Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3

by Chautona Havig

  “Chad would have found you by then and been upset.”

  “He probably has my note by now and is fuming. He can’t leave because there’s no room in his truck for all of the children.”

  “This must be some gift you have for him.”

  Willow nodded, her thoughts swirling into a stew of frustration. “I’m giving him the gift of the life he wants on our farm. We’ll never be free until Solari knows he can’t threaten us.”

  “Mr. Solari?”

  Steve stretched comfortably next to his wife, pulling the covers around her carefully. The thermostat needed adjustment. “Hmm?”

  “There’s a girl down here. Says her name is Willow. She insists on speaking to you.”

  “Put her on.”

  “That’s just it. She won’t talk on the phone, and when I threatened to call the police, she gave me a weird look and said you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Lynne stirred as Steve slipped from beneath the covers. “What is it?” she murmured sleepily.

  “Just some stuff at work. I’ll be back soon. Why don’t you get ready, and we’ll go shopping today. You’ve been complaining about that car for months.”

  Lynne waited for his car to disappear down the drive before she grabbed the phone. When the man on the other end of the line picked up, she said two words. “Follow him.”

  Steve, unaware of the surveillance surrounding him, strode into his building with a casual air. “Good morning, Willow. Would you like to step into my office?”

  Her curt nod did little to reassure him. The cop must have been more astute than he had expected. He would have to remove Chad from the picture. Willow would be hurt, but the sacrifice would eventually be worth it. He didn’t want to kill his only grandchild if he could avoid it.

  Inside the office, Steve offered Willow a drink but she refused. Ignoring her blatant disgust as he poured a glass of gin, Steve spoke about the previous night’s dinner, the weather, and his concern for Lynne’s emotional state. “She’s starting to resent me.”

  “I can see why.”

  Willow refused to sit. She stood at his desk, apparently waiting for him to stop talking and sit down. “Will you have a seat?”

  “No thank you.”

  Sighing, Steven Solari sank into his chair, propped his feet on his desk, leaned back, and met his granddaughter’s gaze. “Then what can I do for you.”

  “You can agree to leave us alone. Chad’s worried about me, and he shouldn’t have to fear for my safety from my grandfather.”

  “Oh now wait a minute. I—”

  “I’m not done. I don’t trust you. You know exactly why I don’t trust you. You can pretend all you like, but you are not the innocent you like to portray yourself as, and I refuse to play the game anymore. I was willing to coexist in this world, you in your realm, me in mine. But I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Really!” Steve tried to pretend he’d misunderstood—that he thought she would give a friendship a chance—but Willow stopped him.

  “I know I’m naïve—unsophisticated—that I tend to be a little too trusting of people, but I know you. I know what you’re capable of, and I know what you’ve done. Chad keeps trying to protect me from the truth of everything, but he underestimates me as much as you underestimate your wife.”

  “My wife? What could you possibly think you know about my wife?”

  “I know,” she began coldly, “That your wife likes for people to see her as innocuous and well-meaning. She’s much more intelligent and observant than people think.” Before he could interrupt, she leaned against his desk, her hands gripping the edge for self-control. “Mr. Solari—”

  “Steve,” he corrected.

  “Mr. Solari,” she repeated in the coldest tones imaginable. “I have my mother’s journals. You and I both know you don’t want those made public. We both know that if you think I have any intention of releasing any information from them, that Chad’s and/or my life is worthless. So I am here to warn you. They’re no longer in my possession. They are in the safest hands possible. If anything happens to me, my mother’s family, or anyone else I care about for that matter, they will be released without hesitation.”

  “You could never use those in a court of law to prove anything.”

  “They name you directly. They name your son. And, I don’t need them in a courtroom to do the damage we both know you don’t want.”

  Steve forced his hands to relax in his lap. His smile wan, he nodded agreeably. “I underestimated you.”

  “Don’t do it again. I have no desire for my name splattered through the mud of the media, but I’ll do it if it prevents you from hurting those I care about.”

  With those words hanging heavily in the air, Willow turned and strode to the door. With her hand on the knob, she spoke once more. “Mr. Solari?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do not underestimate me again. You did it once. Don’t do it again.”

  As the door closed behind her, Steve exhaled in relief. “Wow.”

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  “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 and how Chad was caught because he almost forgot to put on the roast. Willow sent all three 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. She jerked her hand back, rushing for the sink and 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. By Sunday afternoon, Willow almost ached for the children to be gone. 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 prob
lems. Her hand still hurt terribly anytime she tried to use it, making her impatient and, at least 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, 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 names 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—”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Ellie that Luke described. He says she’s usually quiet and in the background.”

  “Well, she is ever-present, always asking, talking, wondering, wanting to be with me and do whatever I’m doing. 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.

  Chad winked.

  Painful, never-ending, discouraging silence filled the house. The ticking of the clock drove Willow nearly insane with loneliness. Church was over, the children were gone, and suddenly the privacy and peace she craved felt empty. She glanced listlessly at the clock. Chad would be there soon for dinner. Maybe she could bake a pound cake. He’d like that.

