Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Episode 11

by Chautona Havig

  A Serial Novel: Episode Eleven

  Chautona Havig

  Copyright 2012 Chautona Havig

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Connect with Me Online:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/ - !/Chautona

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Chautona-Havig-Just-the-Write-Escape/320828588943

  My blog: http://chautona.com/chautona/blog/

  All Scripture references are from the NASB. NASB passages are taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE (registered), Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation

  Contents

  Copyright 2012 Chautona Havig 2

  Chapter Seventy-Five 4

  Chapter Seventy-Six 9

  Chapter Seventy-Seven 15

  Chapter Seventy-Eight 20

  Chapter Seventy-Nine 24

  Chapter Eighty 33

  Chapter Eighty-One 37

  Chapter Eighty-Two 41

  Chapter Eighty-Three 48

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  “Hey there,” Chad’s voice murmured.

  Willow shifted the phone to her other ear, smiling. It was good to hear him sound so normal. “Did they decide when to let you go home?”

  “Mom and Dad are packing a bag for me and then coming to get me. They’ll drop me off at your house on their way home. You sure you want to do this? I could have Mom bring the air mattress and sleep downstairs so you could keep your bed.”

  “No, your mom wants to pamper you for a day or two, and I think that’s nice.”

  Chad sighed. A week at Willow’s and no work. It sounded like a vacation rather than doctor’s orders. “I can’t go back to work until Saturday. I’m really leaving them shorthanded.”

  “Well, you’re no good to them until you’re healthy, so I’m glad. Besides, you work too hard anyway.”

  “Says the woman who works more than the rest of us combined!”

  Muffled sounds filled Willow’s ears until Chad returned delighted. “They’re back. I’ll see you in a while. Make me some coffee?”

  “As you wish,” she teased as she hung up the phone. She hurried to the kitchen to heat the water and dumped the instant coffee crystals in his new mug. “As you wish,” she whispered once more.

  Chad rested on his bed while Willow and Marianne worked on the spare bedroom. Two hours earlier, Marianne had jumped up from the floor, caught up in Willow’s vision, and announced she was going to town. “I need magazines. I can’t see this without pictures. You’ll have to show me what you want, and then maybe I’ll understand.”

  Now they sat bent over half a dozen magazines, debating the idea of Willow’s old dollhouse as a focal piece in the room versus a bookcase filled with baskets of yarns. “If I go with the yarns, I’ll choose what I want to knit based upon what I think will look pretty in the baskets rather than based upon what I want to wear, but…”

  “I think we’ve been in here too long. You can decide with fresh eyes later.”

  Willow rose to go grab her ball gown from her room, but Marianne stopped her. “I did get a couple of more magazines—”

  “Why didn’t you show me? Maybe—”

  “They’re not for decorating,” Marianne warned.

  “Well, what are they for then?”

  Looking sheepish, Marianne pulled them from her suitcase. “Modern Bride and Brides. When I saw them, I couldn’t resist, but…”

  Willow took one of the large magazines and flipped through the pages. “Wow. This is a lot of information. Just to say, ‘I do?’”

  Marianne sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Willow thumbed through both magazines. “I would have thought that this would be right up your alley. I mean you love to create; you love beauty. I thought you’d be all caught up in creating invitations and guest favors, and planning dresses.” With her voice laced with disappointment, she added, “I assume you’ll make your dress.”

  “I’m under strict orders not to consider it. Chad says I need to buy the biggest, poofiest white dress I can find. He didn’t like my dress.”

  “Do you have a dress you wanted?”

  Willow dug to the back of her closet and pulled out her white embroidered dress. “I suggested this one, but now that I see the magazines, I can see why Chad wasn’t impressed.”

  “Well, we can go looking for dresses soon if you like. I know a few places in Rockland that carry things that might suit your style. I’d hate to see you wear just any old dress because someone labeled it a ‘bridal gown.’ You need to find something you love, but—” Marianne turned away to fiddle with her suitcase.

  “But what? Tell me.”

  “Well, call me an interfering mother, and I’ll back off, but I think my son deserves a bride who looks like she cared enough about him to dress herself for the occasion.”

  At last, an argument that Willow understood. The idea of a wedding slowly grew on her. Invitations, gifts for guests, and some of the other artistic sides of the wedding appealed to her sense of design and creativity. “So what do you think the first thing you do when you plan a wedding?”

  This was all Marianne needed. “Come on; let’s go downstairs where we won’t bother Chad.”

  At the kitchen table, Marianne pulled out the tiniest of notebooks from her purse. “We’ll fill this up in no time, but—”

  Willow reached for a blank journal on the hutch. “How about this?”

  “Excellent. Now, I think the first thing you have to do is pick colors. Without colors, you don’t know what to do for flowers, or dresses, or invitations…”

  While Marianne thumbed through the books showing her everything from pink and black to red, orange, and even the most hideous shades of green Willow had ever encountered, she focused on flowers. In her mind, she saw tables with spring flowers. “I think I want something that looks good with daisies and lilacs.”

