Noble Pursuits is hitting the Post Office!!

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!

Chapter 96- Part 2

“Something is bothering you.”

Lost in thought, Chad nodded and gave her a non-committal shrug.  “Sounds interesting.”

His blatant departure into another time and place amused her.  Mother had done that quite regularly and until now, Willow had forgotten how enjoyable it was to see another side of someone when they didn’t realize they were showing it.  She’d never noticed how a crease formed between his eyebrows when he was thinking.

“Did you say something?”

“I said,” she responded with studied patience, “that something is bothering you.”

“Not really it’s just-”

“That something is bothering you.”

Chad smiled at her tone.  “Ok, ok.  I guess you could say it that way.  I just keep forgetting about your money.”

“Money?”  Money wasn’t something Willow thought of very often.  Frankly, she’d ignored the quarterly statements Bill sent faithfully.  “What about it?”

“You have it.  Lots of it.  I forget that.”

“Good.  So do I.  Who cares?”

He was reminded, once again, just how clueless she was regarding money and its affect on her life.  “Who cares?  Willow, your lifestyle exists because of that money.”

“I don’t understand that.”

“I know you don’t but I do.  I understand it and it’s hard for me.” 

His admission confused Willow more than ever.  “Why is it hard for you?”

This Chad didn’t know how to explain.  How do you tell your fiancée that you resent her disproportionate contribution to the family coffers?  He had very definite ideas of marriage.  The idea of a life with separate accounts was repugnant to him.  All that was left to him was to determine which was more revolting- her money in his account or his and hers accounts.

“I hate this.  I don’t know how to explain it but I’ve never imagined a marriage where there were separate accounts but I can’t imagine this marriage with access to this kind of money.”  Chad flicked the credit card Bill had sent across the table.

“This is about the card?”

“This is about what the card represents.  It represents more money than I’ll make in my lifetime.”

Willow shook her head frustrated.  “No no.  If you make fifty thousand a year for forty years, that’s two million dollars.  I have around that much now so that just doesn’t make sense.”

It seemed insane that she could grasp the simple math of their respective financial situations without understanding what any of it meant in the real scheme of things.  “But while I’m making my much less than fifty thousand a year your money is growing.”  He winced and slammed his fist on the table rattling plates and sending a few nervous glances their way.  “Sorry.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t.  It’s something I forget about and then kick myself over.”

Willow watched the agony go through is features for several minutes before she finally tossed her hands in the air.  “I’ve got it.  It’s simple.  Your dad earns the money; your mom keeps your house right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll give Bill the accounts.  You earn the money.  I work the farm.  We’re what you’re used to.  Everything’s fine.”

He didn’t know how to make her understand.  Bill wouldn’t just accept her accounts and that money was like life insurance- she needed it.  With his job, there was risk.  Yes, it was a smaller risk than most officers faced, but even Fairbury had experienced its own murder spree and more recently, Willow’s stalker.  It could happen again and this time, an officer- yes, even him- could be hurt.

“You can’t do that Willow.  I need to know you are provided for if something happens to me.”

“Well, I’m not going to think about that,” she insisted dismissively.  “We’ll just let the accounts do their thing and forget about them.  We don’t need money from them.  Between what I grow and what you-” she paused searching for the right word, “protect, we’ll have plenty.  The accounts can just grow and we don’t need to think about them.”

How simple for her to put them aside as though a book she didn’t care to read but didn’t want to dispose of either.  “I can’t forget it that easily-”

“Why not, I do.  I have several unopened statements at home right now.  It’s simple.  File and forget.”

Dessert arrived and Willow attacked it ravenously.  “I’ve been so hungry for hours.”

“They sell food at the alley.”

“It smelled funny,” she complained chagrined.

“Funny how?”

Willow shrugged.  “There was a lot of oil and it smelled rancid.  I wasn’t interested but I drank a lot of water.  It helped me not feel so hungry.”

They ate in silence.  Each moment ticked by as though there was nothing pressing on them, nothing bothering Chad, nothing confusing Willow.  She watched as he struggled with things that she was sure she’d never understand and wondered why life outside the farm seemed so much more complicated.

“Chad?”

“Hmm?”

Willow waited for him to raise his eyes showing her he was out of his reverie.  “If you could choose the perfect scenario, what would it be?”

“You mean financially?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about it.  There was no easy answer.  He wanted it not to be an option for consideration.  Had he known any other woman, he’d have bought life insurance and prayed for the best.  “Realistically?”

“Of course.”

“I’d wish the money was never a consideration but that’s not possible so I guess-” he shoved his spare hand into his pocket as he took a bite of his cheesecake.  Chewing took every ounce of his concentration until he had to swallow and answer.  “I just wish Solari- no, that’s not true either.  It could be an inheritance from your grandfather and I’d still feel the same way.”

“Well, technically it is an inheritance from my grandfather.”

Once more, silence hovered until both Chad and Willow ordered it away simultaneously.  “Ok-”

“Well-”

Chad smiled.  “Go ahead.”

“Tell me something,” Willow began nervously. “What would happen if we didn’t get married?  Would you still come and see me?  Would we still play Chinese checkers, go fishing, and sit on the porch swing in the summer?”

“Not get married!”  Now all eyes were on them once more.  “What are you talking about?” he added much more quietly.

“I just thought that this is such a big deal that maybe we need to forget about the wedding thing.  This wasn’t an issue before.”

He’d thought, well assumed- no hoped that marriage was becoming more than a convenient living arrangement.  Her apparent nonchalance nearly sickened him.  Anger followed.  Did she really think so little of their relationship?  They were affectionate now! 

The memory of a handful of kisses told him she must hold some kind of deeper affection but her attitude- and her face.  Look at her face.  Willow’s eyes were earnest, her face placid, her demeanor calm.  What was she thinking?

“Are you serious?”

“I think maybe its best.  You won’t let me give it away, you don’t want me to have it without you, and you don’t want it.  What other option is there?  We go back to our regular friendship.  Not that much was changing anyway.”

He couldn’t believe his ears.  He shoved several bills onto the check tray and stood.  “Are you ready to go?”

“Sure.”

The drive home was painfully silent.  Chad drove with scrupulous conscientiousness to all traffic and speed laws before he turned into her driveway.  As he braked just to the right of the farmhouse, he jerked his head toward the windows.  “There’s a storm coming.  I see the craft room windows open.  Night.”

Smiling broadly, Willow stepped from the vehicle.  “Night Chad.  See you tomorrow?”

“If you want.”

“Of course I want you ninny.  Isn’t tomorrow your day off?”

“Yeah.  Engagement pictures tomorrow.  I’ll call Wes.”  Chad choked on the words.  How on earth had this happened?

“Ok.  I’ll make breakfast around seven.  Night.”

Chad spun in the driveway kicking up more dust than ever.  All concern for driving safety flew out the window and dissipated in the flying dirt and small gravel rocks.  Willow stood on the steps until his tires squealed on the highway.

With Chad safely gone, Willow’s forced cheerfulness and self-control evaporated.  She sank to the bottom step, lifted her face toward the night sky and wailed, “How is it that man can destroy my happiness from the grave!”

Then, the tears flowed.

Chapter 96- Part 1

The anticipation surprised him.  Around the curve, turn left into the driveway, just a few more seconds and he’d go over that slight hill into the driveway and see the light- Where was the light?  Was Willow ok?  She never got sick but the lights were always on when he topped that little hill.

The house was too chilly for Willow to be home but he hadn’t gotten a call from her.  Concern rose in his throat.  The danger was over.  Where could she be?

A note tacked above the sink sent shockwaves of relief over him followed by disbelieving chuckles.

Chaddie,

I hereby confess that I have taken myself to Brunswick for bowling practice.  I hope you get off work in time to come join me but otherwise I’ll start home around six o’clock.  I have a flashlight attached to my bicycle so it’ll be ok.

Ryder said he’d take care of the animals.

Missed you today,

Willow

P.S.  Do you know what happened to my phone?

“I don’t believe this,” he muttered.  Chad had expected her to go back quickly but the next day?  Her determination amused him, her stubbornness frustrated him, but her zest for life… there was nothing like it.  He’d never have a dull life no matter how ordinary and mundane it might seem to outsiders.

He spent the next forty-five minutes changing clothes and racing to Brunswick.  Willow bowling again was something he refused to miss.  Her bike stood proudly in the bike rack unchained and unmolested.  For now.

Inside, there was no hint of her anywhere.  He wandered up and down the lanes and then back to the counter.  “Has a young woman, twenty three, green eyes, probably in jeans and a really bad bowler?”

“Willow?”

“Yeah,” Chad felt stupid.  Of course, she’d introduce herself.

“She’s probably in the bathroom.  She’s been bowling non-stop since eleven-fifteen-” he paused.  “There she is!”

Chad was already on his way to greet her waving a thankful and friendly hand at the man.  Jake Martens watched amused as Chad called to Willow and then jogged to meet her at her lane.  The way they hugged briefly, with no kiss or lingering touches, made Jake assume relation.  He’d worked the alley for ten years.  He knew girlfriends and fiancées when he saw them.  Willow had a ring but it wasn’t this guy’s.

“So you found my note.  Good.  I was thinking about asking how to find a pay phone.  Mother used them sometimes I think.  I didn’t see any but I thought maybe…”

“How are you doing?”  Chad glanced at the scores displayed and shook his head.  “You’re staying over fifty it looks like-”

“I got a strike once but I didn’t get credit for it.”

“Why not!”  The defensive posture Chad took was particularly endearing to her t the moment.

She glanced at him sheepishly.  “Well, I sort of got it in that lane instead of this one.”

“What?  How on earth- Only you…”

Chad’s arm draped across her shoulders and he pulled her to him for another hug kissing the top of her head.  Jake noticed and his brow furrowed.  That wasn’t very brotherly behavior but engaged couples just weren’t that comfortable with each other without being more physical.  He’d never seen anything like it.  Maybe he was her brother.  Maybe she almost died or something.  Yeah.  That must be it.  She was his little sister who almost died from leukemia or lupus- or Lou Gregory’s or whatever that thing was called.  That was it.  Jake felt better having sorted the not-so-sordid details of Willow and Chad’s past and future.

“Be right back.  I’ll get me some shoes.”

“But I’m tired.  I need food.”  The sight of Willow nearly pouting almost sent him into a hysterical collapse.

“You’re tired and want to eat.  How many games have you played?”

“I don’t know.  I just kept playing them until you got here.”

Chad shoved his hands in his pockets.  “It’s six o’clock Willow.  What if I hadn’t come?  Would you have stayed until midnight when they closed?”

“Of course not.  I was leaving after seven o’clock.  I wanted to be home before midnight.  I have to be up early!”

He shook his head.  “You are seriously insane.  Certifiably crackers as my grandma would say.”  Waving at the lane, he urged, “Throw the ball.  If you want to eat, you have to finish the game.”

“I swore I’d get a strike today though,” she hesitated.

“Well, you did.  You didn’t get credit,” every ounce of strength held his chuckle at bay, “But you did it and that’s what counts.”

“Right.  Can you pay for me?  My card’s in my tote bag- actually, there’s a card in there with your name on it too.  Bill sent it and there’s a letter.  Might as well use your card.”

Confused, Chad opened her tote bag, feeling quite uncomfortable rifling through her personal things, found the envelope, and withdrew it quickly.  Anything to get out of the equivalent of her purse.  His mother had been adamant about no one ever opening her purse.  Period.

The letter was brief and showed him yet again why Kari had trusted Bill Franklin with the management of her finances.

Willow,

I realized that with all of the wedding preparations, the expenses, and possible travel for a honeymoon, that Chad might need access to your accounts.  Therefore, I’ve added him to your credit account and have ordered a card, which I’ve enclosed.  If you’d rather not do this, return it to me and I’ll remove his name immediately.

You will need to take care of name changes, if you do that, as soon as possible.  It’s a hassle so having Chad on the account before the wedding will really make it smoother for one of you to have access with I.D.

Hoping your plans are going well.  I’ll be there, on time, and if there is anything I can or should do, please let Mari or I know.

Always,

Bill

The VISA card felt heavy in Chad’s hand.  Money.  It wasn’t something he’d considered but she had money.  Lots of it.  Much more than he’d ever earn.  She didn’t live like it, act like it, or even realize it and that had made it a non-issue.  Until now.

“I’m ready!  Look, I got a nine!  I just missed that center one somehow both times.  How do you get all but the center pin?”

Chad smiled weakly at her.  “Only you Willow.  Only you.  Let’s get out of here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know for sure.  Let’s just go.”

Jake watched them as Willow returned the shoes, the laces tied into perfect bows, and then pulled out her wallet to pay for her games.  “How much do I owe you?”

“Sixty-five dollars.”

“What!”  Chad stared at Jake as if he’d gone insane.”

Jake nodded.  “Twenty-one games at three bucks a game is sixty-three dollars.  Two dollars for shoe rental. Sixty-five.”

“How did you play twenty-one games?”  Chad’s indignant voice could be heard across the alley.

“Easy!”  Her voice, on the other hand, was nearly full of gloating.  “Two balls.  Half-way through I figured out that if I had two of the same ball, I didn’t have to wait for it to come back.  Much faster.”

Chad stared at Jake as he counted Willow’s money.  “I have the next thirty to sixty years to figure this woman out and you know what?”

Jake shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s going to be long enough.  Either that, or she’ll be the death of me.”

“She your fiancée?”  Jake’s surprise was evident.

“Yep.  Best thing that ever happened to me.”  Momentarily forgetting the financial sword hanging over the fine hairs over his head, Chad grinned at her.

“I had you pegged for brother and sister.”

“That too!”  Willow quipped innocently.  She waved her fingers at the men and backed toward the restrooms again.  “I need to wash the hands.  They get so dirty!”

“She doesn’t really mean-” Jake began as though compelled to ask.

“No!  Oh no.  We’ve just been such good friends for so long.  And well, we’re Christians too so there’s the whole brothers and sisters in Christ thing.  She’s been a little sheltered so sometimes she says things that only make sense in her world.”

He hated himself as he said it.  He didn’t need to make excuses for her.  What was wrong with him anyway?

“I figured it was something like that.  None of my business anyway.  Sometimes I think before I speak but not usually.”  He hesitated.  “She is different though, isn’t she?  It wasn’t just my imagination.”

“Willow is different.  Very different.”

“You’re a lucky guy.”

Willow pushed through the bathroom door at that moment.  One glance at her reminded him of the girl who’d entered the station nearly a year before and he nodded.  “I am one immensely blessed man.”

Chad waved at Jake, took Willow’s hand, and led her through the building to the side door closest to her bicycle.  As they strolled outside, Jake saw Chad tug Willow’s braid teasing her about something, and then heft an old-fashioned bicycle into the back of a pick-up.  She waited, slightly impatiently, it seemed to Jake’s eyes, for him to finish, settle the bike comfortably, before he opened her door.

Jake observed Willow smiling at Chad as he helped her into the truck.  Just as he thought he might see a glimmer of something else, the floodlight shining on the scene burned out leaving Jake literally in the dark on the status of what kind of relationship they truly shared.  Frustrated, Jake returned to disinfecting rental shoes.  League bowling began in an hour.

He sighed.  League bowlers were more predictable than Willow.  He’d seen them a million times.  He knew their stories inside and out.  This couple was different.  Jake loved people.  He loved to watch them, see what made them connect, and even what tore them apart.  What this couple had was something he’d never seen and he wanted more.

Jake’s mind replayed that last smile and he shook his head.  “Wow.”

Chapter 86- Part 1

 

“What- when did you get home?”

The children rushed in behind him surrounding her and telling her about the killer game of hide and seek, the pizza lunch, and how Chad was caught because he almost forgot to put on the roast.  Willow sent them upstairs to change and then out to the barn to do a new load of laundry and bring in the one she’d started.  Once they were gone from the kitchen, she returned to her project.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not while you’re still mad at me.”

“I’m not angry.  I was afraid and nervous- I worried like crazy but I am not angry.”  His voice near her ear startled her sending her pen flying across the invitation and ruining it.  “Oh I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean-”

She smiled into his face startled at its nearness.  “I- it’s ok.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

Willow ran her thumb between his eyebrows smoothing a furrow there.  “I just told him we’d let people know to publish the contents of those journals if anyone that I care about is harmed.”

A whistle of admiration escaped before Chad could help himself.  “You’ve got cheek girl.  I’ll give you that.”

“I just couldn’t risk them hurting you or your family-”

She stood to check the roast her hands trembling as she reached for the lid.  Her hand jerked back and she rushed for the sink splashing cold water on a nasty burn.  Chad stood confused for a moment.  Willow didn’t make mistakes like that- surely he’d imagined.  But no, there she stood tears of pain and frustration pouring down her face.

“Can you get me a bowl of snow?”

