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“Ok, Luke, now what?” Chad wiped his brow, thrilled that he’d managed to get the body of the dulcimer assembled.
“Sand.”
Chad sighed. He hated sanding. However, Luke pushed a chair his way and handed him a ball of steel wool. As he rubbed the wood to a glassy smooth polish, Chad talked. He talked about his dreams, his goals, and how it seemed that every day he walked further away from them to the opposite extreme of life.
“I mean, I always thought I’d become a cop. I did and I’m really not sorry. I want to be a cop. I just thought I’d be doing drug busts, or maybe negotiate hostage situations, or even internal affairs- Instead I ended up in Fairbury and I turned down my shot at the east side precinct.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No, that’s just it. I don’t. I keep seeing myself as part of the Fairbury police for a long time.”
Luke listened. He was an expert listener. He also was worth listening to when he spoke. Chad rambled about his house, how everyone complained of him living in limbo and how now he didn’t know where to start, what to do, and where to go.
“You just told me how much you love what is right in front of you yet you reject it.”
Chad set the dulcimer on the workbench and stood. “I know. It’s just so ridiculous.”
“Have you considered talking to her about it?”
A stunned look took Chad’s features hostage. “I’m-” he stammered, “I’m just supposed to say, ‘hey, why don’t we get married and then we don’t have to worry about what happens to our friendship if one of us gets married.’ Oh yeah, that makes sense.”
“Well, I’d give her a long time to think about it, and I’d probably make sure you don’t sound like you’re doing her a favor,” he teased. “Think about it.”
***
“Willow, I talked to my mom and she wants you to come for the day on Friday.”
“Well the last bus leaves for Fairbury-”
“That’s another thing,” he interrupted. ”I get Friday off and I don’t have to be at work until six on Saturday. We could stay over-”
“I have a goat-”
Grinning, Chad interrupted again. “But I have a solution!”
“What’s that?”
“I bring the oldest Allen kid out here and we teach him how to do it. That way, if you need to be gone, you have someone you can call if I can’t do it.”
“Why not just come home?” Willow liked the idea of more time with Chad’s mother but didn’t quite understand making long term plans to be gone from home more often.
“Let’s face it, most of the time, you can’t. Most of the time it’s not just about someone to bring in the chickens or milk the goat. You’re usually very busy and need to be here but this time of year is your opportunity to build relationships with people and if that means being away from home, then why not?”
“I don’t know-” she hedged. “Friday is your birthday. Your mother would probably prefer to have you there without me.”
“Are you calling mom a liar? Her exact words were, and I quote, ‘Tell Willow I want to take her to little India and a few of the craft stores while she’s in town.’”
Willow passed Chad his plate of roasted chicken and vegetables. “Do you think he can learn it?”
“Who?”
“The Allen’s boy- Caleb.”
“You’ll go?”
“I have to meet Grandmother at the Mad Hatter- what a name, at eleven thirty.”
For several minutes, they concentrated on their meals, and Willow thought about Chad’s suggestion. Was it irresponsible to ask someone to do her work? “Should I let Grandmother borrow Mother’s journals? I was thinking especially of the early ones.”
“No. I think she’d enjoy reading them and I know they’d be a lot of encouragement to her but you don’t know this woman. People change. She might not be the same person your mother loved and trusted so long ago.”
“You’re right. They’re not something I can loan and not expect back. I remember mother saying that you never loaned what you couldn’t give away. I’m not sure why- who would I have loaned anything to? I didn’t know anyone.”
Chad sensed her dissatisfaction. “You know, you could let me take them into town and make copies of them.”
“Copies?”
Somehow, Kari had never had a reason to explain the function and purpose of a copy machine. Willow was fascinated at the idea of a quick picture instantly printed on paper. I want to see one of those machines work sometime.”
Without another word, she left her half-full plate and hurried to retrieve her mother’s first two journals. “Thank you Chad.”
After dinner, Chad helped clean up the dishes, and while Willow mopped the floor, he loaded the stoves for the night before calling a goodnight and returning to his cruiser. “I’ll bring Caleb out tomorrow around four-thirty ok?”
“Thanks Chad!”
Once she heard the crunch of his tires on the new layer of snow, Willow crept from the kitchen and retrieved her knitting bag from the library. Though she was temped to sit down and start knitting, Willow forced herself to hurry upstairs and change into pajamas. Once on the couch, she smiled. The candles were also lit. Chad’s thoughtfulness warmed her heart and made the room seem less empty.
“Lord, I am lonely. Summer wasn’t so bad. Fall was bearable. Winter- I don’t know if I can make it until spring.”
Her knitting needles clicked expertly as she worked the final packet and collar of Chad’s birthday sweater. If she worked fast, she could get it done and be able to block it overnight. She held the piece up in the light and studied it. The heathered oatmeal merino yarn was perfect. She’d fallen in love with the Aryan sweater with an Irish collar years before and rejoiced when she noticed Chad’s birthday on his driver’s license one day.
The quiet seemed oppressive. She tried singing but felt even lonelier than ever as her voice echoed in empty rooms with no harmony accompanying her. Anxious to finish, Willow knitted faster. She dropped stitches, ripped out small sections, and tried again determined to go to bed as soon as possible.
In bed, the silent house made sense. The stark emptiness around her felt comfortable and normal when cuddled in bed with blankets and pillows around her. During the day, she and her mother had spent so much of their time doing their own things that it wasn’t unusual to be alone during the day. However, at dinner until they parted for bed, she’d had someone to talk to- to read with, and to share her dreams.
“I want my Mother,” she whispered mournfully as she wove the last yarn end into the sweater. “I am tired of being alone.”
***
Chad arrived at four-thirty with Caleb Allen and burst into the empty kitchen. “She’s not here-”
“Someone is in the barn, I think. What smells so good?”
Under the lid of the Dutch oven, Chad found a roast. “Oh man, roast.”
“She eats well anyway.”
“She eats a lot! She works hard an in summer puts away twice as much as I do.”
The ‘men’ found Willow in the summer kitchen dipping candles. Chad watched amazed as she dipped the candles in her large pot, dipped them in ice water, then dipped again in the pot. Paper cups lined the counters and rows of tiny tea lights sat cooling in paper lined trays.
“Sorry Chad, can you show him what to do? I got a late start today and now I’m really behind.”
“Only if I’m invited to dinner.”
“Sure. Both of you even-”
Caleb grinned but shook his head. “I wish I could but mom’s making my favorite casserole. I’ve been bugging her about it for weeks so I need to be there.”
Chad stood close to the stove and watched carefully as Willow dipped her candles in the tallow, dipped them in the ice bath, and then back to the tallow vat again. “What’s in there?”
“Tallow- beef fat from the cow, beeswax, alum, and some cinnamon oil.”
“Odd, I thought I smelled lavender.” He sniffed the pot. Definitely cinnamon. “Must be your hair,” he thought to himself.
“I am done with the plain and the lavender but I like cinnamon for December and February.”
Caleb found the scene most illuminating. He couldn’t wait to get home and share with his mother. Their family had been praying for Chad and Willow almost since the funeral but definitely since Willow’s conniption at church that Sunday. It looked like they must be righteous people because their fervent prayers appeared to be effectual.
As he led Chad out the door, he noticed Willow humming the tune she’d loved so much from his Argosy Junction CD. He glanced back and took a look at the candles all over the room and wondered just how many candles she’d made that day. How did she manage to get so much done without her mother’s help?
Dinner was delicious. After a long day literally slaving over a hot stove, Willow was exhausted. Chad sent her upstairs for a shower and promised to get the stoves loaded while she was gone.
She returned wearing the warm up suit Cheri had insisted she take home. It felt just as comfortable as her pajamas but didn’t feel like she was undressed while Chad was at her house. “Oh you got it out. Thanks!”
Willow sat on her rug loom and grabbed a handful of pieces. “I dumped my tray yesterday and now they’re all a mess.”
Without a word, Chad started sorting her colors while Willow chattered freely about her day, the candles, and the pattern of her rug. “I’m so excited. It’ll match the other one. I’ve never been especially fond of that long tree one in my room but I thought I’d like it when I made it.”
“What will you do with it?” For Chad, the idea that Willow would replace something before it was worn out.
“Well, I’ll probably add it to the dead ones in the attic. Mother thought they acted like insulation to help keep the house warmer so we put our old ones up there. I shouldn’t have done this. It’s really quite wasteful, the rug is just barely wearing on the edges-”
“I wondered-” It felt rude to ask but Chad imagined the rug lying behind his couch between it and the bar that separated his living room from his kitchen and loved the mental picture. It wasn’t too feminine and it’d make his family happy to see some kind of decorating attempt.
“So, what would a guy have to do to convince you to let him have the rug when you’re done with it?”
Her head snapped up from the frame where her hands deftly worked the wool strips in and out of the backing. “You want it?”
“I think it’d look cool between the couch and my bar-”
“Sure! Take it home tonight.”
Chad shook his head and murmured something about being patient but Willow was off on another tangent about her plans for replacing the rugs in the library with book quote rugs. “It’ll be forever before those rugs wear out so I have time to choose my quotes.”
After a few more moments of silence, she sighed contentedly. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to. This week has been especially lonely at night.”
Chad’s throat constricted and his mouth went dry. He’d just been mulling that their relationship was perfect the way it was and he didn’t need to introduce anything as pressure-filled as marriage into the recipe. “Aww Willow,” he choked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”
“It wasn’t so bad in summer and fall but it’s so quiet in here at night. I like the solitude sometimes but other times it’s just- just-” she paused and then whispered, “Awful.”
His hand covered hers for a moment. “This is exactly why going to Rockland is a good idea.” The word quiet bounced through his mind for a while. “Hey, would audio books be enjoyable?”
“Audio books?”
“Books read aloud and on CD or MP3.” A blank look masked her face. He waited several seconds and tried again. “Would you enjoy listening to books read aloud by others?”
She reached for her Alexa Hartfield novel but he waved her back. “I’m not reading it. Reading aloud isn’t my thing but I can take care of too much quiet when you want to work on something.”
She shrugged and grabbed another pile of blue wool from his knee. “It sounds wonderful. I don’t really understand but if you think it’s a good idea take my card and go buy it before I go crazy.”
For a week, Willow left the letters on the kitchen table, open, and easily perused. She mucked barn stalls and prayed. She cleaned the chicken coop and prayed. She cooked, knitted, hooked her rug, and prayed. She milked the new goat whom Chad christened, ‘Ditto’ and prayed. Then, she prayed some more.
For hours, she worked on the foundation site for her forthcoming greenhouse. Her original plans had been scrapped for a lean-to design kit that she’d found in one of her mother’s stacks of catalogs. It was more expensive and larger than she’d planned but the added advantage of putting it next to the barn and close to the house was enough incentive to move fences and arrange plans for a larger scale operation than ever. She’d have lettuce in January just like Mr. Tesdall’s big grocery store. Oh, and she prayed with every shovel, every moved wire, and every nail.
Saturday, a week after the letters arrived, was December first. She awoke with a child-like delight that not even the loss of her mother’s help and camaraderie tempered. Chad was coming to spend the day, the goat was giving milk like nothing she’d ever had, and she’d gotten a call from the greenhouse company that her kit was on its way.
After breakfast, she cleaned the kitchen and left a pile of pancakes on the stove warming for whenever Chad arrived. With a girlish giggle, she hurried upstairs into the attic and pulled down the box of artificial greenery. Chad found her tying ‘pine’ swags across the front porch, wrapping the posts, and adding large deep red bows to the pivotal places.
“Hey, looks great! What do I do?” he called as he jumped from the truck.
“I’ve got pancakes on the stove if you’re hungry first.”
“Be back to help you when they’re gone,” he promised.
By the time Chad returned, the front porch looked like a Thomas Kincaide Christmas painting. “Can you go up into the attic and get the box in the middle of the floor marked, ‘Porch tree’?”
“You have a tree for your porch?”
“Humor me. I want my tree.”
He hurried upstairs and returned quickly with the large box. Amazed, he watched as she screwed a long pole into a traditional tree stand. “It’s leaning to the left.”
“Straighten it will you?”
As he held the pole straight, he asked the obvious question. “Is there a reason you are putting your tree out here?”
“It’s for the birds.”
“Then why do it?” he asked missing the lack of sarcasm in her voice.
“For the birds. You need to clean your ears.”
“Sooooo,” Chad asked once more, “Why do the birds need their own tree?”
“They don’t. It just gets them to come close enough to the house that I can watch them from the couch. The chickadees are quite friendly and entertaining when the jays aren’t around.”
“Ahh. I see you still have the letters out.”
Willow seemed to wilt before his eyes making Chad feel like a heel. “I know. I keep praying and praying about it and I don’t know what to do. At times like this, I really miss Mother’s confidence. She’d know what to do and she’d just do it.”
“I think your indecision is because you know your mother’s judgment was clouded by fear and you don’t want to repeat that. While it’s understandable for her, it isn’t for you and you’re wise enough to know that.”
They worked together assembling her unusual tree. Branches slid into carefully drilled holes in the ‘trunk’. When she didn’t like something, she pulled it out, tried a different one, and stood back to see the result. “Where’d you get this tree?”
“Mother bought several the first few years trying to find one that didn’t get mangled in storage and finally cut them apart to make two perfect trees. This one used to be in the spare room during December. I’d wake up Christmas morning and the tree would be all set up and decorated for me as a surprise.”
“You didn’t decorate with your mother?” He found that idea horrifying.
“I helped with the downstairs tree but you know how little hands are. They don’t make for an attractive look when the top third or half is almost bare. This way I got to help and Mother got to have a perfect tree too.”
“So how did it end up out front?”
Willow smiled remembering. “I decorated the living room tree one year when mother was sick and she liked it so she told me to take the other one back to the attic and confessed why she’d always done that.” She stood back from the tree and nodded satisfied. “That’s perfect. I’ll make the ornaments later. I want to get started inside and I’m cold!”
Inside, Chad helped her carry down boxes of decorations from the attic. With her guidance, Chad wrapped the banisters carefully in imitation evergreen commenting all the while that he’d expected live trees and décor. “I can’t believe you have all this fake stuff.”
“We live where we heat by fire and don’t have electricity. We needed something that could handle nearby candles and dry heat. Mother said these trees were flame resistant or something like that.”
The logic couldn’t be denied so Chad wrapped, humming The Holly and the Ivy as he retraced his steps tying ribbons to regular intervals. His festive mood heightened Willow’s enjoyment and she hurried into the library several minutes later, he heard the scratchy sound of an old 78 Victrola playing and Bing Crosby’s voice crooning about a White Christmas.
He clambered down the stairs and leaned against the doorjamb as she sorted albums. “You have a Victrola. I should have guessed. Come on.”
He grabbed her hand and twirled her into the living room half-waltzing- half two stepping as he did. “Come on, it’s Christmas!”
“Not yet it isn’t.”
“So,” he continued as though she hadn’t argued the point. “Are you up for company on Christmas?”
“Why?” The song ended and she put on another before going back to decorate the windows again.
“Because I have to work from ten till six Christmas eve/morning and then again from two until ten.”
