Willow's Crystal: Island Women, #2

By Anne L. Watson

Rai Ireland has built a respectable life for herself as a novice real-estate lawyer on Washington's San Juan Island. But when her hippie mother, Willow, comes to stay with her, Rai finds herself stretched between the Rachel she calls herself now and the Rainbow her mother thinks her to be. Besides, it hardly seems fair that Willow adjusts so easily to island life, while Rai still navigates the narrow straits of dating on a small island.
 
This is Book 2 in Anne L. Watson's Island Women trilogy, which includes "Cassie's Castaways," "Willow's Crystal," and "Benecia's Mirror."
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shepard & Piper
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781620352434

Book preview

WILLOW’S CRYSTAL

Island Women

— Book 2 —

Anne L. Watson

Shepard & Piper

Friday Harbor, Washington

2015

Copyright © 2015 by Anne L. Watson

Ebook Version 1.2.1

Anne L. Watson, a retired historic preservation architecture consultant, is the author of several novels, plus books on such diverse subjects as soapmaking and baking with cookie molds. She currently lives in Friday Harbor, Washington, in the San Juan Islands — the home base of her Island Women trilogy — with her husband and fellow author, Aaron Shepard, and their cat, Skeeter.

The Island Women Trilogy

Cassie’s Castaways ~ Willow’s Crystal ~ Benecia’s Mirror

Other Novels

Skeeter: A Cat Tale ~ Pacific Avenue ~ Joy ~ Flight ~ A Chambered Nautilus ~ Departure

Lifestyle

Living Apart Together

For more about Anne and

her books, please visit

www.annelwatson.com

1

Willow

Willow trudged miserably along Mission Street. Another job gone, and this time it was her own fault. Sort of, anyway. The owner of the health food store had done as much of that, whatever they called it, practicing medicine without a license, as she had. And the customer who complained couldn’t say for sure who had told her that coconut-oil soap would cure her psoriasis. Willow couldn’t even remember whether she’d recommended that or not. She’d always tried to help people. Why was that such a big deal? Why was that against the law?

Anyway, the store was gone. Closed. Jobs were scarce. And at forty-five years old, she’d reached the point where employers weren’t interested, even if they did have a job opening. They weren’t supposed to discriminate, but just try to prove it.

Forty-five. When had that happened? Willow could see, could smell, the San Francisco of the sixties. Cold fog that could roll in on the hottest summer day. The licorice scent of wild fennel plants in empty lots, bitter and smoky when they burned in summer droughts. Old buildings with peeling paint. Cold apartments where you stepped over huddled sleepers on the floor. Music everywhere.

The sidewalks, nearly empty in the mornings, thronged at night. Wind in your face no matter which way you turned. Clusters of young people passing a joint. Always, the old people doing a double take a few seconds after you passed.

Willow had loved San Francisco then. She’d never felt at home before, and suddenly she was a flower in a garden. She belonged.

And then it was over.

Only by then, she had Rainbow, her baby, and that had been great, too. She’d belong to someone forever.

That memory cheered her up, but not for long. She and Rai belonged together, of course. But Rai had gone to her first job as soon as she finished school, off to some island in the Pacific Northwest. Rai must own a whole wardrobe of raincoats and color-coordinated umbrellas. Pink, green, even bright yellow like her slicker in grade school. Willow stopped walking as she fell into a daydream of Rai splashing through a downpour in her slicker.

Rai, all grown up now — except she seemed to get shorter with every step, the way cotton shrinks in the wash. Finally, only three feet tall, she clutched an umbrella that was way too big for her, giggling as she fought the wind. Smaller and smaller, until nothing was left but the little girl on the box of Morton’s salt. Everything around Willow began to curve into a cylinder like a salt box.

Willow shook her head to clear it. No flashbacks. She hadn’t had one in a long time, not since before Rai was born. Maybe she needed to eat something. She’d had to pinch pennies since she lost her job, and being hungry or tired could make anyone feel weird.

