Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 2

by Chautona Havig

  “And this is a problem?”

  Chad looked embarrassed. Was he telling the truth about his feelings for this girl? His answer made even less sense. “She’s been isolated. Severely. She only knew her mother. No one else.”

  “No family, huh?”

  “Extensive family in Rockland and some in Chicago, I think, but no, she didn’t know anyone.”

  Leaning his arms on his desk and clasping his hands out in front of him, Christopher tried for a little clarification. “Didn’t know… how?”

  “The only contact number we had to call was her financial advisor.”

  “Poor little rich kid, huh?” It figured.

  “Well, yes and no. She has millions, but she doesn’t comprehend what that means.”

  Understanding dawned. The poor girl. Her mother should have made better preparations than leaving it to an understaffed police force like Fairbury to take care of her child. “How severe is it?”

  “Is what?”

  “Her mental condition. Can she live there alone or—”

  Chad’s laughter surprised him. “She’s not mentally challenged like you mean.”

  “None of this makes any sense, Chad.”

  “Well, she’s almost like an Amish girl thrust into our world, except that there was no community for her. Just her mother.”

  “She saved?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to go back out there at first, but I arrogantly thought that maybe I was supposed to expose her to Jesus. Instead I got a sight of faith I’ve never imagined.”

  “So why didn’t the church—” Christopher began.

  “How can the church do anything with someone they’ve never met?”

  “How can someone claiming to belong to Christ avoid His body? That’s like the hand saying to the leg, ‘I don’t want to bother with you.’”

  He listened as his son explained all about Kari, their unique situation, and their life. As they spoke, he asked questions that only seemed to frustrate Chad. Though he did listen to the current problem regarding money, his mind mulled Kari’s history. “She has a couple million invested somewhere because of some guy named Steve, who is a creep, and this Steve had a dad with enough money floating around to fork over a certified check for her mom to get out of town. Sounds like the Steven Solari.”

  “Television guy? The one whose son died a few years ago—murdered?”

  “Probably a coincidence,” he suggested. There was no reason to get his son curious about a man like Solari. “So this is all interesting, and I’m glad you wanted to share with me, but can you tell me what the point is?”

  Chad explained his problem. It didn’t make sense, but when Chad said, “She truly thinks her annual seed budget should be more than my annual car payments,” Christopher lost his patience.

  “How’d this girl ever get through school?”

  “Willow never went to school. Her mother tried, though not hard enough I’ll grant you, to teach her monetary value, but she liked that her daughter wasn’t affected by modern consumerism.”

  After mulling that idea over for a moment, he shook his head. “So, in other words, she’s a poster child for why homeschooling is a bad idea.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. In some ways, she has a better education than I do, and really, how many live that isolated? I think they usually have extended family, friends, churches, other homeschoolers… This is more of an example of why extreme isolationism or sheltering is not a good idea. When they get into the so-called ‘real world’ they’re vulnerable.”

  Willow forgotten, Christopher jumped on that. “Why ‘so-called?’”

  “The force has taught me that there are a lot of different ‘real worlds’ out there. The rich kids don’t have a clue about life in the inner city real world. The town of Fairbury interacts in the big city, but they don’t really know what it’s like to live there. And then there’s Willow. If you don’t do it yourself to survive, then she’s clueless.”

  Christopher didn’t want the conversation to end. It was the first man-to-man discussion he’d had with Chad since high school where neither of them was on the defensive. He felt petty knowing he relished his son’s need and desire for his advice.

  “Hmm… I think you’re being wise to be concerned. This Bill may be a good man, but good men make mistakes, and unfortunately, sometimes they give into temptation. He knew Willow’s mom was watching him carefully, but he has to know the daughter doesn’t have a clue. That’s an awful lot of temptation.”

  “How do I help her understand without losing her unique perspective? I don’t want to take away who she is.”

  They talked—re-bonded. Years of division dissolved into a level meeting ground of mutual respect. While the store ran like the smoothly oiled machine that it was, father and son fixed the kinks in the machine of their relationship; though not a smooth operation yet, it ran again. No matter how short-lived, Christopher was determined to enjoy every second of it.

  The intercom paged Christopher once more, ending their discussion. “I’ve got to go, son, but I’m glad you came. Bring her home at Thanksgiving. This girl needs a family, and Cheri always wanted a sister.”

  “Dad, I told you—”

  “We’ll informally adopt her—no marriage licenses necessary.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The rhythmic pounding of feet on the treadmill helped dull the drumming in his head. Two months hadn’t erased her footprint in his life. Seeing her at the meeting was hard—painful. Why did it have to be so difficult? Why did he care as much as he did? He’d known her for years. Why couldn’t he see her as the young daughter of a former client?

  Even now, he could feel her arm on his when making a request or encouraging him in some way. He saw her eyes roaming over his apartment, remembering the expression on her face after her first bite of sushi and the earnest way she listened to his thoughts on the lake project, until Bill thought he’d go crazy with the memories. If she’d only been willing to give it a chance…

  His hand shoved the lever to “off,” nearly breaking it in the process. What was wrong with him? In just a few weeks of contact with her, he’d fallen for Willow in a way he never had for anyone else. It was ridiculous, premature, and he knew it. He also knew it was genuine and the loss of what might have been hurt him more than any of his actual relationships ever had.

