A weak but definite edge of anger entered Chad’s tone. “To you? I did this for you. I imagined you here—”
Frustrated, she jumped up and spun to face him. “You want to do something for me? Fine. Get back to the hospital until they think it’s safe for you to leave.” Tears filled her eyes. “I cannot lose you. I’m not ready for that. I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”
“Willow—”
“This is horrible. You came home and I was so excited to see you. My stomach got all floppy on me, and I felt so happy and now I’m just sick. You’re going to get yourself killed. You’re going to let her win!”
“Willow,” Chad began again. “If I went back, you’d have to stay here. You can’t go near Rockland until the trial is over.”
This was it. She needed to make her point and then drop it but her natural desire for her own way made her fight for the exact words that would make him listen to her and return to the hospital. “Chad, you said you wanted me to tell you what I think so here’s what I think. I think that for someone who has harped on how selfish I am about stuff, you’ve topped it all. I stayed in that hospital, against my own preference, I went to those stupid physical therapy sessions because you insisted they were best for me. I think it’s time you listen to your own advice and get back where you kept me and for a much less serious injury.”
“Um, lass?” Chad’s voice sounded weak and confused.
“What?” She instantly regretted the snap in her response.
“Can you call Todd and get him to come back? I think you’re right, and I’d almost kill for more morphine right now.”
“Under one condition.”
“Anything.”
She retrieved her phone before replying, “You call me this time?”
“I’ll call. I didn’t want you to hear the pages for doctors…” It was as though knowing he was returning took all of his remaining strength.
Willow punched the numbers he gave her and waited for Todd to answer. “Hey, this is Willow. I have a husband who is ready to return to the hospital.”
“I thought you would. I’m parked at the end of the driveway. I’ll be right there.” The laughter in Todd’s voice made her smile as she snapped the phone shut.
“He’s coming up the drive as we speak.”
Chad grinned wanly. “Come here then…”
Chapter 11 8
Marianne called out for Willow as she roamed through the house. As she neared the kitchen, she heard Willow call out, “I’m back here, Mom!”
She found her daughter-in-law hanging clothes on the line, snapping each item from the basket briskly with a practiced flick of the wrist, before another clothespin appeared from the apron around her waist and attached it to the line. At the sight of a row of cloth pads, she winced inwardly. Willow had a beautiful life on her little farm, but that sight killed the romance of it for Marianne. Some things were just too earthy for people like her to handle.
“I brought today’s headline. I thought you’d want to see it for yourself.”
Willow reached for the paper and carried it to the back step. “Sniper Caught,” she read aloud to herself. “‘On Tuesday afternoon after a state-wide manhunt, the sniper who gunned down a Fairbury police officer on the courthouse steps last Wednesday was apprehended as he tried to leave the country out of O’Hare Airport in Chicago. Authorities credit having a picture at every terminal in every airport in the tri-state area with the success of catching thirty-nine year old Terrance Malcomb. ‘His passport was flawless,’ said airport security chief, Dean Tomlin. ‘If we hadn’t had that picture, he’d be out of reach by now.’ Mr. Malcomb is being transported to Rockland to answer charges of the attempted murder of Chadwick Tesdall of the Fairbury police who testified against his wife’s grandmother, Lynne Solari, just minutes before he was shot. A plea bargain is expected.’”
She looked up at her mother-in-law. “What does it all mean? I’ve never understood plea bargains.”
“He’ll get a lesser sentence for shooting Chad by testifying against Lynne Solari. With his testimony—especially if she’s the one who paid him to do it, there’s no way they won’t find her guilty.”
“So basically, he gets fewer spankings if he tattles.”
“Well,” Marianne conceded laughing, “that’s one way to put it.”
