the flash of surprise in my eyes. She smiles humorlessly, stroking my cheek. I realize she was catching a fallen tear when she brushes another from my other cheek.

  “It wasn’t,” she says again, firmer this time. “I can see the guilt all over your face. You didn’t get in that car and you didn’t make it swerve. You did everything you could.”

  The doctor said the same thing the day before Willow died. I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t believe it now. If I’d just been there…

  “Sorry, one second. That’s my wife’s ringtone,” I tell the contractor with a chuckle, setting down the upholstery catalogue to job over to my phone on the bar. “Shan, what’s up?”

  Her agitated tone immediately has my back up, but her words cut my annoyance to the quick. “I’ve just had a call from Willow’s teacher. Why aren’t you there to pick her up?”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I said I’d get her today, didn’t I? I’ll leave now, right this second. Is she okay?”

  Shannon huffs, and I can hear other voices in the background, but they’re muffled. “She’s fine, just…hurry up.”

  After apologizing to the contractor and promising to be back in twenty, I run out of Burger Co. to the Jeep parked right outside. Thankfully, Willow’s preschool is only a few minutes away. Deciding we’ll have time to grab an ice cream on the way back to the restaurant, I’m confident my princess will forgive me for running late. Honestly, with how busy we’ve been at Burger Co. the last couple of weeks, I’d completely forgotten that Shannon was going to be in Jacksonville for work today and I’m supposed to be picking her up. I do the school drop-offs and pick-ups most days, so it’s totally not like me to forget.

  As I pull onto the side of the road by the school, I spot her. Dressed in the bright yellow sundress she picked out this morning, Willow waves like a mad thing and bounces in her red rain boots. The girl is adorable, but she has zero fashion sense. I love that about her.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Mrs. McKinney,” I blurt out as soon as I’m close enough, the Jeep still idling in its spot behind me. “Time slipped away from me and I forgot my wife wouldn’t be here.”

  Mrs. McKinney smiles, waving off my apology. “It’s no problem, Mr. Patterson. Willow here is a great helper. We got the classroom all tidied up and squared away nice and neat for tomorrow, didn’t we, sweetie?”

  Beaming with pride, Willow nods and plays with one of her pigtails. They were a whole lot tidier when I did them this morning, that’s for sure. At this point, I’m a pro at manhandling her curls into piggies, fishtail braids, and the like. “We did, Daddy. It’s super tidy now.”

  “I bet. How about you come back to Burger Co. and help Daddy get that all tidy, too?”

  “Sure thing, Daddy, but it’ll cost you a choco chip shake!”

  A chocolate chip shake is a lot easier than the twenty minutes we’ll inevitably spend choosing toppings in the ice creamery…“Done and done. Run and jump in the car and we’ll get you that shake.”

  “’Kay. Bye, Mrs. McKinney!”

  I’m seconds behind her. Less, maybe. I pause to thank her teacher again and turn to follow Willow, but she’s only in front of me for a second. I’ll never forget the screech of brakes or the crunch of metal just as she climbs into the backseat and the car slams into the trunk.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” I hear over the sounds of wheezing.

  Piper crawls over me, rooting me to the bed with her warm weight and her soothing words. It takes a moment for me to realize that the struggle for breath is mine, the wheezing is me as I relive one of the worst days of my life.

  *

  Brushing a feather-soft kiss over Piper’s forehead, I wait with bated breath to see if it will wake her; it doesn’t. She sleeps soundly, her lips curled in a small smile.

  Quietly, I leave her bedroom after writing a note to thank her for last night and promise to call her later. Right now, I need some space to think.

  The air outside is stiflingly hot, sweat almost instantly beading on my brow. Only once I’ve cranked up the A/C in the Jeep do I pull away from Piper’s house, shooting one last glance at the little home that’s been on my street since before I moved in, but never held more significance to me than it does now.

  Instead of heading home, I keep driving until I find myself outside a familiar building. The light catches on the little array of multi-colored windmills lining the path to the front door. With no breeze to make them spin, they stand still and bright in the early morning sun. A twitch of the curtains in the upstairs window doesn’t register as my mind twists to make up for the motionless windmills.

  Remembering the accident, remembering Willow, has opened up the floodgates. Years of repressed trauma has come rushing back. Years of smiles and laughter and joy, but also of confusion and pain. Of loss and betrayal.

  My chest aches as words hurled in an effort to hurt me replay on a loop.

  “She’s not even—”

  “Kellan?”

  Even muffled, Kendra’s voice is the proverbial bucket of cold water I need to pull myself out of my head. Her blue eyes are narrowed as she taps on the window before motioning at the gate leading to the back yard.

  “My office is unlocked and the coffee machine is switched on. Help yourself and I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Nodding stiffly, I watch her walk back up the path and into her house. It takes me a few minutes to gather myself enough to leave the Jeep and follow the familiar stepping stone path across the grass. The gate swings open with a soft squeak. Immediately, the soothing sound of running water starts to calm my frayed nerves. Not the sea, but the small pond in the corner of the yard.

