You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2009.
August
He’s home. I cannot believe he was gone for so long. The final surgery was successful. The doctor says he’ll have full use of his hand but that it’ll take work to make it strong again. He’s been target shooting with both hands and is determined to get back on track. He can’t go back to work until mid-September according to the Chief. Even then, he’s going to have to run some kind of obstacle course first. Chad called it a PAT which e says stands for Physical Agility Test. The way he said it, I can’t decide if it was a joke or if that’s what it is really called. He said he had it ‘down PAT’ so I can’t tell.
The first two weeks at home were enough to drive us crazy but now he is working on some kind of strange project. I’m not allowed to go out front and anything that needs to be done out there he does. I don’t really know what is going on but he’s happy and that’s such a nice relief that I am trying not to be frustrated with covering my eyes whenever we go somewhere or come home and not seeing my flowers.
Every month, he watches the calendar closely and I saw him looking very disappointed each time I pull out the box of monthly pads. I cannot decide, however, if the disappointment is because it’s another week ‘apart’ or if it is because it means no baby. Either way, I find it kind of cute and very funny.
I think I need to suggest some kind of party. Maybe something the first weekend of October if he has it off as kind of a ‘celebrate going back to work and all the fruits of our hard work around here’ kind of thing. We could have roasted corn and he could grill those hamburgers he loves so much. (And I can have one without hearing ‘told you’.)
I hear him calling me. It’s an amazing thing. For so long I had no one who called me to see what they were doing or to help them with something. Now I have that again but it’s even better now… now just hearing him call for me gives me such a warm feeling in my heart. That might be why I’m still writing and not running to make sure he hasn’t cut off his other hand…
“I’m coming!”
Chad’s voice boomed up the stairs, “You’re not coming fast enough woman! I am finally done!”
At the bottom of the stairs, Willow sat on the last step, crossed her arms, and looked up at him. “Make me.”
He whirled out the door, charged down the front steps, and disappeared. Seconds later, he stood in front of the screen, hose pouring water all over the porch and grinned. “Get out here or I douse you and half the house.”
“You wouldn’t!”
He reached for the screen handle but Willow jumped and raced to beat him. “You win!” She stopped at the screen and stared at the hose. “Toss the hose buster.”
Chad leaned closer letting the hose touch the wooden accents of the screen door and then flung it behind him. “Come on lass, I am finally done with your gift.”
“Gift?” She pressed her nose to the screen trying to see outside. “What you’ve been doing is a gift for me?”
“I missed your birthday.”
“You were in the hospital! Of course you missed my birthday,” she protested. Willow hadn’t even realized they’d forgotten.
“Better late than never?” He swung the door open and waited for her to step out on the porch. She glanced around the yard, into the pasture, checked the paint, and finally turned to him and shrugged.
“I don’t get it.”
“Look again. Your favorite place out here.”
Her eyes immediately sought the porch swing and almost glanced away again but something wasn’t right. She took another step and then giggled. “Oh my word. You didn’t.” A fresh set of giggles erupted as she stepped closer to the porch swing. “How on earth!”
“I thought it should be more comfortable for you on your late night snoozes.”
“But we can’t sit on it!” The swing-bed was amazing but dismay filled her heart as she imagined sitting with her legs stuck out in front of her awkwardly.
“Oh but look!” Chad hurried to the swing, pushed back two brackets, and the new portion of the swing hung free. “I only added fifteen inches and it’ll need a new pad designed so it can hang down without getting worn out from the edge but…”
“That’s amazing!” Willow lifted the ‘leaf’ of her swing, pulled the slides forward to support the new base and grinned. “I love it!” She threw her arms around him knocking him into the window.
“If I’d have known I’d get attacked again, I would have given you one of Wayne’s daisies.”
“Nope. You would have given it to me sooner…”
***
The Friday before Labor Day, Chad woke up shaking Willow excitedly. “I have a great idea!”
“What? Huh? Are you ok?” The dark sky outside her window told her it was still very early.
“I want to go somewhere. I have two more weeks of time off at least, I’ve gotten good enough at shooting to pas the PAT… let’s go somewhere!”
Willow struggled to sit up and clear her head. She pulled her hair from the braid and reached for a brush as she tried to follow Chad’s train of thought. “Go where?”
“I don’t know- somewhere different. We could go to Jamaica or hmm… maybe Hawaii since you probably don’t have a passport.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Passport?”
“Right. Hawaii- or better yet, California! California has such a huge variety of places to see at once. They have the ocean- you’ve never seen the ocean.”
“No, I’ve never seen the ocean, that’s true.”
“And the mountains, and desert… they’re all like an hour apart. You go from ocean, to mountain to desert. It’s amazing. We could fly out, rent a car, and just tour the state. All those missions…”
Willow dropped her brush hitting her knee and causing an immediate reflex kick. “Are you serious? You want to go to California just like that? What about the animals and-”
“Can’t we get Caleb to sleep out here for two weeks? He did great while you were in the city…”
As she considered his suggestion, Willow played with the brush. Work wasn’t something you just delayed or ignored so that you could enjoy a two week whim. The idea that they could just pack up and go seemed absurd and yet… she glanced in his eyes and saw the excitement, the eagerness. He wanted to go so badly and if there was on thing Chad never did, he never asked anything of her. He gave and gave until she forgot how much of his old life he’d left behind him when he joined her on the farm.
“So how long would we be gone and when would we leave?”
“You’ll go?” Chad hadn’t dared to let himself hope but the more he thought about seeing Willow in the ocean, hiking in the mountains, or chasing lizards- he had no doubt that she’d chase lizards, he wanted to go more than anything he could imagine.
“If I can get them to come get Ditto and take away Dinner… it’d be too much to deal with all of it when I got back… I doubt I’d enjoy the trip if I knew I had that to do but I could butcher the chickens today and if they could come get the animals by Tuesday we could go on Wednesday. I think.”
“I’ll make reservations, find suitcases, and…”
Willow didn’t hear much else he said; her mind was already planning phone calls, clothing, and replanting in order to leave on time. By the time breakfast was over, she’d made a list of things to do, calls to make, and necessary items for a trip and Chad had driven to town to use the library’s internet to order tickets. He arrived home by lunch with tickets and luggage and the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face.
“What’d you get done?”
“They’re coming for Ditto this afternoon. I guess they had a delivery later today anyway and had to drive right by. I’m glad I called early. Mr. McFarland can’t come until Tuesday afternoon and Lily said Caleb could stay out here if Ryder could stay too.” She hesitated. “I think she’s afraid that grandmother Solari will hire someone to kill me at my house and he’ll somehow be mistaken for me.”
“Well, he looks so much like you. I mean, take away six inches, forty pounds, and a head full of hair and you’d be twins- almost.”
Chad passed their itineraries across the kitchen table. Willow reached for them tentatively and then glanced up at him. “We’re really going?”
“The money is spent now, we have to go.”
“Aww… isn’t that too bad. What rotten luck.” Willow winked and passed him a sandwich.
***
Why Chad didn’t think about Willow’s reaction to air travel was something he pondered for years to come. He was used to thinking about her reactions to new and unusual things- well, unusual to her. However, maybe due to lingering effects of various drugs and anesthesia in his system, the lack of sufficient exercise, or because he’d gotten word that the trial was almost over and would probably have a verdict sometime while they were gone Chad entered the airport blissfully clueless of her trepidation and not having prepared her for the reality of security checks, baggage checks, and long waits in lines and even on the plane for simple things like take-off and after landing.
Receiving their boarding passes was a simple process that unfortunately kept the warning bells from sounding. However, the line through security solved that problem. The airport was packed and the lines were long. Bored passengers stood in their own little worlds, some talking on cell phones, others checking their watches as though the minutes would magically convert to seconds by sheer ocular suggestion. Willow took it all in wordlessly.
As they neared the checkpoint, Willow’s eyes widened as a woman was escorted aside and patted down thoroughly. “What are they doing to her! Someone needs to stop them!” Her voice was anything but quiet. The other passengers stared in amazement as she nudged Chad insisting that he go to the woman’s rescue. “You’re an officer, do something.”
Chad cringed as a TSA worker tossed a dirty look in their direction before waving his wand over the body of a teenager with more spikes in her body than a campground of tents. “Shh. Willow, it’s what they do. It’s their job. It’s for our safety now shh.”
She didn’t appreciate being shushed and dismissed so summarily and hissed, “You are telling me that in the United States of America, our citizens are hauled off and physically manhandled under the guise of safety! What are we being protected from I’d like to know!”
“What planet is she from,” the man behind them muttered annoyed.
“It’s because of 9/11, now shh.”
“Why shh!” Willow’s voice scaled higher and then froze mid sentence as she saw Chad unlace his shoes and dump them in a bin. He emptied his pockets, removed his belt, and dumped it all in a basket before sending it through the conveyor belt. From the front of is suitcase, he pulled a zip-lock bag and laid it on top before it went through the scanner.
To her horror, an alarm screamed as he stepped through a door-less doorway. Chad looked confused for a moment, patted himself down slightly and then groaned. “Oh man, I didn’t mean to bring this thing!” He sheepishly pulled his badge from his front shirt pocket and dumped it in the basket. He shrugged at the TSA officer and shrugged. “Habit.”
A second pass with wands showed him clear but the woman receiving his bag shook her head in disgust as she pulled a large tube of toothpaste, shampoo-conditioner mixed bottle, and the brand new bottle of after-shave he’d brought home but not packed. Chad’s eyes widened. “That’s not my stuff.”
“It was on your case mister.”
“It’s yours Chad,” came Willow’s helpful voice.
“But that’s not what I packed!”
“I repacked it. Those tiny things you had in there wouldn’t last you two weeks!” Her eyes grew wide as the officer removed the items from the bag and tossed them in a bin at her feet. “What are you doing! You can’t just take people’s property!”
“Um, yes I can. And shoes off.”
The stubborn look on her face made Chad nearly crazy with frustration. “Just do it Willow.” Her eyes told him no before her mouth could follow but stopped short when he added, “Trust me.” He turned to the officer who waited and said, “She’s never flown before and I didn’t think to prepare her.”
Willow heard something in Chad’s tones that made her somewhat reassured as she slipped off her favorite sandals and sat them in the bin. “Do I have to pull out my toiletries too?”
“Absolutely.”
Impatiently, Willow unzipped her suitcase, pulled out her glass jelly jars of tooth powder, deodorant powder, shampoo, and conditioner. A bar of soap came next followed by a cosmetic bag. “Do I leave the stuff in the bag or dump it in the basket?”
The woman stared slack-jawed for a moment and then tossed all of the jars, approved the soap, but removed face cleanser, toner, and moisturizer from the cosmetic basket and dumped those in the bin at her feet as well. As she stepped through the scanner, Willow found perverse pleasure in seeing that the overhead scanner didn’t make a peep but her triumph was short lived.
“Step over there please.”
Chad groaned. With all of her protests, he hadn’t been surprised but he’d hoped. Willow’s immediate retort sent new waves of nervousness through him. “Do I have the right to refuse?”
“No.”
“Am I under arrest for anything?”
The woman gave her a scathing look. “Should you be?”
“I don’t know, my grandmother is on trial for murder here in this town, maybe I’m guilty by association? Why do you want me to step aside?”
“We need to search you more closely?”
With an expression that Chad found unreadable, the woman said, “Because it’s my job to ensure that no one else gets on a plane and flies it into a building anywhere.”
“Like that could ever happen.”
The woman looked at Chad, her expression priceless. “Is she for real?”
“She’s for real. Just think of her as an Amish woman flying for the first time. She’s clueless and I wasn’t thinking.” Chad’s eyes pleaded with Willow, “Now lass, you need to go over there and let them do their jobs.” His tone became stern- the same one he used with Aiden Cox half a dozen times a week.
Willow’s mortification over being physically patted down, twice, made Chad wince inwardly. She wasn’t going to be happy about that. As if on cue, the moment they stepped away from security and started toward their gate, Willow’s questions flew. “What just happened back there?”
“They checked to make sure that we brought nothing on the plane that could be used as a weapon.”
“What about my knitting needles,” she protested. “Aren’t those a weapon?”
“I’ve never understood that. Maybe because they’re wooden and in your bag.”
“They took my scissors!”
“They were the size of Rhode Island!”
Her frustration boiled over. “So are those knitting needles if you compare sizes!”
As they waited to board their plane, Chad told of the two planes that had flown in to New York’s World Trade Center flattening the towers in the process. His voice choked as he described the plane downed at the Pentagon remembering how he’d been in his first semester at Rockland University and feeling like he’d do anything to be able to go and help the officers in D.C. or NYC. He told of United flight 93 and the courageous men who determined to avoid another major loss of life. “We don’t know for sure if they made it and prevented it or if they just convinced the men to take it down before they got there but most of us like to think they got those-” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Americans have been willing to give up a little of their rights and freedoms since then in order to prevent another chance of that happening. When someone fights it, it makes them look guilty.”
“I thought we were innocent until proven guilty in this country.”
Feeling weary, Chad nodded. “In regards to a crime, you are. If you’re accused of a specific crime, you’re innocent until proven guilty. However,” he continued as a look of triumph entered her eyes, “that doesn’t mean that when a man wants to bring something onto a plane that could be used to control the pilot, we have to let it happen. Especially if that man, or woman, happens to be protesting a bit too much. I’m pretty sure your Shakespeare commented along those lines.”
“But it’s a violation of my rights to tell me what I can and cannot take on a plane. How can they get away with that constitutionally speaking. I’d call what just happened back there ‘unlawful search and seizure.’”
“It’s not a right to ride on the plane though. That right isn’t guaranteed by the Constitution. These are private planes owned by private companies, and they can make any rules they want about who can and cannot fly on them and what they can bring.”
“Oh! I misunderstood. I thought this was some kind of law. If you chose to fly on a plane with these rules, then no, we can’t complain.”
Oh how he wanted to let her think it. The temptation to drop the subject there was so great that Chad nearly offered to bring her a coffee even if it would make her jittery. However, his conscience wouldn’t let him. “It is Federal Law.”
“Then it is still a violation of many people’s rights. The airline doesn’t have jurisdiction over their own property. They’re forced to follow these laws-”
“And what about the rights of the people on the ground? Should they be endangered because an airline decides they’ll let anyone with five hundred dollars and an ID fly on their planes?” He sighed rubbing his temple. “We won’t agree on this Willow. Not right now. How about we table it for some cold winter’s night- after I show you footage from the 9/11 attacks.”
One disaster averted, Chad was relieved when their flight was called to board. Willow followed him onto the plane, down the aisle, and to their seats. He hefted their luggage over his head and into the stowaway bins above their heads “I got you the window,” he said smiling. “I thought you might like to see the clouds up close and personal.”
“You can see the clouds?”
A derisive snort from behind them sent Chad’s blood pressure up a notch but he chose to ignore it. “Yep. My favorite is when we are just going up. You can see all the farms and roads down there. It looks just like one of your quilts.”
She waited expectantly. After what seemed like hours, the Flight Attendants rose and began their normal spiel regarding smoking, oxygen masks, and exit routes. Willow sat quietly, hanging on every word as though it meant life or death.
As the plane taxied down the runway, her hand grabbed his in a vice-like grip. He knew the exact moment her stomach lurched by the way she reached for the complimentary vomit bag in the back of the seat ahead of her. A glance at her told him she was missing the best part of the take-off.
“Look down there.”
With obvious hesitation, Willow opened one eye and glanced out the window. Chad need not have worried. One glance at the ground, the skies, and the sun glistening on the wing behind them was all she needed to overcome the momentary fear in her heart.
“We’re really going!” she whispered awed. Remembering something Marianne had shared once, she turned back to him and smiled. “Are we there yet?”
Willow turned at the sound of tires crunching in the drive. With Chad’s truck blocking her view, she couldn’t see who was there but Marianne’s voice called to her. “I’m back here, Mom!”
Marianne found her daughter-in-law hanging clothes on the line. Each item from the basket was snapped briskly with a practiced flick of the wrist before another clothes pin appeared from the apron around her waist and attached it to the line. At the sight of a row of cloth pads, she winced inwardly. Willow had a beautiful life on her little farm but that sight killed the romance of it for Marianne. Some things were just too earthy for people like her to handle.
“I brought today’s headline. I thought you’d want to see it for yourself.”
Willow reached for the paper and carried it to the back step. “Sniper Caught,” she read aloud to herself. “On Tuesday afternoon after a state-wide manhunt, the sniper who gunned down a Fairbury police officer on the courthouse steps last Wednesday was apprehended as he tried to leave the country out of O’Hare Airport in Chicago. The authorities credit having a picture at every terminal in every airport in the tri-state area with the success of catching thirty-nine year old Terrance Malcomb. ‘His passport was flawless,’ said airport security chief Dean Tomlin. ‘If we hadn’t had that picture, he’d be out of reach by now.’ Mr. Malcomb is being transported to Rockland to answer charges of the attempted murder of Chadwick Tesdall of the Fairbury police who testified against his wife’s grandmother, Lynne Solari, just minutes before he was shot. A plea bargain is expected.”
