Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 4

by Chautona Havig

  “It is very strange to be watching a laptop boot up by candlelight,” David remarked amused.

  “I guess it is. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “You wouldn’t, I suppose,” he agreed, smiling. His granddaughter looked so much like his mother, and yet he’d seen pictures of Lynne Solari and the resemblance between them was uncanny. How could two women who looked nothing alike have a granddaughter that clearly resembled both of them?

  “How is Grandmother? Is she over the flu yet?”

  “Just a slight residual cough. This is the first time she’s gotten the flu from the shot, but she says it isn’t as bad as getting it without one so I guess we’ll keep getting them.”

  “Well, I’m glad she’s better. I could have these babies any time and she promised to sit with Mom and hold them while I sleep. I plan to get lots of sleep when I get half a chance.”

  “She’s all ready to go. Has a bag packed as if she was having the babies herself. She even has one of those journals you made her all ready to write down her first thoughts as a great grandmother.” He paused. “You know, she’s been writing down everything she can remember that has happened since we lost your mother. She wrote about Kyle’s graduation, his marriage, the grandchildren, everything. It has been amazing to see all that has happened in our lives.”

  “You read it?”

  He blushed. “Well, she said I could…”

  “Chad reads mine several times a week. It’s a great way for us to make sure that he knows what is going on around here. His hours mean that sometimes things happen that I thought I told him and then wham, nope. I didn’t.” She blushed. “Like yesterday. He came home ready to butcher the chickens, but I’d already done them. Boy was he relieved.”

  “He doesn’t like butchering?”

  “Not chickens!”

  Something didn’t make sense to David. “What, not that I’m not interested mind you, but what does that have to do with the journals?”

  “Oh, I keep doing that,” she muttered exasperatedly. “He came in to ask me about it, but I was sleeping so he opened my animal journal and saw how many I butchered, how I prepared them, and who we should call to have them come get them. He made calls instead, which is fine by me. I really do not like the phone.”

  “Carol mentioned something about that the other day.”

  “I didn’t realize I’d told her. I didn’t mean to. It’s the easiest way to keep in touch.”

  “Oh she just said that you always seemed more at ease in your letters or when she visits.”

  “I feel guilty sometimes,” Willow confessed, “for not coming more often. She must get tired of the drive.”

  “Actually, I think she enjoys it.”

  He watched helplessly as Willow struggled to pull herself to a standing position and adjust her center of gravity. She shuffled to the woodstove, opened the door, and peeked in. The coals, after a little adjustment, made a perfect bed for a new log, before Willow slammed the door shut on it once more. David followed her to the kitchen where he watched the process all over again.

  “It’s work just keeping the house warm, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a good work. It feels good to accomplish something so important with such ease. I mean, I spend two minutes and our house stays warm and toasty for a couple of hours. It’s really quite amazing. I’ll be back down in a minute. It’s time to light the upstairs stove.”

  Watching her climb the stairs was more painful than he could have imagined. She looked like she was twelve months pregnant and carrying triplets—both. She’d given up trying to wear anything remotely attractive and settled for house gowns that hung from the shoulders and covered her.

  These visits were hard for him. He came because it was right and because he loved his daughter. Whatever mistakes she’d made, she’d done it to spare them. She’d sacrificed her happiness and ease in order to protect them, and he worked hard to remember that, but unlike his wife, Willow wasn’t a link to Kari, she was the thing that had ultimately torn Kari from them. Though he truly didn’t blame Willow, he did find it hard to connect with her across the chasm that Kari’s disappearance created.

  He glanced at his watch. Twenty-five minutes. Surely he could leave in another twenty minutes. After all, he was just stopping in after a business meeting. A quick visit… She wouldn’t expect him to stay for dinner. Would she?

  Suddenly, her cry sent David flying up the stairs faster than he’d imagined he could move. The sight of her leaning against the woodstove, her palms flat against the metal alarmed him, until he realized the door was open and there were no flames inside. “Are you ok?”

