Mom died in a car accident three months before my eleventh birthday, shattering my world for the first time. Dad and I adapted, but the piece of my mother remained missing. Nonno was there for both of us, helping put our world back together again.
“Willow, do you have a second?”
With my hand on the wrought-iron door handle to the studio, I turned to the familiar voice of Chris, our gardener. He looked distraught. “Hey, Chris. Absolutely. I was about to start painting, so you caught me at a good time.”
When I painted, I locked the entire world away. It was only me, the canvas, and the emotions flowing through the brush. I lived for the rush.
His hazel eyes warmed; he knew it had been a while since I’d been in the studio. In some ways, Chris was like an uncle to me. Through the years, he and my dad had become close. Since my father’s death, he watched over me as if I were one of his children. I treasured the relationship.
“Did Alex tell you about firing Mildred?”
I gasped. “No! Why?”
There had to be a misunderstanding. Mildred had been the family housekeeper since I was in diapers. In many ways, she helped raise me.
Nervously, he shuffled his feet. “I don’t want to cause problems, Willow. She’s pretty upset. After you left yesterday, Mildred was in the study cleaning and found some papers behind a bookcase. Alex walked in, lost his temper, and fired her. He said some terrible things. I came in from outside, and when I walked in the room, he stormed off in a rage.”
A heavy stone landed on my heart. This was the crux of our arguments. He wanted everyone I considered family gone. The reasoning was he wanted to start out fresh—sell the house, fire all the staff, distance myself from my best friend, and us be in control of my multi-million dollar trust fund.
This was my home.
What I’d hoped to be our home.
Our children’s home.
Frustration brewed within me. Had Alex played me last night? I blew out some air in a gust. “Yesterday was a rough day for Alex and me. Mildred isn’t fired.”
Chris nodded. I knew he was holding back what he wanted to say. For a while now, I suspected he didn’t like Alex, but he supported me. Honestly, after how Alex acted, I doubted anyone was a fan.
I let go of the handle and exhaled, knowing painting would have to wait. Family first. “Is Mildred here?”
“She arrived just before you, after spending the night with her sister. I imagine Mildred is gathering her things from the guest house. Alex said she had until today to leave.”
I gave Chris a quick hug. “Thanks. I know this has been a tough few months with Alex’s condition. I promise it’s going to get better.”
“I worry about you, Willow.” The tone in his voice told me there were doubts to my words, which was fair. I had said something similar to him and Mildred about two months ago.
The truth was I worried about myself, too. How long was I going to be able to keep piecing everything back together? Dad always said marriage should be a lifelong commitment. But were there extenuating circumstances?
At times, I hoped the answer was yes.
Alex and I still had a lot to work out even after last night. I was still processing the fact he didn’t want kids. A month ago he informed me he’d changed his mind and kids were no longer an option for us.
“I appreciate you always looking out for me, Chris.” I took a few steps. “I need to go convince Mildred to stay. I’ll be back. I hope she will.”
Chris nodded. “Of course she’ll stay for you.”
I hoped so. The thought of her leaving left another empty hole in my chest.
Baby steps.
One day at a time.
That was the advice my therapist gave me for dealing with someone who had PTSD. I held out hope Alex and I were able to figure it out because this was our last chance.
The sun shone bright on this spring day in the Hamptons as I took off to the guest house on the left side of the painting studio. Landscaping hid the studio and guest house from the front.
Mildred’s familiar black car was parked next to her garage. Thank goodness she hadn’t left. As I got closer, I saw the door was left open. Sniffling sounds resonated through the air.
Pausing, I knocked. “Mildred?”
The air grew quiet, and then I heard Mildred answer. “Come in, Willow.” A duffel bag was near the door. “My brother is going to come help me get the heavy stuff. My sister just left with a load.”
Without thinking, I walked up to Mildred and threw my arms around her. “You’re not fired. I just found out from Chris what Alex did, or I would have come home last night. I stayed in the city. Mildred, you have a place here for as long as you like. Please don’t leave me.”
