Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Read online

  Unaware that their lives were rewritten even as they spoke, Chad and Willow ignored Jake as she readied her next bowl. “I guess you arriving means you found my note. Good.”

  “How are you doing?” Chad glanced at the scores displayed and shook his head. “You’re staying over fifty—”

  “I got a strike once, but I didn’t get credit for it.”

  “Why not!”

  She glanced at him sheepishly. “Well, I sort of got it in that lane instead of this one.”

  “What? How on earth—only you…” Chad watched for a moment before saying, “Be right back. I’ll get me some shoes.”

  “But I’m tired. I need food.”

  The sight of Willow nearly pouting tickled him. “You’re tired and want to eat. How many games have you played?”

  “I don’t know. I just kept playing until you got here.”

  Chad pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. “It’s six o’clock, Willow. What if I hadn’t come? Would you have stayed until midnight when they closed?”

  “Of course not. I was leaving after seven—I meant to at six, but I didn’t want to go until I did better... I wanted to be home before midnight.”

  He shook his head. “You are seriously insane. Certifiably crackers, as my grandma would say.” Waving at the lane, he urged, “Throw the ball. If you want to eat, you have to finish the game.”

  “I swore I’d get a strike today though,” she hesitated.

  “Well, you did. You didn’t get credit,” every ounce of strength held his chuckle at bay, “But you did it and that’s what counts.”

  “Right. Can you pay for me? My card’s in my tote bag—actually, there’s a card in there with your name on it too. Bill sent it and there’s a letter. Might as well use yours.”

  Confused, Chad opened her tote bag, feeling quite uncomfortable rifling through her personal things, found the envelope, and withdrew it quickly. Anything to get out of the equivalent of her purse. His mother had been adamant about no one ever opening her purse. Period.

  The letter was brief and showed him, yet again, why Kari had trusted Bill Franklin with the management of her finances.

  Willow,

  I realized that with all of the wedding preparations, expenses, and possible travel for a honeymoon, that Chad might need access to your accounts now rather than later. Therefore, I’ve added him to your credit account and have ordered a card, which I’ve enclosed. If you’d rather not do this, return it to me, and I’ll remove his name until after the wedding.

  You will need to take care of name changes, if you do that, as soon as possible. It’s a hassle, so having Chad on the account before the wedding will really make it smoother for one of you to have access with I.D.

  Hoping your plans are going well. I’ll be there, on time, and if there is anything I can or should do, please let Mari or me know.

  Always,

  Bill

  The VISA card felt heavy in Chad’s hand. Money. It wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to consider, but she had money. Lots of it—much more than he’d ever earn. She didn’t live like it, act like it, or even realize it, and that had made it a non-issue. Until now.

  “I’m ready! Look, I got a nine! I just missed that center one somehow both times. How do you get all but the center pin?”

  Chad smiled weakly at her. “Only you, Willow. Only you,” he repeated again. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Let’s just go.”

  Instead of leaving to pay for her shoes and games, Chad waited as she changed into her own shoes, gathered her things, and followed him to the other side of the alley. Jake stood at the counter as Willow returned the shoes, the laces tied into perfect bows. She pulled out her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Eighty-nine dollars.”

  “What!” The cop stared at Jake as if he’d gone insane—or at least was a criminal.

  Jake nodded. “Twenty-one games at four bucks a game is eighty-four dollars. Five dollars for shoe rental. Eighty-nine.”

  “How did you play twenty-one games?” Chad’s indignant voice reached the other side of the alley, where several early birds practiced for their league.

  “Easy!” Her voice, on the other hand, was nearly full of gloating. “Two balls. Half-way through, I figured out that if I had two of the same ball, I didn’t have to wait for it to come back. Much faster.”

  Chad stared at Jake as he counted Willow’s money. “I have the next thirty to sixty years to figure this woman out, and you know what?”

  Jake shook his head.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be long enough. Either that, or she’ll be the death of me.”

  “She your fiancée?” She had to be, but Jake couldn’t resist asking.

  “Yep. Best thing that ever happened to me.” Chad grinned at her.

  “I had you pegged for brother and sister.”

  “That too!” Willow quipped. She waved her fingers at the men and backed toward the restrooms again. “I need to wash my hands. They get so dirty!”

  “She doesn’t really mean—” Jake began, as though compelled to ask.

  “No! Oh no. We’ve just been such good friends for so long. And well, we’re Christians too so there’s the whole brothers and sisters in Christ thing. She’s been a little sheltered so sometimes she says things that only make sense in her world.”

  “I figured it was something like that. None of my business anyway.” He hesitated. “She is different though, isn’t she? It wasn’t just my imagination.”

  “Willow is different. Very different.”

  “You’re a lucky guy.”

  Willow pushed through the bathroom door at that moment. One glance at her and Chad said, “I am one immensely blessed man.”

  He nodded at Jake, took Willow’s hand, and led her through the building to the side door closest to her bicycle. As they strolled outside, Jake saw Chad tug Willow’s braid, teasing her about something, and then he hefted an old-fashioned bicycle into the back of a pick-up. She waited, slightly impatiently, it seemed to Jake, for him to finish. Once the bike was settled in back, Chad opened the door for her. Yeah. A girl like that should have doors opened.

