As she stepped out of the room, Jade’s head snapped up. “Is everything ok?”
“Great. I just need to make a call—didn’t want to wake him up.”
Taillights blinked in the afternoon sun as Christopher and Marianne drove away from the farm, back to Westbury. Willow watched, Portia’s tail thumping rhythmically against her leg, until the occasional blink of the brakes disappeared over the hill at the curve. A new appreciation for the amazing institution of family welled in her heart. She would never have imagined how difficult it would be to get Chad into the house and up the stairs. Her eyes swept the landscape as a lump swelled in her throat. In two weeks, home had somehow become dearer to her than ever.
She pulled out her phone and called the boys, assuring them that she had everything covered. She wanted nothing more than to feed chickens, milk goats—ok, goat—and check the garden. Weeds, tomato worms, zucchini. She strolled toward the back of the house and stared down at her shoes and skirt. Change first, work later.
Chad’s light snore encouraged her as Willow crept into their room. He hadn’t snored once at the hospital. In fact, he hadn’t stirred since they’d dragged him up the stairs and settled him in bed. She grabbed shorts, blouse, and socks.
The garden looked amazing. She wandered through the rows, admiring Ryder’s work. Weeds—there were none. Tomato worms—not a single one. Almost a year since her own injury kept her from working—how had she forgotten the gratitude she felt for all Chad’s help?
Chickens, however—chickens needed food. She scattered the scratch across the yard, delighting in the squawks and clucks—the percussion of the soundtrack of her childhood. “Dinner, the cow wonder,” lowed as she dumped the trough and refilled it with fresh—just because she could. Sheep bleated, but Ditto sang the final song.
Milk filled the refrigerator—soap time. After two weeks of nothing but hospital rooms, bland food, and contaminated, recirculated stale air, home and all the work it entailed never felt better. She reached for a basket, but her cellphone rang—a new song blasting from her pocket with a man singing how he just wanted to go home. Had to be Chad.
“Hey… you’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I know. I just woke up, and I’m starving.”
“You need good food.” She snatched the basket and ran for the greenhouse, Portia loping beside her.. “I’ll make a salad for you to munch on while I find something to fix.”
“Sandwich is fine.”
“No bread. I’ll bake some just as soon as I get you some food. Hey, what about breakfast? Eggs, pancakes, sausage, hash browns? I could do biscuits and gravy too.”
“Do that and skip the salad—but don’t do it all. I can’t eat all that.”
A lump filled her throat. It was true. He couldn’t. “My job is to get you back to where you can. I’ll be up in a few.”
She dropped the lettuce she’d picked into the basket and hurried back to the summer kitchen, telling Portia all about the great dinner she had planned. “He won’t eat enough—not now. You’ll have a good dinner tonight, girl.”
Sausage patties sizzled on the stove, defrosting as they cooked, while Willow went to get eggs, tomatoes, onions, and a bell pepper. In the house, she mixed biscuits and set them on the cookie sheet before carrying them out to the summer kitchen—no need to heat up the house while Chad was trying to rest. Was it hot up there now? Maybe he would like a fan. She’d ask.
Portia nearly went crazy as she carried two plates from the kitchen, across the yard, and into the house. She took the stairs two at a time, the forks rattling against the plate, and opened the door to their room, feeling very much like a waitress with one in the crook of her arm and one in hand. “Breakfast for two?”
“That is the first food that has smelled good in so long—so long.” He winked at her. “I could even drink Ditto milk.”
“Good, because it’s that or water. Don’t have anything else—wait. I do have Sprite…”
“Gross.”
She stared at him. Setting down the plates, her hand reached for his forehead, but it felt fine. Chad laughed and pulled her close. “I’m not delirious, lass. I just don’t like the idea of Sprite with eggs.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Smart man.” He kissed her, lingering longer than either had allowed themselves in the hospital. “Scruffy one too,” she whispered.
“I’ll shave the minute I get a full night’s sleep. Even if I have to get you to bring my cordless here and do it from bed.”
“You’ll be fine. You have to stand and walk. Doctor’s orders. You are not going back to that hospital.” She thrust the plate into his hands. “You had us worried, Chad. You were there over two weeks longer than necessary.” Overcome with repressed emotion, she choked and kissed his forehead before adding, “Now eat.”
“Yes’m.”
“Now he learns respect.”
One third of his omelet, one biscuit sopped in gravy, one-half of a sausage link, and three gulps of milk with hardly a wince. She considered it good. Chad apologized. “Wasted your time and that good food—”
“Portia appreciates it.”
Perspiration on his upper lip answered the question of over-warmth. She set her plate on the end of the bed, grabbed his, and carried it downstairs. The breaker was already on, so she hurried back upstairs and plugged in the fan, moving it to the foot of the bed where it would blow directly on him. “That better?”
“How’d you know?”
“A wife does not reveal her secrets.”
“Mom has been reading those marriage books again.”
“How did you know?”
“That sounded like some psychobabble thing—not like my lass.”
Willow laughed. “She kept sharing her ‘nuggets’ with me. You wouldn’t believe some of the things in them. One of them said that if a woman wants her husband to feel respected, she should find something to admire in everything he says or does—no matter how ridiculous.”
