Past Forward Volume 1

by Chautona Havig

  “Not at all. You were great though. Not everyone—” Luke paused and gave Chad a meaningful look. “Not everyone knows how to handle a child like Cari.”

  Libby brought the twins onto the porch to model their new outfits. Willow beamed as she saw them and immediately asked to take a picture. “I’d love to have one for my scrapbook.”

  At Aggie’s agreement, Willow pulled her simple 35mm camera from her purse and spent several minutes trying to capture the perfect picture without wasting film. Chad, groaning in exasperation, turned to Luke. “Is your camera in your glove compartment?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Can I use it?” Chad jumped up and jogged down the steps, pausing only until Luke answered.

  “I guess—”

  Chad returned quickly, carrying a digital camera and handed it to Willow. “Here snap a dozen; snap three dozen. We’ll delete any that are junk.”

  Though she didn’t understand why or how they’d delete pictures, Willow tried to take a few, assuming Aggie must want a copy as well. “I can’t find a viewfinder.”

  “Look at the screen.” Chad showed her the back of the camera. “It works like your phone.”

  “My phone?”

  “You read the instructions. I saw you.”

  “I read the phone instructions. I didn’t bother with anything about a camera.”

  Chad laughed. “Your phone takes pictures too. I’ll show you later. Meanwhile, hold the camera away from you so you can see the screen. Look.”

  By that time, the twins had lost all interest in modeling the jumpers and were jumping over porch boards trying to skip every other one. Aggie started to send them back to the steps for a more formal picture, but Willow shook her head. “I can wait. They’ve been patient.”

  Chad removed the memory card and returned the camera to the truck. “I’ll bring the card back Tuesday when I come work on—” He stopped short. “Ok?”

  They spent the afternoon on the porch, talking in between interruptions by the children begging for them to play this game or that. At around six o’clock, Aggie invited them in for dinner, but Willow gave Chad a panicked look. Relief washed over her as Chad explained that they needed to get back to milk the goat.

  Libby followed them to the truck and gave Willow a quick hug. “I’m so glad I met you, and I hope I see you again soon. If Chad doesn’t bring you to see me I may just show up on your doorstep.”

  He stayed to help with the chores. While Willow fixed grilled sandwiches and large salads, Chad milked the goat and watered and fed the other animals. They played Chinese checkers, and he almost won. It had been a good day—everything going exactly as he would have wished. Well, he would have preferred to help catch fish—almost exactly anyway. He waved as he bade her goodnight and strolled to his truck.

  Before he could climb in, Chad shut the truck door and returned to the porch where Willow still stood. “I just remembered. Next Saturday is the Midsummer’s Night Faire.”

  “But Midsummer’s Eve is in June—”

  “Well, Fairbury already has a street fair in June so they decided to find the actual middle of summer and have it then.”

  “What is ‘it?’”

  “Well, it started off as an outdoor play about twelve years ago, but now it’s a whole street fair. It starts around four and goes until midnight. There’s food, games—”

  “I don’t know… that’s kind of late to walk home and—”

  Chad tried to stuff back his impatience. “Who said anything about walking home? I was inviting you to go with me—”

  “I didn’t hear any invitation,” she snapped back.

  “I—” Chad began before he realized that she was right. He hadn’t asked. Furthermore, she wasn’t accustomed to reading between lines. “You’re right. I didn’t. I hoped you’d come. I think you’ll have fun, and of course, I’d bring you home but—” He realized mid-sentence that she’d miss the beginning if he came to get her.

  “But what?”

  Chad sighed. “But you’d have to walk or ride into town if you wanted to be there at the beginning. I don’t get off the beat until six.”

  Willow nodded. Chad started to tell her how much she’d enjoy it when she said, “No, I don’t think so. I’ll have to be up early to walk to church the next day, and you probably have to be at work by ten don’t you?”

  “Oh you don’t want to miss this, Willow. Honestly. The cakewalk has some of the best cakes ever and there’s usually music. Alexa Hartfield is always there, wearing one of her crazy dresses, and she’ll win the Shakespeare bee, of course.”