“Bowl of snow?”

“Feels good on burns.”  She glanced at his confused face and shook her head.  “I’ll get it.”

He grabbed a bowl and rushed out the door looking for a clean patch of snow.  As she dried her hands, she forced herself to ignore the pain.  “Can you get a potholder and pick up that lid?”

Chad ignored the lid and pushed Willow to the table. “Just sit down and soak that hand.”

The pain was almost unbearable.  Knowing how heavy her lid was and trying to steady her shaky hand, she’d grasped it firmly wrapping her entire hand around the knob without thinking.  “Can you break me a piece of the aloe plant in the windowsill?  I need to get something on it,” she gasped trying not to whimper.

The aloe barely soothed before the burning began again.  Looking at the blisters that were already popping, Chad shook his head.  “I’ll call in the kids.  I’ve got to get you to Urgent Care.  This is bad.”

“Oh the things I’ll do to go for a ride with my Chaddie.”

“Oh yeah, she’s hurting,” Chad muttered under his breath.

***

The week dragged.  Willow was ready for the children to be gone by Sunday afternoon.  Tuesday, Chad took them to his mother’s to give Willow a break and by Thursday, she wanted to cry with frustration over the slightest problems.  Her hand still hurt terribly anytime she tried to use it making her impatient and mentally snappish.

Friday afternoon, she disappeared into her bedroom and closed the door.  Curling under her quilt, she poured out her frustrations to the Lord.  Chad found her there around dinnertime, fresh tears on her face and dozing.  His hand carefully brushed her hair from her face and wiped the teardrops that clung to her lashes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered without opening her eyes.

“What for?”

“Being so ugly.”

Gently, his hands stroked her cheek, her temple, and occasionally pushed a stubborn strand of hair back from her forehead.  “No one could ever accuse you of being ugly Willow.  Inside and out, you’re one of the most truly beautiful people I know.”

“Who else is beautiful?”  She honestly didn’t care.  His voice was comforting and soothing and she wanted more than anything to keep him talking to calm her screaming nerves.

“Aunt Libby.  Mom.  Alexa Hartfield.  Uncle Zeke. Luke.”

“Wow.  Those are some big name to fit in.”

“I think your mother was incredibly beautiful too.”

“She was.”  The sniffles began again but Chad came prepared.  Pulling a large unused wad of Kleenex from his pocket, Chad pushed it to her.  “Thanks.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“No.  It’s selfish, immature, and I don’t want to give you any reason to want to run out of here.”

“I’m not running.”

She rolled to face him clutching the pillow to her as a child might a beloved teddy bear.  “They’re so noisy.  Ellie wants something from me every minute.  The boys are always pushing and jostling each other- and they like it!”

“That’s called childishness.  It’s what children are.”

“But my hand hurts, my head hurts, my nerves are raw, and I haven’t had time alone with you in forever.”

This was a very promising admission.  “Well, we did spend part of Saturday alone…”

“In the car to and from the doctor.  Gee, that was thrilling.”

“You’re flirting with me Miss Finley.”

A tiny smile curved around the corners of her mouth.  “Well, I tried.”

“The children miss that.”

“They do?”  Her eyes widened.

“Sure.  As gross as it seems to them, it’s a child’s security to know that the people around them love each other and are committed to one another.”

She sat up, knees to her chest and arms around her knees.  “Why gross?”

“Well,” he commented dangerously as he caught her curious eyes.  “I distinctly remember you finding ’smashed lips’ ridiculous at best and you were particularly disgusted by the notion of swapping spit.”

“I didn’t see any spit in North and South thank you very much.”

His grin was nearly diabolical as he leaned even closer and whispered.  “Is that your measure of all kisses?  Will I be sent to Siberia if my kisses don’t measure up?”

“Ask me once I know what they’re like.”

Chad stood, shoved his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the dresser observing her closely.  “That almost seems like a challenge.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Very carefully, Chad grasped her wounded hand and pulled her to him.  He waited for her to meet his gaze and smiled slowly at the wide-eyed expression on her face.  Willow swallowed hard watching him as he lowered his head ever so gently, and then giggled as he pressed his lips softly to her injured hand.

Then, Chad winked.

Chapter 69- Part 2

***

Doors slammed and excited voices squealed.  Suddenly the house was filled with a din that woke Willow from a sound sleep.  She scrambled from her bed and peeked down the stairs.  Aggie’s children.  Why hadn’t she thought about them?  She hadn’t brought anything for them except for Vannie’s dress to be sent back with Luke.  Of course, he’d bring his fiancée to ‘Christmas’ morning with the family.

As quickly as possible, Willow threw on her skirt, sweater, and slippers.  She pulled her hair, a hopeless tangle, into a quick ponytail and hurried to wash her face and brush her teeth.  Chad emerged from his room looking sleepy and grumpy.  “What’s the racket?”

“Aggie’s children just arrived.”

With a bear yawn, Chad hurried to brush his teeth.  “Go hold the baby or something so they’ll gimme a minute to wake up.”

She dodged walking under a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the hall light and hurried down the stairs.  Chad took it as a challenge and though she was unaware of it, the game was afoot and he had every intention of winning.  “Merry Christmas to me!”

Aggie handed Willow a sleepy baby Ian and hurried to corral the littlest twins down in the basement.  Luke piled two plates of food from the breakfast buffet and herded a few more children after her.  “Aunt Marianne, we’re going to keep an eye on the little guys downstairs until Vannie and Laird are through eating.”

“What about the little ones, do you need help fixing plates or something?”

“Everyone but the four of us ate at home.  Blood sugar drops and car rides aren’t fun.”

Willow listened to the discussion as she watched the baby sleep.  He’d been learning to walk the last time he was at her house but hadn’t let go of the furniture.  She wondered if he was bolder now or still holding onto things for stability.  Somehow, that thought reminded her of herself.  Learning to walk in this new world of people and friends but still holding onto the security blankets her mother kept them wrapped in for so many years.

Libby entered knocking and calling out ‘Merry Christmas Year!”

The sight of Willow snuggled in the corner of the couch with baby Ian warmed her heart.  Wrapped in her own little world of baby cheeks and tiny hands, Willow didn’t hear or notice when Libby shoved several packages under an already overloaded tree.

“He’s a sweetie isn’t he?”  Libby’s whisper and the brush of the back of her hand over Ian’s hair caught Willow’s attention.

“Aggie let me hold him.  Wasn’t that nice?  I didn’t know they’d be here or I would have brought- well, something!”

“Can you imagine their house with just a ‘little something’ for each child?  If we all did that, they’d go home with a hundred new things to find places for.  I’m glad you didn’t know and I’m sure that’s why Marianne didn’t tell anyone.”

“But to be opening gifts- how cruel to the children to be left out!”

“They’d be happy for everyone else.  They got their gifts already.  The littlest ones might struggle but I think it’d be good for them frankly.”  At Willow’s shocked face, Libby added, “But don’t worry, they’re just staying for breakfast and then going on over to Zeke’s.”

“So they won’t be here-”

“No.  You can stop devising gifts from thin air now.”

Willow visibly relaxed and sank further into the couch.  “I’ll just sit and hold this little man then.  He snores sometimes.  Isn’t that cute!”

“Looks like someone is ready for a baby or two around her house.”

“If they were all like him, I’d take twenty and have them delivered tomorrow morning.”

Libby’s laughter brought wrinkles to the baby’s brow and he snuggled even more closely to Willow.  “I think you’d find twenty baby boys to be more than even you could handle.”

“I don’t suppose Aggie thinks she has her hands full enough and wants to let him come live with me?”

Chad watched the conversation from the dining room doorway.  He couldn’t hear the words but from the look on Willow’s face, she was enjoying her first ‘baby fix.’  Libby’s expression was indulgent and slightly teasing.  He hoped his aunt would plant a seed in Willow’s mind.  Watching Luke with Aggie’s children and the paternal air it gave him was heartwarming.  Maybe…

“Mom, did you see this?”

Marianne turned from the buffet table and watched the scene before her.  Chad watched Willow as she smoothed the baby’s hair, brushed a cheek, or let the child’s hands curl around her finger.  Libby needed to talk to her.

“Libby, can you help me in the kitchen?”

***

“Are you sure you guys don’t want to come with us?”  Marianne paused and waited for Chad and Willow to answer.

“I don’t think so mom.”

“Thanks Marianne but I don’t think I’d make it until midnight.”

Christopher, carrying two bowls and a plastic sack full of something, urged her out the door.  “Let’s go!  I don’t want to miss the sports blooper reenactment.”

The house settled into a quiet hush once the door closed behind Chad’s parents, Cheri, and Chuck.  Willow leaned her back against the couch and covered her eyes.  “Rough day?”

“I had fun.  Aggie’s children were so much fun.”

“You seemed to enjoy little Ian…”

She nodded with a slight smile hovering about her lips and making her appear as though she had a secret.  “I loved how he smelled and the way he just seemed to melt into me.  I always dreamed about having two sons.”  She paused.  “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“That if I would just quit being so stubborn, I could have them.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Willow,” Chad whispered.  “I thought I made it clear that I was talking about a marriage with separate bedrooms- at least for a while anyway.”

“Am I that repulsive?  Libby spent half the afternoon telling me how I’m not trusting God and His plan for His creation.  How he made men to need this stuff and I’m just not doing my part-”

“She said what!”

Willow sat brooding over the words Libby had spoken to her.  “You heard me.”

“Yes, but I don’t believe you.  Aunt Libby would not tell a girl it was her duty to marry anyone so he could fill some animalistic urge to feed his own lusts.”

“Well she didn’t say that-” Willow admitted.

“What exactly did she say?”  His heart was heavy.  Chad felt like he’d put Willow through more pain and discomfort to prove himself right.

As Willow struggled to remember Libby’s exact words, she realized that she’d deliberately taken the encouragement and twisted it in her mind to make it into something she could reject.  The realization sickened her.  “Oh Chad.  How despicable.”

“What is?”

“I chose to hear her words so that they’d be repugnant to me.”

He wanted to comfort her.  His first instinct was to move to her side, take her in his arms, and hold her assuring her that people do that when they’re scared or uncertain.  However, seeing this side of her caused him to hesitate.  Perhaps he’d been too eager.

“Aww Willow-”

“I’ve driven a wedge between us.”

“No you haven’t.”

She nodded.  “I did this with Mother once when I thought she was being too stubborn about me going to Rockland with her.  I thought I wanted to see the city-”

“That probably didn’t go over well.”

“I was ugly.  Probably the result of usually getting my way in everything.  Mother was adamant.  I accused her of lying about her attack, that she made trips to see my father and was just keeping me from him.  I can’t think about it without getting sick.”

“Oh Willow.”

“See.  You’re pulling away from me just like she did.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“No, and a week ago,” she insisted, “You wouldn’t be sitting across the room from me afraid to come near me.”

Chad sighed.  He wasn’t ready for drama.  “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything to change.”

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and then gestured for her to join him.  “Come here Willow.”

“You’re not going to talk me into-”

“Hush and come here.”

“My you get bossy when you don’t get your way,” she tried to tease as she crossed the room tentatively.

He pulled her to him and realized they just wouldn’t fit in the chair.  Exasperated, he stood, punched the CD player, and began to two-step around the room by himself, his arms empty and awkward looking as they held an imaginary person.  Willow watched for a moment and then finally gave in and asked the obvious question.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing.”

“But you can’t dance alone.”

“No, but right now, you’re more comfortable dancing with yourself and that leaves me dancing alone too.”

She watched as he held the air and danced around the room in time with the music.  At the end of the song, he made motions as though dipping his partner, which sent Willow into stitches.  “Oh Chad.”

He crossed the room and stood looking down at her.  “One of my favorite movies has a scene where a man describes dancing as a conversation between two people.”  Chad paused before quoting the line directly, “‘Talk to me.’”

Instinctively, Willow knew Chad was communicating more than a request for a dance.  “I’m afraid.”

“I won’t lead you anywhere you aren’t ready to go.”

“Even-”

He held out his hand, his eyes earnestly encouraging her to take it.   “Especially there Willow.  Especially.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Willow stood, placed her hand in his and smiled tentatively.  “As you wish.”

As Chad pulled her to him, an impish glint filled his eyes and he glanced upward.  Willow’s eyes followed and the sight of a sprig of ribbon festooned mistletoe.  Her eyes flew to his face and widened as he leaned in to kiss her.  A nervous giggle escaped when his lips brushed her forehead lightly.

“I told you Willow, nowhere that you’re not ready to go.”

Chapter 69- Part 1

“They’re here!”  Cheri’s called through the house as she raced to the car.  “I’m so glad you came!  Here, let me take some of those!”  To her brother, she sent an irritated look.  “You need a real car bro!  She shouldn’t have to ride all the way out here smothered in packages!”

“Actually, they kept the hot air off of my face.  I get so sick with that.”

“I didn’t know that.  Why didn’t you say something?”

“Well, she began, “My mother taught me it was rude to complain.”

Cheri carried the packages as she led the way into the house.  Chad waited until she’d disappeared through the doorway and leaned down to whisper, “Another reason to get married.  It’s not complaining when you’re sharing a preference with a husband.”

“That’s just semantics and you know it.  One day it’s ’sharing’ and the next it’s nagging.  I’ve read too many books with harpies for wives.  No thanks.”

“Hey, come on in you two!  It’s freezing out here.”

Chad and Willow stared at each other before dissolving into laughter.  Kissing Marianne’s cheek as she passed by under the mistletoe, Willow said, “Thanks for having me Midge.”

“Midge?”

Chad followed kissing his mother’s cheek and glancing around the room as he did.  Perhaps strategic placement of mistletoe would help melt the fearful icicles around her heart.  “While You Were Sleeping.  You’ve been watching it again.”

Once she shut the door behind her, Marianne hugged her son. “Merry Christmas.”

“Happy New Year mom.  Oh and,” he leaned closer whispering, “I talked to Willow about dad’s suggestion on marriage.  Maybe you or Aunt Libby-”

“Not interested?”

“More like terrified.”

“I’ll hand her over to Libby then.  She’s better with firm and compassionate.  I seem limited to one or the other.”

The sound of laughter from the living room send Chad and his mother looking to see what was so amusing.  Willow sat blushing on the couch and Christopher looked smug. “Got her.  She was watching doorways but missed the ceiling fan.”

“Good one dad!”

“I think Willow looks exhausted.”

“It’s been a long week,” she admitted blushing further.

Christopher’s eyes shot to Chad’s face while Cheri bustled Willow the stairs and into the guest room.  “Chad?”

He shook his head holding up one finger until Willow reappeared to brush her teeth and then finally closed the bedroom door behind her.  “There was the thing with the dog, the thing with the money, and she’s still upset about the idea of marriage.”

Marianne joined them with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies.  “So you asked her, told her, got an opinion, what?”

“I told her what dad said about playing house-”

“I was a little harsh, I admit.”

Shaking his head, Chad continued.  “No dad, you were right.  I was really mad that day.  See, part of it is that you don’t know how things are and it was just too easy to rest on that fact instead of seriously consider your concerns.”  He swallowed.  “I had myself convinced until I realized that I left my deodorant at her house and decided to leave it there for when I needed it.”

“With all the work you do there, that makes sense though, Chad!”  Christopher didn’t understand his son’s logic.

“But I felt perfectly comfortable just doing it without a second thought.  I didn’t have a reason in mind outside the fact that I’m there.  A lot.  And I’ve been there every night this week.”

“I’d hope so.”  Marianne didn’t want to ask the question but someone had to be willing to ask the difficult things.  “You were in separate rooms…”

“Yes mom.”

Snuggled together on one corner of the couch, Chad saw a picture of him and Willow twenty years in the future with the possible exception of Willow’s size.  He couldn’t imagine a chubby Willow.  Finally, Marianne’s voice broke the awkward silence that had begun to grow.  “You really aren’t in love with her, are you?”

“No, mom.  I’m not.”

“Why not!  She’s a beautiful, intelligent, very well shaped woman!  She has everything going for her, you enjoy her company-”

“And he spent the first several months of his time with her resenting her,” Christopher added.  “I think he’s just letting himself see her as a friend and still holding her aloof for whatever reason.”

Chad hadn’t admitted it to anyone let alone himself but his father was correct.  “It’s the end of my dream.  It’s selfish and despicable but it’s true.”

“What dream Chaddie?”  Marianne couldn’t stand to hear the pain in her son’s voice.

He felt like a heel.  It sounded selfish and immature but as much as he’d embraced the changes in his future, they also represented the death of his childhood dreams.  “Ever since I can remember I wanted to be a cop on the streets of Rockland.  I wanted to be one of those guys busting gangs in the inner city or negotiating hostage situations.”  His head dropped into his hands.  “As much as I want a life in Fairbury and with Willow, that life means there’s no chance for the life I’ve worked toward for so long.”

