Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Read online

  “So what was the point of all those little girls dropping flowers everywhere? I mean, it was pretty, and outside it might have been neat if they had dropped enough to make kind of a carpet to walk on.”

  “Well,” he explained feeling entirely out of his element. “I think that’s the point of it. It’s a symbolic carpet.”

  “But why all the walking and everything?”

  “It’s just what you do—”

  “No!” Willow argued. In a quieter voice, she tried again. “I’m not going to do this, Chad. I need a reason to do something. I can’t just have a bunch of things that don’t mean anything to me. What kind of wedding memory is that?”

  Chad nodded, trying to understand and be sympathetic. “Can you do things that don’t mean anything to you if they mean something to me?” His voice broke. “I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but if we just do away with everything that means something to my family, you’re putting me in a very awkward one.”

  “So petal girls?”

  “Flower girls. One at least, yes, and a ring bearer. My mother would be heartbroken not to have pictures of two adorable children involved in our wedding.”

  “I have to walk up or down—” she swallowed hard. “Like Aggie—by myself?”

  “No. I’ll walk you up the aisle, Willow. I won’t make you walk it alone.”

  Tears of frustration splashed against her cheeks before she wiped them away impatiently. “I just don’t understand why we need the aisle in the first place!”

  Chad, in what was becoming a very familiar move, pulled Willow to him and sat with his arm draped across her shoulder, and her hand in his. “Describe your dream wedding day.” She glanced up at him, prompted him to add, “One that involves a celebration of some kind.”

  “Very funny. Ok, well,” Willow pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head on Chad’s chest as she described a day that he never would have imagined. “I think people would arrive around ten o’clock in the morning. We’d have games for the children—you know, gunny sack races, eggs on spoons, a May-pole maybe—things to keep them occupied.”

  Willow spoke of people dancing, talking, and Wes Hartfield snapping pictures of everything. “It sounds like a wonderful reception, Willow. I don’t understand what the problem is. The children’s things alone are a great idea.”

  “We’d have a quiet lunch outside, eat cake… I loved that big cake today—so pretty and it tasted wonderful—and then we’d all walk up to Mother’s grave; the preacher would give us our vows, we’d thank everyone for coming, and then they’d go home.”

  A hush fell between them as Chad pondered Willow’s words. Torn between the appeal that a simple celebration such as she’d described afforded, and knowing that they had more people than themselves to consider, he prayed. His hand toyed with her hair as Willow shifted slightly to be more comfortable.

  “I think your day sounds wonderful, Willow. It’s unusual, and it’s not really unreasonable but—”

  “But you want traditional,” she interjected dejectedly.

  “No. I want us to have what we want, and I just want you to be happy, but we’re not the only ones invested in this wedding. I say we do what we want as long as we don’t hurt family in the process.”

  “Agreed.”

  He twirled the ring on her finger as they sat and listened to the wood crackling in the stove. Willow sighed. “I can’t believe you brought that with us.”

  “I wanted you to wear it home.”

  “You couldn’t wait half an hour?”

  “No. I couldn’t,” he teased as he squeezed her hand. “A guy has a right to want his ring on his girl’s hand. Sue me.”

  The way Chad said “his girl’s hand” sent a wave of something unfamiliar over her. The gentle possessiveness in his tone peeled away another thin layer of loneliness from her. She truly wasn’t alone anymore. While it may have been true for some time, she now felt a hint of the old familiar feeling of belonging that had disappeared last May.

  Willow stood, knowing she needed her sleep. Aggie’s children were coming on Monday and there still was much to do. Still feeling the wonder of belonging again, Willow kissed Chad’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  She shrugged. “It’s too hard to explain, but thank you.”

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  The scent of sausage and coffee wafted up the stairs and into Willow’s room. Her eyes blinked open as she realized she wasn’t dreaming, and the scent was truly coming from downstairs. She flung the covers back, grabbed her robe, and hurried downstairs.

  “What—”

  “You make me breakfast—ok, and lunch and dinner too—all the time. It was my turn. I can’t cook much, but I can fry sausage and scramble eggs.”

