Past Forward Volume 1

by Chautona Havig

  Willow’s shock amused him. Bill had expected she didn’t realize how little money they spent of the principal and interest that grew every year. “I had no idea we spent so much money! How long will it last?” Uncertainty crept into her features.

  “Indefinitely at the rate you’re spending. It grows every year, Willow.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Bill spent the next twenty minutes explaining compound interest, cost of living, inflation, and taxes. He was quite proud of his impromptu lesson in consumer mathematics and waited eagerly for the light bulb of understanding to illuminate her features. It never lit.

  “I know all of that. Mother taught me about interest.”

  Bill was nearly speechless. In one final desperate attempt to make her understand, he tried again. “How much money do you think I have to have to live in my apartment, travel like I do, and have the lifestyle I have? How much do you think I earn?”

  “Probably about the same as me. I mean, you have more expensive things, but I have land and animals and you have furniture and a vehicle.”

  “Let’s just say that I earn six figures a year, and I’ll never manage to save and invest enough to match your accounts.”

  Innocently, Willow mumbled aloud, “I wonder how much Chad makes. I’ll have to ask him. That is fascinating.”

  “No!” Bill saw her startle at his emphatic response and tried again. “It’s not generally considered a polite question. You don’t ask people how much money they make or spend.”

  “You did.”

  He groaned and tried again. “I’m your financial advisor. I’m an exception. I’m trying to get through to you that you are a wealthy woman. You’ll continue to be very comfortably well off even if you decided to live a normal middle class lifestyle.”

  As though she hadn’t heard the word, “wealthy” Willow latched onto his final words. “We live quite well! Anything we want, we buy. We have all the supplies we ever need! I’m going to make a new rug this winter!”

  Bill stood and offered his hand. He knew he couldn’t make her understand, at least not right then, that their wants were amazingly simple and few—very different from the wants of most of the country. “Let’s go meet the Presidents and sit in the Oval Office.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Othello raised his head limply and then flopped back to the mound that covered his late mistress as Chad bounced along the drive. He parked, grabbed a bowl of water and packet of dog meat from the fridge, and trudged out to the grave. The animal didn’t even attempt to rise to meet him.

  Chad tilted the animal’s head and gazed into its cloudy eyes. He sighed, his breath ragged. “Oh, Othello, you can’t. She can’t handle more loss. Please… Drink.”

  The dog merely whimpered and turned away. Chad dropped his arms on his knees and hung his head, praying. Minutes later, when the dog’s eyes froze in death, Chad sighed. “Oh, Lord, how will I tell her?”

  Heart heavy, Chad trudged back to the barn for a shovel. By the third shovelful, he remembered to pray, but each attempt fizzled in a buzz in his mind that refused to make sense. “Whatever,” he muttered as he flung more dirt on the growing mound beside his hole. How long it took to do it, Chad didn’t know, but his muscles ached as he shook the last shovelful of dirt over the little mound.

  I hope I did the right thing. She wouldn’t want to come home to that, would she? Lord, please… Shoulders slumped, Chad carried the bowl and shovel back to the barn and dumped them inside the door.

  The pup bounced obnoxiously around his ankles as he filled the water pot and grabbed the milking pail. Chad called reassurances to Wilhelmina as he entered the pen and filled the feeding trough with loose alfalfa. The goat stepped around skittishly and then kicked the puppy, sending it flying across the pen.

  Chad watched as the pup whimpered, stood, shook her head, and walked, a little drunken-looking, back toward Wilhelmina. “Oh, no you don’t, girl,” Chad warned as he pushed the wriggling puppy away again. “One lost dog is enough for one day.”

  Pup fed, he dragged himself up the steps and into the house. The heat stifled him, but he chose not to turn on the fans. Not now. Not today. Kari’s journals lay on the coffee table, and eager to take his mind off the gloom of the evening, he picked one up, flipping the pages listlessly. The clock chimed six-thirty. He tried to read again—fail.

