Past Forward Volume 1

by Chautona Havig

  Lord, does he know You well enough to get through this? It might be worth it all if this draws him closer to You. He punched the first floor button on the elevator and waited for the doors to close as he added his last thought. Maybe.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chad wandered sleeplessly through Willow’s house. Strange sounds echoed through the rooms, making him nervous. He rolled his eyes once he realized the odd sounds were his own footsteps. Saige whimpered for Willow at the back door; his heart whimpered for her as he fumbled for lights that didn’t work.

  Would she be able to climb the stairs? What about the garden? Should he let Jill come pick whatever she wanted so it didn’t go to waste? What about the fruit she had so looked forward to? Could she keep up with this place while injured? Would the setbacks hurt her this winter? What about the money? Did she have enough to make it without a full harvest of whatever they usually had?

  He entered Kari’s bedroom absentmindedly. The moonlight sent a shaft of light across the room and illuminated the wall between the doors. He reached up and grabbed one of the journals on the shelf. He’d read. Surely, it would make him sleepy, especially if he used a candle in Willow’s room.

  Awkwardness settled in his gut as he crawled beneath her covers. It’s just a bed, Tesdall. Get a grip. Disgusted with himself, Chad rearranged her pillows until he could read comfortably by the light of the candle. A faint scent of lavender wafted over him occasionally, but he was too tired to locate the source. In minutes, he was lost in a world that was as foreign to him as it was real to Willow.

  April 1999-

  The garden is growing well. Willow planted the entire thing by herself. That illness I had this winter took more out of me than I expected, but I’m fine now. I send her fishing a little more often than usual. Maybe it’ll appease her desire for sheep a little longer.

  Chad smiled to himself as he read. Willow wasn’t fickle. Her interest hadn’t wavered, and her tenacity was, if possible, even stronger now.

  Willow’s understanding of money is merely theoretical. I realized this the other day when she asked how people could afford to buy food. Somehow, in her mind, the height of luxury is to purchase food and when she realized that most of this country does just that, she was appalled.

  The funny thing is that she brooded over it for several days and then announced, as though confessing a great sin, “I am glad we can’t afford to buy food. We’d be positively bored if we didn’t have our work!”

  I tried to explain that we have lots of money in the accounts and about the investments. I told her Steve’s father paid me off and that we had more money than we could ever use, but it is meaningless to her. Maybe I should give her small bits of cash and have her spend it, but I doubt it would help. She simply has no interest in commerce.

  I leave her at home all the time now. I used to bring her with me to Fairbury if I had to go—never Rockland of course. Now I don’t even take her to Fairbury. The last time we were there, a pimple-faced boy whistled at her. She didn’t notice, of course, but she will. I need to make sure I don’t pull away from her as she gets older. She’s always been so touchy—so affectionate. If I am not careful and meet that need, she’ll pull away from me, looking for someone or something to fill it. I am afraid if I’m not diligent that she’ll marry the first man who comes along.

  Chad read through to the end of the journal. Their Christmas celebrations tugged at his heart. They were so alone, and yet they seemed more fulfilled in their little family celebrations than almost anyone he knew. Even his own family didn’t have the absolute peace that Kari and Willow had managed to achieve.

  “You truly did find the Peace that passes understanding, didn’t you, Kari?”

  “Chad?”

  A glance at Willow showed her struggling to open her eyes. With a deep sigh that he tried to suppress, Bill took her hand. “Chad’s gone to your house to get some sleep and take care of the animals.”

  “That’s odd,” Willow murmured. “I thought I heard his voice.”

  “He was here until about an hour ago.” Bill grabbed the pitcher beside the bed and poured her a cup of water, holding the straw for her. “Apparently, your body reacts really well to anesthesia. You haven’t seemed to want to wake up.”

  “I feel so weak.” Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath. “I can’t ever remember feeling so weak.”

  “Willow,” he began, brushing her hair out of her eyes, “you lost a lot of blood. They had to give you a transfusion.”