Marianne started to rise and go to her son but Christopher jerked her back to her seat.  “In other words Chad, you won’t let yourself fall in love with the perfect woman for you because you are throwing a tantrum over what you can’t have.  You can have it all except something that strokes your pride but that’s not enough.  You want the house in the country with the fishing stream, the gorgeous wife, and the respect of your community, oh, and a high profile job in the city.  All at once.”

“I know.  I said it’s despicable.”

“It is.  It’s understandable,” Christopher conceded, “But it’s selfish.”

His fists clenched tightly as he struggled.  In a feminine burst of intuition, Marianne stood, shoved her husband’s restraining hands away, and sank to the floor at Chad’s feet.  “That’s not it Chaddie.  It’s a lie.  You’re lying to yourself out of some misplaced self-preservation.”

“But-”

She grasped her son’s face in her hands and held it gazing into his eyes.  “It’s a risk to open your heart.  You’re right.  She may never reciprocate your affection.  You happened to choose a girl who has reason to both be leery of men and not see any benefits to marriage.  Love is a risk as well as an action.  It’s rolling the dice on the craps tables over and over and over until you finally get the right numbers even if it bankrupts you in the process.”

“Marianne!”

“Crass analogy but it’s the best I can do.  Shut up.”  She waved her hand dismissively at her husband who chuckled behind his hand.  Marianne’s occasional feistiness always tickled him.

“It’s not that.  I’ve always wanted a family and Willow is-”

His mother clamped a hand over his mouth and shook her head.  “You can lie to yourself all you want but you’re not going to lie to me.  You’re afraid of love for some reason and I’m not letting you up out of that chair until you admit it.”

He fought it.  Repeatedly he started to argue and then ground his teeth forcing himself to keep quiet.  His mother would surely give up if he just refused to talk.  Her ideas were ludicrous and ridiculous.   Why would he be afraid of love- and besides, he did love Willow and had already admitted it.

Arguing with himself, he finally realized that it was no good.  They’d seen in him something he’d never been willing to acknowledge.  It frightened him to think he was so vulnerable.  “I can’t-” he whispered.

“Just face it Chaddie.  You’re letting some fear paralyze you and it’s going to hurt both of you in the long run.

“Mom- I can’t stand the idea of being in love with someone who doesn’t love me,” he admitted in a rush of words.

“Well it’s not a problem.  Even if Willow never falls madly in love with you, and frankly, I think if you actually tried to win her affections she would, she does love you.  It’s evident from a million sides.  She looks to you for leadership when she doesn’t know what to do; she tries so hard to please you and does it all without losing her own identity.”

“Maybe you should marry her.”

“I would if she was the right gender and I wasn’t already stuck with that old lug!”

“And don’t you forget it Mari.”  Christopher leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees and his ands clenched.  Chad recognized the ‘this is the only time you’ll hear this from me’ stance.  “Son, you haven’t even given either one of you a chance to fall in love.  You’ll have to try.  You’ll have to show her marked attention, all the way from her appearance to overt flirting.  You should be very good at that.”

“Why?”

“Because you come from two very sappy parents who would love to give you a demonstration of how it’s done if you think it’ll help.”

“No thanks Dad,” Chad insisted.  “I think I get the gist.”

Marianne and Christopher cleared the coffee table of their chocolate mugs and tray and said goodnight to Chad.  “Pray son,” Christopher admonished.  “Pray that you will know not only what the Lord’s will is, but how to act on it.”

Chad did.  He prayed.  For an hour, he poured out his fears, his hopes, and laid them at the Lord’s feet.  He sat with his hands over his head as though protecting himself from a verdict he didn’t want to hear as he meditated on every scripture he could bring to mind.

Cheri saw him from the stairs after she realized he hadn’t gone to bed and crept down beside him.  “When I was in the pit that summer, I thought I would die.  I prayed I would die.  I begged the Lord to release me every day and every day, the Lord said no.”

“How did you know it was no?  Were you hearing voices at that point?”

She stroked his buzzed head and delighted in the familiar prickly feel.  He’d worn his hair buzzed since the day he got his driver’s license.  “I knew it was no when I woke up in the same situation the next morning.”

“Why didn’t you quit praying for it?  Why put yourself through that torture?”

“Because Chad, I knew that it might have been the Lord’s will for me to live another day with the struggles I had but I didn’t want another one unless I had to.”

He turned his head to meet her gaze.  “And I assume there’s a corollary to this?”

“When Jesus prayed for deliverance, He meant it.  I trusted in that every single day that I prayed that same prayer.  I believe with all my heart that His prayer to escape the coming trials was heart-felt and sincere.  He wanted out.  However, if out wasn’t the best, He wanted the strength to endure whatever ‘in’ would bring.

“Chad, your ‘in’ is nothing compared to Golgotha.  Your ‘in’ is the difference between winning the lottery or winning the Publisher’s Clearing House.  One of them will cost you something.  Not much probably, but something.  The other costs next to nothing- a stamp.  Both are huge blessings.  Don’t tear up your winning ticket or your entry just because you wanted to win at slot machines instead.”

“What,” Chad chuckled, “Is with you and mom and the gambling analogies?”

“Well, they fit for one thing,” she explained.  “And we just watched Ocean’s Eleven which might have influenced us a little-”

“Go to bed.  And thanks.”

“Just a hint laddie.”

“Hmm?”

Cheri grinned.  “Save your announcements until after Luke’s wedding.”

“It’ll take that long to get her to agree.”

“Even so,” she began.  “If she says yes tomorrow, wait.  Luke is always in the shadow of those girls and even us.  Let him have this stage moment.  He’s so proud of that family of his.”

“Gotcha.  You’re right.”

Cheri grinned.  “I’m always right.  It’s about time you noticed that.”

“Go to bed.”

Once certain that his family was in bed, Chad turned out the downstairs lights, taking note of all of the mistletoe festooned places in the downstairs area of the house.  He slowly climbed the stairs and quietly opened Willow’s door.  The hall light illuminated her room just enough for him to see the rise and fall of her back as she slept.  He sat on the edge of her bed and prayed for her.

She stirred and rolled over on her other side facing him.  Her hair was unbound and covered her face irritating her as she slept.  Her hands fidgeted around her face trying to push the hairs out of the way until finally, Chad tucked them behind her ears.  The restlessness settled and her breathing grew slow and even again.

With a sigh of resignation and a heart heavy with concern, Chad kissed her temple and left the room closing the door behind him.  “It all sounds so easy when everyone says it but…,” he complained to the Lord.

Chapter 66- Part 1

“What are you doing here!”  Willow’s voice sounded more pleased than confused.

“I go in at ten but at seven I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I decided to come out here.”  He glanced above her doorway, sighed, and kissed her cheek.  “Mind?”

“Well, I shouldn’t since I put it up there.”

“No, silly,” he protested laughing.  Do you mind me intruding on your Christmas Eve?”  The pile of journals on the floor by the couch told him he’d interrupted a memory fest.

“Oh, I thought you meant the mistletoe.  Of course you’re welcome!”

“Just a second, I forgot something.”  Chad hurried to his truck, brought several beautifully wrapped packages into the house, and stuffed them under the tree.

“You created beautiful packages!”

“Not really.  Melba Torquin wrapped them.  She’s a bit steep but it helps supplement her income and keeps her in heat during the winter so we all take our packages to her house.”

Chad hunkered down on his heels and read the tags on Willow’s gifts.  He finally found the one with his name.  “It’s either a copy of your mother’s journals or a book you think I should read.  The shape gives it away.”

“I’m not saying anything more than that you’re wrong on those two accounts.”

Chad shrugged off his work coat and stuffed his gloves in the pockets.  His belt he hung next to them and then offered to heat some cider.  At the kitchen doorway, he turned back to her.  “What’s with all the mistletoe?  There wasn’t any yesterday.”

“I just put it up a bit ago.  I wanted your parents to feel at home.”  She looked a little nervous about what that might mean to the Tesdalls.

“Willow, they’re not going to make out in the middle of your living room.  No worries.”

“Make out?”

With a shake of his head, he refocused on heating cider for them.  How do you explain making out to someone with no concept of why you’d want to do it in the first place.  A thought crossed his mind.  He stood in the doorway and waited for her to notice him there.

“Making out.  Definition.  Smashed lips leading to lip lock and then culminating in swapping spit and finally tonsil hockey.  Often includes various methods of cuddling that I’d rather not get into right now.”

“Kissing.  Got it.”  A silent pause followed and Chad nearly burned his hand when her voice called out from the living room, “Did you really just say swapping spit?”

He carried mugs to the couch and handed her one.  “In older vernacular, yes.”

“I thought old was smooch.”

“Do you really want to sit here and discuss the sixty-six terms for kissing in the English language?”

Her eyes widened in amazement.  “Are there really sixty-six-”

“Oh hush and drink your cider.  What are you doing tonight?”

“You just told me to hush,” she protested laughing.  “I can’t do that and answer your questions at the same time.”

He smiled at her.  “I missed you.”

“I saw you last night.”

“For ten minutes max.”

Her brow furrowed, she leaned closer to him sending his panic buttons into overdrive.  As he floundered for a way to get out of an intimate situation, Willow sniffed his cider.  “Doesn’t smell fermented but-”

“Oh knock it off.  I’ve hardly seen you since Wednesday and we’ve kind of gotten to be a nice habit of mine.”

Willow set down her mug and crawled across his foot to grab his present from under the tree.  “Here.  It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I’ll be here before mom and dad are!”

A pleading look filed her eyes.  “I think I’d rather you open it now if you would.”

Chad grinned.  “Good answer.”  Reaching under the tree, he pulled his gift from the pile and handed it to her.  “Open yours.  I think you’ll like having quiet to enjoy it anyway.”

She held her gift waiting for him to open his.  “Go on.  I’m getting impatient now.”

Chad carefully fastened the edges of paper and folded it carefully beside him.  Inside the box, in a thick bed of quilt batting, the fly case lay reflecting the firelight of the candles all around him.  “Oh Willow-”

“I thought maybe you’d like something for your apartment but I didn’t think you’d want something stitched and my painting skills are very primitive.”

“Did you make this case?”

“Mother did.  For my sixteenth birthday.  I thought about buying something for the flies but I wanted you to have a piece of Mother too.”

His heart filled with emotions he wasn’t ready to decipher.  He leaned across the couch, hugged her tightly, and whispered, “Thank you,” in her ear.

Willow nodded.  “There is a condition.”

“What’s that?”

With sly smile, she nudged his knee.  “You have to actually use them- preferably with me.”

“Deal.  Open mine.”

She teased the bow, ran her fingers over the smoothness of the metallic paper, and simply drove him crazy as she enjoyed the textures of the package.  Finally, taking pity on him before Chad burst, Willow released the tape on one end and slid a box from its wrappings.  She lifted the lid, folded back sheets and sheets of tissue paper, and lifted the dulcimer from within.

“Oh Chad!  Where did you find- How did you know- What-”

“Actually, there’s kind of an embarrassing story behind that dulcimer?”

“Embarrassing to you?”

Chad nodded.  “Yep.”

“Let’s hear it,” she demanded impishly.

“You’re so bad.  I was thinking about the instrument thing after we talked that night and I decided that now was a perfect time to learn a new instrument so I went online and found-”

“You’re going to have to show me the online thing.  I’m really sick of Alexa’s book.”

Chad chuckled and continued ignoring the interruption.  “-the perfect dulcimer.  The pictures were beautiful.  It said, ‘assembly required’ but I didn’t think anything of it.  I thought, pegs and strings and stuff.  It arrived in precut pieces.”

“You made this?”

“Assembled it.  Yep.  I went to Luke’s a few times when I should have been sleeping and he instructed me.  I kind of hoped he’d take over and do it for me like he did when we were little but I guess he figured that game out.”

Her fingers plucked the strings.  “Oh it’s horribly out of tune.  I wonder how to make them sound right?”

Chad rifled through a few of the packages and pulled two out that looked nearly the same size.  “Oh Willow, I’m sorry.  I don’t know which one goes with that.  I didn’t think to tell her to mark it some way other than your name.”

Even as he spoke, she slowly tightened strings until a better sound, however off key it still was, resonated from the instrument as she plucked it.  For several minutes she plucked, tuned, plinked, and tuned some more.  By the time she was finished, the strings plinked harmoniously if not in the exact notes it was designed to play.

“I love it Chad.  How did you know I’ve always wanted a dulcimer?”

“I didn’t,” he confessed.  “I just tried to think of what instrument fit you and your life and a dulcimer did.”

Her hands fingered the smooth surface of the instrument.  “It’s so beautiful…”

Chad put his case back under the tree, retrieved the dulcimer and placed it under there with the other gifts, reached for her Bible and handed it to her.  “Your turn.”

“For what?”

“To read Luke.”

Willow’s eyes filled as she took the Bible.  “But I never-”

“You can’t read any worse than I do.”

“I don’t.  I’m a much better reader actually.  I’ve just never-”

Chad laughed as she realized what she’d said.  “It’s ok, I know I’m not very good at it.”

“Mother always read,” she explained.  “I don’t think I’ve ever read the Christmas story aloud.”

A fresh wave of understanding washed over Chad.  He settled comfortably in the corner of the couch, and motioned to her.  “Come here.  I’ll help.”

She handed him the Bible as she slid across the cushions but he didn’t take it.  Instead, he pulled her close, rested his hands on her shoulders, and encouraged her once more.  “Go on, read it.”

“I-”

Chad’s voice, low and soothing, urged her.  “Come on.  It’s not Christmas Eve without it.”

She read.  Every other sentence was punctuated with a sob, a sniffle, or the choked sound of her voice trying not to sob or sniffle.  It was truly the most endearing and horrible reading of the passage Chad had ever heard.  As she finished, he enveloped her in a warm hug.  “I’m proud of you.”

She relaxed weeping occasionally until the clock chimed a quarter till ten.  “You’ve got to go.”

He nodded, stood, and donned his gun belt, jacket, and gloves.  “Get some sleep if you can.”

“I’m glad you came Chad.  It’s like my first Christmas without any family but family is here.  Not everyone has that blessing.”

He crossed the floor, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed the top of her head.  “Well this family isn’t going to stand for you being alone on Christmas.  We’re funny that way.”

“Merry Christmas, Chad.”

At the door, he turned, smiled, laid his finger aside of his nose, winked, and shut the door behind him.  Her laughter reached him outside when she heard his voice cry out, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

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Chapter 55- Part 2

***

Chad found her sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by a fabric catalog, paper, pen, and a couple of letters- in shock.  “Willow?”

“I can’t believe it.  I just can’t believe it!”

“What!” 

With a dejected gesture, she waved her hand at the mess on the table and dropped her head on her arms.  Chad picked up the letters and read them.  The letter from the Finleys while lacking in the warmth and urging he hoped they’d show, encouraged him.  Perhaps Willow was on her way to being a part of her family.  However, at the sight of the check and the letter from Steven Solari, Chad’s blood pressure reached dangerous levels.

“What an absolutely inexcusable-”

“I know!  How could I have done something so stupid!”

“Aww Willow, it’s not your fault.  You didn’t tell that reporter anything-”

Her shocked face stopped him.  “Reporter?  What are you talking about?”

“Solari’s letter.  His contacting you is unconscionable.”

“Oh that,” she dismissed.  “I’m still processing those.”

“Well,” Chad tried again, “If that’s not the problem, what is?”

“I was so upset about it all that I went through my fabric catalog, wrote down every piece of fabric I liked and bought them all!”

“This is bad why?” 

Willow’s shocked face searched his for signs of intelligent life behind Chad’s eyes.  “Let me rephrase then.  I just spent over three hundred dollars on fabric that I don’t need just because I didn’t want to think about the implications of those letters.”  As he opened his mouth to reply, she added quickly, “And I called to place my order!  We don’t do that!”

Despite a heroic attempt to suppress them, chuckles followed her horrified ejaculation.  “So she is a normal woman after all!”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s common knowledge, Willow, that a significant portion of American women deal with stress by their favorite sport- shopping.”

Her amazement was evident.  “What am I going to do with three hundred dollars worth of fabric?  I don’t need any clothes for ages yet!”

“Make them for someone else.  Make clothes for Aggie’s children or for Christmas presents, or make quilts or whatever else you can do that you do but you never let yourself do that you wanna do…”

“But three hundred-”

Chad picked up the Solari’s check.  “Well, you could always cash this…”

“That is just- it’s just- just not funny.”

Changing the subject, Chad made a show of sniffing the air.  “Do I smell chicken soup?”

“Yeah.  I almost forgot to add the vegetables.”

“Is that bread?” 

She tossed him the potholders.  “Here.  It’s probably done.”

