Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Page 16

  “Ok. If you’re sure. I think it’d relieve Willow quite a bit. The school work is stressing her out.”

  “I noticed. Ellie said she never went to school.”

  “She didn’t.”

  Laird spoke to Willow asking for Tavish, but the children were out feeding the animals. After making his suggestion, Laird returned to the previous discussion. “So if she homeschooled—”

  “I don’t think what they did could be called homeschooling—” Chad didn’t quite know how to explain things. “Her mother made sure she taught Willow everything she needed to know. She learned more than I ever learned, but she never knew she was being ‘schooled.’ It was just part of living. I’ll show you Kari’s journals if you like. It’s really interesting if you want the truth.”

  “Think I can write my essay on that?”

  “What is the topic?”

  Laird grinned. “A topic of general interest to adults.”

  “Works for me.”

  Laird grabbed his bag as Chad pulled up to his apartment building. “This is your house!”

  “It’s a four apartment house. Come on. We’ll get you settled and then go find something for dinner. Does The Diner sound good?”

  “Cool.”

  Chad took that for a “sounds good” type approval and led Laird into his apartment. “Ok, you’ve got the air mattress over in the corner. Sorry, I’d give you my bed but um, some of us have to work, and we need our rest. Bathroom’s there, kitchen’s there. If you need anything from the store, just ask and I’ll bring it home. I got a prepaid cell phone for while you’re here. It only has one hundred minutes so no calling girlfriends—”

  “Uncle Chad! Ew.”

  “That’s my man. Now my laptop is in my room on the dresser. I own one movie, so you’ll probably get sick of it, but Hidalgo is in my top drawer if you want to watch something.”

  “Can I see where you work?” Laird’s attempt at nonchalance failed—miserably.

  “Sure. I go to work at six in the morning, and at eleven, I take over the beat. You can come down around one or so and walk with me until I’m off.”

  “Mom brought us here a couple of years ago for the Flag Day thing. The cop walking around was cool. Mom said she thought that’s why Fairbury doesn’t have the crime that Ferndale and Brunswick does.”

  Chad nodded as he grabbed jacket and hat. “Let’s walk and talk. I’m hungry.” Once outside, he added, “Well, those towns are also bigger. The more people you have, the more likely you’ll have trouble.”

  Chad passed Bookends and paused. “Hey wait. I want to run in and see if they got the copy of Narnia I ordered.”

  As he paid for the movie, Chad’s phone rang. He passed Laird the money, asked the boy to finish for him, and hurried outside. “What’s up, Willow?”

  “I got a letter for you from Mr. Solari.”

  “Open it.”

  Rustling paper was followed by a sigh. “‘Officer Tesdall, I am writing to request that you call regarding the meeting we discussed. I apologize for using Willow’s address; however, my phone was destroyed recently, and I lost all of my contacts. I assumed that you would not appreciate me using a search service to find you. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. Sincerely, Steve Solari.’“

  “I’ve got his card. I’ll call him now.”

  “Chad?” Willow’s voice held a trace of nervousness.

  “Hmm?”

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t be so hard-headed about things, but I’m not going to go to this meeting either. I just can’t.”

  “Good,” he agreed. “I didn’t want you to anyway, but that definitely fits into the understandable category. That isn’t borrowing trouble; it’s avoiding it. It’s called smart.”

  “Chad?” Her voice was lower and softer.

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re wonderful.” The phone clicked.

  “She must have said something good,” Laird teased, thrusting the bag with the movie in it into his hand. “Can I watch that one too? I never did get to see it. Mom wasn’t a big C.S. Lewis fan, so she never bought it, and Dad kept forgetting.—”

  “Sure. And you’re right, she did say something good.”

  As they walked the rest of the way to the diner, Laird talked freely. “I am not going to let myself get all goofy over a girl. I have enough sisters to know that it’s asking for trouble.”