  “Transfusion? Oh, surgery. Right. The doctor in Fairbury said something about that before they put me in the heliotropter.”

  “Helicopter, yes.”

  Never had he thought he’d be glad to hear a woman giggle. “That’s what I called them when I was little. I saw my first one the year we planted heliotrope.” She took a deep breath and coughed. “Water?” After a sip she continued her story as if compelled. “I got the names all mixed up in my mind. It amused Mother, so I’ve always said it that way. It always made her smile.”

  “Kari had a beautiful smile.” It seemed cruel to say, but Bill didn’t know how to respond.

  “I miss her.” Bill watched as she struggled to control her emotions, a tear sliding down her temple and splashing onto the pillow. “Why are you here? It has to be late…”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to leave you alone in here.”

  “But you need your sleep too.”

  Bill forced himself to smile. “Not as much as I need to know you’re ok. Now just rest or the nurse will come in here and yell at me again. They don’t like us being here because we’re not family.”

  “But I don’t have—well, I guess I do—but it’s like I don’t have family. You’re the closest thing—well, you and Chad of course—that I have to family.”

  “Shh…” Bill whispered smoothing hair away from her face again. “I’m here, and Chad will be back in the morning. You just rest.”

  The phone jarred both Willow and Bill from sleep. Bill punched it on, feeling stupid for not setting it to vibrate while she was sleeping. “Yes.”

  “Bill?” Chad’s voice sounded uncertain.

  “Yes.”

  Chad stammered for a minute about a prayer chain around the Rockland loop and then asked about visitors. “Is she staying today?”

  “Yes. The nurse said it would be tomorrow at the earliest. They have to watch for infection and get her started on physical therapy before she leaves.”

  Chad asked a few questions, most of which were variations of the last one. Bill couldn’t decide if it was an occupational hazard or if Chad was stalling. “I can’t tell you anything more. I just don’t know.”

  Silence hung between them until Bill thought they’d gotten disconnected. Just as he was about to slide his phone shut, Chad said, “So, Alexa Hartfield wanted to bring Willow’s birthday album to her. I guess Willow was supposed to get it after the faire last Saturday but forgot. I was going to ask if she’d bring my Aunt Libby too. I think Willow would like that.” He paused for a moment before he added, “I’m rambling. Did I ask how she is?”

  “Doing well. Trying to rest—”

  “And I woke her up. Argh—” Chad’s voice blasted through the phone.

  Willow heard him and grinned. She took Bill’s phone and interrupted Chad’s verbal self-flagellation. “Now that you’ve ruined my life and made it a living nightmare of epic proportions, what else can I do for you?”

  “Willow! You should be resting. I’m sorry—”

  “How are my animals?”

  Bill watched her features as Willow gave instructions and listened to Chad’s suggestions for visitors. She was integrating herself into the people of Fairbury. Before long, leaving would be unlikely if not impossible. He needed to find a way to encourage her to consider Rockland before her roots were firmly cemented into place.

  Willow handed him the phone. “They’re coming. Alexa is bringing Chad’s Aunt Libby, and he’s coming after the night mi
lking.”

  “I’ll stay until they get here and then go do a few things at the office.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  Bill interrupted her. “Don’t be. Just call me when they leave, and I’ll come back until Chad arrives.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  Bill’s eyes told her he did. “No one should be alone in a hospital.”

  Silence hovered between them. Bill dozed intermittently. He felt her fidgeting. “What’s wrong?” Bill didn’t even open his eyes. One hand slid across the blanket and captured her restless ones.

  “Your face. I’ve never seen you unshaven.”

  Unconsciously, Bill rubbed one hand along his jaw. “I’ll have to take care of that at the office.”

  “Does it itch?”

  He cleared his throat. “Not really—if I waited too long, it might.” Bill raised her hand and laid it on his jaw. “See.”

  “Oh! It really is prickly! Like—” She paused, thinking as she stroked his cheek gently. “Like—like Mother’s medium grit sandpaper.”

