Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 4

by Chautona Havig

  “And then I think it’s time you learned a new game.”

  “What game?”

  Chad grinned. “Chess.”

  “Why do I have the feeling that you are very good at it? Mother never liked it so we didn’t play it.”

  “Well, I’m no Chris. He was the chess master. I was just his practice partner, but once in a while I’d win and I don’t think it’s because he let me.”

  As he went back out to the barn, Chad dropped a box and rule sheet in her lap. “Read through that a couple of times, and I’ll be back.”

  “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

  “I’ll make it when I come back in. You read.”

  Willow grinned as the back door shut behind him and opened the chess set setting up the pieces quickly. When Chad arrived, she grabbed the rules and forced herself to look engrossed in them as he brought steaming cups of hot chocolate. “Well, I’m ready to try, it but you’re probably going to have to help me…”

  “So if you and Mother never played, how did you beat me two games out of three?”

  “Beginner’s luck?”

  “Who did you play?”

  Willow winked as she set the pieces back into their places. “Me.”

  “You would.”

  Chapter 12 8

  “Let’s get it in the house first, and then I’ll take you out to meet Lacey. I’m going to have to take her over to Brant’s Corners and get Uncle Zeke’s friend to outfit her.”

  “I can’t believe she just bought you a horse.”

  Chad beamed. “Oh man, wait’ll you see her. She’s gorgeous, very good temperament and everything, but…”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Willow is terrified of her.”

  Luke’s jaw dropped along with the tailgate to his truck. “You’re kidding. Willow? She’s used to animals—big ones like cows even.”

  “Not big ones that want to be friendly.”

  The men tried not to chuckle as they stumbled through the yard with the hoosier. Every few feet they stopped, set it down, and then hoisted it once more. The steps were a bit difficult, but once through the door, the hoosier sat beautifully in the place Chad had planned for it.

  “That is just perfect. I can’t believe you got the flour hopper and everything. She’s going to love that!” As he spoke, Chad tied a huge red bow around the hopper and jerked his thumb at the corner. “Will you get me some tape from that drawer?”

  By the time Willow arrived back home after an afternoon of shopping with Cheri, Chad and Luke were walking Lacey around the yard on her lead. Cheri raced to hug the horse, but Willow just leaned against the porch and watched delightedly as everyone admired Miss Lacey. “Come on, Willow,” Cheri called as she led the horse closer to the house.

  “Let me get her a carrot.” Willow practically ran into the house as Cheri led the horse closer and closed the “safe” gap that Willow had painstakingly created.

  “She really does hate the horse,” Cheri remarked, as Willow disappeared into the kitchen. “What on earth?”

  “I don’t know but she will barely feed the poor thing.” Chad’s words were meant for Luke and Cheri, but his voice spoke to Lacey.

  Willow came outside with a handful of carrots and waggled one to catch Lacey’s attention. “There, girl!” With a powerful throw, Willow sent the carrot flying toward the pasture. Chad barely had time to let go of Lacey’s lead rope as the horse chased after the carrot.

  “What—I’ve never heard of a horse playing fetch!” Luke stared at the horse awestruck. “Then again,” he added, “there really is no reason why a horse wouldn’t if I’d ever thought of it.”

  “Well, she doesn’t fetch really. She just chases it.”

  Once Lacy knew where the carrots were, she hurried back to Willow, but Willow was ready. She tossed another carrot and the horse made an arc in the snow and raced after it. Chad watched as his horse, time after time, raced to the pasture to snag the carrot before trotting back for another one. When the last carrot was gone, she hurried to Willow wanting more.

  “No Lacey, they’re all gone. I don’t have any more! Lacey!” Willow backed away from the horse until she tripped over the back steps. Luke and Cheri erupted in fits of laughter, but Chad followed as she stumbled up the steps and escaped inside, Lacey standing with two hooves on the first step whinnying for her to bring out more.

  He pushed his way past the horse, and burst into the kitchen. “She won’t hurt you, lass.”