  “I only had one sister, and I said the same thing until about nine months ago. Someday,” Chad warned teasingly, “one will get under your skin, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  At the diner, Chad sent Laird inside with his order. “I have a call to make.”

  “You just talked to her!”

  “Hey, don’t make assumptions, Laird. You’ll end up looking foolish. And I’m not calling her anyway. Get inside before you freeze. Oh, and remember, double pickles.”

  “Got it. Never heard of pickles on meatloaf. Sounds gross.”

  Chad dialed Solari’s number as he watched Laird climb up on the barstools. Of course, a kid would sit at the bar instead of in a nice comfy booth. He sighed. Chad hated barstools. “Mr. Solari? This is Chad Tesdall.”

  “You got my letter?”

  “You didn’t waste time rescheduling.”

  “I’m eager. Shoot me.”

  Chad’s chuckle was carefully calculated to disarm Solari. “You forget; I have a job that trained me to shoot.”

  “You’re not to be underestimated, Chad. I like that.”

  “Can you come to Fairbury on Friday around six o’clock? I get off at six on Friday. We can meet at The Daily Grind if you like.”

  “I was hoping to have a little more privacy than a coffee shop. Marcello’s has excellent food. You and Willow would be more comfortable at a restaurant, surely.”

  Chad’s tone changed instantaneously. “Mr. Solari, Willow has said that she has no interest in joining us. If you are simply meeting with me as a way to convince her to meet with you, you’re wasting both of our time and your money.”

  “I want to meet with you. Marcello’s would be more comfortable for me, if you don’t mind.”

  “Then make it seven o’clock. I have to change from work and drop off my nephew at Willow’s.”

  “I will hold a table for us. Thank you.”

  Chad still wasn’t quite sure why he was meeting with Solari. What the man hoped to accomplish, he couldn’t fathom. However, with the chief’s suspicions, he couldn’t refuse the invitation. A glance in the window showed Laird digging into a large hamburger. He had time for one more call.

  “Willow?”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “I talked to him. He’s still going to meet me. You’ll have Laird for dinner on Friday but not me.” Chad’s voice sounded more disappointed than he’d meant to convey.

  Willow sighed. “I’ll save the roast for Sunday.”

  “Well, I admit I was disappointed to miss a good roast, but I was more disappointed that I wouldn’t really get to see you Friday. Between work and Solari—”

  “Will you be done before the children go to bed?” Her tone sounded like she hoped he wouldn’t be.

  “Oh, Willow, you are very, very bad. I’ll be sure to be there after nine-thirty.”

  “Then Laird will just have to sleep here. Maybe you can bring a movie and your computer.”

  “What? You don’t want to watch North and South again? I could get Brad to loop that last scene about forty times…” Chad chuckled at her protests. “I have to go. My meatloaf is getting cold. I’ll bring Narnia.”

  “I’ll make ice cream and brownies.”

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  July 14, 1996

  I mentioned geometry today. I’m not sure how I managed to make it nearly twelve years without using the word, but I did. Willow went crazy with the idea of the math of shapes and promptly renounced her previous idea of photography and requested a geometry book for her birthday. I found a high school geometry
help book, and this evening she worked herself halfway through the first chapter—for fun. She’s fascinated.

  On a similar note, I have wondered if Willow should consider learning to write essays or research papers. I mean, we have no need for them in our life, which makes it seem crazy, but what if she needs to write something some day? I spent weeks trying to find a natural way to do it when she found an article in Mother Earth News that she took issue with, so she wrote a letter to the editor. That letter was as nearly an essay as any I ever wrote in school and better written. I asked how she’d write something requiring more research and her idea made a lot more sense than hundreds of index cards. She said she’d write every point or supporting idea as a single sentence as she thought of it or found it in a book and then organize them by topic with colored pencils highlighting each topic. When I asked about crediting sources for their work, she said, “That’d be at the end of every sentence I got from a source.”