  Willow’s head stopped shaking. “Shakespeare bee?”

  “It’s like a spelling bee only with Shakespearean quotes.”

  A small smile played around Willow’s mouth. “I’ll come. I want to see a Shakespeare bee.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Wood shavings curled, flew through the air, and fell to the floor as Chad scraped the headstone, slowly rounding the corner. Every thrust of his arms sent a new shower of wood curls all over the workroom. While he awkwardly manipulated the plane, Luke sanded the roof of a dollhouse.

  “Hey, Luke?”

  “Hmm?” Luke didn’t raise his eyes from his project.

  “Do you think I’ll have trouble getting on the Rockland force?”

  Luke grabbed the tack cloth and wiped down the roof carefully. “If they’re hiring, and you have a recommendation from your chief, I don’t see why.”

  Something in Luke’s voice caught Chad’s attention. “What?”

  Seconds ticked by before Luke answered. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Grabbing the nearby sanding block, Chad started sanding the corners. “It’s what you didn’t say that speaks loudest.”

  “I just never understood your deep desire for the RPD. What brought it up, anyway?”

  “Willow.” A knowing look on Luke’s face irritated him. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Luke. She was at my apartment Sunday, and we were talking about my plans and why I haven’t furnished it and stuff.”

  “and.. and… and…”

  “Grammarian.”

  “Run-on-again. My mama would make you rephrase that ten different ways and you know it,” Luke teased. “She’s right, you know. There is nothing in your apartment to make you want to be there.”

  “I’m there all the time,” Chad protested. “I do have to sleep, you know.”

  “But are you there when you’re not sleeping?”

  Chad thought for a moment. “Well, sure. I eat there sometimes. Other times I do stuff with the church. I also like to go to the lake or play video games with Martinez when we’re both off.”

  “In other words, you aren’t there unless you have to be.”

  Chad picked up the plane and worked on a squared edge of the corner, carefully shaving off thin layers until it looked better. “I am just busy with work, church, and now I’m at Willow’s more than I’d like—”

  “Sure you are.”

  “Luke!”

  “Chad,” Luke began, that infernally annoying serious tone acting almost as a rebuke. “I really think you need to consider that Willow has a valid point. Who wants to come home to an empty apartment, a lumpy couch, and nothing that inspires you to want to be there?”

  “Who wants to be alone no matter how comfortable the surroundings?” Chad muttered under his breath.

  “Do you have any idea what it is like in a big city?”

  Animated, Chad talked about high-speed car chases, armed robbery, stalkers, and no walking a beat on the streets of the city. “I’ll be in the crunch of things. I can make a real difference. Here, I just put out sparks. In Rockland I can fight the raging fires.”

  Luke crossed the shop and leaned against the workbench. “Chad, do you have any idea of what it is really like? In Fairbury, you are respected. No one questions your authority. In Rockland, you’re going to be the enemy. You’ll deal with gangs who would rather shoot you than see yo
u.” He lowered his voice, clearly pained at his next thought. “Chad, you’ll be in danger not because of the situations you confront but because of the badge on your chest.”

  “So everyone should just abandon the city?”

  “That’s not what I said. You know me better than that. I just know you. You’re not as hardened as you like to let yourself think. I don’t want to see your heart seared because of a misplaced dream.”

  His eyes smoldered as he considered Luke’s words. His cousin didn’t think he could hack it. “I never knew you thought I was such a wuss.”

  “I don’t. Let me ask you a question. What will you do the first time you are propositioned—”

  “You think I haven’t been?” Chad protested.

  “—by a man,” Luke continued.

  “Luke…”

  “What about a family,” he continued. “You’ve always wanted one.”

  “I can’t have a family now?” Chad knew he sounded belligerent but he didn’t care.

  “I didn’t say that. What I was going to ask is if you wanted to rear a family in the city? Do you want your kids in the Rockland schools? What about your wife? Will she want to send her husband off to work each day, knowing that his chances of coming home alive are significantly lower than the officers in the rest of the greater Rockland area?”