He’d underestimated the effect her mini shopping spree had on her  Silently he pulled the bread from the oven, ladled soup from the Dutch oven, sliced and buttered the bread, and cleared the table for dinner.  As he worked, he saw some of what his father had warned him.  His natural inclination was to wrap an arm around her shoulders and reassure her but now-

Impatiently he brushed aside his new misgivings.  He’d take it to the Lord later but right now, she needed a bit of strength that she couldn’t manufacture for herself and subconsciously, she was probably expecting it.  As he placed her bowl in front of her, he sat on his heels at her side and draped an arm around her shoulders.  He waited for her to meet his gaze and then smiled into her eyes.

“It’s ok Willow.  You can afford an occasional extravagance.  Be thankful that it won’t mean not eating for a month and let it go.  Now you know you’re just as vulnerable as the next person and you’ll be prepared.”

As she took a bite of her soup, she grinned back at him.  “Maybe I should be stupid more often.  This is nice.  I wasted my day moping about those letters.  My snow day was a bust.”

“It’ll snow again.”

“But it won’t be the first snow.”

Chad remembered an entry from Kari’s journals about snow days.  “Oh, I think you can just pretend like this one didn’t happen.  You weren’t even home when it started snowing so you really should wait for one where it’s actually snowing.”

“That’s cheating!”

“Not,” he hedged, “If you make the rules.”

***

That night, in his apartment, Chad prayed.  For what seemed like hours, he poured out his heart to the Lord regarding his own life, Willow’s life, and whatever their relationship was.  His father was right.  He saw her as another little sister to pester, protect, and occasionally pamper.  He treated her much as he had Cheri when she’d returned from what he called, ‘the pit.’

Something, however, wasn’t right in his spirit.  He knew his father’s cautions had unsettled him on another level.  He bared his soul to the Lord and took a peek at himself wondering why the idea of Willow marrying was so distasteful to him but found no answers.  He didn’t love her.  Well, not as he saw his father loved his mother.  So many confusing thoughts whirled through his mind but always returned to the same question.  What would happen if Willow did marry?  The idea that once would have sent him clicking his heels for joy as he escaped the confines of a friendship he hadn’t sought, now filled him with dread that life could change so drastically.

He flipped open his phone.  As he waited for Luke to answer, Chad grabbed the last Coke from his fridge and settled into the corner of his couch with his free hand massaging his temples.  “Hey Luke.  Got a few?”

“Couch is open.  Will this be cash or credit?”

“How’s my tab?”

“Staggering but I’ll let it slide,” Luke agreed with mock reluctance.”

“You have the gift of giving.”

“But not the gift of gab so why don’t you do the talking?”

Luke had a fairly good idea what Chad’s problem was.  He’d watched the interchange between Chad and Willow and the reaction of his aunt and uncle.  Things were getting interesting at the very least.

“Of course, it’s Willow again.  You were right to send me back here and I thank you.”  Chad waited for Luke’s response but then smiled as he realized if he waited, his minutes would be flying off his phone.  “Dad thinks I need to be there for her as well but-” He sighed.  This seemed so logical when he was thinking to himself but aloud it sounded strange.

For ten minutes, Chad shared the conversation he’d had with his father and then with the Lord. He told Luke about his misgivings at the idea of Willow marrying and that the longer time went on, the more convinced he was that perhaps he shouldn’t marry.  “That’d take care of one of us anyway.  Maybe if I was just upfront with her.  Would it sound weird to tell her, ‘Look, you’re like my other little sister and I want to keep treating you like that but if you ever get married, I’m probably going to have to change how I show it’?”

Again, silence reigned.  Each minute that passed sounded like a cash register’s ‘cha-ching’ in his ear.  Finally, Luke answered.  “I understand Uncle Christopher’s concerns and I think they are valid.  I also see your point and yes, that’d probably work but before you say anything or change anything in your relationship…”

Chad waited again.  He waited.  And waited.  “Yes?”

“I think there is something else you could consider.  It’d solve both the problem of how you respond to Willow when she marries and how you respond to the fact of her marriage.”

“That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”

“Well actually-”

“Now, now, don’t get all wrapped up in the details, just give me your solution oh wise Swami of mine,” Chad teased as he relaxed sinking into the couch again and feeling like life was all right again.  As a child, he’d always felt that if mom or dad couldn’t solve a problem it was ok.  That’s what God made Luke for- his own personal problem solver.

“Marry her yourself Chad.”

“Oh not you too!”

A pregnant pause passed before Luke continued.  “I’m not talking about heart throbs and romance although I recommend them highly…”  Luke cleared his throat.  “I just think that a good friendship like yours is a good enough reason to marry.”

“Marry so that no one else can. Somehow that doesn’t sound very ‘giving myself up for my wife’ kind of thing.”

Luke tried again, pausing often to reconsider his words and choose them carefully for best impact.  “Chad, you love Willow.  You love her in the most important way for a husband to love his wife.  You serve her.  You ‘agapae’ her.  This is exactly what she needs.  That is giving yourself up for her and you do it daily.  You’ve done it since the first day you drove away from her farm, to Ferndale, and bought that cell phone so she wasn’t alone and unable to get help if she needed it.  You didn’t want to go but you did.”

He took a deep breath.  This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear and Chad wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anymore.  “And ten years down the road when she meets the man she should have married- the man who can love her both as a servant husband and as Solomon, she’ll resent me for removing the chance for her to have the kind of marriage she should have dreamed about her whole life.”

Luke’s quiet calm voice came across the line and touched Chad’s heart in a way it had never before been affected.  “Chad, once she marries you- or anyone else for that matter- there is no ‘man she should have married’ down the road.  And, perhaps the reason she hasn’t dreamed of the perfect romantic ‘happily ever after’ fairytale is because the Lord was preparing her for a life with a stodgy old guy named Chad.”  He paused.  “I’ll send a bill next week.  Night-”

“Wait, there’s something else.”

“Now what?”

Knowing he was setting himself up for major teasing, Chad forged onward bravely.  “I got Willow’s Christmas present in the mail today and there’s a problem.”

“What is that?”

“It’s not assembled.”

Laughter rang out across the airwaves and taunted Chad as Luke retorted, “Then assemble it man.”

“It’s wood.”

“That was low.  Wood as in raw wood, wood as in screw together wood, or wood as in, stain it and go?”

Chad grinned.  He had Luke interested.  He needed that advantage before he confessed his goof.  “Well, kind of all three minus the screws but add the glue.”

“What is it?”

“A dulcimer kit?”

Sighing, Luke replied sarcastically.  “Why do you sound like that’s a question and you don’t know.”

“Because I’m waiting to be bashed over the head with it.”

“Why did you buy a kit?  You always hated models.”

“I didn’t know I did.  I went back to the website after I bought it and in tiny print it says, ‘not assembled.’  Apparently that means it’s a kit rather than you need to string it and pop the pegs in and you’re ready to go.”

Luke’s response was disheartening.  “You’d better get to work.  It’s just barely a month away-”

“Will you help me?”

“Will you take Leith home while Aggie and I are off wherever we end up going after the wedding?”

Chad grinned.  A week with a teenaged boy and no women to complain about what they ate.  This would be fun.  “Of course!  That’ll be great.  What are you doing with the other kids?”

“Well, I don’t know.  I’m trying to find a way to send a few here and there so that it’s not too much work for any one person.  Mom’ll keep whoever is left but I don’t want to over work her and I want to be gone for a couple of weeks so-”

“What about Willow?  Think Aggie would let them go to Willow’s farm?  I think they’d have fun.”

“I’ll get back to you on that.  On a scale of one to ten, what do you think she’d say to a request like that?”  Luke held his breath expectantly.

“Nine point five at the lowest.”

“I’ll stop by sometime this week and look at your mess- er gift.”

“Will I ever be out of debt Luke?”

“Start praying.  If Aggie says yes and Willow agrees, we’ll call you paid in full.”

“Yes!”

Chapter 55- Part 1

Saturday morning Willow awoke to sun streaming through her windows and a few inches of snow on the ground.  Wrapped in her favorite robe and feet swaddled in wooly warmness, she stood at the window and enjoyed the beauty of fields of snow.  The dusting over the tree branches gave the farm the feel of fairyland and she sighed contentedly at the sight.

Willow loved snow in the fields and hated it in the yard.  What looked like a white blanked of cotton over fields looked like a slushy mess after a few tramps to the barn, chickens, and back.  The first day of snow was always a treat in the Finley home.  On that day they ignored the extra work, extra mess, and concentrated on the beauty because the rest of winter would demand they pay attention to it.  They made snow ice cream, drank hot chocolate, ate chicken soup, and huddled next to the stove reading, knitting, or daydreaming.

The clock struck seven.  If she didn’t get a move-on, the day would be gone before she could relax and enjoy it!  Willow pulled on her favorite jeans, t-shirt, and chamois flannel blouse.  As she hurried downstairs, her fingers expertly braided her hair into a long French braid.  By the backdoor, her boots and over boots sat ready for wear.

By the time she left the kitchen, the stove was crackling, the tea kettle warming, a bowl of dry oats waited for the kettle and a Dutch oven of water sat waiting for heat to do its job.  Outside, Saige barked her welcome and rolled playfully in the snow.  Ice containers waited for a trip downstairs to the ice cellar.  She shivered in the brisk air but knew that with a few minutes work, she’d warm up enough to shed a coat if she wore one.

Grabbing the snow shovel from the barn wall, Willow cleared a strip from the chicken yard and threw open the door.  The huge thermometer on the side of the coop read twenty-six degrees.  “Kind of cold ladies but there’s some bare dirt out there if you want to run around-” The birds were out of their coop before she could say cold.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you-”

In the barn, she spread a fresh layer of straw in the stalls opposite the inhabited ones and moved the animals across the aisle.  Water, hay, a little grain for the cow and the barn animals were all set.

Willow grabbed a chicken, container of soup, and packet of dog meat from the freezer, poured some milk in the cat pans and glanced around the barn with one final look.  She hadn’t seen the barn cats for a week or two but they’d be waiting for milk again now that it was cooler.  A mouse scurried from one hay bale to the next.  “They’d better catch that thing or I’m cutting off their room and board,” she muttered as she slid the upper barn window open and then shut the door.

In the house, she poured water from the tea kettle into her cup and added her tea ball.  Barely covering the oats with boiling water, she set a plate on top and retrieved a jar of peaches from the pantry.  Willow scooped several sliced of peaches onto the plate, replaced the jar lid, and stowed the jar in the icebox.  It needed more ice.

Her chicken in the pot, oats down the hatch, and kitchen cleaned up and looking spiffy, Willow shrugged off her flannel shirt and boots, slipped back on her slippers, and sighed.  It was a beautiful day.  By nine o’clock, she was curled on the chaise reading Alexa Hartfield’s book and sipping tea.

Her eyes closed and she listened to the sounds of her house.  The fire crackled in the stove, Saige barked outside and as she opened her eyes to read once more, she heard the gentle shushing of the page as she turned it.  There was no laughter, no thumping up and down the stairs, no one calling for mom to help with this or that, or good-natured protests of unfair treatment.  There was no furnace to make a strange clicking noise just before the whoosh of warm air shot through the vents.  No sirens wailed; no car doors thumped; all was quiet in her world.

Just after noon, she stretched as she stood to heat her stew and noticed the mail truck at the end of the lane.  Grabbing her keys, her flannel shirt, and a thick sweater, Willow pulled on her boots and stepped outside.  “Want to grab the mail with me Saige?”

Willow rarely got the mail.  Sometimes weeks went by without a single letter or catalog but if they saw the truck stop, the Finley women would take a break in their day and walk o the mailbox to see what might be in it.  Down the lane she walked, Saige dashing in circles, racing ahead of her and then zipping back to urge her onward.  She pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked the box.  She remembered the day her mother returned from the mailbox with Coke drenched, ant covered mail.  She’d spent the next three days building the concrete enshrouded mailbox.   Designed with a cut away bottom, mail dropped from the ‘door’ into the concrete tomb below.  The mailman had a key to the flap door and the Finley women had a separate key to the locked door on the back of the mail monstrosity.  But it worked, and it was normal to Willow now.

Two letters and a new catalog from Hancock’s of Paducah- it was a good day.  The name on the return address of one of the letters made her heart race and she hurried home to read it.  The other letter looked like a bill of some sort. 

Seated on the couch with the light streaming in from the window, Willow opened the letter from David and Carol Finley.

Dear Willow,

As Thanksgiving nears, I find myself thinking of you all alone in that large house and wondering how you are doing.  Do you have Thanksgiving traditions or plans?  How did Kari celebrate holidays with you, and now that she isn’t with you, what will you do?
These are thoughts that fill my mind as I make shopping lists.  I smiled when I wrote down marshmallow crème.  Oh how your mother hated sweet potato casserole.  I bought a yam for her and baked it as I always did.  I’ve done that for twenty-four Thanksgivings now.  No one eats it; they don’t like it.  I just can’t bring myself not to bake it for her and this year, I guess I baked it for you because now there’s no hope that she’ll ever walk through that door and tell us the nightmare is over.

How I want to invite you to spend a few days with us and yet your grandfather and I aren’t ready for it.  I hope you can understand that.  We steeled our hearts to the pain of losing Kari and some of that steel bars us from you but we want to unlock those doors.  We just don’t know how yet.

We saw your interview in the newspaper.  I was surprised at how freely you discussed the circumstances of your birth and Kari’s disappearance.  It has opened a floodgate of questions for us that we weren’t prepared to handle.  I don’t say this as a means of reproach but as a request.  Please leave us out of anything like that in the future.  We don’t care to relive those times but our media gossip driven culture doesn’t respect that.

Do you ever come into the city?  Perhaps we could meet at one of those quiet little tea rooms and talk- neutral ground with no pressure.  I would like that.  I have a granddaughter that I don’t know and that grieves me. 

You have cousins you know.  Kyle has three children.  Jonathan is just a year younger than you- twenty-three.  Peter is nineteen, and Bethel Anne is fifteen.  Your Uncle Kyle and Aunt Sheryl live in Hillsdale where Kyle is a loan manager for the bank.  When Bethel Anne started middle school, Cheryl took a few refresher classes and went back to work at the hospital as an RN in the oncology department.

This letter is already longer than I intended.  I find that when I start writing, I have a hard time stopping.  Kari used to be that way.  I have a shelf of journals and diaries from age six to age twenty and every letter she wrote home from camp.  I can’t tell you how much those have comforted me over the years.

I pray for you Willow.  I hope you know the Lord, and how precious you are to Him.

Grandma

 

Tears splashed on the letter before Willow realized she was crying.  Again.  How tired she was of her unpredictable emotional state!  It was a good letter.  Honest.  It didn’t offer or expect more of her than was reasonable.  After a second reading, she laid it aside.  Chad would like to see it.

The bill she expected to be for her leg.  Now and then a bill for some medical personnel that she couldn’t remember and didn’t care about would arrive and she forwarded them all to Bill happily.  However, this time, it wasn’t a bill.  A check fell from the folds of a letter as she opened it.  Made out in her name in the amount of two hundred fifty thousand dollars, the cashier’s check was signed by Steven J. Solari.  She read the letter suspiciously.

 

Willow Anne Finley,

An interesting article came across my desk recently.  Upon verification of a few simple facts, I have proven to my satisfaction that you are my granddaughter.

Had I any idea of your existence all of these years, I would have, of course, contributed financially and supportively to your upbringing.  While I cannot undo the past, I can try to make up for it by aiding your future.  You will find a check enclosed.  They claim it costs 150,000-200,000 to raise a child from birth to eighteen but college adds a significant amount to that and I have allowed for that as well.

I know what you must think of my son.  You can’t possibly think anything that I already haven’t.  He was a severe disappointment to both his mother and I.  Now that he is gone, we are alone, growing older every year, and finding it lonely without our son or the children he could have had.

I know I should not hope that you’d consider meeting with us at some point but I do.  My numbers are on the card I’ve enclosed.  Please call any time.  I haven’t told my wife about you.  She’d be crushed if she knew she had a grandchild and then you chose not to let her be a part of your life.  I cannot do that to her.  Whatever you may think of us, I am not my son and my wife is a kind gentle woman.

Sincerely,

Steve Solari

 

Willow’s first inclination was to throw check and letter into the fire.  Her hands felt soiled having touched them.  A cold sweat sent shivers down her spine but Willow refused to allow herself to be controlled by her emotions.  She carefully folded both letters and returned them to their envelopes.   In the kitchen, she slipped them between the salt and peppershakers and grabbed the strainer, stockpot, and carried the Dutch oven to the sink.  Time to make soup and eat lunch.  She’d handle emotions later.

***

Chapter 54- Part 2

***

“Oh Luke, I’m glad you got that on tape.  Your double single knee proposal is unique, I’ll give you that.  Of course, I’d give anything to be able to hear you but the comments of the children and the aunts was priceless.”