  “Towel,” she gasped. “Please. Cupboard behind me.”

  He grabbed a fluffy white towel and passed it to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can you call Chad? I need him to come home.” Her knees buckled for a moment before sheer willpower forced them straight again. “Now,” she growled before a low moan escaped.

  “Where do I call? What’s his number?”

  She stared at him blankly as if the question made no sense before she wailed, “I don’t know. Station. Call the station.”

  Within minutes, David was informed that Chad was in court and his cell phone off, but they would send someone in to get him. “He’ll come soon, Willow. What can I do?”

  “Help me downstairs. Please. I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

  The trip downstairs was slow and tedious. Every step left her gasping and panting for air, until David was certain she’d give birth in the living room. Once she reached the bottom, Willow sent him back upstairs for fresh towels to sit on. Every errand, no matter how small, sent him racing to help, until there was nothing left for him to do but wait for Chad to arrive. All ideas of leaving were gone now. He could never leave her alone like this. His daughter had been alone in labor, but his granddaughter would be spared that pain at least.

  She whimpered with another pain causing his heart to contract with it. “Would it help if I rubbed your shoulders?”

  Willow shook her head and then hesitated. “Um—”

  “What, sweetheart. What can I do? I want to help if I can.”

  “My lower back. It’s what really hurts. Would you rub that?”

  One hand pushed stray tendrils away from her damp forehead while the other rubbed her lower back until he thought it would go numb. Somehow, he managed to apply firm pressure to just the right spot.

  “Oh that feels good.”

  “When this hand gets tired, I’ll move to your other side and use the other one.” He passed her the glass. “Drink. You need your strength.”

  “I can’t,” she gasped as a new pain began. “I can’t until I’m on my way to the hospital. I can’t get back up those stairs to use the bathroom.”

  “You need another one down here.”

  “That’s what Chad keeps saying. Like I’ve got time to clean two of them.” The edge in her voice told him she was nearing the peak of the contraction.

  “Would you like me to get you a wet wash cloth for your forehead?”

  She nodded, whimpered, and slumped over the couch pillow clutched to her chest. “Thank you.”

  For thirty minutes, he held her, rocked her, sang the songs he’d sang to Kari as a little girl, and wiped the perspiration from her face. For thirty minutes, he endured the pain from the side of one who can do nothing to alleviate it. He kissed her temples, rubbed her hands, massaged her back, and even brushed her hair when she asked.

  With each minute that passed, she grew more and more anxious calling—no crying—for Chad as each contraction built upon the last until she thought she’d go insane with agony. Nothing she’d ever endured prepared her for the sheer torture of those contractions. She’d read about breathing, practiced religiously, and prepared for focusing to ensure minimal discomfort in the beginning stages of labor but to no avail. Either the contractions she experienced were worse than most people’s early labor, or her pain tolerance level ha
d dropped to negative numbers. She truly didn’t want to know which it was.

  After what seemed like decades, she looked into her grandfather’s concerned eyes and begged to be taken into the hospital. “We can call Chad, leave a note—I don’t care. Please take me now. Please. I can’t drive.”

  The trek to his car took twice as long as made any sense. Her grandfather drove in erratic spurts, first racing down the highway and now slower. Curves he took at a near crawl, straight stretches faster until she began to feel nauseated with the change. Perhaps, instead, it was the pain of the contractions. She didn’t know.

  A wheelchair wheeled out from the emergency room doors and met them at the car. Willow’s surprise was evident. “I called ahead and told them I was coming. I’ll be right in after I park, okay? You’ll be okay?” His concern touched her.

  “I’ll be fine.” She gasped. “Thank you, Grandfather. Thank you.”

  “We’ve got to work on this title thing. Be right back.”

  Inside the hospital, they wheeled her down corridors, into a labor room, and onto a bed that seemed little more than the table from the doctor’s office to Willow’s way of thinking. From that moment on, her images of labor changed irrevocably. Starting with the IV, baby monitors, and internal checks that nearly sent her through the roof in pain, it moved to a quick ultrasound to check baby positions, Demerol for the pain, and occasional vomiting that neither she nor David understood.