  A sinking feeling slowly spread through his gut as Luke asked question after question. Some of them weren’t new. His mother, grandfather, and even Joe had all asked them. Others he’d thought of and stuffed aside as less important than the mission. Some he’d never considered.

  “So the answer is to bail on the cities? If Christian men don’t fill the jobs in the city, who will? We need—”

  “I agree.”

  Now Chad was thoroughly confused. “Then I don’t get it.”

  “My only question is if you, Chad Ezekiel Tesdall, are the one called by the Lord to fill this particular spot? Will you take the place of someone who knows city life but can’t get in because your application got there first?”

  “But Fairbury,” Chad groaned. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in Fairbury.” He paused. “Actually, that’s not true. I wouldn’t mind living there, but I don’t want the FPD as my career. I’m not Joe. I hate walking a beat. I don’t like getting cats out from under houses and searching for truants because there isn’t anything else to do.”

  “I always saw you as a sheriff. There’s more to that than writing tickets and breaking up bar fights.”

  “Yeah, we discussed it in the academy... It’s something to consider.”

  After picking up his plane once more, Chad asked his last question. “What is the main thing that made you doubt my plans for the RPD?”

  “You’re a country boy. You love people, and you come out of your shell when you’re on the job. I’ve seen it and it shows that law enforcement is your calling, but you love the woods, the streams, and the open fields of the country. I think you’d smother in the city.”

  “I can’t go, Chuck. I’d love to, but I just can’t. I’m too busy. This fall and winter I’ll have more time for a movie or something, but right now, I’m fighting to get the work of two women done alone.”

  Willow ignored Chuck’s protests. She was determined not to lose any momentum on winter preparations, and that meant no time for movies with Chuck. A thought occurred to her just as he started a new argument.

  “You could always come here and help. I’ve got enough canning to last forever. Come pick berries with me.”

  “I don’t know anything about canning.”

  “Who has to know how to pull berries off a bush? I’m going out tomorrow, come on over and pick instead of seeing the movie.”

  An uncertain tone crept into Chuck’s voice. “Are you asking me because you feel like you have to, because you need the help, or because you really do want me to come? You know, want me to come because I’m me.”

  Compassion flooded Willow’s heart. She’d been impatient and she knew it. “I need the help, Chuck. I won’t pretend I don’t. However, I want your company. Just come and talk to me if you prefer.”

  “I’ll be there Saturday morning. Thanks.”

  Bill hung up the phone. She was coming. Wednesday. He glanced at his calendar and ticked off the days as though hoping to shorten the time. Six days.

  “If she’d only come tomorrow. Maybe she could have stayed overnight—”

  He shook his head. That wasn’t going to work. He’d have to remember not to pressure. His eyes strayed to the calendar again, and he punched the button for Mari’s phone.

  “What’s on the calendar for next Wednesday?”

  With a little rearranging, he managed to clear the afternoon’s appointments. He stared at his ten o’clock. If he was willing to sacrifice a Saturday and tickets to Rockland stadium, he could clear the morning as well. With a sigh, Bill called Mari and told her to invite Mr. Keirburg to the game on Saturday and buy the tickets if he agreed. Bill hated baseball stadiums.

  A new debate raged within him. Did he surprise her with his free day or was he presuming once again? Unsure, he picked up the phone and redialed. Sheep bleated into the phone as Willow answered.

  “Hey, that didn’t sound like the goat!”

  “It wasn’t. That’s one of the lambs. I’m not sure which since neither have names.”

  Well, that was news to him. “I didn’t know you had sheep too.”

  “I don’t.” Willow’s voice betrayed her distraction.

  “Well, I just wanted to see what you had planned for Wednesday. I cleared my schedule in case you had time to do something.”

  Her silence unnerved him. She was irritated. That probably meant she’d planned to go to the DMV, get her ID, and get right back on the bus to Fairbury. Just as he opened his mouth to tell her not to give it another thought, she spoke. “I’d like to take you to lunch then.”