  Inhaling a lungful of fresh air, I follow the stepping stones further until I reach the worn ‘welcome’ mat leading into Kendra’s office. It’s more of a shed than an actual building, really, and I have to bend and duck my head to avoid hitting it on the doorframe as I step inside.

  As promised, Kendra doesn’t keep me waiting long. I’ve barely sat on the chair in the corner when she appears. She’s changed out of her pajamas, now wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and sandals. She’s the total opposite of what I expected from a therapist, not that I’d never anticipated needing one until it became necessary.

  “What’s happened? I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that something has, or you wouldn’t be sitting outside my house at six-thirty on a Thursday morning.”

  “It’s six-thirty?” I wonder, frowning at the still-rising sun through the porthole window. It’s hot for so early, even by Florida standards.

  “It was, when you arrived. It’s seven now.”

  It could be ten seconds, but it could be ten minutes before she softly clears her throat and raises her eyebrows at me, her hands tented in her lap and her expression expectant.

  Right. “I’m having trouble organizing my thoughts.” Let’s start with that.

  Kendra nods. “All right. How is that making you feel?”

  “Confused…” I trail off, raking a hand through my hair. I realize my hand is trembling when a splash of hot coffee hits my leg. Setting it on the table next to me, I sigh. “It’s…I don’t know where to start.”

  “Try the beginning.”

  The narrowing of Kendra’s gaze tells me she didn’t miss my flinch. Those were Piper’s words, too.

  “The beginning…” I whisper, shaking my head as my stomach twists and turns.

  “Has something changed recently in your day-to-day life? We haven’t seen each other for a few weeks. When you rescheduled your appointment, I guessed you were busy with the restaurant and decided to give y
ou the month. I know this time of year is busy for you.”

  “It is,” I agree, a sardonic smirk curling my lips. “I like being busy.”

  She smiles, too. “I know you do. It’s one of the things I first noticed about you. Keeping your mind occupied is a coping mechanism you revert back to in times of stress or confusion.”

  It’s something I didn’t know about myself until she pointed it out, but it’s obvious now.

  There’s something I do need to admit, though. “I didn’t reschedule because I’ve been busy, although I have been busy.”

  Kendra nods, waiting patiently.

  “I rescheduled because I’ve…” met someone seems wrong somehow. I haven’t just met Piper, and saying ‘I’ve met someone’ sounds like something I’d say if I’d started a new relationship.

  That thought gives me pause. Truthfully, I haven’t put much thought into what exactly it is growing between Piper and I, but labelling it isn’t something I’m willing or ready to do right now. Not when my emotions are already all over the place. This train of thought reminds me of Piper’s crestfallen expression when I admitted I don’t know what we’re doing at her parents’ place the other day.

  Before she told me she wanted space.

  “You’ve…” Kendra prompts.

  Blowing a hard breath through my nose I start at the beginning, like she suggested. “Piper moved back home.”

  It takes a few moments, but I see the moment Kendra’s eyes light with recognition. I’ve spoken about Carson and Bethany a lot, and their family by extension, so she’ll know of Piper.

  “Piper Fitzgerald? Carson and Bethany’s daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s wonderful! I’m sure they’re very pleased.” A few silent seconds pass, and her expression changes to one of contemplation. “Is Piper the catalyst for your struggles?”

  Put that way, it sounds as though my inability to behave like a normal person is Piper’s fault. I don’t like it.

  “No,” I snap, immediately regretting my tone. “No,” I say again, quieter this time. “She’s been…good for me.”

  A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I think back on all the good she’s brought to my life already in such a short space of time. Her boys, too. They make my heart hurt because they remind me of what I’ve lost, but they’re a joy to be around. They’re extensions of Piper’s joy, her light. I’ve spent so long stumbling through the darkness of grief that any little ray of sunshine seems especially bright, but for the first time in years, I don’t want to shy away from the sun.

  I don’t want to run from life anymore.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Were you friends before she left? Piper moved to England, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, and yes. We were friends before she went to England to study.”

  “And you’ve rekindled that friendship now she’s back?”

  And then some.

  Guilt and want war for power. This, whatever it is, between us…it has the potential to blow up in our faces. I can’t imagine Carson or Bethany reacting well to the news that their friend is less-than-innocent with their daughter. Though not as old as Carson or Bethany, I’m not as young as Piper, either—I’m somewhere in between. Piper is eleven years younger than me while Carson is thirteen years older.

  “Kellan, can I make an observation?”

  “Aren’t you going to whether I agree or not?”

  Kendra smirks. “Of course. But it would be nice to have your cooperation.”

  “Have at it, then.”

  “I think Piper has come back into your life and become a little bit more than a friend.”

  Hit the nail on the head, why don’t you?

  “I’ve never seen you so conflicted, so at war with yourself. When you were thinking of her just then, the confusion was all over your face. A friendship with a woman you’ve known for years and occasionally mentioned with nothing but affection wouldn’t inspire those emotions in you, I don’t think. Not unless something has changed.”