  “Ok. That’s great! So either lavender with yellow accents or yellow with lavender—”

  “White with yellow. The lilacs can be the only lavender. It’ll be simpler that way and then there’s less to match.” Willow said decisively. “I’ll get my paper catalog—”

  “Why?”

  “To order paper for the invitations.”

  Marianne slowly turned pages in the magazine as Willow hurried upstairs for the “paper catalog.” What she returned with was a huge book of samples. “Every two or three years, Mother ordered one of these. They carry everything.”

  “Um, Willow…” Marianne began tentatively, “we could go into the city tomorrow. There must be twenty stores that sell everything in that book plus some and then there are quite a few small scrapbooking stores.”

  “Really?”

  “I’d be happy to drive us if you thought—”

  Willow beamed. “Wow. I wonder if Mother knew that we had such a variety so close. Let’s go!” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling before she added, “That is if you think Chad is fine alone for the day.”

  “I’m fine alone for a month. What are you doing?”

  Chad’s interruption startled both women, earning him a good-natured scolding. “Your mother offered to take me to Rockland to buy paper for invitations.”

  “Mom! I told her she wouldn’t have to think about it until after Luke’s wedding. I wanted her to see everything, so she knows what she’s up against.”

  Willow held up the magazines triumphantly.
“But your mom found a way to bring it here. Besides, I didn’t get a wedding invitation, so how am I supposed to learn from that?”

  “That’s odd; Libby called three weeks ago to confirm your address. Are you sure?”

  Nodding, Willow stared out the window. “I’m trying to remember when I checked my mail last. Maybe I didn’t get it all or maybe it’s come since then.”

  Chad grabbed her keys, pulling on his coat. “I’ll go look. It’ll be nice to take a walk.”

  From the living room window, Marianne watched her son plow through the fresh snow to the mailbox. Willow sat at the table sketching invitation ideas, using the magazines as a guideline. When Marianne walked back to the kitchen, she nearly squealed with delight.

  “That is beautiful, Willow! You could have that copied, and—”

  “Copied? I don’t think I’d enjoy that. I think I’ll just sketch them, but only if Chad likes it.

  On a blank page of her journal, Willow had written:

  Daisies

  Lilacs

  And below them, she had drawn a picture of a sprig of lilacs bunched with a trio of daisies and tied with a ribbon.

  “I think I’d attach ribbon inside and actually tie it around the ‘stems.’ It’d be prettier that way. Or maybe I could get a sheer paper to lay over it and soften it instead. Of course, I could fold the top part over and leave the bottom free and…”

  Willow was still discussing options with herself when Chad returned. Marianne had gone upstairs to call her husband, reappearing just in time to see Chad lean over the back of Willow’s chair. He pointed at one of Willow’s designs. “I like that idea. We need to call Wes Hartfield too. I want his pictures.”

  With an emphatic nod, Willow wrote the name down on a fresh page in the journal. “I’ll get his number from Alexa. I agree. My birthday pictures were the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.”

  “Birthday pictures?” Marianne’s voice perked up at the mention of pictures.

  Without a word, Willow crossed the living room to the bookcase and returned with her birthday album. “Wes took these for my birthday. Aren’t they beautiful?”

  “Oh! Look…”

  Chad winked. “Yep. Without a doubt, Mom approves.”

  “Can you imagine what a photographic genius like this man will do with the beauty Willow will create here?”

  Eager to divert the subject, Willow turned to Chad and asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind if we go to Rockland tomorrow? Do you want to come?”

  “Nah, I’ll stay here. That way, you girls can go, have fun, and not have to rush back. I’ll take care of the animals,” Chad insisted.

  Near dinnertime, Marianne changed clothes, grabbed her purse, and left for Brandt’s Corners, planning to have dinner with Libby. Chad watched her go with an air of relief that Willow found comical. “If I didn’t know you better, Chadwick Tesdall, I’d say that you were happy to see her go.”

  “Is it bad to admit that your mother talks too much sometimes?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have encouraged her with the wedding things. She just seemed so excited…”

  “Grab your plate, let’s eat on the couch, and watch that movie mom gave you for Christmas. She’s been bugging me about it.”

  Chad set up his laptop on the coffee table, plugged it into the socket, and then went to switch on the power. “Hey, did you know the circuit breaker was on?” he asked as he returned to the living room.

  It took Willow a few seconds to answer. “I turned it on for the phone charger. I must have forgotten to turn it off again.”

  “Mom using a candle when she could have used a light switch… how funny.”

  “Well,” Willow hedged. “I’m not sure we have bulbs in most of the light fixtures so it probably wouldn’t have helped anyway.”

  “Good point.”

  Half way through the movie, Marianne called to say she’d be back in the morning. “We’re watching a movie and by the time it’s over…”

  “We’re watching North and South. It’s not bad for one of those period things,” Chad admitted.

  Marianne laughed. “There’s no way I’m coming back then. I wouldn’t ruin that for anything. Behave yourself, son.”

