Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 4 Page 5

  “He’s so in love with you.”

  Uncertain eyes glanced at Becca. “What?”

  “Chad. I could see how much he loves you at the wedding. It was a hard day for him, wasn’t it?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m crazy I guess but it seemed like he was nervous about something.”

  “He was—I’m a scary prospect,” Willow teased.

  “How did you meet Chad?”

  With a rueful smile, Willow answered as simply as she could. “He was the officer on duty when I reported Mother’s death.”

  “Oh I am so sorry.”

  “No, it’s ok. It’s a natural question. Who meets their husband over a police counter?”

  Becca held up her candles. “How are these?”

  “Excellent! I think you have a knack for it.”

  “So tell me more about you and Chad,” Becca persisted.

  “Like what?”

  With a mental list of dozens of questions, Becca launched into the first ones that came to mind. “When did you fall in love with him? What is his best quality? Are you planning to have many children? What was your favorite date?”

  “Well, you don’t ask much, do you?”

  “I just got started!” Becca laughed nervously.

  “Well, which first?”

  “When did you knew you were in love with him?”

  Willow smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid my answer is going to be less than satisfactory. You see, I’m not in love with him. I love him of course,” she hastened to add. “But from what I read and what several people have told me, I’m not ‘in love.’ Yet.”

  “How could you marry—”

  “He’s my best friend. How could I not?”

  This was logic that Becca couldn’t argue. “I suppose. It would make things easier.” She hesitated. “It’s like at Adric’s. With what we’re doing…” Becca paused. Maybe taking about her situation wasn’t appropriate. After all, what she thought of how her month was going was not just about her.

  Compassion flooded Willow’s face. “I think you’re very brave. To move into a man’s home, trust him with your safety and your heart—that takes courage that I don’t have.”

  “I—” surprise stopped her. Courage. It wasn’t a word Becca would have chosen but described as Willow did, it had taken courage. “I guess I can see that. But then, Adric turned out to be such a wonderful man.”

  “From what I could tell, he seems like exactly the kind of man I would have looked for had I gone looking.”

  Willow’s words swirled in Becca’s mind as she tried to process them. Adric seemed nothing like Chad, and yet Willow was right. Adric was exactly the kind of man she’d prayed for since her unfortunate “marriage” failed. The thought confused her. “Isn’t it odd that you made a friend and married him without worrying about love, and I’m spending a month with a man I don’t know trying to find love without a friendship?”

  “I think it’s two roads to the same destination. I imagine both have smooth spots and both have ruts like my driveway gets sometimes, but it works.” Willow smiled. “Tell me, what are the chances you would marry Adric if everything continued going as it is going today?”

  “Honestly, after talking to you today, if he asked me to marry him tonight, I’d probably say yes. He’s growing fond of me—I can tell. I know he’d be good to me and he is the kind of man I could be happy trying to help. Yesterday I would have said, ‘I hope I fall in love with him or someone like him, but you’ve really changed how I think.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” A panicked tone grew in Willow’s voice.

  “Well, I’m glad you did. I might have given up on a great guy, because I assumed I needed something that I don’t. Look how happy you are! Look how in love Chad is— If it can work for you, why not me?”

  “I didn’t know what to say,” Willow said sleepily. A year before, Willow would never have imagined talking to Chad about their love life at two in the morning as he crawled in from work. “I told her it wasn’t like that—that neither of us are in love like that—but she didn’t understand.”

  Chad led his wife out of the kitchen and up the stairs. “Aw, lass, but your friend is right,” he assured her as he pulled the light summer blankets over her as she crawled into bed.

  By the time he returned from his shower, Willow was fast asleep. He leaned against the dresser and watched her as the moonlight shone across her face. The light reflected the peace in her expression, and yet there was the slightest wrinkle in her brow as though there were questions unanswered in her mind that troubled her.

  “You have no idea, lass. You have no idea.”

  At ten o’clock Chad crawled from the covers disoriented. The room was darker than he thought it should be, until he realized that she’d made new shades that blocked out the light entirely. Chad spent a few minutes trying to discover how to raise them until the obvious answer made him chuckle. “Only Willow would make shades that you hand roll up and hook onto the top of the window,” he muttered to himself.

  In the bathroom, he was tempted to ignore the dark stubble that turned his jaw line into sandpaper, but remembering Willow’s involuntary grimace one morning the previous week, he grabbed his cordless razor and carried it into their bedroom. As he retrieved jeans and a t-shirt, he removed his recent growth. Who knew what she’d have them doing that day?

  Becca’s laughter greeted him as he entered the kitchen. “I can’t believe it worked!” Becca blushed. “Hey, Chad. She let me stir and look!”

  Chad obediently looked in the large enamel pot and nodded as if he understood what he saw. “Excellent. You having fun?”

  “This is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t believe how at home I feel doing all this stuff that I didn’t know anyone did anymore.”

  Willow handed Chad a cup of coffee and a muffin. “She’s good. I could leave her the recipe and go work out in the garden and come back to a perfect set.”

  “Then, can I steal you for a minute or two?”