Her eyes sought his from across the room looking miserable. “That is terrible. Why-”
“They let me have it off last year even though it was my first year. A lot of stations would have made the rookie work Christmas but Fairbury doesn’t work that way. I knew I’d have to work both days so I went ahead and took the small break so that Martinez could go to Rockland to be with his family longer.”
“You’re a good man Chad.”
“Well,” he teased, “It’s about time you figured that out. I’ve been telling you for months-”
“There is a box labeled popcorn strings, can you get it and start hanging them?”
“You saved popcorn strings?”
Willow’s laughter blended with Up On the Housetop perfectly. “No silly, they’re crocheted. We worked on them all summer one year. They were fast but you know there just isn’t much time in summer for extra stuff.”
The strings were amazing. From just a few feet away, you’d never know the ‘popcorn’ was crochet thread and the ‘cranberries’ were wooden beads. Chad looped and draped expertly thanks to a Christmas fanatic of a mother and a perfectionist sister.
“Stairs are done. Next?”
“Doorways,” she replied without looking at his handiwork. He felt a little miffed that she didn’t care to even glance at the work but a question from her interrupted his thoughts.
“So the ladies Bible study is having a gift drawing. I have someone I’m supposed to buy for. We can’t spend any more than twenty dollars but I’m confused.”
“Sounds pretty straight forward. What’s the problem?”
“Well, is that twenty dollars for the gift, for materials to make a gift, and for people who buy everything, what about their wrapping paper and their card? Do they count that as part of the twenty-”
Chad dropped the length of evergreen and went to switch out the album as she chattered. There was something else to this question and he wasn’t sure how to get to the bottom of it because he knew if Willow knew the real question she would have just asked it. “Willow, are you concerned about the gift itself, the limits, or who you got as a name?”
“All of it. I’m not supposed to tell who it is but I guess that’s so the girls can’t do a process of elimination so I could tell you, right?”
“Right. Who’d you get?”
“Lee,” she admitted ruefully. “I already made her a skirt but I don’t know exactly how much I spent making it. I’ve never paid much attention to that.”
“Lee loves your tote bags. I’ve heard her talk about swiping one of yours when you’re no looking. Maybe you could make one to match the skirt.”
“I can’t give her both, it’d be over that limit-”
“So give her the tote for the exchange and give her the skirt because you were going to do it anyway.” Chad didn’t quite see the difficulty but he listened and decorated doorways like a pro.
“That might work.”
“Now what?” he queried looking around the room and loving the already festive air. Christmas was his favorite time of the year.
“Can you take that table by the window and carry it up to the spare room?”
Chad emptied the table of its vase of dried flowers, hand embroidered doily, and hefted it over his head carefully avoiding the ceiling. He shook his head in disbelief as he saw a pile of old blankets protecting the floor and the wall and a woodpile against one wall. Only Willow Finley had a woodpile inside and outside her house.”
Once the living room was slightly rearranged, Willow called for tree number two and began assembling it to the sounds of Deanna Durbin singing Silent Night. “Hey, would you put the branches in? I’ll set up candles if you can get the branches in for me.”
For the next hour, they worked silently but in a harmony even Chad couldn’t deny. Wordlessly, they passed each other things they needed, often before the other realized it, and a feeling of familiarity stirred in Chad’s heart. It reminded him of his parents. They often worked for hours on a project, never speaking, always complimenting one another in their actions, until finally as they completed the job, they stepped back, arms around each other, and admired the final product. Maybe dad and Luke-
“Chad? If you have to work Christmas, how will you get any rest? You go to bed after six and have to be up and at work by two- I don’t see how-”
“I have a plan if you want to hear it.”
“Well obviously,” she teased, “Or I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Mom and Dad are going to do Christmas on New Year’s Eve so I can be there- you’re invited by the way. I thought if you felt like company, they could come spend the day with you. I’d come here after work, take a nap, spend a couple of hours with you guys, and then go to work again. We could have dinner during my lunch hour- mom would help.”
“I love it. I’ll write your mother a letter today!”
Setting down her ornaments, Willow hurried upstairs and returned with a box of hand embellished stationary. Curled on the couch and surrounded by evidence of Christmas, Willow wrote a letter of invitation to Chad’s parents and handed it to him for approval.
Mr. and Mrs. Tesdall,
Chad has told me of his work schedule and I thought perhaps that you might like to come to my house for the day. Chad is planning to have dinner with me and your company would bless him as well, I am sure.
I am hoping to hear you’ll come,
Willow Anne Finley
While he read, she worked on another letter. He waited rather impatiently for Willow to finish and exchanged the letters eagerly. As he read the second letter, Willow folded the first letter carefully and addressed it waiting patiently for Chad to finish reading her second one.
Dear Grandmother Finley,
I was pleased to receive your letter last week. I’ve been praying over your suggestion for a week now and I think a trip to the city might be fun and a good way to meet you. I know you were here for Mother’s funeral but I confess, I don’t remember much of anything about that day.
If it would be convenient for you, I could come into Rockland next Friday, December 7, and meet you wherever you’d like to meet if you contact me in time. I can’t leave before seven in the morning and can’t get home after seven at night but otherwise, I can adjust my schedule to yours.
Respectfully,
Willow Anne Finley
“You could add your phone number in a post script so she can just call and you don’t have to worry about mail problems.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed delightedly, “I’ll do that. Is there anything else you’d change or add?”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell her you didn’t give that sensationalist reporter the interview she thinks you did.”
Willow fidgeted with her letter for a minute. “I didn’t see how it would help them with the pain of anything so why bring it up again?”
***
After dinner, when all of the boxes and containers were safely stored back in the attic closet, Willow made hot chocolate, brought out the sugar cookies she’d made the night before, and handed them to Chad. Reaching for her Bible, she handed it to Chad. “Would you read Luke?”
Chad took the Bible awkwardly. He’d always hated reading aloud. “Well-”
“Please?”
The pleading in her tone and the eagerness of her expression was impossible to deny. He took the Bible and turned absently to Luke as he watched her walk around the room lighting the dozens of tiny candles everywhere. Almost instantly, it transformed a homey living room into a fairyland.
She sat at his feet and grabbed a box he hadn’t noticed from under the table smiling as he noticed hand drawn holly and berries decorating the box. The Finley women even decorated boxes! “In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus…”
As he read, his voice halting and faltering at times, Willow arranged her tree blocks, tea light candles, and fairies into an arrangement on the table. “… While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”
Log upon log she designed her house, occasionally changing this section or that based upon her opinion of the stability of the ‘floor’. “…‘Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.’“
Once each floor was carefully planned, she added tiny trees, stars, and snowflakes creating a winter wonderland on her coffee table. “…‘Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.‘”
Tea light candles came next, her hand carefully measuring the heat from each candle to ensure it didn’t overheat any portion of the structure. “… And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”
Finally, once she arranged everything exactly how she wanted, she nestled each fairy in a special place in the house. Satisfied with her work, Willow leaned against Chad’s legs and the couch and listened as he finished reading the passage. “… ‘Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.’“
Only the occasional crackle of wood in the woodstove broke the absolute silence and stillness around them. Candle light flickered sending delightful shadows dancing across the room but still they sat, each alone in their thoughts. Each pondered, like Mary, the thoughts in their hearts.
Willow tried to imagine a Christmas without her mother. She remembered the singing as they made cookies, the secrets, and fun in choosing the perfect gift, and the anticipation of almost their favorite day of the year. A tear splashed onto her cheek, then another one. Her heart heavy at the finality of yet another chapter in her life, she finally turned her head into Chad’s knee, rested her arm across it, and laid her head on it weeping softly.
Unaware of Willow’s distress, Chad’s eyes roamed over the room. He couldn’t help but marvel at the childhood Willow had stored in her heart. The tree was bedecked with ornaments that were priceless in both their artistic intricacy and the love and time invested to create them. Her toys were a part of her adult world and yet no one could accuse Willow of immaturity or childishness. Child-like at times? Definitely.
What a life her children would have! His mind’s eye saw her sitting at that very coffee table and helping a little girl with pigtails build the perfect structure to house new fairies, angels, and, of course, candles. He pictured them writing and illustrating their own stories and wondering if Willow had books in her library that had never been seen or read by anyone but she and her mother. “Every child should live like this,” he thought to himself. Then as an afterthought, he allowed one other idea to cross his mind. “Or at least, I want mine to.”
About the same time he felt a damp spot on his knee, Chad heard her sniffle. “Aww Willow, I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. I just cry over everything these days. I’m getting used to it. It used to hurt more to cry but now it’s like washing a burn- it’s soothing but you know it can’t last forever.”
Chad’s hand smoothed her hair but he said nothing. Neither of them knew how long they sat there, not talking, but enjoying the sights surrounding them. “Merry Christmas Willow,” Chad whispered.
Saturday morning Willow awoke to sun streaming through her windows and a few inches of snow on the ground. Wrapped in her favorite robe and feet swaddled in wooly warmness, she stood at the window and enjoyed the beauty of fields of snow. The dusting over the tree branches gave the farm the feel of fairyland and she sighed contentedly at the sight.
Willow loved snow in the fields and hated it in the yard. What looked like a white blanked of cotton over fields looked like a slushy mess after a few tramps to the barn, chickens, and back again. The first day of snow was always a treat in the Finley home. On that day, they ignored the extra work, extra mess, and concentrated on the beauty because the rest of winter would demand they pay attention to it. They made snow ice cream, drank hot chocolate, ate chicken soup, and huddled next to the stove reading, knitting, or daydreaming.
The clock struck seven. If she didn’t get a move-on, the day would be gone before she could relax and enjoy it! Willow pulled on her favorite jeans, t-shirt, and chamois flannel blouse. As she hurried downstairs, her fingers expertly braided her hair into a long French braid. By the backdoor, her boots and over boots sat ready for wear.
By the time she left the kitchen, the stove was crackling, the tea kettle warming, a bowl of dry oats waited for the kettle and a Dutch oven of water sat waiting for heat to do its job. Outside, Saige barked her welcome and rolled playfully in the snow. Ice containers waited for a trip downstairs to the ice cellar. She shivered in the brisk air but knew that with a few minutes work, she’d warm up enough to shed a coat if she wore one.
Grabbing the snow shovel from the barn wall, Willow cleared a strip from the chicken yard and threw open the door. The huge thermometer on the side of the coop read twenty-six degrees. “Kind of cold ladies but there’s some bare dirt out there if you want to run around-” The birds were out of their coop before she could say cold. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you-”
In the barn, she spread a fresh layer of straw in the stalls opposite the inhabited ones and moved the animals across the aisle. Water, hay, a little grain for the cow and the barn animals were all set.
Willow grabbed a chicken, container of soup, and packet of dog meat from the freezer, poured some milk in the cat pans and glanced around the barn with one final look. She hadn’t seen the barn cats for a week or two but they’d be waiting for milk again now that it was cooler. A mouse scurried from one hay bale to the next. “They’d better catch that thing or I’m cutting off their room and board,” she muttered as she slid the upper barn window open and then shut the door.
In the house, she poured water from the teakettle into her cup and added her tea ball. Barely covering the oats with boiling water, she set a plate on top and retrieved a jar of peaches from the pantry. Willow scooped several sliced of peaches onto the plate, replaced the jar lid, and stowed the jar in the icebox. It needed more ice.
Her chicken in the pot, oats down the hatch, and kitchen cleaned up and looking spiffy, Willow shrugged off her flannel shirt and boots, slipped back on her slippers, and sighed. It was a beautiful day. By nine o’clock, she was curled on the chaise reading Alexa Hartfield’s book and sipping tea.
Her eyes closed and she listened to the sounds of her house. The fire crackled in the stove, Saige barked outside and as she opened her eyes to read once more, she heard the gentle shushing of the page as she turned it. There was no laughter, no thumping up and down the stairs, no one calling for mom to help with this or that, or good-natured protests of unfair treatment. There was no furnace to make a strange clicking noise just before the whoosh of warm air shot through the vents. No sirens wailed; no car doors thumped; all was quiet in her world.
Just after noon, she stretched as she stood to heat her stew and noticed the mail truck at the end of the lane. Grabbing her keys, her flannel shirt, and a thick sweater, Willow pulled on her boots and stepped outside. “Want to grab the mail with me Saige?”
Willow rarely got the mail. Sometimes weeks went by without a single letter or catalog but if they saw the truck stop, the Finley women would take a break in their day and walk to the mailbox to see what might be in it. Down the lane she walked, Saige dashing in circles, racing ahead of her and then zipping back to urge her onward. She pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked the box. She remembered the day her mother returned from the mailbox with Coke drenched, ant covered mail. She’d spent the next three days building the concrete enshrouded mailbox. Designed with a cut away bottom, mail dropped from the ‘door’ into the concrete tomb below. The mailman had a key to the flap door and the Finley women had a separate key to the locked door on the back of the mail monstrosity. But it worked, and it was normal to Willow now.
Two letters and a new catalog from Hancock’s of Paducah- it was a good day. The name on the return address of one of the letters made her heart race and she hurried home to read it. The other letter looked like a bill of some sort.
Seated on the couch with the light streaming in from the window, Willow opened the letter from David and Carol Finley.
Dear Willow,
As Thanksgiving nears, I find myself thinking of you all alone in that large house and wondering how you are doing. Do you have Thanksgiving traditions or plans? How did Kari celebrate holidays with you and now that she isn’t with you, what will you do?
These are thoughts that fill my mind as I make shopping lists. I smiled when I wrote down marshmallow crème. Oh how your mother hated sweet potato casserole. I’ll buy a yam and bake it for her as I always do. I’ve done that for twenty-four Thanksgivings now. No one eats it; they don’t like it. I just can’t bring myself not to bake it for her and this year, I guess I’ll bake it for you because now there’s no hope that she’ll ever walk through that door and tell us the nightmare is over.
How I want to invite you to spend a few days with us and yet your grandfather and I aren’t ready for it. I hope you can understand that. We steeled our hearts to the pain of losing Kari and some of that steel bars us from you but we want to unlock those doors. We just don’t know how yet.
We saw your interview in the newspaper. I was surprised at how freely you discussed the circumstances of your birth and Kari’s disappearance. It has opened a floodgate of questions for us that we weren’t prepared to handle. I don’t say this as a means of reproach but as a request. Please leave us out of anything like that in the future. We don’t care to relive those times but our media gossip driven culture doesn’t respect that.
Do you ever come into the city? Perhaps we could meet at one of those quiet little tea rooms and talk- neutral ground with no pressure. I would like that. I have a granddaughter that I don’t know and that grieves me.
You have cousins you know. Kyle has three children. Jonathan is just a year younger than you- twenty-three. Peter is nineteen, and Bethel Anne is fifteen. Your Uncle Kyle and Aunt Sheryl live in Hillsdale where Kyle is a loan manager for the bank. When Bethel Anne started middle school, Cheryl took a few refresher classes and went back to work at the hospital as an RN in the oncology department.
