At Chad’s insistence, Christopher took Willow home once he fell asleep. Though she didn’t want to leave, she knew that she’d never sleep at the motel across the street, and now that they knew what was wrong with him and that he’d be safe, she felt comfortable leaving. They expected to bring him home Sunday morning. Less than twenty-four hours—she didn’t need to worry anymore.
“Willow, do you know how happy this family is going to be? How happy Marianne and I are?”
This, she hadn’t expected. “Why?”
“We love you. But more importantly, Chad loves you.”
Willow struggled to reply but didn’t know how to say what was on her heart. “Your family made me feel welcome from the first time I met you. Thank you.”
Trees whizzed by and the night seemed to grow stiller around them. “I need to tell you a little about Chad,” Christopher began. “I’m sure you’ve heard us talk about Linnea Burrell.”
“The girl from his high school?”
“Yes, has he told you about her?”
Shaking her head, Willow confessed she’d been curious. “It sounds like she made a big impact on him though.”
“Chad’s always been a little sensitive. I never understood that side of him.” His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, and Willow watched as his knuckles went white. “Cheri has always been stronger emotionally than he is. When Chad went to camp that year, I almost said no, but they worked with the weak side of his personality and helped make him stronger.”
This was a surprise. “Chad went to camp with Cheri?”
“No, he went a few years before her.”
“The same camp?” Her eyes grew wide, the same horror filling her that she’d felt when Cheri talked about her experience. “How horrible that you sent her to a place you trusted and that helped him, and then she was—oh, Christopher, I’m so sorry.”
“Well, it wasn’t like that, but we agreed not to talk about it. Needless to say, it helped prepare him for the next year when Linnea intertwined herself into our family. Chad didn’t see that his kindness to a lost girl would endear her to him.”
“Sounds familiar,” Willow agreed.
“With one glaring difference.”
“What? She just seemed alone and I really am?”
Christopher’s hand squeezed hers. The gesture, while so simple, reminded her of Chad. “Chad was inveigled into being her main support. It was his fault too, but she was a master manipulator. None of us saw it until it was too late. She declared her undying love, and when Chad couldn’t reciprocate, she accused him of unspeakable things.”
“Oh, no! Chad—”
“If her sister hadn’t stolen her diary and turned it into the police, Linnea would have ruined my son’s life for a very long time.”
“What—” Willow was afraid to ask.
“She accused him of leading her on, then dumping her, and when she called him on it, she claimed that he tried to force—”
“Oh, Chad would never!” Willow insisted indignantly.
Christopher, words heavy with suppressed anger and emotion, told of Linnea’s tearful accusations. He explained how she managed to express what seemed like genuine fear of retribution for “telling” on him, and how Chad had struggled, wondering how he’d left such an erroneous idea in her mind. “At first, he thought she was accusing him of threatening to—to—rather than that he already had. I had to stop him from apologizing for doing something he hadn’t done.”
“Oh my.”
“It crushed his spirit. He held himself aloof from all women. Only on the job is he able to be himself.”
Willow could see Chad afraid to help, afraid to confront, and yet he had such a quiet strength that it didn’t make sense either. “How did he ever decide to trust me?”
“You started as part of the job and then became his friend.” He squeezed her hand again. “I know he was attracted to you from the beginning. That was part of his initial resistance.” A pause punctuated the conversation before he added, “And as I said, he loves you.”
A few miles passed as Willow digested Christopher’s words. “Will it be enough?”
“What?”
“You say Chad loves me. I can’t say I’m ‘in love’ with him. Will this friendship be enough? I don’t get butterflies in my stomach when Chad is around. He is moving into my mother’s old bedroom. This isn’t exactly the relationship romance stories are made of.”
As he turned into her drive, Christopher tried to reassure her. “If you both will give this marriage a chance, if you will let him romance you when the time is right, I have no doubt that he will eventually be as emotionally and romantically attached to you as I am to my wife.” He hesitated as if unsure if what he wanted to say should be spoken. Just as she started to reassure him, he added, “But he does love you—is in love with you in the most beautiful way a man can be. He just isn’t ready to admit it to himself.”
“I don’t want to hurt him, Christopher.”
“You won’t,” he reassured. “You won’t. You care about him more than you realize, and you know how to work. Apply that work ethic to your marriage.”
Willow opened the door and stepped into the yard but leaned back into the car. “Do you think Marianne would be willing to talk to me? I have questions—”
“Take her dress shopping—just the two of you. Talk on the way home. Marianne wants to fill in for your mother wherever you’ll let her, but she knows no one can be a substitute. I think she’s a little nervous about overstepping.”
“I’ll call. Maybe next week when we know Chad is back to normal. Thanks.” Willow crawled back inside the car and gave Christopher a hug. “I’ve never had a father. I guess I do now.”
Chapter Seventy-Five
“Hey there,” Chad’s voice murmured.
Willow shifted the phone to her other ear, smiling. It was good to hear him sound so normal. “Did they decide when to let you go home?”