She looked up at her mother-in-law. “What does it all mean? I’ve never understood plea bargains.”
“He’ll get a lesser sentence for shooting Chad by testifying against Lynne Solari. With his testimony- especially if she’s the one who paid him to do it, there’s no way they won’t find her guilty.”
“So basically, he gets fewer spankings if he tattles.”
“Well,” Marianne conceded laughing, “that’s one way to put it.”
“Why can’t they just make him talk like they said they would me? Why-”
“The fifth amendment doesn’t allow it. Besides, he’s going to jail anyway. The only incentive they can give him is less time so they do it to ensure that they get the person behind it all.” Even as she spoke, Marianne knew it was fruitless. There was no way that Willow would understand the idea of a reduced sentence for cooperation. Right was right, wrong was wrong, and there was no gray area.
“But this is good, right? I mean, no one is trying to kill him or me or any of us anymore?”
“As far as we know.”
Willow squealed, hugged Marianne, and raced inside calling, “I’ve got to call Chad. Maybe I can come in to see him now.”
Marianne shook her head and reached for another shirt in the basket. She shook it out, attached it to the line, and reached for another. It was a satisfying feeling. The breeze flapped half-dry things around her as she worked and by the time Willow raced outside carrying her purse and calling someone on her phone, Marianne had finished the job. It felt good. It felt very good.
“Mom, can you take me to him? Chad says I can come. They’re going to let him come home tomorrow anyway so I’m staying over night if I can get Ryder to come take care of things.”
“Get your helper out here. I’ll go pack you a bag. You’ll need more than a purse to stay overnight, silly.”
***
Willow asked for directions to Chad’s room two hours later. The nurse at the station eyed her cautiously and then nodded. “You must be Willow. He’s in room 204. I cannot tell you how glad we are that you’re here.”
“Why?”
“Because your husband is driving us all nuts. He’s just cranky enough to make us want to kill him and charming enough to make it impossible. How do you live with that man?”
She shrugged, asked for help in finding 204 again, and this time the nurse understood her and pointed to the correct corridor. “On the right. Two doors down.”
The curtain was drawn around Chad’s bed and some woman on TV interviewed a college student caught writing papers for half the campus at an Oregon university. “Chad?”
“Oh you’re finally here. I thought Mom must have decided to push the car here.”
“The nurse was right.”
“How’s that?”
Willow’s grin was wicked. “You are grumpy.”
“I’ve hardly seen you for a whole week. What do you expect?”
Willow’s eyes filled with tears of relief. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been-” she hesitated. “Lonely.”
“Aww lass, I missed you too. We’ll be home tomorrow. It’s going to be back to normal.” Chad’s eyes drooped sleepily. “I think they’ve got me on some kind of sleeping meds. I keep falling asleep.”
“Rest Chad. I’ll go find something to eat. I skipped lunch getting ready to come here.” She didn’t want to go. The idea of leaving him just as she got there bothered her but he obviously needed sleep.
“Just don’t stay away too long. You smell like home. I want to go home.”
Outside the door, Willow leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Chad looked terrible. His normally tan skin tone looked jaundiced and pale. The strength in his voice was gone and she could see he pain in his eyes. It was time to get him home in good air with good food and uninterrupted sleep. Willow remembered how little she’d slept during her hospital stay.
“Mrs. Tesdall? Willow?”
She forced her eyelids upward and met the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. “Yes?”
“I’m Dr. Shaiver. I’m very glad to see you here. We tried to get Chad to let you come but he didn’t think it was wise.”
“I think he’s crazy. My grandmother isn’t out to kill me. I’m not a threat but Chad sees it differently.”
“Well, having you here will probably help his recovery immensely. He’s been quite down.” The doctor’s smile was just as sympathetic as his eyes were kind.
“Well, I think once I get him home tomorrow, he’ll do better.”
“I’m afraid not.” Regret filled Dr. Shaiver’s voice. ”I just got the x-rays back. His lungs are trying to fill with fluid and his hand has a displaced bone. We’re not sure how that happened but it has to be corrected.”
Something in the doctor’s tone bothered Willow. “Can you tell me if I should be concerned about him? Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s not doing as well as I hoped for. I want to blame it on his checking himself out early but I think that just set him back a bit. I don’t think it actually caused him any further injury.” He rested his hand on her arm comfortingly. “I truly think it would be best if you could stay. His concern for you and how much he misses you is impeding his progress, without a doubt.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
Dr. Shaiver turned to answer a page and then did an abrupt about face. “That man sure loves you.”
***
Willow spent the next hour arranging for Ryder and Caleb to take over the farm while she was gone. Todd Blankenship agreed to stay there to keep Portia company and learn how to do things to help out the boys as well as shuttle Willow back and forth every couple of days. By the time Chad awoke, it was all arranged.
“So, he wakes.”
“Oh lass, I thought I’d dreamed it. I’m so glad you’re here.”
The doctor’s last words filled her mind once again. An unfamiliar warmth flooded her heart as she remembered the hours he’d sat with her in the same hospital, the work he’d done on his few free hours in order to ensure her crops weren’t wasted, and the way he’d come back, against her wishes, in order to be a friend to someone who had been so ungrateful as to push him away. It was amazing and terrifying all in one. The pressure in her chest felt wonderfully smothering. She couldn’t breathe but was so happy, she truly didn’t care. Chad loved her.
Tears spilled from her eyes as emotion overflowed and spilled onto her cheeks. An overwhelming sense of love and affection welled inside her as she realized that he’d loved her long before he knew or admitted it to himself. Willow brushed away silly tears as the realization struck her that she too loved her husband just as any husband should be loved by the one whom they promise to cherish for the rest of their lives.
“I’m in love,” she whispered. “Wow.”
***
Chad stirred. A weight on his uninjured hand felt odd and he started to struggle but the weight moved. One eye crept open and then a smile broke over his face. The bed rail was down, a stool was pushed up next to the bed, and Willow half laid over him holding his hand in both of hers as she slept.
Clumsily, he stroked her hair with his bandaged hand. He slowly shifted to lay on his ‘good’ side and watched her face as she slept. The stirring of her hair gave him occasional whiffs of lavender making him want home more than ever. The past week had been packed with surgeries, nurses interruptions, a constant flow of visitors, and he was exhausted from all of it. All he wanted was to go home, curl up in his own bed, and sleep for a month.
Willow looked so young to him. How was it that someone so confident, so wise, could look like a child when she slept? Every second that passed felt like a pound lifted from him just having her there. Nothing would help him more than having Willow looking out for him.
“Hey,” he whispered as one eye opened. “I fell asleep on you. I’m sorry.”
“You needed your rest.” A sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed her and tears flowed again.
“Hey, hey, shh… what’s wrong lass?”
Willow tried to fight back the tears but every attempt was swallowed by a fresh burst of weeping. Her shoulders shook, deep wracking sobs erupted sending Chad into a confused panic and his attempts to soothe her only made it worse. “I’m sorry- I don’t know-”
“Shh… it’s ok. It’s going to be fine.”
“I missed you-” her words were cut off by yet another round of weeping. She hadn’t cried so thoroughly since the full impact of her mother’s death hit her last summer but these were good tears. Tears of joy, relief, and love for someone infinitely beloved had now replaced the deep grief that came with the loss of the only other person she’d ever truly loved.
Not knowing what else to say, Chad soothed her and whispered, “Just cry it out Willow. You’ll feel better. I’m so sorry-”
“No, I’m not sad!” The sobs made her words sound ludicrous and she snorted a chuckle before collapsing once more. Tears soaked the bed, his hand, and her arm until Chad reached for a Kleenex and stuffed it under the mound of hair that now hid her face from him.
“Aww lass, what is it?”
Several minutes passed. A nurse passing by stepped in to see what was wrong but Chad sent her out without a word. Still, the torrent of tears continued unabated until she finally sobbed all of the unfamiliar and overpowering emotions into manageable feelings.
Finally she held her hand out for a fresh wad of Kleenex and raised her head. “I’m sorry. How silly of me.”
“Are you ok?” Chad’s hand cupped her face tenderly and tried to read some reason for her meltdown in her expression.
“I was just so happy to see you again. I missed you more than I realized.” She kissed his hand absently as she spoke and then blushed feeling foolish.
“I don’t understand-”
“I’m beginning to- finally,” she admitted more to herself than Chad.
“Care to share?”
Willow smiled into Chad’s eyes, kissed him, and then whispered, “I love you.”
Ok, so most authors like to hear their books are hitting the news stands but I’ll take what I can get! I shipped my first baby to its first new home today and I even took pictures for posterity.
There you have it!
I’m off to go buy the 80 copies that I need so that others can get their books ASAP! If you’ve ordered, they’re on their way!
As Chad climbed carefully and slowly from his truck, Willow skipped down the steps, forgetful of the camisole and shorts that while cool and comfortable, covered little. He watched her hurry toward him and laughed as she raced to hug him. When she realized how little she wore, she’d be mortified.
Unexpectedly, she flung herself into his arms kissing his cheek. “I missed you! I can’t believe how much I missed you. I mope-” His sharp intake of breath and the way he clung to her stopped her mid-thought. “What?”
“Just help me inside lass. I’ve got quite a story to tell you but I need some water and my head is feeling fuzzy.”
“Chad! You’re really-” His wince as she wrapped her arm around his back stopped her. “Is there anywhere I can touch you?” The moon moved from behind a cloud lighting Chad’s face. “What happened to you! Your mother just said that you’d been detained.”
“That’s all I let her say. Get me inside and ignore my pain willya.”
Willow brought him pillows, a glass of water, and remembering how much he liked Sprite when he was sick, she hurried out to the summer kitchen where she’d stashed a few cans the last time she’d been at the store. He laughed as she chipped ice off the ice box block and brought him a glass of icy cold Sprite.
“I knew I’d be better off at home. In the truck, there’s a plastic bag on the floorboard. I need the bottle in it please.” To Willow’s eyes, he looked horrible as he clenched his hand tightly around the end of a pillow as though holding on for dear life.
Willow found the bag and a stack of discharge papers that looked similar to the ones she’d brought home from the hospital the previous summer. With both in hand, she hurried inside opening the bottle of pain killers as she did. She read the instructions carefully and then handed him one tablet. “It says take with water.”
Already, Chad missed the PCA and his steady supply of morphine as needed. Regardless of his careful attempts to use it as little as humanly possible, it had kept the worst of the pain at bay. He swallowed his pill and dutifully drank the water she shoved at him before sinking back into the pillows exhausted.
“I really didn’t think it’d be that hard to drive home. The traffic wasn’t anything to speak of, the highway was reasonably empty- I don’t know why I’m so beat.”
Willow bit her lip. She wanted to demand that he tell her what happened and why his face held several stitches, one close to the corner of his eye. However, the memory of his wince as she’d hugged him, the pain etched in his face, and the bandaged hand that had a tinge of fresh blood near the thumb stopped her. She’d have to learn a little patience.
“Where are the questions, lass? I’ve been waiting for you to pounce.”
“I thought you might like to rest. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. I don’t want to be a pest or worse, that dripping wife of Proverbs.”
He found her hand with his good one, squeezing it gently and then reaching carefully to pull her closer to him. “Ahh Willow, but that’s what I love about you. Yes, you drive me crazy sometimes but I love that you’re just you. What you see is what you get. There’s no guessing if you’re seething inside or miserable, because you let it all out and I like that.”
“Even when I get stubborn and refuse to do things everyone else’s way just because it’s everyone else’s way? I seem to remember school being an issue, wedding choices being problems, and-”
“Even then. It’s what makes you, you. You could be less obstinate about things perhaps, I won’t complain about that, but I’d miss your input if you quit giving it- or demanding it.” He winked at her over the top of her head.
“So,” Willow began now unable to contain her curiosity any longer. “Just what happened?”
“Well, first of all, I know who told that reporter about Steve Solari.”
“Robert Beiler? Who?”
Chad nodded toying with Willow’s braid as he talked and praying that the horrible throbbing in his hand would go away. “Lynne Solari herself. Robert mentioned something about an ME with the corner’s office who kept an eye out for certain names and your mom’s was one. So, they did some digging, found the ME and from what we can put together, Lynne knew about the rape before Steve. She either didn’t tell Steve Jr. what she knew or they made the plan together for him to go to his father and ‘hide’ it from Lynne.” He wondered if he should add the latest information he’d heard from the A.D.A. “There is an evidence trail that is inching in the direction of Lynne being the one to order the hit on Steve Jr.”
“She killed her own son?”
“Not right away of course, but when he just got worse and worse, it is interesting that he dies in a knife fight when Steve Jr. had never owned any kind of weapon. He liked his fists.”
The expression on Willow’s face was unreadable. He watched the emotions and thoughts flit through her eyes, glide over her cheeks, and settle around her lips in an ambiguous twist. “He certainly used them on Mother.”
“I thought I read about bruising so I assumed…”
“I saw the pictures she took of herself. They’re horrible.”
Chad was at an absolute loss for words. No where in Kari’s journals had there ever been a mention of pictures. “I didn’t know about the pictures.”
“I saw them once as a child. They’re in the attic in a box of papers in a sealed envelope. I was looking for some kind of picture of grandparents or aunts and uncles- I wanted to know more and Mother had no more to share so I spent an afternoon when she was in town going through all of the boxes I could find.”
“What did you find?”
Sadness laced her voice. “Those pictures. Once I found them, I put them away and quit looking. If that was the kind of thing I was going to find, I didn’t want to know. I understood why she’d chosen our life and I think that was the day I fully embraced it for myself.” She took a deep breath exhaling slowly. “I’d always loved our life but seeing that made me reject the outside world much as Mother already had.”
“But you didn’t- You asked us to come back and on that very first day. How-”
Her hand crept up by her neck where he toyed with her braid and curled it around his fingers. “I don’t really know. I just saw you three going out the door and felt so terribly alone. You were all so nice to me. It seemed like maybe the police were safe.” A sob caught in her throat. “In just a brief few seconds, I imagined day after day without hearing another person’s voice, without ever getting a hug or laughing with someone, and I panicked.”
“Aww lass. Make a guy feel guilty why don’t you. When I think how I resented you…”
“Well, to be a deliberate pest then, what happened to you. I’m trying to be patient but if you could see yourself-”
“I have. I look like Frankenstein.” He tried to remember the days that blurred together in his mind. “Wednesday at around two o’clock they let me out. You’d rang just as I left the building. When I got away from reporters, I pulled out my phone and just at that instant, a bullet came from across the street, went through the phone, and then through me.”
“So you fell and scraped yourself up?” Her face was turned to Chad’s looking at the scratches and stitches that made him look like he’d been attacked by a weed-whacker.
“No, the phone. It shattered on impact sending melting pieces of plastic flying into my hand, my face, my neck…”
She glanced at his hand concern etched in her features. “How bad is your hand?”
“I’ll be learning to shoot with my left hand most likely. I’ve got at least one or two more surgeries on it coming.”
“Why did they let you come home if they have to do more work.”
Chad had the grace to blush. “Actually, they didn’t. I checked myself out AMA.”
“AMA?”
“Against medical advice. I needed to get home.” He felt her stiffen.
“Wait- they didn’t want you to leave?”
“No. I’ve got instructions for getting to a hospital and when. I’ll be fine but I just really needed to see you and make sure you knew I was ok.”
She struggled from his grasp and climbed the stairs without any kind of response. In the bathroom, she washed and dried her face, all the while praying for a balance between her desire to blast him and respect for his right to make his own decisions. She needed to hurry back down and have the right thing to say… she looked at herself n the mirror and groaned. She’d go back down after she found something to cover herself with.
Chad laughed as she came back down the stairs wearing a summer robe and trying not to look as thoroughly embarrassed as she was. ”I wondered how long it’d take you to figure it out.”
She started to take a seat on the other couch so he could stretch out but he motioned her back to him. “Come on, I’ve been gone forever.” Once she curled against him again he whispered, “And you didn’t need to put that on. You looked just fine-”
“I bet I did. I’ll put it back on next time I walk to town.”
“Over my dead body.”
The conversation switched subjects with that line. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Instinctively, he knew what she referred to and followed the change easily. “I had to get back to you lass. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“And you think I’m not going to worry about you as you lay here when you need medical attention that I can’t give you? What happens if something goes wrong? I don’t know how to drive. It’s a fifteen minute round trip- minimum, if I call an ambulance, and who knows if the clinic can help you or if you’ll need a rush trip to Rockland. I can’t believe you did this to me!”
A weak but definite edge of anger entered Chad’s tone. “To you? I did this for you. I imagined you here-”
Frustrated, she jumped up and spun to face him. “You want to do something for me? Fine. Get back to the hospital until they think it’s safe for you to leave.” Tears filled her eyes. “I cannot lose you. I’m not ready for that. I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”
“Willow-”
“This is horrible. You came home and I was so excited to see you. My stomach got all floppy on me and I felt so happy and now I’m just sick. You’re going to get yourself killed. You’re going to let her win!”