This letter is already longer than I intended. I find that when I start writing, I have a hard time stopping. Kari used to be that way. I have a shelf of journals and diaries from age six to age twenty and every letter she wrote home from camp. I can’t tell you how much those have comforted me over the years.
I pray for you Willow. I hope you know the Lord, and how precious you are to Him.
Grandma
Tears splashed on the letter before Willow realized she was crying. Again. How tired she was of her unpredictable emotional state! It was a good letter. Honest. It didn’t offer or expect more of her than was reasonable. After a second reading, she laid it aside. Chad would like to see it.
The bill she expected to be for her leg. Now and then, a bill for some medical personnel that she couldn’t remember and didn’t care about would arrive and she forwarded them all to Bill happily. However, this time, it wasn’t a bill. A check fell from the folds of a letter as she opened it. Made out in her name in the amount of two hundred fifty thousand dollars, the cashier’s check was signed by Steven J. Solari. She read the letter suspiciously.
Willow Anne Finley,
An interesting article came across my desk recently. Upon verification of a few simple facts, I have proven to my satisfaction that you are my granddaughter.
Had I any idea of your existence all of these years, I would have, of course, contributed financially and supportively to your upbringing. While I cannot undo the past, I can try to make up for it by aiding your future. You will find a check enclosed. They claim it costs 150,000-200,000 to raise a child from birth to eighteen but college adds a significant amount to that and I have allowed for that as well.
I know what you must think of my son. You can’t possibly think anything that I already haven’t. He was a severe disappointment to both his mother and I. Now that he is gone, we are alone, growing older every year, and finding it lonely without our son or the children he could have had.
I know I should not hope that you’d consider meeting with us at some point but I do. My numbers are on the card I’ve enclosed. Please call any time. I haven’t told my wife about you. She’d be crushed if she knew she had a grandchild and then you chose not to let her be a part of your life. I cannot do that to her. Whatever you may think of us, I am not my son, and my wife is a kind gentle woman.
Sincerely,
Steve Solari
Willow’s first inclination was to throw check and letter into the fire. Her hands felt soiled having touched them. A cold sweat sent shivers down her spine but Willow refused to allow herself to be controlled by her emotions. She carefully folded both letters and returned them to their envelopes. In the kitchen, she slipped them between the salt and peppershakers and grabbed the strainer, stockpot, and carried the Dutch oven to the sink. Time to make soup and eat lunch. She’d handle emotions later.
***
Chad found her sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by a fabric catalog, paper, pen, and a couple of letters- in shock. “Willow?”
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it!”
“What!”
With a dejected gesture, she waved her hand at the mess on the table and dropped her head on her arms. Chad picked up the letters and read them. The letter from the Finleys while lacking in the warmth and urging he hoped they’d show, encouraged him. Perhaps Willow was on her way to being a part of her family. However, at the sight of the check and the letter from Steven Solari, Chad’s blood pressure reached dangerous levels.
“What an absolutely inexcusable-”
“I know! How could I have done something so stupid!”
“Aww Willow, it’s not your fault. You didn’t tell that reporter anything-”
Her shocked face stopped him. “Reporter? What are you talking about?”
“Solari’s letter. His contacting you is unconscionable.”
“Oh that,” she dismissed. “I’m still processing those.”
“Well,” Chad tried again, “If that’s not the problem, what is?”
“I was so upset about it all that I went through my fabric catalog, wrote down every piece of fabric I liked and bought them all!”
“This is bad why?”
Willow’s shocked face searched his for signs of intelligent life behind Chad’s eyes. “Let me rephrase then. I just spent over three hundred dollars on fabric that I don’t need just because I didn’t want to think about the implications of those letters.” As he opened his mouth to reply, she added quickly, “And I called to place my order! We don’t do that!”
Despite a heroic attempt to suppress them, chuckles followed her horrified ejaculation. “So she is a normal woman after all!”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s common knowledge, Willow, that a significant portion of American women deal with stress by their favorite sport- shopping.”
Her amazement was evident. “What am I going to do with three hundred dollars worth of fabric? I don’t need any clothes for ages yet!”
“Make them for someone else. Make clothes for Aggie’s children or for Christmas presents, or make quilts or whatever else you can do that you do but you never let yourself do that you wanna do…”
“But three hundred-”
Chad picked up the Solari’s check. “Well, you could always cash this…”
“That is just- it’s just- just not funny.”
Changing the subject, Chad made a show of sniffing the air. “Do I smell chicken soup?”
“Yeah. I almost forgot to add the vegetables.”
“Is that bread?”
She tossed him the potholders. “Here. It’s probably done.”
He’d underestimated the effect her mini shopping spree had on her Silently he pulled the bread from the oven, ladled soup from the Dutch oven, sliced and buttered the bread, and cleared the table for dinner. As he worked, he saw some of what his father had warned him. His natural inclination was to wrap an arm around her shoulders and reassure her but now-
Impatiently he brushed aside his new misgivings. He’d take it to the Lord later but right now, she needed a bit of strength that she couldn’t manufacture for herself and subconsciously, she was probably expecting it. As he placed her bowl in front of her, he sat on his heels at her side and draped an arm around her shoulders. He waited for her to meet his gaze and then smiled into her eyes.
“It’s ok Willow. You can afford an occasional extravagance. Be thankful that it won’t mean not eating for a month and let it go. Now you know you’re just as vulnerable as the next person and you’ll be prepared.”
As she took a bite of her soup, she grinned back at him. “Maybe I should be stupid more often. This is nice. I wasted my day moping about those letters. My snow day was a bust.”
“It’ll snow again.”
“But it won’t be the first snow.”
Chad remembered an entry from Kari’s journals about snow days. “Oh, I think you can just pretend like this one didn’t happen. You weren’t even home when it started snowing so you really should wait for one where it’s actually snowing.”
“That’s cheating!”
“Not,” he hedged, “When you make the rules.”
***
That night, in his apartment, Chad prayed. For what seemed like hours, he poured out his heart to the Lord regarding his own life, Willow’s life, and whatever their relationship was. His father was right. He saw her as another little sister to pester, protect, and occasionally pamper. He treated her much as he had Cheri when she’d returned from what he called, ‘the pit.’
Something, however, wasn’t right in his spirit. He knew his father’s cautions had unsettled him on another level. He bared his soul to the Lord and took a peek at himself wondering why the idea of Willow marrying was so distasteful to him but found no answers. He didn’t love her. Well, not as he saw his father loved his mother. So many confusing thoughts whirled through his mind but always returned to the same question. What would happen if Willow did marry? The idea that once would have sent him clicking his heels for joy as he escaped the confines of a friendship he hadn’t sought, now filled him with dread that life could change so drastically.
He flipped open his phone. As he waited for Luke to answer, Chad grabbed the last Coke from his fridge and settled into the corner of his couch with his free hand massaging his temples. “Hey Luke. Got a few?”
“Couch is open. Will this be cash or credit?”
“How’s my tab?”
“Staggering but I’ll let it slide,” Luke agreed with mock reluctance.”
“You have the gift of giving.”
“But not the gift of gab so why don’t you do the talking?”
Luke had a fairly good idea what Chad’s problem was. He’d watched the interchange between Chad and Willow and the reaction of his aunt and uncle. Things were getting interesting at the very least.
“Of course, it’s Willow again. You were right to send me back here and I thank you.” Chad waited for Luke’s response but then smiled as he realized if he waited, his minutes would be flying off his phone. “Dad thinks I need to be there for her as well but-” He sighed. This seemed so logical when he was thinking to himself but aloud it sounded strange.
For ten minutes, Chad shared the conversation he’d had with his father and then with the Lord. He told Luke about his misgivings at the idea of Willow marrying and that the longer time went on, the more convinced he was that perhaps he shouldn’t marry. “That’d take care of one of us anyway. Maybe if I was just upfront with her. Would it sound weird to tell her, ‘Look, you’re like my other little sister and I want to keep treating you like that but if you ever get married, I’m probably going to have to change how I show it’?”
Again, silence reigned. Each minute that passed sounded like a cash register’s ‘cha-ching’ in his ear. Finally, Luke answered. “I understand Uncle Christopher’s concerns and I think they are valid. I also see your point and yes, that’d probably work but before you say anything or change anything in your relationship…”
Chad waited again. He waited. And waited. “Yes?”
“I think there is something else you could consider. It’d solve both the problem of how you respond to Willow when she marries and how you respond to the fact of her marriage.”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”
“Well actually-”
“Now, now, don’t get all wrapped up in the details, just give me your solution oh wise Swami of mine,” Chad teased as he relaxed sinking into the couch again and feeling like life was all right again. As a child, he’d always felt that if mom or dad couldn’t solve a problem it was ok. That’s what God made Luke for- his own personal problem solver.
“Marry her yourself Chad.”
“Oh not you too!”
A pregnant pause passed before Luke continued. “I’m not talking about heart throbs and romance although I recommend them highly…” Luke cleared his throat. “I just think that a good friendship like yours is a good enough reason to marry.”
“Marry so that no one else can. Somehow that doesn’t sound very ‘giving myself up for my wife’ kind of thing.”
Luke tried again, pausing often to reconsider his words and choose them carefully for best impact. “Chad, you love Willow. You love her in the most important way for a husband to love his wife. You serve her. You ‘agapae’ her. This is exactly what she needs. That is giving yourself up for her and you do it daily. You’ve done it since the first day you drove away from her farm, to Ferndale, and bought that cell phone so she wasn’t alone and unable to get help if she needed it. You didn’t want to go but you did.”
He took a deep breath. This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear and Chad wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anymore. “And ten years down the road when she meets the man she should have married- the man who can love her both as a servant husband and as Solomon, she’ll resent me for removing the chance for her to have the kind of marriage she should have dreamed about her whole life.”
Luke’s quiet calm voice came across the line and touched Chad’s heart in a way it had never before been affected. “Chad, once she marries you- or anyone else for that matter- there is no ‘man she should have married’ down the road. And, perhaps the reason she hasn’t dreamed of the perfect romantic ‘happily ever after’ fairytale is because the Lord was preparing her for a life with a stodgy old guy named Chad.” He paused. “I’ll send a bill next week. Night-”
“Wait, there’s something else.”
“Now what?”
Knowing he was setting himself up for major teasing, Chad forged onward bravely. “I got Willow’s Christmas present in the mail today and there’s a problem.”
“What is that?”
“It’s not assembled.”
Laughter rang out across the airwaves and taunted Chad as Luke retorted, “Then assemble it man.”
“It’s wood.”
“That was low. Wood as in raw wood, wood as in screw together wood, or wood as in, stain it and go?”
Chad grinned. He had Luke interested. He needed that advantage before he confessed his goof. “Well, kind of all three minus the screws but add the glue.”
“What is it?”
“A dulcimer kit?”
Sighing, Luke replied sarcastically. “Why do you sound like that’s a question and you don’t know.”
“Because I’m waiting to be bashed over the head with it.”
“Why did you buy a kit? You always hated models.”
“I didn’t know I did. I went back to the website after I bought it and in tiny print it says, ‘not assembled.’ Apparently that means it’s a kit rather than you need to string it and pop the pegs in and you’re ready to go.”
Luke’s response was disheartening. “You’d better get to work. It’s just barely a month away-”
“Will you help me?”
“Will you take Leith home while Aggie and I are off wherever we end up going after the wedding?”
Chad grinned. A week with a teenaged boy and no women to complain about what they ate. This would be fun. “Of course! That’ll be great. What are you doing with the other kids?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m trying to find a way to send a few here and there so that it’s not too much work for any one person. Mom’ll keep whoever is left but I don’t want to over work her and I want to be gone for a couple of weeks so-”
“What about Willow? Think Aggie would let them go to Willow’s farm? I think they’d have fun.”
“I’ll get back to you on that. On a scale of one to ten, what do you think she’d say to a request like that?” Luke held his breath expectantly.
“Nine point five at the lowest.”
“I’ll stop by sometime this week and look at your mess- er gift.”
“Will I ever be out of debt Luke?”
“Start praying. If Aggie says yes and Willow agrees, we’ll call you paid in full.”
“Yes!”
***
Chad found her sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by a fabric catalog, paper, pen, and a couple of letters- in shock. “Willow?”
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it!”
“What!”
With a dejected gesture, she waved her hand at the mess on the table and dropped her head on her arms. Chad picked up the letters and read them. The letter from the Finleys while lacking in the warmth and urging he hoped they’d show, encouraged him. Perhaps Willow was on her way to being a part of her family. However, at the sight of the check and the letter from Steven Solari, Chad’s blood pressure reached dangerous levels.
“What an absolutely inexcusable-”
“I know! How could I have done something so stupid!”
“Aww Willow, it’s not your fault. You didn’t tell that reporter anything-”
Her shocked face stopped him. “Reporter? What are you talking about?”
“Solari’s letter. His contacting you is unconscionable.”
“Oh that,” she dismissed. “I’m still processing those.”
“Well,” Chad tried again, “If that’s not the problem, what is?”
“I was so upset about it all that I went through my fabric catalog, wrote down every piece of fabric I liked and bought them all!”
“This is bad why?”
Willow’s shocked face searched his for signs of intelligent life behind Chad’s eyes. “Let me rephrase then. I just spent over three hundred dollars on fabric that I don’t need just because I didn’t want to think about the implications of those letters.” As he opened his mouth to reply, she added quickly, “And I called to place my order! We don’t do that!”
Despite a heroic attempt to suppress them, chuckles followed her horrified ejaculation. “So she is a normal woman after all!”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s common knowledge, Willow, that a significant portion of American women deal with stress by their favorite sport- shopping.”
Her amazement was evident. “What am I going to do with three hundred dollars worth of fabric? I don’t need any clothes for ages yet!”
“Make them for someone else. Make clothes for Aggie’s children or for Christmas presents, or make quilts or whatever else you can do that you do but you never let yourself do that you wanna do…”
“But three hundred-”
Chad picked up the Solari’s check. “Well, you could always cash this…”
“That is just- it’s just- just not funny.”
Changing the subject, Chad made a show of sniffing the air. “Do I smell chicken soup?”
“Yeah. I almost forgot to add the vegetables.”
“Is that bread?”
She tossed him the potholders. “Here. It’s probably done.”
He’d underestimated the effect her mini shopping spree had on her Silently he pulled the bread from the oven, ladled soup from the Dutch oven, sliced and buttered the bread, and cleared the table for dinner. As he worked, he saw some of what his father had warned him. His natural inclination was to wrap an arm around her shoulders and reassure her but now-
Impatiently he brushed aside his new misgivings. He’d take it to the Lord later but right now, she needed a bit of strength that she couldn’t manufacture for herself and subconsciously, she was probably expecting it. As he placed her bowl in front of her, he sat on his heels at her side and draped an arm around her shoulders. He waited for her to meet his gaze and then smiled into her eyes.
“It’s ok Willow. You can afford an occasional extravagance. Be thankful that it won’t mean not eating for a month and let it go. Now you know you’re just as vulnerable as the next person and you’ll be prepared.”
As she took a bite of her soup, she grinned back at him. “Maybe I should be stupid more often. This is nice. I wasted my day moping about those letters. My snow day was a bust.”