  He tried joking but they all fell flat. He sang until he grew hoarse, and finally wrapped a hand around hers and told her to squeeze whenever she needed relief. She nearly broke his thumb. “Sorry,” she gasped as another wave hit her. “Where is Chad?”

  “They said he’s coming as soon as they tell him. Carol’s on the way too.”

  “Mom Tesdall is on the contact information. Can you call her?”

  He rose to go and she gripped his arm even tighter. “Where are you going?”

  “Do you want me to call?”

  Illogically, Willow whimpered and shook her head. “Don’t leave me. I don’t know how Mother did this all alone. Please—” Her words were cut short with a cry of pain.

  Her nurse, Sandi, rushed into the room surprised to hear her growing louder so quickly. “You doin’ ok, sweetie?”

  “No.” Before Willow could answer, David’s answer cut the air. “Do something for her. She’s the strongest, healthiest young woman I’ve ever seen. If she’s hurting this badly, do something.”

  “I’ll call Dr. Kline.” She paused by David’s side. “Have you heard from her husband?”

  “No.”

  “How long since the contractions started?”

  “Water broke at two o’clock almost on the nose. I heard the clock chime about the time I grabbed her a towel.”

  “Two hours. Hmmm.”

  “If you could call the emergency contact number—Mrs. Tesdall can get in touch with her son better than I can.”

  David helped Willow from the bed and hung her arms over his shoulders. Pulling the IV pole with them, he slowly backed around the room. Their shuffling traveled very little distance around the room but she seemed to like the change. Her head flopped against his chest as she struggled through another contraction. “Grandfather,”

  “Oh we have to find something else for you to call me.”

  “Not now. You smell good. Like pine and soap.”

  His deep chuckle reminded her of Chad’s when Chad was amused with her. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “I want my babies to recognize that scent with the sound of your voice and the touch of your hands. Please keep coming. They need their great-grandfather.”

  “As long as you don’t make them call me great-grandfather. That’s too much of a mouthful even for me.”

  “Double G-pa. How’s that,” she murmured before a deep groan cut off his reply.

  “They’re getting worse, aren’t they sweetheart?”

  “I don’t know how Mother did it,” she sniffled between tears. “I’m about to die, and they said I’m at ‘four.’ That means I have six more of these to go. If time is equal that’s…” Confusion clouded her features and her eyes. “A lot more hours.”

  “My Kari was a strong woman.”

  “And she swore she’d never have children again.” Willow retorted grumpily. “I think I get it. I don’t know if I’ll do this again if it’s like this.”

  “The memories will fade, sweetheart. My wife and Sheryl both swear that after a few weeks it’s just a fuzzy memory. The babies—”

  “Why didn’t Mother have that?” she wailed. “Why did she have to keep such a vivid memory of such a horrible time?”

  In the same soothing voice that had comforted Kari through scraped knees, bruised feelings, and a broken heart in the tenth grade, David Finley promised her he’d be there, he’d never leave her, and like Jesus, he wasn’t going to forsake her. He promised that Chad was coming and that he’d be there soon. This is exactly what Willow needed to hear. Once he hit on the one thing that truly soothed her, David didn’t quit. He talked about the little boy that Chad would have to stop and scold for not wearing his helmet causing Willow to smile.

  “Aiden. He never learns.”

  Going from there, David assured Willow that Chad had to turn in the cruiser so the next officer could take his shift. “He’s probably turning in the keys right now.” After helping Willow to lie on her side once more, he continued with stopping at the farm, feeding and caring for the animals… “He’ll probably have to push some more alfalfa down from the rafters of that big ol’ barn you guys built, so the sheep don’t starve while you’re gone.”

  “Call Ryder and Caleb. He has to call them. For tomorrow. Ask.”

  “When he gets here, I’ll make sure he did.”