“Willow,” Chad began again. “If I went back, you’d have to stay here. You can’t go near Rockland until the trial is over.”
This was it. She needed to make her point and then drop it but her natural desire for her own way made her fight for the exact words that would make him listen to her and return to the hospital. “Chad, you said you wanted me to tell you what I think so here’s what I think. I think that for someone who has harped on how selfish I am about stuff, you’ve topped it all. I stayed in that hospital, against my own preference, I went to those stupid physical therapy sessions because you insisted they were best for me. I think it’s time you listen to your own advice and get back where you kept me and for a much less serious injury.”
“Um lass?” Chad’s voice sounded weak and confused.
“What?” She instantly regretted the snap in her response.
“Can you call Todd and get him to come back? I think you’re right and I’d almost kill for more morphine right now.”
“Under on condition.”
“Anything.”
She retrieved her phone before replying, “You call me this time?”
“I’ll call. I didn’t want you to hear the pages for doctors…” It was as though knowing he was returning took all of his remaining strength.
Willow punched the numbers he gave her and waited for Todd to answer. “Hey, this is Willow. I have a husband who is ready to return to the hospital.”
“I thought you would. I’m parked at the end of the driveway. I’ll be right there.” The laughter in Todd’s voice made her smile as she snapped the phone shut.
“He’s coming up the drive as we speak.”
Chad grinned wanly. “Come here then…”
Upon further information regarding Chad’s accident, I now know my original idea of his injuries was much more accurate than I gave myself credit for.
Therefore, I’ll be going back and adding in much more serious injuries to his hand, face, and arm as well as a broken rib. Furthermore, he stayed an extra night so both chapters 115 and 116 will have to reflect that. I’m just making notations in the manuscript at this time and will add that info when it comes time to edit.
Sorry about the confusion but I erred on the side of underestimating damage rather than overestimating and I think it was best but now that I know what I know, it’s time to make it more accurate.
The first witness in the trial was Robert Beiler of the Rockland Chronicle. Chad felt his hands tighten into fists as the man took the stand, swore to tell the truth, and took his seat. He described his meeting with Steven Solari as an awkward tense riddled conversation where he’d been drilled for information. “I couldn’t tell where I’d learned about who Miss Finley’s-” he glanced in Chad’s direction. “I mean Mrs. Tesdall’s father was. I thought he’d see right through me but he seemed satisfied.”
“And why,” the prosecutor continued, “couldn’t you tell him?”
“Because Mrs. Solari told me I couldn’t. She gave me the information on Willow Finley.”
Robert went on to describe a meeting with Lynn Solari where the woman gave all the information necessary to write his article. “She’d discovered Willow’s existence through some contact with the ME’s office. Finley was a name she had flagged.”
“Are you saying that Lynne Solari paid someone in the coroner’s office to let her know if anyone by the name of Finley came through?”
“That’s what she said. The way she said it implied that Finley was one of many names but-”
“Objection, assuming facts not in evidence.” The defense attorney rarely spoke. He seemed to hardly pay attention much less bother to object to any line of questioning.
“Can you tell us what she said exactly?”
“No,” Robert began, “But almost. She said, ‘I have a contact at the ME’s office who lets me know when someone comes through that I am interested in. I never expected to hear Finley but she came through in May.’ It wasn’t those exact words in that order but really close to them and the exact meaning.”
Chad was dumbstruck. Of all the scenarios he’d run through his mind, Lynne wasn’t even in the running. She’d left them with the impression that she knew nothing of Steve’s payoff or Kari Finley at all. This testimony implied otherwise. He missed the final questions as his mind whirled with possibilities.
“I call Officer Chadwick Tesdall to the stand.”
The first questions were simple. His name, occupation, how he met Willow, and finally when he’d met Lynne Solari. Chad felt the phone vibrate in his pocket but he ignored it as he answered the question. “That is correct. She’d disabled her own car in order to have an excuse to come to the house.”
The defense attorney in a bored tone said, “Objection, conjecture.”
“Is it conjecture if she admitted it to us?” Chad was clearly stating the information rather than asking his question.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and glanced at the name on the screen. Willow. Thankful they hadn’t confiscated phones, he slipped it back in and answered the next question. “She said it was because she’d seen the article in the paper.”
Agonizingly slowly, he answered all of the prosecutor’s questions, endured a rigorous cross-examination, and then sighed in relief as he was excused. His phone vibrated again just as a crowd of reporters surrounded him and he impatiently shoved it back into his pocket as he hurried down the courthouse steps. The last thing he wanted to do is let Willow hear the questions fired at him one after another.
The next few minutes were a blur. The A.D.A. left the building seconds after Chad sending the flock of reporters away from him. He reached for his cell phone to call his wife and watched it shatter as a bullet ripped through it before tearing through is body. Fire. His hand felt as though it was on fire. As he fought waves of nausea from the pain, he stared at the pieces of his phone and then crumpled to the steps.
People screamed. The A.D.A. dove for cover and whipped out her cell phone to call for help while a court officer raced to Chad’s assistance. Pandemonium reigned but Chad was unaware of his surroundings. The burning in his chest and hand made it impossible to think or concentrate. He felt sweat trickle down his face in several places and wiped it away. His hand, streaked with blood, told him that his face was cut- probably in several places.
By the time the ambulance arrived, the entire courthouse was cordoned off and police were crawling everywhere. As the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance, Chad insisted on speaking to the A.D.A. “Tell her… do not call my wife.”
“Man, she’s gonna-”
“Do not call Willow. We have a good lawyer. I’ll use her.”
***
“Mr. Tesdall?” The face above Chad’s head swayed drunkenly.
“Have you been drinking sir?” Chad’s voice sounded strange to his own ears.
“No, but you’ve been medicated.”
He struggled to sit up and then sank back against the pillows. “I was shot. I can’t believe I was shot. I remember now.”
“It was a through and through. Somehow it missed your heart, and arteries but it did pierce the lungs, break a rib, and your hand took the full impact of the phone. I’ve never seen one like it.”
As the doctor explained his injuries, Chad struggled to remember something he needed to ask. “Did anyone call my wife?”
“I knew the EMT got it wrong. He said you refused.”
“I did. So no one called?”
The doctor nodded eyeing Chad curiously. “Mind telling me why you don’t want her to know? You can’t hide an injury like this.”
“I have an unusual wife. She’d rather hear it from me. Just trust me on that. I need to speak to my parents immediately. If they see it on the news they’ll call and-”
The longer Chad spoke, the more clear his thinking became. “Man what do you have me on?”
“Your PCA has morphine if you need a boost.”
“I have to avoid it as much as possible. I need to be able to drive tomorrow.”
“Well, you’re not going anywhere tomorrow. The surgeon has more work to do on that hand and we can’t risk infection or pneumonia. The EMT managed to prevent a pneum- um collapsed lung.”
Chad wanted to ask more questions but drowsiness overtook him and before he could speak, he slept.
***
The pain was excruciating. He stared at the little button that could help alleviate some of the misery he was in and hesitated. Which was better- keeping off the medication so he could drive sooner or ensuring that he stayed on top of it long enough to heal enough to be able to drive in the first place. For the first time, Chad was grateful that they’d talked him out of the manual transmission. With his throbbing bandaged hand, there was no way he’d be able to operate a gearshift.
A nurse entered the room. “So, we’re awake. Time for some pain medication?”
“I can’t decide which is better, less so its out of my system sooner, or more so that I don’t get overwhelmed.”
“Use the PCA. You can wait until you think it’ll override you but if your body has to fight pain and fight infection, it’ll take you longer to heal.”
With the next level of pain, Chad pushed the button. Twice. The clock said two-thirty. In seven hours his parents would arrive and by then, perhaps he’d feel better. He had to get sleep to heal. The phone next to his bed taunted him. She’d answer even at this time of night and though Willow wouldn’t worry, she would be confused.
He slowly awoke to the sounds of whispering and the feeling of losing all blood flow to his arm. “He’s been sleeping since I got on shift,” a masculine voice whispered. “The chart says he’s checking himself out after his next surgery even if it is AMA.”
“AMA?” The voice belonged to his mother.
“Against medical advice.”
“Probably has something to do with why he didn’t want us to call Willow, Marianne.” Pop always knew how his mind worked even if he didn’t understand why it worked that way.
A few minutes later, the sound of retreating footsteps and the continued whispers of his parents jarred him back to consciousness. “Is he worried about her safety do you think?”
Pop’s voice sounded strained as he tried to reassure his mom. “It’s possible. Maybe he doesn’t want to lead someone out there but I’d think it’d be less safe with her out there alone.”
“She has a gun and she did take down the last person who tried to hurt her…”
Chad fought to speak, his eyes still unwilling to open. “She’ll want to come in if she knows. Coming in is a sure way to stress her out. She isn’t handling this trial very well. I tried to get her to come and stay at the hotel- make it fun, you know? She didn’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“But when you don’t call son-”
“Mom, she’ll just think my battery died or something. She’ll wonder, but she won’t really worry. I could be wrong but I don’t think so. And Dad’s right, we need to keep her out of town. If that shot was a trap to lure her into town by someone who doesn’t know where we live, I don’t want to risk it.”
Marianne’s eyes widened. “Do you really think that’s even possible?”
“Why aim for my heart instead of my head? I don’t understand it unless he just wanted to take me out of testifying for now or if it was all bait.”
“Maybe it wasn’t either of those. Maybe it was a warning to others who are on the witness list.”
Christopher’s point was something Chad hadn’t considered. “It’s possible. I really don’t know. I don’t want her out there alone but I think I trust her more to take care of herself out there than I trust her ability to do it in town.”
“So you’re going to go home tomorrow regardless of how you feel?”
“After the surgery, once the anesthesia and meds are out of my system-”
“But what about getting well!” Marianne’s voice grew louder with each word.
“I’ll go to the clinic in Fairbury at the first sign of anything off. They have a few overnight rooms even. I have to get home.”
“You could call. Tell her the trial is taking more from you than you expected. Tell her your phone isn’t working but you’ll be home tomorrow and everything will be just fine.”
“I’m not going to lie mom.”
“Chad,” Marianne protested quickly, “I didn’t mean for you to lie. All of that is true- it’s just ambiguous enough to keep her from worrying and to keep you in this bed.”
“Your mother has a point. Resting that lung-” The doctor stopped himself abruptly as Chad struggled to sit upright.
“If I called, I’d tell her everything. But if you called-”
“What do you want me to say?”
***
Thursday afternoon, a detective arrived to take his statement regarding the shooting. “Officer Tesdall?”
Chad turned and glanced up at the detective expectantly. “Yes?”
“I’m detective Haunsel with the Rockland PD. I have some questions if you’re up to it.”
“I now understand, in a way I never could before, why victims and witnesses are so unreliable. I didn’t see it coming. I can only imagine that you found through the trajectory where the sniper was…”
“We found it. We found the guy on video…” The detective pulled out glossy eight by ten print outs of the building across the street, the fourth floor, and almost a full shot of a man’s face. “Do any of these look familiar to you?”
Carefully, Chad examined each one clearly. Finally, he shoved them across his legs. “I don’t trust my memory on this. He looks familiar but I could have seen him or someone that resembles him, anywhere.” A thought occurred to him. “Have you checked cameras from inside the courthouse? Was he in the courtroom?”
“They’re still going those tapes. Can you tell us why he chose you?”
“I can only assume that it has something to do with my testimony… maybe he thought I was coming back after the recess but I wasn’t. I was excused.”
Detective Haunsel nodded thoughtfully. “What does the doctor say?”
“Gonna have to learn to shoot with my other hand. Even if they get this thing fully functional,” Chad waved his bandaged hand impatiently, “they say the muscles won’t be completely reliable. It’ll always be a little stiff.”
“Ouch. Tough luck… at least you live in Fairbury. You probably haven’t drawn your gun since you’ve worked there.”
Chad hated the implication that work in Fairbury wasn’t real. “I want to know that the next time a stalker breaks into my house to terrorize my wife, I’ll be able to pull the trigger before he does. Sorry if that ruins your Mayberry ideal of Fairbury but between the Plagiarist Killer and the Solari influence, we’ve had more crime in Fairbury in the past two years than the town has had in the past fifty. Rockland is encroaching and I want to be able to do my part to push it back. We don’t want your crime.”
***
Marianne watched as they wheeled her son into surgery and wondered just how successful it would be. Christopher jogged up to her side. “Sorry I’m late. What’s going on?”
“They just wheeled him in. The surgeon talked to me while they were taking him in. He’s confident it’ll be successful but the degree of success is what is in question.”
Christopher sank into a nearby chair. “My son- all he ever wanted to do was be a cop and now-”
Chad’s mother wrapped her arms around her husband and hushed him. “He’ll shoot with his other hand. He’ll be fine.”
“I think it just hit me. My son was shot. A man took careful aim and shot him and if Chad hadn’t moved at just the right moment, he probably would be dead.”
***
“So how long until everything is out of my system? How soon before I am chemically safe to drive?”
Sunday morning, Chad bombarded the doctor with questions as he inspected Chad’s sutures, chart, and checked the wound in Chad’s chest. He’d fought the use of the PCA as much as possible but the throbbing had kept him awake most of the night until he’d given in and allowed himself a few hours of pain relief. His goal was to leave that night.
“You’re determined to leave tonight then?”
Chad nodded. “I have to get home. I know I’ll have to sign but I need to get home.”
The doctor called the nurse to rewrap Chad’s hand and said goodbye. “I’ll leave care instructions with the nurses. Try to stay as long as possible. The longer you’re here, the more likely a problem happens here than at home.” He hesitated. “Will you promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“If you relapse at all the rest of today, will you please reconsider and stay another night?”
Chad nodded. “I’m not trying to get myself killed-” he winked at his mother. “Contrary to popular belief.”
With the doctor gone, Chad tried to apologize for worrying his mother but he didn’t get far. “I understand Chaddie. I do. I want to help but I couldn’t live with myself if-”
“It’s ok mom. Really. Can you do something for me though?” He knew the only way his mother would quit worrying was if she had a way to help him.
“I’d need clothes whether I left right now or next week. Can you bring me sweats and a buttoned down shirt?”
“That’s kind of a strange combination, son.”
Chad grinned. “I’m a fashion mystery. Ok, so maybe I just want something easy to get on and off again.”
***
At five o’clock, Todd arrived with a bag of clothes from Chad’s mother. “Hey man, how are you feeling?”
“Miserable but I’ll do.”
“You sure you want to leave?”
Groaning, Chad made a slicing motion across his neck. “Not you too…”
“I had to ask! Your mom wouldn’t give me these clothes until I promised to follow you home. I won’t come up to the house or anything but I will follow to the drive.”
“Thanks. I thought about asking but decided I was being paranoid. Everyone around here seems to be operating under the delusion that I want to leave.” Chad’s voice sounded weary.
“Did you take some acetaminophen at four?”
“Four-thirty. I’ll pull over at the rest stop for a refill or just take them a bit early.”
Todd nodded and pulled out the latest Grisham novel. “I’ll read. You sleep.”
“What, no Hartfield? I’m crushed.”
“I’ve read ‘em all.”
Chad grinned and tried to roll onto his side. “Seven-thirty. No later.”
Todd acted as a guard for the next two and a half hours. The nurses came in to check him, offer him medication, and bring dinner but Todd shooed them back out insisting that they would be responsible for Chad’s relapse if they didn’t let him sleep. The doctor arrived just as Todd shook Chad awake.
“It’s time to get up, man. Gotta get on the road.”
He tried to respond but the doctor interrupted. “Still determined to leave?”
“Have to. I’m sorry.”
“Let’s check your temperature.” Ignoring the nurse who stood ready to do her job, the doctor checked all vital signs, inspected Chad’s wounds, and helped Chad out of bed watching him walk around the room. “Well, I’d be more comfortable with another night or three but as long as you keep a close eye on the wounds and your temperature, unofficially speaking, you should be good. I can’t release you though. Liability and all.”
“I understand. Give me the forms or whatever and let’s get this show on the road.”
It took Chad longer to dress to leave the hospital than he’d ever spent getting ready for anything. As much as he despised flip-flops, he was grateful that his mother had considered the easiest thing to put on his feet and sent them. Todd drove Chad to his truck and they swiftly left the city, each keeping an eye out for anyone who might be following, and drove toward Fairbury.
The temptation to speed had rarely been stronger. By the time he was out of the city and onto the highway, Chad was ready to lie back down and go to sleep. As he passed the rest stop, Chad struggled to open the packet of Tylenol and failed. He pulled over, wrenched it open wincing at the sharp pain it send through his chest, coughed, and downed the pills before Todd could reach his side.
“You ok, man?” Todd had his door open before he could nod.
“I’m fine! I just couldn’t get the packet open without pulling over.”
