She reached over and snagged one of Willow’s curls, pulling it out straight, then releasing the corkscrew to watch it bounce back into its insistent spiral. “Do you ever straighten it? It must look like a copper waterfall hanging down your back.”
Pru was a taken aback when Willow blanched noticeably. “I used to wear it straight all the time, but it’s too much work.” Her voice sounded less like the wind dancing with aspen leaves and more like the stillness before a storm.
“Oh.” Pru wasn’t sure how to respond, but at that moment, she was rescued by the approach of a shiny silver car turning into the Coach House Trailer Park driveway. She’d seen it only once before, about a week ago when the car pulled up in front of Al’s place. She’d watched, curious to see who was paying the quiet man in Space #4 a visit, but the driver never got out. Al walked down and met him at the car window, they exchanged what appeared to be files or manila envelopes, then Al headed back inside. Instead of turning around in the horseshoe drive in front of the main building, though, the car headed over the bridge toward the back of the park. She hadn’t seen it come out again, so she assumed the car had gone all the way around and left by the driveway at the opposite end of the park.
Now the same silver car was here, pulling up in front of Al’s again, and this time, the driver’s door opened.
“Oh my,” Pru murmured appreciatively. “What have we here?”
Willow turned to look out the window, then stood so abruptly, she almost lost her balance.
“Willow? What’s wrong?”
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 3
"I need to go,” Willow stated, her voice high and tight. “Wait. I probably better stay or he might see me. But I need to get out of the window.” She was jabbering almost more to herself than to Pru.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Pru asked again, standing up and taking Willow by the shoulders to steady her. “Do you know that guy?” Pru watched him from the corner of her eye, appreciating everything about him, from the way he carried himself with casual elegance, to the purpose in his stride as he made his way up the three steps to Al’s small patio. His dark hair, although combed neatly, was a little long, curling ends brushing his collar. He wore a suit, but when he climbed from the car, he slipped out of the jacket and left it draped over his steering wheel. Although his pale blue shirt pulled snugly across his broad shoulders, he seemed long and lean to her; almost as tall as Carney, but his opposite in every other way. She couldn’t see his face, but at the moment, she was busy taking in the rest of him and didn’t really mind. Besides, if Willow’s was any indication, it was probably better that the man was walking in the opposite direction.
“I know him, yes. But I don’t want to see him. Or be seen by him.” Well, that cleared nothing up.
“Who is he?”
Willow answered curtly, “He’s a lawyer.”
“A lawyer? What does Al need a lawyer for?” This was getting curiouser and curiouser, as the Cheshire cat would say. “And how do you know him?”
Willow slipped her shoulders out of Pru’s grasp. She crossed the room to the kitchen and turned to lean against the counter, facing the window, but out of sight of Al’s sliding glass door. Her eyes were shadowed with something that looked like sadness.
Pru tried a different tactic. “Should I be worried for Al?”
“No. No.” Willow shook her head, her red curls bouncing vehemently. “He’s here to help Al, not hurt him.” As Pru gathered up the plate of scones and jam and brought them to the kitchen, the girl continued. “He’s my ex. Or he will be. He’s my husband.”
If she’d said the gorgeous man was an alien, Pru would have been less surprised. She’d heard the rumors that Willow was married, but she’d thought they were just that, rumors. No man in his right mind would walk away from the ethereal beauty who’d christened her little cottage Elderberry Croft. And from Pru’s experience, Willow was just as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. It simply didn’t make sense.
“Wait. Wait!” Pru raised an arm toward the window and pointed at Al’s place, putting two and two together. “Is that guy…Shadowman?” First Eddie had come by, warning her to lock her doors at night, to keep an eye out for a loiterer, and to call him if she saw anything suspicious. Then Kathy and Myra both made a point to stop by and fill her in on the whole Shadowman situation. Kathy’s spin on things was much less dramatic than Myra’s, but the bottom line was the same as Eddie’s. The man wasn’t welcome. “Have you called to let Eddie know he’s here? Or the police?”