“Why can’t they just make him talk like they said they would me? Why—”
“The fifth amendment doesn’t allow it. Besides, he’s going to jail anyway. The only incentive they can give him is less time so they do it to ensure that they get the person behind it all.” Even as she spoke, Marianne knew it was fruitless. There was no way that Willow would understand the idea of a reduced sentence for cooperation. Right was right, wrong was wrong, and there was no gray area.
“But this is good, right? I mean, no one is trying to kill him or me or any of us anymore?”
“As far as we know.”
Willow squealed, hugged Marianne, and raced inside calling, “I’ve got to call Chad. Maybe I can come in to see him now.”
Marianne shook her head and reached for another shirt in the basket. She shook it out, attached it to the line, and reached for another. It was a satisfying feeling. The breeze flapped half-dry things around her as she worked, and by the time Willow raced outside carrying her purse and calling someone on her phone, Marianne had finished the job. It felt good. It felt very good.
“Mom, can you take me to him? Chad says I can come. They’re going to let him leave tomorrow anyway, so I’m staying overnight if I can get Ryder to take care of things.”
“Get your helper out here. I’ll go pack you a bag. You’ll need more than a purse to stay overnight, silly.”
Two hours later, Willow asked for directions to Chad’s room. The nurse at the station eyed her cautiously and then nodded. “You must be Willow. He’s in room 204. I cannot tell you how glad we are that you’re here.”
“Why?”
“Because your husband is driving us all nuts. He’s just cranky enough to make us want to kill him and charming enough to make it impossible. How do you live with that man?”
She shrugged, asked for help in finding 204 again, and this time, the nurse understood her and pointed to the correct corridor. “On the right. Two doors down.”
The curtain was drawn around Chad’s bed, and some woman on TV interviewed a college student caught writing papers for half the campus at an Oregon university. “Chad?”
“Oh you’re finally here. I thought Mom must have decided to push the car here.”
“The nurse was right.”
“How’s that?”
Willow’s grin was wicked. “You are grumpy.”
“I’ve hardly seen you for a whole week. What do you expect?”
Willow’s eyes filled with tears of relief. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been—” she hesitated. “Lonely.”
“Aw, lass, I missed you too. We’ll be home tomorrow. It’s going to be back to normal.” Chad’s eyes drooped sleepily. “I think they’ve got me on some kind of sleeping meds. I keep falling asleep.”
“Rest, Chad. I’ll go find something to eat. I skipped lunch getting ready to come here.” She didn’t want to go. The idea of leaving him just as she got there bothered her, but he obviously needed sleep.
“Just don’t stay away too long. You smell like home. I want to go home.”
Outside the door, Willow leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Chad looked terrible. His normally tan skin tone looked jaundiced and pale. The strength in his voice was gone, and she could see the pain in his eyes. It was time to get him home where there was fresh air, good food, and uninterrupted sleep. Willow remembered how little she’d slept during her hospital stay.
“Mrs. Tesdall? Willow?”
She forced her eyelids upward and met the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. “Yes?”
“I’m Dr. Shaiver. I’m very glad to see you here. We tried to get Chad to let you come, but he
didn’t think it was wise.”
“I think he’s crazy. My grandmother isn’t out to kill me. I’m not a threat, but Chad sees it differently.”
“Well, having you here will probably help his recovery immensely. He’s been quite down.” The doctor’s smile was as sympathetic as his eyes were kind.
“Well, I think once I get him home tomorrow, he’ll do better.”
“I’m afraid not.” Regret filled Dr. Shaiver’s voice. “I just got the x-rays back. His lungs are trying to fill with fluid and his hand has a displaced bone. We’re not sure how that happened, but it has to be corrected.”
Something in the doctor’s tone bothered Willow. “Can you tell me if I should be concerned about him? Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s not doing as well as I hoped for. I want to blame it on his checking himself out early, but I think that just set him back a bit. I don’t think it actually caused him any further injury.” He rested his hand on her arm comfortingly. “I truly think it would be best if you could stay. His concern for you and how much he misses you is impeding his progress.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
Dr. Shaiver turned to answer a page and then did an abrupt about face. “That man sure loves you.”