  He tried to be pragmatic about it, but the fact remained that his heart was heavy. She’d learned to be comfortable in the city—well, learned not to be afraid of it. She liked the store, the museums, and the botanical gardens—Bill sighed. He’d never taken her to the zoo. He hated broken promises.

  Without allowing himself to consider the consequences, Bill dialed her number. After several minutes of idle chatter about her fall preparations, her progress on the designs, and the apparent success of her physical therapy, Bill mentioned the weather forecast. “It’s supposed to be in the mid-sixties on Saturday…”

  “Wow. I thought maybe we were done with warmer weather.”

  “I promised you a trip to the zoo this fall. I think this is the last Saturday we’ll get a good view of all the animals.” Several seconds passed as he waited for a response—any response. At last, Bill hesitantly added, “I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I wouldn’t pressure you—I just,” his tone dropped to a whisper. “I missed you.”

  “I’ll come.”

  A full minute passed before he could bring himself to ask the one question he needed to know most, “Are you coming because I asked, or because you want to come?”

  “I want to come because you asked.

  The road to Fairbury had never seemed so long. His car whizzed around the curves and finally into Willow’s driveway. He hoped she was home—the thought made him laugh. Of course, she was home. Where would she go and how would she get there?

  He didn’t see anyone in the house, the barn, or anywhere nearby. He sighed at the sight of the wood stacked against the house. She’d cut, split, a
nd stacked it all. Why did she live like this? He didn’t understand. Saige yapped at him from the barn, but he ignored it.

  Just as he turned to leave, he heard a voice. “Chuck! Hey!”

  Down past the barn, coming up from the trees, Chuck saw Willow carrying a bow over one shoulder and something unidentifiable on the other. As they met in the middle, he realized that she carried a turkey. “Did you shoot that thing?”

  “Yep. For Thanksgiving. Mother always cleaned it after I shot it.” She winked at him. “Do you want to clean it for me?”

  “I wouldn’t know how, but I’ll help you eat it.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Was that an invitation for an invitation for Thanksgiving?”

  He swallowed hard. Honest or go for the kill? One look in her eyes and he tried a novel approach—honesty. “It was a hint for one—I guess.” Ok, partial honesty.

  Willow grinned. “You’re on. You bring the cranberry sauce.”

  “Do you make pumpkin pie?”

  “Of course,” she exclaimed insulted.

  “Sweet potatoes and marshmallow crème?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Ew.”

  “I accept.”

  At the barn, Chuck watched as she put several huge pots on the stove and filled them with water. He grew sick as she tore out a few feathers and then cut the bird removing the entrails. Weak, he sat down, turning, his head as her knife dug into the neck and she reached for the crop.

  “That is so disgusting. Forget that, it’s vile. Maybe tofu turkey isn’t such a bad idea.”

  “We make great turkey and dressing. Oh and gravy—our gravy is great.”

  Half an hour, and a doused turkey later, Willow talked to him as she plucked it. “What’s your favorite animal?”

  “The one that is leaving me alone,” he groused as he attempted subtlety, shoving the dog away.”

  “I mean at the zoo.”

  “Zoos are great,” Chuck said. “They stick the animals where they can’t bother you, but you can look at them if you feel like it.”

  “Don’t be obnoxious.”

  “Look who’s talking obnoxious,” he whined. This dog—”

  Willow interrupted him. “You didn’t say which one was your favorite.”

  Chuck stared at her, stunned. “I think that’s a first.”

  “First of what?”

  He took a deep breath, stuffing down rising emotions. “No one ever asks me a question twice.” He dropped his head before he met her curious gaze. “They’re usually relieved that the question died.”

  “Well, if I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked, so of course I asked again.”

  “I like flamingos.”

  “Oh, do they have flamingos?”

  Seeing the question in her eyes, he decided to answer it before she asked. “They’re bold, beautiful, and so graceful.”

  The sun set with the color of flamingos streaking through the clouds as she finally shoved the turkey in the freezer and wiped her arm across her forehead. “I need a shower.”

  “Hey, after that shower, we can go get something to eat and see a movie or something… We could even go to Brunswick and go bowling if you like?”

  “I’ve never been to Brunswick.”

  Chuck grinned. She hadn’t said no. “Go take that shower.”

  “Go milk Willie.”

  His grin grew as he adjusted his suggestion. “Milk the goat, and then take your shower.”

  “So if you get three strikes it’s a turkey? Are you kidding me?” Willow’s laughter brought smiles to people all around them.

  “Well, I thought it was appropriate.”

  “So you got your turkey today and I got mine,” she chortled. Willow picked up her ball. “My turn. No gutters.”

  “You miss the gutter, and I’ll buy you ice cream when we’re done.”

  “I’ll miss,” she insisted as she swung the ball. The second it rolled into the gutter, she set her hands on her hips, swiveled and glared at him. “Next swing.”

