Gilt Hollow

by Lorie Langdon

  Pushing down her anger, Willow realized this was an opportunity to bargain. She leveled determined eyes on her mother. “Ashton has no one. And you kept us apart all these years. This is your chance to make that up to him. Do the right thing and let him stay here.”

  Mom turned and stared out the kitchen window, watching the workers as they gathered their things for the evening. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. “I can’t. I’m the only one watching out for you and your brother now. I can’t allow someone I don’t trust to stay under the same roof with you.”

  “I bet Pastor Justin would encourage Christian charity.”

  Mom glared and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Leave him out of this.”

  Her double standard of secret keeping lit a fire in Willow. “Why don’t you like Ashton, Mom? He served time for something he didn’t even do!”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because I know him.” Willow shot to her feet. “Unlike you! You’ve never trusted him. Even when we were kids. Why? What did he ever do to you?”

  Rainn appeared in the doorway, eyes darting between the two of them. “Why are you guys yelling?”

  Mom crossed the kitchen. “Honey, everything’s fine. Your sister and I are just having a difference of opinion.” She ruffled his hair and smiled. “Why don’t you head to your room and start your homework?”

  “All right,” he whined, his mouth twisting in a grimace before he stomped down the hall.

  Mom came back and slid onto the stool across the bar. Willow took a gulp of tepid tea and waited for her mother to answer her question. “Why?”

  “At first, it was more of an instinct. I didn’t like the way you changed when you were with him.” A small smile lifted her lips. “My little type A, structure-loving daughter became a wild thing. Do you remember when you came home with night crawlers slithering through your fingers, mud caked in your hair?”

  Willow nodded. She and Ash had gone on a mission to dig up bait for fishing the next day, and she’d wanted to gross her mom out by bringing the worms into the house.

  “Your dad said it was good for you. That Ashton helped you release your inhibitions and just be a kid. But it was more than that. Once Ashton came into your life, he was all you talked about, the only person you wanted to spend time with. It felt almost unnatural, the way you two bonded. Like …” She shrugged and looked away. “Like you imprinted on each other or something.”

  Willow could tell there was more. So she waited, her shoulders tensed as she braced for some horrid revelation—whatever Ashton had done that convinced her open-minded, peace-loving mother to distrust a little boy. But she wasn’t prepared for what she heard.

  “One night before a trip to the zoo, Ashton spent the night on our sofa. I had a nightmare about you … a dark force hovered near you. You were in danger.”

  “Momm,” Willow groaned.

  “Honey, you know I believe in spiritual dreams, and this one was unmistakable. When I got up to check on you, Ashton wasn’t on the couch. I looked everywhere before I found him.” One side of her mouth dipped down and she swallowed. “He was in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed, watching you sleep.”

  Ashton was watching me sleep? Willow’s jaw had fallen open, so she snapped it shut. That didn’t sound like him at all. She thought back to the zoo trip. Ashton would have been around twelve years old. “He was probably going to wake me up or something. He’s always had insomnia. Too much energy.”

  “But the way he was looking at you, Willow. It was almost … possessive. I didn’t like it.” She took a slow sip of tea. “I felt like I was losing you to him.”

  “So you tried to separate us all of these years because a stupid dream made you question a twelve-year-old boy’s intentions?” Willow’s voice had risen again, but she didn’t care.

  “It was more than that, Willow. A thousand tiny things that set off my maternal instincts. When he was convicted, it confirmed my suspicions.” Mom’s lips pressed together and she lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right. Which is what I’m doing now too.” She stood, her back rigid. “He can’t stay here, Willow.”

  “But this is his house!” Willow shot to her feet. “He inherits it in less than three years!” When Ashton’s grandfather left him the house, it had been a big deal. Ashton had seen it as the key to independence from his parents while still maintaining a connection with the grandparents he’d loved. But his father had not been pleased, and it had driven an even bigger wedge between them.

  “Not right now, it isn’t,” Mom insisted. “My caretaker contract gives me full legal rights to use the home as my full-time residence.”

  “You don’t think he could fight that if he really wanted to?”

