“Oh, lass! I didn’t mean—”
“I’m not saying you made me into some doormat, Chad. Don’t be ridiculous. But I stepped way out of bounds and you firmly and gently put me behind the proper line—beside you, not charging ahead and doing whatever I wanted because I thought it seemed like a good idea.”
Willow’s phone rang. She jumped, screeching out a high-pitched, “Eeek!” before snatching it up. “It’s Chelsea!”
“Her timing is impeccable,” Chad laughed as she punched the button.
“Is it time? I’m on my way! Do I need to call Ryder or—okay. Coming. Hang in there. Chad’ll be praying.”
As she dressed, Willow said, “I was still right about the idea of the baby—just wrong in how I went about it. You were right about both.”
Chapter 172
Just after daybreak, Willow trudged up the stairs and crawled into bed next to Chad without bothering to undress. Seconds later, her shoes, one at a time, flew across the room and hit the floor. Chad moaned and rolled over. Startled, he sat up.
“You’re back! Is she here? When can she come home? How big—”
Yawning, Willow stretched and curled up against him. “False alarm. She hasn’t changed ‘stations’ or ‘thickness’ or any of that stuff. The minute they strapped her to that monitor the contractions slowed down and then fizzled to nothing.”
“Dehydrated again?”
Willow shook her head. “Nope. Dr. Kline said Kari either can’t make up her mind or she’s a practical joker. I’m voting for the latter.” She gave a half-hearted giggle that morphed into a yawn. “I forgot the bag too. She wouldn’t have had her pretty little clothes or anything.” Several seconds passed before she added, “I didn’t even bring a camera…”
“How’s Ryder holding up?”
No answer came. Instead, a soft snore told him she’d fallen asleep. Chad rolled over and gazed at his wife. The exhaustion she must have felt seemed gone—eradicated by the relaxation of sleep.
Several minutes passed before he gave up on the idea of returning to sleep. He slipped from the bed, unhooked the blackout shade from his side of the room and dropped it into place. Once he lowered hers as well, he crept from the room and peeked in on the boys. Chad quietly cleared his throat, but neither lad stirred. He had time to shower.
However, when he stepped back into their room to check on them before heading downstairs, he found Lucas alone in the crib. His feet took the stairs two and three at a time. The downstairs was empty, but the front screen moved at his touch. He raced around the house in his bare feet, wincing as twigs, stickers, and the occasional rock bruised his heels and toes.
Once certain his son hadn’t escaped the house, Chad hurried back inside and climbed the stairs again. The craft room remained undisturbed as did Kari’s room. However, the distinct sound of smacking lips called him into their bedroom. There, beside his mother, Liam lay nursing.
“Pretty soon you’re going to have to defer to a little sister, bud.”
“He will. I’m just trying to boost the supply,” she murmured. I heard him stir and grabbed him while I thought about it.”
Just then, Liam flopped onto his back, his arms thrown back and with utter contentment on his face. “You should look at this. I bet you can see it better than I can.”
Willow beckoned for Chad. “Come take him. I’ll look at my adorable son later. Right now, I want sleep.”
“What about Lucas?”
“Is he awake?”
“Chad shook his head—useless gesture that it was. “No, I meant when he wakes up. Want me to bring him in to nurse then?”
“Yeah. Make me roll over first.”
“Gotcha. I’m thinking about taking them to go get Danishes from the Confectionary. Want one if I do?”
“Sure. Cherry with the cream cheese. That stuff is amazing.”
“Got it.” Chad lifted his son and carried him from the room. “’Night, lass.”
“Mornin’.”
As Chad carried Liam downstairs, he muttered, “Your mother is always so precise. Did you hear that? When it comes time to pick a wife, make sure you get a good one—and that you can stand her quirks. She’s got to put up with yours, so don’t get too high and mighty about them, but still… Women!”
Liam stared at him and then nodded.
Every other night for a week, Willow grabbed hospital bag and camera bag and dashed out into the night—nearly always right around one o’clock in the morning. One night when Chad was working, Becca came to stay with the boys, sleeping on Kari’s bed. Each morning around five or six o’clock, she dragged herself back upstairs to sleep for a few hours. At the boys’ naptime, she slept. When they went to bed, if Chad wasn’t home, she slept.
As her birthday drew near, she felt a little panicked at the idea of not finishing her dress in time. As if to make a difficult situation impossible, in her sleep-deprived state, she made silly errors that cost her much time and frustration. So, when the eve of her birthday arrived, Willow was near tears and the dress still incomplete.
So, despite her insistence that she not use Becca for babysitting outside of true emergencies, she called her new assistant into the house and begged her to keep the boys out of trouble. “Chad gets home in two hours. I can have this thing done by then if I don’t have to rescue the books, the bathroom, and everything else from them.”
“We’ll go outside and play. I’ll wear ‘em out so they’ll sleep good for you at naptime. That should give you a bit more time too.”
“I have to sleep when they do. I’m on fumes, as Chad puts it, as it is. Oh, and while you’re at it, pray that Chelsea neither has false or real labor tonight or tomorrow night. I want a nice birthday.”
“What are you doing?”
