Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 6

by Chautona Havig

  “There aren’t any lights—just those Christmas ones.”

  Willow pointed to oil lamps on tables. “There are lamps there too—in those jars. See?”

  “I thought those were candles.” The girl raised wide brown eyes to meet Willow’s. “They look like candles.”

  “They’re special oil lamps that use any oil in them. These have olive oil. And if you tip them over, the oil puts out the fire so they’re safer than candles for something like this.” Willow smiled down at the excited girl. “If it’s okay with your mommy, you can take one home. Just blow it out first.”

  “Really! I’ll have to show it to Paati! She’ll like it, won’t she?”

  The woman smiled her thanks at Willow, commented on Kari’s pretty dress, and led her daughter to a table. Willow watched them for a moment, before allowing herself to enjoy the room again. The hay bales had given way to burlap covered crates. Made from old pallets that Chad and Luke collected from what seemed like half the businesses in the greater Rockland area, they’d cost little more than screws, sandpaper, and the time to assemble them. Becca had proven herself a whiz at screwing them together.

  Burlap and chiffon draped over tables, along walls, and the clash of delicate and rough provided the perfect setting. Flowers filled mason jars—lavender and sunflowers on nearly every table. In the corner, a violin, a couple of guitars, a bass violin, and a banjo played Bach’s Minuet in G. She whispered to Kari, “That banjo—I wonder where they found that banjo.”

  Chad sat with Cheri and Chuck at a table near the front, a wriggling boy on each side. Dave wasn’t there. Her disappointment surprised her. As she sat, she murmured, “He wouldn’t come?”

  “You can’t blame him. Remember how hard it was for Bill at our wedding?”

  She nodded as her eyes swept the room. Bill sat several tables away, Lee laughing at something he said. Willow’s throat constricted as she watched him lean forward, kissing her cheek and whispering something to her. “It worked out good for Bill, though. He met Lee.”

  “I doubt that would help Dave right now.”

  The boys tried standing—reaching—running. Willow pointed to the little girl who now sat at the feet of one of the guitarists and said, “Do you think it’s the year or two difference or that she’s a girl?”

  “Do I think what is?” Chad dove for Liam before he raced out into the sea of legs of the milling guests who hadn’t yet taken seats.

  “Look at her. Her name is Mayra, by the way. Isn’t that a beautiful name?”

  Cheri glanced over and smiled. “That’s Mayra Brown. She’s almost four. Big difference between four and two, Willow.”

  “They’re not two yet.”

  “My point exactly.” Cheri pulled Lucas up on her lap. “He just wants to sit with me now, don’t you?”

  “So age rather than gender.” Willow adjusted sleepy Kari on her shoulder and sighed. “I was hoping…”

  “Well, Mayra is kind of a handful at times, but when Jay plays the guitar, nothing moves her.” Cheri nodded in an ambiguous direction as if pointing someone out to them. “I heard Hope joking that it’s why he volunteered—to keep Mayra from going crazy with nothing to do.”

  A man stood at the entrance, visibly confused. He started to turn, but Becca caught sight of him and rushed to pull him into the room. Willow pointed it out to Chad. “I was afraid of that. I couldn’t convince them that people wouldn’t leave when they saw a formal party in here.”

  Becca brought the man to their table. “Hi! This is Pete. He’s a regular around here, but he didn’t get the memo about the wedding.”

  “Are you going to sit with us?” Willow pulled out the chair next to her.

  “I—”

  “Go on, Pete. They wouldn’t have offered if they didn’t mean it.”

  The man sat fiddling with the hem of the burlap tablecloth. “Room’s bigger.”

  “They opened the dividers. It’s usually just this middle section.” Willow pointed to where the room dividers had been shoved against the walls.

  Willow saw a woman with a boy of about ten step into the room and slowly back out again. Her eyes sought Chad’s. “This isn’t going to work. It’s going to ruin everything for them.” She started to rise, but Chad shook his head.

  “I’ll go. C’mon, Chuck. I might need you.”