“I laughed so hard watching that.  When Tavish said to get the smelling salts…” Luke mused thoughtfully.

Cheri’s romance radar was in high gear.  “So did you choose a date?  Do you know where-”

“Can you give him twenty-four hours before you plan his life, Cheri?”  Chris’ nudge was anything but gentle.

The room erupted in laughter at Luke’s discouraged, “Well, I doubt I can get her to find time before Christmas but-”

Willow’s voice, though quiet, cut through the pandemonium.  “I wish you well, Luke.  I’ll be praying for you and for Aggie.”

Chad and Luke exchanged understanding glances.  As defensive as she’d been about Luke’s worth as a man, marriage wasn’t an easy thing for her to swallow.  After twenty-three years, she was just beginning to see what marriage truly was.  “Thank you Willow.”

A sidelong glance at the Tesdalls made Willow’s stomach flop in that horribly uncomfortable manner it had adopted that morning.  Marianne stood leaning her back into her husband’s chest, Christopher’s arms around her waist, and sharing some kind of private joke between them.  They reminded her of the married couples she’d read about in books.  There was something special- different about their relationship that both intrigued her and frightened her simultaneously.

Until she’d been bombarded with hints about her presumed budding romance with Chad, the idea of romance hadn’t bothered her much.  Bill made illusions to it and she found the attention pleasant but now, in this environment where deeper relationships were both casual and serious, suddenly she shied away from them.

“Willow, I’ve got to be at work by six and I didn’t pick up my uniforms- I think we should go soon.  With the snow, the roads-”

“Ready whenever you are.”  She turned immediately to find her tote bag but Christopher’s voice stopped her.

“Chad, can I see you in the den before you go?”

She watched nervously as the two men disappeared into the room and a pocket door slid shut behind them.  Willow had no doubt that the Tesdall family liked her.  Their warm welcome was genuine; she was confident on that score.  However, something in Christopher’s manner told her that he was concerned for Chad and assumed it had something to do with the infamous ‘Linnea.’

Unaware that Willow even noticed the exchange, Christopher sat his son down for a conversation he’d rather not have.  “Chad, I’d give anything to avoid this-”

Anticipating his father’s words, Chad’s shoulders slumped.  “I’m sorry dad.  I know I’ve been a disappointment to you in so many ways but-”

“Don’t assume you know what I’m going to say.  I’m pretty sure you don’t.

“You know, I’ve been praying about you and Willow since the day you came to the store.  I’ve struggled about it because I have no doubt that the Lord brought you into Willow’s life for a reason and not just to help her.  She’s been good for you too son.”

Chad listened, willing himself not to respond defensively.  This had been the best visit with his parents since he’d left for college.  The old wounds were stitched and healing, he didn’t want to rip them open again.  As his father talked, he prayed- hardly hearing what his father had to say.

“… I’m not concerned about where things are now.  I know you think I’m going to condemn you for your choices concerning her but I’m not.  I see why you’ve done what you’ve done and I’m proud of you for it.”

Swallowing hard, Chad raised his eyes to meet his father’s.  “I cannot tell you how much that means to me.”

“Which,” Christopher continued, “is why I’m going to say something you probably don’t want to hear but I want you to listen close to what I am saying and not add in what I’m not.”

Chad nodded.  It was true, he tended to assume what people meant by what they said rather than taking their word at face value.  The fact that he was usually right did little to help break him of the habit, but when he was wrong, he always made promises to himself that he’d learn not to be so presumptive.

“Your relationship with Willow is a lot like yours with Cheri.  I don’t see the level of teasing and banter but I suspect that part of that is that she’s not comfortable here and I know she’s still a little fragile.  You see her as a sister; you treat her as a best friend.  This is good.”

“But-” He knew a ‘but’ had to be forthcoming and just wanted the ordeal over.

“But she isn’t your sister.  She’s a sister in Christ, I grant you but she is not your sister.  The day will come, probably sooner than either of you are prepared to think about, when one or both of you will marry.”

“Pop, please-”

“Listen to me son.  If you keep things how they are, I don’t foresee any real problems.  However, if you continue to treat her like Cheri, the time will come when you’re watching movies with your arm draped around her shoulder or she’ll fall asleep half curled against your chest or your lap just like Cheri does.  That may be innocent and I trust you to search your heart about those things and to listen to the Holy Spirit’s promptings but son her husband isn’t going to want to come home and find you casually affectionate with his wife.”

“I don’t think that’s a problem dad.  I can’t see her marrying but if she did, I’d never-”

“Your wife wouldn’t necessarily like it either.”

Chad’s head whipped up sharply.  “How can you think I’d ever-”

“Son, you wouldn’t.  That’s not the problem.  I am trying to set up a picture in your mind here.  If you are not careful to keep your shows of affection- and I know you.  You’re going to keep her feeling secure by any means you know.  It’s who you are and who you’ve always been.  I wouldn’t want you to change it.  But if you keep seeing her as another sister instead of a single woman, then the day one of you marries, she loses another important relationship.”

“Well I wouldn’t just abandon her Pop!”

“No, but you’d pull away.  It’s a natural response and a right one.  But it’d mean another loss in a young woman who can’t afford any more losses.”

Taking a deep breath, Chad decided to cut to the chase.  “Ok, can you tell me in as few and as simple words as possible, what you’re suggesting?”

“Be her friend Chad.  Be there for her.  But keep your relationship to something that can continue, just as it is or awfully close to it, in case one of you marries.”

Glad to have the burden of his heart off his chest and onto the table, Christopher stood.  “Of course, you’d solve all of the problems if you simply married her yourself in the next decade or two.”

“Don’t count on it Dad.  Don’t count on it.”

Chapter 54- Part 1

The men bustled into the house with their ‘kill’ and dusted off the first flakes of winter.  As Chad shrugged out of his coat, the corners of his mouth tugged upwards slightly at the sight of Willow’s flower arrangement.  He’d have to thank mom later.

“Hey Marianne?  Guess what I found!”

“Shhh,” his mom fussed as she rushed from the kitchen looking extra chipper and festive.

“What?”  Christopher’s stage whisper wasn’t much quieter than his yell.

“Willow’s still asleep.  You guys be quiet or I’ll send you down to the basement.”

“What about breakfast?  I’m starving!” Chris whined in his best mock toddler voice.

Ignoring her son, Marianne wrapped her arms around her nephew.  “Congratulations Luke, I can’t wait to meet her.  You need to bring everyone over some afternoon soon.”

“Aunt Mari, I’d rethink that invitation if I were you.  We’re not a visit you know.  We’re an invasion.”

“Good,” she quipped leading her favorite nephew to the kitchen.  “Then we surrender.  Occupy the territory Lucas!”

Pineapple chunks and cheese cubes sat on the counter as a pre-breakfast appetizer but after one pass by the four hungry men, all that they left were a few toothpicks and two dirty plates. “Mom, got any of your cinnamon rolls left?” Chad was hungry enough to wake Willow deliberately so they could eat.”

“No, and I’m not putting in the casserole until I hear some movement from upstairs.”

“Where’s Cheri?” 

“She’s down in the basement digging out the tree.  Why don’t you go help her Chris?  Chad, you could get the ornaments…”

The guys disappeared from the kitchen and a knowing look passed between them.  At the foot of the basement stairs, Chad paused.  “You go down; I’ll be there in a minute.  I just want to make sure she’s not up there wondering when we’re all going to wake up.  I can just see her doing that.”

“Don’t let mom catch you!” Chris warned as he thundered don the stairs making enough noise to convince Marianne that her sons were twelve and fifteen again.

Chad peeked into Willow’s room and almost snorted aloud.  No wonder Willow was sleeping so soundly.  The blinds were down, the curtains drawn, and hardly a daring ray of sunlight managed to peek through any of the cracks.  He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her sleep wondering what about the picture bothered him.  Finally, he realized.  Most people assume a rested peaceful look in their sleep that you rarely see on their faces.  Willow just looked like Willow with her eyes closed.  The peace in her heart and the life she led, while hard and requiring much labor, was peace lived daily.  He’d never noticed how clearly it showed in her face until he watched her sleep.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump.  He looked down into his mother’s warning eyes and hugged her whispering as he did, “Look at her face mom.  She looks just as gentle and peaceful awake as she does asleep.”

Marianne turned him from the door and pushed him towards he stairs with a mock scowl.  “Get down there and help,” she hissed menacingly.  “Or I’ll bring out the hidden albums.  I think Willow would get a huge kick out of a certain little baby boy watering my roses in the buff.”

Chad was already half way down the stairs.  His mother had claimed for years that she had certain pictures squirreled away for opportune blackmail times and though none of the Tesdall children had ever found them, they also weren’t willing to risk it.  She peeked in at Willow and smiled as the young woman stretched, rolled over, and resumed her rhythmic breathing. 

“Lord, I always thought it’d take something drastic to pull Chad out of his shell but I never realized it’d be a good drastic.  With his job-” she sighed under her breath.  “My faith was weak again.  I’ve got that down to a science.  Think we could work on some strengthening exercises now?”

***

Willow awoke.  Again.  Her head was growing fuzzy from lack of movement.  She wanted fresh air and a walk.  Maybe if she got dressed, she’d catch the men before they left.  She hadn’t planned on going shopping but after waking several times and finding it still dark, she was ready to give up.

The house was silent as she wrapped Cheri’s spare robe around her.  She’d have to slip into Cheri’s room and snatch her clothes.  As she passed the top of the stairs, light shone from the first floor and oddly enough, it looked like it was coming from outside.

Quickly, she padded downstairs and glanced out the window that flanked the door.  Light filtered into the room and snowflakes fell steadily on the lawn and shrubbery.  She remembered a clock on the oven, so Willow hurried to see what time it really was but as she stepped in the kitchen, she stopped short.

“Oh excuse me,” she gasped blushing half frozen in amazement then turning to hurry away from the sight of Christopher and Marianne wrapped in each other’s arms as they kissed.

“Willow, did you need something?” Marianne asked without moving from her husband’s arms.

“Oh, no, I was just going to see what time it is.  It was so dark in my room I thought it was night still.” 

With each word, she backed from the room uncomfortably.  Marianne smiled apologetically.  “I’m sorry.  I went in before I went to bed and closed it up so the light wouldn’t bother you.  I’m putting a casserole in.  Would you like to take a shower while it bakes?”

“Um-” Her eyes traveled uncomfortably to Christopher’s hands as they rubbed his wife’s arms absently.

Taking the casserole from the fridge, Marianne shoved it in the oven and punched the timer.  “Come on.  I’m sure Cheri has some sweats or something that’ll fit you.”

All the way up the stairs, Marianne’s mind whirled.  Should she apologize for making Willow feel uncomfortable?  As she chattered about Cheri’s wardrobe options, she tried to read Willow’s body language to determine how to respond.  She wasn’t ashamed of the display of affection but neither did she care to make a guest uncomfortable.

“Oh look, Cheri bought these last year and never wore them.  I’m not sure why…” Marianne prattled about the velour warm up suit and t-shirt as she found clothes, toothbrush, and towels and placed them in the bathroom.

As soon as Willow was settled, she hurried downstairs.  The shouts of her sons and husband sent her back upstairs.  “Well, you didn’t tell me you were wrapping yet!  Chad, Christopher, I need you.”

Seated around the couch, Marianne explained the scenario with a hint of a blush on her cheeks.  The Tesdalls weren’t prudes.  They showed genuine affection, occasionally more passionate when privacy was probable, but they were always discreet and tasteful.  Willow’s discomfort seemed more pronounced than when a niece, nephew, or even one of Cheri’s friends burst into the house.

As he listened to his mother explain the situation, Chad chuckled. “Care to share with us Chad?” his father asked, instinctively knowing it was going to be interesting.

“I just remember when she said after we saw the Princes Bride.  There is that line about the five perfect kisses, and she said, ‘What’s so big about a kiss anyway?  Two lips smashed against each other.  Whoop-dee-doo.’  I told her she’d think differently some day.”

“Smashed lips!”  Christopher laughter joined Marianne’s muffled titters.  She tried to hush him but it didn’t work.

“Chad, what do you think?  I started to apologize for making her uncomfortable but you’ve seen us, we’re not- well-”

“No I don’t think you have anything to apologize for.  As much as Cheri, Chris, and I complain, we really do like knowing you’re still-.” 

“You’re as bad as she is,” Chad’s father teased.  “It’s called being in love.  You should try it sometime.”

At the sight of her son’s embarrassment, Marianne stepped in and redirected the conversation.  She’d watched the knowing looks between Chris and Cheri, heard the speculations of the family, and even Libby had mentioned that she hoped when enough time had passed and Willow was ready for the right man in her life, that it would be Chad.  If he felt half the pressure that she did, Chad would run.  They could thank Linnae for that.

“So, what do you think Chad?  I’m not going to lie and I won’t apologize for showing proper affection for my husband but if I need to apologize for making her feel uncomfortable…”

He sat thoughtfully and then shook his head.  “No, you shouldn’t mention it at all- in fact; I’d appreciate it if you’d be a little extra affectionate.  Willow needs to see it.  I’ll try not to gag.”

“What do you mean ‘Willow needs to see it’ son?”

“Just that she hasn’t.  Can you imagine never having seen a husband and wife, any husband and wife, kiss?  Can you imagine never hearing your father say, ‘I love you?’  Things that are so commonplace for us are earth shattering for her.  I can’t even begin to describe our discussion of showing affection for men!”

This piqued Marianne’s interest.  “Oh no, that’s something I want to hear.  I’ve watched you with her Chad and the only reason I haven’t said anything is because I trust that you know what you’re doing.”

As he tried to explain, Chad stuffed his hands in his pockets leaning back into the chair.  “It’s strange mom.  Because of who she is, I can and must behave in ways I can’t possibly imagine.  Mom, I slept over at her house- a few times when no one else was there!  Granted most of those times were during the day because I worked night shift but still.”

“And why did you think that was a good idea Chad?”

His father’s voice cut him to the heart.  He’d known that tone ever since he could remember.  It meant disappointment.  “Pop, she was injured.  She has no one.  I could milk the goats and was strong enough to help her up and down the stairs.”  He sighed.  They’d never understand.  “I was who she trusted.  I couldn’t not do it Pop.”

Christopher Tesdall fought the churning in his spirit.  He had a strong tendency to put everything in a carefully packaged box.  His wife had often told him as they reared their children, “You can’t decide how everything should go and then force it to go that way.  Sometimes you have to use discernment instead of rules.”  The rare times that she disagreed with him in decisions regarding their children, it had always come down to that one concept.  “Just because the scenario doesn’t fit your idea of the perfect script, doesn’t mean it needs to be written out of the play.”

“You probably know best son and it’s never wrong to serve the body of Christ.  How you do it- Well, still.  I can’t-” He struggled.  His son was opening himself up for more than the boy bargained for and yet somehow he couldn’t bring himself to open his mental lecture list and pull out the appropriate one for the occasion. “Anyway, tell us about the affection problem.”

Chad told about the conversation he’d had with Willow.  His parents sat dumbstruck as he described her nonchalant attitude of holding the hands of three men in almost as many days without the slightest idea that it would mean anything more than friendly reassurance and appreciation.  “You know how you always said you could tell when a girl’s father quit showing her affection around their teen years?”

Christopher nodded not liking where he thought Chad was going.  “You don’t think-”

“Well, no.  I don’t think Willow is in danger of trading her virtue for male attention but considering she’s never had any, I think she is both oblivious to it being any different than female affection as well as having a deep need for it.  If she didn’t so thoroughly disassociate herself from any hint of romance, I couldn’t be the big brother slash friend that I am without having another Linnae on my hands.”

“Oh I’m sick of that girl’s name!  I’m sick of her impact on our family!  I’m sick that our son, my kind hearted handsome son, has run from every decent girl he’s ever met thanks to that-”

“Enough Marianne.  Don’t let the bitterness back.” 

Before anyone could speak, they heard the bathroom door squeak and Chad quickly murmured “Don’t walk around lip-locked, just be affectionate like you always are… just a bit more often!

“Morning Willow!”

Willow brought her towel downstairs brushing her hair as she came.  “What should I do with the towel?  The racks are full up there.”

Marianne jumped to grab it.  “I’ll take it.  Would you like some juice?  I’d offer you fruit or cheese but the guys inhaled it when they got back.”

“Where is everyone?”

Chad smiled from his relaxed spot on the couch.  “Downstairs.  They’re wrapping gifts.  I’m supposed to be down there but I had a few things to discuss with mom and dad so-”

“Well you go down and wrap Chad; I’ll get Willow to help me with breakfast.”

On cue, Christopher passed through the kitchen as Marianne checked the casserole and murmured something into his wife’s ear, kissed her cheek, and followed his son down the basement steps.  Smiling to herself and half-forgetting her earlier concern, she winked at Willow.  “What a man will do to get a meal.”