  With a smile of thanks, Willow turned to hurry upstairs. “I’ll just run up and change and go feed the animals then.”

  “Already did.”

  “What?” Turning slowly, she returned to Chad’s side and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you!”

  “Hey, if I knew you’d be this grateful, I would have done this a long time ago.”

  She snitched a piece of cooked sausage and shook her head at him. “A long time ago, you didn’t want to come here, remember?” With an impish grin, Willow snatched another piece of sausage. “I think I’ll go change.”

  “You will not.” Chad thrust a plate full of eggs and sausage into her hands as he pointed to the table. “Eat while it’s hot.”

  “In my pajamas?” Her protest sounded weak, muffled as it was by a mouthful of eggs.

  “It’s too cold to go without them. Sorry.” His grin caught her off guard.

  “Chad!” She eyed him curiously. “I’d say you’re flirting with me—again.”

  “I’d say I have that right.”

  Her eyes widened briefly. “Did Libby say what time they were coming?”

  “Someone changed the subject awfully fast. Coffee?”

  “Ew. No thanks.” Her glare was the least menacing glare Chad had ever seen. “Libby? Children?”

  “Sometime after lunch.”

  Plate empty, Willow stuck her feet in her boots, grabbed her heavy coat, and hurried out front. Chad, plate in hand, stood at the living room window, watching fascinated as Willow carried a ridiculously long garden hose from beneath the steps all the way down the hill from the house into a slight valley to one side of the house. His forehead furrowed in confusion as she trudged back to the house, turned on the spigot, and hurried inside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ice skating! I have all of my old skates. Surely we can find a pair to fit them.”

  Pulling off her coat and boots, she handed them to Chad and hurried upstairs. Breakfast in a robe might be comfortable, but she had work to do and didn’t intend on lounging around in her pajamas while she could be working. Within minutes she was dressed in jeans and a sweater, had her hair braided and out of the way, teeth were brushed, and her face washed.

  As she left the bathroom, Chad met her at the top of the stairs, carrying an air mattress and foot pump. “I thought you might want to make up Ellie’s bed before—”

  “Oh good! Bring it in here.”

  The door to the spare bedroom was open, leaving the room reasonably warm. Chad started pumping the mattress, but Willow shooed him out of the room. “I’ll do this; can you go up into the attic and bring down my dollhouse? I’m going to set it up between those windows on—” she hesitated. “Well, that little table up there.”

  “What table?”

  Willow explained where the table was and what it looked like. By the time Chad returned with it, the mattress was pumped and ready to make up for Ellie’s arrival. “I think I want some bricks and those two old doors mother has out in the barn.”

  “Why?”

  “How can Ellie possibly make the bed properly with it sitting smack dab on the floor? Besides, it’s too cold down here. I should have bought a
bed for her.”

  “Smack dab?” Chad shook his head as he left the room to retrieve the dollhouse. Only Willow would think of buying a bed for a two-week guest stay.

  He found her in the guest room deflating the mattress and talking to his mother. “What?” he mouthed as she waved her hand at him, silencing his questions.

  “Thanks, Marianne. I knew you’d remember which one I meant. Just let me know when you find it, and I’ll send Chad.”

  Nothing they’d said or done until this point felt more ‘married’ than hearing his fiancée making plans for him—without consulting him. Though slightly annoying, it also amused him. “Do I get a say in this?”

  “Nope. Bringing them out here was your idea; now you can go get her a decent bed… when your mother finds it.”

  “What if I had to work?”

  “But you don’t. Not until ten tonight. You told me that last night when I tried to make you go home early, using your need for sleep as an excuse. Remember?”

  Chad threw up his hands. “Uncle! I’ll go. Actually, I’ll go now so that I can get back as quickly as possible.” Just outside the door, he turned back and said, “I like what you’ve done in here, by the way. It always seemed like the poor relation. Sent to the back of the house and forgotten.”

  “I’ll work on your room once the children are gone,” she promised.

  “My room?” He hadn’t imagined her changing anything in her mother’s room. “Why?”

  “Well, I assumed you’d rather have something that suits you rather than my mother.”