  Her brows drew together over her nose. “He wouldn’t!”

  A knock sounded on the front door. Willow offered to answer it, anything to escape their terrible conversation, but her mom was already halfway there.

  Willow slumped over the bar and cradled her head in her palms. This discussion was not going as planned. Her mom truly believed Ashton was some sort of creeper. If studying history had taught her anything, it was that the best generals knew when to retreat. On her tiptoes, she crept across the kitchen and slunk into the hallway. Turning into a side corridor, she opened the first narrow door. A musty smell whooshed to greet her. The back staircase had been used by servants in the Victorian age. Crooked and eerie, Willow hadn’t used it since they’d moved in. But desperate times called for—

  A familiar deep voice immobilized Willow midstep. “I apologize, Mrs. Lamott. I’ll have my things out tonight.”

  Spinning on her heel, she rushed down the corridor and into the foyer. “Ashton?” His hair stuck out on one side, his nose and cheeks ruddy, like he’d been riding his bike without a helmet. As usual.

  He met Willow’s gaze over the top of her mom’s head. “Hi.” He lifted a hand in an awkward wave before jamming it into his pants pocket. “I stopped by to check on you, but … um … how are you?”

  Willow met his deep-blue gaze and had to push down the urge to close the space between them and throw herself into his arms. Instead, she walked around the tiny barricade that was her mother and offered him a warm smile. “Other than some bruises from my fall, I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

  The concrete set of his mouth relaxed a fraction, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Plainly confused and unable to speak freely in front of her mother, he pinned Willow with a questioning gaze.

  Her mother broke the tension. “Ashton, where will you stay?”

  Was that concern Willow heard in her mom’s tone?

  Ashton ran a hand through his hair, taming the wind-tossed waves. “Well, I’m not sure. I might try to rent a room at Hersey’s B&B until I can find a more permanent place. Which reminds me—I’ll need to get into the garage so I can sell one of my grandfather’s bikes.” His lips quirked in a self-deprecating grin. “I doubt many people would hire me around here.”

  “Sure, take whatever you need …”

  “Thanks for everything you’re doing, Mrs. Lamott.” Ashton glanced around the foyer. “The house is starting to look familiar again.”

  “I’m just doing my job, but … thank you.” Mom tugged on the tip of one dread, twisting it in a circle; a sure sign of turmoil brewing.

  Willow stared hard at the familiar lines of her mom’s face. Her mouth was slightly pursed, her eyes soft, head tilted to the side. Could she be having second thoughts? And if so, how could Willow nudge her to make the right decision and let Ashton stay? “Mom, do you think Ashton could eat dinner with us? You’re making quesadillas, right?”

  Her mom nodded. “Yes, with fresh guacamole and lime-chili rice.”

  “Yum! Ashton loves Mexican. Right, Ash?” He’d barely blinked when she added the clincher, “I heard Hersey’s serves frozen, reheated dinners.” Her mom let Rainn have the occasional Pop-Tart, but in general she belie
ved processed food was of the devil.

  “Oh! Well, I—”

  A high-pitched scream cut off Mom’s response.

  “Help!”

  Rainn’s voice.

  CHAPTER Twenty

  Rainn’s cries for help ricocheted in Willow’s brain as she raced out the front door with Mom and Ashton on her heels. Once outside, she scanned the porch and the front yard for her brother’s blond head, but there was no sign of him. This was all her fault. If someone had hurt him, she would never forgive herself. A choked scream escaped her throat as she ran down the front steps. “Rainn!”

  “Help! I’m up here!”

  All three of them raced out into the yard and spun to face the house.

  “Oh my God!” Mom gasped.

  Rainn dangled from a broken length of iron railing that edged the third-story roof. His little feet ran in midair, trying to gain purchase, but the gable was steep and too far out of his reach.

  “Stay still!” Willow yelled, afraid his frantic movement would rip the rail from its mooring.

  A few workers rushed around from the back of the house, where they’d been packing up, and one of them suggested, “I can reassemble a scaffolding below him.”

