Your Blue Eyes Ch.14

Willow opened her eyes just a slit, squinting in the bright morning sunlight. Where am I? she thought once again. This thought crossed her mind every morning. And there was only one answer every time. I'm here. At Anne's house. She had left home and had been residing with her new friend, Anne, for the past week or so.
A pang of homesickness struck her in the gut. Being asleep had reprieved the pain, but now that she was awake, it hit her full force. She commanded herself to get up, and trudged downstairs to the kitchen, where Anne was waiting. "Good morning, dear!" she chirped, smiling broadly.
Willow managed a weak smile. "Good morning, Anne."
"Come, come! Have a seat and eat up!"
Willow stifled a sigh, sat down, and ate as much as she could stomach, to appease the older woman. Soon, though, she felt like she was going to be sick. "So," she asked tightly, "any plans for today?"
"I'm going to the market today to buy some supplies," Anne answered. "But you're more than welcome to stay here if you want."
Willow nodded. "Thanks."
"Oh, you're welcome, dear. After I finish the dishes, I'll go."
"Do you need any help?" Willow offered half-heartedly.
"Goodness no! You just make yourself comfortable on the couch and rest."
Both of them knew that Willow's unease was palpable. The younger woman exited the kitchen and plopped down on the couch, somewhat nauseous.
After a moment, Anne bustled into the room. Snatching her purse off of the coffee table and making a beeline for the door, she announced, "Well, I'm off! See you in a little bit!"
The door shut before Willow could even lift her head.


George's eyes trailed after John as the older man paced furiously back and forth across the room. Paul and Ringo were gazing at each other anxiously. "Where the bloody hell could she be?" John growled, coming to an abrupt halt.
Paul suggested tentatively, "Maybe her old house?"
"No, no, she knows I know where that is. I checked."
Ringo inquired, "You don't think she left England, do you?"
"No," John hissed vehemently. "She couldn't have left."
The other three glanced at each other. Yes, there was a possibility of that, but since John refused to accept it, they silently agreed not to bring it up anymore.
Paul sighed and flipped through his newspaper. "I can't believe the press has already printed an article on it!" he exclaimed.
John had the paper in his hands almost immediately. His eyes darted from left to right, scanning the page meticulously. "Bloody hell! Where in their sick minds did they make this up?! It's completely untrue!" He curled his lip in anger. "We did not 'get into a fight', and I did not 'constantly abuse' her!"
"We all know that, John," George said sagely.
"Well, now the entire bleedin' world thinks otherwise! They don't give a rat's ass about the truth!" John fumed.
"George is right, John," Paul murmured patiently. "None of this matters, so long as we find Willow."
John slumped down into a chair, all of his bravado gone. "Why did she 'ave to go?" he whimpered. "She's gone, and my life's ruined."
"You tell us," Ringo said. "Why did she go?"
"I dunno, somethin' about me marryin' her out of my own free will or whatever."
"I think it's a pride thing, y'know?" Paul interjected. "Us blokes may think it's stupid, but to girls, it's a big deal. Plus she might just be worried about the baby."
"But why?" John demanded, sounding - and acting - like a child throwing a tantrum. "I wouldn't be that bad a father, would I?"
Paul stared at his friend for a long moment before answering hesitantly, "Well… you're not exactly… fatherly."
"Still!" John sulked. "You think I don't know that? But doesn't she know that I would try to be a good father? For her?" He paused, then added dejectedly, "Or does she really not have any faith in me?"
"Like I said, it's a pride thing. Just give her some time and she'll come back."
"I don't wanna 'give it some time'!" John mewled. "I want her back now!"
George sighed. "Don't act like a little kid, John. It's not gettin' us anywhere."
"Shut yer gob!" John snapped, knowing full-well that his friend was right.
Ringo shook his head and said quietly, "I'm goin' for a walk." He retrieved his overcoat and left, not waiting for a response.


Anne carefully placed another apple in her bag. "There!" she said to herself approvingly. Now she could finally make that apple pie. She meandered over to a small café nearby and bought herself a sandwich, cup of coffee, and a newspaper.
Taking a small sip from her cup, she perused the newspaper absently, reading little tidbits of news as she skimmed through it. One article suddenly caught her eye. Her eyes widened as she read it. "Unbelievable!" she whispered to herself. Forgetting her lunch, she darted out of the café, one thought on her mind.


Ringo kicked a rock down the street as he walked, staring down at the ground. Why did his friends have to be so uptight about Willow's disappearance? In his mind, though he had talked to Willow the least out of the four of them, he was certain that she wasn't just one to abandon her family, friends, and boyfriend like that. Surely she'll come back, like Paul said. He didn't know what to do now, though. He felt utterly useless, unable to do anything about it. He didn't know Willow very well, for one thing, and he had no idea where she could be.
He heaved a sigh, wishing that she would just come home, sparing all of them grief and pain. Ah, Willow. If only you knew how much John loves you. Ringo just didn't understand. What had led Willow to doubt John in the first place? "It's a pride thing." He didn't get that either. Did girls always make such a big deal about these kinds of things?
His pondering was interrupted when someone called, "Excuse me! Sir!"
Ringo turned his head, and spotted an elderly lady running towards him. "'Ello, ma'am," he greeted her, dipping his head.
"You're Ringo Starr?" the lady asked breathlessly.
"Sure am. Is there something I can do for you? An autograph, or -"
"No, no, none of that. I read an article in the newspaper about a little dilemma that your friend John is going through, and I think I might be able to help."
Ringo's droopy eyes widened. Did this woman know where Willow was? "How so?" he queried cautiously.
"I'm Anne. I've been taking care of Willow, the girl mentioned in the paper, for the past week. She's at my home at the moment, safe and sound, but she's awfully depressed and homesick. I want to tell her to go home, back to her boyfriend, though I never imagined it was John Lennon, but I didn't because I was afraid it would make her angry. I've just been improvising, so when I saw it in the paper, I had to go and find you -"
"Um, ma'am?" Ringo interrupted politely. "That's a good explanation. I get it now. So Willow's at your house right now?"
"Yes, yes she is."
"Then we need to go and get her." Ringo grabbed Anne's hand, and the two of them raced down the street.