As far as Willa could tell, the road to the farm, thirty kilometers west of Saint John, hadn't changed in twenty years. It wound past the hill where she had picked blueberries every summer, and over the creek. She stared out the truck window, jerking forward as Don shifted gears. The house was gone, burned down long ago. The clothesline pole leaned drunkenly. The root cellar had caved in, and the outbuildings looked ready to follow suit. The barn was a hollow-eyed shell. Fireweed, ragwort and thistles overran the gardens.
Willa could feel the tension in her shoulders loosening. She stretched and yawned. She had spent years ignoring the farm when, all along, there hadn't been much left to ignore.
Don pulled over to the side of the road. Engine running, he opened the driver's door and leaned out to get a better look. He was as lean and wired as Willa was plump and unhurried. "Goddamned soft and curvy," he had said on their fourth date. "Curvy as a double scoop." Corny as day-old chowder, Willa had thought wryly, but she couldn't resist letting herself slip, effortlessly beneath his cliched charm. She knew perfectly well that Don was a dreamer, the worst kind, impetuous, high-strung and stubborn. But he was also honest and fearless and couldn't walk by a stroller without waggling his fingers in his ears.
"This is it, chicka. It's ours. All ours." Don slid back inside the truck, grinning like a fool. Ten years after they met, he was still a salt-and-pepper, leather-skinned version of James Dean.
"Sure it's ours, all ours." Willa laughed as he pinned her into the corner of the cab, popping the buttons on her shirt. She made a half-hearted effort to shoo him away. "Temporarily. Remember what Emily said--"
"Shit. Who cares what Miss Pucker Lips says? It's ours chicka. All ours." His head slid down her breast.
"Temporarily," Willa whispered into his hair. It smelt like peppermints and smoke. The farm might have changed in the past twenty years, but she hadn't. Willa still hated the place.
They quickly developed a routine. After scrubbing and....
Hope you enjoyed this excerpt from Roads Unravelling, published by Sumach Press.
