Misty scrubbed Jellybean twice against his forceful protestations, and still he smelled slightly of chocolate. Vanquished and pitiful, he sat on a blanket that Misty had graciously thrown on top of her bed in the trailer. Dinnertime came and went, but she had no appetite for anything. All she could do was pace in unsatisfying circles and wonder what was going on between Bill and Catherine.
Without a cell phone, Misty could do nothing. There would be no chance of connecting with Lawrence again, no opportunity to return Nana Bett’s call unless she borrowed a phone from one of the movie people or called from Bill’s shop. Though she desperately wanted to know how Bill was feeling about Catherine’s surprise arrival, she was afraid to barge in on a tenuous family situation. She was not family, not a girlfriend, not anything to Bill Woodson, she thought with a pang.
After she slipped on pajamas, she passed the hours scrubbing the stains out of her clothes and playing her violin. Jellybean listened with rapt attention as she soothed them both, her music sad and poignant.
As darkness came, the first splatters of rain hit the trailer roof. Of course. There was nothing else that could happen to work against these Albatrossians and their festival. Now the weather was conspiring to ruin the festivities too.
What other factors could possibly conspire against Bill Woodson, already enduring an enormous millstone around his neck? What else? How about if Catherine had arrived with the intention of taking Fiona away? She tried to picture Bill without Fiona.
His life would be so much easier if he were to give up his parenting role. The pressure to hide his illiteracy and to provide for a child would be lifted from his shoulders.
Yet she had a feeling that losing Fiona would also break Bill’s heart beyond repair. Carefully putting away her violin, she climbed in bed. Jellybean scooted up tight, snuggling against her tummy.
“Jelly, what is going to happen to Bill?”
The dog curled up tighter, letting out a soft whine as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
With a deep sigh of her own, she said her prayers and tried to do the same.
Misty and her canine bedmate overslept until well after ten on Wednesday morning. The movie people were already hard at work, sliding a camera on a long track as they presumably filmed the segments without their star. Misty dressed quickly, fed Jellybean, and looked furtively out the window to make sure no one would spot her escape, particularly Jack. She was not in any mood to fend off his dinner invitations or face more grilling about Lawrence’s whereabouts.
She intended to check on the status of her pancaked car, borrow Bill’s van, deliver Jellybean to Ernest’s loving custody, and buy a cell phone. More importantly, she hoped to hear that Catherine’s arrival was not the harbinger of disaster she had imagined it to be. Then after all that? Well, she couldn’t very well leave town with her car stuck in a tree, so her timetable was at the mercy of the tow truck.
When the movie people looked particularly engrossed in their work, Misty eased out the door and walked briskly with Jellybean toward town. The sky was still thick with clouds, but the rain held off, which was a mercy since she had no umbrella. Even with the clouds, or perhaps because of them, the ocean air was fresh and crisp. There was no cacophony of traffic noise, no crush of people, no place, really, in which Misty could hide herself as she walked. Her exposure to the world was the tiniest bit thrilling, she thought as she strode along, and frightening too.
Her nerves prickled and danced as she closed in on Chocolate Heaven. She wouldn’t pry. Just a quick stop to borrow Bill’s van. Tucking Jelly under her arm, she poked her head into the shop. Gunther was wiping down the counter. His face was more lined than usual, a scowl deeply grooving his face.
“Good morning, Gunther. I came to ask Bill if I can use his van.”
He jerked his head toward the door. “Outside.”
Figuring it would be a waste of breath to attempt any more conversation with him, she let herself out the side door.
“I don’t want to embarrass you,” Catherine was saying. She was neatly dressed in slacks and a blue silk top with a casual blazer tying it all together. Bill stood across from her, hands on the hips of his white apron. Fiona was on a chair, peering over the back gate to spot a rabbit. Jellybean pulled the leash from Misty’s hand and ran to Fiona. Neither Bill nor Catherine seemed to notice.
Misty edged quietly around to retrieve the dog and make her getaway.
“But there are hindrances to you raising Fiona,” Catherine was saying.
“Hindrances,” he echoed.
“Yes, I know what the word means.”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t you say it? Just say it, Catherine.”
Misty’s heart lurched.
Catherine folded her arms around herself as if she were chilled. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“Say it,” Bill said. “Tell me why you don’t think I can be a good parent to Fiona.”