  With great reluctance, he pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his address book for Bill Franklin’s number. When Bill answered, Chad spoke one sentence. Only one. “I’ve just buried Othello.”

  His phone buzzed. Bill slipped it out of his pocket, noting the exasperated expression on Willow’s face. He could hear her thoughts as clearly as if she spoke them. What is so important that you can’t wait until after a meal to answer that?

  Chad. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore it. The call could be about anything. The man was an officer—if something— Decision made, he slid open the phone and murmured, “Yes?”

  It was the last thing he expected to hear—the worst. She’d be devastated. Surprise melded into dismay and then burst into anger. He slid the phone shut with a snap.

  “Is everything ok?”

  “No, but it’ll keep. Have you decided what you want to order?”

  Willow shook her head ruefully. “It all sounds so bizarre and exotic. Why don’t you choose something you think I’ll like?”

  The sushi experience with Willow was delightful. They ordered different appetizer samplers and her reaction to each one was more entertaining than the last. She loved some, wrinkled her nose and pushed away others, and in the end, sat back in the chair and sighed. “This was so much fun!”

  Bill glanced at his watch. It was only seven-thirty, but he knew it might be a late night when she discovered her dog was gone. With church the next day—her walking the five miles—she needed her rest. “Have you considered getting a car?”

  Her laughter rang out through the room. A few diners around them sent strange looks in their direction, but Willow didn’t seem to notice. “What would I do with a car?”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have to walk into town anymore; you wouldn’t have to carry things back from town, and you could—” He paused. Maybe it was too soon to expect her to want to visit him spontaneously.

  “I could what?”

  “Well, you might want to come into the city, see the sights, do some shopping, take me out to dinner—”

  “Walk on your walk-mill.”

  “Treadmill.”

  “Treadmill,” she agreed. “Can I try it before we go home?”

  “You want to use my treadmill.” Bill was dumfounded.

  “It’s such an interesting machine. You have a city full of interesting places to see, and yet you have a machine so you can stay home to walk.”

  “I have a city full of unsafe places to walk.”

  Willow seemed lost in thought before she said, “Very true. So will you let me try? I want to see how long I can walk on it.”

  Even with the lights of the city, the darkness of night seemed to lessen her panic as they neared his building. Her fear seemed more reasonable as he watched it loosen its grip each time she faced it. His prior concern that it would keep her from Rockland as Kari’s had dissipated. She’d be fine; in time, Willow would be just fine.

  In his apartment, he dug through his closet drawers and found old swim trunks with a drawstring and a t-shirt. Willow donned them quickly, nearly bubbling with excitement to try out something that seemed so mundane to him. How long before she lost some of that? Would it be refreshing or disappointing? He couldn’t tell. Occasional moments of childlike wonder were charming, but would a steady stream of it be annoying? He feared it would—hoped it would not.

  Willow, in shorts to her knees, a shirt nearly as long, with sleeves to her elbow, and her hair tied back with the rubber band from his newspaper was an utterly different kind of attractive. Within minutes she knew exactly how to operate the mac
hine, increasing speed and incline at will. His eyes watched the clock, timing her to see how long it would take her to break a sweat. He flushed when ten minutes later the first signs of perspiration showed on her upper lip.

  He excused himself and slipped into his bathroom. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, Bill dialed his last call and waited for Chad to answer. “Hey, it’s Bill. What should I do about Willow?”

  “Where are you?”

  Anticipating Chad’s surprise, Bill said, “My place. Willow wanted to try out my treadmill.”

  “Treadmill?”

  “I know, crazy right? She’s obsessed. She’s been on it for fifteen minutes, and it’s like watching the Energizer bunny. She keeps on going and going and going...”

  “Well, that’s Willow. She didn’t even seem the slightest bit winded after carrying home that suitcase.”

  “So what should I do? Do I tell her about the dog or what?”