  “Better not let him kiss you then,” the nurse teased, as she entered the room for her vitals check. “Your face will be as raw as a chapped baby’s bottom!”

  “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Willow said, her voice a bit frosty. He winked at her, shaking his head.

  The nurse recorded several things on Willow’s chart, gave her a tiny cup of pills to down, and handed her the cup of water to wash down the pills. “We’ll take a look at that leg as soon as you’ve got that down.”

  Bill stood, gave her hand a squeeze, and stepped from the room. As he stepped through the door, he heard the nurse comment, “He’s a little shy isn’t he?” Her reply brought a grin to his lips as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “He’s considerate. A gentleman.”

  “He’s a good-looking guy too.”

  “He is, isn’t he?”

  “He didn’t have to leave—”

  Willow forced herself to smile at Libby. “I think he feels a little self-conscious.” Though she spoke confidently, Willow looked a little self-conscious herself as she remembered their hands intertwined on the edge of the bed as the ladies entered. The look in both women’s eyes—maybe Chad was right.

  From a large shopping bag, Alexa withdrew a wrapped box. “I hope you don’t mind, but I rewrapped it. Wes is a marvelous photographer, but his wrapping skills leave much to be desired.”

  “May I open it?”

  Alexa winked at Libby as she said, “Well it’s yours! Enjoy!”

  Willow’s fingers played with the ends of the sheer aqua ribbon of the package. A square box, wrapped in kraft paper, tied with the ribbon looked deceptively simple. She untied the ribbon, folded it and the paper beneath it, and opened the white gift box. The lid slipped to the floor as Willow pulled the photo album from the box with a cry of delight. A clear pocket in the front showed a picture of Willow’s eyes peeking over her enormous bouquet of daisies. Pure delight and happiness reflected in her eyes alone. “He took this?”

  “Wes is an incredible photographer. You won’t believe the pictures he has.”

  She opened the album and the first picture was of her and Lily Allen. “How…”

  “Telephoto lens. He had it shoved through the hedge.”

  Page by page, she relived the only birthday party she’d ever had. From the picture of her shouting “surprise!” to a delighted Lily, the final shot of Chad’s pick up with the bicycle perched in the back, the album displayed every moment of it. She relived the dance with Joe, her many dances with Chuck and Chad, and the final one with Bill. She felt the eyes of Alexa and Libby on her as she took a second glance at the picture. Had he really looked at her like that?

  The gift pile looked like a work of art, but a picture of a single daisy petal lying next to a cake crumbly fork captured her heart, holding it for a moment. “That—who would have thought you could take a picture of a dirty plastic fork and it turn out so breathtakingly beautiful?”

  Libby stopped her from turning the page. “Oh this profile of her blowing out that candle—how did he manage to get so little of her face in the picture? The detail—those eyelashes, her lips blowing. It’s incredible!”

  Willow had almost overlooked the picture. Pictures of herself rarely interested her, but Libby was right. It was more than great photography; it was art. “That is—oh I wish I had a picture like that of my mother—oh or a baby! Can you see a baby like that?”

  The morning passed lost in memories of a happier day. They scrutinized every picture, looking over each one multiple times, but each woman chose a different favorite. Alexa loved the picture on the cover of the album, but Libby chose one of Willow’s feet flying through the air as Joe spun her around at the end of a dance. Willow, however, returned after each perusal through the book to the picture of her seated with “her men.”

  “I look like I have some kind of secret. Chuck knows it, but Bill and Chad aren’t quite sure if they want to know.”

  Her lunch tray arrived, signaling for Alexa and Libby to leave. Libby hugged her and promised to stay with her the first few nights at home, and Alexa promised to bring her a new book after she returned home. At the door, Libby turned, retraced her steps, and gave Willow another long reassuring hug.

