“Marianne thinks you walk on water and generate electricity while you do it.”
“Mom likes playing house out here for a few days at a time every now and then, but when it comes down to it, she’s happy to return to her mechanical servants and her stores.”
“Did you ever consider leaving when—” Emily stumbled over the word die and its synonyms. “It happened?” she ended lamely.
“My financial advisor wanted me to take a job offered to me at a store in Rockland.”
“Boho. Cheri told me about your children’s designs.”
“Right. Bill wanted me to come and then get to know him better…” Willow didn’t feel like explaining.
“And you just said no?”
“Emily, I would have suffocated in the city. I need fresh air, meaningful work, and I need to decide what I want and don’t want to do. If there weren’t people like me, vegetables would be obscenely expensive. Without people like you, when people like me slice through their leg with an old-fashioned scythe, they’d die. We need different people to do different things. I couldn’t stand your world and you’re not interested in mine. That’s okay.” She softened her words with another smile. “It’s really okay.”
A dim light shone in the living room window as Chad arrived home at two o’clock that morning. He had no doubt that Willow would be waiting for him, a sandwich ready and the living room fire blazing to warm him. Her internal alarm seemed to know exactly when to wake half the time, and the rest of the time, he knew she needed her sleep. Their life, almost from the time he met her, had slowly developed a perfect rhythm and harmony to which nothing he’d ever seen could possibly compare.
“I was wrong. I expected a sandwich, not stew,” he said as he entered the back door.
“I thought after all that turkey at dinner, you might want something different, but I can—”
As soon as Willow started to pour the stew back in the pan, Chad stole it, planting a kiss at her temple. “You are downright feisty.”
“And you like me that way, so quit fussing and eat.”
“How’d it go tonight?”
“Well, I found out Emily won’t be trying to move in with us.” His laughter erupted loudly enough to make her clamp her hand over his mouth. “Shh.”
“Not fond of farm life, eh?”
“You could say that. She finds the mud, manure, sweat, and unsterile environment revolting.”
“It’s so much more picturesque in one of those country life magazines, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted as she led the way to the couch. “Our magazines were never picturesque. They were realistic.”
“Well, the country magazines mom always got showed pretty stables with perfectly groomed horses and polished hooves. Kitchens that never saw berry canning or soap making. Just a nice Sunday dinner and cookies and milk on a school afternoon.”
Willow curled against him sleepily. “Well, she won’t be buying any goats anytime soon, that’s for sure.”
“Are Dad and Chris still planning to make it to the sales?”
“As far as I know. They’ll probably be up about the time you leave. Good buy—”
“Best Buy,” he corrected, amused.
“Whatever—they’re going there to buy some kind of camera…”
“Got it. Okay. I’ve got a list…” Chad fumbled through his pocket and handed it to her. “Give this to Dad, and don’t open it.”
“I take it you’re not making me that skein winder I asked for?”
As Chad drove back down the driveway on his way back to work, Willow heard the sounds of the men waking up and poured cups of coffee for them. Christopher entered the kitchen first and found Willow waiting for him. She passed him a piece of paper. “Chad’s list. I’m not supposed to look. I didn’t. Make sure he knows that.”
Chad crawled into bed at six-thirty—full, exhausted, and hoping his father was successful with the list. Willow’s journal lay open where she’d left it before she crawled into bed.
Black Friday,
This is what they call this day. While the country recuperates from overindulgence, they overindulge in other areas as well. In some ways, it seems to indicate excess in all forms of American society. Why else would it take until one month before the end of the year for some businesses to turn a profit? I cannot comprehend that.
However, when I see the excitement in Chad’s face, the grand elaborate schemes for hiding their plans from each other right under the very noses that they’re deceiving. It all has a delightful air of mystery about it. I don’t think it’d ever be my “thing,” but I love seeing the camaraderie between the men as they sally forth to slay the gift dragon in their quest to please a loved one. It’s almost gallant in a strange sort of way.
I spoke with Emily about our life here. I spoke confidently, and I hope, compassionately. I know I had—well, have—reallystrong opinions about the average American lifestyle. So much of it seems lazy and self-centered to me, but as Chad has pointed out numerous times, I’m just as self-centered in my own way.
It did make me wonder, however. Just how many of Chad’s dreams and preferences did he give up to marry me? Am I holding him back from… something? Did he choose this farm because that’s what it meant if he chose me, or did he choose me and got a blessing with the farm? Is it the blessing to him that it is to me? He never complains. He works just as hard as I do, and yet, why?
What did he give up to marry me, and would I have given up something that great and wonderful to marry him, whatever it was? I know he loves reading about my childhood, but did he really think about what it meant to choose the life that produced it? I think I am beginning to see just what an amazing man I have married. Even if this life was his first choice, he chose me to share it with him.
Me, with all my stubbornness, my… oh my. Wow. This man loves me. I know this, and when I think of it, does he have any idea how much I truly love him?