“Mom and Dad are packing a bag for me and then coming to get me. They’ll drop me off at your house on their way home. You sure you want to do this? I could have Mom bring the air mattress and sleep downstairs so you could keep your bed.”
“No, your mom wants to pamper you for a day or two, and I think that’s nice.”
Chad sighed. A week at Willow’s and no work. It sounded like a vacation rather than doctor’s orders. “I can’t go back to work until Saturday. I’m really leaving them shorthanded.”
“Well, you’re no good to them until you’re healthy, so I’m glad. Besides, you work too hard anyway.”
“Says the woman who works more than the rest of us combined!”
Muffled sounds filled Willow’s ears until Chad returned delighted. “They’re back. I’ll see you in a while. Make me some coffee?”
“As you wish,” she teased as she hung up the phone. She hurried to the kitchen to heat the water and dumped the instant coffee crystals in his new mug. “As you wish,” she whispered once more.
Chad rested on his bed while Willow and Marianne worked on the spare bedroom. Two hours earlier, Marianne had jumped up from the floor, caught up in Willow’s vision, and announced she was going to town. “I need magazines. I can’t see this without pictures. You’ll have to show me what you want, and then maybe I’ll understand.”
Now they sat bent over half a dozen magazines, debating the idea of Willow’s old dollhouse as a focal piece in the room versus a bookcase filled with baskets of yarns. “If I go with the yarns, I’ll choose what I want to knit based upon what I think will look pretty in the baskets rather than based upon what I want to wear, but…”
“I think we’ve been in here too long. You can decide with fresh eyes later.”
Willow rose to go grab her ball gown from her room, but Marianne stopped her. “I did get a couple of more magazines—”
“Why didn’t you show me? Maybe—”
“They’re not for decorating,” Marianne warned.
“Well, what are th
ey for then?”
Looking sheepish, Marianne pulled them from her suitcase. “Modern Bride and Brides. When I saw them, I couldn’t resist, but…”
Willow took one of the large magazines and flipped through the pages. “Wow. This is a lot of information. Just to say, ‘I do?’”
Marianne sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Willow thumbed through both magazines. “I would have thought that this would be right up your alley. I mean you love to create; you love beauty. I thought you’d be all caught up in creating invitations and guest favors, and planning dresses.” With her voice laced with disappointment, she added, “I assume you’ll make your dress.”
“I’m under strict orders not to consider it. Chad says I need to buy the biggest, poofiest white dress I can find. He didn’t like my dress.”
“Do you have a dress you wanted?”
Willow dug to the back of her closet and pulled out her white embroidered dress. “I suggested this one, but now that I see the magazines, I can see why Chad wasn’t impressed.”
“Well, we can go looking for dresses soon if you like. I know a few places in Rockland that carry things that might suit your style. I’d hate to see you wear just any old dress because someone labeled it a ‘bridal gown.’ You need to find something you love, but—” Marianne turned away to fiddle with her suitcase.
“But what? Tell me.”
“Well, call me an interfering mother, and I’ll back off, but I think my son deserves a bride who looks like she cared enough about him to dress herself for the occasion.”
At last, an argument that Willow understood. The idea of a wedding slowly grew on her. Invitations, gifts for guests, and some of the other artistic sides of the wedding appealed to her sense of design and creativity. “So what do you think the first thing you do when you plan a wedding?”
This was all Marianne needed. “Come on; let’s go downstairs where we won’t bother Chad.”
At the kitchen table, Marianne pulled out the tiniest of notebooks from her purse. “We’ll fill this up in no time, but—”
Willow reached for a blank journal on the hutch. “How about this?”
“Excellent. Now, I think the first thing you have to do is pick colors. Without colors, you don’t know what to do for flowers, or dresses, or invitations…”
While Marianne thumbed through the books showing her everything from pink and black to red, orange, and even the most hideous shades of green Willow had ever encountered, she focused on flowers. In her mind, she saw tables with spring flowers. “I think I want something that looks good with daisies and lilacs.”
“Ok. That’s great! So either lavender with yellow accents or yellow with lavender—”
“White with yellow. The lilacs can be the only lavender. It’ll be simpler that way and then there’s less to match.” Willow said decisively. “I’ll get my paper catalog—”
“Why?”
“To order paper for the invitations.”
Marianne slowly turned pages in the magazine as Willow hurried upstairs for the “paper catalog.” What she returned with was a huge book of samples. “Every two or three years, Mother ordered one of these. They carry everything.”
“Um, Willow…” Marianne began tentatively, “we could go into the city tomorrow. There must be twenty stores that sell everything in that book plus some and then there are quite a few small scrapbooking stores.”
“Really?”
“I’d be happy to drive us if you thought—”
Willow beamed. “Wow. I wonder if Mother knew that we had such a variety so close. Let’s go!” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling before she added, “That is if you think Chad is fine alone for the day.”
“I’m fine alone for a month. What are you doing?”
Chad’s interruption startled both women, earning him a good-natured scolding. “Your mother offered to take me to Rockland to buy paper for invitations.”