  “My head knows that, but my heart sends me running before my head screams loud enough to be heard.” She started to say more but the sight of a hoosier with a bright red bow stopped her. “What—”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “Did you and Luke—”

  He shook his head. “No, just Luke. I didn’t see how I could go work on it without you knowing.”

  To Chad’s surprise, Willow jerked open the kitchen window shouting, “Thanks, Luke!” before she turned around and threw her arms around him. “And thank you! I love it. Mother always talked about building one and putting it right there, but she never got around to it.”

  “I wish I’d had the tools and the time, but by the time I thought of it…”

  “It’s perfect.” She jerked her thumb at the back door. “Get out there with your family. I’ll make some hot chocolate and pull out the cookies.”

  Chad stepped out of the door and then popped his head back in to suggest that she make a few sandwiches and saw her running her hands over the smooth surface of the wood. Abandoning the sandwich idea, Chad slipped out the door smiling to himself. “I think that was a good idea,” he muttered as he hurried to return his horse to her stall.

  New Year’s Eve—

  Another year, another Christmas without Mother. It amazes me how things all stay the same even when they’re so very different. Mom Tesdall gave Chad and me the oddest looks when she saw our gifts for each other. I finally asked her what bothered her, and she commented that she didn’t know how we’d afford to keep giving each other such expensive gifts. At first, I was confused. I couldn’t think of what I had said or done that might give anyone the impression that I would always spend so much. This year, I spent what I’d earned with the garden surplus. It felt wonderful because I knew I was buying Chad’s gift with money I’d earned rather than Steve Solari’s money. But it turns out that it was another one of those things where I am weird again. Apparently, if you give someone a gift that costs fifty dollars this year, then next year you’re expected to keep the cost similar. I don’t understand that at all. I mean, what if the best gift for that person isn’t something you can buy? What if it is just something you can make and doesn’t cost much? Do you put an envelope in with it covering the monetary difference? It seems absurd. Chad says that his mom doesn’t understand how I think, but that I should just be me and not worry about it. People will always be happy with what I give them. I hope he’s right. I certainly don’t want to be rude. It’s amazing what is rude. I would have thought any expectations of a gift or its value would be rude.

  I spoke to Mom about the Aggie situation. I think I embarrassed her, and it made me feel badly, but at least she understands now that even if I had been disappointed that Aggie was pregnant when I am not (it still sounds so juvenile to write that!), it is worse to know that others hid their joy from me. Chad knows how I feel about how he listened to his mother, and he agrees that it put a distance between us that almost damaged our relationship. I was angry about it, but Chad reminded me that he’s never been married before either and only had his mother’s (usually good) advice to follow, so he did without thinking. Looking back it is easier for him to see why I was bothered. We both learned lessons on that one.

  Lacey is fitting in nicely with our other animals. I think she has decided that I am beneath her notice, which is fine by me. Chad still teases me about my fear of her, but that is one big, overly-friendly-if-she-likes-you animal! Her teeth are huge! So, we seem to have come to
a truce. She won’t come near me, and I give her lots of alfalfa, carrots, and apples and even oats, but Chad says too many oats aren’t good for horses. I always thought they were, but I guess not. He stirs blackstrap molasses and cod liver oil and I don’t know what else into the mix every few days. He rides her a few times a week and brushes her often. He keeps asking me to try brushing her, but I’m not going near her. Chad says I’m shooting myself in the foot, because soon she won’t listen to me. He thinks it’ll make it difficult for me ever to become “friends” with her. I don’t want to be friends with her, so that suits me just fine. I think Lacey and I have an understanding, though, so we’re good.