  “You’re going to be ok. We’re here for you. Alexa, Chad, your friend Bill—even Chad’s parents, Luke, Aggie—all of us. Anything you need, we’re here for you. Even if it’s just someone’s shoulder’s to cry on or someone to give you a big hug and tell you we love you.”

  “Your friends didn’t stay long. The nurse called me right at noon.”

  Willow glanced up from the album as Bill entered the room. “Oh, you’re here. Come look what Alexa’s brother gave me!”

  At the sight of the cover picture, Bill spoke without thinking. “I want one of those. That is the best—”

  Willow pulled the picture from the “window” before he finished. “Take it. Without those flowers—”

  Bill pulled the album from her grasp and reinserted the picture. “Wes is a professional. I can order one from him. Don’t destroy your gift on my account.”

  “But you—”

  Bill tipped her chin and held her gaze. “Just show me the rest of the photos.”

  He found several pictures that he wanted, but after her reaction to the first one, he kept it to himself. Chad would know how to get in touch with Alexa or her brother. The album showed hard copy of glimpses of the party still written on each person’s heart. How he did it, Bill didn’t know, but he wanted a piece of it nevertheless.

  “When I get married, I want Wes to be my photographer,” he mused absently.

  “You’re getting married?” Willow’s voice showed surprise and interest that he couldn’t interpret.

  “No—well, not anytime soon. You have to have a girlfriend, and then you usually need a fiancée, and then you can start thinking about weddings.”

  “Well is Ms. Chen available? She already cleans your house…”

  “Funny.”

  Willow’s eyes drooped and a sigh escaped. Bill removed the album from her and readjusted the pillow. Her IV trolley had wound the tubes around it enough that she couldn’t roll over onto her side so he unwound it and helped her get settled. In minutes, she slept—a faint snore escaping every minute or two.

  A physical therapist arrived and insisted on waking her, but Bill bullied him out of the room and demanded that Willow be allowed to rest. The nurses tried to side with the therapist, but after a call to the surgeon, things quieted back down. Each person that passed the room found Bill outside the door, almost as if standing guard.

  “Protective isn’t he?” one nurse groused to another.

  “Creepy and controlling if you ask me,” the second nurse retorted sending a pointed look in Bill’s direction.

  Bill’s expression never changed.

  Chad burst through the door that e
vening, but Willow was still asleep. “Sorry I’m late; I got here and suddenly felt very hungry, so I ate before I came in. Hope you weren’t waiting. How’s she doing?” His whispers made Willow stir, a whimper escaping as she moved her leg.

  Bill pulled Chad from the room and updated him on her morning, the physical therapy, and stressed his opinion that she needed a full night’s sleep before trying again. Stunned by Bill’s commandeering attitude, Chad made non-committal noises and thanked Bill for sitting with her before he turned back to her room, leaving Bill standing outside the doorway. Alone.

  As he sank into the vinyl make-into-a-miserable-excuse-for-a-bed chair, Chad saw the photo album. The picture of Willow and the daisies on the cover was enough to make him try to get comfortable in the chair with the album. The party was somewhat of a blur for him but each picture helped him relive it in a fresh new way. The paper daisies Cheri had strung around the gazebo and the tiny white lights that illuminated them—the pictures captured it all. He needed to thank Cheri for all the work she put into making it special. She must have been up for hours.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Willow murmured sleepily.

  “Hey, you’re awake. I hear you had a rough day.”

  She sighed. “Bill got a little protective from what I heard, but then again, I was so tired I’m not really sorry.” She smiled. “Physical therapy hurts.”

  “Cut muscles hurt.”

  “I concur.”

  They talked about the animals, how far behind she was, and the vegetables Jill had taken. Chad didn’t like the listlessness he saw in her eyes. Willow looked wilted. Never had she resembled her namesake more.

  “Ready to go home?”

  “Yes. I tried to get them to let me go tonight, but I guess because I don’t have a car or anyone living with me, they don’t want me to go until tomorrow. That,” she paused and winked, “and the fact that they want to torture me again with more physical therapy sessions.”