  The railing shifted a fraction and Rainn jerked, falling half a foot. He shrieked and Mom yelled, “There’s no time!”

  “What’s the quickest way to the roof?” Willow asked Ashton, but he wasn’t beside her anymore. He was climbing one of the porch columns like a tree. The muscles in his back bulged as he boosted himself up onto the overhang. Willow’s heart catapulted into her throat.

  Her mom mumbled a prayer under her breath, and Willow joined her. Please, God, let Ashton reach my brother in time.

  Ashton balanced on the porch roof, which was nothing more than a slanted sheet of metal, and made his way toward the second-story balcony. A gust of wind slammed into him and he sidestepped, slipping. Willow gasped, but he regained his balance and reached for the veranda above him.

  “Mom! Help!” Rainn’s voice tore a hole in Willow’s chest. “I’m slipping!”

  Tears streamed down her mother’s face, but when she responded, her voice sounded strong. “Just a few more seconds! Someone’s coming to get you!”

  Ashton had scaled the narrower columns of the second-story veranda when a horrible wrenching sound ripped through the air. Rainn let out a bloodcurdling scream. Ashton pulled himself onto the tapered roof just as her brother dropped. Springing forward, Ashton threw out his arms. Rainn slammed into him, and Ashton pulled him tight to his chest. But as Willow sucked in a sharp breath of relief, the impact of her brother’s body threw off Ashton’s precarious balance and they both toppled backward.

  Willow watched their freefall in horrified slow motion.

  “Move!” A workman knocked her to the ground. Two painters stretched a blue tarp between them. “Pull it tight!” the foreman instructed. A split second later Ashton and Rainn slammed into the cloth with a whoosh. Their impact yanked the tarp out of one of the men’s hands and pulled the other off his feet, causing the tarp to roll over Ashton and Rainn.

  Stuck in a nightmare where she couldn’t move or speak, Willow stared at the too-still cocoon of blue plastic. Why weren’t they moving? Mom ran up and flung the tarp back. Rainn sat up and blinked. “Mom?”

  Sobbing his name, she lifted him into her arms. Willow’s eyes raked over her brother’s body as he wrapped his arms and legs around their mom like a little monkey.

  Willow turned back to the tarp, where one of the painters knelt over Ashton, blocking her view. “Hey, kid, are you okay?”

  Willow scrambled up beside the workman, then sunk to her knees in the grass. Arms and legs sprawled, eyes closed, Ashton lay as still as a corpse.

  “I think he hit his head on my knee,” the man said.

  Heart seizing, Willow leaned over and placed her hand on Ashton’s chest. It rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Thank God, he was still breathing, but a fall like that could snap a spine or fracture a skull—paralyze someone for life. “Ash? Can you hear me?”

  Years seemed to pass before he moaned and his head fell to one side. His eyelids cracked open to reveal a slit of midnight blue, and Willow’s heart restarted with a shudder. Her throat burned, but she refused to let the tears come. He’d been strong. Now it was her turn.

  “Don’t move him,” the foreman instructed. “I’ve called 911. The paramedics are on their way.”

  “Did you hear that, Ashton? You can’t move, okay?”

  His dark lashes fluttered several times before his gaze fastened on Willow’s face. “Is … Rainn okay?”

  Brushing his hair off his forehead, Willow smiled. “He’s fine.” She glanced behind her to where her mom sat on the front steps with Rainn in her lap.

  Ashton lifted his head, but Willow held him down with a hand on each of his shoulders. “Whoa there. You can’t move. Like, at all.” When he relaxed, she asked, “Does anything hurt?”

  “My head, a little.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance. The local fire department had an EMT squad, but the nearest hospital was twenty miles away.

  Ashton’s eyes flared wide. “I can’t go to the hospital. I’m fine. See?” He rose up again, his head coming off the tarp before Willow could stop him. He groaned and fell back, his eyes squeezing shut.

  “Hey.” Willow cupped his face in one hand, brushing her thumb along his jaw. “It’s okay. They can help you.” The sirens grew louder, and she could see red lights flashing out of the corner of her eye.