  Outside, Willow leaned against the porch, staring up at Chad. He leaned one arm over hear head on the same post, playing with her hair. “I’ve got bad news, Willow.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not,” Chad admitted, “but you should know anyway. Lynne Solari’s trial…”

  She nodded. “So what you’re trying to tell me is that the trial is going to start soon?”

  “Next month. She has the best lawyers, but the evidence is undeniable. According to the D.A., she is not allowing her lawyers to call you to the stand.”

  Willow’s eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t know that was an option.”

  “He told me he might call you in for a deposition, but he doesn’t think he’ll need you in court.”

  Shaking her head, Willow protested. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Well, you won’t have a choice if they subpoena you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘won’t have a choice?’ I don’t want to go to court. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well,” Chad hadn’t realized that Willow didn’t understand this part of the law. “They can compel you to come and testify.”

  “How? Will they torture me? What kind of country is this? I thought we had protection from this kind of tyranny!” Tears of frustration filled her eyes and threatened to overflow. She brushed them away impatiently. “I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

  “They’ll find you in contempt of court. You’d be fined and probably jailed.” Chad lowered his voice, running a finger along her cheek. “It’ll be okay, lass. The D.A. said he didn’t think he’d need you in court. He just wants a deposition.”

  A stubborn look filled her face. “Then I’ll pay the fine and sit in jail until they realize that they can’t make me testify.”

  “They can keep you there until you do. Which means,” he added with the slightest hint of an edge to his voice,” that I’ll be
left without a wife, doing all the work around here, your crops will die, the animals will suffer, and we won’t be prepared for next winter—if you’re even out of jail by then. You’ll have a criminal record which, in this area, would probably kill any chances of my becoming an elected sheriff.”

  “It’s just not right!” Willow’s eyes flashed as she realized the helplessness of the situation. “I don’t want to get involved.”

  Chad slipped his hand in hers and led her slowly back to the barn. “You may not be. We don’t know.” He paused by the kitchen door and wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. “On a brighter note, your grandparents want us to come to dinner on Sunday. Joe switched with me so we could go.”

  “But you’ll miss church then!” Willow’s eyes looked confused. “I don’t understand you. One day church isn’t an option and the next it is.”

  “Family is important too, Willow. Your uncle and his wife and daughter will be there. I don’t know about the boys. I said I’d call this afternoon if we can make it.”

  “Well, we can make it, but—”

  “Good. I’ll call them right now. Are you guys going to work on that wool after the soap?”

  Willow shook her head. “I thought about it, but then I remembered Jill saying something about soap sleeves, so I think we’ll drag out the paper and paints and things and make covers for the soap. We can work on wool tomorrow.”

  “But Josh is coming—remember?”

  “Well, he can watch while we talk. You guys can go fishing or something if he’s not interested.”

  Chad’s laughter startled Becca as she poured soap into molds. “Willow, I don’t think Josh is the fishing kind of guy. I think he’d find it pretty disgusting.”

  “Who wouldn’t like fishing?”

  “Guys like Josh are um—well they’re more interested in artsy things. Some don’t like the outdoors much—”

  “Oh, so Josh is like Bill. I see—”

  “Um…” Chad hesitated. Should he even bother explaining? “Let’s just say that Bill wouldn’t find that a very flattering comment. I’ll show him your books and craft room and maybe take him on a tour of the town if he’s not interested in wool. I can see him being very interested in spinning so who knows.”

  “Chad?”

  “Hmm?”

  Willow reached up, pulled his face closer to hers, and met his eyes. “Sometimes you make no sense.”

  He kissed her nose and opened the kitchen door. “Why don’t I go bring down that paper stuff for you while you guys finish the soaps?”

  “So what does Chad do all day? I mean when he’s not working?” Becca suddenly felt stupid. He worked all day or night—what else did the guy need to do.

  “Well, when he’s home, he takes care of the animals most of the time. Anything I need harvested he’s good at, and he did the new field plowing for me. He’s probably going to be the woodworker around here too.”

  “So will you do more of your own animal breeding and butchering now that he’s around?”

  This wasn’t something Willow had ever considered. The problem with having a predictable routine was the inevitable tendency toward a rut. “I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to him. Perhaps he’d rather do that.”

  “I was thinking this’d be a cool place for school field trips. You know, the kids could come and see you make soap and candles, milk a goat, spin some wool, bake bread in a woodstove, can food—it’d be almost like one of those living museums.”

  “Do you really think anyone would be interested in seeing something like this?”

  “If you had regular tours, I’d find the ones most appropriate for my older daycare kids, and I’d bring them out one summer day. You could have hayrides and picnics…” The dreamy tones to Becca’s voice told Willow that her guest was romanticizing her life.

  “How would I show the work involved though? Making soap is fun—candles too. But this is all work. Sunup until sundown from around February, thanks to the greenhouse, through October at the least. It’s hard work. How do you take away the romantic idea that it’s just playing Laura Ingalls three hundred sixty-five days a year?”

  Concentrating on Willow’s words, Becca shrugged. “I’m not sure. I mean, it’d be a lot of work giving those kinds of tours, and if you don’t have time to spare, it probably wouldn’t work.”

