Coming In From the Cold(30)

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Callie dropped Willow off, but couldn't stay. "I have to get home before the roads get worse."

"Thank you for coming with me!" Willow beamed at her friend.                       
       
           



       

"I wouldn't have missed it," Callie said.

It would be dark in half an hour, and even snowier. So Willow didn't go  into the house. Instead, she went into her garage where the feed bags  waited. She had already knocked one of the fifty-pound bags onto a  kiddie sled. All she had to do was pull it to the barn.

Willow headed out across the yard, the wind whipping her hair all  around. When she reached the barn, she opened the door and dragged the  chicken feed inside. "Coming through, girls," she said as the sled began  to catch on their wood shavings. She scooted forward, toward the feed  bin.

This next part would be tricky.

Willow tipped the empty feed bin on its side. Then she tugged the  rounded end of the sled into its opening. Moving around behind the sled,  she grabbed the back and tried to lever it up, tilting the fifty-pound  bag into the bin.

Instead, the plastic sled bent in the middle.

"Damn it," she said. It wasn't going to work. So she squatted over the feed bag and put her hands on either side.

"Can I help you with that?"

Willow whirled around to see Dane leaning in the doorway. There was snow  in his hair. He'd grown a beard, which made his face look a bit older  and more serious. His expression matched-it was grave and thoughtful.  But it was still the same man who made her breath hitch when she looked  at him. Those sharp blue eyes and long lashes looked back at her. And  then he was moving toward her, the tips of his crutches landing in the  wood shavings.

Too surprised to speak, Willow backed out of his way.

Dane laid his crutches on the floor. Then he righted the bin, bent his good knee, picked up the feed bag and dropped it in.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling rattled. "I've been trying not to lift … " She stopped, clamping her lips together.

He stood up slowly. "Lift things," he said. Then his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Oh no. She felt herself trembling.

"Willow," he began. Then he put one hand on the wall of the barn to steady himself. "Are you going to have a baby?"

Terrified of his reaction, she only nodded.

Slowly he closed his eyes, lifting one hand to his temple. "God, I'm so relieved."

For a second she couldn't say anything. "You are?" she stammered.

He nodded, looking unsteady. "Because … " he said. "Because I didn't wreck  you, Willow. You made your own call." He tipped his head back with a  sigh. "I said awful things, and you stood your ground."

"It wasn't an easy decision, and I don't know if I did the right thing,"  she said, hearing herself start to babble. "But my gut said I do want a  child. The timing is awful, but I really do."

The look on his face was so raw, so vulnerable that it startled her.  "You're impressive, Willow. You meet assholes right and left … ." He shook  his head. "Nobody breaks you. Not the idiot who left you, not me, not  the jokers at the bar that night … " he cleared his throat. "Hang on. I  didn't even get to say it yet." He bent over and plucked his crutches  off the ground. Then he hitched a step closer to her.

She just stared up at him. She had to stop herself from reaching out to  touch him, to acknowledge that he was really here, talking to her.

"Willow, I just want to apologize. Everything I said-I wish I could  unsay it. I'm just so sorry I was cruel. You deserve so much better."

At that moment, a gust of wind banged the barn door on its hinges, and the chickens stirred in fright.

Willow felt her heart in her throat. "Dane, a blizzard is coming and … "  she was suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded. She'd been yearning-no-she'd  been desperate for his apology. But actually hearing it was scary. The  decision to cut him out of her life completely was a painful one, but  also uncomplicated. Now here he was, his eyes begging. She didn't know  what to do with it.

"There's more I need to say, Willow." His voice was low. "Can we talk in the house?"

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Just … give me a minute." She turned  away from him, her heart fluttering. The chicken feeder was stocked and  their water bottle adequately filled. "Hang in there, girls," Willow  called. "See you in the morning." She pulled her hood back over her  head. She followed Dane out of the barn, sliding the brand new latch  back into place.





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Outside, the world was a darkening swirl. Snow coated every surface, and  drifts began accumulating at the base of every tree. Willow went ahead  of Dane, opening the door to her kitchen. She kicked off her shoes and  went to sit on the couch, lighting the table lamp in the corner.                       
       
           



       

Across the room, Dane struggled to free himself of his one snowy boot.  When he eventually came crutching toward her, she watched him approach,  half thrilled that he wanted to talk, and half terrified of what he  might say.

"Willow," he said, hesitating before her. "You don't have to look at me like that. I'll never say a word against you again."

She took a deep breath and then blew it out. "I think there were  extenuating circumstances. Callie told me. What you thought you had … the  genetic … "

He maneuvered around the coffee table, then sat down beside her. Slowly,  he reached out, covering one of her hands where it lay on the cushion  between them. "But I was nasty, Willow. I was mean to the only person … "  he bit off the end of the sentence. "I can't get the sound of it out of  my head."

She withdrew her hand, then crossed her legs, turning to face him. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"I wasn't careful, when I said that I was."

He shook his head. "It happens. Usually to people who aren't us."

She studied him, finding his clear eyes steady. She wanted this Dane-the  accepting one-to stick around. But she wasn't ready to trust it. "Can I  show you something I got today?"

"Anything."

Even then, Willow hesitated. But his blue eyes were patient, waiting.  She stood up and pulled the little stack of sonogram pictures out of her  pocket, handing them to him. Willow could feel her heart pounding in  her ears as he looked at first one and then the others.

"Wow," he whispered, glancing up at her with wonder on his face. "I can't believe this is real."

"That was my reaction, too," she admitted.

He laughed, holding the pictures closer to the lamp. "A tiny little  ski-racing chicken farmer." He let the pictures fall into his lap. "I  have absolutely no experience with this. So I need to ask, how can I  help you?" He cleared his throat. "I need to know. Beyond fixing all the  little broken things on the outside of your house. What can I really  do?"

The question made her heart race. "I … I really have no idea. I never thought you'd ask."

Dane flinched. "That's fair."

"I guess … " She cleared her throat. "I've got it covered for the next six months."

"Okay." He sighed. "Willow, I'm going to be off these crutches soon."

"That's good."

"Sure. But in a couple of weeks, I'm supposed to be headed out west."

Oh.

Willow felt an unnameable pressure in her chest. Whether or not it was a  sane reaction, the idea that Dane would go away forever made her  unbearably sad. "I see." She looked at her hands.

"Willow?" She looked up to find his handsome jaw set in a serious expression. "If you told me not to go, I wouldn't."

Her heart leapt, but she didn't trust it.

His face was nervous. "I know I don't really deserve it, but I have to  ask, because I'll regret it forever if I don't. Is there any way I could  spend some time with you?"

Hope began to bubble up inside her, but Willow tried to beat it back.  There were still so many issues. "But I'm having a baby you don't want."

He shook his head. "Who knows what I want, Willow? For years I never let  myself ask. I'm a big mess. But I just … You amaze me, Willow. Every time  I see your face, I feel happy."

"I …  people don't say those things to me." There was a lump in her throat the size of New England.

"They should. And I wish I'd said it earlier. But I …  I quarantined  myself. I've never had a girlfriend, because I thought it wouldn't be  fair to her. That means I've never told anyone I loved her. I've never  even said, ‘I'll call you tomorrow.' Christ … " he broke off, rolling his  eyes. "I'm really selling myself here, aren't I?"