“Mom! I told her she wouldn’t have to think about it until after Luke’s wedding. I wanted her to see everything, so she knows what she’s up against.”
Willow held up the magazines triumphantly. “But your mom found a way to bring it here. Besides, I didn’t get a wedding invitation, so how am I supposed to learn from that?”
“That’s odd; Libby called three weeks ago to confirm your address. Are you sure?”
Nodding, Willow stared out the window. “I’m trying to remember when I checked my mail last. Maybe I didn’t get it all or maybe it’s come since then.”
Chad grabbed her keys, pulling on his coat. “I’ll go look. It’ll be nice to take a walk.”
From the living room window, Marianne watched her son plow through the fresh snow to the mailbox. Willow sat at the table sketching invitation ideas, using the magazines as a guideline. When Marianne walked back to the kitchen, she nearly squealed with delight.
“That is beautiful, Willow! You could have that copied, and—”
“Copied? I don’t think I’d enjoy that. I think I’ll just sketch them, but only if Chad likes it.
On a blank page of her journal, Willow had written:
Daisies
Lilacs
And below them, she had drawn a picture of a sprig of lilacs bunched with a trio of daisies and tied with a ribbon.
“I think I’d attach ribbon inside and actually tie it around the ‘stems.’ It’d be prettier that way. Or maybe I could get a sheer paper to lay over it and soften it instead. Of course, I could fold the top part over and leave the bottom free and…”
Willow was still discussing options with herself when Chad returned. Marianne had gone upstairs to call her husband, reappearing just in time to see Chad lean over the back of Willow’s chair. He pointed at one of Willow’s designs. “I like that idea. We need to call Wes Hartfield too. I want his pictures.”
With an emphatic nod, Willow wrote the name down on a fresh page in the journal. “I’ll get his number from Alexa. I agree. My birthday pictures were the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.”
“Birthday pictures?” Marianne’s voice perked up at the mention of pictures.
Without a word, Willow crossed the living room to the bookcase and returned with her birthday album. “Wes took these for my birthday. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Oh! Look…”
Chad winked. “Yep. Without a doubt, Mom approves.”
“Can you imagine what a photographic genius like this man will do with the beauty Willow will create here?”
Eager to divert the subject, Willow turned to Chad and asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind if we go to Rockland tomorrow? Do you want to come?”
“Nah, I’ll stay here. That way, you girls can go, have fun, and not have to rush back. I’ll take care of the animals,” Chad insisted.
Near dinnertime, Marianne changed clothes, grabbed her purse, and left for Brandt’s Corners, planning to have dinner with Libby. Chad watched her go with an air of relief that Willow found comical. “If I didn’t know you better, Chadwick Tesdall, I’d say that you were happy to see her go.”
“Is it bad to admit that your mother talks too much sometimes?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have encouraged her with the wedding things. She just seemed so excited…”
“Grab your plate, let’s eat on the couch, and watch that movie mom gave you for Christmas. She’s been bugging me about it.”
Chad set up his laptop on the coffee table, plugged it into the socket, and then went to switch on the power. “Hey, did you know the circuit breaker was on?” he asked as he returned to the living room.
It took Willow a few seconds to answer. “I turned it on for the phone charger. I must have forgotten to turn it off again.”
“Mom using a candle when she could have used a light switch… how funny.”
“Well,” Willow hedged. “I’m not sure we have bulbs in most of the light fixtures so it probably wouldn’t have helped anyway.”
“Good point.”
Half way through the movie, Marianne called to say she’d be back in the morning. “We’re watching a movie and by the time it’s over…”
“We’re watching North and South. It’s not bad for one of those period things,” Chad admitted.
Marianne laughed. “There’s no way I’m coming back then. I wouldn’t ruin that for anything. Behave yourself, son.”
Chad stared at the phone confused and then snapped it shut. “Mom’s coming back in the morning. They’re watching a movie too.”
From the strike, to the attack on Margaret, to Bessie Higgins’ death, the story captivated them. However, after three hours, Willow was half-asleep, leaning against Chad and his arm draped around her. Suddenly, in the last minutes of the film, Willow sat up abruptly.
“Make it go back.”
Surprised that Willow wanted to rewind a very intimate kiss, he slid the progress bar back on the screen and hit play again. She watched intently, although with some obvious embarrassment, and when Margaret walked away from John Thornton again, Willow insisted he rewind the scene again.
After the third time, Chad paused the movie and crossed his arms, trying to gauge her reaction. “What is it?”
“Nothing. You can play it.”
“That’s not true. Something made you watch it again.”
“I—well, I—” She shook her head. “Just play it. I’ll explain when the movie’s over.”
She settled once more against Chad’s side, although somewhat less comfortably, and watched the remaining seconds of the movie before the credits rolled. “You were right I guess.”
“Right about what?”
“You once told me that kissing a man isn’t the same as kissing your mother or a friend. Now I see what you mean. I cannot imagine my mother kissing me anything like that—” she pointed at the screen. “And if that is what you think Bill wanted that night, well I’m glad I told him to go away.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Page 7