“Well, if you hadn’t had your phone shot into you, you could have called.”
Chad groaned. “Oh man, I’m going to need a new phone.”
“I’ll take care of it. Just get me your info and I’ll go in. I’ll come out on Monday with it. You can’t leave the house again before then anyway.”
By the time thy entered Fairbury, Chad was shaking with exhaustion. Each mile from Fairbury to home seemed like ten. He flashed his lights at Todd just before he turned into the driveway and then let the truck coast down the first part of the drive until it reached the climb up into the yard.
Willow sat in the porch swing as she did on so many nights. The familiarity of her trysts with the Lord in the dark made his heart ache. Home. He was finally home and his wife was just fine.
The trees swayed in the breeze as the morning crawled by. Willow leaned against her favorite tree, held her fishing pole, and wished Chad was with her. She had work to do but was so distracted that she’d given up after uprooting too many undersized plants instead of weeds. Instead, she’d grabbed her tackle box, her fishing pole, bucket, lunch, and took off for her favorite fishing spot.
She flipped open her cell phone. Nine forty-five. Court was in session. Willow tried to remember how to send a text message but her unsettled mind made her fumble until she gave up in disgust. Lynne Solari faced the death penalty and Chad’s testimony would likely be several nails in that coffin. She’d always believed in capital punishment but the idea of putting someone to death and ending their chance at salvation was repugnant to her.
The look on Chad’s face when she’d said it still hovered in her memory. “Willow, she has had forty or fifty years of opportunities. It isn’t like we killed her before she had a chance to consider her actions. We don’t deserve a chance at salvation- we’re given one and most of us throw it away.” His words made sense, she understood them, but her heart constricted at the idea that man killed to avenge murder and in the process, stripped who knew how many years of opportunities to hear and learn.
The fish weren’t biting to her immense relief. Willow didn’t really want to catch any but at least fishing absolved some of the guilt of a wasted day. She flipped open the phone and forced herself to concentrate on how to send a message. Finally, she sent two short sentences. “Praying for you. Miss you.”
The sun was too far on the side of the west before she realized she’d forgotten to eat. She munched on her sandwich and stared at the cell phone. He hadn’t called. Court recessed for lunch over two hours earlier but he hadn’t returned her call. She tried again but no answer. The phone said it was after four in the afternoon. He should be home in an hour or two unless they wanted him for tomorrow and at that point, he would get a hotel room.
She stood, put away her gear, gathered her things, and trudged back toward home. Every step seemed farther from home than the previous one but eventually she stashed her things in the barn and put a pan of water on the stove to boil. It was early but she just felt like getting the work done and out of the way.
Every minute that she raked, milked, fed, and watered, she prayed and felt lonelier than she’d felt since those horrible days after her mother’s death. Chad had accustomed her to companionship again and not hearing from him hurt. As she finished, she wandered with Portia out to the tree by her mother’s grave and sat curled there, her phone open in the grass and waited to hear.
“He’s testifying against that family Mother. We have an advocate. Well, I know we’ve always had the Advocate but we have a nice human one too. He’s very good to us- works so hard to help make everything here run smoothly.” Willow dropped her head to her knees. “He loves me Mother. Not just cares about me like he does about his sister. Not anymore. He loves me. Sometimes I feel like I’m failing him that way but he doesn’t seem to be upset.”
Cars whizzed by, Portia chased the sticks she threw, and the sun sank slowly toward the horizon. Still Willow sat and thought, prayed, and rambled to her mother about everything from the state of the garden to the progress she was making on spinning. She jumped to her feet and called Portia to her side.
“Girl, I’m being immature. I don’t care if he’s gone all day working and then helping someone, off to see his mom, or Todd but being stuck in Rockland with that trial and I act like it’s the end of the world. I’m going to make some dinner, turn on that movie on the laptop, bring in the charger since I’ve run this battery down, and spin until I’m exhausted. There’s a storm coming. It sounds cozy.”
Suddenly, she felt energized. She heated soup, made a salad and another sandwich, flipped on the house electricity, and set up her movie. Eagerly she raced to the barn for the phone charger and carefully plugged it into the kitchen outlet where she could hear it. With everything ready, she clicked the play button on the laptop, sat at the spinning wheel, and began the slow steady treadle as she worked to get her rhythm.
The wool twisted into a thin cord and eventually she managed to keep it reasonably even. There was something extremely satisfying about spinning as she watched the mill workers in the old cotton mills of northern England. The first raindrops hit the windows as she finished the first bobbin.
Thunder flashed, the wind picked up and rattled the windows but she continued to spin and watch almost unaware of the storm raging outside. Eventually, her calf muscle protested. It seemed to take longer each time she sat at the wheel and a call to her physical therapist had assured her that she should push it until it threatened to go from sore to painful and then stop. Pain had already arrived.
Disappointed, Willow turned up the volume on the movie and moved the spinning wheel back into the corner by the chaise and limped back to the couch. Her muscle cream was upstairs in the bathroom and the idea of climbing the stairs frustrated her. Perhaps she should just go to bed. There was no way she’d come back down and then return to bed. She’d fall asleep on the couch and wake up stiff and cramped.
A new idea occurred to her, making Willow feel ridiculously modern and decadent. She grabbed the laptop and cord, crawled up the stairs, plugged it into the outlet behind Chad’s bed table and sat it on his side of the bed. Excitedly, she brushed her teeth, re-braided her hair, and grabbed the muscle cream before crawling into bed and restarting the movie. Movies in bed. What would Mother think?
***
It was still pouring the next morning. The thunder and lightning were gone but in their place was a steady rain that the farms nearby needed but Willow dreaded. Work was always so messy in the rain and usually meant the need for scrubbing floors. The one job she truly hated was scrubbing floors. She’d scrub the toilet, wash walls and windows, or beat carpets but floors were her nemesis.
Ditto protested her stall in the barn but Willow was unmoved regardless of several attempts to butt her out of the way. The chickens protested as well but Willow opened side panels to allow fresh air and left the birds in the dry coop. Nothing was more pathetic looking to her than a drenched chicken. The sheep and cow had plenty of fresh rainwater and seemed uninterested in crossing the pasture to say hi, much to Willow’s relief.
A new thought occurred to her as she stepped up on the porch. She did not want to drip muddy water all over the house as she entered. She did not want to scrub those floors. No one was home, there was no reason not to simply drop her clothing out the back door and take it to the barn that evening. Just to be certain that no one had arrived while she wasn’t looking, Willow walked around to the front of the house, nodded in satisfaction, and hurried to the back porch again.
Giggling gleefully, she raced through the house, upstairs, into her room and grabbed her most comfortable shorts and halter top. Even with the rain, it was very warm and her favorite cool clothes sounded like the epitome of comfort. She stood for an indecent amount of time in the shower allowing the hot water to pound her muscles and then slowly turned it to cold to cool her off again.
Before she hurried downstairs to make herself something for breakfast, Willow grabbed a wrap dress she’d made the previous summer. Now that Chad lived there, people stopped by sometimes. Not often, but how embarrassing it would be to be caught running around in clothes that covered so little. It was one thing for her to wear them for herself or even while Chad was sleeping but quite another when others were around. The dress would look lumpy but she’d be covered.
She remembered a wedding gift that Marianne had been so excited about. “Just put your meat and vegetables in it, add a little water, turn it on low, and let it cook all day. It’s perfect for hot summers in your house.”
At the back of the pantry on the top right corner shelf, she pulled down her four and a half quart crock-pot and carried it to the kitchen counter. Carefully, she slit the tape open and pulled the appliance from its protective Styrofoam blocks. An instruction manual sent her to the chaise as she read every word before trying to use it.
She stepped onto the back porch to take it to the summer kitchen and paused. The yard was full of mud she’d be drenched and filthy by the time she got back to the house. The sight of the floodlight on the barn reminded her that the electricity was on in the house. She could use it and stay indoors. Chad would be amazed to come home to a meal cooked with an appliance inside the house!
The clock chimed nine by the time she had her food arranged in the pot and it turned on in the corner of the counter. She glanced at the phone charger and saw her phone was fully charged again. No messages. It must have been an exhausting day. Poor Chad, he’d be exhausted by the time he got home.
Willow filled a bowl with Wheaties, poured her own milk over it, and took a bite. “Now that is good,” she murmured to herself and shuddered remembering the horrible taste of the milk Chad preferred to Ditto’s contribution.
Mother’s particularity for neatness was a blessing now. A kitchen cleaned as it is used is easy to polish when you’re done using it. The house needed little work done but Willow remembered Chad mentioning his dislike for hotel beds and decided to change the sheets and blankets for him. He’d sleep better in fresh linens and with clean blankets.
Automatically, she reached for the sheets they’d always used but paused. A set of unused and silky soft cotton sheets caught her eye. They’d been a gift from her uncle Kyle and his family for the wedding and she’d washed, dried, and folded them with the rest of the linens without expecting to use them for some time but now she ran her fingers over them again. They were so buttery feeling. Perhaps-
With a happy smile on her face, she grabbed the sheets and went to strip her bed. Her mattress pad looked limp and the sight of it sent her back to the linen closet where she pulled her mother’s from the top shelf. Sniffing it carefully, she nodded with satisfaction; there wasn’t a trace of dust or mustiness.
Singing as she worked, Willow made the bed adding her favorite lightweight summer blankets and her lightweight quilted coverlet. She loved the beauty of quilts but even the lightest weight batting was often too warm in summer so she’d made one with only a layer of low thread-count muslin as a batting one year It was perfect for hot summer nights.
Scooping up the pile of laundry, she dumped the bathroom hamper into the heap and carried it all downstairs to the back porch. Portia would probably have a lovely time sleeping on her blankets but right at that moment, Willow didn’t care. She refused to go near the barn unless absolutely necessary.
The phone stood forlorn on the counter. No flashing lights told her of a message. She picked it up called to leave a voicemail.. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and ask you to call or send a note. Everything is good here except that you’re not. Here that is. Anyway, praying for you… bye…”
He’d warned her that things were uncertain during trials. Anything could delay things, the judge could require them to turn in their cell phones and all kinds of electronic gadgets before entering the courtroom or he could be required to stay for another day. Willow, not really expecting it to be an issue, had assured him she’d see him when he got home and not to worry bout her. She’d never imagined that she’d begin to worry about him.
“You’re being ridiculous. Just because the last time he didn’t answer the phone was a nightmare doesn’t mean it always is. Go read a book or make something.”
***
By nine o’clock, she’d given up hope that he’d be home that night. The roast, cooked until it fell apart at the touch, was delicious and hardly touched. Sitting in the ice box and waiting to be reheated, it was a testimony to the ingenious invention, the crock-pot and to the sadness of one person eating it alone.
The coffee table was covered with a layer of handmade note cards and a stack of matching envelopes stood waiting to be paired with a card. She carefully replaced her supplies in their basket before returning it to the craft room and snapping off the light. In her room, she pulled a silky set of shorts and camisole from her drawers and examined it. Would the fabric breathe and be cool or would it be uncomfortable? It looked cool and felt so luxurious that she decided to try it. One glance at the bed sent a wave of disappointment over her. It wouldn’t be fresh anymore by tomorrow night and with the rain and her day off, she didn’t have time to do extra laundry to do it all over again.
Willow wandered through the house straightening little things and feeling lost. She was tired but antsy. The cards on her table were finally dry so she stacked them and set them on the bookshelf until she felt like matching them with envelopes. Finally, she stepped outside carrying her favorite couch pillow and curled into the porch swing to watch the stars, listen to the cicadas’ song, and reconnect with her Lord.
***
As she fed the chickens, the distinct sound of the French horns in Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture erupted from her jeans. “What!” She fished the phone from her pocket and flipped it open at the sight of Marianne’s name. “Oh Mom, my phone is playing music! I almost had a heart attack.”
“What is it playing?”
“The 1812 Overture- the part with the French horns? You know, da de da de da de da- da da.”
“Chad must have done it. Um, speaking of Chad, he asked me to call you.”
Willow’s voice grew wary. “About what? Why didn’t he call?”
“Well, his phone is broken for one thing. He needs to get a new one. Anyway, he asked me to tell you that he’s been detained here in town for a few more days.”
“Why?”
Marianne continued as though Willow hadn’t spoken. “-and he probably won’t be able to call. If he does, it’ll be very late at night.”
“Mom, what’s going on? Is there trouble with the trial?”
“Willow,” Marianne said as though dreading the coming discussion, “that’s all he told me to tell you except that he wants you to trust him. He’ll explain everything when he gets home.”
The protest that formed died on her lips as Marianne said ‘trust’. “Can you tell e if he’s ok?”
“He’s ok- now. He’ll be home as soon as he can.”
“Should I be praying?” Willow whispered nervously.
Marianne’s cheerful voice wiped away the final traces of concern from Willow’s voice as she assured Willow that prayer never hurts. Willow stared at the phone for several seconds after her mother-in-law disconnected and wondered just how long it’d be before he came home. She’d heard of sequestered juries- did they sequester witnesses too?
***
Late Sunday night, Willow once more sat on her porch swing wearing another camisole set and feeling cool and refreshed. Her hair was wet as she brushed the tangles from it and braided it into her familiar braid. One bare foot pushed the swing back and forth as she swayed in the night air. Portia lay with her head resting on Willow’s belly as Willow scratched behind her ears and sang her favorite Argosy Junction songs softly.
The past few days had been strange. After living alone for so long, she’d gotten accustomed to having Chad stop by, calling, having half the small chores done before she got up in the morning leaving her free to do other things. Without him, it felt lonely- empty. She missed his arm around her as she slept and hearing his heart beat when they curled on the couch together. She missed hearing about Aiden Cox’s latest prank or the strange serenade from one of the transports to Brunswick.
More than anything, however, she missed hearing him praise her. The giant tomato in her greenhouse was gone now- taken away by Jill. Chad would never hold it and tell her how amazing it was. She had yarn ready to dye but she’d waited for her to bring the Kool-aid that her instructions called for. She needed to hear that what she was doing was appreciated.
Just as she stood to go upstairs and try to sleep, head lights turned into the driveway from the highway. She walked slowly to the first step and wrapped an arm around the porch post straining to see into the night. The headlights were gone now. In a few seconds they’d flash over the top of the hill just before they illuminated the house and yard.
It was Chad’s truck. He was home. Everything would be back to normal now. Willow smiled as she skipped down the steps to greet him as he shut the truck door behind him.
“Lass? You ok?”
Willow’s arms wrapped around his neck as she stood behind the couch and laid her cheek on his head. “Yes. I think it was the milk. It tasted so funny and my stomach is still sensitive.”
“But the milk was fine.”
“It didn’t taste fine. Maybe I’m just not used to cow’s milk or maybe it’s the plastic. I don’t know, but it was the milk. Next time I’ll just use Ditto’s.”
“I think you need that BRAT diet. I’ll call mom and ask what is in it.”
Before Willow could ask, Chad was on the phone with his mother. She slowly climbed the stairs and stood before her mirror examining herself from every angle. She didn’t look bigger. In fact, she looked thinner as though she’d lost weight. Why was he worried about putting her on a diet? Did she really look that bad?
“Mom says banana, rice, applesauce, and dry toast.”
“I have applesauce and toast.”
“What are you doing up here?” Chad had never seen her stare at herself in the mirror like that.
“Just looking. Do I really look that bad?”
“You look a little peaked but once your stomach recovers and you can eat normally again, you’ll be fine. Put back on the pounds you lost.”
The confusion on her face was priceless. “You want to put me on a diet so that I can gain weight?”
“What diet?”
“The BRAT one that you had to get from your mom.”
He took her hand leading her downstairs laughing as he went. “No silly, it’s a ‘diet’ in that it’s a prescribed regimen of food. It’s what people eat for a day or two after they’ve had a stomach bug to make it easy on their stomach.” He handed her a glass of water and opened the front door. “Ride to town with me. It’ll be good for you.”
“As long as you don’t expect me to go in anywhere. I need a shower.”
Her stomach rumbled along with the wheels on her way to town. “I guess I’m hungry.”
“I’ll have a banana for you in no time. Do you like them still slightly green, very yellow, or a little overripe?”
She stared at him dumbstruck. “How am I supposed to know? I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had a banana. We didn’t grow them. As far as I know, they don’t grow very well here.”
The sarcasm in her voice nearly made Chad jump for joy. His Willow was back. “Do you remember if they had green on them or spots?”
“I remember they existed. They were good. Sweet but not too sweet like some things.”
“I’ll get you a basic ripe banana. And rice. White or brown- never mind, I think I remember mom telling Cheri to do white back when we were in high school. Something about not as nutritious but easier on the stomach.”
Willow waited in the truck as Chad crossed the street waving at nearly everyone and disappeared into the market. A memory flashed through her mind of the first time she remembered coming to town. Based upon her dress, Willow assumed she’d been around four or five years old. She saw the way her mother kept her hat pulled so that it hid most of her face and wondered what others had thought of the strange woman and child that came to town once or twice a year.