  I think the funniest thing she said this week, though was when I asked her what she thought of plagiarism. She gave me the most disgusted look and said, “Plagiarism is the sign of an unimaginative mind.” Where does she get this stuff?

  Continuing on the academic vein, the other day I tossed a new CD saying, “Their caterwauling is obnoxious.” Willow immediately asked what caterwauling is, and somehow I managed to realize that in that sentence, it was a gerund so I said, “A gerund.” Voilá. My daughter now identifies gerunds in all sentences she possibly can. Or maybe I should state that as, “Identifying gerunds is her new hobby.”

  On a lesser note, we’ve had a bumper crop of tomato worms this year, and I’m worried about the effect on our winter stores of tomatoes. Unfortunately, I think we’ll be rationing ourselves. Oh, and no end-of-summer fried green tomatoes. That just stinks.

  Laird reread the various marked passages of Kari’s journals looking for references for his essay. The week had already flown past. Though he’d never admit it, his time at Willow’s was much more fun and interesting than sitting around in Chad’s apartment or walking up and down the streets looking for hardened criminals like Aiden Cox.

  At the farm, Tavish spent hours hiding in the loft of the barn, reading books, playing with the cats, and trying to train the chickens to peck “the wave.” While fun and hilarious for Willow and Ellie to watch, their inadequate brain size, cold temperatures, or possibly the lack of experience in chicken training left the chickens fat and happy, but looking more like a heart monitor than the wave. Undaunted, he moved onto fresh territory. What better idea than to teach chickens the chicken dance?

  Ellie, on the other hand, slowly developed an endearing infatuation with Willow and her life. As each hour passed, she blossomed in ways her family would never have imagined. She learned to milk goats, to make candles, and began her own first journal “Finley fashion.” They spent hours working on invitations, and once she washed each invitation with a soft yellow, Ellie took over the construction of envelopes.

  As they worked, they talked. Willow told about her “world of Narnia” and promised to share it with her. Ellie flourished under Willow’s no-nonsense approach to interacting. The way she treated the children like small adults rather than children—letting them try anything with just basic instructions—brought out a maturity that many had seen in Ellie but had never been able to cultivate.

  Wednesday and Thursday disappeared in a blur. Friday, Laird got permission to walk to the farm, and Chad found him giving similar instructions to those that Kari always had. “Stay way off to the side of the road, if a car slows down, run, and keep your cell phone ready in case you need help.”

  Laird arrived at the farm in time for lunch, and by the time he’d eaten, he was ready to take on a project. Willow set Ellie working on envelopes and hurried outside with Laird. After instruction on how to find the best branches and a quick lesson in saw safety, he took off into the woods to start a collection of tree blocks for his little sisters.

  An hour before dinner, Willow challenged everyone to a game of stick hockey. As they flew across the ice, their muscles burned and stretched and more than a few bruises surfaced as the rock they used for a puck flew into shins, thighs, and torsos. Gasping and panting, they tramped into the kitchen for bean soup, hot biscuits, and stewed tomatoes. Ellie was in heaven; Laird missed the pizza fests at Chad’s apartment.

  The maître d’ escorted Chad to the finest table where Steve Solari waited, seething. She had not come. The younger man stared at a couple ice skating on the local rink and sighed. So, perhaps he wished her to be there as well. “That’s a mournful sound Mr. Tesdall.”

  “Was it? I didn’t realize I’d made one. And call me Chad. I feel like I’m on duty with the mister stuff.”

  “I’ve ordered a bottle of—”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer a Coke. I don’t drive after any amount of alcohol, and walking to Willow’s seems like a bad idea tonight. It’s going to go below zero.”

  “Ever the officer,” Solari teased, signaling for the server.

  “Pardon if I’m too direct, but exactly why did you want to meet?”

  “Well, if you remember, you suggested it.”

  Chad nodded. “I also remember you requesting your wife’s presence.”

