Page 38 of Mistletoe Sky
Amelie’s throat was swollen. When she couldn’t speak, Pascal reached over to take her hand, which she gripped like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.
Finally, she said, “Willa and I haven’t had an easy relationship either.”
Her father winced. Maybe this made everything worse.
Amelie hurried to try to fix it. “I mean, we’re talking now. We’re trying to get through it. But things were tough on us after everything. We had to get away from it all. Away from the island. Away from each other.” She sighed. “So many people who go through trauma turn toward one another for help and love. I don’t know why we couldn’t do that. I’ve thought about it endlessly. For years and years.”
Frank shook his head, at a loss.
On television, one of the Michigan State players made a three-point goal, and everyone at the stadium screamed with joy.
Pascal remained quiet, his fingers still laced through Amelie’s. She felt a jolt of “love” for him, although she knew it was too soon for such feelings.
Frank said, “I know you girls blame me for what happened to your mother. I wish I could fix that. But the truth is, I blame myself too. And maybe the past is too painful for Willa to overcome.” His gaze flickered over to Amelie before he added, “Maybe it’s too painful for you, too. I can’t blame you for that.”
Amelie remained quiet. She didn’t know the answer to the question. She felt behind his words. She didn’t know how to carry on. She could bring chili. She could come for dinners. But could she fully forgive him?
“The thing is,” her father went on, adjusting his blanket, “I never got a chance to tell you the whole story. I always felt like you got the wrong idea. And then, before I could correct what you were thinking, before I could bring us back together as afamily, both of you were off to your aunt’s place. And your aunt kept telling me not to call you. I was in a tremendous depression. I threw myself into the fudge shop, into life on the island. I felt like a pariah. But bit by bit, the truth came to the surface. People understood what had happened and what I’d really done. People forgave me for the loss of their wonderful Georgia. Our wonderful Georgia. All except for you and Willa, because you were gone.”
Amelie furrowed her brow and sputtered, “What really happened?” Her pulse was like a rabbit’s.
Slowly, Frank turned to face her. He was deathly pale. “I’ve always wanted to tell you.”
And as they sat there in the living room of Amelie’s childhood home, she heard the story of her mother’s death for the first time in its entirety—and afterward, on the street corner as the snow fell around them, wept so powerfully in Pascal’s arms that he insisted she come back to the bed-and-breakfast, where he tucked her in, made her a cup of cocoa, and waited by the side of her bed till she fell asleep.
Nothing that she’d known was as it seemed. And for this reason, an hour after Pascal left her bedside, Amelie woke up to tears on her face and a burning in her chest. It was eleven thirty at night, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink. Instead of lying in miserable silence, she got out of bed, dressed, and went into the frigid darkness. Before she knew it, she was back in the kitchen at the Caraway Fudge Shoppe, working herself into a tizzy to make herself forget.
Chapter Nineteen
Willa
December 2025
It was around eleven forty-five that night that Willa received the alert on her phone that severe weather was headed for Mackinac Island. Blizzard conditions. Below zero temperature. Stay alert. Willa leaped off her office chair, her heart pounding. Ever since she’d reached Mackinac Island, she’d checked the weather continually, hopeful that she’d be able to get as much commercial footage as she could before Christmas, so that she could break free from the past. A blizzard meant a hold on everything.
A blizzard meant the Christmas Festival might be postponed.
She felt anger toward Mother Nature, toward her career. And then, she felt sorrow for the islanders who’d worked tirelessly to make this an unforgettable Christmas Festival. This far north in Michigan, there was so little you could plan for.
Willa threw herself back in her office chair and groaned. On her screen was footage from today’s trip to the festival, wherethey’d filmed plenty of shots of revelers, stalls, decadent foods, white winter snow, and festival rides. There was enough footage to put together a quaint Christmas Festival commercial that would include a voiceover about how wonderful it was. In her notes, she’d suggested possible voiceover candidates, actors, and actresses who could illustrate the magic of the season. But it wasn’t enough. Her contract wasn’t fulfilled. There was a whole commercial left to film.
Willa went to the window to watch as the snowfall quickened and thickened. She knew that a snow like this would come on fast and trap her inside her cabin, maybe for a full day or more. She checked her cabinets for supplies and realized she desperately needed a grocery run, as she was out of wine. It wasn’t like her to be so ill-prepared. But you didn’t have to be so prepared in a city with every kind of convenience mere steps outside your door.
Willa thrummed with questions of what to do. She hadn’t seen Marius since the other day, when she’d left him at the most romantic moment possible—right when it had seemed like they might finally kiss. They hadn’t been texting, probably because Marius sensed that she wanted him to stay away.
But I don’t want you to stay away!Willa tried to think at him, all the way down here in her little cabin by the water.I want so many things! I don’t know how to welcome joy into my life!
She wondered, for the first time, if Rosemary had been lonely in this cottage by herself when she was alive. Maybe, when Willa and Amelie had come by to play in her yard, she’d looked forward to the next time, hopeful for the sense of family they’d provided.
Rosemary must have been in love, once. How often had she thought of that love, alone here in the cabin?
Would Willa be that lonely down the road?Don’t think about that now, she told herself, hurrying for her coat, scarf, gloves,and hat. Before she could thoroughly think about her plans, she threw some clothes in her midsize bag, along with her laptop, notebook, and a few books. With the bag wrapped around her shoulder, she was in the garage, drawing her mother’s Schwinn into the swirling snow. If she waited another hour, she wouldn’t be able to bike through the streets. It had to be now.
She wouldn’t be caught all alone in a cabin in the middle of a blizzard.
Although a part of Willa yearned to bike up the hill to Marius’s stables, she knew it was too dangerous to go that far. It was quicker to go back toward town, back toward her sister.
The sister I was so cruel to today, Willa thought, wincing as she raced through the freezing weather.