“Purely a practical decision. I can give her a better life,” Catherine said calmly. “I’ve arranged my career so I will be doing less travel. I have financial resources that you don’t have, and you…” She sighed. “Bill, you’re a good man, and you’ve done an amazing job with Fiona.”
“So why are you the better choice?”
Catherine’s voice dropped. “You know why.”
“Tell me.”
Misty’s mouth went dry as Catherine cleared her throat.
No, don’t say it, she pleaded silently. Please don’t.
“Because you’re illiterate.”
The word fell like a bomb.
Illiterate.
Bill stared at her as if he hadn’t heard.
“I wish you hadn’t backed me into that corner, Bill. I do not want to demean you in any way. You are a fine man.”
“But I’m not…” He cleared his throat. “I’m not smart enough.”
“I know you’re smart, but let’s be realistic. Reading medicine bottles? Understanding school report cards? Planning her financial future? Those are important things.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “I know.”
“It’s not just me. Your father…”
Misty went cold at the look of defeat on Bill’s face.
Bill squeezed his eyes shut, and Misty could see the pain that crashed over him in a mighty tide. “I know. My father thinks I’m not fit to parent Fiona.”
“He knows…we all know you love her, but sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Misty felt the thoughts tumbling out of her mouth, leaving her aghast at herself.
“Yes, it is. Bill’s a great father.”
Catherine cocked her head. “Who are you, if I may ask?”
Bill found his voice. “Misty Agnelli. She’s a friend.”
“A good enough friend to know that Fiona and Bill love each other very much,” Misty continued.
“I am sure of it, but things change, and if we look logically at the situation, it makes perfect sense.”
“Bill’s her guardian.”
Catherine brushed the bangs from her face. “Yes, but in a legal challenge…” She shrugged, and the truth hit home to Misty. Catherine was right. If she brought the matter to court, what judge would rule in favor of a single man who couldn’t read? Anguish nearly closed off her throat, and she watched Bill’s eyes change as he came to the same conclusion.
He looked at Misty. “Thanks, Misty, I appreciate it, but nothing Catherine has said is untrue.” His throat convulsed. “She is the better choice for a parent.”
“No, Bill. You are,” Misty said from a brave place inside her she hadn’t known was there.
He shook his head, eyes glistening. “If she goes with Catherine, she’ll get everything she needs. Maybe she’ll start talking again soon, and she won’t live in a tiny room above a candy shop.”
Catherine nodded. “I’ve already spoken to a wonderful specialist in Georgia about her mutism.” She put her hand on Bill’s arm. “And you will always be her Uncle Bill. You’re welcome to come anytime. I want her to have a close relationship with you.”
Misty was paralyzed at what was taking place.
He watched Fiona play, mouth tight. “You’ll want to spend some time with her, get to know her better before you”—he cleared his throat—“before you take her.”
“Actually, I’d like to fly back home on Friday. With Fiona.”
“Friday?” he croaked. “So soon?”
“I think it would be best to make the transition quickly, don’t you? Easiest on Fiona?”
Bill didn’t answer.
“Is it okay if I spend some time with her now?” Catherine asked.
“She has to go to preschool,” Bill said after a moment. “She has school from one to four today. It’s important for her to be in school every day, Miss Dina says. She’s smart,” he said desperately. “She knows all her letters, and she can write her name with a capital letter in the right spot.”
“All right. How about I pick her up from preschool, and we can play at the beach for a while? I’ll bring her back to the shop about six?”
“But…but maybe we should both be there. She might be scared without me.”
Catherine held up a hand. “Bill, let’s do what’s easiest for Fiona, okay? A couple of hours to reacquaint ourselves is going to help things along immensely. It’s not as though I’m a complete stranger, you know. She and her parents stayed at my house last time I was in town. I was at her christening and her last birthday party.”
“I…I guess you’re right,” Bill said.
No, no, no, Misty’s heart cried.
Catherine called out, “Fiona, can you come here a minute, honey?”
Fiona approached, a smear of dirt on her forehead. Catherine knelt next to her. “Do you remember me, Fiona? I’m Auntie Catherine, your mommy’s sister. You’ve stayed at my house before.”
Fiona did not respond except to stick her two middle fingers in her mouth.
“Remember my dogs, Buster and Charlotte? They loved playing with you in my swimming pool. I’d like you to come back to my house with me and stay with me and the dogs, okay?”
Fiona blinked, unresponsive.
“Tell you what. Today after your preschool is over, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go get ice cream and play on the beach for a while. How would that be? You like ice cream, I remember. Vanilla, right?”