  “Well actually, I was hoping—”

  Her tone turned menacing as she threatened, “If you don’t let me take you to lunch, I’m getting on the first bus back to Fairbury once we’re done at the ID place.” She snickered.

  “I’ll make reservations for you. Where do you want to eat?”

  “Pick something good and I’ll love it,” she assured him. “I have no idea what’s available, so it’s silly for me to choose.”

  Bill fingered her thank you note as they chatted. The opening line “My Dear Mr. William Franklin,” had amused him; her genuine appreciation and delight in his gift had touched him, but the signature tugged at his heart in an entirely new way. As she described her lambs he reread it once again, “Most cordially yours, Willow Anne Finley.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The bike wobbled and Willow’s feet hit the ground. Again. She was drenched in sweat, exhausted, and still hadn’t stayed upright for longer than five feet—half of that being on the way down. She had two scraped knees, one scraped elbow, and the remnants of a bloody nose where she’d collided with the handlebars.

  A torn skirt lay abandoned on her bed with black streaks of grease accentuating each side of the mangled hemline. Her shorts were in no danger of tearing but her legs hadn’t fared as well. She’d worked on it all day and was ready to toss the bike in the barn loft and forget about it.

  A car turned into her driveway. Great. Chad could now watch her fail--again. Willow wiped a dirty arm across her brow leaving streaks of dirt mingled with the perspiration clinging to her skin.

  As he climbed from the truck, Chad waved, calling, “Hey, what’re you doing?”

  Her glare seemed to say, “Well, genius, I’m knitting socks for the freezing orphans in Beverly Hills,” but her tone remained remarkably civil. “Trying to conquer this beast.”

  He neared and Chad saw the scrapes, scratches, dirt, and blood. “Oh Willow—”

  “Just help me figure out how to stay up on this thing.”

  Now he knew what his father must have felt like as he grabbed a spring from her s
eat and held on tight. “Ok, I’ve got you. Just pedal. I won’t let go until you tell me.”

  She bounced along the road, her feet slipping off the petals occasionally but slowly growing confident in their placement. “Ok, let go but stay close.”

  Chad jogged alongside her as she wobbled down the road. “You’ve got it.”

  Too confident in her abilities, Chad stopped, hands on hips, and cheered as she rolled down the drive. Before he could react, however, she hit a rock, and flew over the handlebars. He rushed to help her up, but she pushed his hands away.

  “Leave me alone. This is the best I’ve felt in hours.”

  “Did you hit your head?” Chad demanded, concerned.

  “I did not. I’m fine. I’m just tired of falls and scrapes and ruined clothes. I’m glad I’ve been sewing or my skirt would be a really sore spot with me right now.”

  “Come on. Pretend it’s a horse. Get back up there.”

  Willow rolled onto her side and glared up at him once more. “I think not.”

  “Are you hurt? I mean do you have any new injuries?”

  He watched as she tugged at her shirt to hide a scrape across her stomach. “I’m fine. I’m just not getting up for a long time.”

  “Would please work?”

  Her laughter, though strained, coincided with a shake of her head. “I’m not ungrateful, really. I just want to rest. I’m tired and sticky, and I have cuts and bruises enough to last forever.”

  Chad’s hand reached for hers. “Come on. One more time. I promise I won’t bug you about it again. Today anyway.”

  As he drove away, Chad glanced in the rearview mirror. He wanted to stuff her in his cruiser and drive her to his mother or his Aunt Libby. She looked so young, so battered. Her nose, the knot she tried to hide on the side of her head—the memory sickened him. He was used to the dirt, the sweat, the fatigue. That was part of who Willow was. The injury—that he couldn’t handle.

  It had never occurred to him that learning to ride might be difficult. Willow could do anything she set her mind to do. It was the mark of the Finley women. How could he possibly have known she’d struggle so much? Riding a bike was like, well, riding a bike. Wasn’t it?