If only Rai hadn’t gone. Willow had tried to persuade her to stay. What does Washington have that you can’t find here, Rainbow? she’d asked. Why can’t you work in San Francisco? There’s lots of lawyers here.

Rai hadn’t bought it. Mom, be honest. You’re clinging to a memory. Whatever you had here in 1967 is over. It’s as far in the past as the forties were when you were a kid.

No way.

Do the math, Rai said. Nineteen ninety-five minus 1967 is 28. Nineteen sixty-seven minus 28 is 1939. Just before World War II. How close did that feel when you were young?

Are you sure? You came up with that too fast. Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake?

I didn’t think of it just now, Mom. I figured it out a while ago, because of the way you live in the past.

I don’t live in the past!

I didn’t think so till we moved back here. Rai said. Now I wonder if you’re waiting for a time machine to take you back to the happy days. But the Haight was over in a year or two. It is so gone now, it’s ancient history. Why don’t you move to Friday Harbor with me?

How did you get a job there, anyway? It’s the ends of the earth.

"I applied for it, and they hired me. I’ve moved with you enough times, God knows. I can’t count the different places we’ve lived. For once, why don’t you come with me?"

Willow didn’t have an answer. Not one Rai would understand, anyway. So Rai had gone, and Willow had stayed behind.

Willow sighed. Why couldn’t that old bag with the psoriasis have just let it go? Psoriasis wasn’t cancer or something. So the soap disappointed her, so what? What had the damned thing cost, anyway? Five bucks? Good God, who cared? What a weird lady, weird and greedy, the way people seemed to be now.

No. Anger is bad karma. The thought was automatic, but Willow believed it wholeheartedly.

Besides, the City hadn’t changed that much. Plenty of good people had stayed in San Francisco, spread around town since the Haight was over, but not gone. Willow could get a roommate and another job. All she had to do was put an ad on a card in the Laundromat, the way everyone used to. If she didn’t find a job right away, she could get food stamps. She’d done it before, no big deal.

She wouldn’t let that woman take San Francisco away from her. She didn’t have to give up the sun, and the ocean, and Golden Gate Park in the summer. She could keep the Victorian buildings, BART, Ghirardelli Square, and the Cannery. Views of the bridges. Hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurants, better than expensive places anywhere else. Dim sum parlors buzzing with customers on a Sunday afternoon. Chinese funerals with out-of-tune trumpets and a poster photo of the dear departed mounted on top of the hearse. Old Italian guys playing bocce ball in the park. Crooked streets and sidewalk stairs. It was too much to leave.

She noticed a man in a ragged coat begging on the corner, trying to attract the attention of drivers stopped at the traffic light. In the spirit of old times, she put one of her last dollars into his hat.

2

Rai

"You’re in the hospital?" I shrieked into the phone.

Don’t yell, Rainbow. Please. My head hurts.

Sorry. I got control of my voice. Are you okay?

"I’m not too okay, or I wouldn’t be in San Francisco General."

Sorry. Got it. What’s wrong?

Well, there was this guy begging.

And?

And I went to give him something.

And?

He turned around and flashed me.

So? You always said flashers were no big deal.

It wasn’t that. He looked just like every other guy — who cares? But I was in a bad mood, and I said something that made him mad.

What, for God’s sake?

I said, ‘Hey, that looks just like a dick, only smaller.’

I groaned, but couldn’t help snorting with laughter at the same time. Not a good combination. When I was done coughing, I said, That was not smart, Mom.

Yeah, I know. He lunged at me.

Did he hit you?

No, I dodged. He never touched me.

So why are you in the hospital?

I dodged out into traffic on Mission.

Oh, God. What happened?

They weren’t going fast. I got knocked down, but I only have a broken arm and a slight concussion. And a few scrapes. I’m just in the hospital overnight for observation, but I wanted to let you know.

What about work? Can you do your job with a broken arm?

The store closed. So I don’t have a job anyway.

I put my forehead in the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. I wasn’t supposed to take personal calls at work, but