Mother prepared me for everything I could ever face in this life- except for how to share it with someone like Chad. The one area I need the most help in now is the one I am sure to fail. Lord please don’t let me fail him. Lord please give me the courage to ask about what he wants for his life- for our life. Prepare me for the answer I just maybe don’t want to hear.
Chad’s face settled into a lazy smile as he slid between fresh sheets that smelled faintly of lavender. His head sank into the softest pillow he’d ever used, and he pulled quilts and blankets over him that he knew had been made by his wife’s hands. His sweats and t-shirt appeared like clockwork in his drawers, always fresh and clean. The scent of the family’s breakfast slowly wafted up the staircase, but Chad’s stomach was already full and happy having come home to a breakfast he’d never get anywhere else.
“What do I want Lord? Remind me to tell her I want exactly what I have. Right here. Right now.” As he drifted off to sleep, Chad added one more thought. “Unless you wanted to add a baby or three into that mix. That’d be just about exactly right.”
Chapter 12 7
The long driveway home greeted him with artificial pine swags tied with red bows and lit with twinkle lights—she’d taken his advice and used the extension cord to the barn. Candles in the windowsill and lanterns along the porch lit the house making it look warm and welcoming. The upstairs windows had candles in lanterns like beacons on a hill. In all, it was a festive picture worthy of Currier and Ives. The only thing it lacked was a horse drawn sleigh rushing down the “lane.”
Chad loved nights like this. Off at six, dinner waiting with a house smelling like Christmas personified, and a bath towel hung by the upstairs woodstove, waiting for him to step out of the shower—the perfect recipe of domestic happiness. He remembered his first winter in Fairbury, the bare apartment, the boxed and canned foods, and the sheets he now realized probably were changed only once that whole season, were things of the past—a past he hoped never to see again.
He climbed from his truck wearily. I
t had been a long hard day. Fairbury rarely had more than a speeding or drunk tourist, but a domestic dispute that had gone south, a baby who had died of SIDS, and strung-out teenagers from Rockland who tried to rob the Fox theatre gave the Fairbury police enough drama to last them until the New Year. He wanted nothing more than to take a shower, relax, and let the stress from his job melt away in the haven of his home. Unlike his co-workers, tonight he wouldn’t flip on a television and see the ugliness of the world in his own living room as well. This had bothered him at first, but after months of news-free living, Chad was happy to get a recap of world events at work without all of the sensationalized local bits and bizarre horrors that punctuated the nightly news.
Willow sent him upstairs the moment he entered the house. The towel already hung from the towel rack Willow had installed as soon as cool weather set in. Fresh clothes waited for him on the closed hamper lid, and his favorite CD waited in a player, ready for him to escape for a few minutes. By the time Chad jogged down the stairs, the stress and grime of the day was washed down the drain, and Chad was ready to enjoy the next two days off.
“So, what do we need to do for Christmas?”
“It’s still two weeks away.”
“Ten days,” Chad corrected, “but who’s counting?”
“Your mother’s quilt is almost done; I just have to finish the binding. Cheri’s sweater is finished, Chris’ sweater is done, and your father’s afghan needs a lot more work, but it’ll be done in time.”
“What about my present? Are you done with it?”
“It’s wrapped, stored, and out of the way so you can’t peek.” She gave him a sly smile. “Is my skein winder done?”
“A skein whater?” He laughed at her mock indignation. The winder had been done for two months. What she didn’t know about was the hoosier Luke was making for her. There was a perfect place for it where the hutch was and the hutch would look wonderful on the wall next to the dining table. He couldn’t wait to bring it home.
“Hey, we can do whatever we want for the next couple of days, so what sounds good?”
“We should go snowshoeing one afternoon. The snow is so thick this year. I had to shovel the roof this morning.”
“Was it that bad?” Chad had never seen anyone have to shovel a roof in his life. He’d always assumed that was something reserved for Alaska or was an urban legend.
“Mother was adamant. If the snow was over fifteen inches and lasted more than a week, it had to go.”
“You could have fallen off of there!”
“Chad,” she began with forced patience in her tone, “I’ve done this my whole life. I think I know how to keep myself from crashing to the ground.”
“I guess you do. Now that the roof is clear, what do you want to do?”
“We could make Christmas cookies…”
“How about you bake, I eat?”
Willow tossed him a sassy glare. “I had a crazy impression that you wanted to do something new, but that’ll work too.”
“We could go into town and watch a movie…”
Shaking her head, Willow carried the dirty dishes to the sink. “Not interested.”
“We could go bowling…”
“I could teach you to knit and you could make scarves for all of Luke’s children.”
“Did I tell you?” Chad hesitated. “Aggie’s pregnant.”
Willow’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Really? Oh I bet she’s so excited! When—how far—”
“March.”
“Oh baby clothes! I’ve got to start making baby clothes! I need flannel and s—Wait. March? That means she’s been pregnant for…”
“Several months. Mom didn’t want to tell you, but I finally told her at Thanksgiving that I was telling you before Christmas if she or Aggie didn’t do it first.”
Confused, Willow shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”
“I think she was afraid you’d take it hard.”