“It’ll snow again.”
“But it won’t be the first snow.”
Chad remembered an entry from Kari’s journals about snow days. “Oh, I think you can just pretend like this one didn’t happen. You weren’t even home when it started snowing so you really should wait for one where it’s actually snowing.”
“That’s cheating!”
“Not,” he hedged, “If you make the rules.”
***
That night, in his apartment, Chad prayed. For what seemed like hours, he poured out his heart to the Lord regarding his own life, Willow’s life, and whatever their relationship was. His father was right. He saw her as another little sister to pester, protect, and occasionally pamper. He treated her much as he had Cheri when she’d returned from what he called, ‘the pit.’
Something, however, wasn’t right in his spirit. He knew his father’s cautions had unsettled him on another level. He bared his soul to the Lord and took a peek at himself wondering why the idea of Willow marrying was so distasteful to him but found no answers. He didn’t love her. Well, not as he saw his father loved his mother. So many confusing thoughts whirled through his mind but always returned to the same question. What would happen if Willow did marry? The idea that once would have sent him clicking his heels for joy as he escaped the confines of a friendship he hadn’t sought, now filled him with dread that life could change so drastically.
He flipped open his phone. As he waited for Luke to answer, Chad grabbed the last Coke from his fridge and settled into the corner of his couch with his free hand massaging his temples. “Hey Luke. Got a few?”
“Couch is open. Will this be cash or credit?”
“How’s my tab?”
“Staggering but I’ll let it slide,” Luke agreed with mock reluctance.”
“You have the gift of giving.”
“But not the gift of gab so why don’t you do the talking?”
Luke had a fairly good idea what Chad’s problem was. He’d watched the interchange between Chad and Willow and the reaction of his aunt and uncle. Things were getting interesting at the very least.
“Of course, it’s Willow again. You were right to send me back here and I thank you.” Chad waited for Luke’s response but then smiled as he realized if he waited, his minutes would be flying off his phone. “Dad thinks I need to be there for her as well but-” He sighed. This seemed so logical when he was thinking to himself but aloud it sounded strange.
For ten minutes, Chad shared the conversation he’d had with his father and then with the Lord. He told Luke about his misgivings at the idea of Willow marrying and that the longer time went on, the more convinced he was that perhaps he shouldn’t marry. “That’d take care of one of us anyway. Maybe if I was just upfront with her. Would it sound weird to tell her, ‘Look, you’re like my other little sister and I want to keep treating you like that but if you ever get married, I’m probably going to have to change how I show it’?”
Again, silence reigned. Each minute that passed sounded like a cash register’s ‘cha-ching’ in his ear. Finally, Luke answered. “I understand Uncle Christopher’s concerns and I think they are valid. I also see your point and yes, that’d probably work but before you say anything or change anything in your relationship…”
Chad waited again. He waited. And waited. “Yes?”
“I think there is something else you could consider. It’d solve both the problem of how you respond to Willow when she marries and how you respond to the fact of her marriage.”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”
“Well actually-”
“Now, now, don’t get all wrapped up in the details, just give me your solution oh wise Swami of mine,” Chad teased as he relaxed sinking into the couch again and feeling like life was all right again. As a child, he’d always felt that if mom or dad couldn’t solve a problem it was ok. That’s what God made Luke for- his own personal problem solver.
“Marry her yourself Chad.”
“Oh not you too!”
A pregnant pause passed before Luke continued. “I’m not talking about heart throbs and romance although I recommend them highly…” Luke cleared his throat. “I just think that a good friendship like yours is a good enough reason to marry.”
“Marry so that no one else can. Somehow that doesn’t sound very ‘giving myself up for my wife’ kind of thing.”
Luke tried again, pausing often to reconsider his words and choose them carefully for best impact. “Chad, you love Willow. You love her in the most important way for a husband to love his wife. You serve her. You ‘agapae’ her. This is exactly what she needs. That is giving yourself up for her and you do it daily. You’ve done it since the first day you drove away from her farm, to Ferndale, and bought that cell phone so she wasn’t alone and unable to get help if she needed it. You didn’t want to go but you did.”
He took a deep breath. This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear and Chad wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anymore. “And ten years down the road when she meets the man she should have married- the man who can love her both as a servant husband and as Solomon, she’ll resent me for removing the chance for her to have the kind of marriage she should have dreamed about her whole life.”
Luke’s quiet calm voice came across the line and touched Chad’s heart in a way it had never before been affected. “Chad, once she marries you- or anyone else for that matter- there is no ‘man she should have married’ down the road. And, perhaps the reason she hasn’t dreamed of the perfect romantic ‘happily ever after’ fairytale is because the Lord was preparing her for a life with a stodgy old guy named Chad.” He paused. “I’ll send a bill next week. Night-”
“Wait, there’s something else.”
“Now what?”
Knowing he was setting himself up for major teasing, Chad forged onward bravely. “I got Willow’s Christmas present in the mail today and there’s a problem.”
“What is that?”
“It’s not assembled.”
Laughter rang out across the airwaves and taunted Chad as Luke retorted, “Then assemble it man.”
“It’s wood.”
“That was low. Wood as in raw wood, wood as in screw together wood, or wood as in, stain it and go?”
Chad grinned. He had Luke interested. He needed that advantage before he confessed his goof. “Well, kind of all three minus the screws but add the glue.”
“What is it?”
“A dulcimer kit?”
Sighing, Luke replied sarcastically. “Why do you sound like that’s a question and you don’t know.”
“Because I’m waiting to be bashed over the head with it.”
“Why did you buy a kit? You always hated models.”
“I didn’t know I did. I went back to the website after I bought it and in tiny print it says, ‘not assembled.’ Apparently that means it’s a kit rather than you need to string it and pop the pegs in and you’re ready to go.”
Luke’s response was disheartening. “You’d better get to work. It’s just barely a month away-”
“Will you help me?”
“Will you take Leith home while Aggie and I are off wherever we end up going after the wedding?”
Chad grinned. A week with a teenaged boy and no women to complain about what they ate. This would be fun. “Of course! That’ll be great. What are you doing with the other kids?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m trying to find a way to send a few here and there so that it’s not too much work for any one person. Mom’ll keep whoever is left but I don’t want to over work her and I want to be gone for a couple of weeks so-”
“What about Willow? Think Aggie would let them go to Willow’s farm? I think they’d have fun.”
“I’ll get back to you on that. On a scale of one to ten, what do you think she’d say to a request like that?” Luke held his breath expectantly.
“Nine point five at the lowest.”
“I’ll stop by sometime this week and look at your mess- er gift.”
“Will I ever be out of debt Luke?”
“Start praying. If Aggie says yes and Willow agrees, we’ll call you paid in full.”
“Yes!”
Saturday morning Willow awoke to sun streaming through her windows and a few inches of snow on the ground. Wrapped in her favorite robe and feet swaddled in wooly warmness, she stood at the window and enjoyed the beauty of fields of snow. The dusting over the tree branches gave the farm the feel of fairyland and she sighed contentedly at the sight.
Willow loved snow in the fields and hated it in the yard. What looked like a white blanked of cotton over fields looked like a slushy mess after a few tramps to the barn, chickens, and back. The first day of snow was always a treat in the Finley home. On that day they ignored the extra work, extra mess, and concentrated on the beauty because the rest of winter would demand they pay attention to it. They made snow ice cream, drank hot chocolate, ate chicken soup, and huddled next to the stove reading, knitting, or daydreaming.
The clock struck seven. If she didn’t get a move-on, the day would be gone before she could relax and enjoy it! Willow pulled on her favorite jeans, t-shirt, and chamois flannel blouse. As she hurried downstairs, her fingers expertly braided her hair into a long French braid. By the backdoor, her boots and over boots sat ready for wear.
By the time she left the kitchen, the stove was crackling, the tea kettle warming, a bowl of dry oats waited for the kettle and a Dutch oven of water sat waiting for heat to do its job. Outside, Saige barked her welcome and rolled playfully in the snow. Ice containers waited for a trip downstairs to the ice cellar. She shivered in the brisk air but knew that with a few minutes work, she’d warm up enough to shed a coat if she wore one.
Grabbing the snow shovel from the barn wall, Willow cleared a strip from the chicken yard and threw open the door. The huge thermometer on the side of the coop read twenty-six degrees. “Kind of cold ladies but there’s some bare dirt out there if you want to run around-” The birds were out of their coop before she could say cold. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you-”
In the barn, she spread a fresh layer of straw in the stalls opposite the inhabited ones and moved the animals across the aisle. Water, hay, a little grain for the cow and the barn animals were all set.
Willow grabbed a chicken, container of soup, and packet of dog meat from the freezer, poured some milk in the cat pans and glanced around the barn with one final look. She hadn’t seen the barn cats for a week or two but they’d be waiting for milk again now that it was cooler. A mouse scurried from one hay bale to the next. “They’d better catch that thing or I’m cutting off their room and board,” she muttered as she slid the upper barn window open and then shut the door.
In the house, she poured water from the tea kettle into her cup and added her tea ball. Barely covering the oats with boiling water, she set a plate on top and retrieved a jar of peaches from the pantry. Willow scooped several sliced of peaches onto the plate, replaced the jar lid, and stowed the jar in the icebox. It needed more ice.
Her chicken in the pot, oats down the hatch, and kitchen cleaned up and looking spiffy, Willow shrugged off her flannel shirt and boots, slipped back on her slippers, and sighed. It was a beautiful day. By nine o’clock, she was curled on the chaise reading Alexa Hartfield’s book and sipping tea.
Her eyes closed and she listened to the sounds of her house. The fire crackled in the stove, Saige barked outside and as she opened her eyes to read once more, she heard the gentle shushing of the page as she turned it. There was no laughter, no thumping up and down the stairs, no one calling for mom to help with this or that, or good-natured protests of unfair treatment. There was no furnace to make a strange clicking noise just before the whoosh of warm air shot through the vents. No sirens wailed; no car doors thumped; all was quiet in her world.
Just after noon, she stretched as she stood to heat her stew and noticed the mail truck at the end of the lane. Grabbing her keys, her flannel shirt, and a thick sweater, Willow pulled on her boots and stepped outside. “Want to grab the mail with me Saige?”
Willow rarely got the mail. Sometimes weeks went by without a single letter or catalog but if they saw the truck stop, the Finley women would take a break in their day and walk o the mailbox to see what might be in it. Down the lane she walked, Saige dashing in circles, racing ahead of her and then zipping back to urge her onward. She pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked the box. She remembered the day her mother returned from the mailbox with Coke drenched, ant covered mail. She’d spent the next three days building the concrete enshrouded mailbox. Designed with a cut away bottom, mail dropped from the ‘door’ into the concrete tomb below. The mailman had a key to the flap door and the Finley women had a separate key to the locked door on the back of the mail monstrosity. But it worked, and it was normal to Willow now.
Two letters and a new catalog from Hancock’s of Paducah- it was a good day. The name on the return address of one of the letters made her heart race and she hurried home to read it. The other letter looked like a bill of some sort.
Seated on the couch with the light streaming in from the window, Willow opened the letter from David and Carol Finley.
Dear Willow,
As Thanksgiving nears, I find myself thinking of you all alone in that large house and wondering how you are doing. Do you have Thanksgiving traditions or plans? How did Kari celebrate holidays with you, and now that she isn’t with you, what will you do?
These are thoughts that fill my mind as I make shopping lists. I smiled when I wrote down marshmallow crème. Oh how your mother hated sweet potato casserole. I bought a yam for her and baked it as I always did. I’ve done that for twenty-four Thanksgivings now. No one eats it; they don’t like it. I just can’t bring myself not to bake it for her and this year, I guess I baked it for you because now there’s no hope that she’ll ever walk through that door and tell us the nightmare is over.
How I want to invite you to spend a few days with us and yet your grandfather and I aren’t ready for it. I hope you can understand that. We steeled our hearts to the pain of losing Kari and some of that steel bars us from you but we want to unlock those doors. We just don’t know how yet.
We saw your interview in the newspaper. I was surprised at how freely you discussed the circumstances of your birth and Kari’s disappearance. It has opened a floodgate of questions for us that we weren’t prepared to handle. I don’t say this as a means of reproach but as a request. Please leave us out of anything like that in the future. We don’t care to relive those times but our media gossip driven culture doesn’t respect that.
Do you ever come into the city? Perhaps we could meet at one of those quiet little tea rooms and talk- neutral ground with no pressure. I would like that. I have a granddaughter that I don’t know and that grieves me.
You have cousins you know. Kyle has three children. Jonathan is just a year younger than you- twenty-three. Peter is nineteen, and Bethel Anne is fifteen. Your Uncle Kyle and Aunt Sheryl live in Hillsdale where Kyle is a loan manager for the bank. When Bethel Anne started middle school, Cheryl took a few refresher classes and went back to work at the hospital as an RN in the oncology department.
This letter is already longer than I intended. I find that when I start writing, I have a hard time stopping. Kari used to be that way. I have a shelf of journals and diaries from age six to age twenty and every letter she wrote home from camp. I can’t tell you how much those have comforted me over the years.
I pray for you Willow. I hope you know the Lord, and how precious you are to Him.
Grandma
Tears splashed on the letter before Willow realized she was crying. Again. How tired she was of her unpredictable emotional state! It was a good letter. Honest. It didn’t offer or expect more of her than was reasonable. After a second reading, she laid it aside. Chad would like to see it.
The bill she expected to be for her leg. Now and then a bill for some medical personnel that she couldn’t remember and didn’t care about would arrive and she forwarded them all to Bill happily. However, this time, it wasn’t a bill. A check fell from the folds of a letter as she opened it. Made out in her name in the amount of two hundred fifty thousand dollars, the cashier’s check was signed by Steven J. Solari. She read the letter suspiciously.
Willow Anne Finley,
An interesting article came across my desk recently. Upon verification of a few simple facts, I have proven to my satisfaction that you are my granddaughter.
Had I any idea of your existence all of these years, I would have, of course, contributed financially and supportively to your upbringing. While I cannot undo the past, I can try to make up for it by aiding your future. You will find a check enclosed. They claim it costs 150,000-200,000 to raise a child from birth to eighteen but college adds a significant amount to that and I have allowed for that as well.
I know what you must think of my son. You can’t possibly think anything that I already haven’t. He was a severe disappointment to both his mother and I. Now that he is gone, we are alone, growing older every year, and finding it lonely without our son or the children he could have had.
I know I should not hope that you’d consider meeting with us at some point but I do. My numbers are on the card I’ve enclosed. Please call any time. I haven’t told my wife about you. She’d be crushed if she knew she had a grandchild and then you chose not to let her be a part of your life. I cannot do that to her. Whatever you may think of us, I am not my son and my wife is a kind gentle woman.
Sincerely,
Steve Solari
Willow’s first inclination was to throw check and letter into the fire. Her hands felt soiled having touched them. A cold sweat sent shivers down her spine but Willow refused to allow herself to be controlled by her emotions. She carefully folded both letters and returned them to their envelopes. In the kitchen, she slipped them between the salt and peppershakers and grabbed the strainer, stockpot, and carried the Dutch oven to the sink. Time to make soup and eat lunch. She’d handle emotions later.
