Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 5

by Chautona Havig

  Chad didn’t have the heart to remind her that he’d seen them many times. He also made note that zoo was what she wanted the most. “What about dinner?”

  “I want an excuse for a new dress—I’m sick of these tenty things—but I don’t want something stuffy like The Oakes. Maybe we should stay and eat in Westbury. It’d be less hassle…”

  “That’ll work.” He couldn’t resist a chance to tease. “You know, Mom wouldn’t care if we just stayed there…”

  Before she realized he was joking, Willow shook her head. “But I thought it’d be nice—” A glance at his twisted smile sent her eyes rolling. “You’re just terrible.”

  “And you like me that way.”

  “I do. Strange isn’t it?” Willow snapped her dishtowel at him as she left the kitchen to answer the call of her sons. Lucas’ hearty wail informed them that the boys were hungry and most likely quite soggy.

  “A picnic?”

  “I’ve worked hard all week fixing fences, weeding, picking, cleaning, laundering, and so forth so we could enjoy your day off. Don’t you want a chance to prove your superiority as a fisherman, or are you just scared you’ll be upstaged by a girl?”

  “But you wanted to make a dress…”

  Willow shook her head bemused. Even as he’d spoken, he’d hurried up the stairs to retrieve his tackle box. If she followed, which she couldn’t with one milk-drunk baby tucked into her crossed leg and the other happily nursing, working hard to ‘tie one on’ himself, she’d find him critically examining every fly he owned for the best ones before he grabbed the lot and went to change clothes.

  A drawer banged. There it was; he was changing. He’d come down in swim trunks, holey t-shirt, and Rockland Warriors baseball cap. He’d forget to put sunscreen on his ears and when the sun shifted, the tops would get red. She needed to make him a fishing hat. Her floppy sisal hat dropped onto her head.

  “Thanks. I worry about the amount of sun I get in this room…”

  Chad ignored her teasing. “Sandwiches? Should I make some?”

  “They’re in the ice box in the cellar. We need to clean the kitchen box. I didn’t get ice in it quickly enough and there’s mold in there.”

  “Oh ugh. I’ll do it. You shouldn’t be breathing that stuff.”

  “It’s just mold. I’d have done it already, but I need bleach and I’m out.”

  Every time she ran out of something, Willow felt inadequate. How had her mother noticed how much of everything to order and keep ahead of everything? They’d been through so many bleach tablets since the boys were born. She’d asked Chad to bring home bleach once, and he’d arrived with a bottle of liquid bleach. It seemed horribly wasteful to her, and she hadn’t asked again.

  “I’ll bring some home—”

  Willow bit her lip. She had to say something. “Chad, I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “Why not? We need it. I don’t mind.” A look at her face enlightened him—or so he assumed. “It can’t be that much more expensive. We’ll order right away but you need it in the meantime.”

  “We don’t have room for plastic bottles, and I can’t burn them. We need to order tablets. I can let it dry out in the meantime.”

  “What about the boys’ diapers?”

  She groaned. The week she’d skipped bleach, the diapers had been dingy and a few of the stains hadn’t washed out properly. “I guess. Thanks.”

  “I’ll take the empty bottles to Adric. He’s a survivalist type. He can fill them with water for his pantry.”

  Changing subjects, Willow pointed to Liam. “He’s about done. Can you get the sandwiches and the cut fruit? Oh, and there’s a jar of fruit tea down there. Can you get that too? I’ll get the—”

  “You’ll sit there and hold my children. What else do you want?”

  In twice the time she thought it should take, they finally set off for her favorite fishing place. Each of them carried a baby and a pole. Under Willow’s other arm was a rolled up blanket and in her hand, she held a bucket with most of their lunch in it. Chad carried the tackle box in his “free hand,” while trying to juggle the baby and avoid whacking Willow with his pole.

  Willow commented on how different this walk was from most of their fishing treks. She started to complain that she missed walking hand in hand with him, feeling that closeness and camaraderie when Chad dropped his pole. “This is insane. We should have brought the cart.”