Fiona nodded.
Misty looked on in absolute disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Not to a good man like Bill.
But Catherine was nodding, walking back out of the shop, and Bill was standing silent, watching her go.
“Oh, Bill,” Misty said when the door closed. “I’m so sorry.”
He was quiet for a long moment. She ached to comfort him.
“Will you…” He cleared his throat. “Misty, will you help me with something?”
“Of course. Anything.”
He led the way back into the house and up the stairs to the battered desk in his bare room. A new set of workbook pages lay there, the top one with handwritten words to practice.
He took out a red construction paper heart with a picture glued crookedly in the middle. It was a shot of Fiona perched on Bill’s shoulders, holding firmly on to his ears. They were both grinning.
“We’re making Valentines for the kids for next month, but Dina knows I usually need a lot more time to get mine ready, so she gave it to me early. I want to give it to Fiona before…” He fisted his hands on his hips and exhaled. “Before she leaves.”
Misty found her throat was too constricted to answer.
He grabbed a purple marker from a cup on his desk. “Could you write something for me?”
Misty nodded, sitting down on the chair and uncapping the pen.
“Write…‘Uncle Bill will always love you.’ ”
Through a blur of tears, she wrote.
Bill walked Fiona to school, each step feeling miles long. He sought out Dina and delivered the news.
“Her aunt?” Dina said.
He nodded. “Fiona is going to live with her.”
Dina’s mouth widened in an O of surprise. While she struggled to hide it, he bent to kiss Fiona. “I’ll see you back at the shop when Auntie Catherine brings you home, okay?”
By the time he’d straightened, Dina had herself under control, handing him an envelope, which he knew contained the next few words he’d asked her to help him master. Though there hardly seemed to be a point anymore, he took the papers and exited quickly.
On the front step, he found himself immobile. He knew he should be hard at work preparing chocolates just in case some people arrived for the ill-fated festival, but he didn’t have the heart to go back there. The prospect of a long afternoon stretched before him, and he realized how he’d learned to schedule his day around Fiona. The preschool drop-off. Dinner preparation and bedtime ritual. They were the duties that defined and gave purpose to his hours. How precious it all seemed now that it was evaporating before his eyes.
“Bill.”
He blinked and discovered he was now standing on a corner, Misty idling next to him in a dented Subaru with Jellybean scrabbling at the rear window.
“Isn’t that Gunther’s car?”
She nodded. “He loaned it to me. I didn’t want to bother you about the van. I’m going to take Jellybean back to Ernest. Do you…I mean…would you like to come along?”
“I’m not real good company right now.”
“That’s okay. You know I’m no good at small talk anyway.”
For some reason, Misty’s words brought a smile to his face. He climbed in, and Jellybean immediately launched himself from the backseat to the front and gave Bill a thorough tongue swabbing.
“Man, this dog can’t decide who his owner is.”
“I think that’s the problem. He refuses to be owned. That way he can love everyone the way he wants when he wants.”
Bill sighed. “Must be nice.”
Misty drove along, and they lapsed into an extended quiet. Soon she would be gone too, he thought. No Fiona to give his life purpose. No Misty to wrap his heart in joy. The scenery passed in a blur until they arrived in Twin Pines.
Misty bought a cell phone and immediately checked her missed calls.
“Two from Nana and none from Lawrence.”
The whole hide-and-seek game with Lawrence seemed suddenly ridiculous to Bill. How small, how frivolous it was in the face of what he was losing. “Misty, did you really think you could save this whole Silver Screen Festival by bringing him back?”
“No, not at first.”
“What made you change your mind?”
She considered. “You did.”
“Me?”
She didn’t look at him. “You saw something in me that I didn’t.”
He stared at her in amazement.
Pink blooms appeared on her cheeks. “That ‘shine your light’ thing. You made me want to do that.”
And how he lived for that light, yearned for it, and grieved the loss of Fiona, of his pride, of Misty. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely. “I am very glad.”
“And I wish I could do that for you.”
There’s nothing left inside me to shine, he wanted to say. His brain did not work right, and now, in the time it took for Catherine to blow into town, his heart was beyond repair as well.
He opened his mouth and then closed it. Please don’t say anything else, Misty. Not another word. He could not take it.
Instead, she held out her hand and took his, the fingers squeezing, soothing, just being there, sharing space. Jellybean added his own fuzzy comfort, stretching out on Bill’s lap and laying his bony wedge of a head against Bill’s knee. Bill closed his eyes and settled back against the seat, allowing the bump and squeak of the old car seat to soothe him.