***
***
“Oh Luke, I’m glad you got that on tape. Your double single knee proposal is unique, I’ll give you that. Of course, I’d give anything to be able to hear you but the comments of the children and the aunts was priceless.”
“I laughed so hard watching that. When Tavish said to get the smelling salts…” Luke mused thoughtfully.
Cheri’s romance radar was in high gear. “So did you choose a date? Do you know where-”
“Can you give him twenty-four hours before you plan his life, Cheri?” Chris’ nudge was anything but gentle.
The room erupted in laughter at Luke’s discouraged, “Well, I doubt I can get her to find time before Christmas but-”
Willow’s voice, though quiet, cut through the pandemonium. “I wish you well, Luke. I’ll be praying for you and for Aggie.”
Chad and Luke exchanged understanding glances. As defensive as she’d been about Luke’s worth as a man, marriage wasn’t an easy thing for her to swallow. After twenty-three years, she was just beginning to see what marriage truly was. “Thank you Willow.”
A sidelong glance at the Tesdalls made Willow’s stomach flop in that horribly uncomfortable manner it had adopted that morning. Marianne stood leaning her back into her husband’s chest, Christopher’s arms around her waist, and sharing some kind of private joke between them. They reminded her of the married couples she’d read about in books. There was something special- different about their relationship that both intrigued her and frightened her simultaneously.
Until she’d been bombarded with hints about her presumed budding romance with Chad, the idea of romance hadn’t bothered her much. Bill made illusions to it and she found the attention pleasant but now, in this environment where deeper relationships were both casual and serious, suddenly she shied away from them.
“Willow, I’ve got to be at work by six and I didn’t pick up my uniforms- I think we should go soon. With the snow, the roads-”
“Ready whenever you are.” She turned immediately to find her tote bag but Christopher’s voice stopped her.
“Chad, can I see you in the den before you go?”
She watched nervously as the two men disappeared into the room and a pocket door slid shut behind them. Willow had no doubt that the Tesdall family liked her. Their warm welcome was genuine; she was confident on that score. However, something in Christopher’s manner told her that he was concerned for Chad and assumed it had something to do with the infamous ‘Linnea.’
Unaware that Willow even noticed the exchange, Christopher sat his son down for a conversation he’d rather not have. “Chad, I’d give anything to avoid this-”
Anticipating his father’s words, Chad’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry dad. I know I’ve been a disappointment to you in so many ways but-”
“Don’t assume you know what I’m going to say. I’m pretty sure you don’t.
“You know, I’ve been praying about you and Willow since the day you came to the store. I’ve struggled about it because I have no doubt that the Lord brought you into Willow’s life for a reason and not just to help her. She’s been good for you too son.”
Chad listened, willing himself not to respond defensively. This had been the best visit with his parents since he’d left for college. The old wounds were stitched and healing, he didn’t want to rip them open again. As his father talked, he prayed- hardly hearing what his father had to say.
“… I’m not concerned about where things are now. I know you think I’m going to condemn you for your choices concerning her but I’m not. I see why you’ve done what you’ve done and I’m proud of you for it.”
Swallowing hard, Chad raised his eyes to meet his father’s. “I cannot tell you how much that means to me.”
“Which,” Christopher continued, “is why I’m going to say something you probably don’t want to hear but I want you to listen close to what I am saying and not add in what I’m not.”
Chad nodded. It was true, he tended to assume what people meant by what they said rather than taking their word at face value. The fact that he was usually right did little to help break him of the habit, but when he was wrong, he always made promises to himself that he’d learn not to be so presumptive.
“Your relationship with Willow is a lot like yours with Cheri. I don’t see the level of teasing and banter but I suspect that part of that is that she’s not comfortable here and I know she’s still a little fragile. You see her as a sister; you treat her as a best friend. This is good.”
“But-” He knew a ‘but’ had to be forthcoming and just wanted the ordeal over.
“But she isn’t your sister. She’s a sister in Christ, I grant you but she is not your sister. The day will come, probably sooner than either of you are prepared to think about, when one or both of you will marry.”
“Pop, please-”
“Listen to me son. If you keep things how they are, I don’t foresee any real problems. However, if you continue to treat her like Cheri, the time will come when you’re watching movies with your arm draped around her shoulder or she’ll fall asleep half curled against your chest or your lap just like Cheri does. That may be innocent and I trust you to search your heart about those things and to listen to the Holy Spirit’s promptings but son her husband isn’t going to want to come home and find you casually affectionate with his wife.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem dad. I can’t see her marrying but if she did, I’d never-”
“Your wife wouldn’t necessarily like it either.”
Chad’s head whipped up sharply. “How can you think I’d ever-”
“Son, you wouldn’t. That’s not the problem. I am trying to set up a picture in your mind here. If you are not careful to keep your shows of affection- and I know you. You’re going to keep her feeling secure by any means you know. It’s who you are and who you’ve always been. I wouldn’t want you to change it. But if you keep seeing her as another sister instead of a single woman, then the day one of you marries, she loses another important relationship.”
“Well I wouldn’t just abandon her Pop!”
“No, but you’d pull away. It’s a natural response and a right one. But it’d mean another loss in a young woman who can’t afford any more losses.”
Taking a deep breath, Chad decided to cut to the chase. “Ok, can you tell me in as few and as simple words as possible, what you’re suggesting?”
“Be her friend Chad. Be there for her. But keep your relationship to something that can continue, just as it is or awfully close to it, in case one of you marries.”
Glad to have the burden of his heart off his chest and onto the table, Christopher stood. “Of course, you’d solve all of the problems if you simply married her yourself in the next decade or two.”
“Don’t count on it Dad. Don’t count on it.”
The men bustled into the house with their ‘kill’ and dusted off the first flakes of winter. As Chad shrugged out of his coat, the corners of his mouth tugged upwards slightly at the sight of Willow’s flower arrangement. He’d have to thank mom later.
“Hey Marianne? Guess what I found!”
“Shhh,” his mom fussed as she rushed from the kitchen looking extra chipper and festive.
“What?” Christopher’s stage whisper wasn’t much quieter than his yell.
“Willow’s still asleep. You guys be quiet or I’ll send you down to the basement.”
“What about breakfast? I’m starving!” Chris whined in his best mock toddler voice.
Ignoring her son, Marianne wrapped her arms around her nephew. “Congratulations Luke, I can’t wait to meet her. You need to bring everyone over some afternoon soon.”
“Aunt Mari, I’d rethink that invitation if I were you. We’re not a visit you know. We’re an invasion.”
“Good,” she quipped leading her favorite nephew to the kitchen. “Then we surrender. Occupy the territory Lucas!”
Pineapple chunks and cheese cubes sat on the counter as a pre-breakfast appetizer but after one pass by the four hungry men, all that they left were a few toothpicks and two dirty plates. “Mom, got any of your cinnamon rolls left?” Chad was hungry enough to wake Willow deliberately so they could eat.”
“No, and I’m not putting in the casserole until I hear some movement from upstairs.”
“Where’s Cheri?”
“She’s down in the basement digging out the tree. Why don’t you go help her Chris? Chad, you could get the ornaments…”
The guys disappeared from the kitchen and a knowing look passed between them. At the foot of the basement stairs, Chad paused. “You go down; I’ll be there in a minute. I just want to make sure she’s not up there wondering when we’re all going to wake up. I can just see her doing that.”
“Don’t let mom catch you!” Chris warned as he thundered don the stairs making enough noise to convince Marianne that her sons were twelve and fifteen again.
Chad peeked into Willow’s room and almost snorted aloud. No wonder Willow was sleeping so soundly. The blinds were down, the curtains drawn, and hardly a daring ray of sunlight managed to peek through any of the cracks. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her sleep wondering what about the picture bothered him. Finally, he realized. Most people assume a rested peaceful look in their sleep that you rarely see on their faces. Willow just looked like Willow with her eyes closed. The peace in her heart and the life she led, while hard and requiring much labor, was peace lived daily. He’d never noticed how clearly it showed in her face until he watched her sleep.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He looked down into his mother’s warning eyes and hugged her whispering as he did, “Look at her face mom. She looks just as gentle and peaceful awake as she does asleep.”
Marianne turned him from the door and pushed him towards he stairs with a mock scowl. “Get down there and help,” she hissed menacingly. “Or I’ll bring out the hidden albums. I think Willow would get a huge kick out of a certain little baby boy watering my roses in the buff.”
Chad was already half way down the stairs. His mother had claimed for years that she had certain pictures squirreled away for opportune blackmail times and though none of the Tesdall children had ever found them, they also weren’t willing to risk it. She peeked in at Willow and smiled as the young woman stretched, rolled over, and resumed her rhythmic breathing.
“Lord, I always thought it’d take something drastic to pull Chad out of his shell but I never realized it’d be a good drastic. With his job-” she sighed under her breath. “My faith was weak again. I’ve got that down to a science. Think we could work on some strengthening exercises now?”
***
Willow awoke. Again. Her head was growing fuzzy from lack of movement. She wanted fresh air and a walk. Maybe if she got dressed, she’d catch the men before they left. She hadn’t planned on going shopping but after waking several times and finding it still dark, she was ready to give up.
The house was silent as she wrapped Cheri’s spare robe around her. She’d have to slip into Cheri’s room and snatch her clothes. As she passed the top of the stairs, light shone from the first floor and oddly enough, it looked like it was coming from outside.
Quickly, she padded downstairs and glanced out the window that flanked the door. Light filtered into the room and snowflakes fell steadily on the lawn and shrubbery. She remembered a clock on the oven, so Willow hurried to see what time it really was but as she stepped in the kitchen, she stopped short.
“Oh excuse me,” she gasped blushing half frozen in amazement then turning to hurry away from the sight of Christopher and Marianne wrapped in each other’s arms as they kissed.
“Willow, did you need something?” Marianne asked without moving from her husband’s arms.
“Oh, no, I was just going to see what time it is. It was so dark in my room I thought it was night still.”
With each word, she backed from the room uncomfortably. Marianne smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I went in before I went to bed and closed it up so the light wouldn’t bother you. I’m putting a casserole in. Would you like to take a shower while it bakes?”
“Um-” Her eyes traveled uncomfortably to Christopher’s hands as they rubbed his wife’s arms absently.
Taking the casserole from the fridge, Marianne shoved it in the oven and punched the timer. “Come on. I’m sure Cheri has some sweats or something that’ll fit you.”
All the way up the stairs, Marianne’s mind whirled. Should she apologize for making Willow feel uncomfortable? As she chattered about Cheri’s wardrobe options, she tried to read Willow’s body language to determine how to respond. She wasn’t ashamed of the display of affection but neither did she care to make a guest uncomfortable.
“Oh look, Cheri bought these last year and never wore them. I’m not sure why…” Marianne prattled about the velour warm up suit and t-shirt as she found clothes, toothbrush, and towels and placed them in the bathroom.
As soon as Willow was settled, she hurried downstairs. The shouts of her sons and husband sent her back upstairs. “Well, you didn’t tell me you were wrapping yet! Chad, Christopher, I need you.”
Seated around the couch, Marianne explained the scenario with a hint of a blush on her cheeks. The Tesdalls weren’t prudes. They showed genuine affection, occasionally more passionate when privacy was probable, but they were always discreet and tasteful. Willow’s discomfort seemed more pronounced than when a niece, nephew, or even one of Cheri’s friends burst into the house.
As he listened to his mother explain the situation, Chad chuckled. “Care to share with us Chad?” his father asked, instinctively knowing it was going to be interesting.
“I just remember when she said after we saw the Princes Bride. There is that line about the five perfect kisses, and she said, ‘What’s so big about a kiss anyway? Two lips smashed against each other. Whoop-dee-doo.’ I told her she’d think differently some day.”
“Smashed lips!” Christopher laughter joined Marianne’s muffled titters. She tried to hush him but it didn’t work.
“Chad, what do you think? I started to apologize for making her uncomfortable but you’ve seen us, we’re not- well-”
“No I don’t think you have anything to apologize for. As much as Cheri, Chris, and I complain, we really do like knowing you’re still-.”
“You’re as bad as she is,” Chad’s father teased. “It’s called being in love. You should try it sometime.”
At the sight of her son’s embarrassment, Marianne stepped in and redirected the conversation. She’d watched the knowing looks between Chris and Cheri, heard the speculations of the family, and even Libby had mentioned that she hoped when enough time had passed and Willow was ready for the right man in her life, that it would be Chad. If he felt half the pressure that she did, Chad would run. They could thank Linnae for that.
“So, what do you think Chad? I’m not going to lie and I won’t apologize for showing proper affection for my husband but if I need to apologize for making her feel uncomfortable…”
He sat thoughtfully and then shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t mention it at all- in fact; I’d appreciate it if you’d be a little extra affectionate. Willow needs to see it. I’ll try not to gag.”
“What do you mean ‘Willow needs to see it’ son?”
“Just that she hasn’t. Can you imagine never having seen a husband and wife, any husband and wife, kiss? Can you imagine never hearing your father say, ‘I love you?’ Things that are so commonplace for us are earth shattering for her. I can’t even begin to describe our discussion of showing affection for men!”
This piqued Marianne’s interest. “Oh no, that’s something I want to hear. I’ve watched you with her Chad and the only reason I haven’t said anything is because I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
As he tried to explain, Chad stuffed his hands in his pockets leaning back into the chair. “It’s strange mom. Because of who she is, I can and must behave in ways I can’t possibly imagine. Mom, I slept over at her house- a few times when no one else was there! Granted most of those times were during the day because I worked night shift but still.”
“And why did you think that was a good idea Chad?”
His father’s voice cut him to the heart. He’d known that tone ever since he could remember. It meant disappointment. “Pop, she was injured. She has no one. I could milk the goats and was strong enough to help her up and down the stairs.” He sighed. They’d never understand. “I was who she trusted. I couldn’t not do it Pop.”
Christopher Tesdall fought the churning in his spirit. He had a strong tendency to put everything in a carefully packaged box. His wife had often told him as they reared their children, “You can’t decide how everything should go and then force it to go that way. Sometimes you have to use discernment instead of rules.” The rare times that she disagreed with him in decisions regarding their children, it had always come down to that one concept. “Just because the scenario doesn’t fit your idea of the perfect script, doesn’t mean it needs to be written out of the play.”
“You probably know best son and it’s never wrong to serve the body of Christ. How you do it- Well, still. I can’t-” He struggled. His son was opening himself up for more than the boy bargained for and yet somehow he couldn’t bring himself to open his mental lecture list and pull out the appropriate one for the occasion. “Anyway, tell us about the affection problem.”
Chad told about the conversation he’d had with Willow. His parents sat dumbstruck as he described her nonchalant attitude of holding the hands of three men in almost as many days without the slightest idea that it would mean anything more than friendly reassurance and appreciation. “You know how you always said you could tell when a girl’s father quit showing her affection around their teen years?”