  Chad suggested that we build “roads” across the land from field to field and pasture etcetera, so that he can drive tools and things from place to place, and so that me dragging the cart around will be easier than going through grasses and things. I’m not sure how necessary it is, but if it makes it easier on Chad, I think it’s worth it. The work this year is going to leave less leisure time. I’m going to have to schedule things carefully and make sure I schedule occasional afternoons off. I am concerned about pregnancy. I mean, with the work we have planned, what happens if I get pregnant and am as sick as Chad says some people get? Even if I don’t, I could need clothes at just the time I won’t have time to make them or something like that. I have to plan for it all, even if it might not happen. I found plans for more strawberries in one of mother’s journals. She never did the berry hills that she’d planned, but I think I will do it this year. If I could sell enough to pay for the time invested in the plants… I think I’ll start seedlings tomorrow in the greenhouse if Chad can find seeds at the Feed and Seed.

  “Willow?” Chad’s voice broke through her reverie as she entered her thoughts into her journal.

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s almost midnight and you’re drooping.”

  “But I wanted to stay up until midnight like you said.” Her petulant tone told him she was exhausted.

  “You will. I’ve got a surprise, though. Come on.”

  Chad led her downstairs, insisted she put on her jacket, and then led her to the porch. “Cover your eyes and count with me. Open them at one.”

  A minute ticked by. Seconds. Finally, Chad’s voice started counting down from ten. “Five… four… three… two… one…”

  Willow’s eyes flew open and stared at Chad expectantly. Then, a burst of fireworks rose from the center of the yard and exploded into the sky. Colors reflected on the snow and sparks showered downward, fizzling as they touched the snow. A boyish delight in Chad’s eyes amused her as he watched her reaction to the relatively small display of pyrotechnics.

  “Happy New Year, lass!” he shouted from the yard.

  Laughing, she scooped a huge handful of snow from the porch railing and formed a snowball. As she tossed it at him, she screamed at the top of her lungs, “Happy New Year World’s Greatest Husband Ever!”

  Chapter 1 29

  March-

  We’ve had a thaw but it won’t last. It is unseasonably warm and that means mud. Things try to grow and die because they think they’re ready to weather life above ground, but as always, they’ll get a rude awakening. Chad just read that and laughed at me, but he’ll see that I’m right. Every time nature tries to blossom too early, storms, snow, frost, or something will come along and kill the tender plants. If only they would wait for their time. If, rather than rushing to pop out of the ground and be noticed for their early arrival, the plants waited for the dangerous times to pass, they would grow stronger, brighter, and smell sweeter than ever.

  Chad says that is a good analogy for some of the little girls at church. They try so hard to be “grown up,” and look the part, but in the end, there is nothing to look forward to. It is truly heartbreaking how jaded many little eleven-year-old girls are about relationships and life in general. I guess Chad is right. It is a good analogy. As breathtaking as a single red tulip is surrounded by snow, it is much more vulnerable to plucking than it would be had it waited for its sisters to bloom with it.

  Valentine’s Day was full of fun and surprises. Chad had flowers delivered to the house. I guess I never realized that Wayne at the Pettler would deliver flowers for me. What a fascinating business. Apparently, the other officers teased Chad about being cheap and unromantic because he didn’t send red roses. Who knew that is customary for every “romantic” occasion. Chad knows me well. The gerbera daisies he sent were bright and colorful, and I’m planning on growing a bunch myself now.

  Speaking of growing flowers, I sold a huge bunch of lavender to a woman from Brant’s Corners. Aggie called and said the woman wanted it for crafting and offered me much more than I would have imagined it is worth. That reminded me that we’d planned on the lavender rows along the driveway so I’ve started plants in the greenhouse for that. Chad says as soon as I give the word, he’ll plant them for me. How is it possible that Chad works for the police department, isn’t home half of his waking hours, and yet he manages to cut my workload significantly? I do much less work now than I did when Mother was alive and it’s not because Chad works non-stop or anything. Chad says I already wrote that in another journal entry. Well, it’s true!

  Portia is a big girl now. She works hard to keep everyone, including Chad and me, rounded up into nicely huddled masses, and of course, fails miserably when it comes to the human population. The barn cats have tried to subdue her, but alas, she tries to keep them in line anyway.