  From washing up the dishes to changing sheets and getting the house ready, David mentioned everything he could think of to keep Willow’s husband from arriving. He sent Chad back to town for a bank robbery, over to Westbury to pick up his mother, and help a kitten out of a tree for a little old lady. This made Willow snort.

  “Cat’s aren’t worth the trouble. He has babies to help,” she whined as another contraction started to build.

  “You’re right. They’re not. But kittens are. Kittens are delightful until they become cats. Then they’re disposable.”

  “Don’t we sound horrible,” Willow giggled as she realized what they were saying.

  “You’re smiling. I’ll talk about just about anything to keep you smiling.”

  His hands worked on Willow’s hips, back, and shoulder. Just as she murmured that maybe she’d learned to control the contractions, they grew harder sending her into deeper and more frantic cries of pain. David thought he’d go insane if he had to see her suffer any longer. “I’ll be right back. I promise. Count to sixty, and I’ll already be here. Ready?”

  Ignoring the terror in her eyes, David dashed from the room, found the nearest nurse, and demanded they get his granddaughter relief. “She’s in agony. If she’s making this much noise, she’s suffering ten times more than you think. I want that doctor here now or so help me—”

  “What doctor?” The voice came from behind David’s ear.

  “Her doctor is Dr. Kline and I want him now.”

  “I’m Dr. Kline. How can I help?”

  “Do something for Willow.”

  Anxious to get her some help as quickly as possible, he raced back to Willow’s side wetting the cloths he’d left again and wiping her forehead. “Look at her.”

  Dr. Kline settled at the end of the bed, ready to check her progress. How David hated this. He wanted to be far away when his granddaughter was in that position, but instead, he focused on her eyes, told her to breathe a little slower, and squeeze his hands harder. The doctor pulled off his gloves and tossed them in the garbage can. “Well, you’re at five already—”

  Willow’s wail pierced their ears. “I can’t do this. I just can’t do this,” she moaned. “Cut th
em out of me now!”

  “I’m not going to do that, Willow,” Dr. Kline argued. “It’s not in your or their best interests at this time. However, I am,” he continued at the despairing look in the eyes of man and granddaughter, “going to order an epidural for you. You’ll be able to stay on top of the pain with it.”

  The doctor dragged David from the room and demanded, “Where is her husband? I expected to see Chad by her side the whole way. He told me her mother went through this alone, and he’s concerned about her mental stability over it so where is he?”

  “We’ve called. He was in court with his cell phone off, and they said they’d go tell him. I have no idea—it’s been three hours!”

  Another shriek sent David back to her side, leaving the doctor confused. A woman burst into the O.B. ward demanding to know which was Willow Tesdall’s room. Seconds later, Marianne collapsed in a chair next to Willow’s bed and sighed. “Finally. I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

  “Where’s Chad?” Willow’s eagerness couldn’t be hidden.

  “He’s coming. The officer, Brad I think, who was supposed to call him was called to a barroom brawl and couldn’t go to the courthouse. Everyone’s in a mess, the trial is taking longer than expected, and Chad was last on the witness list. I told him to stay until dismissal, but he can’t get through anyway.”

  David’s eyes widened. “Why not?”

  “Big accident. Two tractor-trailers hit each other around the bend where Chad was hit last year. The whole road is blocked off. I had to backtrack and come around through New Cheltenham.”

  The anesthesiologist came through the door all smiles and too chipper for anyone’s comfort. “Let us be getting you some relief, mama,” the man said in a deep Indian accent.

  The torture of laying on her side, bending in half when there was nowhere for her upper body to bend, and all through a contraction, sent tears of pain rolling down her cheeks. Marianne mopped her face and kept eye contact, promising that it’d be better soon. David tried to slip from the room, but Willow grew hysterical as he disappeared behind the privacy curtain. He returned and laid his gentle hands on her feet, itching to get back to the other end of the bed and away from areas that might send a baby flying into his fumbling hands.