Christopher nodded not liking where he thought Chad was going. “You don’t think-”
“Well, no. I don’t think Willow is in danger of trading her virtue for male attention but considering she’s never had any, I think she is both oblivious to it being any different than female affection as well as having a deep need for it. If she didn’t so thoroughly disassociate herself from any hint of romance, I couldn’t be the big brother slash friend that I am without having another Linnae on my hands.”
“Oh I’m sick of that girl’s name! I’m sick of her impact on our family! I’m sick that our son, my kind hearted handsome son, has run from every decent girl he’s ever met thanks to that-”
“Enough Marianne. Don’t let the bitterness back.”
Before anyone could speak, they heard the bathroom door squeak and Chad quickly murmured “Don’t walk around lip-locked, just be affectionate like you always are… just a bit more often!
“Morning Willow!”
Willow brought her towel downstairs brushing her hair as she came. “What should I do with the towel? The racks are full up there.”
Marianne jumped to grab it. “I’ll take it. Would you like some juice? I’d offer you fruit or cheese but the guys inhaled it when they got back.”
“Where is everyone?”
Chad smiled from his relaxed spot on the couch. “Downstairs. They’re wrapping gifts. I’m supposed to be down there but I had a few things to discuss with mom and dad so-”
“Well you go down and wrap Chad; I’ll get Willow to help me with breakfast.”
On cue, Christopher passed through the kitchen as Marianne checked the casserole and murmured something into his wife’s ear, kissed her cheek, and followed his son down the basement steps. Smiling to herself and half-forgetting her earlier concern, she winked at Willow. “What a man will do to get a meal.”
“So what I can I do?” Eagerly, Willow looked around the room for anything to focus on other than Marianne’s face.
“Is something wrong?” This wasn’t going to be as simple as Chad’s confidence had implied. “Can you reach in that cupboard- no the next one. Yes. Can you get me ummm six… seven of those plates?”
“Sure. I wonder where our extra plates are.”
“What did you say?”
As she handed Marianne the plates, Willow explained their limited dish situation. “I know we have replacements- anytime something broke there’d be a replacement in the cupboard the next meal. I never thought of it before but mom must have them somewhere. I wonder why she didn’t just keep them in the cupboard.”
In an unusual moment of insight, Marianne Tesdall saw Kari more accurately than most ever did. “I think your mother wanted a visual reminder that she only had enough emotional stamina for two people ‘at her table’ so to speak.”
Tears sprung to Willow’s eyes but rather than being overcome by them, she smiled. “Two people at her table. That’s perfect. Chad has almost become family- the brother Mother would never have had for me. I still have two people at my table most of the time. God is good.”
***
Christopher Tesdall called a final goodbye to Uncle Erwin as he drove away, and shut the door. “Well, another year, another Thanksgiving.”
“Luke just called, he’ll be over at four to pick up you guys,” Marianne called from the kitchen.
“It’s just sick.”
“What is,” Willow asked curiously.
“They’ll be out in the freezing cold for a few cheap deals.”
The blank expression on Willow’s face didn’t change. “Where are they going and why?”
Chad shoved a black Friday ad at her as he plopped on the carpet at Willow’s feet. “Day after Thanksgiving sales. Mom and Cheri hate ‘em. Doesn’t make sense but they do. Dad, Chris, and I love ‘em. All Christmas shopping done in one stop, at the best prices, and we make the retailers happy by giving them a great sales day. However, our shopping fiends don’t like it.”
“You like to shop but not tomorrow?”
Marianne’s impatience with her husband and sons was evident. “They don’t shop, they hunt. The store is the hunting grounds, the items are the game, and their speed is their weapon. They get in, go for the kill, and get out. No thought whatsoever in their purchase. Just grab, wrap, and bow.”
“Ooh good one mom!”
“So, are you a ‘drag it out as long as possible and spend twice as much time and money’ like the girls or do you have a little common sense like us,” Chris challenged.
“I don’t think I’m either. I think I’m more of a ‘make it up as I go’ kind of giver.”
“What does that mean?”
“Cheri, that means she’s a diplomat,” Christopher insisted. “Smart girl this one.”
“No, I just wouldn’t know where to look or what to buy. We made a lot of our gifts.”
Intrigued, Christopher leaned back in his recliner, on arm behind his head, and encouraged her to tell them more. “What did you get for Christmas last year?”
Smiling at the memory of her mother’s excitement, Willow said, “Fishing line.”
Plastered smiles and nods were their only response. Chad, realizing there must be more to it than just the line but not knowing what, said, “You have a look on your face that says it was one of your favorite presents ever, why?”
“Because it was her last one stupid,” Cheri muttered jabbing her brother in the ribs.
“No, because it was such a sacrifice for her.”
Marianne, Cheri, and Chris stared at one another in horror but Chad and Christopher knew her net worth and knew that it wasn’t how it sounded. “Why a sacrifice?” Chad’s probing surprised his mother and she felt a little mortified that her son was so rude.
“Well, because it’s not just about buying more fishing line. We probably had plenty. It’s about giving up some of her free time so I could spend the summer fishing. It was something to look forward to.” She turned to Chris, “What was your favorite Christmas present?”
“Charlie.”
“You loved that crazy robot!” Cheri remembered excitedly. “I woke up every morning for ages hearing, ‘Greetings, what shall we do today?’ in that awful digital monotone.”
Chris grinned at the memory. The robot still held a place of prominence on his living room shelf. Girlfriends who mocked his robot never returned to his house. Somehow, it had become a litmus test for the right woman. “Hey Cheri, how about you?”
Unlike Chris, Cheri had to think about her answer. “My first instinct was to say my Diaper Darlin’ Dolly. I really liked feeding her and changing her diapers, but I truly think my favorite gift was camp.”
A hush descended over the room. Willow knew instinctively that Cheri meant the camp she’d been prevented from attending by the bus hijackers. Christopher rubbed his hand across his forehead surreptitiously wiping away tears as he did. “You have no idea how hard we prayed over that decision. We always wonder if you resent us for it.”
“Of course not! It was the best summer of my life. It was horrible but so wonderful. I guess I never thanked you. I’m sorry.”
Amazed, Willow watched as Cheri flung herself into her father’s arms settling into them on his lap. Her heart tugged in directions she’d never imagined. The relationship of father and daughter was something she couldn’t fathom. It was, well, inconceivable. She tried to imagine her relationship with the Lord as an equivalent but the idea of the Lord’s arms wrapped around her so lovingly and protectively was impossible to grasp.
Self-recrimination also flooded Willow’s heart. The story of Cheri’s abduction and persecution had horrified Willow. She’d been thankful for a protective mother and a sheltered world where that kind of harm was nearly impossible. Even seeing the blossoming and growth that Cheri obviously experienced didn’t warm Willow to the idea that such beauty and good could come from a horrifying experience like that and she certainly was willing to be a weaker Christian if it meant safety from mental and physical torture.
Anxious to change the subject, Willow nudged Chad’s knee with her foot. “What was your favorite gift?”
“My sheriff set.”
Chris and Cheri erupted in laughter. While they joked about him never growing up, Willow watched a silent exchange between Chad and his father. “Why is it so funny? I would think that’s a perfect gift for him.”
“He was sixteen!” gasped Cheri as she went off into further gales of laughter. “He never did get that it was a joke.”
Willow’s quiet voice pierced through the hilarity. “I think that you missed the punch line then.”
“Huh?”
Chad shook his head. “Don’t worry about it Willow.”
“I will worry about it!” she insisted. “Your parents gave him that set as a way of telling Chad that they’d support him in his dream even if they didn’t understand it and I think it’s beautiful.”
The Tesdall family watched amused as Chad squeezed Willow’s foot and smiled gratefully at her. “It’s ok. They know what I mean even if these twits don’t get it.”
Calling for hot chocolate orders, Cheri escaped to the kitchen to avoid showing her amusement. Marianne, desperate to change the discussion before her emotions spun out of control, redirected the questions back to Willow. “Your gifts seem unique Willow, what other gifts have you received?”
“From mother?”
“Well, I assumed-”
Smiling brightly, Willow plunged into a description of birthdays, Valentine’s Days, and Christmases. “Well, I think some of my favorites were probably my tree blocks, Chinese checkers, and my shower cap.”
“You got a shower cap for Christmas?” Marianne’s disbelief was almost comical.
“The year mother put in a shower for me she gave me a shower cap for Christmas. I love that shower cap. I still have it.”
“Why is it so special to you?” The psychologist in Chris was coming out in full force.
“Because it was mother saying that she embraced the shower, not just tolerated it. Mother didn’t like showers. She loved baths but she put that shower head in just for me.”
Cheri, calling from the kitchen, asked curiously, “What are tree blocks?”
Mother took the smallest branches from trees we used for wood and carefully cut logs, intersections, slices for floors and things like that, sanded them, oiled them well, and gave them to me for playing. They’re like building blocks that create a tree house or fort or whatever you want it to be. I still bring it and my fairies out and decorate it with tea lights at Christmas.”
“Fairies?” Chad had a sudden mental image of Willow with two braids, overalls, and oversized front teeth playing with delicately crafted dolls in her room or on the porch.
“Mother made them. I made angel fairies one year but they weren’t as pretty as Mother’s.”
The clock chimed ten before the men finally dragged themselves off to bed. Feeling awkward at leaving Willow at the mercy of his mother and sister, Chad lay on his bed in the room he’d just left the previous year. Willow and Cheri changed into pajamas and started the slumber party rituals while Marianne mixed a batch of brownies. The night had just begun.
Thirty minutes later, Willow sat with a bowl of popcorn, a batch of brownies, and green goop on her face watching the fascinating world of internet communication as Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks sparred over caviar. Cheri rolled her hair in hot rollers and peeled the goop from Willow’s face leaving it red and raw; however, after a slathering of deep moisturizing cream, she felt rejuvenated.
The by the time Joe Fox and Kathleen Kelly faced off in the coffee shop, Willow’s hair was bouncing around her head in curls that rapidly drooped into nearly non-existent waves. “I told you my hair didn’t curl. It kinks, but not curls.”
After Brinkley brought the couple together, Cheri led Willow to the guest room and turned down the covers. “I’m really glad you came Willow,” she began. “You’re good for us. You’re really good for Chad but you’ve been good for us as well.”
Unsure of what else to say, Willow smiled half-heartedly and whispered, “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed being here.”
Once Cheri left, Willow curled under the covers and reached for the lamp only to remember that there was none. She scrambled from the bed, snapped off the light switch, banged her knee into the footboard, and crawled back into bed muttering, “It’s illogical to put the switch across the room so you have to cross it blindly when you’re already tired. Lamps are better.”
Sleep refused to come. The bed was comfortable, the pillows fluffy, and Cheri’s pajamas were the most comfortable thing Willow had ever worn to bed but her mind refused to quiet down and let her rest. The hum of the furnace and the periodic blasts of air rattled vent covers and kept her mind spinning. Sirens wailed now and then and dogs barked and howled at odd times.
A crack of light appeared from the door. “Willow? You sleeping?”
She started to sit up but Chad opened the door further and waved her back in bed. “Don’t get up,” he whispered. “I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable and that mom and Cheri didn’t pester you.”
“You’re supposed to be asleep. You have to get up in a few hours.”
Chad sat on the floor in front of her nightstand, wrapped his arms around his knees, after pushing her shoe in front of the door to keep it from closing. “I’m used to it. Did you like the movie? I think I heard You’ve Got Mail.“
“It was nice. I didn’t understand a lot of it. They were talking on computers somehow which makes no sense.”
“I like Tom Hanks.”
“Who is that?”
A comfortable sense of the new familiar settled around them. Willow didn’t fit in his world and comments like that were delightful reminders of that. “Joe Fox. His real name is Tom Hanks.”
“I didn’t like how they got divorced. That was sad.”
“Who, Joe’s father? I didn’t like that whole sub-plot. It wasn’t necessary to the advancement of the story at all.”
Her head shook and the light streaming in from the hall made interesting shadows on the wall as she gesticulated. “No, Joe and Kathleen. Why did they have to be married? Couldn’t they have just been single people? The infidelity made me feel icky.”
Chad’s heart dropped. He hadn’t thought about how she’d see things. Had he been more perceptive, he could have prevented her from being exposed to things he knew her mother had deliberately avoided or at the least, warned her of content first. “Willow, they weren’t married. Neither one of them was married.”
“I guess I don’t understand why they made it seem like they were then. Either way, it wasn’t necessary except that Frank was a great character. I liked what they did with him.”
She struggled with questions she wanted to ask and Chad rested his back against the nightstand feeling like things were right in his world again. “Thanks for understanding about my sheriff set.”
“I like the teasing and banter you have with your siblings. It’s endearing most of the time. I just think sometimes you don’t seem to know when to be serious and when to be silly.”
“I think you’ll find that we’re most silly when we feel most serious.”
As she mulled his words, Willow remembered a question she’d longed to ask. “How can Cheri be so grateful for such an awful experience? What happened to her when she went to camp that time- it’s frightening to me. I don’t think I could be thankful for it.”
Chad ached to explain it in depth. The family had given their word that the events surrounding those weeks in Cheri’s life wouldn’t be shared with anyone. “Willow, I can’t tell you all I want to about that time. It’s not my story to tell. I can tell you that I truly believe if you lived it as Cheri did, you’d say the same thing that she does. It changed her life, for the better, and she would do it over again in a heartbeat.”
“I don’t think so, Chad. I’ve learned from this that I am weaker than I ever imagined. It scares me to think that such a thing can happen in this country. I just want to go home, hide out on my farm, and forget the world and the people in it if it means I’ll be safe from that kind of persecution. I don’t think I’m prepared for difficult times.”
Willow felt Chad’s hand seeking hers. As he wove their fingers together, he prayed aloud. Asking for faith, understanding, and boldness in Christ, Chad prayed for guidance and wisdom. Eventually, he felt her hand slacken and her breathing grow soft and rhythmic. He stood at the side of her bed watching her sleep for a few seconds and then turned to leave the room. His mother’s silhouette blocked the doorway.
“Is she ok Chaddie?”
“She’s feeling inadequate as a Christian.”
Nothing Chad could have said would have surprised Marianne Tesdall more. “How is that possible?” she whispered back.
“Cheri’s persecution is hitting home. It’s the antithesis of what the Finley farm is all about. Where Cheri embraces her painful circumstances, Willow flees them as her mother taught her and now she’s struggling.”
Marianne followed her son into his room, pulled the covers over him and laying one hand on his cheek said, “I’m proud of you son. I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of you.”
The family was cheering and hugging one another as Willow and Chad entered. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy to see us but-” Chad began.
“Luke’s engaged! Aggie said yes! He’s coming back late tonight with video footage of the proposal,” Cheri squealed excitedly.
Libby beamed at Willow. “I’m going to be an instant grandma all over again! Can you stay and watch it with us tomorrow?”
“Yeah!” Cheri’s enthusiasm was infectious. “After the guys get back from their shopping frenzy, we can have pizza and tease Luke!”
Seeing the uncertainty in Willow’s eyes, Libby thought she understood. “Oh, how silly of me. Chad’s here. He can’t take care of the animals if you’re not home. I’ll find a way to bring it to you.”