  A new thought flashed in Jake’s mind as he watched the scene unfold. Next girl I take out, I’m opening her door for her.

  Willow smiled at Chad as he helped her into the truck. Just as Jake thought he might see a glimmer of something else, the floodlight shining on the scene burned out, leaving Jake literally in the dark regarding the status of what kind of relationship they truly shared. Frustrated, he returned to disinfecting rental shoes. League bowling in less than an hour now—and still more lanes to clean.

  He sighed. League bowlers were more predictable than Willow. He’d seen them a million times. He knew their stories inside and out. This couple was different. Jake loved people. He loved to watch them, see what made them connect, and even what tore them apart. What this couple had was something he’d never seen, and he wanted more.

  Jake’s mind replayed that last smile and shook his head. “Wow.”

  “Something is bothering you.”

  Lost in thought, Chad nodded and gave her a non-committal shrug. “Sounds interesting.”

  His blatant departure into another time and place amused her. Mother had done that quite regularly, and until now, Willow had forgotten how enjoyable it was to see another side of someone when they didn’t realize they were showing it. She’d never noticed how a crease formed between his eyebrows when he was thinking.

  Chad’s head jerked up and he met her eyes. “Did you say something?”

  “I said,” she responded with studied patience, “that something is bothering you.”

  “Not really, it’s just—”

  “That something is bothering you.”

  Chad smiled at her. “Ok, ok. I guess you could say it that way. I just keep forgetting about your money.”

&nbs
p; “Money?” Money wasn’t something Willow thought of very often. After the first, she’d even ignored the quarterly statements Bill sent faithfully. “What about it?”

  “You have it. Lots of it. I forget that.”

  “Good. So do I. Who cares?”

  “Who cares?” He set his fork down and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking quite uncomfortable in her estimation. “I know you don’t care about it all and usually that’s fine, but Willow, your lifestyle exists because of that money.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “I know you don’t, but I do. I understand it, and it’s hard for me.”

  His admission confused Willow more than ever. “Why is it hard for you?”

  Pain-filled eyes met hers. “I don’t know how to explain without sounding like a jerk.”

  “So sound like a jerk. Doesn’t make you one.”

  That brought a small smile to his lips—brief as it was. “I don’t know how to tell my fiancée that I resent her disproportionate contribution to the family coffers.”

  “Huh?”

  “I hate this. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve never imagined a marriage where there were separate accounts, but I also can’t imagine this marriage with access to this kind of money.” Chad flicked the credit card Bill had sent across the table.

  “This is about the card?” Willow picked it up and glared at it.

  “This is about what the card represents. It represents more money than I’ll make in my lifetime.”

  She shook her head, frustrated. “No, no. If you make fifty thousand a year for forty years, that’s two million dollars. I have around that much now, so that just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Argh. Willow, you can do the simple math, but it doesn’t explain how that math applies in the real scheme of things. While I’m making my much-less-than-fifty-thousand-a-year, your money grows—the beauty of compound interest.” He winced and slammed his fist on the table, rattling plates and sending a few nervous glances their way. “Sorry.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you don’t. It’s something I forget about and then kick myself over.”

  Willow watched the agony ripple over his features for a minute or two before she finally threw her hands up in the air. “I’ve got it. It’s simple. Your dad earns the money; your mom keeps your house right?”

  “Yes.” He flicked a piece of lettuce across the table. “It sounds like it was ripped from the pages of Good Housekeeping in the fifties, but it’s what I know; it’s what I’m comfortable with. I could take a job—or you earning money with the gardens and animals and stuff—Boho. I’m good with Boho. It’s just—”

  “Exactly what I mean. If the money is an issue, then I have the solution.”

  A wary look crossed his face. “What?”

  “I’ll give Bill the accounts. You earn the money. I work the farm. We live what you’re used to. Everything’s fine.”

  “You can’t do that, Willow. I need to know you are provided for if something happens to me.”

  “So we get insurance like Mother had. We buy that insurance with the money first. That should work.” Willow felt utterly brilliant. “It can’t be a problem for you because we can’t touch it unless you’re dead.” She frowned. “That didn’t sound right, but you know what I mean. Oh, and while I’m at it, you’re not allowed to die, so it’ll be a big waste of the money, but who cares?”

  That made him chuckle. Chad squeezed her hand before shoving his hands back in his pocket again. “I don’t know how to make you understand, lass. Bill can’t just accept your accounts. It wouldn’t be ethical. Yes, you do need that money in case something happens. I’m a cop. Cops die sometimes.”

  “Then I hereby suggest you find a way to avoid that. Can we get full armor made out of your vest material?” She snickered. “Look, you work in Fairbury. I doubt you’re going to get killed in the line of keeping Aiden Cox off the streets without a helmet.”

  “We had that serial murderer not too long ago, and you had a stalker. It can happen again. Next time one of us—even me—could get hurt… or worse.”