“Chad’s taking me out. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is. Cheri and Chuck are coming to watch the boys and tell us their wedding plans when we get back.” Willow rolled her eyes. “At least some people share their ideas.”
“I don’t know what I want, or I would.”
Something in Becca’s tone told Willow that the words weren’t quite accurate. “Do you not know what you want, or do you not think it’s possible?”
“That’s probably more like it.”
“What would you do if you could do anything?”
It took several minutes for Becca to answer. She had to change a diaper, soothe a bumped head, and rescue Willow’s spinning wheel from curious fingers. Once she had the boys engrossed in their stacking toys, she turned to Willow and said, “I’d combine a simple church wedding with a reception that felt like my proposal.”
“Then we do that. But to do it, you have to work fast or wait almost a year.”
“Why is that?”
Willow shook out the dress and stared at the sleeve before deciding it was fine. “Because after September, it’ll be too cool to do an outdoor reception.” She picked up the needle and started on the other sleeve. “Or, you have a reception at that place in Rockland with the dome over the maze. That might give a similar feel…”
“It wouldn’t have the rustic side of it and I can’t afford it anyway.”
“That would be an advantage to here,” Willow mumbled around the pins she held in her mouth. “It’s free. We even have the tables and chairs.”
“I suppose two months is too short…”
This time, Willow didn’t answer. She took her time, finished her pinning, and set the dress aside. “Look, if you want to do it, we can. It’ll be a lot of work, but we can do it.”
“I want things simple anyway, but you said August through October are our biggest months. We should probably wait until next spring or do something else for a reception. Maybe we could—” Becca froze and turned to stare at Willow. “That’s it. That’s what I want.”
“What?”
“I want to turn the kitchens at the Mission into the nicest thing I can afford to do. I want the mission children to be my flower girls. It’ll be a chance to do s
omething really nice for them before we’re both gone.”
Despite the disappointment in losing the fun of decorating the pastures again, Willow saw the beauty of the idea. “I wonder…”
“What?”
“Well, if we can’t take elegance outdoors as Josh did for your proposal; maybe we can take outdoors into the mission. We can have trees brought in—the ones we’ll plant next spring, maybe. That would work.”
Becca grinned. “You sew. We’ll talk about this later. If we’re not doing this in two months, then we have time. Maybe November or something.” She took each boy’s hand and urged them out the door.
Alone in the house, Willow went back to work. Stitch after stitch rolled the edge of her last sleeve until it hung perfectly. She used her bone folder to press the edge into a crisp line, saving the need for ironing. Excited, she rushed into the bathroom and changed out of her clothes. She slipped the dress over her head and zipped up the side. A glance at the mirror showed it to fit perfectly.
The cleavage it showed prompted a blush. Yes, Chad would like it. She could never wear it outside the house, but Chad would like it. His words hit her hard. “We’ll have to have a date so I can show it off.”
“Not on your life, bud,” she muttered. A new idea occurred to her, one prompting a smile. “Then again…”
Willow carried Chad’s dress shirt, slacks, and tie downstairs. “You dress here.”
“Dress for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her suspiciously.
“You promised me a date with your surprise. Today you get your surprise, so we’re going on the date. Your sister and Chuck are almost here, so I suggest you get dressed.”
“Okaaay…” He frowned.
“I want your promise to take me to dinner after you get your surprise.”
“Sure.”
She grinned—something in it making him quite nervous. “Then get dressed.”
Within minutes, he paced the living room. Twice he called up to her. Still, she remained upstairs. After losing all patience and climbing the stairs, she hid behind locked door and ordered him back to the living room. Cheri and Chuck arrived and took the boys—where, he didn’t know.
The minute Cheri’s car disappeared down the drive, he heard their bedroom door open. This would be good. How or why, didn’t know, but it would be good.
A red hem hit his line of vision first. Becca’s dress. They had told her what he said. And she’d made it—just for him. Unaware he did so, Chad closed his eyes and thanked the Lord for her. As he opened them again, he saw her hair, still tousled after she had untied her braid. That he knew she did for him.
“Well…”
The uncertainty in her tone cut him. She—his eyes widened as he took in the full cut of the dress. Even the cut-off halter she wore whenever she thought no one was around showed less… topography. “Wow.”
“I get that a lot.” The uncertainty still hovered, but not as strongly. “I hear you have a thing for red dresses, so…”
“I love it, but if you think I’m taking you anywhere in that, you’re crazy.”
“I thought I did a good job,” she teased.
“You did an excellent job. I’ll sit here and enjoy leftovers and the view.” He waggled his finger in the general direction of her chest, “But if you think I’m sharing that view with anyone, you’ve got another thing coming.”
To his astonishment, Willow’s face clouded. “Fine. See if I try to please you again. I’ll change.”
“Willow—”
His attempt to soothe her ruffled feathers failed. She stormed up the stairs and slammed the door. The idea that she even considered leaving the house so exposed astounded him. She wouldn’t usually wear something so revealing in his presence alone, much less around others. Before he could decide what to do or how to explain, the door opened and to his further dismay, the red hem appeared again. Chad swallowed hard, ready to fight for this one, and laughed as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Okay, you got me.”