  The house smelled heavenly as Chad entered through the back door. A cake drizzled with almond glaze and a jar of cherries sat on the counter, a roasted chicken warmed in the Dutch oven, and green beans simmered on the stove. He loved coming “home” like this. However, Willow simply seemed to have vanished. He checked the barn, her room, and then eventually the entire house but didn’t find her. Just as concern began to well in his chest and he pulled out his cell phone, Willow burst in the door and practically threw herself into his arms.

  “I missed you.”

  “I can see that. Have you been enjoying the peace and quiet?”

  “I’m going crazy. The house is too quiet; I can’t do anything because my hand hurts if I squeeze anything—”

  He eyed the cake suspiciously. “You don’t have an electric mixer. How did—”

  Unconsciously, Willow stuffed her hand into her jacket pocket. Chad, with infinite tenderness, pulled it out, unwrapped the bandage, and stared at the fresh blood on the gauze. “How could you do that?”

  “I wanted you to have cake with dinner.”

  “I’m supposed to eat that thing knowing what you did to yourself to make it?” he snapped.

  Willow snatched her hand back from his fingers. “Forgive me. I wanted to do something to bless you for once.” Without another word, she shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the peg by the back door. She glanced around the room with a look of irritation on her face. “I’ve always hated the color in here. It’s just ugly.”

  His jaw, already sitting on the floor full of his feet, slackened further. He glanced around the room. It was spotless. How had she managed to do the dishes? The floors had been mopped. The windows sparkled. He wandered around the downstairs for a moment and realized that her hand would take twice as long to heal unless she was forced to rest it.

  He went out to milk Ditto and the sight of her milked udder made up his mind. He flipped open his phone and called his mother. A vacation. It was time for her to have an estrogen fest.

  Upstairs, Willow sat absorbing the beauty in the spare room. The bed looked empty without Ellie’s stuffed fox, and the closet still stood open and bare with her little dresses gone. Chad knelt beside the chair and smiled up at her. “Are you going to help me eat that cake?”

  “I was nasty about that.”

  “Yes. I guess you could say you were. However, I think maybe I understand now. You don’t have the help you need while your hand is healing, and as much as you needed some space, you liked having the little people around.”

  Her sigh would have hurt him had he not already made plans. He hated seeing her so alone, and as much time as he spent there, he still had to work. For a fleeting moment, he realized that he didn’t. He’d never have to work again if he didn’t want to. As quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it. The idea of living off Steven Solari’s ill-gotten money revolted him. He was just grateful that Willow didn’t seem to realize the source of Steve’s income.

  “I guess.”

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  Her eyes brightened immediately. “You have the week off work.”

  “Do you want a honeymoon?” he teased.

  “Of cour—” she paused. “What do you mean?”

  “I have the week after the wedding off. Even if I could get this week off, that’d probably mean one day max before I had to go to go back after the wedding.”

  “Ok, so you don’t have the week off. What’s the next best thing? Two days in a row? We could go hiking up—”

  “How about you at my mom’s for a week. You guys can pick out cakes and dresses for the girls, shop until you drop, and rest that hand.”

  “Can Caleb or Ryder handle the animals and the plants?”

  “I’ll stay out here and take care of the animals, but Ryder will have to come after school or you�
��d have to show me what to do.”

  He took her hand and led her downstairs. “You talk; I’ll eat. I’m starving, and I only have—” Chad checked his watch, “Twenty-three minutes before I have to be back on beat.”

  Willow accepted a plate of food, her mind elsewhere. “So what would your mom expect from me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I just wondered if I’d have time to do a few things by myself.”

  “You,” he assured her with a fork full of chicken ready for consumption, “can do anything you like. Mom said she’d be at your ‘disposal.’”

  “When can we go?”

  “So, cake. What about visiting a few bakeries?”

  “Why don’t we make the cake? Why—”

  “Because you’re going to be tired if you do that. Relax and enjoy the day.”

  Willow thought about it for a moment. She remembered how busy she’d be with chickens, shearing, and planting around the time of the wedding and smiled. Chad would love it too. “Ok, how about I meet you on Bridal Aisle at one o’clock? I have a few things I want to do first.”

  Marianne watched concerned, as Willow walked down the street and rounded the corner. They’d arrived late, and Chad had gone straight to bed, leaving at four o’clock to get back in time for his early shift. Now Willow was off to Rockland, alone, when that awful family was still a threat, assuming Chad’s concerns weren’t overblown.

  Willow, unaware of her future mother-in-law’s uncertainties, rode the bus to the Rockland hub, took the subway to the financial district, and entered Bill’s building. She rode the elevator to the fourth floor and entered the office, surprising Marci. “Is he in?”

  “He is—um,” Mari hesitated as she glanced at Willow’s left hand. “Congratulations.”

  Confused, Willow cocked her head puppy-like and smiled. “For…”

  “We thought when we got your credit card statement that you’d purchased a wedding dress and your hand—”