“Mother, why are the houses so close together?”
The ever-patient voice of her mother answered as she wove through the streets avoiding the eyes of those who tried to be friendly. “Because some people like to live on top of each other.”
“But there’s no room for gardens or animals. How do they eat?”
“See that store?” Her mother paused and stooped down to the child’s level. “See where the lady in the purple shirt is going in? That’s a grocery store. People buy all the food they need in there.”
“That store isn’t big enough to grow enough food for all of these people! Our garden is almost as big as that store and where do they keep the animals? These cars would kill chickens.”
Familiar chuckles made the child feel secure and foolish at the same time. She knew what those chuckles meant. It meant that she’d said something silly and that her mother didn’t see how smart she really was for thinking of these things. The child thought her mother didn’t always appreciate her intelligence.
“Willow, the store only keeps enough food for a week or so. They have food brought from everywhere. By bringing it so often, they ensure that everything is fresh. People just go get what they need for a week or two and then come back.”
Willow’s next words surprised the mother. “How sad. I’m sorry for them.”
“Why sorry?”
“They don’t get to see things grow. They don’t get to know that the tomato they’re eating is the one they picked ’specially for them. They have to take whatever someone else gives them.”
Mother laughed. “Want to know a secret?” she whispered in the child’s ear. “The food isn’t as good either. They have to pick it too soon so that it doesn’t spoil before they get it to the stores.”
“I will pray for them. Those poor, poor people. Someone should tell them-”
“They know, Willow. They know.”
“That’s just foolish.” The emphatic tone of the child’s voice amused a passer-by.
“They would say that working so hard for enough to eat and a way to stay warm and dry is foolish. Everyone makes their choices.”
“But some people make foolish ones,” Willow added with finality. “I’m glad God gave me to a Mother who makes smart choices for us.”
“Oh Willow.”
Arms around her startled her. “Wha-”
“What’s wrong, Lass? Do you feel worse?”
She realized that tears were streaming down her face. “I was remembering a trip with Mother. I didn’t even know I was crying.”
“You should write those memories down. Our children will treasure them.” He reached for the box of Kleenex he kept in the glove compartment. “Here.”
“Did you get bananas and rice?”
Chad pulled out a box of fruit popsicles. “And popsicles. It’s almost as medicinal for a stomach bug as chicken soup is for a cold or the flu.”
Willow pulled the stick from the wrapper and bit off the end of it. “Ohh!”
Laughing Chad grabbed another Kleenex and handed it to her. “Spit it out if you need to. It’s cold.”
“I should have expected it but I didn’t,” she said surprised.
“Nibble or suck on it. It’ll soothe your throat too. Let’s get you home and if you keep that down, I’ll give you a banana.”
“But this isn’t part of the BRAT thing. Popsicle wasn’t in there.” She looked at it warily. Another bout of vomiting was not what she had in mind for her afternoon.
“This counts as a liquid. Liquids don’t count for the BRAT so you’re ok.”
She glanced his way and sighed. “I think BRAT is a double entendre. I think it also stands for the state of mind of people who are too weak to protest but too hungry not to.”
***
Late that night, Chad noticed Willow’s journal on the coffee table and opened it hesitantly. She’d assured him that he was welcome to read them at any time but it seemed like such an invasion of her privacy. Willow had given up so much of her life to make him a part of it that he felt like any more intrusion was almost criminal.
This time, however, he opened it. Curiosity triumphed over his unnecessary scruples and he sprawled out on the couch, munched on his sandwich, and flipped to the first page. The first words surprised him.
March-
It seems that nothing I do in this new life of mine is right. One moment I think I have the hang of things and the next I’ve unwittingly stomped on more toes. I have wondered at times if stepping away from Mother’s isolation was the best choice for me but even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t go back now. Life without Marianne and Libby- without Cheri and Chuck it’s a sad thought. Life without Chad? Inconceivable!
On the other hand, I do see that our life made us selfish. We did what we wanted, when we wanted, and with little regard for anyone but ourselves because our way of life encouraged it. If Mother wanted to take up weaving, she did it. She didn’t wonder if maybe the noise of the loom would hurt my head or if I thought the thing was ugly sitting in the living room night after night. I may have found it obnoxious but we each respected the other’s ‘right’ to be obnoxious I guess. She hated the idea of sheep but I could have bought them at any time. We both knew that if I wanted them badly enough, I would have just done it and Mother wouldn’t have said a word. It’s just how we did things. It worked for us but rarely did we have to die to self.
He skipped a few months and read from mid-April.
I decided what to give Chad for a wedding gift. Once he mentioned that he’d be giving me one, I realized that it was an opportunity for me to step out in faith. I’ll move his things into my room and pray for the strength and the courage to trust. I know I can trust Chad to treat me well but I need the faith to trust the Lord that what He created as good is truly good. Mother left no doubt in my mind that the things of marriage are horrible and to be avoided. Mother wasn’t a liar. How do I reconcile what she said with what God and the Tesdalls and my Chad say?
Chad swallowed hard. He hadn’t realized how torn she’d been. He reread it once more smiling in spite of himself. She’d called him ‘her’ Chad. She was fond of him. He’d known it for some time but seeing that unintentional possessiveness meant a lot to him. At times, he’d felt very alone. He’d finally accepted that she might never love him as he loved her and though it hurt to acknowledge it, it had also strengthened his resolve to love her as unconditionally as he possibly could.
He slowly climbed the stairs, crept into their room, and ran the backs of his fingers across the top of her head as she slept. The second banana peel lay on the nightstand next to a pile of popsicle sticks. From the looks of it, she’d eaten every one in the box. He sighed, kissed her cheek, and left whispering, “Love you lass.”
Being as observant as most males, Chad’s hands were washed, dried, and he was on his way out the bathroom door before he glanced at the back of the toilet. The test was gone. He hurried into their bedroom and glanced at the night tables but nothing was there. Back to the bathroom, he glanced in the trash and found the wrapper but no instructions and no used- His eyes fell on the test at last.
Comparing instructions to test, it was obvious to Chad that the test was negative. Disappointment washed over him. He’d been so sure. Why was she so sick if she wasn’t pregnant? Willow was never sick and had little opportunity to catch anything anyway. The sound of the back screen door banging softly against the doorjamb told him she was up and dealing with her own discouragement.
She sat on her heels stuffing the stove with wood and mumbling something under her breath. “You’re awake.”
“I think we’re a pair of geniuses. I was just about to make the same observation.” Chad’s heart constricted at the pain in her eyes but he didn’t move closer. “Lass, it’s not the end of everything. There’s always next month, or the next, or even next year or so.”
“You were so excited…” She noted his distance and closed her eyes slowly and deliberately before reaching for another handful of kindling. “It feels like I failed-”
Chad’s hands, on their way to his pockets in his characteristic frustrated stance, reached for her instead. “Oh Willow, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to feel like that! I jumped the gun. I’ve never seen you sick so I just assumed-”
“But I’m late.” I am sure of it. Normally I don’t pay really close attention but your mother said about our wedding date and I wanted to surprise you so-” She buried her face in his shoulder and fought back a wave of dizziness but failed.
She sagged in his arms limply. “I’m dizzy…”
Chad hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the couch. “Put your head between your legs and breathe normally.”
“What happened?” Her voice was a little weak and confused.
“You said you were dizzy.”
“That’s right.” She glanced back up at him but the spinning of the room sent her head back down between her knees. “I want to lay down.”
As he rolled the quilt from the back of the couch into a ball, Chad began thinking aloud. “Maybe you’re dehydrated. Have you been drinking enough?”
“I’ve not been able to keep much down if you’ll remember.”
“I wonder if I should take you into the clinic…” His voice trailed off in the general direction of his thoughts as Chad considered their options.
“Maybe,” she said obviously feeling better having lain down, “you should consider getting me something with which to hydrate myself first. Water works.”
Absently, Chad poured her a glass of water and brought it back stuffing a straw in it as he handed it to her. “Drink up.”
“It’s stuffy in here.”
Her complaints brought a smile to his face. Willow must be feeling better if she noticed stuffiness of all things. While she rested, sipping water and resting her eyes, he threw open all of the windows knowing that with the coming storm, he’d just have to close them again later. “Is that better?”
“I smell a storm.”
“Yep. The forecast is for heavy winds, rain, and possibly hail.”
“Hail?” She sat up abruptly looking visibly woozy. “It gets cold in here when it hails. We’ll need more wood for upstairs tonight.”
“I’ll get it. You rest.”
“Can you open the windows up there too? The breeze just before a storm smells so good…”
***
With shades drawn to keep the sunrise from slowly filling the room with sunlight, Willow crept from the bedroom closing the door behind her. Downstairs, she opened the front door and groaned at the sight of her front yard. Tree branches littered the grass, one large one crashed through the porch railing, and some of her flowers battered beyond recognition.
Chad opened the back door an hour later to find the chickens pecking at the seed in the yard, Ditto in a freshly cleaned stall, and Willow dragging tree branches behind the barn. As he watched her, his hands found their way into his pockets and the crease between his eyebrows deepened. She looked tired- exhausted really. Every move, every step looked labored.
He hurried inside, filled a glass with water, and brought it out to her. “I’ll finish that one, you go sit on the steps and drink up.”
“But-”
“Lass…” His tone was one he’d only used once before when he’d ordered her from his parents’ house that winter.
“I’m going, I’m going.”
She sat long enough to empty her glass and then pulled her gloves back onto her hands and started pulling debris from the flower beds. They worked for another hour. Chad detached the railing from the house and dumped it in the back of his truck. “I’ll go get another one later.”
“I’m hungry.” Willow sank into the porch swing exhausted, weak, and thirsty.
“You,” Chad said loudly as he went inside for the couch quilt. “You need your rest. I’ll go get a new rail top and be back in no time. I’ll grab something for us to eat on my way back.”
Willow pointed at the empty glass and promptly fell asleep. Chad refilled it, sat it on the ground next to her, and watched her sleep for a moment before he jogged to his truck and drove toward Brunswick. His watch told him he had just enough time to get there, get the materials, and get it fixed before he had to change for work.
His phone rang. “I just left you sleeping!”
“I heard the truck start. Listen, I was thinking. Can you get me some red exterior paint?”
“Red?”
Her impatient voice snapped back, “Yes red. You know, the color of tulips and candy canes?”
“Whatever for?”
“I really loved Aggie’s door but I thought I couldn’t have one because the screen would hide it. Why go red if you can’t see it, you know?”
Chad nodded absently. “Ok.”
“Well, if I paint the screen, I get that bright and cheerful door after all. A gallon will probably be too much but it’ll be good for touch ups.’
“Red. Got it. Anything else?”
She smiled to herself. “Do you remember last summer when I had a bad day and you brought me some chocolate thing?”
A grin spread slowly over Chad’s face. “I do indeed.”
“Can I have another one?” She hesitated. “I promise I won’t eat the paper this time.”
“You can have a case of ‘em.”
Willow smiled to herself. “That’s ok. Just one will do. Thanks Chad. I’m going back to sleep now.”
“Sleep on the couch it’s more comfy.”
“That’s your opinion,” she argued. “Nothing beats nostalgia on a June morning.”
She was still sleeping there as Chad pulled slowly into the yard. He pushed his door shut gently, grabbed the grocery bags from the back of the truck and crept past her to the back door and into the house. He set the table with bowls, spoons, and a gallon of milk. Orange juice filled glasses, he fried bacon in a pan on the stove in the summer kitchen, and finally crept out the front door to wake her.
“Willow, breakfast’s ready.”
“Wha-”
“I brought home breakfast. Come on, the bacon is getting cold!” He shook her shoulder glancing at the empty glass of water. At least she’d taken hydration seriously.
She dragged herself off the swing and followed him clumsily into the kitchen. “I am so tired.”
Chad looked at her sharply. Dark circles beneath her eyes made her look as though she hadn’t slept in days. “You look it.”
“Ever the flatterer- what is this?”
“Cereal smorgasbord! I bought all of my favorite kinds and the one mom likes.”
“Frosted Mini-Wheats, Cocoa Puffs, Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops, Cap’n Crunch Berries, and Wheaties? Let me guess, your mom likes Wheaties. They just sound closer to real food.”
He shook his head. “Nope, she likes Cap’n Crunch. I think it’s gross myself. I got the berries because I think it makes them more edible.”
“What’s with the milk? We have plenty-”
“Well, your milk is good, for goat’s milk that is, but cold cereal was designed for cow’s milk. It’s like eating pizza without the sauce.”
As he spoke, Chad filled his bowl with Cocoa Puffs and smothered it in milk. She reached for the first box, poured a tiny bit in the bowl, poured milk over it and took a bite. As she chewed, she read the box ingredients, glanced over the packaging, and then closed it. “Lucky Charms are gross.”
She picked up the Fruit Loops box and repeated the scenario. At the end of her buffet of cereals, she pronounced Wheaties the winner with Frosted Mini-Wheats a close second. “The orange juice was really good too.”
She rinsed her glass and poured half a glass of milk as she reached for a cold slice of bacon. “I love bacon. Mother would bring it home sometimes and the butcher usually brought us a pound of it with the cow if Mother remembered to ask.”
She took a drink of milk and nearly choked. Chad’s expression was priceless. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s awful! It tastes like- like, some kind of chemical. I don’t know how to explain it but it’s almost dusty tasting or something. Ew.”
Chad quickly poured him a glass and took a large swallow. “Tastes great to me.”
“Oh that is just- ew.” She watched fascinated as he guzzled the rest of his drink and then poured the rest of hers into his glass. “Here, finish mine then.”
She stared at the boxes of cereal on the table. “Do you realize how many boxes we have? It’ll take forever to eat all of this!”
Chad grinned. “But think of the fun we’ll have.”
As much as she wished she felt the same, Willow was dismayed to think of many more breakfasts with cold and dry cereal growing soggy before she could get to the final bites. She shuddered inwardly just thinking about it. Carrying the boxes to the pantry, she set them on a shelf at eye level so she wouldn’t forget about them. It’d be wasteful to let them get stale and inedible no matter how appealing the idea seemed.
She sank into her chair and reached for her glass. Willow sighed as she realized she’d have to rinse it again before she could fill it with water. Chad noticed, and took it to the sink rinsing well, and then brought it back. “Keep drinking. I want to see those circles gone from under your eyes.”
“I need another nap. I think I’ll go back upstairs.”
As she disappeared from the kitchen, Chad stared at the empty doorway. She acted so pregnant! The test said no but she was tired, she’d been so sick, and the dizziness all seemed like symptoms he’d heard over the years. Uncertain of what else to do, he dialed home.
“Mom?”
“Chaddie! I’ve been going crazy! What did the test say?”
“Test was negative mom but she’s still acting so weird. She is sleeping so much, she has dark circles under her eyes, she’s gotten dizzy a couple of times, and milk tastes funny to her.”
“Well, her milk tastes funny to me too but-”
“No mom,” Chad interrupted impatiently. “I brought home real milk to put on cold cereal- did you know she’s never had cold cereal?”
“Did you get her Cap’n Crunch?”
“She didn’t like it any more than the others I bought. She hardly commented on it at all which tells me she’s still sick. Willow never keeps her opinions to herself with me.
This, Marianne could believe. Willow was, if nothing else, forthright with her opinions. “So maybe it’s just too early. If she doesn’t start in a few days, have her take another one.”
“But if she’s too early to show up on a test, wouldn’t she be too early to get sick?”
“Well, for most women, yes. But who knows with her? Maybe she’s one of those women who is sick within a few hours. I’ve heard of women who start vomiting within minutes but I admit, it’s rare.”
Chad thought about that. “Oh mom, we can’t have her that sick. There is too much here for me to do myself and she was totally incapacitated.”
“So you’ll buy canned tomatoes and peaches and whatever else she does. The gal who buys from the garden can do her own picking and when you’re working, that boy can come feed and milk. It’ll work.”
His mother’s words, while logical and practical, were not encouraging. “I hope this is just some kind of stomach bug. Maybe she ate something fishy in Rockland during her deposition.”
“This being ‘just a bug’ isn’t going to erase the possibility of a difficult pregnancy Chad. You have to…”
“To what mom?”
Marianne didn’t answer for a moment as she thought about her idea. It could be helpful but she wasn’t sure how painful it might be. “Well, I just thought of something. Did Kari keep journals that far back?”
“Yes. She has journals from her college days.”
“I’d find the right months and look and see how she reacted to pregnancy. See if she mentions getting sick, how bad, and that kind of stuff. Willow might remember but I’d look it up myself. That must be hard-”
“Willow hasn’t ever read them and therefore, neither have I. She just skipped to the one when she was about to give birth and ignored the rest.”
“Read it son,” Marianne urged. “It can only help. If her mother was this sick this early, you’ve got a better idea of what might be happening. It doesn’t mean anything if she wasn’t but it’s a starting place.”
Before he could say another word, the horrible sounds of retching reached him. “Gotta go mom, there she goes again.”
