Three years later
Isaac
I sat in a corner of the costume tent, turning a little blue velvet box over and over in my hand. This wasn’t the safest place to inspect a secret treasure—the cast of As You Like It was in and out of the tent at intermission, drinking water and changing costumes. I turned my back to the noise and opened the box.
An old European-cut diamond sat in a nest of smaller diamonds and lacy filigree. The antique dealer called the style “pierce-work”—delicate little cuts and designs surrounding the diamond. “Quite popular in Edwardian times,” he said. “My guess is it was made in nineteen ten.”
The setting was simple and delicate. Perfect for Willow’s little hand. But the diamond was a full carat, and the sunlight streaming through a seam in the tent glinted off the stone, throwing perfect little rainbows on the canvas.
It’s perfect for her.
I hoped. Christ, my nerves were bunching my stomach in tight knots. Yanked even tighter when I heard Willow’s laugh toward the front of the tent. I snapped the box shut and stuffed it into my light brown costume jacket.
Because we were performing As You Like It in the amphitheater, Martin wanted a picnic-like feel to reflect the lightness of the comedy. The cast wore 19th-century pastoral clothing—smart trousers, jackets, and high-collared shirts for the men. The women wore Victorian-style dresses, except for Willow. As Rosalind, she spent much of the play disguised as a man named Ganymede, instructing my Orlando on how to win Rosalind’s heart.
I already had Willow’s heart, and for the last three years, my happiness was something out of a goddamn dream.
I spent nearly all of my $7 million on the Harmony Community Theater and its restoration. The City Council approved it quick because my only condition was Martin Ford be named artistic director and manager. He had final say over everything, until such time as he retired or wanted to move on to something else.
I expected Wexx to retaliate, instead they backed off. Or rather, they retreated without surrendering, putting their resources into Xavier’s legal team, gathering lawyers like an army. Because the lack of evidence meant Willow’s accusation had no bite, Xavier’s lead attorney was going with a strategy he actually called “the slut defense.”
Little did he know, Willow’s single act of bravery started a chain reaction. Her words broke down a wall of silence, leaving her bruised and bloodied, true. But also leaving a hole that more women came through, ready to tell their stories.
Four more women accused Xavier Wilkinson. One of whom had DNA evidence.
Xavier was sentenced to seven years in prison. It was as if the last cloud on the horizon lifted. Willow came alive in Harmony. We bought her house in The Cottages with some backend money from my last movie. We fixed it, remodeled it, and put in some air conditioning.
While it was being renovated, I did a short, six-week turn off-Broadway, playing Tom in The Glass Menagerie. Willow played Honey in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf to intense acclaim a few doors down. But we always came back to Harmony. Came home to the life that was more precious to us than anything in New York.
I always thought being tucked away in this corner of the world would be stifling. Instead, with Willow, I found the Harmony of my youth. The town I knew before my mother died. Recast as my home, with Marty and Brenda as my parents, Benny as my little brother.
And now, hopefully, with Willow as my wife.
My nerves tightened. I had a speech planned out. A declaration of my love, because she deserved all the words of my heart.
Martin came up to me, glanced once over his shoulder, and gave me a grin. “Can I see it again?”
Willow was deep in conversation with Lorraine. I quickly showed Martin the ring.
“It’s not too much, right? But not too small either. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
Just as they did every time he looked at the damn ring, Marty’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s going to love it. It’s exactly her.”
I snapped the box shut again and stuffed it in my jacket. “Holy fucking shit.”
Martin laughed. “You’re going to wait until the cast party tonight? Please tell me you are. The play’s halfway done. Almost there.”
“Yeah, I’ll wait. If she says no, I’ll be the most depressing Orlando you’ve ever seen. Turn your comedy into a tragedy.”
“You know she’s going to say yes,” he said. “But if you ask her before Rosalind and Orlando are done falling in love, they’ll have that… What’s the word young folks like to use? Insta-love?”