Willow spent the next hour arranging for Ryder and Caleb to take over the farm while she was gone. Todd Blankenship agreed to stay there to keep Portia company, learn how to do things to help out the boys, as well as shuttle Willow back and forth every couple of days. By the time Chad awoke, she had it all arranged.
“So, he wakes.”
“Oh, thought I’d dreamed it. I’m so glad you’re here.”
The doctor’s last words filled her mind once again. An unfamiliar warmth flooded her heart. Sitting there beside his bed, she remembered the hours he’d sat with her in the same hospital. The work he’d done on his few free hours in order to ensure her crops weren’t wasted, and the way he’d come back, against her wishes, in order to be a friend to someone who had been so ungrateful as to push him away—it choked her. It was both amazing and terrifying, and the pressure in her chest felt wonderfully smothering. It made no sense. She couldn’t breathe but was so happy; she truly didn’t care. Chad loved her.
Tears spilled from her eyes as emotion overflowed and spilled onto her cheeks. An overwhelming sense of love and affection welled inside her as she realized that he’d loved her long before he knew or admitted it to himself. Willow brushed away silly tears as the realization struck her that she too loved her husband just as any husband should be loved by the one whom they promise to cherish for the rest of their lives.
“I’m in love,” she whispered. “Wow.”
Chad stirred. A weight on his uninjured hand felt odd, and he started to struggle but the weight moved. One eye crept open and then a smile broke over his face. The bed rail was down, a stool was pushed up next to the bed, and Willow half laid over him holding his hand in both of hers as she slept.
Clumsily, he stroked her hair with his bandaged hand. He slowly shifted to lie on his “good” side and watched her face as she slept. The stirring of her hair gave him occasional whiffs of lavender making him want home more than ever. The past week had been packed with surgeries, nurses’ interruptions, a constant flow of visitors, and he was exhausted from all of it. All he wanted was to go home, curl up in his own bed, and sleep for a month.
Willow looked so young to him. How was it that someone so confident, so wise, could look like a child when she slept? Every second that passed felt like a pound lifted from him just having her there. Nothing would help him more than having Willow looking out for him.
“Hey,” he whispered as the one eye he could see opened. “I fell asleep on you. I’m sorry.”
“You needed your rest.” Emotion welled in her eyes, crumpling her features until tears flowed again—again. Had she cried when she arrived? He couldn’t remember it, but why had he thought—again?
“Hey, hey, shhh… what’s wrong?”
Willow tried to fight back the tears but every attempt was swallowed by a fresh burst of weeping. Her shoulders shook and deep wracking sobs erupted, sending Chad into a confused panic; his attempts to soothe her only made it worse. “I’m sorry— I don’t know—”
“Shhh… it’s ok. It’s going to be fine,” she choked.
“I missed you—” but a fresh round of weeping cut off her words.
Not knowing what else to say, Chad soothed her and whispered, “Just cry it out. You’ll feel better. I’m so sorry—”
“No, I’m not sad!” The sobs made her words sound ludicrous, and she snorted a chuckle before collapsing once more. Tears soaked the bed, his hand, and her arm, until Chad reached for a Kleenex and stuffed it under the mound of hair that now hid her face from him.
“Aw, what is it?”
Several minutes passed. A nurse passing by stepped in to see what was wrong, but Chad sent her out without a word. Still, the torrent of tears continued unabated until she finally sobbed out whatever had hurt her so deeply.
Finally, she held her hand out for a fresh wad of Kleenex and raised her head. “I’m sorry. How silly of me.”
“Are you ok?” Chad’s hand cupped her face tenderly and tried to read some reason for her meltdown in her expression.
“I was just so happy to see you again. I missed you more than I realized.” She kissed his hand absently as she spoke. She blushed.