“Sick?”
“Yeah,” he groaned rushing to dampen a washcloth as he tried to extricate himself from the conversation.
“Praying.” The phone clicked.
Willow sat up in bed looking tiny, miserable, and confused. “I thought I was done but-” Another heave sent the rest of her breakfast from her stomach. “I guess not.”
Chad glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten and he had to be at work by two. They had to get to the bottom of this and soon. He laid the cloth across her forehead and told her to lie back and rest. Fighting the urge to lose his own breakfast, he dumped and scrubbed- again.
“I’m sorry, Chad. I don’t know what is wrong with me…”
“You’re sick. Either with a stomach bug, some kind of food poisoning, or possibly a baby or two.”
“Two?”
“Mom said something about twins maybe being why everything was so bad so fast if you are pregnant.” Chad remembered the sinking feeling he had trying to imagine two babies at once and how it had mingled with a momentary feeling of excitement. Two! He couldn’t let himself think about it.
“I guess twice the children, twice the misery makes sense.”
He laughed. “That’s encouraging. Hey, she also suggested we check your mother’s journals for that time. She thought maybe if your mom got sick quickly, maybe it’s genetic or something.”
“You do it. I tried to read them once and I haven’t tried again. It was horrible. If they don’t say anything, maybe Grandmother Finley would know.”
As though she’d finished her job of talking, Willow grabbed the blanket, pulled it over her shoulder, curled into a ball around the bucket, and promptly fell asleep. Chad stood in the doorway, hands stuffed in his jeans and shook his head as she slept. She was so fragile looking and the words fragile and Willow didn’t belong in the same thought.
He went into Kari’s old room, looked at the shelf between the closet and bedroom doors, and then glanced around the rest of the room. They weren’t in there. He checked the spare and craft rooms, the shelf in the living room, and finally found them on the top shelf of the closet in the library. He pulled the three volumes from the shelf and stared curiously at them. Three volumes for less than nine months of life. She’d been, well, prolific in recording her thoughts, dreams, and fears.
He set his cell phone to ring at one-thirty and sank into the couch already dreading the words to come. As an officer, even the thought of what Kari had endured made him livid. Why should the wealthy get away with crimes like that? How could Steven Solari even think his money could salve the pain his son inflicted on a young woman?
October 1983,
I have the check. I don’t know what to do with it. I took it because I thought I’d take it to the police for proof of who it was but I’m scared. It’s my word against Steve’s. Mr. Solari can simply say that he didn’t want nasty lies spread about their family and paying me off was easier than going through a scandal to prove their innocence.
I could keep it, save it, and if someone else came forward then I could maybe use it to show them that she wasn’t the only one. Maybe that’s what I’ll do.
I’m afraid of him. Steven Solari isn’t like his son. Steve was just an uncontrolled brute but Mr. Solari is a very controlled and very powerful man. I wonder why he hasn’t just had me killed? He could easily do that. I wonder if he’s waiting for me to cash the check.
November 1983,
I took a pregnancy test today. I was sure the stress of everything was just making me late but I thought I’d take it just so I could sleep knowing that one thing in my life was fine.
It’s not. The little test tube and dropper thing was so frustrating. It warned me not to jostle it and it took forever for the results but if this thing is to be believed, I am pregnant. I don’t know what I’ll do now.
November 1983-
I cashed the check, bought a house, walked out of my apartment and left my car door open in the campus parking lot. I found a financial guy who set it up so that some kind of corporation bought the house and has the utilities so no one will find me. I hated leaving without saying goodbye. I couldn’t take anything with me- not even my purse. Mr. Barnes is taking care of everything for me. He says in a couple of years I can request a new driver’s license and Social Security card and no one will be looking for me anymore.
I added the time and I’m six weeks pregnant. The baby will be here in mid July. From the books I have, I should be getting sick anytime now. Lord, I’m so scared.
Chad read through December and January but saw nothing but occasional glimpses of nausea and no vomiting. From the sheer volume of work that Kari seemed to accomplish, he assumed that fatigue wasn’t a problem. Basically, her journals told much and confirmed nothing.
One passage from January ripped at his heart. Kari’s words echoed in his mind as he stared at the journal. “… why did he ask me out? Why didn’t I hide in the bathroom when he got so drunk? Why didn’t I call a cab? Why am I so stupid? Why?”
She stretched, yawned, clutched the bucket, and then relaxed. No wave of nausea followed but her muscles felt weak and her mouth tasted as though something crawled inside and died. Willow crawled from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom eager to brush her teeth. Minutes later she flushed the toilet and saw a plastic wrapper and a folded paper pamphlet.
Not until she was cuddled against her pillows sipping on 7-Up and resting did she realize the purpose of the wrapper an pamphlet. She read all instructions carefully, reread them, and was on a third pass before Chad found her flipping the paper back and forth curiously.
“Hey, did you test?”
“I’m reading. Did you know that the other side is in what looks like Spanish? I saw diez. I think that’s ten and on the other side the same paragraph says something about not reading it after ten minutes.”
“Most medications and instructions come in English and Spanish.” He hesitated searching for the right words. “Estados Unidos llega a ser una sociedad bilingüe. Or something like that. I’m rusty.”
“Say it again. That’s beautiful!”
Chad repeated the words slowly watching comprehension dawn as she listened. “I heard States United society bilingual. You said something about the United States being a bilingual society.”
“Very good. I actually went with a fairly literal translation of ‘the United States is becoming a bilingual society.’ I’m sure it’s not correct but I was always better at translating than at communication.”
“When did you learn Spanish?”
Chad shrugged. “Two semesters in high school, two more in college. I thought it’d help on the job and it’s easier to learn than Japanese, Korean, or Russian which are the other four most spoken languages in the greater Rockland area.”
“I can see why it’s easy to understand anyway. It’s very similar to English. I mean I knew it was to a degree- Latin is at the core of both languages but the songs I’ve heard in Spanish were never as easy to understand as what you just said.”
“Well,” Chad admitted, “It’s not all that simple but compared to Swahili or something-”
“Why would you learn that? Is there a large population of Swahili speaking criminals in the area?”
Her question would have seemed sarcastic to the average person but Willow was curiously serious. “No. That’s just a joke. So are you ready to try the test?”
“It wants me to-” Suddenly, Willow understood her mother’s distaste in discussing personal bodily fluids. In general, things were fine. Personalize them and well, she’d either gotten self-conscious for no reasonable reason or she was becoming her mother.
“Yeah, I know how they work.”
“Really? Then why leave me the directions? Why not just tell me?”
Chad stared at her oddly. Was she teasing him? Was she serious? Was she curious? The whole scenario was bizarre. “Well, you tend to like to read things for yourself…”
“I do. You just usually tell me how it works and I wonder why you don’t want me to read the instructions and this time you didn’t.”
He stared to protest but the truth of her words effectively corked his reply. He did tend to set instructions aside and tell her what he thought they said. He hadn’t picked up on it but Willow sure had. “Next time, ask for the instructions. I wasn’t doing it consciously.”
“You haven’t steered me wrong yet. When you make me take twice as long as necessary to do something, then I’ll start asking to read the instructions.” Before he could reply, she tossed the paper at him. “I used the bathroom before I read it and I have very little liquid to absorb as it is. I need to drink for a while.”
Chad rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Where do you think we should put a baby? In mother’s room or in the one you just fixed up?”
Willow curled next to him resting her head on his chest. “I don’t know. I’ll have to read which is best and see why mother chose this room for me and her room for her. There might be a reason.”
***
Willow covered her mouth to stifle a giggle as Chad stood in front of the bathroom window rocking the pregnancy test back and forth trying to get a clearer reading. “It’s not going to change. I think I did something wrong.”
“What can you do wrong? How hard is it to pee on a stick for goodness sake!”
“Well, maybe for a man it’s not so hard but women are shooting blind you know!” The indignation in Willow’s voice did little to hide her amusement.
He threw her an impatient smile and shifted once more. “Well, I think there’s a line in that control window but it’s so faint I can’t tell. The other window seems to have a line too but it’s also faint so I can’t tell what is going on. I think you need to do it again.”
“Well, then we’ll have to wait a while because I need a nap.”
Chad glanced at his watch, confused. She’d hardly been awake for an hour. It was almost four o’clock and she’d slept most of the day away. He’d never heard of that kind of somnolence as a symptom of pregnancy but what did he know? Tucking her into the bed, he positioned the bucket nearby just in case. “Get some sleep. I’ll go buy the soup du jour at the deli. It’ll be easier on your stomach for dinner than anything I can make and it’ll taste better than canned.”
“Mmm hmm. Thanks,” she murmured, half asleep already.
On the porch, Chad dialed his mother. Her excited voice sent him into panic mode. “Mom, stop! I don’t know. She took the test and it was a dud or something. You’re supposed to see lines in two windows and if I held it just right with my right hip cocked and my tongue sticking out I think I saw a line in each window but for all I know, it’s just the light shining on whatever chemical makes up that line in the first place.”
“Well, she can take another one. Did you buy two?”
“I bought two boxes so we’d have a spare but there are three in each box. Honestly mom, why three in a box? Do they really need to triple confirm?”
“I think it’s so if you’re negative one month, you don’t have to go back over and over.”
The disgust in Chad’s voice was comical. “I think it’s so they can sell the duds and blame it on the consumer. Willow immediately said she thought she messed up the test.”
“Oh, what did she do wrong?”
“Come on mom, how hard is it to pee on a stick!”
“Well Chad,” she began patiently,” really. Remember how you and Chris used to drop Cheerios in the toilet and try to aim for them. Girls couldn’t do that. They’d be shooting blind.”
Chad stared at his phone. “Have you been talking to Willow?”
“No, why?”
“She said the same exact thing. It’s like déjà vu. I feel like that kid in A Christmas Story. Is everyone going to tell me she’ll shoot her eye out?”
“Oh honestly Chad. You are being silly! Now why don’t you just go make her a nice bowl of soup-”
Chad interrupted quickly. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m on my way to buy some at the deli. We don’t have anything light enough for a weak stomach.”
“You’re calling about soup?”
“No, I’m calling,” he tried again with practiced patience. Why wasn’t his mother following the conversation better? It was as though she’d lost her mind at the hint of babies or something. “Because she’s asleep again. She’s slept most of today and all last night.”
“Well, some pregnant women do that. I remember Libby saying she slept away the first four months of her pregnancy with Corinne.”
“We don’t even know if she is pregnant, mom!”
Marianne reminded her son that after any stomach bug, he’d always slept most of a day away while he recuperated. “She’ll either be fine and pregnant or fine and ready to handle a miserable late cycle. It’s pretty much either or on that one.”
***
At two a.m., Chad strolled into the police station, trying not to worry about his wife, thanking the Lord for the unlikelihood of a drunk tourist, and counting the hours until his lunch break. “Hey Waverly. How’re you doing?”
“Fine but what are you doing here?”
Chad pointed to the board where his name had been written, erased, and Waverly’s filled in. “You worked for me yesterday. Go home.”
“No. Your wife is sick. You go home and get some sleep before you come down with it. That bug is awful.”
Oh how Chad wanted to deny it was the problem. He couldn’t wait until he could tell everyone that his wife was having a baby. “Ugh,” he mused to himself. “You sound um… paternal! You’re only twenty-six man, get a grip.”
“Chad?”
He glanced back up into Waverly’s concerned face. “Huh?”
“Go. Home.”
“I can’t do that to you.”
Waverly placed his hand on the phone. “Do you go home now, or do I wake up the Chief and tell him you refuse to obey orders.”
“Since when do I take orders from you?”
“From the chief, you moron,” Waverly spat exasperated. “Get out of here or I’m calling and you can deal with Sir Sleepless.”
“Sir Sleepless?” Chad couldn’t help mocking him.
“It’s two in the morning and I’ve almost worked a double shift. What do you want from me?”
“You to know how much I appreciate it. Thanks Brad.”
***
At four, Willow finally dragged herself from the bed, grabbed the instructions, and padded toward the bathroom. Chad barely stirred. Though woozy from lack of food and fuzzy from too much rest, Willow felt nearly well. She grabbed test number two and reread the instructions carefully. Instructions for saved urine seemed easier so she retrieved a pint canning jar from the pantry and followed directions step by step.
The clock never moved so slowly. As the thought flitted across her mind, Willow realized that it was also a strange thought. How would she know? She’d read the comment repeated times and finally understood the meaning in more than a theoretical sense but the fact of the mater was, she rarely noticed the passing of time unless it was one of those odd occasions when she realized that something was unusually swift. This was the opposite feeling. If it could go any slower, time would cease.
Finally, the clock in Mother’s room insisted that ten minutes had passed. She picked up the test and examined it carefully. In the ‘control window’ a nice bold line stood out from the damp background. In the ‘results window’ nothing. She wasn’t pregnant. Chad would be so disappointed.
Laying the test on the sink where he could see it and tucking the instructions behind the faucet for easy reference, Willow crept slowly downstairs, out the back door, and sat on the porch whistling softly for Portia. “No baby, girl. I couldn’t imagine so soon but then again, when we bred Dandy, it only took the once so…”
Portia rested her head comfortingly on Willow’s leg. Together, woman and dog, sat on the back porch of Walden Farm and while the woman imagined life with a tiny baby, a toothy toddler, or an inquisitive child, Portia slept dreaming of chasing butterflies that turned into steak. Or at least, that’s what Willow assumed.
Go HERE and enjoy!
Willow held her phone away from her, one hand covering her mouth, and her eyes closed tight. She was tempted to refuse. After all, if she did, maybe the D.A. wouldn’t subpoena her. It might happen, right? She remembered Chad’s words and hesitated. Was it disrespectful to balk at something that she knew Chad wanted her to do willingly? He asked so little of her and while technically he hadn’t asked her to give her deposition willingly, she knew he hoped she would. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes, held the phone back to her ear and sighed.
“I’m here. I’ll come whenever you need me but I want to make it plain, I won’t be volunteering any information. I’ll answer your questions but I’ll not elaborate.”
“You don’t want to testify against the woman responsible for all your trouble last winter?”
“She’s not. Her husband is and he’s dead.”
“And your grandmother,” the D.A.’s assistant said firmly, “Killed him.”
“I’m aware of that but since I have hardly spoken to the woman, I don’t see how that is relevant to me. I’m only cooperating out of respect for my husband and his job. If I were single, I’d rot in jail before I testified.”
“I see.” The tone of the D.A.’s assistant told Willow that the woman didn’t ’see’ at all.
“When do I need to be there and how long should I expect it to take?”
“Monday morning, eleven-thirty. We’ll break for lunch at one o’clock. Depending on how well its going we could be done by then or have several more hours. It really depends on if the defense attorney perceives you as an asset or a liability.”
“And,” Willow said wearily, “If I do this, then I don’t have to go to court?”
“Probably not but you never know. Sometimes people are called, sometimes not. But if we don’t get a deposition, you will be called to testify in court.”
“Then I’ll testify. I’ll see you Monday morning. Bye.”
Willow snapped the phone shut with more force than necessary. Leaving her baskets of freshly picked produce sitting at the edge of the garden, she slowly wandered toward her mother’s grave talking to Portia as she went. Portia, somehow, had become the replacement for Othello that Saige had never had the chance to become.
“Portia girl, I don’t know about this. I don’t want to do it but I want to disappoint Chad even less. What would Mother do?”
The dog looked at her innocently as if to say, “how on earth should I know?”
“Othello?” Willow sank to the grassy mound next to her mother and scratched Portia’s ears as she rambled her thoughts aloud. “What do you think? What would Mother do?” She giggled. “Of course, if I ask you, why can’t I ask mother. I feel like that bookkeeper in the movie about the bookstore owner asking the mother what they should do.”
Chad saw her there several hours later as he turned into the driveway. She lay curled on the ground sleeping under the shade of the tree with Portia chasing butterflies nearby. At the sound of his wheel on the driveway, Portia raced for the fence excitedly.
As he leapt over the fence and strode to Willow’s side, Chad’s face slowly furrowed in concern. Why was she out here? Willow rarely visited the grave unless bothered by something. What was she planning?
He sat beside her, brushing escaped tendrils from her braid away from her face and watched her sleep. Though it made him feel strange and sometimes foolish, Chad loved to watch her sleep. He’d always heard how parents enjoyed gazing on their sleeping children and thought it sounded almost creepy but not any more.
A glance at his watch told him he’d better waken her. Jill would be arriving any minute to pick up the produce and Willow wouldn’t want to be caught asleep. “Willow?” He shook her shoulder gently. “Come on lass, it’s time to wake up.”
Willow stirred murmuring sleepily, “Hmm?”
“Jill will be here soon. Come on, you fell asleep out here.” His hand trailed along her cheek and then tugged on her ear playfully. “Come on, you can do it.”
“I don’t want to get up. It’s nice and warm here.” The words were mumbled and clearly not fully consciously spoken.