  “Well, I’m not going to think about that,” she insisted dismissively. “We’ll just let the accounts do their thing and forget about them. We don’t need the money from them. Between what I grow and what you—” she paused searching for the right word, “protect, we’ll have plenty. The accounts can just grow, and we will ignore them.”

  “Look, it may be simple for you to set stuff aside and ignore it like some book you don’t care to read, but I can’t forget it that easily.”

  “Why not? I do. I have several unopened statements at home right now. It’s simple. File and forget.”

  Dessert arrived and Willow attacked it ravenously. “I’ve been so hungry for hours.”

  “They sell food at the alley.”

  “It smelled funny,” she complained, chagrined.

  “Funny how?”

  Willow shrugged. “There was a lot of oil and it smelled rancid. I wasn’t interested, but I drank a lot of water. It helped me not feel so hungry.”

  They ate in silence. Each moment ticked by as though there was nothing pressing on them, nothing bothering Chad, nothing confusing Willow. She watched as he struggled with things that she was sure she’d never understand and wondered why life outside the farm seemed so much more complicated.

  “Chad?”

  “Hmm?”

  Willow waited for him to raise his eyes to meet hers, showing that he was out of his reverie. “If you could choose the perfect scenario, what would it be?”

  “You mean financially?”

  She nodded, “Yeah.”

  Several long seconds—half a minute or more—passed as he thought about the question. She grew nervous, wondering what could be so complicated, but at last he asked, “Realistically?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d wish the money was never a consideration, but that’s not possible so I guess—” he shoved his spare hand into his pocket as he took a bite of his cheesecake. Chewing took every ounce of his concentration until he had to swallow and answer. “I just wish Solari—no, that’s not true either. It could be an inheritance from your grandfather, and I’d still feel the same way.”

  “Well, technically it is an inheritance from my grandfather.”

  Once more, silence hovered until both Chad and Willow ordered it away simultaneously. “Ok—”

  “Well—”

  Chad smiled. “Go ahead.”

  “Tell me something,” Willow began nervously. “What would happen if we didn’t get married? Would you still come and see me? Would we still play Chinese checkers, go fishing, and sit on the porch swing in the summer?”

  “…didn’t get married…”

  The words slammed into Chad’s chest, sending his heart racing. “Not get married!” Now all eyes were on them once more. “What are you talking about?” he added much more quietly.

  “I just thought that this is such a big deal that maybe we need to forget about the wedding thing. This wasn’t an issue before.”

  He’d thought, well assumed—no hoped—that marriage was becoming more than a convenient living arrangement to her. Her apparent nonchalance nearly sickened him. Anger followed. Did she really think so little of their relationship? They were affectionate now!

  The memory of a handful of kisses told him she must hold some kind of deeper affection but her attitude—and her face. He stared at her, stunned. Willow’s eyes were earnest, her face placid, her demeanor calm. What was she thinking?

  “Are you serious?”

  “I think maybe it’s best. You won’t let me give it away, you don’t want me to have it without you, and you don’t want it. What other option is there? We go back to our regular friendship. Not that much was changing anyway.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. Chad shoved several bills onto the check tray and stood. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure.�
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  The drive home dragged past in painful silence. Chad drove with scrupulous conscientiousness to all traffic and speed laws before he turned into her driveway. As he braked just to the right of the farmhouse, he jerked his head toward the windows. “There’s a storm coming. I see the craft room windows open. Night.”

  Smiling broadly, Willow stepped from the vehicle. “Night, Chad. See you tomorrow?”

  “If you want.”

  “Of course I want, you ninny. Isn’t tomorrow your day off?”

  “Yeah. Engagement pictures tomorrow. I’ll call Wes.” Chad choked on the words. How on earth had this happened?

  “Ok. I’ll make breakfast around seven. Night.”

  Chad spun in the driveway kicking up more dust than ever. All concern for driving safety flew out the window and dissipated in the flying dirt and small gravel rocks. Willow stood on the steps until his tires squealed on the highway.

  With Chad safely gone, Willow’s forced cheerfulness and self-control evaporated. She sank to the bottom step, lifted her face toward the night sky, and wailed, “How is it that man can destroy my happiness from the grave!”

  Then, the tears flowed.

  Chapter 97

  Alone in his apartment, Chad raged. He paced the floor, kicked at the couch, and, when tears threatened, he threw his cell phone across the room. Immediately, regret flooded his conscience. There was no excuse for losing control—or for shattering innocent electronic devices.

  Dejectedly, Chad sank to the couch, hung his head in his hands, and prayed as he hadn’t prayed in months. Each second of his internal clock seemed to be a deathblow to a dream and each blow made him angrier. She’d been so cool and collected—cheerful even. What had he missed?

  The clock screamed ten-thirty as he glanced at the red digital numbers. Wake up Pop or risk waking up Luke’s children? The chief? No, not the chief, he didn’t want to embarrass himself any further. With a sigh and a prayer for operational, if a bit scuffed, cell phones, Chad retrieved his, clipped the cover back on it securely, and dialed home.