  A look of genuine pain flashed across Solari’s face before he rearranged his features into the casually friendly face he generally wore. “I suggested that Lynne stay behind this first time. I confess,” he said as he sipped at his wine and tried to assess the man before him, “I am hoping to convince you to encourage Willow to give us a chance. We, with all of our faults, are not our son.”

  “Mr. Solari,” Chad began carefully.

  “If I am to call you Chad, please use my name as well. Most people call me Steve, but Lynne likes Steven when she thinks it’ll make me take her more seriously.”

  Chuckling, Chad said, “That sounds like Willow.”

  “I see many similarities between them. Willow is thinner—shaped differently than Lynne but—” he paused adding discretion. “There is some of her physique in Willow too.”

  With a cocked eyebrow, Chad accepted his Coke and took a drink. “So, again, why are we here?”

  “I want a relationship with my granddaughter.”

  “You can’t demand one. I know you’re used to getting pretty much whatever you want, but you can’t force relationships.”

  Solari leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and sipped his wine while appraising Chad. “You’re right,” he began. He’d have to work this carefully. “I tend to see what I want and find a way to get it. Most people can be bought until genuine loyalty follows. Willow cannot.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  The men verbally circled each other like dogs before a fight. Their words, void of anything superfluous, were like the snaps and snarls that follow the initial growls of warning. Suddenly, Solari in a calculated move whimpered and rolled on his belly.

  “Chad, like it or not, we will be family someday. You’re going to marry her. She can refuse a relationship, deny genetics, but it doesn’t change the facts. I wish my son had been the kind of man who would see Kari Finley for the fine woman she obviously was and had married her. I failed in many ways—as a man, a father, and an example. But the one thing I did right was show my son how to treat a woman.”

  An unreadable expression crossed the cop’s face. “I just realized that I can’t wish that he’d married her.”

  “You would never have met Willow.”

  “Worse than that,” Chad admitted, “Willow, even if conceived on the same day as the same exact combination of DNA, would not be the Willow I know.”

  Steven Solari smiled—the same smile that he knew others feared more than his wrath. “And that is exactly why I have to wish he did.”

  “You don’t like me.”

  “I don’t like the influence you have over her,” Steve countered.

  Their meals arrived. Based upon the young man’s eyes, his choic
e of prime rib and shrimp scampi for the younger man was perfect. As Chad cut his first bite, he said, “You over-estimate my influence, sir. Willow Finley is her own person who is influenced primarily by the memory of her mother and by her understanding of the Bible.”

  Sir—an excellent beginning. He had already inspired natural courtesy and deference. Excellent. Steve chewed his fish savoring the excellent flavor, careful cooking, and delicate seasonings. It was better than any salmon he’d eaten in the city. “I can’t decide if that, should it be true, is good or bad.”

  “Steve, I have to tell you. I am your best shot at any hope of a relationship with Willow, and the way you talk about her does nothing to inspire a feeling of sympathy for you.”

  “Then how do I win you as a friend and influence you as a person?”

  Laughing, Chad shook his head. “Leave Carnegie at home for starters.”

  “Touché. May I ask a personal question?” It took considerable self-control for Steve to keep his tone light and sincere.

  “You can ask anything you like as long as you don’t insult Willow, but I don’t promise to answer it.”

  Steve hesitated. “When are you getting married?”

  “May.”

  “Will you accept a wedding gift from us?”

  “Can you give it without strings attached?” Chad challenged.

  “I confess, I was hoping for an invitation to the wedding but would want to send the gift either way.”

  The younger man sighed. “Steve, I have to be realistic and therefore frank with you. There is no way we can invite you to this wedding. It would be cruel to Willow’s extended family.”

  “She has no relationship with those people. Why should their preferences be considered over mine.”

  “Because they,” Chad replied sounding ready to lose his patience, “lost fellowship with their daughter because of you. I cannot expect them to ‘break bread at our table’ with the man responsible for driving away their daughter.”

  “I did no such thing.” Solari failed to keep the coldness from his tone.