  “It has,” I admit in a whisper, tugging at my hair and shifting in my seat. “And it’s complicated, she’s a lot younger than me. But it’s not that. I mean, I have concerns, but I...she got me to talk. About Willow.”

  It’s funny to me that Kendra’s expression remained carefully neutral when she guessed about me and Piper, yet her eyes widen when I admit that I spoke about my daughter.

  “And how, um…how did that happen?”

  Smiling despite myself, because Kendra is somebody who doesn’t wear surprise well, I sigh. “I got overwhelmed, but she caught me before I could run.”

  Shortening the story for her sake and mine, I skip the part where I carried Piper to her bedroom to thoroughly distract myself before she managed to get me to open up. Kendra comments in all the places she deems it necessary, commending me on holding it together long enough to share some of my past with Piper.

  There’s no stopping some of those soul-crushing days rushing back into my mind as I speak, the pain in my chest a physical, breath-stealing ache.

  “But she will wake up, won’t she?”

  The doctor’s face is carefully blank, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. My knees soften, the wall at my back bracing me. “It’s a waiting game, Mr. Patterson. We’ve done all we can, now we just have to wait. We can’t ascertain exactly what damage has been caused unless she wakes up.”

  Unless.

  He said ‘unless,’ not ‘until.’

  And, three days later, ‘unless’ becomes a moot point. Willow doesn’t, and won’t ever, wake up.

  “Kellan, take a deep breath for me. That’s it. In…and out. In through your nose, and out through your mouth. There we go.”

  For the second time in twenty-four hours, I have to be coached out of a panic attack. Kendra quietly counts out twenty deep breaths, praising me with a gentle smile when I open my eyes and croak my thanks.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m going to make this day worse before it gets better.”

  Fantastic.

  Settling herself back in her seat, she folds her hands in her lap again and eyes me. “Are you all right?”

  “Better.” My breaths come easier with every passing second, but the familiar prickle of a fast-approaching headache stabs at my temples. My fingers itch for a bottle of bourbon, but it’s not even 8 a.m.

  Of course, because my morning isn’t heading for the toilet fast enough, the next words out of Kendra’s mouth are, “I’d like to look at the root cause of your anxiety surrounding relationships, Kellan. I’d like to talk to you about your relationship with your ex-wife.”

  Seventeen

  Piper

  “Can I have the Spiderman one, Momma? Please?” Arlo quickly adds, flashing me a hopeful grin.

  Nodding distractedly, I pull the Spiderman lunch box from the shelf and add it to the cart with Jaxson’s and Finley’s picks.

  “What else do we need, Momma?” Jaxson asks, tugging at the crumpled list in my hand.

  “Oh, uh.” Smoothing it out, I tell him we only have art supplies left to pick out before we’re all set for school. Thinking about how miserable I’ll be when they all start school in a few weeks is a great distraction from thinking about how confused and worried I was when I woke up to Kellan’s note this morning.

  He hasn’t called yet, but it’s still not quite noon. There’s still time, I tell myself, attempting to be a good parent and pay attention to my sons as they drag me around the store until they’ve picked up enough stuff to make me wince when the cashier announces the total due.

  Corralling them out to the car, I make them each carry their own bag; I don’t have enough hands to carry their haul and hang onto the boys while we cross the parking lot.

  “Momma, can we use our new stuff when we get home? I wanna draw a picture.”

  Thinking quickly, because I don’t want Arlo using all his supplies up before school even starts, I
decide the boys need a distraction, too.

  “Not today, kiddo. We’re going over to Nana and Papa’s.”

  The boys cheer in the backseat, thankfully too busy chatting to question my quietness as I chew my lip and wonder if I pushed Kellan too fast last night. Guilt and worry had clawed at me for every second it took him to regulate his breathing. Until last night, I’d never seen someone have a real panic attack, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it was.

  Falling asleep curled against his chest hours later, I’d expected to be able to see for myself how he was when he woke up. Instead, I woke to cool sheets and a slip of paper with his messy scrawl promising a call later.

  But when, exactly, is later?

  *

  Once the boys are content splashing in the pool, Everly coaching them through the techniques they’ve been learning in their first two swim school sessions, I sit with Mom at the patio table and try to sound noncommittal when I ask a question that’s been on my mind, on and off, for years.

  “What happened with Shannon?”

  If she’s surprised I’m asking, Mom’s face doesn’t show it. She sighs, shaking her head with a sad little grimace. “Do you remember when she moved here, sweetheart?”

  Frowning, I purse my lips. “I think so. Didn’t she come out a while after Kellan?”

  “A few years,” Mom nods. “She had a job back in Utah that had good benefits, apparently. She stayed there while he worked to get their new life set up here.”

  I sort of knew that much. I remember seeing girls and women much older than Kellan throwing themselves at him at the hotel when I used to run around there after school, playing cards with Grant, the elevator attendant, and persuading Kellan to let me help him with whatever he was doing. He always shot the women down politely, highlighting his wedding ring. Later, I started eavesdropping on his conversations with Mom and Dad so I could learn more about him. That’s how I learned Shannon was his high school sweetheart before becoming his wife.