“So what I can I do?”  Eagerly, Willow looked around the room for anything to focus on other than Marianne’s face.

“Is something wrong?”  This wasn’t going to be as simple as Chad’s confidence had implied.  “Can you reach in that cupboard- no the next one.  Yes.  Can you get me ummm six… seven of those plates?”

“Sure.  I wonder where our extra plates are.”

“What did you say?”

As she handed Marianne the plates, Willow explained their limited dish situation.  “I know we have replacements- anytime something broke there’d be a replacement in the cupboard the next meal.  I never thought of it before but mom must have them somewhere.  I wonder why she didn’t just keep them in the cupboard.”

In an unusual moment of insight, Marianne Tesdall saw Kari more accurately than most ever did.  “I think your mother wanted a visual reminder that she only had enough emotional stamina for two people ‘at her table’ so to speak.”

Tears sprung to Willow’s eyes but rather than being overcome by them, she smiled.  “Two people at her table.  That’s perfect.  Chad has almost become family- the brother Mother would never have had for me.  I still have two people at my table most of the time.  God is good.”

***

Chapter 49- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 49- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 48- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 48- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 43- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 43- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 41- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

The Finley Farm~

Or: What I did when I let my daughter use my laptop for an English paper yesterday.

 

 

PUT PIC BACK 

 

Of course, it isn’t perfect.  No matter what I did, I couldn’t make the driveway long enough.  Perspetive is WAY off… some things are much bigger than they should be others are much smaller… but hey.  I’m no artist and it was fun!

Chapter 41- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 40- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 40- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Name This Book! ~Contest~

Ok, another contest.  Why?  Cause I like em.  It’s FUN.

 

 

PUT PICS BACK 

 

 

These are the prize.  Pretend they’re  the ones Willow made!  They’re actually made by  my lovely and talented friend Cathe and can be purchased from her if you don’t win.  I have a set of four of these in my kitchen colors and I LOVE them.  L.O.V.E.  Thought you oughtta know.

 

So.  How do you win them?  This time it’s not um… what’s the word I need… (forgive me, my inner thesaurus and dictionaries are depleted after thousands of words on “paper”)… well anyway, I get to choose my favorite name and no random anything or non-biased thing like that gets to choose.  Sue me.

 

So your task?  Rename this story.  The current name is staying- I like it and think it’s a cool play on words.  BUT… I always get a kick out of what other people come up with.

 

Everyone gets 3 names per entry.  Every home can have as many entries as they have people who can type ‘em out.

 

Deadline is Saturday 12 Noon PST

Chapter 37- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 37- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

The 100,000th Word is….

 

PUT PIC BACK 

The scintillating and highly impartial word… Government!

 

I was at word 100,129 when I realized that  I might have hit the 100k jackpot.  So, I checked it out and found word 100,000.   NOT easy to do BTW.  NOT easy to do.  Every time I thought I’d gotten the right number of words selected, I’d hit word count and I’d still have too many words.   It was ridiculous.  However, I didn’t want to include the book title, my address, and all that jazz as part of the word count so I had to start with only the beginning soooo it took a bit.

 

Now Government wasn’t one of the words chosen.  I can’t imagine why!  Off I went to find ALL G words

 

I found

 

God

Good

Goat

Garden

 

So I added Government to the list and alphabetized them….

 

Garden

Goat

God

Good

Government

 

The closest word was good.  I find that hysterical.  Good Government.  Isn’t that an oxymoron?  I love it.  I’m howling here but there’s more.  I have to find the winner!

 

Off I go to find good again.  I find it.

 

 

PUT PIC BACK 

 

Tony!  Congratulations!  I’m sure you’ll look lovely in your apron!  (Do you have a color preference?  I want to see a picture of you in it carrying your chic tote!)

 

This was so much fun!  Up next week?  Quilted Autumn Pot holders… just cause I felt like it.

Chapter 32- Part 3

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 32- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 32- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 31- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Let’s Celebrate 100 THOUSAND Words!

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 31- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 29- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

We Have a WINNER!!!!! Congratulations!

Sandi in NC!!!

 

 

put back pics 

 

Just in case anyone wonders how I did it.  I copied PW.  Sue me.

 

 

Sandi, email me your addy and I’ll pop this pinny in the mail!

Chapter 29- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 28- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 28- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 24- Part 2

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 22- Part 2

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 21- Part 1

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 20- Part 2

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 20- Part 1

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 18- Part 1

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 16- Part 2

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 16- Part 1

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 15- Part 2

 

Out for nap- be back soon!

 

~Willow

 

 

Chapter 15- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 13- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 13- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 12- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 12- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 11- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 11- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 10- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 9- Part 4

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 9- Part 3

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 9- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 8- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 8- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 5~

Early Saturday morning, Willow was weeding the garden when the phone in her pocket rang sending Othello into a barking fit.  A kind minister asked for clarification on the service he was to perform on Monday and by the time she turned the phone off, Willow was unnerved.  She’d forgotten that she needed to dig a hole for the coffin and even that she needed to decide, where she’d bury her mother in the first place.

She replaced the trowel and a hoe and retrieved the pickaxe and shovel.  Suddenly, she knew where she’d bury her mother.  Behind the barn, through the trees, and off to the right of the firing range, her mother’s favorite oak stood tall, proud, but alone.  Willow would bury her mother there.

She wore her gardening hat, work gloves, and a loose billowy long sleeved white shirt over jeans and kept her hair stuffed under her hat.  It was almost nine as she began digging.  Her jug of water sat untouched for the first hour but her thirst eventually overruled her and she drank.

The queasy feeling was familiar.  Her mother had taught her not to drink a lot of water all at once after working hard and being overheated and now she worked feeling hot, tired, and sick to her stomach.  It was a welcome relief in some ways. 

By eleven, she sobbed as she dug.  Her work was slower, her muscles tired, and her back ached almost as much as her heart.   She tears poured down her cheeks making strange paths in her dusty face.  Every minute was torture.  Even so, it was also cathartic.  With each shovel full of dirt that she tossed from the rapidly growing hole, she felt that somehow she could finally measure her loss in tangible terms.  Every cubic inch of dirt represented dozens of memories that she now, like Mary in Bethlehem, treasured in her heart.

Chad zipped along the road to the farm and saw something off to the right of the driveway.  A second glance told him it had to be Willow but he couldn’t tell from that distance what she was doing.  He bounced over the ruts in the driveway and realized that many more trips would soon batter his truck.  He needed to drag the road several times and smooth it. 

Willow drank as she watched his truck racing down her lane and recapped her jug.  She’d forgotten he was coming and realized he might expect lunch.  He could forget it.  She didn’t know how long it took to dig such a large hole but she wasn’t about to be digging on Monday morning.

Chad rounded the barn, followed the line of trees to the open field that ran alongside the driveway until he reached the oak where Willow stood, almost knee high in a hole shoveling dirt out between pauses to wipe away her tears.  The sight of a slight woman like Willow carving out a place in the earth for her mother’s body to rest was heart wrenching.  Guilt washed over him as he remembered his internal complaining regarding this visit.  He didn’t want a friend.  Well, that wasn’t true.  He loved people and did want friends.  He just didn’t want this friend.  He didn’t want to be her confidant or her crying post. 

“She didn’t want to be left alone to dig her own mother’s grave but she’s doing it.  How pathetic can you be Tesdall?” he growled to himself as he reached the side of the grave.

“Willow?”

The answer came in the form of a pile of dirt on his polished shoes and a streak across the hemline of his uniform.  He tried again and when he received the same answer, Chad jumped down into the hole and wrapped his hands around the handle of the shovel.  “Willow.  Let go.”

At the sight of Willow’s face, he pulled the shovel from her hands and wrapped his arms around her.  “Come on… let’s go cry it out inside.  It’s hot out here.”

“I have to get this done-”

Without another word, Chad pulled her from the hole and led her back to the house.  In the kitchen, he handed her a glass of water and pointed to the stairs.  “Go take a shower.  I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I forgot to defrost anything so a salad-”

“Go.  I’ll take care of lunch.”

After a look in the cupboards, the cellar icebox, and the summer kitchen, Chad whipped out his cell phone and raced to his truck.  By the time he arrived, two sandwiches and pasta salads in hand, Willow lay curled on her bed with obvious traces of tears on her face.

“I brought food.  Do you want it up here or…”

She glanced at him horrified and then smiled.  “Lunch in bed and I’m not even sick!”

They ate an impromptu picnic on her bed, she sitting against the headboard, he cross-legged on the floor leaning against her closet.  Half way through her sandwich, Willow commented, “I see you got your truck fixed.”

“Fixed?” he murmured with a mouthful of pasta salad.

“You drove it forward instead of backward today.  Was it hard to fix?”

Chad choked on his salad as he laughed.  Between chortles, he coughed and sputtered trying to expel the noodle from his windpipe.  Willow’s confused expression helped him regain a little composure.  “The truck wasn’t broken Willow, I just backed up the driveway instead of turning around.  It went forward again once I put it in gear at the highway.”

“Oh how interesting.  I’ll have to read about how vehicles work.  I always meant to but I just never got around to it.  I guess I could have asked Mother.  She drove a car before she moved here.”

A glance at his watch told Chad it was time to go.  “Work calls.  I’ll call the guys at the hardware store and have them send out a backhoe to finish digging for you.”

At the door, Willow laid a hand on Chad’s arm.  “Thank you.  I really didn’t want to do it and I wasn’t looking forward to spending most of my Sunday digging.  As it is, I’ll be sore as a stubbed toe in the morning.”

Her phone rang ten minutes later.  “The phone says it is Chad.  Is that right?”

A familiar chuckle told her she was correct before his voice came over the phone. “Hello Willow.  You have a very unique way of answering the phone.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing wrong with it, it’s just unique.  Most people say ‘hello’ first.  Anyway, I wondered if you’d like to come to church tomorrow.  I could pick you up at nine forty-five…”  The invitation was raw and blunt but he decided it was better nothing.

Several seconds passed before she said, “Thanks but I don’t think so.  Maybe next week.”

***

The road crunched beneath her feet the next morning as Willow turned off the highway onto the road into Fairbury.  The sidewalk muffled her stride and at the convenience store, she changed into her best sandals, brushed her hair, and set off again for the church.  She’d seen it catty-cornered from the town square and had no difficulty finding it.

Inside, the auditorium was filled with chattering people.  She smiled and nodded to those she passed, exchanged “good mornings” and pushed forward hoping to sit near the front.  However, unlike many churches, the front pews were full.  The left side of the church also seemed full (if Bibles and purses were any indication) but on the right, near the far right of center, there seemed to be a large area of empty places causing Willow to wonder if they were reserved for someone.

“Excuse me; I’ve never seen you here before.  I’m Alexa Hartfield.  Would you like to sit with me?”

The song leader took the podium several minutes later.  Pastor Allen sat off to the side and, as the opening song began, burst into laughter.  Though he obviously tried to stifle his amusement, the look on Willow’s face as Alexa began singing, was horrified and surprised.  Just as he regained control, the congregation split between those who were confused and those who’d either seen or guessed the cause, Alexa stepped from the row and slipped forward a few rows smiling encouragingly at Willow as she did.

Now the entire congregation erupted in titters until Troy, the song leader gave up and signaled for the pianist to cease.  Pastor Allen took the podium and apologized.  “I am so terribly sorry.  I can’t- Miss Hartfield I-” He swallowed hard.  “… and our guest!  Please forgive me!”

Once the sermon began, after the morning singing was concluded, Willow crept forward and sat next to Alexa Hartfield again.  At the end of the final song, she turned to her seatmate and smile.  “I do apologize.  I think I may have embarrassed you.”

Laughing, Alexa shook her head with mock ruefulness.  “Not at all!  As you’ve noticed, there is usually a wide berth around me.”

“You have amazing volume.  I’ve never heard anything like it.”

A few people nearby chuckled as they overheard her enthusiastic compliment.  Alexa’s laughter increased.  “I’ve tried to learn to sing more quietly but I can’t.  It’s either not sing at all or sing to terrify animals and small children.”

Chad met them at the edge of the pew.  “You’re here!  I thought you said-”

“I changed my mind.”

Within the half hour, he introduced Willow to half of the church. Pastor Allen offered his condolences and promised to arrive early the next day.   Chad only had two hours before his shift, but he insisted on taking Willow to lunch and driving her home. (how pathetic can you write?)

***

Willow wandered to her favorite spot beside the stream that ran across one corner of their property.  The chickens were fed and locked in their house, the cow’s trough, full to the brim, would last her until morning, and Wilhelmina munched contentedly on her fresh supply of alfalfa as Willow reached the small pool and set up her fishing rod.

Every minute that passed soothed her spirit.  The week had been a constant influx of new and often uncomfortable or painful experiences.  Late Sunday afternoon and evening fishing and praying was one thing she’d always done alone.  She didn’t expect her mother to turn the corner at any moment, she didn’t have to remember what her mother did and make up the slack, and she did not have to compensate mentally for the unaccustomed silence around her. Sunday afternoons were always silent.  Always alone. 

Generally, fish didn’t bite until dusk but occasionally, like today, if the weather was unusually cool or rainy, she’d have a surprise grilled fish dinner.  Willow spread a quilt under her favorite silver maple tree and made herself comfortable near the base of the tree.

For three hours, Willow napped, prayed, fished, and escaped from the new world she’d unwillingly entered.  During those hours, life was normal, blissful, and peaceful; her loss blissfully disappeared into the haze of the afternoon.  Fish nibbled at her flies and swam away safely until she’d almost given up the idea of grilled fish for dinner but eventually she caught one.

She put her fish on ice in her mini ice chest, and unwound a rope from one of the tree branches.  Holding onto a stick tied about six feet from the bottom; she flung herself and the rope over the pool and swung back and forth until she grew tired.  Finally, as the momentum slowed, she dropped into the water reveling in the cool depths.

As she rounded the corner of the barn, the shawl of grief slowly settled back around her shoulders.  Willow lifted her hands to the sky, her ice chest dangling from one hand and blanket dropping from under her arm.  “Lord, it’s just You and me now.  Will You remind me that You’re still here when I’m silly enough to feel like I’m all alone?”

Chapter 5- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 4- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 4~

Bill finally caught up to Willow as she ambled up her driveway.  “Hop in, I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”  As they drove up the long road Bill told of the arrangements, his visit with her lawyer, and the best pastrami on rye he’d ever had.

“Maybe I should have gone to the deli.  The line was almost out the door so I went to a restaurant.  Marcello’s.  It was very good and I had a very nice waiter.”

“Did you and your mother eat there often?”

“No… I’ve never been to a restaurant before- well, not that I can remember anyway.”

Bill Franklin had always assumed something tragic had occurred to make Kari Finley such a recluse.  Her correspondence with him was predictable and their yearly business meetings cordially professional.  He’d met Kari when Willow was around twelve years old.  The tall gangly girl had grown into a lovely woman over the past ten years.  She wasn’t pretty in the modern sense of the word and certainly not beautiful, but she was definitely lovely. 

Kari herself had always been beautiful.  He’d nursed a slight infatuation in their first few meetings but after the year had passed into their second year, he’d found, to his relief, that he was over his silliness.  Kari then became a trusted client and a silent friend.

At her living room table, Bill showed Willow the cost of the funeral, the mortuary expenses, and made suggestions for contributions to the minister for his time.  He showed her the addition he’d made to her letters with the time and date of the funeral added- Monday at 1:30 p.m., and asked if he’d done what she wanted.

“Of course!  It’s perfect.  And the courthouse approved the permit?”

“Well, not yet but they said that since you’re out of city limits, they can approve a permit as long as you own more than ten acres and bury her at least three hundred yards from your creek.”

“Oh good.  That is such a relief!”

Financial papers spread across the table in rapid succession.  He showed her the balance of her investments, her bank balance, and her upcoming bills.  Willow took careful notes on everything as Bill explained the source of her income and the projected outgo.  “As you can see, your mother spent little of the annuity she set up to live on.  Living here- growing your own food and everything- that kept costs so low.”

At this point, he pulled out the family records and pointed to the notarized affidavit of birth.  “This, however, is going to be a problem.  Your name is on these accounts but only because they’re so old.  For you to access them you’ll need either a social security number or identification.  You don’t have either and you can’t get either one without a state certified birth certificate.  I called your mother’s attorney and she said she’d file immediately for a family court hearing to establish the fact of your birth.”

“How long will that take?”

Bill looked at her sympathetically.  “I don’t know.  Hopefully, soon.  Meanwhile, your lawyer says I’ve been named executor of the will so I can handle any financial needs until you get identification and a social security number.”

She leaned back in her chair and watched him for a few minutes as he made notes and gathered necessary information.  “You know, when I was fifteen, I developed an enormous crush on you.  I was positively smitten for at least a month.  I think I drove Mother crazy.”