Chad pulled Willow aside. “Judith would go out and make sure the animals had water and food. I know she would. Do you want to stay overnight and see the tape?”
“I couldn’t ask-”
“Look, if you had to milk the goat, I wouldn’t have suggested it, but anyone can sprinkle feed for chickens and dump some alfalfa for goats and sheep and a cow.”
Chad’s grandmother passed by saying, “Well if Aggie knows what’s good for her, she’ll renege and run. Misery. She’s asking for misery.”
Willow’s patience with the constant berating and negativity was gone. “I think that’s a horrible thing to say.” She said coolly and to Chad’s ears, terrifyingly calmly. “Luke is a good man and will cherish her.”
A cold stillness filled the room. Everyone waited for Grandmother Tesdall to pounce. Misery welled in Willow’s heart. She hadn’t meant to say what she thought aloud. “I’m sorry Mrs. Tesdall. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you think it,” the irascible woman countered.
“Yes, but thinking something doesn’t give us the right to be rude and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you?”
Willow heard a few gasps and blushed. “Actually, I don’t know you. I don’t like the way you talk to your husband though, and I don’t think you know Luke very well if you think Aggie would be better off without him.”
Chad felt like sinking into the floor. His grandmother would explode. To everyone’s surprise, however, she laughed. “I like you girl. You’ve got spunk.” She turned to Chad and said, “Keep this one. She’s worth a hundred of the princesses out there.”
Grandpa Tesdall paused beside her and kissed Willow’s cheek as he followed his wife into the living room. She laid a hand on his arm and smiled into his eyes. “Mr. Tesdall, try kindness. I think it’ll gentle her. Someone somewhere said something that made her feel weak or foolish for being proud of her husband and she’s just protecting herself.”
Chuck saw Cheri nudge Chris. He watched as brother and sister exchanged knowing glances while watching Chad and Willow. A camera appeared from Cheri’s pocket, snapped a picture of Chad murmuring something into Willow’s ear and Willow’s amused reply. Chuck knew Willow wasn’t interested in him as a man. He’d tried to ignore the obvious but she’d made it clear enough to break through his thick head. He also knew that she wasn’t any more interested in Chad than she was in him even though it was evident that she enjoyed his company more.
He felt a nudge and met Cheri’s eyes. “Aren’t they cute?” Cheri whispered. “They’ve got to figure it out someday.”
“I don’t know,” he hedged. “Willow made it very plain that there is no time in her life for romance.”
“She just met Chad first,” Cheri consoled. “She was being nice to you.”
For the first time he could remember, Chuck spoke truth that didn’t benefit him. “I wish that was true. Especially if Chad has a thing for her but Willow doesn’t do that. If she’s interested, she won’t pretend she isn’t. She’s too honest for that.”
Curious about Chuck’s assertions, Cheri patted his arm and hurried to where Chad and Willow discussed something in hushed tones. “Hey, is he convincing you to stay?”
“Well-”
“Oh come on, you’ve never had a slumber party! We can so do it! I’ll give you a facial; we’ll roll our hair, and watch the chickiest chick flicks I can find.”
“Chris, can I come home with you?”
“No way bro, you’re staying.” To Willow she added, “We’ll torture him. It’ll be great.”
The constant ribbing of sibling relationships was utterly foreign to her. Their banter bordered on vicious but a deep closeness and obvious love overrode any unflattering impressions. ”Chad’s my ride. If he’s staying, I’m staying.”
Chad grinned. “I’ll call Judith.”
Chuck pulled Cheri from the room and down to the basement. “Ok, what gives? You’ve been taking pictures of them all day and now you’re pushing her to stay.”
Cheri’s smile lit up her face hiding the slight scar along her upper lip. Everyone assumed Cheri had a repaired cleft lip and palate but an accident as a toddler was responsible for her scaring. “I want to see if I’m right, and I am, and pictures are for proving things to those who are a little resistant to the idea.”
“Blackmail?”
Hooking her arm in his, Cheri climbed the stairs. “Kind of reverse blackmail.”
***
“Willow, I’m going to go dress for dinner, want to come talk to me?”
Chad heard Cheri from the other side of the room but couldn’t catch Willow’s eyes quickly enough. Willow agreed cheerfully and followed Cheri upstairs taking her own tote bag with her. “Oh brother,” he muttered to himself.
Willow found Cheri’s room fascinating. The walls were plastered with travel posters and overlapping those, were prayer cards of missionaries from that area. India had missionaries in Mumbai, Delhi, Thane, Jaipur, and Agra. As she spun in a circle, she saw posters of Peru, Cambodia, South Africa, and New Guinea.
“You want to travel.”
“Sort of- I want to be a traveling missionary kid tutor.”
Impressed but clueless, Willow asked the obvious question. “What exactly do you do as a traveling missionary tutor?”
“Well, I want to serve missionary families instead of serving as a missionary. So, I want to travel to different families and help with their kids education. So many of these families home school- it’s not like they have a choice, but they grow weary sometimes. I just want to come help and give mom and dad a rest while I tackle the humps their kids can’t get over.”
“That sounds wonderful! Is there an organization that you go through or-”
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked that far yet. My job now is to get my education.”
Willow nodded appreciatively. “So how did you decide to do this?”
While Cheri changed for dinner, she told about her summer of persecution in high school. “It was awful. The constant pressure to recant, to deny the Lord, the hard labor, the sleeplessness, and the fear-”
“You weren’t abused physically?” Willow hardly got the words out of her mouth.
“Not really. Just hard physical labor and sleep deprivation- some hunger but not too much. A few of the girls were propositioned though. Offered an easier time for favors.”
“How did you escape?” Willow’s horror was evident.
“You know where it says in first Corinthians that you won’t be tempted without a way of escape? Well, there was. One by one, we all got out and back to our homes. It changed all of us.”
The story of the camp bus hijacking terrified Willow just to hear of it. “My mother moved from Rockland because of a horrible experience. People think it is so terrible that she protected us- isolated even, but I am glad. To endure something like that-”
“Is a privilege if it’s for Jesus who endured so much worse. Trust me, if you lived through it, you would have stood firm and come out a much stronger Christian. We all did.”
“Right here in America. Who would have imagined!”
Their discussion moved to more pleasant topics as Cheri swiped a mascara brush over her eyelashes and put on a light coat of lip-gloss. Willow felt damp from over warmth and pulled a fresh shirt and her tin of deodorant powder from her tote bag. “I’ll be right back.”
When she returned, Cheri caught the slight whiff of lavender as Willow crossed the room. “Is that your perfume? It smells so clean.”
“Deodorant.”
“What brand?”
Willow handed her tin of deodorant powder to Cheri and began unbraiding her hair. Cheri was amazed and immediately asked how it was made. “It’s just a fifty-fifty solution of baking soda and cornstarch with some crushed lavender. Mom liked dried mint better.”
“I’ll have to remember that when traveling. I might not be able to find Arrid Extra Dry but cornstarch and baking soda are easy enough to find.”
Willow flipped her hair over her head and rubbed the scalp well. As she reached for her brush, Cheri cried, “No! What are you doing?”
“Brushing my mess.”
“But it looks great like that. Why ruin it?”
The memory of Chad’s reaction at the mid-summer’s faire caught her off guard. “He wasn’t teasing.”
“What?”
“Chad said something once when I unbraided my hair and I thought he was mocking me.”
Adding this tidbit to her growing arsenal, Cheri nodded hands on hips. “Well he was right. You look cool.”
“But if I don’t brush it out, it’ll stay kinky and wavy. My hair doesn’t curl much at all but it does kink well from a braid.”
Cheri ran her fingers through her own hair demonstrating how to arrange it. “Just run your fingers through to tame the couple of snarls and let it hang. If you had bangs, it might be a bit bushy but this works. It has that Sandra Bullock slash Drew Barrymore appeal- tousled but not messy.”
Willow adjusted her skirt, tried to forget about her messy hair, and stood ready for inspection. “Will I do?”
“That skirt is to die for. With boots, you’d be a walking advertisement for Boho. I’ve got to go see how that skirt looks on me in my size.”
“This one didn’t come from there but I’ll make you one if you like.”
Cheri squealed and pushed Willow from the room. “Oh I’m going to like having you in the family.”
“But I’m not-”
“Pop said we’re adopting you as one of the family.” As Willow’s face drew tight with concern, Cheri added reassuringly, “He said no marriage license required!”
As they started down the stairs, Cheri nudged her gently. “Look, Chuck is trying to be patient with Uncle Edwin.” Something in Chad’s eyes caught Cheri’s attention and she added, “And if Chad’s Adam’s apple bobs, you’ll know I was right about that hair.”
Willow tried not to look. A significant part of her didn’t want to know, but like anyone, when told not to look, it was impossible to avoid. Chad glanced up from a photo album he shared with his grandmother and swallowed hard. He scooted closer to his grandmother to make room and jerked his head to the spot next to him.
“Come see how cute I was.”
Cheri grinned and pushed Willow towards the couch as she quipped, “Emphasis on the was, brother o’ my laddie.”
Willow’s attention was immediately on the children in the pictures. She recognized Zeke and Libby and even Grandmother Tesdall but miniature versions of Cheri, Chris, and Chad held her attention.
At a quarter after six, Marianne called everyone to the table. Chad motioned for Willow to stay seated as he led his grandmother to her chair. His thoughtfulness and gentleness, while expected by Wanda Tesdall, was appreciated by Willow. He returned immediately and escorted her to the table commenting quietly that her hair looked lovely.
“Cheri told me not to brush it out.”
“Seems like I said something like that once, and you ignored me.”
“Well, to be honest, I’m not sure I agree with either one of you and I don’t think I care if I look like Sandra or Barry but I wasn’t going to be difficult about something so minor in your home as your guest.”
As he pushed in her chair, Chad murmured quietly in her ear, “I’ll remember to wait until you’re at my house next time I want you to do something.”
“Ok, everyone has their paper?” Christopher loved this part of Thanksgiving. For the past five years, it’d been an insight into his children when he didn’t understand them but long before that, it’d been a way to connect with the hearts in his family. “Libby, why don’t you read yours first?”
“Ok, my words are practical wisdom. If I thought she’d be thankful for herself, I think I’d say it was Willow’s- it fits her perfectly- but I think she’s a little too modest for that.”
“Hear, hear!” Chuck cried with loud applause. Cheri pulled his arms down and told him to hush sending titters around the table.
“Well, I don’t know,” Libby continued. “It has to be about someone other than the person so someone is thankful for someone else who is wise. I-” She paused at a flicker in Chad’s eye and realized exactly who had written the word and why. “I know. And I’m not telling.”
“It’s you! Someone said you’re wise. I’ve always said it,” Marianne announced triumphantly.
Willow asked to see the note. “Well, it’s not Chad’s handwriting or I would have said Chad. He’s always saying how wise his father is and how much common sense he has so I would have guessed it was Chad being thankful for his father’s wisdom.”
“You’re never coming back,” Chad protested. “You’re too good.”
“That was my guess as well. Good one Chad.” Seeing her brother choke up with emotion, Libby patted Edwin’s arm and encouraged him to go next.
Around the table, people guessed until Grandfather Tesdall read ‘commencement’. “My guess is Cheri since she graduates this spring.”
“Nope! I was crayons remember?”
Chris nudged Cheri and they exchanged knowing glances as Chad’s hand slipped from the table and squeezed Willow’s under the cloth. Chris piped up. “I think it’s Willow. She began a new life this year and she’s practicing thankfulness for it.”
“Practicing!” Chad protested.
“He’s right,” she answered quietly. “I am deliberately thankful. It’s not spontaneous gratitude but when I think about all the good that has come from the changes in my life, as much as I wish I could go back to last spring, I don’t. I just wish I could have the changes and Mother.”
The kitchen buzzer buzzed sending nervous laughter around the table. Chad’s mother smiled. “Roll’s are done, we can continue after dinner is served. Cheri?”
Libby rose with Cheri and Marianne and disappeared into the kitchen. One look at Willow’s face told Chad she was about to lose control. Without a word, he stood and pulled out her chair for her. “Excuse us.”
Taking her hand, he led her from the room, up the stairs, and into the guest room shutting the door behind them. Tears were already splashing down her cheeks. “I’m sorry Chad- it’s such a happy day for everyone and I’m being ungrateful.”
He held her silently as she cried until a new thought crossed his mind. “I didn’t think, Willow. I know how important holidays were to you and your mother. I didn’t think about the fact that this is your first big holiday without her.”
Her sobs grew deeper and more heart wrenching. Chad tried to comfort her but was unable to be much help. He pushed her onto the end of the bed and handed her a pillow. “Hold onto that. Just a minute.”
Downstairs, he grabbed Libby’s arm and pulled her away from the sideboard whispering something in her ear. Libby’s eyes glanced at the stairs and she nodded. She untied her apron, tossed it over the back of her chair, and hurried up the stairs to the guest room.
As sorry as Cheri was for Willow’s pain, she couldn’t help a certain amount of satisfaction over the wet patches and wrinkled spots from obvious grips on Chad’s shirt. Marianne, however, was unnerved. The last time Chad had shown half the care and concern for someone; Linnae Burrell had accused him of shredding her heart for the fun of it.
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
“
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
I was talking with my eldest the other day and she pointed out what a great blog prize a Willow Tree figurine would be for this story. Well now, I’m not a big fan of most of the Willow Tree things but occasionally I see one that makes me smile at least. This one wrung my heart. For the first time, I see raw emotion. (I will be buying from the above website since I found it on there.)
This woman, to me, is a perfect representation of Kari. She’s protective (The name of the piece is The Guardian). She’s there to be the buffer against the storms of this world- a shield against evil. But there’s more to it than that. I see vulnerability in the woman. She’s so strong, protective, but she isn’t invincible. It just fit the story perfectly.
So, this is the prize. I will have this shipped to the winner. But what is the contest? Glad you asked.
Write somethign for Willow. It can be dialogue, a journal entry for Kari, a scenario- anything. It doesn’t have to be polished. It might even not end up looking like you intended it to by the time I incorporate it into the story (because people interpret differently etc) but the winning entry will get
1. The above figurine sent to the address of their choice
and
2. Their idea “published” in the story.
This contest ends, Wednesday, September 30 at 6:00 PM PST. I’ll post a winner ASAP.
Enter as often as you like. Sky is truly the limit. (Well, our atmosphere is. No sending her to the moon. I won’t use it. Snort.)
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
If I was going to use something OTHER than Past Forward (Which I still love) I think Anne’s simple title,
Willow
would be it.
I tend to think of all of my books as the main character’s name anyway. I have Alexa, Grace, Ami, Hope, Ella…. the list goes on for HOURS (ok, not hours but it’s knd of pathetic)
So Anne…. Email me your addy and watch in the mail for…
PUT PICS BACK
And when you turn them over they’ll look like this!
PIC HERE
YEEEEEEEHAW!
(New give away coming Monday! Keep your fingers pealed!
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Or: What I did when I let my daughter use my laptop for an English paper yesterday.