  “Bowl.”

  “Whatever.”

  He poked her rib. “You’re sounding kinda modern.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Indifferent.”

  She grinned. “I told Chad you were indifferent to me. You just proved me right. You might be my new hero. I am discovering that I like being right.” Her next ball rolled painfully slowly down the lane. It wove slightly back and forth and hit the center pin. Four pins toppled, one wobbled but didn’t fall. She stood disgusted before turning away muttering, “Slacker.”

  Chuck grinned. Only Willow Finley would insult a bowling pin for not falling over as expected. “I owe you ice cream. And you have now broken the ten point mark!”

  “Is there a prize for getting the least amount of points? I think I’d win.”

  “Want me to have them blow up the bumpers?”

  She looked at him blankly. “Bumpers?”

  “Long tubes that fill up the gutters and make the ball bounce around until it knocks over pins.”

  “What a cheater’s way of not learning. Sounds like something for little kids like those training wheels I wanted and Chad wouldn’t get me.”

  “Well…” Chuck wasn’t sure it was a good idea to mention that they were for children.

  “And besides, I think I could manage to consistently just miss it at the back up there anyway.”

  By the end of the game, she’d racked up an impressive seventeen points. “I want ice cream. I think this game must be like woodwork. I can’t do it.”

  “Sure you can—once you get used to it and your leg heals a bit more.”

  “You think my leg—”

  Chuck was sure of it. “I can see it in the way you move up the lane. Walking on the street you hardly limp at all now, but here where both floor and shoes are slick, you favor it more.”

  As Willow removed her shoes, she glanced down the lane. Grabbing Chuck’s ball, as well as hers, she returned them to the racks. On the way back to his car, Willow nudged Chuck. “We have to do this again. I’m going to learn this. Does Fairbury have an alley?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Drat.”

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea? I mean—” Chad tried again. “Aunt Libby said something the other day that I thought made a lot of sense.”

  “What’d she say?”

  Just her tone told him how much his aunt’s opinion seemed to matter to her. It seemed a bit premature, considering how little time they’d spent together. Then again, Aunt Libby was one of those women who made friends for life in the space of an hour.

  “Well,” he began awkwardly. How do you tell someone that you aren’t interested in her as much as some might wish you were? “Aunt Libby was warning me, she was afraid I might— well, that spending so much time together—”

  “She thought you were following in Bill’s footsteps.”

  “Right—well, she thought I might anyway. And she warned me. She said that you needed time to have real friends without any romantic strings attached. I think she’s right.”

  Willow assured him she wasn’t looking for anything of the kind. “Bill knows I’m not moving there; I know he’s not moving here. Romance just isn’t going to happen. And Mrs. Sullivan is right. There’s too much in my life that is new for me to add any more.” She smiled as if she had a secret. “Except for maybe bowling.”

  “Bowling?”

  “Yeah,” she said, still smiling. “I went bowling in Brunswick with Chuck last night. I got a score of seventeen, ate ice cream, and walked the streets of Brunswick. It’s bigger than Fairbury, but it’s not as big as Rockland, I don’t think. I saw the police station. Is that where you go sometimes?”

  “Yeah. So you went out with Chuck, huh?”

  He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. While his responses must have been reasonably normal, Chad’s mind spun out in unreasonable directions. Why was he perfectly content with the idea of Bill and Willow
spending a day together, but the idea of her enjoying herself with Chuck kicked him in the gut? It didn’t make sense and he knew it.

  As he climbed into his truck, Chad remembered something. He slammed the door shut and punched her number. Through the living room window, he could see her silhouette as she answered the phone. “I forgot.”

  “What?”

  “I talked to my dad yesterday and he invited you to Thanksgiving at our house.”

  Chad didn’t know what he’d expected her to say. He understood that she might not be interested in spending her day with a group of strangers, but he’d hoped she might. Her answer, however, surprised him. “I can’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “I invited Chuck to eat at my house. Actually, he kind of invited himself.”

  Shaking his head in amazement, Chad sighed. “That sounds like Chuck.”

  Disappointment filled Willow’s voice. “I wish I had known. I wouldn’t have gone turkey hunting and then the topic wouldn’t have come up, and I wouldn’t have invited him.”

  “You want to come?” That surprised him.

  “Of course, but I can’t just call Chuck and say, ‘Sorry, I got a better invitation.’“

  “He would,” Chad thought irritably. “See if Chuck wants to come to my house too.”

  “Really? I know you don’t like him.”

  He stifled the surprise in his voice. “I never said that.”

  “Chad, you didn’t have to. Anyone could tell. Chuck’s deliberately blind much of the time, but he’s not stupid.”

  “That’s what you think.” Aloud, he assured her his invitation was genuine. “Call and see if he’ll consider dinner with the Tesdall-Sullivan clan.”

  Just as he started to click off the phone, Willow’s voice rushed back onto the line. “Hey, does your mom need a turkey?”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “So, where do we want to go first?”

  Willow glanced over the brochure map and finally chose the Asia Park. “I want to see tigers and the pandas.”