He had to wake her up but how was another story. In the house, he’d have dumped water on her head but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do that out here. Finally, he picked her up, set her on her feet, and held her there in a bear hug until she slowly opened her eyes. “Hey lass.”
“Hi,” she murmured sleepily. “What a way to wake up, eh?”
“It’s almost time for Jill to-”
Full consciousness arrived instantly. “Oh no!” She started to run toward the barn but Chad caught her hand.
“The truck Willow. It’s faster and it’ll give you a minute to wake up.”
“Right.”
He glanced at her sideways as they rolled toward the yard. “What were you doing out there?”
She sighed. “Coming to grips with my deposition on Monday.”
“You decided to do it?”
“Well I thought I didn’t have a choice.” The dismay in her voice was clearly evident.
“Well, you can refuse a request- just not a subpoena.”
Willow nodded resignedly. “That’s what I thought. I don’t want to make it hard on you so-”
“You did it for me?”
“Of course!” Her indignation would have been comical if he hadn’t found her actions so endearing. “If it was just about me, I’d let them throw me in jail indefinitely.”
“Sweet sentiment lass but you’d go insane in a prison and beg to be allowed to testify.” He opened her door and smiled down into her eyes. “But I love that you think you would and that you did something so sacrificial for me. I am not ignorant of how much this is costing you personally. Thanks.”
***
Willow expected the deposition to be a lot like her court hearing regarding her birth but it wasn’t anything like that. They sat at a table in a conference room at the courthouse. A young man with a stenograph machine was at one end of the table and Willow sat at the other with the defense attorney on her right and the D.A. on her left.
All feelings of informality disappeared when the D.A. began reciting the purpose of the deposition and the case it related to. The words, “The state vs. Solari” effectively killed the last remnants of her self-possession. Panic rose in her throat leaving bile in its wake. She reached for her tote bag and withdrew a bottle of water.
“May I?”
The D.A. unscrewed the top for her, satisfied that it was untampered with for reasons that Willow couldn’t comprehend. “Certainly.”
“Ok, please state your full name and address for the record.”
“Why my address?”
Willow’s question set the tone for the rest of the deposition. Some questions were indicative of her perception of breached privacy while others were merely curious. The D.A. and defense attorneys were split between irritation and amusement during the entire proceeding.
“You went to his office on what day?”
Willow’s answer was swift. “December 7th.”
“And how are you certain of that date?” The D.A.’s voice sounded bored.
“Because we celebrated my husband’s birthday that evening.”
“Did you make an appointment?”
The questions came in a slow steady pace. Most seemed inconsequential to Willow. Who cared what Steven Solari had done to her? How was that relevant to the case against her grandmother?”
“When did you first speak to Lynne Solari?”
“She came to my house pretending to have a disabled car.”
“Pretending- please define that,” the D.A. requested quickly.
“Actually, she did have a disabled car. She disabled it so she’d have an excuse to come to the house. She admitted it once I confronted her with it.”
“She actually said, ‘Yes, I made this up to come out here?’”
“Not those exact words but very nearly, yes. She apologized and said that she just wanted to see me now that she knew I existed.”
The D.A. nodded as though picturing the scene in her mind. “And when was this?”
“Approximately one week after I went to Mr. Solari’s office.” Weariness grew in Willow’s voice. Her mind was growing muddled.
From questions regarding the attempts to terrorize her to detailed accounts of her every meeting with both of the Solaris, Willow’s memory was tapped with every kind of question. Occasionally, the D. A. would respond with a rebuttal query such as, “Are you aware that Ms. Solari asserts that she did not attempt to deceive you about the reason for her visit?” Willow’s replies were swift and confident. “I think you should question Officer Chad Tesdall as to the accuracy of my statement. I said she confessed her scheme, and she did. He heard the conversation.”
Once the ordeal was over, Willow stood, shook everyone’s hand, and then turned back to the District Attorney. “Ma’am, I have to tell you- I do not want to testify. I can’t imagine how I would be helpful. Please don’t put me in that position.”
As they watched her exit the room, the reporter, the lawyer, and the D.A. all said in unison, “Wow.”
***
Wednesday, Willow woke up vomiting. She barely reached the bathroom floor before she retched uncontrollably. Unable to remember exactly when the last time she’d vomited was, and feeling exceptionally weak, her heart sank. By the time she’d decided to call Marianne for ideas of what to do, another wave of nausea sent her racing for the toilet again.
By the time she’d managed to drag herself downstairs, Ditto was crying for relief. Willow made it to the barn just in time for her to heave into the milk pail. A glance at the phone charger told her Chad had left it beside her bed before he went to work. She didn’t know how she’d get back up those stairs but she had to try.
Another wave of nausea hit in the middle of the yard. She curled into fetal position on the ground, her arms wrapped around the milk pail for dear life and prayed that the Lord would either kill her now or send someone to help. To her utter disgust, she not only lived but no one came until she managed to crawl back upstairs and into bed.
Keeping the milk pail close, and berating herself for not grabbing a clothes pin while in the barn, Willow collapsed on the bed and hit the button to dial Chad. His voicemail irritated her enough that had she had the strength, she’d have thrown the phone through the window. “How did mother handle illness all alone?” she wailed miserably.
The phone rang and Chad’s name flashed across the screen. Just as she clicked it open to answer it, another attack hit her. Chad winced. She was sick. Terribly sick. “You ok?”
“Do I-” she retched once more, “sound ok to you?”
“Oh lass, I’ll get someone to come in for me and be right there.”
“Can you do that?” Willow’s voice sounded doubtful.
“I can do that. Hang in there until I get home.”
Only the sounds of Willow’s illness crossed the airwaves until she finally whimpered, “Hurry- please?”
Chad immediately dialed the Chief. “Sir, I’ve got a problem.”
“Waverly call in sick?” The new officer had called in twice in the past month.
“No. It’s Willow. She’s vomiting and she called for help. I’m sorry sir but she wouldn’t call unless she couldn’t function.”
“Forget that son,” the Chief contradicted, “That woman wouldn’t call unless she was at death’s door. I’ll come in early. You get home.”
Chad was already walking as briskly as possible toward the Police Station. Aiden Cox stared slack-jawed as Chad passed him, sans helmet, on the scooter, again. He tossed the keys at Judith and raced back out the door ignoring her indignant retort.
He heard her before he saw her. How one body could continue to retch the way hers did both amazed and terrified him. “How many times do you think you’ve gotten sick?”
Between dry heaves, Willow gasped, “About five or six when I first got up- it’s all over the bathroom floor. I couldn’t clean-”
“I’ll get it,” he reassured her sounding much more confident than he felt. “Just rest.” Then he saw the milk pail. “If you only got sick five or six times-”
“No, that was just when I got up. Then a half a dozen times in the kitchen, a few times in the barn, and a dozen times or so since I got back upstairs but there’s nothing left. It just keeps trying-” Another wave hit her.
Chad held her head, smoothed her hair, and tried not to lose his own breakfast as he watched her body fight to rid itself of nothing. There was just nothing left. Another whimper escaped. “I begged to die but God rejected my application.”
A low chuckle rumbled over her. “I’m glad He did. I’m very glad He did.”
They talked between waves of nausea. Time passed with aching slowness. Chad didn’t know how he managed to hold back his own gag reflex as she grew sicker and sicker. “What did you eat last?”
“The grilled chicken we had last night, salad, milk, etc.”
“In other words,” he sighed frustrated. “Everything I ate.”
“You don’t feel sick?” She prayed he wouldn’t get it.
“Nope… only when you toss your cookies.”
“But I didn’t eat any cookies.” Confusion in her face was so comical, Chad burst out laughing.
“It isn’t funny-” she began before another wave of dry heaves attacked. As she fought to gain control, an idea hit Chad.
“When was your last period?”
“What?” she gasped between heaves.
“Your ‘monthly’. When was your last-”
“I-” she took deep breaths trying to control the deep urge to hurl once more. “I can’t remember for sure. I think I was due last week though.”
“I think you’re pregnant. Morning sickness. I’ll get you some water and then drive into town for some crackers. I think that’s what women eat. I’ll call mom.”
Willow turned the most disgusting shade of green. “Pregnant?”
“It makes sense. You’re late, you’re puking-”
“You puke?”
Chad shook his head at her. “Surely you’ve heard or read of morning sickness.”
“Yeah,” she whimpered. “I just thought it was fatigue and swelling or something. Animals don’t vomit.” There was the merest trace of indignation in her weakened voice. “I’m thirsty but I’m terrified to try to drink.”
He brought her a glass of water and suggested she rinse her mouth with it. “Spit it back out. Don’t swallow. At least you’ve moistened things. Then if you feel brave, take tiny sips while I’m gone. I’ll be right back.”
With the gentlest kiss to the top of her head, Chad raced down the stairs, out the door and then stopped. He thought he heard her voice. Uncertain, he retreated back into the house, up the stairs, and paused in the doorway. “Did you call me?”
“Ditto,” she wailed. “That poor goat- the chickens-”
“I’ll get them when I get back.”
“I feel a tiny bit better. Get them now.” Willow’s eyes pleaded as she spoke.
“I’ll get ‘em lass and then I’ll check on you before I go.”
“Thanks.”
In the barn, Chad grabbed a pail and raced to Ditto’s stall. Without pausing to wash the teats, he milked the goat in record time earning him a few butts and a kick but Chad hardly noticed. In the summer kitchen, he realized that the milk was contaminated. They couldn’t drink it. He started to pour it down the drain and then thought of the soap. Maybe it could be saved for soap.
The stove was empty. No boiling water waited for him to scald the pail. With a sigh of frustration, he grabbed a kitchen towel, tossed it over the pail, and forced it into the fridge. He’d deal with it all later.
Willow slept with one arm curled around her pail by the time he climbed the stairs once more. He paused. Should he rinse it and clean up the bathroom before he went to town or after? The stench in the room was growing. He slipped the pail from her arm and took it to the bathtub trying not to breathe as he stepped over the mess on the floor. Once clean and free of odor, he stepped out of the bathroom, closed the door, and replaced the pail back in the crook of her arm. With her door shut and the bathroom door shut, the air in the room smelled reasonably fresh again.
Chad raced back downstairs to his truck. Guilt tried to worm its way into his heart but his excitement was too acute to be abated. Pregnant! A baby! Chad couldn’t believe how blessed he was. A wife and a child all within a month! Well, he had a few more months of course, but still! They were going to have a baby.
At the end of the driveway, he braked hard. Pulling out his phone, he dialed home. “Mom? What do you give a vomiting woman for morning sickness?”
“Well, saltines are good, and broth- wait, did you say morning sickness?”
“Yes! Willow woke up puking and we just realized, she’s a week late!” The pride and excitement in Chad’s voice thundered through the airwaves and hovered in Marianne’s heart.
“How bad is it?”
“She’s resting now but she spent a long time emptying a very empty stomach. I need to get something in her that’ll stay.”
“Get some Jell-o too. It’s gentle and it’s comfort food. Oh, and 7-Up. Don’t get Sprite or Slice, get 7-Up. It just works.”
“I like Sprite,” Chad contradicted.
“Get her-”
Chad’s laughter interrupted. “7-Up. I got it. Anything else?”
“A pregnancy test. You’ll want to be sure.”
He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. “Is it important today?”
“Well, I know I’d want one as soon as possible just to rule out something like food poisoning. I mean, she’s late so it’s pretty much a given but it can’t hurt-”
“I have to go to Brunswick then. It’s twice as far both ways.” Chad’s voice sounded uncertain.
“Why?”
“Mom! This is Fairbury. If I buy a pregnancy test in town, they’ll have her baby shower planned before she pees on the stick!”
“I’m surprised they carry them then,” Marianne retorted dryly.
“You’re right. I bet they don’t. Good thinking. Gotta go mom, I need to be back before she wakes up puking again.”
While Marianne smiled to herself and blithely punched the numbers to her husband’s store, Chad tore down the highway toward Brunswick praying that he wouldn’t meet Joe returning from a transfer. No luck. Just as he rounded the bend where he’d totaled the cruiser months earlier, he passed Joe and waved.
Within seconds, Joe was behind him lights flashing. Chad waved his arm out the window but Joe kept coming. Finally, Chad pulled over and pounded the steering wheel. Joe reached the window by the time Chad managed to keep his hands gripped to the wheel instead of trying to pulverize it.
“Hey Joe, I know. Give me a ticket and let me out of here.”
“What- Chad! You’re supposed to be on beat!” Joe was not amused.
“I need to get stuff for Willow. She’s sick and I need the pharmacy.”
Joe flipped his ticket book shut. “Keep it to a reasonable level man. She needs you to get back too.”
“You’re right.” Chad hesitated. He felt almost obligated to explain his mission but he didn’t want the news all over town before he could enjoy it with his wife for just a little while.
“Hey, I’ll be praying for her. Do you guys know what is wrong?”
“Yeah, we think so but we need to be sure. See you later. If you change your mind, I’ll sign a ticket when I get back to work. Thanks Joe.” Without another word, Chad punched the automatic window button, turned on the key, and once Joe stepped away from his truck, eased onto the highway and drove the rest of the way just barely over the speed limit.
***
Willow awoke feeling weak, hungry, nauseas, and with the terrible urge to use the bathroom. Unsteady on her feet, she grasped the bed and dresser with one hand while clutching her milk pail with the other. A glance inside surprised her. It was clean. It didn’t smell.
A smile spread across her face. “He cleaned up for me. What a man.”
She stood confused at the closed bathroom door. Why was the door closed? Willow knocked. She rattled the knob. Finally as cautiously as she could, she pushed it open calling for Chad. Silence greeted her. She took a step forward, she froze mid-air as she realized her mistake. Her foot slid through the previous contents of her stomach sending her careening across the bathroom. She slammed into the edge of the tub and groaned.
“Ow!” Tears sprang to her eyes as her head impacted with the cast iron. “Oh man.” The room spun, her hand groped for the milk pail and grabbed it just in time.
Sounds of feet on the stairs sent her into fresh tears. “Chad?”
Chad, hearing he commotion upstairs, had dropped his bags just inside the front door and bolted upstairs. The sight of Willow sprawled across the vomit streaked bathroom floor holding her head in one hand and her bucket in the other made him wince. “Oh lass, I’m so sorry. I almost cleaned it up and then I thought I could get back faster and clean it even if you were awake. I-”
“I’m coated and it’s making me feel worse.”
Chad grabbed two towels and mopped up the worst of it. Quickly he helped her out of her sodden pajamas and into the tub. While she soaked with bucket in hand, he raced downstairs with the stinky laundry gagging any time he was forced to take a breath. He tossed the towels in the washer, dumped a scoop of dripping laundry soap into the machine, turned it on ‘normal wash’, smelled his shirt, peeled it off, and raced back inside.
Willow was almost asleep by the time the tub filled. He brought her water, crackers, and sat on the floor beside the tub wishing he’d thought to buy some ammonia. “Bleach! That’s what the floor needs. Bleach. Be right back.”
All morning and into the early afternoon, Chad brought her something to drink, something to munch on, dumped her milk pail, and then sat beside her on the bed stroking her hair and praying for her. As the day passed, he grew worried. What would they do if every day was this bad? What if it kept going for several weeks or even the whole time? He’d heard of that.
His phone vibrated in his pocket sending him downstairs quickly to answer it. “Mom?”
“How is she doing?”
“Better, I think. She’s kept down her last few crackers and the Jell-o. The broth was a nightmare.”
“Does sound like it- did you get a test?” Marianne tried not to sound as eager as she felt.
“Got a test but we haven’t taken it yet. We’ve been talking. She’s so excited mom.”
Marianne’s sigh filled both their hearts with delight. “I’m going to be a grandmother! Isn’t she going to be the cutest pregnant mother ever?”
“Mom, you are a grandmother- you’ll just have to wait to meet your grand-something.”
“Child. It’s called a child, Chaddie. Oh, do you want a boy or a girl?” Her excitement was infectious.
“Both?” He laughed with her. “Actually, whichever is most likely easier for a first baby.” He tried to do the math and couldn’t think. “When do you think the baby is likely coming?”
Murmuring as she counted, Marianne finally said, “Mid February to the first of March I think.”
“Oh a Valentine’s Day baby! How fun!”
“Or if she goes overdue, you could be talking St. Paddy’s Day.”
“That’s forever.”
Her laughter turned to howls. “Son, you sound about six years old.”
Willow stirred. “Gotta go mom, she’s waking up. I’ll call when the test is done. Can you scout around for doctors in Brunswick?”
He whispered his love, and then hurried to Willow’s side. “How are you feeling?”
“Weak, thirsty, and hungry.”
“How’s the nausea.”
She shrugged. “I can tell it was there but I think it’s gone.”
“Well,” he chuckled, “I hope you don’t have it that bad every day.”
She stared at him in horror. “Every day?”
“Some women-” he didn’t have the heart to tell her. “Have it more than others.”
“I’d better be done.” The finality in her voice was comical.