I laughed. “It took us six years to get here,” I said, my voice turning soft. “I could’ve asked her to marry me the day I came back to Harmony. Or any minute in between. But I wanted her to trust me. That I could be here in Harmony and be happy.”
Marty sniffed. “You need to save those words for her.”
“I have more. A lot more.”
“After the show.” He looked around behind him. “Someone wants to say hi, if that’s okay.”
I glanced over his shoulder and saw Benny—Ben, now—at the tent. I grinned. “Send him over.”
Martin left and Ben took his place, staring around, his hands jammed in the pocket of his jeans. Nineteen now, he was tall and solid; the kid I’d known was gone.
He’s the same age as I was when I met Willow.
“Hey, man,” I said, rising to give him a hug. I laughed at his dubious expression as Len Hostetler belted an operatic-sounding vocal warm-up.
“Theatre people are the weirdest,” he said.
“You got that right.”
A short silence fell. Ben and I had talked when I came back to Harmony three years ago, but it had felt strained. My apology weak. He’d already lost his father and then I’d cut him out of my life. I don’t think he’d ever forgiven me for that, and I couldn’t blame him. The tension between us had never gone away, and then he’d gone to school. University of Southern Indiana. I could not be more proud, but he wasn’t mine to be proud of anymore and that hurt.
“So listen…” Ben’s shoulders came up, his arms stiffening. “I just wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done for my mom and me. Her house…my college.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, man, I do. It’s a lot.”
And I don’t want to owe you anything.
The subtext was there, all over his face.
Fix this. Tell him the truth. It’s what we do.
I glanced around the tent and held up my hands. “All of this? This is a lot. That woman standing over there?” I pointed at Willow laughing with Lorraine. “She’s a lot. This entire life I have now is a helluva lot, more than I’d thought I’d ever have.”
Ben frowned. “That’s not all on me.”
“It’s a lot on you,” I said. “You remember how you used to help me run lines for my shows? For Hamlet?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember all those scenes between Hamlet and Horatio?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t understand much of it.”
“Horatio is one of the most important characters in the play,” I said. “He’s Hamlet’s best friend. He’s the only character who sticks by Hamlet no matter what. And at the end of the play, when Hamlet is dying, it’s Horatio he asks to tell his story. Because he trusts him. They’d been friends longer than anyone.”
Ben’s eyes were brighter for a second, then he shrugged again. “Yeah? So?”
“So you were my Horatio, man. You were my friend when the entire town talked behind my back or laughed at Pops.”
“I was just a kid.”
I shrugged. “So was I.” I glanced around the tent again. “I have this theater, this show, because I hit it big in Hollywood. I made it to Hollywood because of my performance in Hamlet. And there’s no Hamlet without Horatio. I just want you to remember that.”
Ben thought about this for a second, dug his hands deeper in his pockets. “Well, we got to watch out for each other, right?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah, we do. And you did. Thank you, Benny. I owe you.”
His gaze flickered away, and then back. “I should get back. Leave you to it.” He turned to go and then swiveled to me instead to pull me in for a hug.
I held him tight, my jaw clenched to keep from losing it.
“Love you, man,” I said.
“You too,” he said, his voice tight. “Okay, break a leg,” he said, releasing me and turning away quickly. “See you after?”
I nodded, lips pressed together. “Absolutely.”
He smiled, waved a hand, and went out.
A low buzz of laughter and talk from the audience drifted on a light breeze under the summer sun. It was a full crowd today. Among them were Angie and Bonnie, Yolanda and Ben—my best friend, I thought with a smile—resuming his seat, along with all the friends Willow and I made around town.
Ben had always been enough of a friend when I was younger, but now I had more than I’d ever imagined. Our days were full of socializing, small dinner parties over candlelight and bottles of wine. After the door closed on the last guest, Willow and I reached for each other. We spent the sleepy warmth of morning in bed, talking and kissing, or clutching at the bed sheets in relentless ecstasy.