  “I could go get it if you’d like…” Her lack of enthusiasm was not lost on him.

  “You wait here. I’ll go get it.” Chad dropped everything but Lucas and hurried back to the barn.

  “Hey, Liam and I are going to keep walking.”

  All the way to the hole, Willow told Liam about her fishing dates with Bumpkin and how Othello was too noisy to bring. “Portia is a good dog, though. She doesn’t make much noise.” Liam’s toothless grin was the baby’s only reply.

  At her favorite tree, Willow was forced to lay the baby in the grass in order to spread out the blanket. “Now I wonder if Mother did this all those years ago. Do you think so, little man? I think she must have at least once.” The blanket snapped in the breeze as she spread it out over the ground. “There. Now, we’ll just sit here and look cool and refreshed when your daddy arrives. Do you think I should pour him something to drink?”

  In spite of its rocky beginning, Willow’s picnic was exactly what they needed. While the babies slept, they fished, catching little in the midday sun, and they talked about everything from their expanded operation to further plans for her birthday. They would have stayed out there for hours, but Liam’s diaper demanded a change, Lucas insisted that it was dinnertime, and the magic of the afternoon was lost in the shuffle to make the boys happy again.

  Late that night after babies slept curled next to each other in one corner of the crib across the hall, Chad brushed an escaped lock of hair from her face and tucked it into her braid. “Thanks for the picnic, lass. Man I needed that.”

  “It was refreshing, wasn’t it? Made all that extra work this week worth it.”

  “Don’t do that too often. As much as I liked it, I don’t want a worn-out wife.”

  “Yes m’lord.”

  “Watch it, or I’ll start calling you Sarah.”

  Her laughter rang out before she clamped her hands over her mouth giggling. “It’s like I don’t want to sleep or something.”

  Seconds passed. Willow thought Chad had fallen asleep and rolled over to get more comfortable. His voice made her jump. “What were you talking about earlier? You said something about walking being different, but I dropped my pole. I kept meaning to ask what you meant.”

  “I just missed the way we used to be able to—” Suddenly, she felt silly. “Oh never mind.”

  “No, what did you miss?”

  “We just used to walk together. I missed holding your hand and talking about things that didn’t matter—just because they were interesting. This time it was just different. Not bad—different.” She sighed. “Is it terrible that I’m really looking forward to our time alone in the city?”

  “From where I’m sitting—”

  “Lying,” she corrected sleepily.

  Conceding, he amended his statement. “Lying, it sounds just about right.”

  “Good. Night.”

  “Goodnight, lass.” Seconds ticked by before he added, “Goodnight, John boy.”

  She didn’t bother to ask.

  Chapter 14 4

  July-

  I think I had the best birthday of my life this year. Chad and I had a delightful time shopping, wandering around the zoo, and relaxing in the hotel room. We didn’t even go out to dinner. We ordered room service, watched a bunch of ridiculous TV, and talked for hours. It was wonderful. I think I already said that, but it was.

  The boys didn’t seem to mind spending the day with doting grandmothers, grandfathers, and aunts, well aunt, and I got to spend time with Chad. I told him that I thought it was ironic that a couple of years
ago I thought he was ever-present and a bit clingy, and now I was abandoning our children for a few hours so I could be clingier—more clingy—no, I guess clingier. Surprisingly enough, he isn’t complaining.

  One of the most wonderful parts of the trip was a walk around Granddad’s neighborhood. He showed me where Mother’s best friend’s house was, told me he’d written her to tell her about me and what happened to Mother, and even pointed out where she got on the school bus every day. It was strange to see everything that Mother knew but probably wouldn’t recognize anymore.

  We’ve gotten very close, Granddad and I. The boys’ birth changed something in us and for that, all the pain was worth it. I’d wondered about how he’d take our naming Liam after him, but when he picked up his little namesake he said, “David William. I never imagined you’d use my name.” It wasn’t the words that affected me so deeply, it was the way he said them. My Granddad was honored in our choice.

  Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever said or written that before. “My Granddad.” My little lads are going to know their granddads and have a lifetime of memories with them if the Lord will see fit to let them live long enough.

  Liam is through nursing. I guess it is time for me to put down my pen and pick up a bucket. Tomatoes are calling.

  Willow stared at her journal as she nursed a very fussy Liam. She’d missed journaling for nearly three weeks, and now her little guy was teething, making it hard to keep current. Chad had mentioned something twice about how she’d be sorry if she didn’t take the time to write down the little things that kept her days so busy. “Those entries of your mother’s are so meaningful to you, Lass. Don’t you think that our sons or their wives and children will want to read them as well?”

  A fresh feeling of shame washed over her as she remembered her snappish retort and the look in Chad’s eyes. She now knew exactly what he’d look like if she ever slapped him. Her words already had.

  August was already half-gone. In another week, Ryder would be off for his first year at Rockland U. They would miss the help just as things were entering the busiest season of all. The thought almost choked her.

  “Hey, lass? You up there?”

  Hoping not to kill the drowsiness dropping over little Liam’s face, Willow tried for a cough. Chad’s footsteps echoed in the stairway growing louder as he neared the top. He leaned against the bedroom doorjamb smiling at the picture of Willow in her chair nursing the baby, her feet propped on the foot of the bed. “Still fussy?”

  Nodding, Willow whispered smiling, “He’s almost out, though.”

  Her hands caressed his little head smoothing the hair into place. He had a three-inch piece of hair growing near the crown of his head forward like an elderly man who combed one long piece over a bald spot. Chad’s voice brought her attention back to him. “I could watch this all day.”

  “Better get a picture then because I cannot sit here all day. My leg is growing numb, peaches are screaming to be processed, and now that you’re home, I can pick some more while you rest. Lucas stopped fussing about half an hour ago and he’s,” she stood gingerly and shifted the baby and pulled her shirt down discreetly, “going to stay out this time. I rubbed his gums with a little brandy. Mother’s journals said that seemed to soothe me and two of her medical books recommend it, so I tried it.”

  “Did you ask Dr. Wesley about it?”

  “I didn’t think about it. Two books and Mother were enough for me, but I’ll call when I get a chance.”

  Willow settled Liam next to Lucas and patted his back until he wiggled his head into his brother’s stomach and settled into sleep. The boys slept like that often—one head tucked into the curve of the other’s fetal position like a human “T.” She closed the door behind her and crept downstairs to make Chad a sandwich before she spent the next couple of hours picking peaches.

  Chad carried his sandwich out the back door, dropping crusts for Portia as he crossed the yard, wandered around the barn, and back between the tree break to the orchard. As he neared, he could smell the comforting scent of alfalfa. It was time to harvest that too. The next day was his day off. He’d get started on it then.

  The baby monitor crackled in his pocket and he paused to listen, but there was nothing. The garden cart had four buckets filled on it already and Willow was carrying a fifth to it. “Wow, you’re working fast.”

  “My body seems to be screaming for some hard physical work, so I decided to reach as far as I could, work as fast as I can, and carry things a bit in order to give me some exercise. I think I’m even weaker since having the boys than I was while I was pregnant.”

  “Of course you are,” Chad teased taking the bucket from her and forgetting that she wanted the work. “When you were pregnant, you carried weights with you everywhere you went.”

  “Well, now I need to give my body some real work or its going to protest.” She punched her still-paunchy stomach ruefully. “And if this doesn’t start looking a little less pregnant, I’m going to protest. I don’t mind looking pregnant when I am but the boys are five months old and I look at least that pregnant.”

  Chad wisely kept the mental adjustment to himself. Sorry, lass,” he thought amusedly, that’d be six months for the average pregnant woman. Aloud he reassured her with something his mother had mentioned the last time they spoke. “Mom says it takes your body nine months to get out of shape so it is only reasonable that it’d take that long to get it back where it belongs.”

  She nodded absently as she grabbed another empty bucket and walked away pointing toward the house. “Go to bed, Chaddie lad. I can see you’ve had a rough day.”