  Willow tried to hide the pain her words caused her, but her slightly pursed lips and the way she refused to meet his eyes told him more than she’d intended to share. Chad started to reassure her that he liked the room exactly the way it was, but she pushed past him and strolled down the hall. “If you’ll just take a look and see what color you’d prefer—”

  “I’d rather,” he said as he followed, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Leave it just as it is. It’s cheerful, not prissy, and—” he added quietly into her ear. “I’m not ready to see your mother’s room dismantled that way. If I’m not—”

  Willow whirled and buried her face in Chad’s chest, weeping. “Shh—I thought you’d been handling things a little too well lately,” Chad said, as he smoothed her hair and held her. The tears eventually soaked his shirtfront, but she couldn’t seem to control her emotions. “Hey, when was the last time you broke some dishes?”

  A faint giggle escaped from the folds of his sweatshirt breaking up the sobs and sniffles for a moment. “Too long, I guess,” she confessed.

  “Well why haven’t you?”

  “It felt—” she confessed, trying to find the right words. “Felt like I should be strong enough now to admit my loss and move on. I can’t fall apart forever. Mother would be horribly ashamed of the way I—” Willow stopped mid-sentence. He suspected that she didn’t know he knew of the late night sob fests and the nightmares, and Chad wasn’t going to enlighten her—not yet.

  “Well, I think we all handle grief differently, and if crying or breaking dishes helps, I’ll go buy you some more dishes and invest in Kleenex.”

  “Kleenex?”

  “The boxes of tissue that Mom has all over her house and eventually will be all over this one?” She started to protest, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Willow, but I’m not giving up Kleenex. You can keep the lights off, burn the wood, we’ll forget TV and the Internet for all I care, but I’m not giving up real toilet paper—”

  “I use toilet paper! Sometimes I even blow my nose with it!” she protested hotly.

  “And I’m not giving up my lotion-infused, super soft Kleenex. Period.”

  Willow, after realizing that she was still curled against Chad’s chest and feeling a little self-conscious about it, tried to pull away and send him to Rockland, but Chad held fast. “Huh uh. Not until I know you’re ok and until you promise to smash a few more dishes.”

  How long they stood there, neither of them knew. Chad smoothed her hair, wiped her tears, and prayed silently for comfort and healing. Eventually, Willow’s voice, smaller than he’d ever heard it, asked, “Chad, do you ever pray for me?”

  “More than anyone or anything else,” he reassured her. “In fact, I was just now.”

  “Would you—” The strangled tone of her voice nearly killed him, but he waited for her to finish. “Would you maybe, someday, pray with me?”

  “Aww, Willow, I’d have done it anytime. I just never knew how you felt about it.” He held her tighter. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  Fresh tears spilled from her eyes, and her hands dug for a handkerchief. “See, these are better than your old Kleenex.”

  “Why is that?”

  She grinned as she wiped her tears away and blew the sniffles from her nose. “I didn’t have to move away to go get them.”

  Stepping outside the door, Willow glanced at the sky. Noon was still a way off. Eagerly, she skipped back inside the barn, giggled at the sight of her confused animals, grabbed another dish, and threw it to the bottom of the barrel with every ounce of strength she had. Oh, she’d missed the glorious sound of breaking glass and ringing metal. Nothing made her feel more alive and normal than those rare times she’d spent destroying perfectly good dishes to rid herself of the angst that came with her loss.

  Once finished, Willow replaced the unbroken dishes, rolled the barrel out of the center of the floor, and hurried inside the house. She hoped that Chad would return quickly, and if he did, he’d be hungry. She pounded beefsteak to a thin flat layer and returned it to the icebox. They’d have pizza. Chad liked pizza.

  Upstairs, she covered the old green table with a small tablecloth and set the dollhouse on it. Their spare down comforter, quilted duvet, and several wool afghans were piled in the corner of the room waiting for Chad to return with Ellie’s bed. Remembering her dollhouse people, she hurried to find them and bring them “home.”

