Page 3 of Willow in the Wind

But fear about Taylor’s whereabouts tugged at his heartstrings.

That’s what being a father means,he thought.It means endless worry.

It had been easier to worry about her from across the Atlantic. She told him bits and pieces of her life. Nancy shared a little bit more although she’d confessed, “Taylor doesn’t tell me anything!” But now that Taylor was “under his jurisdiction,” James was perpetually panicked. Was she eating enough? How was her mental health? Was she bored? What was she hiding?James had been eighteen once. He knew being eighteen meant hiding most of your real life from your parents.

James had grown up in London, and Taylor had grown up in Manhattan. They were city kids, quick on their feet, eager to live and live and live. James was equally proud and terrified of the fact that Taylor was so much like him.

A couple of minutes down the road, James paused at a convenience store, where he considered buying a pack of cigarettes. Then he remembered his promises to Taylor, so he didn’t. But at the edge of the parking lot was a teenage boy with his moped. It gave James an idea.

“Hey there.” James approached slowly. He didn’t want to freak the kid out.

The kid looked up with bored eyes.These kids only ever want to be on their phones,James thought.They’re immune to the outside world.

“I live right down there, but I’m having some car trouble,” James explained, pointing backward with his thumb. “Would you be willing to rent me your moped for the afternoon?”

The kid blinked at him.

“Obviously, I’ll pay,” James said, pulling out his wallet. “I just need to get to town.”

“I’m going to town, too,” the kid said.

James smiled. He could easily call a taxi, he knew, but the taxi drivers on the island were often quite late or didn’t show up at all.

“I can take you,” the kid said. “For fifty.”

It was steep. But the kid knew he was dealing with a desperate man with cash. So James pulled a fifty out of his wallet and handed it over. “I’ll tip you when we get there,” he said.

James sat behind the kid on his moped, keeping his balance with his hands on his thighs as they whizzed toward town. They passed vacation villas and little shacks and the fishing port,where the fishermen relaxed beneath awnings, already done for the day.

The kid dropped James off near the sailboat docks. He tipped him ten and thanked him, and the kid sped off, going a little faster than normal, maybe in celebration of making a quick buck. James remembered what it was like. At that age, a little bit of money would take you far.

James walked through the sailboat docks, looking for hisStella. There were numerous glossy boats, many with mahogany interiors, leather seats, and televisions. Millionaires sat sunning on decks, adjusting their visors. They were very good at pretending nobody else was around although the boats were packed in like sardines.

James went up and down the docks for nearly an hour. There was no sign ofStella.

He was beginning to lose hope.

James walked to a little bar near the harbor, where he ordered a golden beer and sat at a round table in the shade. The bar was mostly empty, save for a few sailor-types playing cards in the corner. James wasn’t sure what to do. He knew what the right thing to do was. But was it what he really wanted?

With a heavy sigh, he pulled out his phone and tried to call Taylor again. This time, it rang and rang and rang, and she didn’t pick up.

Come on, Taylor.

Don’t screw up even more of my life.

There it is again: resentment. Anger.

I need to cut that out.

It isn’t the girl’s fault.

None of it is.

James grimaced and dialed Nancy.

“There he is. Mr. Adventure,” Nancy answered. She sounded slightly sarcastic and not-so-slightly tipsy. He pictured her inthe Hamptons at Mr. Handsome’s beachside house. But he knew Nancy would never get in any water that wasn’t chlorinated.

“Hey, Nancy.” James wanted to die on the spot. “How are you?”

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