  “I can’t afford their help, Wil.” His eyes opened and focused on her face, his forehead creased in pain or worry or both. “Plus, I hate hospitals.”

  “Well, let’s at least make sure you aren’t broken.”

  Wheels screeched on the driveway as the ambulance barreled in at full speed, then slammed to a stop. The whirling lights and sirens cut off as a middle-aged woman dressed in a navy blue uniform opened the driver’s side door and jumped out, snapping on a pair of disposable gloves as she walked. A man in the same uniform came around the front of the vehicle, carrying a red-and-white nylon bag. The foreman directed them to the tarp, where the male paramedic set down the bag and pulled out a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff before asking, “Where’s the other victim?”

  Willow pointed to her mom and brother on the steps. The paramedic walked over to Rainn as the female EMT knelt beside Ashton, directing her first question to Willow. “Hi, I’m Anita. What’s your name?”

  The moment Willow told her, the woman began to fire off questions. “Are you hurt, miss?” Willow shook her head. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Anita listened as Willow described the fall, and then the EMT turned to Ashton. “What’s your name, handsome?”

  “Ashton Keller.”

  There was a flicker of surprise behind Anita’s sharp brown eyes, but she covered it quickly. “Willow, I want you to hold Ashton’s head with both hands. Keep the neck in line so I can assess him.”

  Willow moved behind Ashton and cradled his head on either side. She leaned over and gave him an upside-down smile, surprised by the fear she read in his gaze. Intent on distracting him, she said, “Hey, remember that time you jumped off the tree house roof?”

  “Because I was Spiderman?” A smile tugged at his lips.

  “Try not to talk, Ashton,” Anita instructed as she pressed her fingers into his shoulders. “But tell me if anything hurts when I touch it.” She moved down his right arm, squeezing every inch until she got to his hand, where she put two fingers into his palm. “Squeeze my fingers.”

  He did, and Willow blew out a slow breath as the EMT continued her examination on Ashton’s other side. Willow looked back into his eyes. “You grabbed the branch, but your fingers slipped off. You had to get ten stiches.”

  He blinked rapidly.

  “Eleven?” she corrected.

  He blinked again.

  She grinned. “Twelve?” When his lips quirked, she
grinned. “Wow, twelve whole stitches. I insisted on going into the exam room with you, and when Dr. Beck put the numbing shot into the cut, tears welled in your eyes, and I started bawling so hard the nurse had to take me out of the room.” His smile faded as the memory soaked into them both. When he hurt, she hurt, and vice versa. That’s how it had always been.

  Anita directed, “Ashton, push down with your feet like you’re pressing on a gas pedal … Good. Now pull up, point your toes toward your head. Good, no paralysis.”

  When he’d completed her instructions with both feet, Willow turned away and blinked back tears.

  “Great job.” Anita crab-walked back up to where she’d left her kit. “Willow, you can release his head now.”

  Reluctantly, Willow let him go and moved back. The EMT pressed on Ashton’s facial bones, his jaw, and then the sides of his neck. When she ran her fingers over the back of his head, he winced. “Does that hurt?”

  “Yeah.”

  She threaded her fingers under his hair. “Did you hit your head on something?”

  “I … I don’t remember.”

  Willow chimed in, “One of the guys holding the tarp said he thought Ash’s head hit his knee.”

  “Did he lose consciousness?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?” The woman removed her hands from Ashton’s head.

  “Just a few seconds, I think.”

  The male EMT walked over. “The kid checks out. Not a scratch on him.” He squatted down beside Ashton. “Good job, man.”

  Anita turned a warm smile on Ashton. “You probably have a concussion. I have to take you in and let a doctor decide how long to keep you. Do you have a hospital preference?”

  His gaze shifted to Willow and then back to the EMT. “I’m fine.” He sat up but clutched his head with a groan.

  Willow lurched forward and grabbed his shoulder as he swayed. “Ash, you need to go.”

  Ashton’s lips pressed together, his brows lowering. “No.”

  She knew that look. Once he’d set his mind, there was no moving him.