Strong arms came around my back as the middle-aged woman brought me to her. “I’m so sorry, Willow. I had no idea I was messing with Mr. Alex’s things. He lost his temper. I try. I really do. I love it here.”
Putting a little distance between us so I could see Mildred’s face, I felt the tears burning at the back of my eyes. At times, Alex had been a monster since he came back. “I love you here, too. Please stay. I will work everything else out. You’re family, Mildred. You will always have a place here.”
Later, when things simmered down, I would get the full story from Mildred. Right now, she was too emotional, and I knew she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
The normal fiery redhead, who kept the house in tiptop shape, wept some more. “I love you, too, Willow. So much. You’re like a daughter to me.”
“Will you stay? Please.”
She nodded with watery eyes. “I could never leave you, Willow. My heart broke thinking I had to leave.”
I shook my head fiercely. “Never. You will never have to leave here. If anything ever happens, come talk to me first, okay?”
I had to remain strong when all I wanted to do was cry after the beautiful night Alex and I shared.
More sniffles came from Mildred. “Okay. I’m going to freshen up and then head to the main house. I’ll have my sister bring back my stuff. How does lasagna sound tonight?”
The mention of lasagna made my mouth water. Being from a heavily influenced Italian ancestry, pasta was the way to my heart. “Mildred, please take the night off.”
She squeezed me and then stood back to wipe away the remnants of her tear. “Nonsense. Cooking helps relieve stress. I’ll make gelato for dessert.”
Gelato was my favorite form of ice cream. In fact, it was my go-to comfort food because of Mom. Mildred knew she had won. There was no way I could say no to gelato. “Will you make mint chocolate chip?”
“You bet. Let me straighten a few things out and I’ll be up at the main house.”
Crisis averted.
My nerves were frayed, and I was feeling like the hope had been diminished and last night had been a fluke.
Regardless of how Alex had been at the hotel, we needed to have a serious talk. Some things would need to change if our relationship was going to move forward. “I’m going to be in the painting studio. If Alex comes home, call the studio phone and I’ll be right up.”
“I will. I’m sorry about this mess.”
“It’s not your fault. Things are going to change, I promise.” My words were spoken as a vow.
Mildred gave me a small smile as the light in her eyes grew. “I’m so glad you’re painting again. Off you go.”
Mildred walked me to the door and we hugged again. With little shooing motions, she ushered me out. “I’ll have dinner waiting. Take your time painting.”
“I will. Thank you, Mildred. Thank you for staying on while it’s been difficult. I promise things are going to change.”
With a deep breath, she responded, “We’ll get through this.”
An unspoken statement came out in her words. Life has been hard. And she was right. How had I got myself into such a mess?
I meandered back across the lawn. My heart was torn. Last night, it felt like Alex was the
man I fell in love with in college. The man I thought I’d married. But after hearing about the altercation with Mildred, I wasn’t sure.
For good measure, I took out my phone and called Alex.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“This is Alex. You know what to do.” Beep.
He never picked up his phone. Internally, I wanted to scream. But I took a deep breath and hung up. Instead I would text him. When Alex got home, he would see how serious I was.
Me: Please call me. We need to talk about Mildred. She’s staying and that is not negotiable. Hopefully, you were serious about things changing last night. I can’t go back to the way they were. I won’t.
I stared at the phone, willing a response to come. My message stared back at me almost in a mocking manner.
Were people able to be saved after they let a demon take root in them for so long? I hoped the answer was yes, that our story was just beginning after having a rocky start.
Hopefully, things would settle and rational Alex would walk through the door when he got home. Normally, I hardly ever called Alex because he kept his phone turned off and rarely had it with him being an undercover cop. However, he said he’d be home tonight in his note, which meant he wasn’t undercover.
I let out another sigh. I hated Alex being an undercover cop because I knew the situation was less than ideal for someone diagnosed with PSTD. A few times, I asked him how he passed the medical assessments to become an undercover cop. The doctor we’d visited together signed the release. No doubt the doctor was a quack. I hadn’t trusted him from the second I entered his office. But Alex refused to get a second opinion. A shudder ran through me at the memory of some of the fights we had when I questioned him. The subject was closed. Period.