“Mom is calling around for a doctor. If it keeps up, they have medications that can help.”
Willow didn’t answer. She was already asleep. Frustrated, Chad carried the box of pregnancy tests back to the bathroom, opened it, and placed one wrapped test on the back of the toilet. He stood in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets, and stared at it. Finally, he forced himself to go downstairs. “You’re acting like an idiot man. Go feed the chickens and get eggs-” The thought of eggs made him smile. First baby chicks and now baby humans. They’d have to start breeding goats, cows, and sheep next.
His eyes widened at the direction of his thoughts. “Oh ick. I’m not going there. We’ll stick to breeding humans. Wait-” Chad shook his head. “That sounds even worse.”
Josh arrived at nine thirty-five. Willow attempted to stifle guffaws as he confessed that he’d driven to Brunswick and back before he decided that wasting gas was not worth the salve to his pride. “Well, come in. I’ve got bread baking.”
“That’s what smells so good- hey, I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Do I have to confess to Chad that I showed flagrant disregard for the speed limit on my way here?”
Willow’s grin embarrassed him. “Not unless he asks…”
“I like you.”
She shook her head. “I think you have other females in mind.”
“I was thinking about her last night. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it but I’ve seen her. She works in the kitchen on Sundays after church. I’ve seen her when I escort the kids to the dining hall for lunch.”
“Well,” Willow said smiling. “I think you should go out and take her for a walk. I’m stuck here and apparently she’s here early.”
Josh hurried from the house and almost reached Becca’s car in time to open the door. “I’ll have to be faster next time.”
“You’re here! I thought-”
“They invited me back and well I-” Josh hesitated. How do you tell someone you’ve barely met that you drove back at break-neck speed in order to see you again without sounding desperately pathetic.
“I’m glad you came.” The words were whispered and the look on her face was pained.
“What’s wrong?”
“Maybe I can explain later. I should go in-” Becca gestured toward the kitchen as if to say, “don’t you want to come in too?”
“Actually, Willow suggested we take a walk. Something about her bread.”
They started toward the field where Dinner the Second and the sheep grazed. He didn’t care to admit it, but the sight of the large animals unnerved him. “How dangerous are cows anyway?”
“Willow says they’re safe. They pretty much leave everyone alone but we only have to cross that corner. We could run for it before they got to us if we had to.” Becca’s voice held a trace of mirth.
“Stop laughing at me. I’ve never been around big game-”
“I’m pretty sure sheep aren’t considered big game.”
Once near the stream, the couple continued to amble along the banks, rarely speaking but communicating much. Finally, Josh’s curiosity overcame him and he sat down in the grassy shade of a tree. “Ok, so you said you’d tell me what’s wrong.”
“Do you know why I’m here- who I am visiting?”
“No, you- no one ever said.”
Blushing, Becca made herself comfortable against the trunk of the tree facing Josh. “It’s kind of a church sponsored ‘Bachelor’. I’m here for a month to see if the guy is the one for me.”
Josh took in her words cautiously. It sounded surreal and far-fetched. “As in like the TV show with a dozen half-dressed women and hot tub orgies?”
“No!” Becca’s face flamed even deeper scarlet. “Nothing like that. We have a chaperone- my Gran actually, and he’s kept himself physically respectful. Well, that sounds wrong. He’s been a perfect gentleman in every sense of the word.”
“So you stay for a month, and then what?”
“I go home. Actually, I go home on Friday.”
Josh didn’t miss the relief in her voice. “Not working out?”
“Well, actually, before yesterday, I would have said it was going well. Now I’m all confused.”
“Did something go wrong?” Josh’s mind tried not to pray, “Please say yes.”
“I met someone else.” Becca’s voice was such a quiet miserable whisper that Josh wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
“You met someone else?”
“I’m not an idiot,” she mentally retorted hotly. “I can sense attraction just as easily as the next woman!” Aloud, she simply nodded saying, “Mmm hmm.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” Disappointment filled her tone. “I don’t want to be foolish and waste what really was the most wonderful month of my life but how do you ignore strong attraction for someone else?”
“Strong attraction eh?” Josh’s voice sounded nearly giddy and his lisp grew more pronounced.
“You’re not helping.”
“So what’s the real question?”
Her shoulders slumped. “What would you think about a woman who invests herself in one man for a month and is ready to turn her back on all that work in a relationship after just a few hours with someone else?”
“What kind of commitment did you make?”
“To come, get to know him, and decide if I want to continue talking to him after I leave. If he asks, I say yes or no.”
A grin split Josh’s face. “So, in other words, this is like a really long blind date with no expectations, just hopes.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She waited impatiently for him to answer and then urged again, “So what would you think if you were a guy who spent a month with a woman and she turned you down at the end because she thinks another guy is interesting.”
“Well, now that I know there is no real commitment, I hope I’d be happy for her.”
“But once she walked, that’d be the end of it,” she said for him. “You wouldn’t take a chance on her if something went wrong later with the other guy.”
“Depends on how much I liked her. I’d rather her find out just how interested you are in him before you invested more in me and then realized after a long time that you were still into someone else.”
“This went from she to me awfully quickly,” Becca joked. “So, am I being way premature?”
Josh studied his hands. The action left Becca feeling foolish. Of course she was being premature. He had hardly shown any interest- she felt it, of course, but it could mean anything and Josh might not be ready for that kind of change in his life.
“I asked you out already, if you remember.”
“That’s no answer.” A wave of irritation sent an unintentional bite to her words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I don’t want to interfere in your-” Josh searched for a word, “thing but…”
“But what?” A new thought occurred to her. “Is it possible that you’re not ready? I mean, I totally understand-”
“I wasn’t until yesterday. If you had asked me, I would have been adamant- no romantic entanglements. Period.” A smile grew slowly across his features. “But I was wrong.”
“Were you?” A grin grew until her eyes fairly sparkled.
“What is this guy like?”
“Everything I ever thought I wanted in a husband and more.”
“But you are willing to risk throwing it away on someone you have only spent an afternoon with?”
“I’m unwilling to risk that I throw away what I’ve been hoping for on the wrong man.”
***
Chad arrived at two o’clock and found his wife and guests laughing at her attempts to work the spinning wheel. Her hands worked to hold the wool, pull, and still work the treadle. Clumps had slowly diminished and now she had thick yarn with occasional clumps. Splicing the yarn was trickier. Becca and Josh spent half of their carding time giggling over the quirky way Willow stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she tried to twist the fibers back into the broken yarn as yet another piece broke.
So concentrated was Willow on her work, she didn’t hear Portia yapping happily, the screen door slam against the doorjamb, or the titters of Josh and Becca at the look of amazement on Chad’s face.
He bent low near her ear and murmured, “How are you doing lass?”
Willow jumped, her hand flying into the air and whacking Chad’s chin as she did. “You scared me!”
“Well, I made enough noise coming in…”
She put down her wool, stood from the wheel, and moved to make him a sandwich and reheat a bowl of soup. Chad’s face furrowed in concern as he noticed a slight limp in her step. He pointed at the wheel. “How long has she been using that thing?”
“Only since around eleven or so. Is there a problem?” Chad’s face left Becca feeling concerned as well.
“She over did it- repetitive motion. Her muscles and nerves are probably killing her.”
“Why-”
“Accident last summer. She spent a lot of time in therapy and I’m guessing that motion isn’t one she practiced.”
He left them staring slack jawed at him and went to bully his wife into a chair while he fixed his own sandwich. “Lass, I’ve got it. Sit.”
“I’m fi-”
“You are not. Your leg is killing you, I can see it.”
Willow shook her head protesting. “It’s just unused muscles. I’m fine.”
“I can see pain in your eyes lass. Rest. I’ll rub that calf as soon as I get some food in me.”
The front screen creaked and then banged shut. Willow retrieved the oil can from the pantry and walked to the living room before Chad could stop her. Within seconds, the screen no longer squeaked. He tried not to let his frustration show. He relied on that squeak to let him know where she was and what she was doing.
“How are things going with those two?”
She gave him a smile he usually only saw in the most intimate of moments. “Do you think she’ll let me make her dress? I’d love to try to make a wedding dress.”
“Seriously? You think-”
“They remind me of us- but different. There’s this electricity in the room whenever they’re there. I don’t know how else to describe it.” She paused trying to find words she couldn’t imagine. “Like- like- you know, when you shuffle across the house in your socks in winter and then touch the doorknob. That-”
“Static electricity.”
“Yes!” she exclaimed relieved. “That’s what I mean. It’s in there, with them, all the time. It’s fascinating.”
Chad didn’t want to disappoint her but he could see her building romantic hopes for her new friends and didn’t want to see her hurt. “You know, sometimes that’s all there is- it’s called attraction, infatuation. It doesn’t always grow into anything more substantial.”
She nodded sagely. “I can see that. Endorphins. That’s what Mother called them. She said that they controlled happiness, crushes, and something else. I can’t remember.”
“Crushes?”
“It was when I went nuts for Bill that year when I was fifteen. She explained it all and I saw that it was just a natural chemical reaction that God built into-”
“Enough. I can’t stand to hear it,” Chad said wearily. “Your mother was so amazing in almost every area of her life but when it came to male-female relationships, she knew how to strip the God-given joy out of things.”
“Well,” she retorted giving him a playful look that he recognized all too well. “I learned a lot from her but I’ve had other teachers in my life too as you well know.”
“Just give me that calf and let me try to work out the kinks before it turns into a sore mess and a Charlie horse,” he growled.
“Oh, my leg isn’t kinky. Not at all. It’s just tired.”
Chad rolled his eyes heavenward and shrugged at the Lord. “What can I say, Lord. What can I say?”
***
After dinner, Chad brought up the mail. In it was a large package from Boho full of fabrics for the following spring. “They sent you more fabric? Didn’t you just finish with fall?”
“Lee says that they’re trying to get on a normal schedule. Apparently they try to be a full year ahead of current time. If they’re selling spring/summer now, they want spring/summer done for next year too.”
Before Chad could give his idea on that score, the sound of tires crunching in the yard interrupted them. He glanced out the window and groaned. “Adric and Becca are here.”
“Wha-”
“I think Becca needs some advice and from what I can see, Adric looks a little lost.” Chad tugged gently on Willow’s braid bring her eyes to meet his. “I’ll take him if you can handle her.”
“It’s a deal. Oh, and I intend to do some crying later. I feel it already. Thought you should know.”
“Dully warned milady,” Chad acknowledged with a goofy sweeping bow.
“That’s lass and don’t you forget it.”
“Yes’m- Hey Adric. Good to see you guys!”
Adric opened the door for Becca and ushered her inside. “Becca needed-”
Before Adric could finish, Becca with tears streaming down her face, rushed at Willow and threw her arms around her. “I’m so confused.”
“Come on Adric, why don’t we go take a walk and let the women talk.”
Willow, not knowing what else to do, led Becca to the couch, wrapped her arms around the weeping woman, and just held her. The minutes ticked by until finally Becca quieted to an occasional sniffle. Willow reached around her and handed her a box of Kleenex.”
“I thought-” Becca sniffed again, “I would have assumed you’d be big on handkerchiefs.”
“I am. Chad isn’t. He compromised a lot to move here… you know, no electricity, lots of hard work, goat milk which he hates but drinks because he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings…”
“He hates the milk?”
“From the faces he makes when he doesn’t have his guard up, he hates it. Doesn’t mind the butter, cheese, yogurt, or ice cream but the milk…”
Becca gave a half-hearted laugh. “That’s funny.”
“Something isn’t funny in your life. Am I crazy to suspect it has to do with Josh and Adric?”
Becca’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “Am I insane? What is wrong with me? I have a wonderful man who is genuinely interested in me. He’s everything I ever wanted. He has invested in me this month and I know he’s going to want to keep corresponding…”
“But you find Josh attractive.”
“I find Josh attractive,” she admitted. “What do I do?”
“In five years, if you are married to Adric and things are going badly for whatever reason, will you wonder and regret not at least seeing if there was anything to consider with Josh?”
Willow’s question wasn’t what Becca expected but immediately, it gave her the answer she needed. “I’d regret it before trouble hit if I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”
“If Adric is the reasonable man that I think he is, he’ll understand. He’ll be hurt- he might not even realize he’ll understand, but he will. If you spent time with Josh for six months and then decided he wasn’t for you and Adric still hadn’t found the right woman, I think if you contacted him, he’d be willing to at least meet to discuss it.”
“But isn’t that kind of using him?” Becca’s pleasing tendencies were tearing her apart.
“Not if he knows up front. Not if you don’t string him along while you get to know Josh. From the way you’ve described it, he’ll ask to continue correspondence, and you can choose yes or no. Tell him no and tell him why. He’ll know you won’t be playing with fire while pouring water on it at the same time.”
A strange look filled Becca’s face. “I have no idea what that means but I get the gist. I think.”
***
“Something’s wrong Chad, I can sense it. I’m not the most intuitive man but it doesn’t take one to see the difference in the past two days.”
“This is a difficult process Adric. I imagine for women, it is even more difficult- all those emotions…”
“I know it’s crazy, but I started to care. I’m not head over heels but-”
“I know exactly what you mean. It’s what I felt for about two or three weeks before I fell in love with Willow.”
“When did you know?” Adric’s voice seemed simultaneously resigned but curious.
“The Friday before the wedding when you came over to talk to her about the property situation.”
“Huh?”
Chad grimaced. He still felt foolish over his illogical flash of jealousy. “You were out here talking to her and she was so concerned about you, your situation- I watched the two of you and I’m not stupid, she’s an appealing woman.”
“So jealousy pushed you over the edge?” Adric’s voice was filled with amazement.
“Something like that.”
“I’m sure you know- I mean I hope you know that I’d never-” The thought was repulsive to him no matter how much he admired Willow Tesdall.
“I knew. I just realized at that moment that my irritation with a pesky woman that had grown into brotherly affection had moved beyond tentative caring and into a love I cannot describe but am thrilled to have.”
“That’s what I keep waiting for but I’m not so sure-”
“I don’t know,” Chad began hesitantly, “if it’s the right thing to wait for or not. I just don’t know. I do know that we would have had a glorious life if neither of us ever lost our heart completely. You don’t need it to be truly happy. I’m just blessed that I have it.”
Adric kicked at the dirt for a minute and then told Chad about a man he’d met in Ferndale. “Allison, from April, she took me to her Saturday morning Bible study and there was this man there- Silas.” He paused remembering the story and amazed at how much he desired what Silas had while thinking the man was crazy.
“Silas met this girl- a lot younger than him. Not just in years but maturity wise, you know? She’s so far beneath him it’s not funny but he loves her. I’ve never seen anything like it. She left him, he took her back. She goes out with other men, he waits. Until the day she marries someone else, he’ll never quit hoping and trying.”
“And you wonder if that’s rare or worth holding out for.” It wasn’t a question. Chad understood the appeal a picture like that would give but he couldn’t encourage his new friend to toss aside the chance at a good life in order to hold out for something that while appealing, could potentially destroy him.
“I don’t know if Becca is the one for you or not. I do know, that if she is, or if this Allison is, or any of the other women you’ve met, it won’t be just because you can’t stand not being with her. I think that’s probably a little rare- especially for a man.”
Adric nodded. “You’re right. It was so amazing to watch but-”
“I will say that I’d rather marry someone I know I can trust, respect, and enjoy spending my time with even if I didn’t have the crazy mixed up love for them that I have for Willow, than to marry someone who after twenty years, makes me wish it was over rather than wish for another twenty.”
They wandered through the greenhouse, out to the gardens, over to the pasture where the sheep were enjoying an evening trough of liquid refreshment, and then back toward the house. As they neared, Adric paused his jaw working so much that his teeth ground together mercilessly. “Do you think Becca is going to turn me down?”
“For what, marriage?”
“No, to keep corresponding. Something is wrong. I’d just like to know what I did wrong.”
Chad chose his words carefully. “I don’t know that you did anything wrong, man. Even if she isn’t the woman for you, aren’t you glad you had a month with her?”
“I am but-”
“Then be thankful for your month and forget about what you can’t control. Trust the Lord in this one. Trust him.”
“You’ve got to be a good ten years younger than me, Chad. I’d give anything for that kind of faith.” The exhaustion in Adric’s voice was very telling.
“You have it. You’re just weary. Rest in the only One who can give you true rest as your brother-in-law always tells us.”
As Adric and Becca drove away, Chad and Willow waved from the front porch. “Is she going to turn him down?”
“Yes.” Regret hovered around Willow’s single word.
“He’s going to be so disappointed.”
“I wonder if she knows that Josh switched work days with one of the ladies from the store.”
Oh my word… I read all the entries, loved every one, I was torn for ages, but then… today… I read the latest.
Michele- your story of milking that cow. I can so see Kari doing that! I can see her ready to kill the goat. I can just see it. And of course, then to get disgusted using her hard work and pain to make soap…
I have to choose that one. I can see it in my mind.
Congratulations and I’ll order those for you next week!c