  I avoid what is truly on my heart. I need to get it out and deal with it, but I fear hurting those closest to me. It’s odd, in less than two years my thoughts have changed drastically. I would never have thought twice about reigning in my thoughts or words when it was just Mother and me, but as Chad likes to say in a tone that sounds broken hearted, I’ve been “civilized.” So here goes. I am not pregnant. I’ve been married for nearly a year and there is no sign of a baby on the horizon. The real problem is that, to me, this isn’t a problem. However, everyone around us seems to see it as something horrible. Well, those who want to see us with child. Another group—just as vocal—thinks it’s best that we wait a few years before starting a family. I don’t quite understand why either side is so concerned. Either we have a baby or we don’t.

  I was quite content to wait until it just happened, but even Chad is making noises like something is terribly wrong. He brought home several printed pages of articles on “infertility” and “trying to conceive,” and has been reading them diligently. From what I’ve read, I think everything in my body is working fine. I checked the temperatures, checked the gunk it told me to (revolting, by the way—I get Mother now), and basically, there’s no reason that I can see as far as the body goes, for me not to be pregnant so I think perhaps it’s just not time yet. God knows what He’s doing, and while Chad agrees, he’s not so sure we know what we’re doing. In the famous words of the local tween-agers. What. Ever.

  Willow shifted nervously in her seat as she filled line after line after line of what she considered increasingly evasive information. Much of it she couldn’t answer. She didn’t know if there was a family history of cardiac trouble, diabetes, cancer, or depression, but she did know that her mother died of an aneurysm, she’d had a tetanus shot within the past 10 years, and was not allergic to general anesthesia.

  This, however, was nothing compared to the abject misery induced by five innocent words spoken by the nurse when she called Willow’s name. “Willow Tesdall? This way, please.”

  From that moment on, Willow’s first visit to the gynecologist nearly became her last. From the backless paper gown, to the instruments of torture attached to the paper-covered table, to the ice-cold stethoscope that the doctor pressed against her chest through the paper, the invasion grew to epic proportions. Her eyes widened, her words grew more and more clipped and stilted until finally the doctor sat on the rolling stool next to her shoulder and patted her arm.

  “Are you always this tense Mrs. Tesda
ll?”

  “Willow. Please just call me Willow, and what do you mean?”

  “Well,” the doctor smiled reassuringly at Willow as he tried to make her more relaxed and comfortable. “You jump at any attempt to touch you—like I said, very tense—and I don’t know how I’ll manage to get a decent pap smear if this keeps up so—”

  “What’s a pap smear and why do I need it?”

  Dr. Walston pushed his chair back and stared at the nurse. After a few seconds, he glanced at Willow again and asked, “Is this your first gynecological visit?”

  “I think so. I’ve only been to the doctor for stitches once, when I sliced open my leg and got surgery, and I think that’s it. I was at the dentist once, though.”

  With a look at his nurse that spoke volumes, the doctor excused himself for a few minutes, while Anne explained the processes of an exam, what each test was for, and what the doctor would be doing. The fact that Willow did not grab her clothing and run is a great testimony to her love for Chad and her desire to understand if there was truly anything wrong with her. Although she was content to wait many years to see if God blessed them with children, Chad, somewhat pressured by family she suspected, was nervous about “wasting time” in not correcting anything that might need correction.

  Despite Nurse Anne’s very helpful preparation, Willow found the entire exam to be humiliating, invasive, and painful. She cried through the pap, the internal, and the chest exam. Dr. Walston tried to be as gentle as possible, but eventually seemed to opt for speed over comfort, once Willow assured him she’d prefer it to end the ordeal.

  In his office, Dr. Walston asked several questions that she could see he assumed Willow wouldn’t know, but to his surprise, she was prepared. From within her ever-present tote bag, she pulled a month’s worth of fertility information—enough to make any regular charter proud. He read everything carefully and then smiled.