“I don’t understand—”
“I’m beginning to—finally,” she whispered, almost as if more to herself than him.
“Care to share?”
Willow smiled into Chad’s eyes, kissed him, and then whispered, “I love you.”
Chapter 1 19
Fabrics lay all over the rolling table by Chad’s bed. As he slept, she sketched, but nothing appealed to her. Idea after idea crossed off the list before she tried again. The nurse stepped in and peeked over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with those? They’re cute.”
“They look like—” How did you tell someone that what they just called “cute” was ugly? “I just think they look like I put a bunch of interesting elements together rather than designed a nice outfit.”
The woman, Jade, nodded. “Ok, I can see your point. I mean, I still think they’re cute, but if you have to create several looks, then you’re right. It won’t work—no cohesion.”
“Thank you! That’s the word I was looking for.”
Jade pointed at Chad. “How many times has he been up walking this afternoon?”
“Twice. I couldn’t get him up the last time. After this surgery, his hand seems worse than ever.”
“Good. Maybe they got it then.” Jade pointed to the scar across Chad’s cheek. “You really should let them do something about that while they can.”
She shook her head. “No. Chad wants to leave. If he doesn’t mind the scar, I sure don’t.” Willow smiled to herself. “I think it’s kind of attractive—makes him look almost dangerous in a—way.”
“Sexy is the word, I believe. Yeah, he pulls it off.”
Irritation crept into her heart, and it took great self-control not to tell the woman to keep her eyes off Chad if that’s how she was going to think of him. “I think so.”
Jade recorded whatever she needed to and turned to leave. “He needs to walk more when he wakes up. He should be out of here by now.”
“That’s what we keep telling the doctor.”
“Well, if he’d quit getting these infections…”
Willow sighed. Surgery, pneumonia, infection—it all hit Chad one after another. He’d been in the hospital for three weeks—three. She just wanted him home. Before she could think of some way to respond without antagonizing a woman who did try to help, Jade pointed to her sketchbook.
“Hey, maybe you need a theme. You know, retro-fifties or Woodstock, or something international like Nordic or something.”
“Theme…” Willow stared at the page, trying to imagine what she could do with themes.
“Ok… hmm… thanks.”
Her pencil scratched over the page. She crossed out even more outfits than ever, but she could feel it—success loomed. Second after second passed, new ideas flowing and failing faster with each one until she thought she’d go crazy. The Nordic idea was too wintery for a spring line, so she’d tried Swiss, German, Irish—and then snickered when she realized that everything she tried had a lederhosen feel to it. All wrong for spring in Rockland.
What made Boho Chic such a popular store? As she thought about it, she realized that she had been working backwards. The fabric should dictate some of the design anyway. Setting her sketchpad aside, she rearranged pieces until she liked the combinations. The solids and prints that would match everything she set aside. Those would do for separates to go with the others. Spring and summer. One fabric seemed to beg for a dressy ensemble. She chose a dress for that one and held it, allowing the fabric to drape, hang—ripple as she waved it in the air. The sketch took little time at all. When Jade stepped back into the room with a new IV bag, she nodded approvingly. “If that goes with that fabric, it’s perfect. I want one for my niece. Where do I buy one?”
“Boho Deux—next spring. I’m almost caught up—once I get done with these.”
“You’re that Willow? I saw the article about you!”
“I’m going to design them all around this one. It’s almost a thirties influence, don’t you think? Clean lines, little feminine touches, but not fussy. With those fabrics…”
“Like I said. I want that one for sure.”
It took her an hour to sketch out two skirts, another dress, and a semi-skort that had a fun twist she wanted to try for herself. She sketched a couple of simple tops with small details to separate them from generic clothes from a department store and surveyed the line. It needed two or three more bottoms and another dress. Willow smiled. She could start drawing patterns if Todd would bring her basket and roll of interfacing. A glance at Chad, still sleeping, was all the encouragement she needed.
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 4 Page 14