Willow dropped the last dish in the drain, banked the kitchen stove, grabbed a plate of cookies from the shelf above the stove, and carried it into the living room, visibly trying to repress her irritation. “All this time I could have been excited for her, praying for her, sewing and knitting for her, but I’m supposed to take it hard, so I don’t get to know. I feel gypped.”
“We’ll go to the city tomorrow and buy all the yarn and fabric and anything else you could possibly need. You were busy with harvest and everything else anyway.”
“I guess so. I’ll write Aggie a note tonight, though. I bet she thinks I’m the worst cousin-in-law ever known to mankind.” She took a deep breath and met Chad’s eyes. “Don’t keep something like that from me again. It is a little insulting, but primarily I feel like you deceived me; you hid something from me because you or someone else thought the worst of me. I know,” she continued quickly seeing the objection on his lips, “it was meant for a kindness, but it still says that I’m petty enough after only six months of marriage, to be too full of my own disappointment in not being pregnant that I cannot rejoice with someone who is. That isn’t who I am, and I thought you knew that of me.”
December—
Aggie is pregnant but no one told me. Apparently, I am supposed to “take it hard” when a wonderful thing happens to someone else. I could understand if I’d been married for five years with no signs of children, and it was bothering me… maybe then… but I don’t understand why now. We haven’t even been married a year. Of course, I was surprised when Mother was pregnant after one horrible encounter, and yet with much, um, practice, I am still waiting. I don’t feel barren though—not yet.
How do I convey my disappointment to Chad? I feel betrayed by him listening to his mother on this. Mother’s lessons didn’t cover how to tell a husband—wow. I feel silly. No, mother didn’t tell me how to handle a husband, but Chad’s a person too. I keep treating him as though husband is the only facet to his personality. He’s a person, and when people disappoint us we confront it, forgive, and move on. I sort of confronted it. I need to forgive and move on. Two lessons in one. I feel quite educated this morning.
Chad is milking and feeding the animals. The chickens are racing around the yard like crazy. I don’t think they’ll be out there for long. I should have shot a turkey for Christmas. It’s too late to shoot one now and I don’t have anything for Christmas dinner except for roast. How can I make roast different and festive? Maybe we should raise a few turkeys as well. I’m not doing a pig though. That was disgusting.
Chad’s main Christmas present gets here this afternoon. He keeps trying to “do something,” but we can’t leave or we’ll miss delivery. I think I’ll send him to town for something- maybe dinner. I can “forget” dinner. I am so excited. If there is any one thing that Chad wants for this farm, I think I’ve found it. I hope it’s the right choice.
Baby gifts. Tomorrow we’re going to Rockland and buying all kinds of wonderful things for me to make little sweaters and booties and diaper sets… I have all the patterns mother bought but didn’t use for me. I can do it! It’ll be good practice for… someday.
At four fifteen, Chad bounced along the road with orders to bring home lasagna from Marcello’s. Willow loved lasagna but rarely asked for it and refused to try to make it. “Some things are perfection as they are.”
While Chad ran several errands, including shipping a box of scarves to Aggie’s children, Willow helped the deliveryman put his gift into the barn. She couldn’t wait to see what Chad thought of it! It was the most exciting gift she’d ever purchased.
Chad found her in the kitchen practicing “Away in a Manger” on her dulcimer. “Dinner’s here. Let’s eat.”
“Can you get me more milk from the barn while I cut?”
He rezipped his jacket and stepped back outside. Willow set the lasagna on the warming shelf of the stove, and pulled on her jacket, and stepped outside the second Chad’s body disappeared into the barn. He slammed into her just as she reached
the door. “Whoa. Merry Christmas.”
“I can’t believe you bought me a horse!”
“You keep saying that a horse is the only thing keeping this from being a ‘real farm,’ so…”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the horse’s stall. “He’s—”
“She… Lacey.”
Chad nodded. “She’s beautiful. What—”
“She’s two years old, a quarter horse and done whatever that means.”
“Dun. It’s her color.”
“They change colors for a while?” Willow was confused.
“You didn’t go through the horse stage when you were a girl, did you?” D-u-n. Dun. It’s the name of the color.” As he explained, Chad smoothed the horse’s neck, patted her face, and ran a hand along her back. “She’s just beautiful.”
“As I said, Merry Christmas. You have to buy your own tacks though.”
“Tack. I’ll look tomorrow while you’re buying up baby supplies.”
Reluctantly, Chad followed Willow to the house several minutes later. “Where did you find her?”
“I asked Terry over at the feed store if he could find me a good horse. He asked around and found Lacey.”
“This is going to make that skein winder seem awfully inadequate.”
“Of course it won’t!” Willow grinned, thinking she’d trapped him into admitting her gift. “It’s exactly what I asked for. What better gift could you get me than that?”
“I don’t know but I am going to feel pretty guilty come Christmas morning.”
She passed him a plate of lasagna. “Eat your dinner. Your horse might want a walk around the yard before you go to bed.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 4 Page 20