  Chad’s silence was unnerving, but at last, he spoke. “I think I should tell her. I don’t want to, but I should. I don’t know how she’ll take it. Do you know how long they’ve had that dog?”

  Bill thought for several seconds before replying, “Well, I think they got him four or five years after I started going out there, so he has to be seven or eight years old.”

  “Ok,” Chad decided. “I think you need to tell her that I called and have something to discuss with her, so you’re going to just drop her off and go back home. I’m really sorry for ruining your evening, but I have to work at ten tomorrow. I’ve gotta get some sleep soon, but I think she’d take this better from me.”

  “I understand. I appreciate it. I’m not very good with these things. At least you get some training...”

  Dead phone in hand, Bill left the bathroom somewhat subdued. Their day—so full of fun and good times—he had enjoyed it more than he had expected. Not only did he not want it to end, he certainly didn’t want it to end the way it would.

  Seeing Willow, he laughed. Sweat dampened the shirt slightly, and she walked with purpose. Regardless, it didn’t seem to faze her physically. “I knew you were amazing, Willow, but this is just embarrassing.”

  Half way up the drive, Willow spotted the light from her living room windows. “Chad must still be here. I didn’t expect him to wait for me. Now I feel terrible.”

  “Why?” Bill was stalling and he knew it. The car slowed until it barely crept along the lane.

  “When I came back from the court thing in Rockland, I mentioned how sad it was that Mother wasn’t there to welcome me home. He must have—”

  “That’s not it,” Bill began. Nerves twisted into a knot in his stomach. She’d cry tonight. Thank God for Tesdall, he thought to himself. “He has something to talk to you about. I got a message from him when you were on the treadmill.” Before his words could sink in and she asked any uncomfortable questions, Bill kept talking. “I had a wonderful time today, Willow. Thank you for coming.”

  Her mind distracted from Chad, the lit house, and looming discussions on mysterious topics, Willow unconsciously laid her hand on his arm and said, “I had a wonderful time too! Thank you so much for taking me to the clothing store; I’m sure it wasn’t much fun for you. Oh, and don’t forget to reimburse yourself for my clothes and food and everything.”

  Bill shook his head. “I’ll cut me a check for your clothes, Willow, but our meals are on me.”

  “I can’t let you pay for my food! You did that last time. If anything, I should have paid for your dinner. It was my turn.”

  He stopped the car, three hundred yards from the house in the middle of the driveway, and put it in park. He switched on the interior light and said, “Willow, I wanted to take you out for the day. I wanted to treat you. Think of it as a gift that someone wanted to give you. You accept the gift, but do you write a check out for the cost?”

  He watched as understanding dawned. “Oh.” She blinked. “How obtuse of me, this was a date!” She shook her head as though amazed and then gave him a slow smile. “What would Mother say?”

  Bill knew she wasn’t thinking of their day as anything but fun and a kind gesture on his part and her realization caught him off guard. “What do you mean? You think your mother would object?”

  “I think my mother would shake her head and ask if there was nothing that I wanted that I wouldn’t eventually get.” His eyes widened in surprise, but before Bill could respond, Willow unintentionally stomped down fledgling hopes. “Remember, I had a crush on you once. Delayed gratification is still gratification. Oh, Mother! If you could see me…”

  Her voice choked mid laugh, and she pressed her lips together. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached behind his seat and pulled out her purse and the souvenir bag from the museum. When she opened the car door, Bill caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to get Chad out of my house.”

  Those words were the last he expected to hear. His brilliant reply left him groaning in disgust with himself. “Huh?”

  “He has to work tomorrow morning, so if there is something we have to talk about, I need to get in there so he can get home. Thanks again.” She stepped onto the drive.

  “Get in.”

  “What?”

  Bill’s voice grew slightly more insistent. “I said, get in.”

  Willow started to acquiesce but stopped with one foot raised. “Why?”

  “You’re not walking the rest of the way up this thing alone. What kind of jerk do you think I am?”