“Well, he might feel his ego stroked, but how is that respect?”
“Exactly! I told your mom that the author’s advice would damage a good marriage and destroy a bad one. She didn’t get it until Dad said, ‘She’s right. Most men are smart enough to know when they’re being patronized. It’s an insult.’”
“I can’t believe Mom bought that garbage.”
“I finally got it out of her,” Willow said, polishing off the last of her sausage and wishing she hadn’t given Chad’s to the dog. “I think she saw it as finding something good to appreciate but not to hide the bad. It was just worded in a way that sounded like you only acknowledge the tiny bit of good and let the bad damage the family.”
His eyes had already glazed over. “I don’t follow. Why would my mom—”
“Let’s say you decided we were butchering all the animals for fertilizer.”
“Nauseating.”
“Agreed,” she conceded. “But I saw the book as saying to praise your wisdom in seeing that the crops needed to be fertilized while ignoring the ridiculous idea you have.”
“And Mom…”
“Mom said that she thought it was saying to praise your wisdom in seeing that the crops needed to be fertilized before adding that I would prefer you research to be sure that animal carcasses are appropriate and affordable fertilizer choices because my understanding is that manure and organic compost is more effective and more economical.”
Chad nodded. “Cushion the blow. It would be a bit easier to swallow than, ‘Look, you idiot, you’re not killing the animals when we can use their excrement and have the animals too.’”
Willow snickered. “I’d say that, wouldn’t I?”
“Maybe not the idiot part—”
Snickers turned to guffaws as she shook her head. “I’d say that first and you know it.”
“Positive thinking?”
“Positively not thinking.” Willow winked, grabbing her plate. “Get some more sleep.”
Chapter 1 20
&nbs
p; August—
He’s home. I cannot believe he was gone for so long. The final surgery was successful. The doctor says he’ll have full use of his hand, but that it’ll take work to make it strong again. He’s been target shooting with both hands and is determined to get back on track. He can’t go back to work until mid-September according to Chief Varney. Even then, he’s going to have to run some kind of obstacle course first. Chad called it a PAT which he says stands for Physical Agility Test. The way he said it, I can’t decide if it was a joke or if that’s what it is really called. He said he had it “down PAT,” so I can’t tell.
The first two weeks at home were enough to drive us both crazy, but now he is working on some kind of strange project. I’m not allowed to go out front, and anything that needs to be done out there he does. I don’t really know what is going on, but he’s happy, and that’s such a nice relief that I am trying not to be frustrated with covering my eyes whenever we go somewhere or come home. Oh, and I miss seeing my flowers.
In June, and now this month, he watched the calendar closely, and he was disappointed each time I pull out the basket of monthly pads. I cannot decide, however, if the disappointment is because it’s another week “apart” or if it is because it means no baby. Either way, I find it kind of cute and very funny.
I think I need to suggest some kind of party. Maybe we can do something the first weekend of October if he has it off as kind of a “celebrate going back to work and all the fruits of our hard work around here” kind of thing. We could have roasted corn, and he could grill those hamburgers he loves so much. (And I can have one without hearing, “told you.”)
I hear him calling me. It’s an amazing thing. For so long I had no one who called me to see what they were doing or to help them with something. Now I have that again, but it’s even better now. Now just hearing him call for me gives me such a warm feeling in my heart. That might be why I’m still writing and not running to make sure he hasn’t cut off his other hand…
“I’m coming!”
Chad’s voice boomed up the stairs, “You’re not coming fast enough, woman! I’m finally done!”
At the bottom of the stairs, Willow sat on the last step, crossed her arms, and looked up at him. “Make me.”
He stormed out the door, charged down the front steps, and disappeared. Seconds later, he stood in front of the screen with hose pouring water all over the porch and grinned. “Get out here, or I douse you and half the house.”
“You wouldn’t!”
He reached for the screen handle, but Willow jumped and raced to beat him. “You win!” She stopped at the screen and stared at the hose. “Toss the hose, buster.”
Chad leaned closer letting the hose touch the wooden accents of the screen door and then flung it behind him. “Come on, lass. I’m finally done with your gift.”
“Gift?” She pressed her nose to the screen trying to see outside. “What you’ve been doing is a gift for me?”
“I missed your birthday.”
“You were in the hospital! Of course, you missed my birthday,” she protested.
“Better late than never?” He swung the door open and waited for her to step out on the porch. She glanced around the yard, into the pasture, checked the paint, and finally turned to him and shrugged.
“I don’t get it.”
“Look again. Your favorite place out here.”
Her eyes immediately sought the porch swing and almost glanced away again, but something wasn’t right. She took another step and then giggled. “Oh my word. You didn’t.” A fresh set of giggles erupted as she stepped closer to the porch swing. “How on earth?”
“I thought it should be more comfortable for you on your late-night snoozes.”
“But we can’t sit on it!” The swing-bed was amazing, but dismay filled her heart as she imagined sitting with her legs stuck out in front of her awkwardly.