  “But—”

  Cheri pointed to the door. “Go, and don’t say anything that Chad doesn’t tell you to say.”

  “I—”

  Willow added her glare to the mix and Chuck stood. As he walked away, she sighed. “I hope this works. There were only a handful of the mission guests at the ceremony.”

  Pete didn’t meet her eyes; in fact, he acted as if he didn’t hear. But just as Cheri dashed after Lucas again, he muttered, “Folks don’t like to feel out of place.”

  “I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable. Look…” She pointed to where the doors rolled back from the kitchen and the buffet trays slid into place. “It’s time to eat. I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.”

  The words hit Willow with an unexpected intensity. Had she ever experienced true hunger? Not likely. Not with her farm full of fresh foods and provision for the winter. “Can I get you a plate while I’m up there?”

  Pete stood and shook his head. “I’ll get it for you. I don’t have to carry a baby. Want anything special?”

  “Anything is good. Thanks.”

  As he left Willow snuggled Kari a bit closer. “How’s that for a lesson in humility, little lass. We’re trying to serve the less fortunate and the less fortunate serves me.”

  Music swelled around them as the guests shoved tables back and began line dancing across the floor. Chad watched, his arms folded across his chest, as the dancers laughed at their awkward attempts to follow the leader’s steps. A few of the mission’s regular guests slipped past him, despite his encouraging them to stay, but the majority of those he’d inveigled into the reception sat on the sidelines or allowed themselves to be pulled into the dance. One look at Josh and Becca’s happy faces made the effort worth it.

  Cheri and Chuck danced past, each with a toddler on one hip. His sister beckoned her to join them, but Chad shook his head. His eyes roamed the room, but often fell on Willow. She danced near Bill and Lee, laughing at something Lee said. Kari slept, curled against her chest. The baby had to be getting heavy, but Willow didn’t seem to notice. She slowed down and joined Becca, whispering something into the bride’s ear. Becca flushed.

  Josh caught Chad’s gaze and reached for Kari. Against Willow’s protests, he took the baby, settled her in the crook of his arm, and danced away from Willow with his wife. Confusion filled her face until her eyes settled on him. Chad beckoned to her.

  She arrived at his side, smiling. “I couldn’t figure out why Josh insisted on taking the baby.”

  “He knew I’d never get to dance with you otherwise.” Chad pulled her into his arms and shuffled them toward the corner of the room where they could dance without getting in the way of the others.

  Willow protested. “This is supposed to be a group dance.”

  “Sue me.”

  Willow dropped her head to Chad’s shoulder and let him rock her to the time of the music. “This turned out lovely,” she murmured.

  “They look happy.”

  He felt her cling to him. “This is where it feels like Mother would have said, “You are never happier than when you serve others.”

  “She was wounded. People cling to any kind of self-preservation after going through things like she did.”

  “Not everyone.” Willow leaned back to meet his gaze. “I’ve met women who went through similar things. They didn’t let it take over their lives. Mother’s entire life was built on avoiding people—because of it.” A sigh escaped before she dropped her head back to his shoulder and held on tighter than ever. “And because of it, I had a wonderful and rich life even if it was isolated.”

  Becca smiled as they danced past,
Kari now in her arms. Chad nudged Willow. “How long do you think it’ll be before she holds a baby other than Kari?”

  “Seven and a half months.”

  He froze mid-step, his eyes wide. “She’s—”

  “Going to hold this baby too,” Willow teased. “C’mon, you handed me that one.”

  “I am going to get you for it too.”

  He kissed her. There, in the middle—well, corner to be exact—of the room in full view of two hundred strangers, Chad Tesdall kissed his wife. The seconds passed and she didn’t freeze, didn’t pull away embarrassed. Awe, amazement—words to describe the well of emotion in Chad’s heart failed him. “You don’t have any idea just how much I love you, lass,” he murmured.

