Page 56 of Willow in the Wind

Stella bowed her head. He was going to tell her just what he thought of it.

Did that mean she could finally tell him how she really felt?

She hadn’t put it all in the book.

She’d kept some of it for herself.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Crete - September 2001

Stella returned to the hotel room thirty minutes after the Greek men carried James away. To her surprise, she found James tucked away in bed, his head buried in a pillow. Tears glinted on his cheeks. She sat down beside him and placed her hand on his naked back. The rain had intensified, and she’d gotten wet on her walk. Droplets fell onto the sheets from her hair.

He still smelled vaguely of alcohol. His lips were stained red with wine. But when he opened his mouth, his breath smelled minty. He’d had the foresight to brush his teeth.

“I’m sorry I left you at the taverna like that,” he said. He couldn’t look at her.

Stella’s heart shattered. She let a beat pass before she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about your mother?”

James raised his shoulders.

“That man said you lost her in June,” Stella went on. And then, quieter, she added, “No wonder you never wanted to talk about anything from the past.”

James blinked. It was clear he didn’t want to discuss his mother. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Listen, James. I love you. That’s real,” Stella declared, her voice breaking. “And love means telling each other stuff like this. It means sharing our innermost secrets.”

James touched Stella’s hair and tucked it behind her ear. It was a tender act; it was also dismissive, as though he wanted to politely ask her to shut up. Stella sighed and went to the bathroom to pull her hair into a ponytail and brush her teeth. She was grateful to be out of the sailboat, but it was as though the magic of their sailing had died out and left them in the horrors of their secrets.

Maybe in the sunlight of tomorrow, they would find a way to talk about this.

It was just a hiccup.

But that night, Stella dreamed of Nantucket Island. She dreamed of her mother screaming at her to get a job. She dreamed of a little boy wearing only a diaper and wandering along the shore.Is that my son?she wondered in the dream.

She woke up sweating and anxious. It took her a minute to figure out where she was.

The storm had calmed and left a blissful and sunny morning. Outside was a blue sky like a miracle. Stella sat up and listened to the sounds of James in the bathroom: showering, brushing out his hair. He wasn’t whistling like he normally did. But he’d had a hard night. Maybe he was hungover. Perhaps she could go to the bakery down the road and get them breakfast and coffee.

That was when she noticed his bag. It was packed with his things and propped up near the door.

Her heart sank.

But it was only a backpack. Maybe it meant he wanted her to pack, too. Perhaps it meant he wanted to go back to the sailboatand head north to Santorini or west to Italy. Maybe he had another adventure planned.

James left the bathroom and looked down at her in bed. His cheeks were hollow. He sat down on the bed and put his hand on her calf.

“Should we get coffee?” Stella asked. She sounded on the verge of tears.

“I have to go home,” he said.

Stella’s face was scrunched. She knew she looked ugly when she cried.

“I’ll go with you,” Stella said.

James shook his head. “Something is going on at home. Something I have to take care of.”

“I can help you,” Stella said.