“Oh, but look!” Chad hurried to the swing, pushed back two brackets, and the new portion of the swing hung free. “I only added fifteen inches and it’ll need a new pad…”
“That’s amazing!” Willow lifted the “leaf” of her swing, pulled the slides forward to support the new base, and grinned. “I love it!” She threw her arms around him knocking him into the window.
“If I’d have known I’d get attacked again, I would have given you one of Wayne’s daisies.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Nope. Not true. You would have built it faster…”
The Friday before Labor Day, Chad woke up, shaking Willow excitedly. “I have a great idea!”
“What? Huh? Are you okay?” The dark sky outside her window told her it was still very early.
“I want to go somewhere. I have two more weeks of time off. I’ve gotten good enough at shooting to pass the PAT. Let’s go somewhere!”
Willow struggled to sit up and clear her head. She pulled her hair from the braid and reached for a brush as she tried to follow Chad’s early morning ramblings. “Go where?”
“I don’t know—somewhere different. We could go to Jamaica, or hmm… maybe Hawaii since you probably don’t have a passport.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Passport?”
“Right. Hawaii—or better yet, California! California is really diverse. They have the ocean…you’ve never seen the ocean.”
“No, I’ve never seen the ocean; that’s true.”
“And the mountains, and desert… they’re all like an hour or two apart. You go from ocean, to mountain to desert. It’s amazing. We could fly out, rent a car, and just tour the state. All those missions…”
Willow dropped her brush. It hit her knee, causing an immediate reflex kick. “Are you serious? You want to go to California just like that? What about the animals and—”
“Can’t we get Caleb to sleep out here for two weeks? He did great while you were in the city…”
As she considered his suggestion, Willow played with the brush. Work wasn’t something you just delayed or ignored so that you could enjoy a two-week whim in another state. There was so much to do before winter. The idea that they could just pack up and go seemed absurd and yet… She glanced in his eyes and saw the excitement—the eagerness. He wanted to go so badly, and if there was one thing Chad never did, he never asked anything of her. He gave and gave until she forgot how much of his old life he’d left behind him when he joined her on the farm.
“So how long would we be gone and when would we leave?”
“You’ll go?” He shook his head. “Wow. I—I was sure you’d say no. I just kept thinking of you in the ocean, hiking in the mountains, chasing lizards—you would definitely chase lizards.”
“Of course, I would. Who wouldn’t? You really want to go?”
He paused before murmuring, “More than anything.”
“If I can get them to come get Ditto and take away Dinner… it’d be too much to deal with all of it when I got back. I doubt I’d enjoy the trip if I knew I had that to do when I got home, but I could butcher the chickens today, and if they could come get the animals by Tuesday we could go on Wednesday. I think.”
“I’ll make reservations, find suitcases, and…”
Willow didn’t hear much else he said; her mind was already planning phone calls, clothing, and replanting in order to leave on time. By the time breakfast was over, she’d made a list of things to do and calls to make and wrote another one of all necessary items for a trip. Chad drove to town to use the library’s internet to order tickets. He arrived home by lunch with tickets and luggage and the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face.
“What’d you get done?”
“They’re coming for Ditto this afternoon. I guess they had a delivery later today anyway and had to drive right by. I’m glad I called early. Mr. McFarland can’t come until Tuesday afternoon, and Lily said Caleb could stay out here if Ryder could stay too.” She hesitated. “I think she’s afraid that grandmother Solari will hire someone to k
ill me at my house, and he’ll somehow be mistaken for me.”
“Well, he looks so much like you. I mean, take away six inches, forty pounds, and a head full of hair and you’d be twins—almost.”
Chad passed their itineraries across the kitchen table. Willow reached for them tentatively and then glanced up at him. “We’re really going?”
“The money is spent now, we have to go.”
“Aww… isn’t that too bad? What rotten luck.” Willow winked and passed him a sandwich.
Why Chad didn’t think about Willow’s reaction to air travel was something he pondered for years to come. He was used to thinking about her reactions to new and unusual things—well, unusual to her. However, perhaps due to lingering effects of various drugs and anesthesia in his system, the lack of sufficient exercise, or because he’d gotten word that the trial was almost over and would probably have a verdict sometime while they were gone, Chad entered the airport blissfully clueless of her trepidation. He did not prepare her for security checks, baggage checks, and long waits in lines. He did not prepare himself for her reaction to them.
Receiving their boarding passes was a simple process that unfortunately kept the warning bells from sounding. However, the line through security solved that problem. The airport was packed and the lines long. Bored passengers stood in their own little worlds, some talking on cellphones, others checking their watches or phones as though the minutes would magically convert to seconds by sheer ocular suggestion. Willow took it all in wordlessly.
As they neared the checkpoint, Willow’s eyes widened as a woman was escorted aside and patted down thoroughly. “What are they doing to her? Someone needs to stop them!” Her voice grew louder with each word. The other passengers stared in amazement as she nudged Chad insisting that he go to the woman’s rescue. “You’re an officer, do something.”
Chad cringed as a TSA agent tossed a dirty look in their direction before waving his wand over the body of a teenager with more spikes in her body than a campground of tents. “Shhh. Willow, it’s what they do. It’s their job. It’s for our safety.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 4 Page 15