  Before she could reply, men carried metal tubs of ice-chilled sparkling juice to the tables and Becca and Josh began filling them. Plastic “glasses” passed from hand to hand until the room stood waiting for toasts. Josh started to speak, but Chuck stepped forward. Chad and Willow exchanged nervous glances. Cheri sent Willow a look that Chad suspected was meant to be reassuring. It failed.

  “Ahem! Attention, people!” The room quieted down a bit. “So, it’s time for a toast.”

  Becca’s eyes sought Willow and pleaded with her to stop him before he insulted half their guests. Willow stepped forward, but Chad held her back. “Give him a chance. Cheri’s done wonders with him lately.”

  “—hard to know what to say to a couple like this. Like Barney said, they’re kind of different. Josh—”

  Willow couldn’t stand it. “Chad, I’ve got to stop him.”

  “—more different from her if he tried, and Becca… Well, she’s kind of like my sister-in-law-to-be. She likes all that hard, dirty work stuff. Josh hates it. But he loves her. Look at him. I’ve learned a lot about how to make things work when they don’t seem like they can.”

  She relaxed just a little. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

  “So, I’m not allowed to say much more. Cheri’s over there giving me ‘the look.’ That means I’m gonna insult someone or whatever. So, I’ll just say congratulations and offer best wishes.” He glanced over at Cheri for approval and raised his glass. “To Josh and Becca!”

  Willow beamed and Chad marveled. His sister had managed to tame Chuck enough to prevent a huge social gaffe without completely emasculating him. Chad waited for Cheri to look his way and gave her a thumbs-up. “Good job,” he mouthed before turning to watch the cutting of the cake.

  Chuck’s shining moment tarnished in an instant. Just as Josh offered Becca a bite of cake, Chuck shouted, “C’mon, smash it! That’s no fun!”

  Willow glanced at him and then up at Chad. “He’s joking.”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “I don’t get him.” She stared at Chad. “I just try and I understand some things, but that—”

  “Is common in some circles. People think it’s funny.”

  “Thankfully, Josh is so CDO.”

  “CDO?”

  “So obsessive about his cleanliness.”

  “OCD, lass,” Chad chuckled. “It’s OCD.”

  “No one with such a disorder would ever allow the letters to be out of alphabetical order. Compulsive Disorder Obsessively works just as well and doesn’t disturb the orderliness necessary to the sanity of those afflicted.” Willow dropped her hands to her hips and silently dared him to argue.

  Chad didn’t. “Makes sense to me.” He accepted a piece of cake from a serving tray and handed one to her. “This better be as good as the one we sampled.”

  Willow’s eyes closed as she took the first bite. “Better—definitely better. I’ve got to learn to bake a cake like this.”

  “Chiffon cake, right? Mom says it’s not too hard. She’s made them before with lemon sauce. Great cake.”

  Willow took another bite before adding, “That’s it. If she wants to hold her grandchildren again, she will have to teach me to bake this cake—preferably bringing one to test mine against to compare with—just in case.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  After the cake, music filled the room once more—an odd mixture of Christian, classical, and latest hits. Dancers made awkward gyrations to some tunes, swayed to others, and occasionally managed discernible steps. Willow sat in the corner, her sons asleep on folded blankets on each side of her. Kari sat on her lap, her eyes following the movements of the people around her, mesmerized.

  Chad danced with Cheri, with his mother, with the homeless. The sight sent a lump into her throat that she couldn’t swallow. Mayra’s mother passed with a cup of punch and paused. “Are you thirsty? Can I get you some? Maybe something to snack on?”

  She started to demur. A guest didn’t need to wait on her. Still, the room was a bit warm and she could use a drink. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be right back. I took sips out of both of these because they were too full.” The woman set them on the table. “Do you want a sampler of the mini-kabobs? They’re delicious.” Before Willow could answer the woman took off, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll get some and eat what you don’t. These things are seriously amazing.”

  They’d better be. It took an army of volunteers to string meat, fruit, and veggies on those toothpicks.

  Mayra and her father danced past, twirling and laughing, just as the woman arrived. She paused, smiling at the sight, and then handed Willow the cup. “Mind if I sit with you? They’ll be out there for hours. Mayra can dance all day and Jay can’t tell her no.”

