Page 13 of Won't Back Down
Well… that was… new. Definitely more appealing than many of the ways I’d worked to overcome panic attacks. It was really just too damned bad there’d be no following through and showing him my appreciation, up close and personal.
“Willa, honey, I just want to talk,” Mom pleaded. “After all this time, don’t you want to reconnect?”
She might not have been at the root of how I was treated, but she hadn’t lifted a finger to stop it, so no. I wasn’t about to change my mind.
Instead, I laid a hand on Sawyer’s arm, feeling the coiled tension. “Let’s go.”
After several long moments of glowering, Sawyer laid his free hand protectively over mine and turned us both toward the door. I had no idea what my parents thought of his display, nor did I care. It only mattered that I’d gotten through seeing them without falling apart.
Unless someone talked, and they found out where we were really holding the wake, I’d have a reprieve until the reading of the will.
I’d take every minute I could get.
CHAPTER 6
SAWYER
The Sutter’s Ferry Community Center was packed. The whole place held a surprising air of revelry, which was a damn sight better than the somber receiving line Willa had imagined that day up at Sutter House. She’d been so wound up about the idea of having all these people tromping through her grandparents’ house that I’d convinced her to think outside the box and do something entirely different. Instead of a formal wake, we were having a memorial potluck at the community center, which the Sutters themselves had funded decades before.
Tables were set up along one wall, groaning under the weight of all the death casseroles, mini sandwiches, dessert bars, and other offerings. There was certainly enough food to feed the army of people who were coming through. Poster-sized photos of Willa’s grandparents sat on easels marking either end of a massive bulletin board. Everyone in town had been invited to bring and post pictures of Henry and Vivian. Over the past hour and a half, it had filled up.
I hadn’t known Henry and Vivian Sutter all that well, but I thought maybe they’d really appreciate this more community-centric version of remembrance. Certainly, it was a lot easier on Willa herself. All we’d had to do was notify Mimi and Mama Flo, and they’d reached out to everyone else to get shit done. There’d been no written invitation. The call had gone out on the island grapevine. Hence, there was very little chance that John and Victoria Hollingsworth would know about it.
I had no idea if they’d headed up to Sutter House expecting… something. They weren’t staying up there. According to the rumor mill, they’d booked a room at the boutique hotel in town. But nobody seemed to know exactly where they’d gone to ground after the memorial service. Were they even now walking through the house they assumed they owned, making an inventory of all the heirlooms that had been passed down by the Sutter family for generations? I didn’t really give a shit, so long as they stayed well away from Willa.
My gaze cut back to where she was holding court, flanked by Gabi and Bree, who’d made sure she had food and wine as she spoke to the latest in a long, long line of community members who wanted to pay tribute to her grandparents. Because they’d assumed guard duty, I was patrolling the perimeter, still trying to walk off the simmering rage toward her father. John Hollingsworth wasn’t the kind of guy to get his hands directly dirty, but oh, how I’d wished he’d taken a swing, so I could’ve handed him his ass. Even though I knew Willa would’ve absolutely hated the scene that would’ve caused. Squaring off with them at the church, I’d seen more of the little girl I’d dubbed Wren. But she hadn’t run, hadn’t hidden, no matter how much she’d wanted to.
It made me appreciate how fucking hard she’d worked to build a life here, despite everything. She had support. More, perhaps, than I’d given her credit for. And I was glad of it. In her own quiet way, she’d made her own niche in this community. That was how she wanted it. She’d never been someone who wanted to get anything because of her family name—either of them.
As I made my way around the room, I overheard snippets of conversations that made me realize just how much Willa had given back to the island since returning.
“If it wasn’t for Willa’s grant writing, we never would have been able to expand the library’s technology center last year.” This came from Marsha McCubbins, who’d been head librarian since we were kids. “Do you know the impact that’s had on our job training classes?”
The elderly man beside her folded his hands over the head of a cane. “I don’t know how we would have managed without the free school lunch program she helped establish. So many families rely on that now.”
“And don’t forget the no-kill animal shelter!” a teenager piped up. “We can adopt pets here now, instead of having to go to the mainland.”
It seemed her quiet acts of service had made a huge impact. No wonder she had the respect and appreciation of so many here on the island. It made me proud to see the adult she had become—still inherently kind-hearted and wanting to help others, just like the girl I remembered.
But as my gaze strayed back to her, I couldn’t help but see that, even surrounded by all these people I knew would help her in a minute, she managed to seem alone, as if there were a force field around her. I hated that. It made me remember Rapunzel in her tower. I seriously had no idea how anyone like her and Jace could come from the parents they had. Watching her navigate all this on her own, I hoped like hell the mission he was on was worth it. Not like he’d known about the death in the family when he’d taken the assignment, but still, it was hard not to resent the fact that he wasn’t here.
Then again, if he had been, I might not get to be this close to Willa myself. And that was another one of those details I just wasn’t gonna analyze right now.
Plenty of folks were still hovering, clustered in groups and talking as they waited for the chance to pay their respects, but I could see the droop in Willa’s shoulders as she began to wilt from all the people, the subtle flinch at the rising noise of competing voices. She needed a little distance, some fresh air and quiet to recalibrate, so I cut through the crowd.
Old Tobin Ruscoe leaned toward Willa, his rheumy eyes warm. “Your grandparents were the backbone of this community, Willa. I remember when that fierce hurricane hit us back in ’98. My family didn’t have a safe place to ride out the storm. Without hesitation, your grandparents opened the doors of their home, turning Sutter House into a makeshift shelter for anyone in need. They cooked for us, shared stories to keep our spirits up, and made sure every single person felt safe until the storm passed. Their kindness in those terrifying hours is something I’ll never forget. They were the reason so many of us stayed through all the hard years and keep calling Hatterwick home.”
Easing next to her, I jumped into the conversation. “I remember my dad talking about that storm. Made a hell of a mess.”
“Sure did. But we recovered and made things better than ever, because of the Sutters. We’re sure gonna miss them.”
She folded one of his gnarled hands between both of hers. “Thank you, Mr. Ruscoe. I appreciate you sharing that with me.”
I settled a hand on Willa’s shoulder and squeezed. “If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, I need to have a word with Willa.”
She shot me a look of vague alarm as I deftly steered her around the crowds and toward the back side of the building that faced the fishing docks. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You just need a breather. We’re getting out of here for a little bit.”