“I think I remember that visit.  It was both comical and embarrassing at the same time.  I didn’t see you much after that visit until the past two years.”

“I kept myself busy the next year and after that there was just so much to do that I didn’t realize for a couple of years that I’d hardly seen you when you came so I rearranged my schedule so I wouldn’t be rude.”

They laughed and talked companionably for some time before Ben finally stood.  “I’ll call you as soon as I have a court date and I’ll be here on Monday of course.  If you need anything just call.  Mari knows to patch you through immediately.  Here’s my personal cell number in case you need me after hours.”

She walked him to his car, waved for a moment, and then returned to the house.  The clock showed the time as three-thirty.  She pulled the chicken she’d left cool in the cellar icebox and took it to the barn.  In the “summer room” as her mother had called it, she chopped and diced until she had a healthy amount of vegetables and her chicken scraps in a pot and simmering on the stove.  She turned the burner as low as it could go and closed the window most of the way so that the breeze wouldn’t blow out the flame. 

After swift clean up, she hurried inside to change.  The cow seemed to sense a change and lowed mournfully as though asking for her friend Kari.  “She’s not coming back old girl.  She won’t be here when you become dinner either.  Lazy woman.”

***

Chad tossed his cell phone down on the seat and punched his foot more solidly on the gas as his truck tore down the highway.  He’d been calling since noon.  When Willow answered and then disconnected he’d been mildly amused.  After all, she was still growing accustomed to using the thing.  However, when future rings went unanswered, he grew irritated.  A call to the Mortuary revealed that she’d arrived with a William Franklin and left without him, apparently just before he’d called.

“Six hours.  It’s been about six hours.  Anything could happen especially all alone and grieving…” he muttered to himself as he tore into her driveway.  He ignored the fishtailing of his truck bed and bounced along the ruts at forty miles per hour.

Othello didn’t meet him.  That seemed strange but Chad assumed the animal was out chasing rabbits or squirrels.  He knocked on the front door and got no answer.  Around the back, he pounded on the back door but received nothing but silence as a reply.  Throwing courtesy out the door, he entered the house and hurried in and out of every room.  There was no sign of her.

He almost ran to the barn and found chicken soup simmering on the stove.  It smelled wonderful.  Without realizing he’d done it, he gave it a stir and put the lid back on the pot before he hurried up into the loft and then out the doors again. 

He opened his mouth to start calling her name when a gunshot rang out from behind the barn.  Chad froze.  Torn for a moment between retrieving his own weapon from his truck and rushing to her aid, he opted for the latter and hurried to the corner of the barn.  His training kicked into high gear.  He peeked around the barn and saw nothing.

Another shot rang out, this time closer.  It sounded like a twenty-two rifle.  He’d spent most of his teen years target shooting with a twenty-two.  The sound was as familiar as a two-cylinder motorcycle and the howl of their basset hound when his aunt sang.

Debating whether to call out, he crept toward a line of trees.  Another shot fired.  Chad threw caution to the wind and raced through the trees.  Willow whirled at the sound of his footprints throwing the barrel of the gun in the air instinctively.

“What are you doing?  You scared me!  I could have shot you.”

Chad, ignoring her questions, began a tirade of epic proportions.  “Me?  Excuse me?  I’ve been calling you all day!  First, you answer and hang up on me, and then nothing.  I imagined you out here lonely, grieving, and then heard gunshots and assumed-”

He stopped short.  Willow’s hands covered her face as her shoulders shook.  He gently pulled the gun from the crook of her arm, the end of the barrel being too close to her head for his comfort, and leaned it against a tree.

Suddenly he realized that her ’sobs’ sounded suspiciously like giggles.  “Are you laughing at me?”

Willow pulled her hands from her face momentarily, and nodded.  “Mmm hmm.”  A fresh wave of laughter engulfed her.  “You sounded like Mother when she thought I’d drowned in the creek.”

“What did she do after she read you the riot act?”

“Well she scolded me at first- is that what you mean by riot act?”  He cocked an eyebrow at her.  “Well after that, she gave me a sound spanking.  I remember sitting right back in the creek to cool my backside.”

Chad smirked trying to hide a smile.  Willow’s expression was priceless.  “That’s exactly the expression on Mother’s face.  Exactly.”

“So what are you doing out here?”

She pointed at the gun.  “Mother was the markswoman.  She kept in practice for self-defense.  I had to shoot enough that I could at least hit a dog if I had to.  Mother insisted.  Now that she’s gone, there isn’t someone else to rely on if I need protection.”

The hollow tone in her voice belied the matter-of-fact attitude.  Chad took the gun and started to empty the chamber but Willow stopped him.  “No.  We leave it loaded.  It’ll stand behind my bed now like it used to stand behind Mother’s.”

“You shouldn’t leave it loaded-”

She jerked the gun from him, grabbed the box of ammunition, and marched into the trees.  “A gun does no good as protection if you have to stop and find the ammunition and then load it.  By that point, an intruder could have killed you unless you’re good at clobbering them with it.”

“But-”

She whirled unexpectedly in mid stride causing Chad to bump into her nearly knocking her down.  As he grabbed her arms to steady her, Willow stepped back exasperated.  “Who is going to get hurt in this house?  Who?  How is that gun going to harm me if I am not behind it?  I’m the only one in there.  Even if you visit or Mr. Franklin or Mr. and Mrs. Varney, are they going to go upstairs, behind my bed, and play with my loaded gun?”

Forced to concede that she had a point, Chad sighed.  “Ok, but do me a favor. If a child ever comes here, promise me you’ll hide it in a locked room and remove the ammo until they leave.”

“Promise.  Now, are you hungry?”

***

“I can’t believe your mother took pictures.  She took lots of pictures, of both of you.  It’s amazing.”

Curious, Willow glanced at Chad’s bewildered face.  “Why is that so amazing?”

“Well, you live here, in a house without electricity, grow your own food, live like Laura Ingalls in a lot of ways, but your mom takes pictures.  How did she get them developed?”

Willow pulled a small picnic basket from the shelf next to the scrapbooks.  Inside was a camera, several rolls of unused film, and a stack of prepaid envelopes to a mega photo-development house.  “We just pop the film in one of these with a check and put it out at the mail box.  About two weeks later it comes back with more film and mailers.”

“My mom does scrap booking but this looks different.  It’s like your mom did everything herself.  The papers and stuff-”

Smoothing the page where a corner had tried to come up, Willow nodded.  “We did.  When there were pictures to do, we took turns deciding how to decorate the pages and what to draw.  We’d spend hours designing the papers and embellishments.  We got ideas from fabrics and book covers and things.”

“Why not just buy them and save all that time?”

With a shrug that showed she’d never thought of it, Willow said, “What would we do with the time we saved?”

Chad’s mouth opened to answer and then shut.  He’d never heard that question.  It seemed that everyone was looking for ways to save time but no one had ever questioned the validity of doing so.  “Well, isn’t there anything you always wish you had more time to do?”

“Fish.  I love to fish.  But I’d grow fat and lazy if I got to fish all I wanted.”

This announcement surprised him more than anything she’d said yet.  “You fish?”

“Love it.  I go every chance I get.  Othello hates it though because I chain him on fish days.  He scares away the fish.”

A thought occurred to him.  “Do you tie your own flies?”

Eagerly, she jumped up and rushed upstairs.  Minutes later, she lumbered back down them carrying a tackle box and a board with a tie vise mounted to it.  “I love tying flies.  I do it in winter when I can’t fish.  It keeps me from going crazy.”

One look at her flies and Chad wanted to hurry home for a rod.  “We’ll fish,” he said as though the question was settled.

They glanced over the ties and debated the merits and demerits of each before Willow picked up the things to carry them back upstairs.  Chad took it from her.  “I’ll carry it.  Show me the way.”

Shrugging, she climbed the steep stairs and opened the first door on the left.  “This is our craft room.  The board goes there.”  Willow indicated and empty space on a beautifully crafted bookshelf.

“That is one gorgeous bookshelf.  Where did you find that!”

“Mother made it a couple of years ago.  We’d been working with the first thing she ever made but it was amateurish and falling apart so Mother made a new one.”

He ran his fingers over the wood admiringly.  “Can you make things like this?”

“Not on your life.  I am lousy with a saw.  I can’t cut a 1″ yardstick much less a board.”  She paused with a wicked gleam in her eye.  “But Mother can’t fish well and I can so I think we’re even.”

Hardly noticing her joke, Chad read the titles of dozens of books.  “You have a book on how to do almost everything in here.  Candle making, soap making, knitting, sewing, spinning?  You have a book on how to spin?”

Her sigh was almost comical.  “I’ve always wanted to spin but Mother would never agree to sheep.  She said they were dumb animals and she wasn’t going to be bothered with them.”

“You’ll have to get a couple and try it.”  He paused at the expression on her face.  As though he could read her mind, he continued, “I didn’t mean to imply that there was anything wrong with your mother.  You’d just said that she told you that you should live your life how you like it and I thought-”

Her smile, though weak, relieved him.  “You’re right.  She did say that and I know she meant it.  She didn’t want to have to deal with sheep and the mess that comes with them but she didn’t mind if I did.  I think at some point I would have received a pair of lambs for a birthday or Christmas or Easter.”

A wide array of art supplies, fabric, and similar materials were stacked on shelves, in baskets, and something about the style of the baskets made Chad wonder if the Finley women hadn’t made them too.  “Is there anything you two don’t do?”

“Pottery.  It was too expensive to ship clay.  We considered going to black and white film so we could do our own photo developing but we love color too much.”

While upstairs, Willow showed Chad her room, her mother’s room, and a large room organized as a storage pantry.  “We keep our overflow canning and things in here.  Those bins with the locks are where we store Christmas and birthday presents.  That closet holds out of season clothes and…”

She explained their organization system as they returned downstairs.  Chad hardly listened.  Instead, he mentally calculated everything she’d described.  The women had hand painted their bathroom wall to look like wallpaper and every picture on the wall was one they’d drawn, stitched, painted, or photographed.  The quilts on the beds, the sheets, everything was stitched by one or the other of them if not both.  Even the large area rug in the oddly shaped living room was hand hooked.  The thought of all of their work was a little overwhelming.

“You’re a little like the Amish aren’t you?”

Smiling, Willow led him to a room to the right of the stairwell.  An unbelievable number of books occupied wall-to-wall shelves and shelves in the center of the room as well.  Just inside the door, she pointed to a shelf with at least a dozen books on the Amish lifestyle.

“Mother actually considered joining the Amish.  The first thing she did after she deposited ‘the bribe,’ as she called it, was to go to the library and research Amish theology.”

“I take it she wasn’t impressed?”

“Actually, she was for the most part.  The problem was, with each district being independent of the others, and because people often use the same theological terms for different things, Mother was afraid she’d make a poor choice and not know she’d done it until it was too late.  The last thing she wanted to do was start over her starting over.”

“What brought her here?”  Chad asked the question as he looked over the hundreds of books. 

“The day she gave up on the idea of the Amish, she went for a drive.  There was a for sale sign out at the road so she drove in and looked around.  It’d been the home of an elderly couple who moved into one of those retirement places.”

While Chad commented about the excellent condition of the house, Willow glowed.  “She did most of the work herself.  The house had to be completely renovated so it had new plumbing and wiring and all that stuff.  So Mother came in and made everything pretty.  She wanted new windows in the past few years but she didn’t want to have to undo all the trim work she did.”

Every window and doorway in the house had beautiful trim around it.  He’d noticed ivy vines, fleur de lis, and around the kitchen, grapes on the vine.  “Where did she find them?  It must have cost her a fortune.”

“Oak from Fairbury Hardware.  It was more expensive than the pine stuff but it holds up better.”

Shaking his head, Chad traced the ivy vines along the doorway into what he assumed was meant to be a dining room.  “No, these.  Where did she find these?  Hand carved molding and trim work isn’t cheap.”

She laughed.  “Fairbury Hardware.  She bought the plain oak pieces and hand carved them.  Her first ones are up in the attic.”

Closer examination showed flaws that might have otherwise been overlooked.  Chad traced the outline of the design and gave a low whistle.  “This took a lot of time.  I can’t believe she did this!”

“Winter evenings.  She started when I was around eight or nine.  She whittled a few things for my stocking that year and then wanted to do something more intricate so she came up with this idea.”

“I don’t know how you both had time to do so much and yet still worked so hard.”

Willow, tired and starting to come out of the fog she’d lived in for the past three days, collapsed onto the chaise near the door, and sighed.  “I think that’s the secret.  We worked hard enough to keep us busy- the Amish influence I guess, but we used modern conveniences and things to leave us enough time to fill with relaxing and hobbies.”

Weariness seemed to engulf her.  Chad noticed a change in her demeanor and decided it was time to leave.  “Hey.  I was planning to challenge you to a rematch on those checkers but I have to be at work tomorrow and after chasing you down, I’m beat.  Mind if I come out Saturday or something and beat you before work?”

“What time is work?”

“Shift starts at two,” he answered lazily.

Just as Chad shut the door of his truck and inserted the key in the ignition, he saw Willow fly out of the house, across the yard, and to his window.  He rolled it down, surprised to see her upset so quickly.  She must have been holding back as long as she could.

“Chad, do you think I’ve been secretly disrespecting of my mother all these years?”

His brain tried to follow the question but he felt at a loss to understand what Willow meant.  “Huh?”  His eloquent response earned him a mental kick from himself.

“I keep doing things that Mother didn’t like or wouldn’t have done.  Inviting you and the Varney’s to visit, writing Grandmother and Grandfather- even the rest of the family…”  Her voice trailed as she thought of the repercussions of her actions but then continued.  “And of course, I moved her commentaries, I ate in her spot at the living room table when she never would do that and I’m thinking about getting sheep.  Have I been in some kind of secret rebellion all these years?”

Chad patted her forearm and shook his head.  “I think you’re trying to exert control wherever you can so you don’t have to face everything at once.  If you tried to keep everything exactly the same, you’d find yourself constantly reminded of your loss.  Making changes that you said yourself your mom said might happen, is just a way of keeping yourself sane.”

A strange look clouded her eyes and she sighed.  “Is insanity such a bad thing?  Sometimes it sounds like a blissful escape.”

Without another word, Willow returned to the house.  Chad watched, concerned, hanging one arm over the steering wheel, and resting his chin on his wrist.  A light flickered in the living room and then went out again.  Undecided, he paused with his hand on the door handle.  Something about her demeanor bothered him. 

A light flickered in an upstairs room.  Chad mentally climbed her stairs, turned in the hallway, and deduced that she was in the bathroom.  For a moment, he turned cold and pulled on the door handle.  As he pushed open the door, the light went out.  Seconds later, it glowed in Willow’s bedroom.  The silhouette of Willow unzipping her dress was enough for him.  Chad slammed the door shut, started the engine, and backed all the way down the driveway. 

Willow heard the door slam and glanced out her window.  Chad’s vehicle zipping down the driveway in reverse confused her.  “It looks like his truck is broken.  It won’t even go forward!” she mused as she grabbed her favorite pajamas and slid under the covers.

Chapter 3- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 3

The sun streamed into her east window the next morning.  Willow woke, dressed in her customary jeans and blouse, and froze before her mother’s bedroom.  The memory of the previous day covered her like a smothering blanket on a summer day. 

“Oh Lord, I don’t think I am prepared for this,” she murmured as she hurried to do her usual morning tasks and her mother’s as well.

By ten-thirty, she’d fed the animals, eaten breakfast, and set the house to right.  She now sat at the kitchen table wearing her favorite dress and pouring over her mother’s ‘manuals’.  Several hand-decorated journals lay in piles around her as she studied them.

Kari Finley’s journals were ordered first by subject, then year.  Titles of things like ‘Gardening’ and ‘Repairs’ were written in beautiful calligraphy and then embellished with beautiful patterns of flowers, curls, and one with hand pressed flowers.  Inside they were carefully ordered with a table of contents and the date of the original journal entry and volume on each separate entry.  The detail would have been remarkable to a casual observer but to Willow, it was simply her mother’s way.

She made notes as she read.  Columns on the paper showed her plans as compared with her mother’s notes and the plans she’d made for the coming weeks.  As a child, she’d been annoyed by how carefully her mother planned their work.  Impromptu fishing trips were difficult when mother had plans for canning, planting, or chicken butchering.

Willow pushed the notes and journals from her and rubbed her temples.  The clock struck noon reminding her that she needed food and water.  She carried her bread to the barn and made a chicken salad sandwich with huge leafy leaves of lettuce peeking from the edges and a sliced tomato on the side.  Othello tried to convince her that he needed the food but she ignored the suggestion and took the plate inside.