  Bill saw the front door open and Chad emerge from the house and sighed. “Well, looks like he’s waiting for you.” The car stopped. “I’ll get your door.”

  With a hand on his arm, Willow stopped him. “I offended you. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I just wish things could be different.”

  She smiled brightly at him. “They can. Next time.”

  “Will there be a next time?”

  She opened the door, exited, and stuck her head back into the car and said, before closing it firmly. “That, my friend, is entirely up to you.”

  Chad waited as Willow made her way up the path to the porch, waving at Bill as he turned around and drove back down the driveway. Not knowing what else to do, he met her at the bottom of the steps and took her hand. “I have something to tell you.”

  Willow set her things on the steps and walked with Chad as he led her around the barn and across the meadow to the oak tree where her mother’s grave looked disturbed. She gave him a pained look and tried to tear her hand free of his to rush to the grave, but Chad held her back. “Willow wait.”

  “Someone has messed with Mother’s grave! Let me go!”

  “I did that,” Chad began miserably.

  All struggle ceased and Willow’s face lifted to look at his. The moonlight silhouetted them near the tree—his hand holding hers, their faces seeming to draw slowly closer. A car passed along the highway and Chad could only imagine what the people inside thought. They were dea—there he went with the wrong word again. They were wrong.

  “What is it Chad? Why did you mess with Mother’s grave?” Tears hovered around her eyes as she pulled her hand from his, stepping closer to where the small mound lay.

  A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed hard, pushing it back down for a moment. Chad struggled with how to tell her—what he could say that wouldn’t be so blunt. One step closer, he took her hand again. “I thought you and your mother would like Othello to rest there with her.”

  “Oth—” her eyes sought the grave again and saw what she’d missed the first time. It wasn’t one disturbed mound but two. “No…”

  She sank onto the freshly dug grave, her hand holding tight to Chad’s, and pulling him down with her. She stared, seemingly unmoved, for some time at the dirt beneath her fingers. “I was going to name the puppy Desdemona,” she commented flatly.

  “Demonwhat?”

  “Desdemona. She was Othello’s wife in the play. I even imagined her having Othello’s
puppies. Wouldn’t they have been adorable?”

  Chad didn’t know what to think. They sat for some time on the little pile of dirt that covered a long-loved pet of hers, but Willow seemed almost unaffected. He felt a raindrop and glanced up at a cloudless sky. Stars twinkled above; the moon shone. Another drop splashed. With the third, he tilted Willow’s face and saw her fighting back tears.

  “Don’t Willow. Let—”

  “I know it’s silly. He was a dog, a pet. He wasn’t—but I got him as a puppy for Christmas one year. The feed store brought him with our order and left him with a big red bow on top of a bag of chicken feed.”

  “You loved him.”

  She wiped at her eyes impatiently shaking her head. “He was just a pet. It’s not like losing Mother.”

  “It’s ok to love a pet, Willow.”

  “But—”

  With a tenderness Chad didn’t know he possessed, he caught her other hand. Holding both hands in one of his, he used the back of his knuckles to brush away a few missed tears and pulled her firmly to his chest. “Shh. No more excuses. Cry it out. You lost not only a dear friend, but you also lost him on the heels of losing your mother. I imagine the grief is intertwined.”

  “Bill knew about this didn’t he?”

  “He knew.”

  Willow sobbed. She wailed. She tore her hands from Chad’s and pounded fists against the dirt until Chad pulled her back to him and then she pounded his chest. “Just leave me alone.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Willow. Not until you’ve let it all out.”

  Time crawled for Chad as he sat holding her, trying to comfort her through what he suspected was more than the loss of a dog—one she wouldn’t allow herself to mourn without permission. Kari’s influence he suspected. He should have known that recent wounds would reopen with this newest one. He remembered how Luke had encouraged him to consider a pastorate and praised the Lord, as he wiped yet more tears from Willow’s face, that he’d been steadfast in his determination to be a police officer.