Willow shook her head. “No. It’s okay. He’s here because I asked him to come.”
“What?” Pru was getting confused. Then she remembered the way the silver car had headed toward the back of the property the last time she’d seen it. “Has he been by to see you? Is he bothering you?”
“No. Sometimes he drives by my place when he comes to see Al,” Willow acknowledged, as though reading her mind. “But he knows better than to stop.”
Pru frowned. “So let me get this straight. He’s here because you invited him to come, but you don’t want to see him?” When Willow didn’t answer right away, Pru tried again.
“Willow, honey. I’m concerned. Are you afraid of him? Did he hurt you? Is he dangerous?” She didn’t like that the younger woman looked so pale, hands trembling, eyes wide.
“Oh no,” Willow assured her, waving both hands briefly in a negative gesture. “It’s not like that. He just doesn’t want to take ‘no’ for an answer, and it’s the only answer I can give him right now. So it’s better if we steer clear of each other altogether.” Her voice faded away on the last words.
This was bad; very bad. It was plain to see that Willow was deeply affected by the man who’d just slipped into Al’s place, that his presence completely undid her, but why?
The phone rang, startling them both. Carney! She’d almost forgotten about him in all the excitement.
“I’m finished. I should be there in half an hour.” Straight to the point, that was her Carney.
“Sounds good. Are you hungry?”
“Starving. For lunch and for you.”
“Oh, Carney. You’re so sweet.” She grinned broadly, suddenly anxious to see him again.
She eyed Willow as she hung up. “You haven’t met Carney, have you?”
“No, I haven’t had the privilege.” The girl headed over to pick up her floppy handbag from the end of the couch. “But it sounds like he’s on his way, so I’d better get out of your hair. You two don’t need me around for your reunion.” Willow’s expressive green eyes were too bright.
Pru put a hand on the girl’s arm. “I’m worried about you, Willow. You don’t look so good. Why don’t you wait until Carney gets here. We’ll walk you home, and you’ll get to meet my man!”
Willow stood indecisively for a moment or two, so Pru pushed a little harder. “Look. Your husb—that guy won’t try to stop you if you’re on Carney’s arm. He’s the size of a mountain, and even though he’s really just a big teddy bear, he looks pretty threatening.” She poured them both another cup of coffee and handed Willow hers. “Please stay. Besides, if you wait, maybe he’ll leave and you won’t have to worry about him seeing you at all.”
Finally, Willow nodded, and sat down slowly on the edge of the loveseat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “What a terrible way to thank you for your hospitality.”
“Don’t be silly. I actually love the drama, truth be told.” Pru winked at the girl, trying to help her relax. “Nothing exciting ever happened here before you moved in, Willow Goodhope. I didn’t used to mind never being around, but now I feel left out because I’m missing parties and cookouts and prowlers!”
Willow grinned, her expression impish. “Ha! I moved here to avoid excitement, not to stir it up.” She shot a glance out the window. “I had no intention of him ever showing up here, but now? He’s here because I asked him.” She shrugged in resignation. “I suppose it was inevitable.”
Pru
studied her, not quite sure how to respond to that. Was it inevitable that the husband would be here? Or that Willow herself would be the one inviting him? What had gone wrong in the Goodhope marriage that had this usually vivacious girl so shaken up?
She desperately wanted the scoop, but her years of studying clients’ faces in the beauty parlor mirror had taught her that comfort, not confrontation, opened mouths. She’d have to do what she did best—talk about hair.
“Well, regardless of that man over there, I doubt you could go anywhere and not cause a stir with hair like yours. I have clients that would sell their first born children for all those glorious curls.”
Willow absentmindedly combed her fingers through the curls that tumbled around her shoulders, but Pru’s words didn’t seem to bring comfort. In fact, what she saw in Willow’s eyes looked more like pain, stark, and haunting; a stillness that seemed to seep out of every pore, filling the room with something Pru couldn’t articulate.