  “Sure. I’m—”

  “Willow Tesdall. I was at the conference last year when you spoke about living life to its fullest.” The woman leaned closer. “You caught me just as I had started to hate my life and helped me change my thinking.”

  Willow smiled. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. I know your daughter’s name, but—”

  “Sorry, Hope Brown. I go to church here with Becca and Josh. I hear a lot about you.”

  “So why did you hate your life?” Willow couldn’t imagine such a happy-looking woman being so discouraged as to “hate” her life.

  Hope ignored Willow for a moment, smiling and waving at her daughter and husband. She called out something that sounded like “rhumba, nanny” before turning back to Willow. “I’d planned to be a librarian—had everything mapped out. But when we got pregnant with Mayra, I didn’t want to work and pay someone else to be her pseudo-mother.” Hope blushed. “I said that to Becca at the time and was so embarrassed, but she understood.”

  “It makes sense. You want someone who can be as close to a second mother as possible, but…” Willow didn’t know how to explain what she meant. “I don’t know. I don’t want someone else to see the first smile, hear the first babbles, catch the first roll-over or whatever.”

  “Exactly. I got what I wanted, and Jay is so happy. He likes having us together all day. But it became tedious—monotonous.” She laughed at Willow’s expression. “Maybe if I had goats to milk, gardens to tend, and soap and candles to make. Three people don’t make much of a mess in town—not if you keep up with the pick up all the time. Shopping gets old when you’re trying to stick to a budget, and I love to read but it made me feel so lazy to lay around reading—especially when she slept so much that first year.”

  “And then you came to the conference and hearing that you needed to learn to love doing what you didn’t enjoy solved everything.” Willow shook her head. “I hardly believe that.”

  “No, but you helped me rekindle the passion I have for things like children’s literature and this mission. So, I did what I always thought was so stupid.”

  “And that made you not hate your life? Doing what you thought was stupid?”

  Laughing, Hope tried to explain as she picked up the plate of hors d’ oeuvres. “Okay, a lot of people I know in my position—married to a professional with a house and a child or two—they start these mommy blogs where they chronicle everything. I mean pictures of the elaborate birthday parties they plan, pi
ctures of the meal they cooked, pictures of their child doing this cute thing and that. Pictures of their new craft project or decorating idea. Hundreds—maybe millions of online magazines of people’s lives. I thought it was so stupid.”

  “And you don’t now.” Willow accepted the offered mini-kabobs and took a bite. They were more delicious than she’d expected.

  “Well, it’s like your workshop at the conference. You talked about how journals show you your past and help shape your future. It helped me realize that these blogs are probably women’s ways of proving to themselves that they actually accomplished something each day. I could use that. So I started my own.”

  “And what is a blog again? I’ve heard Cheri and Chad talk about them, but I can’t visualize it.”

  Hope pulled her phone from the purse dangling from her wrist. “Here. I’ll show you mine.” She slid her fingers around the surface of the phone and then passed it to Willow. “That’s my blog. It’s just a web page that you use kind of like a public diary or sometimes a place where you teach people something you do well, or maybe it’s something related to your business—”

  “Oh, that’s a lovely idea.” Willow stared at the banner at the top of the page. Hope and her husband smiled at her from one side and a laughing Mayra occupied the other. The blog title, “Enna seithi?” filled the middle with a tag line, “What’s up with the Browns.”

  “Is that Indian for ‘What’s up?’”

  “Tamil, yes.” Hope scrolled through different posts to show what she meant. “Like this one is just Mayra and me at the park. I took pictures of her and had someone take a couple of us together. Jay didn’t understand why it fit my theme of proving I did accomplish something, but I just wanted a reminder that I do this stuff with her. I don’t spend all day putting her off. Sometimes it feels like it. It feels like I say, ‘Not now. Maybe later,’ all day. I don’t want to be that mom. This post reminds me that I don’t.”