“When you mentioned date, I couldn’t figure out how you guessed.”
“Lass, I thought you were making a horse blanket.” He brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. “I didn’t expect anything like this. I bought this one hook, line, and sinker.”
“Stinker, is more like it.” She smoothed the scarf around her neck. “Yesterday when I thought of making a fichu—”
“Bless you.”
“Stop it!” Willow laughed. “I realized I could still surprise you, even if it meant more of a practical joke of a surprise.”
“You surprised me, all right. When I imagined a server bending over your shoulder to place your plate, I imagined having to arrest myself for assault.”
“I’m sure he would give you some if you asked him.”
Chad frowned. “Some what?”
“Salt!”
Groaning, Chad led her to the truck and held the door. “You know, that was cruel of you.”
“What was?”
“Coming down without that scarf-aahchoo thing.”
“It’s a fichu! They used to wear them all the time.” She shook her head and said, “Okay so why was it cruel?”
Just as he shut the door, Chad murmured, “I’m going to be trying to imagine that dress without it all through dinner.”
Willow caught it and stopped it from shutting. Her eyes rose to meet his. “That was kind of the idea.”
The boys slept soundly by the time Chad and Willow returned home. Cheri and Chuck talked for a few minutes, but before they could leave, Willow’s phone rang. She peeked at it and showed Chad. As she rushed upstairs to grab bags and change, Chad called out, “Um, Willow?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy Birthday.”
Chapter 173
Chad met her at the door, a son wrapped around each leg as he walked stiff-legged through the house. Squeals of delight preceded his arrival, and shouts of protest came as he stopped to greet her. “Another false alarm?”
Willow nodded, yawning. “I don’t know how she’s functioning. But,” she added with a weak smile, “Dr. Kline said next time we don’t have to try to stop it. We can get her to walk around, squat, do whatever it is you do to urge babies to come. I’ve gotta read up on that.”
He pointed to the stairs. “Sleep first.”
“I—”
He shook his head. “Sleep first.”
Liam toddled to her and lifted his arms up. She knelt to kiss him and held her arms out for Lucas. Chad tapped his toes until a slow smile spread across her sleepy features. “Husband card?”
“If necessary.”
“I’ll go peacefully.” Willow squeezed each boy once more. “Wouldn’t want you to have to play all your cards before our fifth anniversary.”
Once she hit the landing, Chad stopped her again. “Hey, lass?”
“Yeah?”
“Would it be weird if we sent her flowers?”
“When the baby is born?”
He shook his head. “No, today. Kind of a ‘hang in there’ sort of thing?”
She jogged back down the steps and hugged him. “And that’s why I love you. Great idea. Can you do it? Call Wayne?”
“The minute he opens.”
Before she reached the top, Willow called back down. “Can you call Sharon and tell her that we’ll bring dinner tonight? I bet she’s having a hard time managing work and coming home and trying to fix dinner and everything.”
“Sure. I’ll order pasta from Marcello’s.”
“Oh, and I don’t know if I made Becca’s work list for today, but the tomatoes and the zucchini are overrunning the garden. We’ve got to get them out of there immediately. Oh, and some inspector is coming—the notes are on the clipboard.”
Chad stood each boy on one foot and walked them to the kitchen, their giggles and squeals filling the downstairs. “Bad idea. Mama’s got to sleep. How about we go play outside. Just… as… soon… as…” He flipped through the paperwork on the
clipboard muttering, “Where is it?” A carefully penned note attached to the egg quantities told him which inspector.
Lucas tugged on his pants as if to urge him onward, but Chad’s finger slid over the back of the clipboard. “Look, buddy. See that? Your mama loves to make things pretty. Bet she drew that chicken herself.”
The boy stomped on Chad’s feet. “How do I know? Well,” Chad explained, “it might have something to do with it looking a little too fat to be capable of walking.”
Unimpressed Liam and Lucas raced from Chad’s side to the counter, pointing to where Willow kept the cookies she made for them. Liam added to the request with his single-word mantra, “Some?”
Bleary-eyed, Willow crawled from beneath the sheets, hot and sticky. She felt cotton-headed and the stifling heat didn’t help matters. A glance at the boys’ room showed them sleeping, a fan blowing over the crib, sending cooler air down on them. Chad. A peek back into her room showed a fan there, the plug lying on the floor beside the outlet. “I must have gotten restless,” she muttered as she grabbed fresh clothes from her drawers and a towel from the hall closet.
After a refreshing shower and clean clothes, Willow’s energy rose. She hurried downstairs for food. Though her chicken sandwich looked good, the wilted lettuce in the box did little to whet her appetite. She tossed the greens in the compost bucket and grabbed a basket. The garden lettuces had all gone to seed, but she found options in the greenhouse. “Mother should have built a greenhouse years ago. Oh, she would have loved the variety we can get now.”
“Did you say something?”
Ryder’s voice in the corner made her jump. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home—sleeping!”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come here and work for a bit—unwind. I’ll sleep better later.”
Willow cut the outer leaves of several lettuce plants. “Unless we get another call tonight.” She glanced around her. “I can’t believe how temperate it is in here.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 5 Page 27