“I’m sorry. I—I don’t know what I said.” She scrambled for words, but Willow shook her head, silencing Pru’s stutters.
“Stop. It’s okay.” Color was starting to leach back into Willow’s face. “Just having Christian—my husband—around has me really on edge. I’m overreacting to everything. I’m sorry.”
Pru’s stomach still clenched sympathetically over whatever Willow was dealing with, but she smiled, relieved. “You don’t have to apologize, honey. I don’t know what’s happened with you two, but it’s obviously terrible.” Once she got started, the words kept tumbling out. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. I like gossip just as much as the next girl, but I do know how to keep my mouth shut when it counts.”
“Thank you. I’m glad.” Willow sipped her coffee, and Pru stayed quiet, hoping she would continue, but she changed the subject instead. “You know what, Pru? I could really use a trim.” She swept all her hair forward over her right shoulder, lifting a handful to examine the ends. “I don’t cut my hair as often as I should, but usually by the end of the summer, the ends are dry and need a little TLC. I’ve never been to your salon before. I’ll make an appointment to come see you sometime soon, maybe later this week. Would that be okay?”
“Don’t be silly. You don’t have to come see me there. We can trim it right here. Let me grab my scissors.” Although disappointed that Willow wasn’t going to open up, Pru was relieved to have something to do, something she was good at. She hurried into the surprisingly large bathroom—it was one of the things that had sold her on the apartment back when she’d first looked at it. The stream was charming, the bay window a promising element, but the huge bathroom with its claw foot tub, expansive vanity, and the bank of cabinets and shelves along the back wall had sealed the deal for her. A window of vintage glass blocks above the shelves let in natural light, making the room feel spacious and airy. She’d hung a pink-jeweled chandelier over the bathtub to read by, and the double curtain encircling the tub and goose-necked shower head boasted an array of pink and black high-heeled shoes and handbags. Plush pink throw rugs lay scattered across the ugly linoleum floor. She suspected there was gorgeous hardwood beneath the checkered plastic sheeting, and if she owned the place, it would be exposed in a heartbeat. But in spite of the dated flooring, she’d made the place work beautifully. This was a chick’s bathroom, all the way.
Poor Carney. Although he never said so, she knew he hated using it. The thought of the tattooed bear of a man standing in the middle of her make-up strewn, fuzzy pink and leopard print, perfume- and hairspray-scented powder room made her giggle every time.
“Oh Carney,” she murmured. “How will we ever make this work, you and me?”
Thoughts of him had her checking the ornately framed mirror over the sink, but determining she still looked her best, she returned to the kitchen with her salon kit.
She had Willow move to a stool, and draped her shoulders with a turquoise nylon cape, then handed her a large mirror with a long handle. Standing behind her, she asked, “Do you just want the ends trimmed, or would you like me to take a little length off?”
“Just the ends, please. My husband loves it long.” The moment the words were out, Willow’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. A silence like a stirring lion settled between them, and Pru wanted to shake the girl—awake the lion, so to speak—and get things out on the table once and for all. It was blatantly obvious that Willow was in need of a set of shoulders to lean on, to cry on, to unload on, and Pru wanted to be that set of shoulders.
“Then we’ll keep it long. Chin down,” Pru instructed, lifting a section of the red curls. One by one, she separated a corkscrew, and snipped off a half-inch or so. “We’re doing this dry; it’s called ‘dusting.’ You already have a great cut, so I’m keeping the shape the same, just getting rid of the dry ends where it’s needed, okay?”
Willow nodded, and as Pru worked her way methodically through her hair, she saw the girl’s shoulders begin to relax. Finally, Willow spoke without preamble. “I suppose part of me will always think of him as my husband.”
Pru murmured encouragingly. The salon magic was working.
Willow rested the handheld mirror face down on her lap and closed her eyes. Pru ran her fingers through the red curls, gently massaging Willow’s scalp. The girl took a deep breath and opened her mouth to continue.