  While in the attic, Willow dug through her “outside toys” and found her old sled. She’d wondered what she might have that Tavish might enjoy; surely, boys liked sleds. The sight of the pulley from her old zip line was all she needed to feel more confident. No child could resist a zip line; she was sure of it.

  When Chad pulled into her driveway just after twelve o’clock, Willow seemed to have disappeared. Chad looked everywhere but didn’t find her. The water was still on to the “rink,” and since it looked sufficiently flooded to him, he shut it off. Footprints led away from the chicken coop, through the pasture, and finally, as he reached the stream, he saw Willow flying through the air.

  “Move!”

  Chad jumped out of the way just in time for Willow to whiz past and drop into the snow several feet from the tree. “What are you doing?”

  “Zipping! I found it when I was looking for my sled. I thought Tavish might enjoy it—”

  The words were hardly out of her mouth before Chad grabbed the zip pulley, raced across the stream, uphill to the tall pine, and climbed up the rungs she’d nailed into the trunk of the tree. “Geronimo!”

  “Squanto!” Willow hollered back as he whizzed past, almost forgetting to let go before he slammed into the tree. “I’ll have to remind the children not to forget to let go.”

  “That was fun!” Chad started to grab the pulley again, but the sound of a horn stopped him. “I think Aunt Libby’s here!”

  They gathered Willow’s tools and, hand in hand, tromped through the snow to meet Chad’s aunt and the children. They rounded the corner of the house as the kids climbed from Aggie’s van. “Libby! I’m glad you made it in time for lunch!”

  “We ate already, but thanks. Ian is getting grumpy, so I won’t get to stay as long as I’d like.”

  Chad helped Laird, Elspeth, and Tavish to unload their suitcases and schoolbooks and carried them inside. Vannie tried to interest the baby in the snow, but Ian just wailed louder. “Let’s go inside,” Willow urged. He is pro
bably cold.”

  Ellie dashed down the stairs excitedly. “Uncle Chad bought me a new bed for while I’m here!”

  Chad’s voice called after her, “No, I just picked it up. Willow bought it.”

  “Oh thank you Wi—what do I call you?”

  “Willow.”

  Wide-eyed, Ellie looked to Libby for guidance. “I can’t just call her Willow. Mommy—”

  “Why don’t you just call her Aunt Willow honey,” Libby suggested. “She’ll be your cousin soon enough, but she’s more like an Aunt in age.”

  “Oh that’s right!” the child exclaimed excitedly. “I forgot about that. This is so exciting.” To Chad, she turned and begged to go see the bed in the back of his pickup.

  Willow’s mind spun wildly with all of the information Libby fired at her. She had a list of phone numbers longer than her cell phone address book, a list of school assignments, and suggestions for if Tavish “disappeared.”

  “Of course, Aggie understands if it’s too much trouble to keep them on target with their schoolwork, but she thought it also might help keep them occupied.”

  “How do I know if they’re doing it right?”

  “It’s all in the folder. It’s pretty self-explanatory,” Libby assured her. A fresh wail went up from Ian, sending Libby digging for her keys. “I’ve got to get him home. We’ll stop by sometime this weekend, if that’s ok. I thought Vannie would enjoy visiting someone every few days.”

  “Sure. Anytime.” Willow suddenly felt a little panicked at the idea of being alone with the children, but the sound of Chad’s voice coming up the steps with Ellie relieved her. The children would be in bed before he left for work. It’d be ok. They were just children. How much trouble could children be?

  Just as she calmed herself, Libby quipped, “Oh, and if you have any trouble with them, just call and I’ll walk you through tanning their hides or an equally horrifying consequence for their hideous behavior.”

  After they waved Libby, Vannie, and Ian down the driveway, Willow brought the three children into the living room and sat them on the couch. “Now, I want you to know that I’m really glad you’re here. I think we’ll have a lot of fun together in the next two weeks, but there’s something you should know.” Chad made throat-slitting motions from the doorway as he tried to stop her from confessing her vulnerability. “I don’t know anything about children. I’ve never been around children, and from what Chad—” The crew on the couch looked at him strangely as he swiftly scratched his neck and cleared his throat. “… says, I probably wasn’t a very normal child.”