It was a life a poor kid from a broken house of violence could never have imagined.
The tent cleared out but Willow remained at the entrance, peeking through the flap at the audience. I moved to stand beside her.
“I see my parents,” she said. “My mother’s hat could provide shade for an entire village.”
Dan and Regina still lived in New York but visited Indiana twice a year. Breaking down the walls between us was a slow process, although Regina embraced me more readily than Daniel. He was proud. His apology didn’t come in one sentence. It took countless visits for him to finally grasp his daughter’s happiness. And the gratitude in his eyes as she laughed or smiled was apology enough for me.
Likewise, the relationship between Willow and her parents was improving, largely because of Willow’s generosity. My girl was filled with love. Bottomless. After being dimmed for so long, her light was blinding.
I glanced down at her, then back to the audience. Intermission was almost over. The two of us stood behind a curtain, waiting to take the stage together.
This was the perfect place. The perfect time.
There was no other.
Sorry, Marty, I thought. I can’t wait another minute.
As I mentally went over my prepared words, Willow moved closer. Her shoulder warm along my shoulder, her hand slipping into mine. “Isaac?”
“Mm.”
“There’s something I need to tell you. I was going to wait but I can’t. Not one more second.” Her lips brushed against my ear. “I’m pregnant.”
Every thought in my head evaporated as I stared at her. “What?”
She was radiant, joy coming out of her pores, shining in the blue topaz of her eyes. “I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby. Your baby.”
“My baby…”
My heart. God my fucking heart was going to explode out of my chest with happiness when I already thought it couldn’t contain a single ounce more.
She bit her lip, watching my dumbstruck reaction. “Are you happy? Or are you worried it’s too soon? Or…?”
“You really are?”
She nodded.
“Holy shit.” A shocked laugh burst out of me. “Holy shit, for real?”
“For real.”
I laughed again and ran a hand through my hair. “Fuck. I can’t remember any of my lines.” I took hold of her face, falling into the bright blue of her eyes. “You’re going to have a baby?”
She nodded, tears slipping down her cheek. “Yes, honey. I am.” She took my hand and put it over her stomach. “We are. I suspected I was pregnant a few weeks ago, and I took a test this morning.” She grinned. “I passed.”
“Oh my God.” I staggered away, then came back to kiss her again and again. “Is this my life?”
Her head nodded under my chin. “It is,” she whispered, and then her shoulders heaved a tremendous sigh. “I’m so glad you’re happy. I didn’t know how you’d react. I mean, we’re not even married.”
Another happy, disbelieving laugh burst out of me, and I reached into my pocket. “No, we’re not married,” I said, bringing out the box. “It’s lucky I happen to have this lying around.”
I held it up for her to see.
Willow’s eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. “Isaac…”
“I figured we might need it in case you ever wanted to make an honest man of me. I guess that day is today.”
“Oh my God.”
I dropped to one knee, my hands shaking as I opened the box. “Willow…I had so much to tell you. I had a whole speech… God, I can’t think.”
She stroked my cheek, shaking her head. “I hear it, Isaac. I hear it in every look, every touch. I hear you. The words of your heart.”
“I need to say it,” I swallowed hard. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, sinking to her knees. “Of course I will. Yes.”
I slipped the ring on her finger. Still kneeling in the tent, we kissed through tears until Martin called places.
“Oh God,” she said. “I can’t remember any of my lines now either.”
“We’ll just wing it,” I said.
“Wing Shakespeare?”
Willow stood up and I kissed her stomach, where my child was growing. Our child. A boy or girl who would know more love and happiness from their parents than we ever had. A child who would never, ever doubt that we loved.
On the circular stage, under a blaring sun, Willow, as Rosalind pretending to be someone else, smiled coyly at me.
“What would you say to me now, an I were your very, very Rosalind?”
“I would kiss before I spoke,” I said, and we looked through the characters to each other, and I knew she heard my unspoken words.
And tell you I love you.