The car ground to a halt, and he opened his eyes. It was two o’clock, and he automatically thought about Fiona. It was snack time, so she would be enjoying goldfish crackers and apple slices.
You’re going to have to stop measuring your life in Fiona time.
They piled out and knocked on Ernest’s door. No answer to the knocking or their calls.
“What’s this?” Bill said. He picked up a note that was tucked under the doormat.
“Sorry,” he read as he handed it to Misty. Sorry. Five letters, and he’d read them. A bitter victory. Sorry was right. Too little, too late.
“It says he had to go take his sister in Redding to the hospital because she broke her wrist. He is staying overnight, and he won’t be back until tomorrow.”
Bill looked at Jelly, who turned in a tight circle in an attempt to catch his tail.
“Looks like you’re foiled again, Misty,” he said.
Misty braced her hands on her hips and stared at Jellybean. “You’re harder to get rid of than a case of poison oak.”
Jellybean rolled over for a tummy scratch.
“Oh, okay,” Misty said, reaching for the wriggly belly. “But you’re going to have to get used to someone else giving you these scratches pretty soon.”
Unperturbed, Jellybean closed his eyes to enjoy the moment.
Oh, to be a dog, Bill thought. No regrets, no unmet potential. No cares about the loneliness of tomorrow. He sighed. It was time to return to Albatross and begin the countdown to Fiona’s departure.
When they arrived back at the shop, Gunther immediately untied his apron. “Neighbor said Lunk’s busted out again. Gotta go find him,” he grumbled as he made for the door.
The clang of the bells faded away. Bill stood in the empty store while Misty tied Jellybean to the lamppost. The silence was palpable. No more kid noise, the squeak of her rocking chair, the barnyard boogie music from her CD player. Just quiet.
He tried to rouse himself. He had work to do, floors to clean, recipes to prep, yet still he stood there, steeped in the silence, paralyzed by it.
Misty came close.
“Are you okay?”
He forced a nod. “Just realizing how different it will be when Fiona is gone.”
Her face shone with sudden passion. “Why don’t you fight for her, Bill? You can be her parent. I know you can.”
He let out a long, slow breath. “Isn’t that what being a parent truly is? Wanting the best for your child? Catherine can give her a better life than I can.”
Even if he could finally tackle his illiteracy. Catherine had money, a home, his father’s blessing—everything a child could need.
“But she thinks of this as her home, of you as her father figure.”
“She’ll…” He cleared his throat. “She’ll forget that in time. She’ll forget about me.”
Misty bit her lip between her teeth. Then she wrapped him in a hug, stroking his back and pressing kisses on his neck.
His heart thrummed a tune, and he marveled at how the world went away when he held her, the softness of her cheek erasing the bitterness, the brush of her hair stirring some warmth back into his soul, and he allowed himself to accept the comfort.
“Bill,” she said, looking up at him, lips trembling. “I love you.”
Time stopped ticking. He jerked, staring now at the red-blushed face looking up at his. She’d said it. He hadn’t been dreaming.
This woman who could not face a roomful of people without breaking into a sweat had just bared her soul and lit a fire in his. “I love you.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and lost himself in her brown eyes. She loved him enough to see the man he was, not the man he couldn’t be. Could Misty Agnelli really be meant for him?
Then the doubts rushed in, pushing back the joy and assailing him with practiced ease. He wanted to say, “I love you too,” but the words stuck fast, just like they always had, his snare, his ruin.
“Misty, I can’t believe how blessed I’ve been that you stumbled through the door of my shop.”
She smoothed the front of his shirt, smiling shyly. “Me too.”
“But…” The brown eyes looked suddenly uneasy, and he hated himself for what he had to do. “I won’t let you confuse pity with love.”
“I’m not confusing it,” she said.
He put a finger underneath her chin and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Look at me.” His other hand traced the smooth perfection of her cheek. “Look in my eyes and tell me you don’t feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t,” she breathed, but he saw the flicker there, the small waver of doubt that told him the truth. It hurt so much he almost couldn’t stand it. There was pity mixed in that love. Poor Bill. He would not make her say it aloud.
“Misty, I will never forget you.”
He felt her stiffen, forced himself to let her step out of his hold. She fled for the door.
“I’m sorry,” he said as the door banged behind her.