Page 54 of Willow in the Wind

“Mom, it’s me,” Stella said.

There was silence at the other end.

“Mom?”

“I don’t know what to say,” her mother offered. There was a crack in her voice. “Your father and I have been worried sick.”

Stella’s heart pounded. She closed her eyes. “I’m safe, Mom. I sent you those postcards.”

“The world is in turmoil, Stella,” her mother went on. “We need you here. With us. With your family.”

Stella filled her lungs. The idea of leaving James and leaving their adventure felt terrifying. She physically couldn’t do it.

“I’ll be home soon,” Stella breathed. “I promise.”

“Call me tomorrow with your flight details,” her mother shot back. “I’ll come to Boston to pick you up.”

Stella returned to the room to find James dressed. She pressed her fists against his chest. “I don’t think I ever want to go home.”

He laughed and kissed her. “Let’s never go home. I’ll make a call, too.” He left her in the hotel room and bounded down the hall. Stormy winds barrelled against the windows and shook the glass. Stella got under the covers and thought about her parents and her brothers. She thought about her high school boyfriend, who’d gone to college in Chicago. Her love for him felt pathetic when compared to her borderline obsession with James.

She was sure this was what real love was supposed to feel like.

An hour passed. Stella was surprised. James had hardly made any phone calls since their adventure had begun. She hoped everything was all right in London. Maybe his mother was talking his ear off. Maybe he had a brother with big news to share.

Another hour passed. Stella’s heart beat like a drum. The storm raged outside, but she was starving and very aware that James was apt to wander off, meet a bunch of Greek men, and have the time of his life without her. So she wandered downstairs, looking for him. He wasn’t at the pay phone. The hallway where it was looked strange and barren. Donning her raincoat, she wandered the street and found a vibrant-looking taverna. Greek men and women beckoned her in from the storm and set her up with wine, spanakopita, and lamb. She searched through the crowd for James, but he wasn’t there. Her Greek was pathetic; she could only thank them and ask them basic questions. A man in the corner played guitar and sang, and Stella was suddenly frightened she would never see James again. Anxiety splintered her ribs.

But all at once, James entered the restaurant. His hair dripped with rain, and his face had aged maybe five years. Stella got up and reached for him, but already he had a glass of wine and his arm around a Greek man who laughed at his jokes. He downed the first glass of wine in a matter of minutes, and then someone approached to give him a refill.

Stella hurried over to him. “James? Are you all right?”

The Greek man beside James asked James a question. Stella thought he asked, “Is this your wife?” or something like that. James sucked his wine and said something back, something that made the Greek man laugh uproariously. He banged his thigh.

Stella felt as though they were making fun of her.

“James, what’s going on?” Stella demanded.

“We’re just hanging out, Stella,” James said. He couldn’t look her in the eye. “Sit down. Relax. Everyone thinks you’re beautiful. Everyone is glad you’re here.”

Stella looked at him through squinted eyes. She couldn’t make sense of him. He seemed so strange.

But she didn’t want to fight with him. So she went back to her seat, drank some wine, and watched as he fell into deeper conversation with the Greek man. James’s face was blotchy; he was talking a lot, and she had the impression that he’d never opened up to her in this way. And he was doing it in a language he’d just picked up over the past few months!

Stella realized he was very drunk within two hours. When he tried to stand, James fell back down immediately. It was only seven at night.

The Greek man he’d been speaking to helped him to his feet and gestured for another guy to help him. It seemed like they were going to carry him to bed. Stella hurried forward. She had one of the hotel room keys ready. She would follow the men and make sure James got into bed safely.

The Greek man James had been talking to held up his hands in front of Stella. In English, he said, “James needs time.”

Stella was taken aback. “Time? What do you mean?”

James could hardly look Stella in the eye. Was he ashamed of something? Who had he been talking to on the phone?

James staggered away with two other Greek men on either side of him. They left Stella with James’s new best friend.

“He has been running for too long,” the man said. “He needs time.”

“Running?” Stella gaped at him.

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