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Willa
Sunday morning, I woke up alone, my eyes gritty and swollen from a night of crying. I looked at the clock. I’d slept late, like a teenager. I stretched and lay quietly with my thoughts. I had to let her go. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. I would miss her. My arms missed her gentle weight already. But I was at peace. And so was she.
I scooted into the bathroom to brush my teeth and go pee, then I went to look for Barrett. He was in the kitchen boiling the water for my coffee. He stilled and assessed me in that serious way that used to make me feel exposed but now only made me feel seen, as I walked towards him. He opened his arms at the last minute and cuddled me close.
“You’re not mad at me?” He asked gruffly.
I leaned back in surprise to see his face full of concern. “Mad at you? No, not at all. Not even a little bit.”
“I feel like I took something from you.”
“No, my Viking, you don’t take. You just give. Always just give and give and give.”
The lines in his forehead smoothed and he bent to rest his forehead against mine.
“I love you, angel.”
“I love you, my Viking.”
I closed my eyes. The gentle pressure of his forehead on mine, his breath fanning my face, his arms loosely cradling me, all confirmed what I knew in my heart: so long as I had this man, my arms would never be empty.
A few coffees and a couple of hours later we made our way to Calum and Jeanie’s place. Taking the turn onto their long driveway, and seeing Rhys’s truck there, I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. It was a relief to have Bex and Rhys and the twins there for a buffer. On my own, I didn’t have much to offer, but I came in a great package deal with Bex, Mara, Zale, and Olivia. I was thankful that Bex was there at least.
The house was alive with laughter when we walked in. Barrett lumbered in ahead of me.
“Hey, momma.” He bent low to kiss his mother’s cheek and she beamed.
“Hello, son.” She lay her hand on the side of his face and smiled into his eyes then summarily shoved him out of the way to get to me.
I laughed at the bemused look on Barrett’s face and Jeanie laughed, too. “I didn’t have daughters. Now I have two. It’s exciting.” She explained, smiling.
I froze.
I scanned her face but could detect no duplicity. My eyes skittered to Barrett who stood still in that measured way of his, attuned to me. When I met his eyes, he gave me a tiny nod of encouragement. I looked back to his mom. Like him, she was still, waiting.
She smiled at me softly. I felt my face smile back. It felt stiff and unnatural. I gave myself a mental shake and pulled my cheer around me like a cloak. I couldn’t look at Barrett while I did it.
“Jeanie! It’s good to see you!”
“It’s good to see you, too, Willa.” She hugged me and I felt myself relax involuntarily against her softness. She was a magnet to the wounded child within me. She pulled back but kept hold of my hands. “Now, Barrett told me you had a loss, a big one, yesterday.” I opened my mouth to speak but she shook her head. “I’m not asking you to talk about it, darling, I’m telling you you’re with family and you don’t have to put on a happy performance. Everyone in this house understands, all too well, what you’re going through. You just relax and let me feed you. Okay?”
Her words whipped away my mantle of cheer. I looked at Barrett to see unease mixed with concern on his severe face.
“Oh, God, Barrett. She’s like you. Sees everything.”
A flash of white in his wild beard, my heart leaped and filled.
I looked back to Jeanie to see tears in her eyes and a huge smile on her round face. She released my hands, pressed her palms to my cheeks for a moment, and then dismissed us both.
“Go see everybody in the family room. I’m just getting something for the kids, I’ll be there in a minute.”
The scene in the family room was lively with Calum and Rhys together, teasing Bex and playing with the kids. It turned riotous as soon as Barrett lumbered in, both twins running over to their uncle, one on either side.
“Swing me, swing me, Uncle Barrett!” Cole demanded.
“Say ‘hi’ first, Cole. We’re not unbiblicized,” Amelie scolded.
“It’s uncivicalized, Amelie.” Cole answered back.