At the kitchen table, she paused.  Mother had always insisted that they eat at the kitchen table.  Willow thought it’d be nice occasionally to eat at the little table by the window in the living room where they played cards and games but her mother always laughed as though it was a joke rather than a serious suggestion and meals continued as ever.

Without a second thought, she moved into the living room and put her plate in her accustomed place.  An empty mosaic vase, one she’d made as a young girl in fact, stood empty on a nearby shelf.  Determined to enjoy the afternoon as much as possible, Willow grabbed the vase, retrieved a pair of scissors, and went out to the flower garden where she snipped a wide variety of flowers and arranged them clumsily in the vase. 

As she carried the vase back to the small table, she noticed a different view than she’d ever seen as she stood behind her mother’s old chair and placed the vase on the table.  Feeling somewhat rebellious, she transferred her plate to “mother’s” side of the table and sat in the chair.  Instantly, the feeling was gone.  Instead, an overwhelming sense of her mother’s presence filled her. 

Willow saw the world from her mother’s vantage point.  She could imagine herself as a little girl, both long pigtails flopping on the table as she wrote in her own journals and her hands flipping them aside impatiently.  She saw the little girl she once was chasing the dog, throwing sticks down the long driveway, and hiding from him as he retrieved them.  Willow was a teenager before she understood how the dog always found her no matter where she managed to hide.

Three bites into her sandwich, a strange sound echoed from the kitchen.  She rushed from the table until she realized that it must be the cell phone.  By the time she’d found the phone, located the instructions, and flipped it open to follow them, the ringing stopped.  She sighed in frustration and stared interestedly at an unfamiliar number.  It wasn’t the one for her phone or the one Chad had given her.  Experimenting, she dialed the number and pushed the ’send’ button. 

No one was on the other end of the phone.  It just made an unusual ringing sound so Willow started to turn it off.  Just then, she heard a voice.  “Hello?”

Eagerly, Willow spoke clearly and precisely into the mouthpiece hoping, she’d be understood.  “Yes, this number was on my cell phone.  My name is Willow Finley.”

“Oh yes, Miss Finley.  This is James over at the Fairbury Mortuary.  I was wondering whether you could come in this afternoon to discuss arrangements?”

“Oh no that won’t work.  I can’t come in today.  I have a lot of work left to do but I can try to get ahead this afternoon and come in tomorrow morning.  What time would you like me to be there?”

Taken aback at her refusal to consider coming that day, James Jorgensen suggested she arrive at ten o’clock to go over the arrangements.  “Please bring a list of anyone you would like for us to contact and the name of your preferred minister.”

After she clicked the phone shut and assured herself it was off, Willow realized that she didn’t have a ‘preferred minister’ and that she should find the list of family her mother had left in the packet in the firebox.  She hurried to finish her meal and clean up her studying so she could begin correspondence.  As she stacked the journals and started upstairs with them, she paused.  “Keeping them in her old room doesn’t make sense.  I need them down here,” Willow muttered to herself.

She glanced around the room to find an optimal place for the collection but the room was carefully arranged with a perfect ‘home’ for every item in the room.  The living room, however, had a shelf of commentaries that she’d always despised.  Mother loved to read them in the evenings sometimes and had a habit of reading aloud a tidbit that interested her and then continuing for several pages before she realized she was still reading aloud.  Meanwhile Willow, grinding her teeth in frustration, sat waiting for her mother to return to her silent reading so she could continue with another exciting mystery.

Those commentaries soon sat on her mother’s bookshelf in her bedroom and her mother’s journals took their place.  As much as it made sense, she felt a momentary twinge of remorse as she saw another change she’d made in such a short time.  It seemed as though she was an invader rearranging her own home.

***

Thursday morning found her walking along the highway again.  This time, she tucked her hair neatly under a scarf and carried a tote bag.  Inside the bag were her nicest sandals but she wore her athletic work shoes ‘tennis shoes’ her mother called them but the boxes always said ‘athletic shoes’ when they arrived.

She stopped at the familiar convenience store and entered the bathroom feeling a little strange.  This time she was the woman conducting business in town.  Today, she changed her shoes, removed her scarf, and brushed out her long wavy hair.  With a quick rinse to her face, arms, and hands, she left the restroom looking slightly original but not the backward and out of date woman of earlier that week.

Inside the convenience store, she purchased a bottle of water.  Her mother always said it was only polite to purchase something after using their ‘facilities’ so she bought water instead of carrying her own.  The cashier smiled at her and wished her a nice day.

“Thank you.  I don’t think it will be though.  Can you tell me where to find the Mortuary?  I need to speak to James Jorgensen at the Fairbury Mortuary but I’m not sure how to find it.”

Stumbling over herself in apology, the young woman, approximately Willow’s age, directed her to Main Street and to East Elm.  “It’s at the end of the block on the right.  Right in front of the cemetery.  I’m- I’m sorry for your loss.”

Willow thanked her and walked the eight blocks to the mortuary taking notice of the town as though she’d never seen it before.  She’d been to the dentist twice.  His office was directly behind ‘the Fox’ as mother called it.  The Clinic wasn’t far from there.  She’d had a tetanus booster there two years ago when she’d stepped on a nail in the barnyard.  It hadn’t been rusty but with a puncture wound, they had decided to walk to town and get the shot anyway.

She’d never visited the market or stores.  Her mother had purchased fruit anytime she was in town but Willow had always been content to stay outside and watch the people coming and going.  But other than a glance in the windows, she’d never been what people call ’shopping’ in her life and for the first time, the idea appealed to her.

A glance at her watch was enough to hurry her along to the Mortuary.  Just outside the gates of the mortuary, the phone in her tote bag rang.  She dug for it, eventually finding it in one of her shoes and wondering how it had worked itself in there so quickly.  “Yes?  This is Willow Finley.  Who is it?”

William Franklin’s voice sent her into a apologetic tizzy.  “Oh Mr. Franklin, I am so sorry!  The mortuary called yesterday and wanted me to come right away and I couldn’t so I said I’d come this morning at ten o’clock.  I forgot you were coming too.”

“No worries,” he said in his soothing voice over the phone.  “I’m turning into Fairbury right now.  I was going on to your house so you wouldn’t have to walk but if you’re already in town, I’ll meet you outside the door.”

She protested and suggested she go inside and wait so as not to be late for her appointment but Bill Franklin insisted that she wait for him.  “I’ve not dealt with Fairbury Mortuary but even the most reputable companies are there to sell you as much as they can convince you that you need.  Ok, I’ll talk to you in a minute.  I’m turning onto Elm.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Bill Franklin wrapped his arms around Willow and hugged her briefly.  “I’m very sorry.  I had a high respect for your mother.  Kari was a good woman.  She gave me a chance when I was just barely out of college and I’ve always appreciated it.”

Willow gave him a watery smile and nodded.  “Mother always said you reminded her of her little brother.  I think she thought of you as a replacement for Uncle Kirk.”

Inside, the sounds of bubbling brooks and twittering birds surrounded them.  Willow glanced around the room confused until Bill whispered, “It’s a recording.  They do it to soothe people.”

Before she could respond, James Jorgensen, built like a linebacker and with a grin too broad and happy to fit a stereotypical mortician, hurried to greet them.  “Welcome.  I am so sorry for your loss!  Please come right in and we’ll get everything settled for you.”

Bill waited until Willow was seated and then turned to James.  “Can you give us a moment please?  I’m here to help Miss Finley with the arrangements and I truly don’t know what she has in mind.”

“Well I’ll be happy to show you some options-”

“Shall we step outside instead?”

James waved him back in his seat and hurried out the door closing it behind him.  Bill sat next to Willow in a semi-facing chair and spoke candidly.  “Have you ever been to a funeral Willow?”

“No.” 

Since she didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, Bill tried again.  “Did your mother ever discuss them?  Did she ever state a preference or an opinion on them?”

Willow shook her head and then stopped and nodded.  “I do remember her talking about her grandmother’s funeral when she was eight and how her parents hadn’t been able to stop a huge expensive affair that Great Grandmother Finley would have hated.  I think- I got the impression that Mother agreed that a lavish funeral was distasteful.”

Now they were getting somewhere.  “Do you have an opinion on cremation vs. burial?”

“I don’t know.  I think I’m more familiar with burial.  Cremation seems disconnected or something.”  She pulled another of the decorated manila envelopes from her tote bag.  “I think I’d rather you look this over instead of Mr. Jorgensen.  He seems nice but you’re a friend-” Willow stumbled over her words.  “-or as near to one as I have.”

Bill Franklin took the packet and squeezed her hand as he did.  “I’m a friend Willow.  I’m glad you trust me with this.”

He pulled a few hand written letters from the packet.  There were addressed envelopes in it and letters for each.  They all said very similar things.  Kari had died, the funeral wasn’t decided as of yet, but if they wanted to come they could call the funeral home for information etc.  However, the letter to Kari’s parents was different.  He read it interestedly.

“Dear Grandmother and Grandfather Finley,

I write today to tell you that Mother has died.  I know that she would want me to tell you as soon as possible in case you wished to say goodbye in person.  There will be a funeral but I do not know yet when or where.  Please contact the Fairbury Mortuary for further information.  I believe James Jorgensen is the man in charge.

I know that Mother’s disappearance and continued absence from your life must have hurt you a great deal.  I am sorry for that and I know it hurt Mother as well.  However, I do hope that we can begin a regular correspondence.  I would like to know that I do have some family- that I am not completely alone in the world.  That must sound incredibly selfish but it is true.  I am feeling rather small and lost right now.  Sometimes I think I’ll wake up and realize that this isn’t a terrible dream- that this is reality.  Then I am afraid.

Most sincerely,

Your granddaughter,

Willow Anne Finley

 

William Franklin had never read anything so heart wrenching.  “Oh Willow-” His words were cut short when he saw the address on the envelope.  “Rockland?  Your grandparents live in Rockland?”

“I believe that most of my family does.  There is an address for Chicago but the rest are in Rockland or one of the other towns around the loop.”

Unable to fathom Kari’s reasoning, Bill couldn’t help but ask, “Why?  Why did she keep herself shut away?”

“Do you know the circumstances of my birth?”  Willow’s matter-of-fact tone didn’t prepare him for her response to his negative reply.  “She was raped and the father of the man who attacked her paid her to stay out of their lives and not to go to the police.  Mother accepted those terms by her definition and knowing the pressure she’d be under by family and friends, she just disappeared.”

Bill couldn’t answer.  Before he found any words with which to reply, a gentle knock sounded on the door and James opened it cautiously.  “Are we ready?  I have another family coming in at eleven-thirty and-”

“We’re ready.  We need to plan for a burial preferably on Saturday or Monday.  Whichever the local minister can accommodate will do.”

James stood again.  “Let’s go take a look at your coffin options then.”

Bill placed his hand gently but firmly on Willow’s arm keeping her in her seat.  “That won’t be necessary.  She has decided on the most basic coffin you carry.”

James pulled a brochure out of his desk drawer, pushed it across the table, and began explaining the options as well as the advantages and disadvantages to each but Bill stopped him.  “I see.  We’ll have to go to Rockland then.  I know that much less elaborate coffins are available there and Miss Finley does not want an extravagant set up.”

Blustering a bit, James pulled out another brochure.  “I don’t like to show this to people.  We only keep one of each in stock in the back for charity cases and such.  Most people are insulted if I offer them something so shabby…”

Very decisively, Willow pointed to the third coffin shown in the brochure.  “Mother would have approved of that one.  I’d like that.”

A million details followed, each more exasperating than the last until finally Willow stood.  “I am done here.  I want that casket, a plot in the cemetery if we cannot get a permit to bury her on our property, and a nice minister to perform the- the whatever it’s called- funeral.”  She took a deep breath and continued.  “I want a prayer, Mother’s favorite scripture read, and we’ll sing Our God is Alive.” 

Smiling through unshed tears, Willow nodded at Bill Franklin.  “I’ll see you back at my house.  I trust you for the rest of the decisions but as far as a ceremony or whatever, that’s all I want.  It’s all mother would have wanted.  I’ll pick her some of our flowers and cover the coffin with them or maybe she can hold them.  Whichever.  Please try to get a permit for burial at the farm.”

With that, she rushed from the building but neither man followed.  They stared at one another for a moment before James Jorgensen said, “Wow.  She’s going to crash hard when it hits her but right now, wow.”

Bill glanced at the closed door and nodded.  “Wow.”

***

Willow passed a small deli just around the corner from the mortuary.  She’d never eaten in a restaurant- for that matter; she’d never eaten away from home except for their occasional picnics at the lake.  Suddenly, she felt a keen desire to try restaurant food.

A line to the door of the deli dissuaded her from entering.  She asked a woman going into the deli if there was a good restaurant in town and was directed to Marcello’s Fine Cuisine.  Once inside, she knew she’d been sent to exactly the kind of restaurant mentioned in her favorite novels.

Stunned at the prices of the food, she quickly opened her tote and retrieved her mother’s wallet.  She hadn’t counted the money from the teapot; she’d just taken a handful and left another handful for another time.  Seeing a hundred dollar bill, she breathed a sigh of relief and slipped the wallet back into her purse.  As she did, her phone rang sending shrill sounds reverberating around the quiet room. 

“Oh I am sorry!” she exclaimed as she struggled to find a way to turn it off.  In exasperation, she flipped the phone open and then shut it again disconnecting the call.

A waiter hurried to her table and asked if she’d mind setting the phone to vibrate but she just wanted to turn it off.  He showed her how to turn the phone completely off and then turn it back on again when she was out of the building.  “But it’s not necessary miss, we just ask that people put it on vibrate so as not to disturb our other diners.”

“Well, it would be rude for me to talk while eating anyway so I’ll just turn it off.”  As she spoke, she noticed several people mumbling into their phones, many with a lunch partner waiting for them to complete their call.  “What is so important to discuss that you can’t wait until after you eat?” she mused aloud.

“That’s the question of the age miss.  Can I get you something to drink?”

And so began the meal with the most interesting customer the waiter Brendan had ever had.  She asked about everything and finally settled on lemonade.  At first, she’d chosen hard lemonade thinking it was extra sour.  When she couldn’t produce identification to prove her age, a question she’d found incredibly amusing, Brendan said, “Sorry miss, we can’t serve alcoholic drinks to anyone who looks under thirty-five without identification.”

“Alcoholic!  I just want nice sour lemonade!  I don’t drink alcohol.”

Every lunch special sounded better than the last until she finally said, “Choose something for me.  Anything.  I just don’t want anything with tuna.  Tuna is for winter.”

Unable to find a suitable response for such a strange statement, Brendan suggested the chicken marsala and breathed a sigh of relief when she agreed.  As she waited for her meal, she picked at her salad and watched the activity at the restaurant with great interest.  Business people discussed things in hushed serious tones and occasionally glanced at paperwork with concentrated expressions on their faces.  Couples ate slowly occasionally touching a hand or even a face.  Inside jokes made ordinary things seem delightful and the scenes were very interesting to Willow.  One couple, obviously married for many years, ate in a rhythm almost synchronized.  Each movement was anticipated by the other and countered with their own.  Unspoken requests were filled and all without looking at one another.  Finally, both glanced up at each other at exactly the same time and their faces lit up with a special understanding that seemed particularly precious to her.  She’d never seen that kind of relationship in action.  It was all so interesting and exciting.

She walked up Main Street to the convenience store and entered the restroom.  As she changed her shoes, she thought over the lunch, the menu, the ridiculous amount of money she’d spent for a single meal and then her heart sank.

“I forgot a tip!  I knew there was something else.  In books- and Mother mentioned it too I know- they always leave a tip for the waiter!”

She hastily put her sandals back on her feet and hurried back to the restaurant.  Outside, on the side of the building with another waiter, Brendan sipped at a bottle of soda and puffed on a cigarette.  The other waiter nudged Brendan as she hurried toward them.

“Oh I’m so glad I found you.  I forgot to leave a tip.  You were such a good waiter too.  I’m very sorry.”  She blushed, mortified at both her inexperience and her forgetfulness.  “I can’t remember what is expected- I’ve never left a tip before, can you help me?”

The other waiter grinned and quipped, “Well for great service, you usually leave the equivalent to half of the bill; otherwise twenty-five percent is all it’s worth.”

Brendan punched his friend and shook his head.  “Don’t listen to him.  Fifteen percent is customary.  Twenty at night with good service.  But honestly-”

She thrust a few bills at him and smiled.  “Thank you.  You made my first meal at a restaurant a wonderful experience.  Other waiters might not have been so kind.”  She gave the man next to Brendan a knowing look and walked away.

“Thanks!”  Brendan called after her but Willow didn’t turn around.  He counted a twenty-five percent tip and realized as he did that she knew how much she was giving him.  “Wow.”

Chapter 2- Part 2

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow

Chapter 2- Part 1

Out for nap- be back soon!

~Willow