  Chad stared at the phone confused and then snapped it shut. “Mom’s coming back in the morning. They’re watching a movie too.”

  From the strike, to the attack on Margaret, to Bessie Higgins’ death, the story captivated them. However, after three hours, Willow was half-asleep, leaning against Chad and his arm draped around her. Suddenly, in the last minutes of the film, Willow sat up abruptly.

  “Make it go back.”

  Surprised that Willow wanted to rewind a very intimate kiss, he slid the progress bar back on the screen and hit play again. She watched intently, although with some obvious embarrassment, and when Margaret walked away from John Thornton again, Willow insisted he rewind the scene again.

  After the third time, Chad paused the movie and crossed his arms, trying to gauge her reaction. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. You can play it.”

  “That’s not true. Something made you watch it again.”

  “I—well, I—” She shook her head. “Just play it. I’ll explain when the movie’s over.”

  She settled once more against Chad’s side, although somewhat less comfortably, and watched the remaining seconds of the movie before the credits rolled. “You were right I guess.”

  “Right about what?”

  “You once told me that kissing a man isn’t the same as kissing your mother or a friend. Now I see what you mean. I cannot imagine my mother kissing me anything like that—” she pointed at the screen. “And if that is what you think Bill wanted that night, well I’m glad I told him to go away.”

  Chad didn’t speak for several minutes. The kiss had moved her, yes, but it had moved him as well, yet in a very different way. Affection for Willow came naturally. He’d rarely even thought about it. His family was an affectionate one, and until the fiasco with Linnea Burrell, he’d been affectionate with almost everyone in his life.

  Of course, he’d kissed her forehead or the top of her head, just as he’d kissed his sister or his aunt. He’d seen hundreds of on-screen kisses over the years and at best, they bored him. Too often, he often found them a little repulsive. This one, however— He sighed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Chad pulled her back to him as Willow tried to pull away. “For what?”

  “You sighed. I thought maybe I annoyed you or something.”

  “The kiss moved me too Willow. I think—” Chad cut himself off. “I think I’ll say goodnight.”

  Fifteen minutes later, just as he started to drift to sleep, the music from the end of the movie drifted up to his room. Chad crept down the stairs to the landing and smiled as he watched Willow, head in her hands, elbows on her knees, re-watching the final scene of the movie just once more.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  The clock chimed nine-thirty. Chad reached for his phone. He’d waited, hadn’t demanded information, had been the perfect patient, but the women were gone, and now it was time for answers. “Hey Chief, where is Brad?”

  “Had to take his car in for an oil change. He’s walking in now; do you need him?”

  “Actually,” Chad admitted, “I was hoping you’d come out here and tell me what you know about the accident. I’ve been thinking about it, and none of it makes sense.”

  “You’re supposed to be recuperating, Chad.”

  Chad fought to keep a respectful tone in his voice as he pressed for information. “Look, I’ll be back in three days. How can knowing what’s going on hurt me now? I can’t go anywhere; I don’t have a vehicle. I’m stuck out here at Willow’s by myself all day, and I’m bored stiff.”

  Chief Varney resisted the idea but eventually capitulated. “I’ll bring out the files and tell you what we know. Can’t stay long; I’ve got beat this afternoon.”

  “You’re on beat?
I’m sorry.”

  The Chief chuckled. “Unlike you, son, I like it. It’s cold this time of year, but people need a friendly face.”

  Twenty minutes later, Chief Varney sat on Willow’s couch and passed a file across the coffee table. A question jerked him from the contents as his boss spoke. “Chad, I’ve never wanted to ask—it’s none of my business, but is there anything going on with you and Miss Finley?”

  Feeling a little self-conscious, Chad said, “Well actually, we’re getting married.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know things had gotten that serious. Congratulations!”

  “We haven’t announced it yet. My cousin’s getting married in March, so we’re waiting until after that. Let him have his day, you know?”

  “Thoughtful of you. I have to admit, I’m surprised. You always seemed a little put out that you had to come out here. I knew it’d happen eventually, but—” Varney took back the file and spread out the information they had on Willow’s stalker across the coffee table. “His name is Ben Fischer. Clean record. One speeding ticket and a drunk and disorderly on his twenty-first birthday, but other than that, model citizen.”

  “Any idea why he was after Willow?”

  Chief Varney shook his head. “No, and what’s worse, a guy like him doesn’t do the things he did without some training or experience.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen it in Rockland. We’d find them dead with no ties to anyone, no record, but too much experience or training for it to be a fluke.”

  “So working for someone?”

  With a hesitant nod, Chief Varney pointed at Chad’s neck. “That accident. It wasn’t one. Your head injury could have come from hitting the side of the door, but that hypodermic didn’t just jab itself into your neck.”

  “True…”

  The older man continued as if on a roll. “And how did Fischer’s seatbelt fail? He just accidentally managed to fly through the back window? I don’t think so. The coroner found a hypodermic on him too. He’d have missed it if we hadn’t got suspicious about your memory loss. You didn’t hit your head that hard.”