  “I’ll talk to Chad. He’s always saying that children should all have my childhood. I disagree. I think that if everyone had the same kind of childhood, the world would be a very uninteresting place. But, maybe he has a point about everyone experiencing a taste of it, just as I’d like my children to taste the occasional day in the city going to museums or the zoo.”

  Becca held up another finished soap sleeve and smiled. “I like them. Why is it called Walden Farm instead of Finley or Tesdall?”

  “Chad named it for Mother. She loved Thoreau’s ‘live life deliberately’ and ‘sucking the marrow out of life,’ and that’s what this farm was about—enjoying every moment of every day to its fullest. So he thought we should name it. I think Bill is working on changing our holdings over to some kind of corporation with that name too.”

  The living room clock struck four-thirty. Becca’s eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly began clearing her paper mess. “I have to go. Gram is going to be wondering where I am, and what I’m doing. Adric gets home in a little while.”

  “How is it going? Are you hoping to keep seeing him next month too?”

  “I think I will. He’s being very—oh, I don’t know the word. Attentive perhaps. He’s good to me; he’s a little affectionate, and from the way Lily was talking, he hasn’t done that yet. Sometimes I think I see something in his eyes that tells me he’s even more attached than he says, but I don’t know. I’m just so happy that it looks like there’s a chance, you know?”

  “Well,” Willow teased, “Don’t keep the man waiting too long. There’s another gal from next month just waiting to step into your shoes.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Becca agreed ruefully. “It makes me sick to think about it, but if I’m who the Lord wants for him, I guess I need to have a little more faith.”

  Chapter 109

  Willow pounded beef while Becca stirred the sauce on the stove. “Now when those flavors taste right, let me know.”

  “What is the purpose of the beef again?” Becca had never heard of “pizza” like this.

  “Well, the first pizza Chad bought me was mostly bread with a little sauce and a lot of cheese. Almost no meat—nothing to stick to your ribs until the next meal. So I put a thin slice of beef over the bread before I add the sauce.”

  “Have you thought about Italian sausage instead of beef?”

  Shaking a bottle of olive oil, Willow shrugged. “I’ve never had Italian sausage, but Chad bought me this olive oil. He says it’ll taste better on the bread than the butter.”

  Chad entered the kitchen with a basket of greens and a few well-ripened tomatoes. “I didn’t remember if you wanted the green onions or not.”

  “Yes. But if you didn’t get them, don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine without them.”

  He held up a bunch triumphantly. “Score! I remembered it all then.”

  “I can’t believe you guys have ripe tomatoes from a garden!”

  “Greenhouse,” Willow corrected. “Now that I have the greenhouse, I can have ripe tomatoes all year.”

  Beef pounded, Willow scrubbed her hands and then began washing the lettuce. She paused, examining it closely. “Is this lettuce from the garden?”

  “Well, it looked ready, why?”

  “Loopers. I’ve got to get out there and soap them before we get eggs. I’ll do that before dinner.” Willow quit rinsing the greens and immediately left for the barn.

  “Loopers. What are they?”

  Chad shrugged and started washing the leaves looking for whatever had bothered Willow. “Becca, your guess is as good as mine. Apparently it’s something we don’t want in the garden though
.”

  Willow arrived with a large spray bottle and filled it as Chad washed. Then she dropped a large squirt of dish soap in the container and shook it vigorously. “Don’t let me forget Chad.”

  “Why not do it now?”

  “Best to do first thing in the morning or late afternoon. That’s when the obnoxious critters are out.”

  Becca and Chad exchanged confused and amused glances. Willow took the scrubbed greens and tore them, filling a large wooden salad bowl with them. Deftly, she chopped tomatoes, onions, radishes, and cucumbers. Before she could ask Chad for the croutons she’d made at breakfast, a car crunched in the driveway.

  “I think Josh is here. Why don’t you go get him?” Willow waved Chad out the door and pointed to a bowl on the top of the stove. “Becca, can I have that bowl please?”

  By the time Chad ushered Josh into the kitchen, Willow and Becca were assembling the modified pizzas, ready to pop them into the oven. Willow noticed beads of perspiration on Chad’s forehead and a growing line of them across Josh’s upper lip and groaned inwardly. It might be time move to the summer kitchen already.

  “Chad, why don’t you go get one of those tables and some of the chairs from the barn and put it all up on the back porch. We can eat out there where it’s cooler.”

  The look of relief in Chad’s eyes told Willow she’d made the right move. “I’ll do that.” Before he left, he turned to Josh. “Oh, this is Becca Jacobs. She’s here visiting a friend on the farm that backs ours.”

  Becca rinsed her hands, dried them on her apron, and turned to greet Josh and froze. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She extended her hand smiling. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too.” Josh looked at their hands, his feet, back over at Willow— anything to avoid meeting Becca’s eyes. Willow didn’t understand what was wrong with them.

  “Hey Josh, mind giving me a hand with the chairs?”

  Once the men were outside, Becca turned to Willow, confused. “I didn’t expect your friend to be—”