PUT PIC BACK
Of course, it isn’t perfect. No matter what I did, I couldn’t make the driveway long enough. Perspetive is WAY off… some things are much bigger than they should be others are much smaller… but hey. I’m no artist and it was fun!
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Ok, another contest. Why? Cause I like em. It’s FUN.
PUT PICS BACK
These are the prize. Pretend they’re the ones Willow made! They’re actually made by my lovely and talented friend Cathe and can be purchased from her if you don’t win. I have a set of four of these in my kitchen colors and I LOVE them. L.O.V.E. Thought you oughtta know.
So. How do you win them? This time it’s not um… what’s the word I need… (forgive me, my inner thesaurus and dictionaries are depleted after thousands of words on “paper”)… well anyway, I get to choose my favorite name and no random anything or non-biased thing like that gets to choose. Sue me.
So your task? Rename this story. The current name is staying- I like it and think it’s a cool play on words. BUT… I always get a kick out of what other people come up with.
Everyone gets 3 names per entry. Every home can have as many entries as they have people who can type ‘em out.
Deadline is Saturday 12 Noon PST
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
PUT PIC BACK
The scintillating and highly impartial word… Government!
I was at word 100,129 when I realized that I might have hit the 100k jackpot. So, I checked it out and found word 100,000. NOT easy to do BTW. NOT easy to do. Every time I thought I’d gotten the right number of words selected, I’d hit word count and I’d still have too many words. It was ridiculous. However, I didn’t want to include the book title, my address, and all that jazz as part of the word count so I had to start with only the beginning soooo it took a bit.
Now Government wasn’t one of the words chosen. I can’t imagine why! Off I went to find ALL G words
I found
God
Good
Goat
Garden
So I added Government to the list and alphabetized them….
Garden
Goat
God
Good
Government
The closest word was good. I find that hysterical. Good Government. Isn’t that an oxymoron? I love it. I’m howling here but there’s more. I have to find the winner!
Off I go to find good again. I find it.
PUT PIC BACK
Tony! Congratulations! I’m sure you’ll look lovely in your apron! (Do you have a color preference? I want to see a picture of you in it carrying your chic tote!)
This was so much fun! Up next week? Quilted Autumn Pot holders… just cause I felt like it.
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
The sun beat down on him but Chad pushed the mower through the hay and ignored the fatigue that attacked his muscles. The field was half mowed. Another three or four hours and he’d be done if he could keep up the pace.
He mowed, raked, carted, stacked, and packed down the hay. Then, out of some sadistic need to torture himself, he repeated the process until the entire field was finished. Chad checked his phone again but there were no missed calls. It was nearly five o’clock. How much later could they release her?
At the sound of an approaching vehicle, Chad stepped from the barn wiping his forehead with his forearm. Bill’s car. He must have decided to drive her home without calling. Chad wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed. Ever since the accident, Bill had become quite proprietary regarding Willow and her affairs.
Chad rushed to open the door for her but Bill intercepted him. “She can’t bathe easily yet and you’re covered with-” Bill raked his eyes over Chad searching for the word that eluded him. “Weeds-”
“It’s alfalfa Bill and it’s fine. Chad’s probably exhausted though. That scythe is awful.”
“I bought a sickle bar mower. I did the whole thing in just a few hours.”
“Wow! Really? Mother was fast but it usually took her a good two or three days to do it all.”
As Willow spoke, Bill lifted her from the car and started for the door. “Can you get her stuff Tesdall?”
He knew he was being a jerk. However, the last thing Bill wanted to do is let Willow think she could manage the farm by herself. Gas powered mowers weren’t steps in the direction he’d hoped to take things. He steadied his nerves, took a deep breath, and as Chad arrived, tried again.
“Sorry Chad. I’ve been out of sorts ever since Willow hurt herself but it’s no excuse for rudeness.”
Chad waved him off and excused himself. When the shower came on minutes later, Bill smiled at Willow. “All that work has got to get to a man’s muscles.”
“Chad’s strong. He can handle it. I just wish I could have tried it. It sounds like so much fun!”
Bill tried to get her comfortably settled on the chaise but the s-curve that she usually found comfortable pressed cruelly on her stitches. “What about the couch?”
“It’s too short to sleep on. I’ll need my bed.” Willow tried to stand but pressure on the leg was still obnoxiously painful.
“Chad! Can you help us down here?”
Thinking there was some emergency, Chad threw his shirt over one shoulder and took the stairs three at a time.
Seeing her half standing staring at him as if he was crazy, he pulled on his t-shirt. “What are we doing?”
“We need to get her upstairs. This thing is too uncomfortable and that thing is too short.”
“We could bring her bed down here-”
“Either help me up those stairs or get out of my way.”
Willow’s voice left no room for questions. She’d have her way or they’d die from her trying. Bill picked her up once more and asked Chad to follow. “I just don’t want to fall down the stairs with her.”
Once in her own bed, Willow glanced around the room smiling. “Home is wonderful, isn’t it? No beeping machines, no nurses to wrangle with, and no physical therapists.”
“You need that physical therapy, Willow. Dr.-”
Impatiently, Willow waved him away from her. “Go home Bill. Thank you for bringing me home but I think you need a good night’s sleep. You’ve been grouchy ever since Alexa and Libby left. Chad’s here and his Aunt Libby said she’d come stay.” Willow squeezed Bill’s hand warmly and made shooing motions at him.
“I guess I know when I’m not wanted,” Bill joked half seriously. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday. Call me Monday afternoon. I need to recuperate from all this attention.” The smile of appreciation on her face soothed the dismissive tone from her words. Bill paused at the door giving her one last glance and then shuffled down the steps and out into the yard. Chad stood at Willow’s window watching as Bill glanced around him shaking his head. He sank into his seat, slammed the car door, and pounded a fist on the steering wheel before he turned the key and backed down the long driveway.
“He’s gone?” The relief in Willow’s voice was crystal clear.
“You were a little hard on him.”
Angry tears flooded her eyes but she wiped them away impatiently. “You didn’t have to listen to him patronize me the entire way home. It was insufferable.”
“Insufferable huh?”
“Decisively.”
Amused but trying not to show it, Chad sought clarification. “What was so patronizing?”
“After all the years we’ve known him, he seems to think that a little cut is going to make me abandon all that we are in this family. He actually suggested I get rid of Wilhelmina! He was here the day they brought her out!”
“I think he is just worried about you. Bill’s probably never seen either one of you injured before. It’s not easy to think of anyone being alone and hurt- especially someone you care about.”
Bill had been a bit high-handed about her situation. From the irritation in Willow’s voice, the interference he’d sensed in the hospital, and even the slight rudeness Bill had displayed tonight, Chad could see that he was stretched to his limit. His concern couldn’t just be that of a financial advisor for a good client. Bill Franklin’s affection for Willow went deeper than tax preparation and a decade of business lunches at the Finley Farm.
Willow’s contrite voice broke Chad’s reverie. “You’re right. I should call and apologize.”
He brought Willow her purse. She started to dial, closed the phone, and then opened it and dialed again. Chad laughed as a beep resonated from the phone and she left a message. ”It’s not bad that I called him at home where he can’t answer right now, is it?”
“I think under the circumstances, it’s smart. Now how about something to eat?”
“And a glass of milk? That watered down blue milk they had in the hospital was awful!”
***
They talked for hours about the upcoming work. Chad needed rest but he
knew that she’d sleep easier knowing there was a plan. They decided that if necessary, she’d hire some of the teens from the church to pick the fruit if she couldn’t manage by the time it was ripe “I looked at your list of things to do- I think we can manage. Even without you at your top game, I think we can do it.”
“I have more garden to plant. I got the broccoli, cabbage, and beans planted for the fall garden. I was going to add cauliflower for the market but I didn’t get to it in time. Are you sure we can do this? We have to plant the rest of the stuff by the last week of August-”
Chad smiled reassuringly. “We’ll do fine. I’m not sure what we’ll do or how, but we’ll make it work somehow. By the time it gets really cold out there, you’ll be back to normal.”
Her downcast expression unnerved him. Was there more to her injury than he’d been told. “What is it?”
“I hope I’ll be back to normal. They made it sound like if I didn’t do all the physical therapy they wanted I’d lose the use of my foot and if I did do it all, I might lose it anyway. I really messed up that nerve.”
Her bravado was slowly slipping away. She looked lost, confused, and uncertain as she described the exercises and expectations of the doctors. Chad listened and tried to make sense of her rambling thought process until he thought he had a reasonably accurate picture.
“Willow, I’m not a doctor so I can’t say anything definitively on the medical front. However, I do know that you’re strong. You are healthy. And, if there is anyone more determined than you are, I’ve never met them. You’re going to be fine because you’re going to make it fine.”
Understanding dawned as he realized the pain in her eyes wasn’t just emotional. He pulled a sheaf of papers from the plastic hospital bag and read them carefully. “It’s past time for your pain medication. Do you want some more milk with it or should I get you some water?
***
At nine forty-five, Chad stood in the doorway of Willow’s room and watched her sleep. Her phone lay next to her on the table, a glass of water sat there too, and his note was pinned under both. Her photo album, several of Kari’s journals, and her planning journal were stacked on the bed far enough away that he hoped she wouldn’t knock them to the floor.
He glanced at his watch. He had to go. Should he light a candle? Flip on the breaker and turn the hall light on? The moon kept dipping behind clouds- what if she needed the bathroom and couldn’t see? Shaking his head, he grabbed his gun belt from Kari’s bed and crept down the stairs. Willow Finley could probably find the barn in her sleep and the risk of fire was ridiculous.
The normal sounds of footsteps in the house, on the stairs, and doors opening and closing barely pierced her subconscious mind but the moment Chad’s truck door slammed shut, instantly Willow was wide awake. “Chad?”
Now fully awake, she could sense her solitude. The sound of his truck starting and crunching the dirt as he drove away was a new familiar one. She’d learned, in recent months, to tell the difference between his truck, the cruiser, Jill’s truck, and Bill’s sedan.
Moonlight streamed across the room for a brief moment before another cloud plunged the room back in darkness. Her leg throbbed. She’d seen a note on her table. How she’d read it without a candle or lamp she wasn’t sure.
Carefully, Willow felt her bedside table. Water glass, oil lamp, match-basket, cell phone, paper. Her hand sought the glass again and lifted it to remove the paper. Her cell phone went skittering across the slick hardwood floor under the bed. “Drat.”
Staring at the paper, Willow tried to find a smidgeon of light but it was hopeless. She set the note on her bed and reached gingerly for the match-basket. The last thing she needed to do was spill a glass of water on it. Light flickered from the match and then glowed from the lamp. Yes. Light was a good thing. She grabbed the note once more.
Willow,
I hope I did right not to wake you. You seemed to need the rest. There is a glass of water on the table, a sandwich on a plate on that shelf under the table, and a sliced tomato with it. Don’t eat the sandwich after 2 am. I’ll stop by then on my break and make a fresh one if you didn’t eat it.
I’ll be back around seven. I have to go home for a change of clothes. Aunt Libby can’t come. Aggie’s kids all have the chicken pox. Ugh. I’ll talk to Mrs. Allen and see about getting people who can come. Maybe they can rotate or something. Regardless, I’ll stay until you can milk again at least.
Please don’t try to go downstairs. I think a fall on that leg could really tear up those stitches. I’m praying for you.
Chad
Disappointment washed over her. She’d looked forward to Libby coming to stay. Something about Chad’s aunt reminded her of her mother. The self-assurance, the humor- something was familiar but Willow was drawn most to her gentleness. Kari, with all of her virtues, wasn’t a gentle woman. While far from harsh, she’d been injured by the world and it showed.
The phone said it was ten o’clock. Should she call Bill and apologize? Chad seemed to think she’d been too hard on him. Willow remembering how angry her mother could seem when she was frightened for their safety. The hard tones of her voice echoed in Willow’s memory and a trace of the familiar followed. She’d sounded just like her mother.
Nature called but never had it been so difficult to answer. Pulling her leg out of bed was difficult enough but stepping on it even briefly sent stabs of pain through her entire body. Not exactly the kind of thing you want to feel when your bladder is fighting you every, pardon the pun, step of the way.
Willow wanted a shower. Badly. The thought of warm clear water pounding away the knots formed in that hospital bed tempted her. Knowing she hadn’t had a proper shower since working in the hay taunted her. However, the realization that if she wasn’t cleaned up before Chad arrived with his feminine cavalry sent her digging into her dresser drawer feverishly.
The bath itself was comical. She couldn’t keep her leg outside the tub, she didn’t trust herself to stand on only one leg, and so as much as she preferred showers, the bath was her only option. She sat their bathroom stool inside the tub and let it fill. It was a fight, but eventually Willow managed to pull the spray nozzle from the hook above the tub. It hadn’t been removed since the day Kari installed it.
The water felt wonderful. The light swipes of wet cloths in the hospital did little to provide the refreshing feeling of a real bath. She tried to clean her other leg with a washcloth but couldn’t help but feel a little less clean on the left side of her body.
As the water drained, Willow had an idea and seconds later her left foot soaked comfortably in three inches of water. She barely gave her lower leg a lick and a promise but her feet and upper leg felt fine. Wonderfully fine.
Willow needed a second, or even a third towel. Finagling the procurement of said towel was more difficult than the realization of her need for it. She felt quite foolish with a towel wrapped around her head, one around her left leg, and one around the rest of her as she hobbled from bath to bedroom.
Every step was excruciating. The leg towel fell at the bathroom door. Her body towel caught on the door latch and hung there defiantly. “At least my hair is reasonably modest. Mental note, Willow Anne Finley: No baths when people are present in the house.”
At two-fifteen, Chad rushed up the stairs needing a pit stop himself but froze at the sight of a wet towel across the doorway of the bathroom. Light flickered from Willow’s room and a towel hung from the door latch. Nervously he inched his way into the room and hesitated once more at the sight of a third towel at the foot of the bed.
Feeling somewhat like Noah’s sons, Chad grabbed the towel from the latch and half backed toward the bed tossing the towel in the general shape of the lump his peripheral vision showed. “Wha-” Willow stirred but drifted back to sleep. With one eye, Chad peeked toward the bed and sighed in relief. She was dressed.
“I have got to find someone to come out here,” he muttered to himself as he gingerly removed the towel, blew out the light, and retreated from the room.
At dawn, Willow awoke feeling fully refreshed. Her hair was a wild mat of twisted tendrils and her clothes were rumpled but aside from the continual throbbing in her calf, she felt wonderful. She slipped from the bed and hobbled from the room and to the bathroom. At the door, she paused. Where was the towel? She glanced back at her doorway. No towel there.
“Oh Lord, thank you for the strength to finish dressing! Ugh!”
By the time she returned to her bed, Willow was exhausted. Never had she imagined that answering the call of nature could be so physically draining. The next time nature called, she planned to have an answering machine like Bill’s.
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Sandi in NC!!!
put back pics
Just in case anyone wonders how I did it. I copied PW. Sue me.
Sandi, email me your addy and I’ll pop this pinny in the mail!
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
Out for nap- be back soon!
~Willow