  “How?”

  “You don’t want to sleep, but you don’t want to talk either. You just want me to talk to you.”

  She whipped her head around, and Chad sucked in his breath sharply at the sight of her smile half hidden by her wide hat. How did she do that? How did she go from being just “attractive” to amazingly gorgeous at the oddest times? Why had God chosen to bless him with this life, this wife, and the two most amazing little sons a man could ever hope to have?

  Willow waited for him to protest and then nodded satisfied. “Tell it to Jesus, Chad. He’s waiting for you to talk to Him about it anyway.”

  He waved and hefted the handles of the garden cart, forcing it down the path, around the barn, and carried the buckets into the summer kitchen. It wasn’t much help, but Chad hated thinking of her pushing all that weight. She thrived on it, but to Chad, it was like expecting a woman to change her own tire. Sure, she could do it, but that didn’t mean she should. Even as the thought entered his mind, Chad brushed it aside. If Willow knew he had thought she shouldn’t do any work she wanted, she’d let him have it.

  Cart returned, he dragged himself back to the house, up the stairs, and kicked off his shoes. A peek at the boys found them sleeping soundly. Hopefully, Willow would be back before they woke him with their demanding cries for sustenance. As he lay in bed waiting for sleep to erase the mental images of twisted metal and broken bodies, he remembered Willow’s not-so-gentle reminder to take his pain to Jesus.

  Lucas’ piercing wail sent him flying from his bed almost the moment he fell asleep. Chad hurried to the crib to grab him before Liam woke again. Fortunately, the boys were deep sleepers or neither would have ever gotten any good sleep. Chad shoved the little pillow Willow had created to simulate their sibling’s body against Liam’s head and absently wondered just how helpful it was. By the time he reached his bed, Lucas snoozed again in Chad’s arms as though he’d never awakened at all.

  Willow found them there two hours later, Chad snoring softly laying on his back propped by pillows, while Lucas gave his own impressive snore for someone so tiny every now and again. “Like Father, like son I suppose,” she muttered as she grabbed clothes for a quick shower.

  “If there is one thing about motherhood I don’t like,” she said to Chad that evening, “It’s the loss of a good, long, hot shower.”

  “What on
earth are you doing, woman?”

  Chad rounded the corner to the orchard to find Willow on the ladder, shirt flapping open in the breeze, breast pumps strapped to her body, pumping away as she picked peaches. “Where are the boys?”

  “Lily and Tabitha picked them up an hour ago. This fruit is going bad, and they heard Jill say she’d buy all the preserves I could give her in the next three weeks. They volunteered to take the lads so I could get it done.”

  “And how is your pump running without electricity?”

  “Lily went and got me a battery pack. I didn’t know it was an option! We can turn the electricity off again.”

  The excitement in her voice told him that she’d been more bothered by keeping the breaker on than he’d realized. He also realized he’d grown accustomed to flipping on lights that now had working bulbs, plugging in fans at random, and suggesting a movie much more often than they’d ever done before the boys were born.

  “So, you’re pumping while picking? Am I the only one seriously bothered by this?”

  “No one is around, it only takes about twenty minutes every few hours, and this way I’m not stuck in a chair while these milking machines drain me.” She pointed to her canteen. “Can you hand me that? I’m parched.”

  “Mom would have come…”

  “I know, and it’s not that I didn’t want her, but Lily called and asked, and you’re always saying that I never take help from the church so I thought I’d accept this time.”

  For the second time in just a few minutes, her words irritated him. First, the glee in finding a way around using electricity as if it was some great sin, and now casting his words back at him like he didn’t know what he said and she didn’t know what he’d meant. It was as though she deliberately tried to provoke an argument or something. Chad’s irritation threatened to erupt in anger.

  She grabbed the bucket and awkwardly carried it toward the cart. The sight of her arms, fighting to move around the pumps and hold the bucket with both hands, would have made him laugh if Chad was in a better mood. Irritably, he took the bucket from her and hoisted it onto the cart, waiting for her protest that she could do it herself.