A sharp knocking interrupted the moment and Willow flinched like she’d been struck. Her shoulders went up, her back straight, and she stared wide-eyed at the door.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 4
"It’s just Carney. His el Camino is parked out front, see?” Pru pointed at the long hood of the car visible at the edge of the bay window. “He always parks right there so I can see it’s him. He doesn’t like that I don’t have a peep hole or a window by the front door, and he’s always warning me about opening it without knowing who’s on the other side.”
“Sounds like a good guy.”
“He’s a great guy.” Pru fluffed her hair and twirled once in front of Willow. “How do I look?”
Willow grinned, her posture relaxing a little, and gave her two thumbs up.
Pru pulled open the door and launched herself at the man who stood there. His arms encircled her, pulling her up against his stocky frame, crushing her to him. This. This was what she’d missed the most; being surrounded by Carney.
“Hey, Doll.” His voice was gruff against her ear.
“Hey, you big stud.” She reached up and cupped his face in her long-fingered hands. “Kiss me and tell me you missed me.”
As he came up for air, he noticed Willow sitting in the kitchen, and Pru felt his whole body tense. She turned slowly, trying to gauge his reaction, then introduced them. “Carney, Willow. Willow, Carney.”
Carney dropped his arms from around her waist and stepped back from their intimate embrace. “Nice to meet you, Willow.” His voice was still gruff, but Pru thought it was more from embarrassment than passion. He was rather conservative, not one to demonstrate his affection publicly. His eyes darted back and forth between the two women before landing on Pru, his eyebrows raised in question.
“I invited Willow over for coffee this morning. She brought scones and jam to die for, and I supplied the coffee and scissors.” Pru winked at Willow who seemed uncertain of how she should respond.
“I apologize for interrupting.” Carney took another step back. “I can come back.”
“Oh no,” said Willow, standing quickly. “You’re not interrupting. I was just keeping Pru company until you got here.” She reached up to release the cape from around her neck.
“Don’t be silly, Willow. Sit!” Pru commanded. Grabbing Carney’s hand, she laced her fingers with his and pulled him bodily inside. “Come in, you big oaf. You’re letting the air-conditioning out.” Indicating another stool tucked up to the counter, she told him to sit, too. “And have a scone. You won’t be sorry. Coffee?”
“Of course,” he replied, letting her push him down onto the seat only a few
feet from where Willow sat. He took the mug of black coffee she handed him.
“Look,” Pru declared. “You two already have something in common. You both like your coffee black. There must be something to that!”
He studied them both while methodically slathering butter and jam on the largest scone from the platter Pru had placed on the counter nearby. Pru went back to snipping, but she, in turn, watched curiously as Carney adjusted to the presence of the beauty in the room between them.
After a few moments of silence, Pru spoke. “So what did your doctor say?” She assumed it would be clear who the question was aimed at, but neither one responded. “Carney? Did you get your medical card renewed?”
“Who, me?” He straightened in his seat and took a gulp of coffee to wash down the huge bite he’d just taken.
“Yes, you.” Obviously, the man was still distracted, but Pru wondered if it was for the same reason he’d been distracted on the phone this morning, or if perhaps it might be Willow now instead.
“Naw. They have to wait for my lab results.” He held up a tree trunk arm to show off the cotton ball held in place at the crook of his elbow by a strip of medical tape. “They all but drained me this morning, and that was after the juvenile delinquent stabbed me three times. Come on. How hard can it be to stick one of these things?” He flexed uncharacteristically, and the crisscrossing blue lines running the length of his forearm popped out as they began to fill with blood. It was Pru’s turn to raise her eyebrows.
“Wow! You’ve got great veins, Carney!” Willow’s exclamation seemed just as out of character as Carney’s show of muscles. “My dad became a phlebotomist later in life, and he used to point out great veins to me all the time. In public. We got some weird looks, I’m telling you, especially with this vampire craze the last several years.” She snickered. “He’s in a retirement center, and the women he dates all have great veins.”
Elderberry Croft: Volume 3 Page 9