“Get the—”
Willow stood, the chair scraping against the floor drowning out Lynne’s foul stream of words—almost. “I’m leaving. I’m praying for you, and if you go on trial, I’ll sit in the courtroom as much as I can and pray for you then too—assuming Chad approves.”
“Get out of my sight. I can’t believe you are blaming me for this. I am a victim here—just like you. We’re victims!” Immediately, she realized her mistake. Sending Willow away wouldn’t garner sympathy. “Oh, I’m so sorry! It’s this awful—”
Willow left the Bible on the table, and followed the guard from the room. Lynne shoved the box onto the floor and waited impatiently for another guard to take her back to her cell. Her granddaughter thought religion would solve everything. Great. Now what?
Late that night, Lynne fought the dream as it slowly stole over her, smothering her with its familiarity and intensity. Women in pretty dresses and men wearing suits and ties sang songs about heaven. An organ played. A man talked about love and forgiveness. Then he saw her—the one who carried the money baskets. He pointed to the door menacingly. Her stringy hair, rumpled clothing, and probably the fact that her mother was a prostitute assured her a ticket out of the church, but every week she crept back. It was worth the humiliation to hear the music, listen to the beautiful words. No one wanted her there, but she wanted what those people had. She wanted that peace on their faces. She needed that peace.
Lynne awoke drenched in sweat. That was the appeal of Willow. She was like those people from that church. She had that peace, that innocence. Confidence and strength from within oozed from her pores.
All through the years, Lynne had worked to prove herself just as good as those goody goodys at that little church, but now they seemed wasted. She wasn’t as good as they were, and deep down, she’d always known it. For a moment, she longed for what she couldn’t imagine and didn’t have.
Her heart hardened. It was all an emotional game to make you look superior. Willow might truly be better than she was, but those self-righteous people back in Hardvale were no better than she was. They should have wanted to help the little girl. They could have shown her how to iron a dress and wash her hair. They could have been kind.
“Hypocrites,” she muttered and then rolled over on the thin mattress and tried to drown out her surroundings once more.
David Finley glanced up at his wife again. Why was she taking so long to load the dishwasher? Something must be on her mind. Even as he thought it, he knew it would be related to their granddaughter—the older one. Just as he thought he’d have to ask to get the ordeal over with, she spoke.
“We got an invitation to Willow’s wedding.”
“So there’s a date.”
“May sixteenth at her farm. She sent a personal note in the invitation, also inviting us to dinner at her house in two weeks.”
“Will the cop be there?” David Finley wasn’t ready to think about any of it. Carol had just stopped talking about a visit in the past couple of weeks. This would start it all up again. Long engagements were underrated. She should have waited for fall—three years from now.
“It sounds like it. I’ll call and R.S.V.P and accept at the same time.”
Before he could stop himself, he said, “Are you sure we should go?”
“She has no family, David. I can’t believe how heartless you are when it comes to her.”
Defensive, he said the first illogical thing that came to mind.“Well, it’s not like it’s our fault—”
“It’s not hers either!” Disgusted with him, and he couldn’t blame her, Carol stormed from the room and into the exercise room. She’d taken to pounding the treadmill to avoid blood pressure climbs anytime stress crept up on her.
David sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and stood. She’d walk herself into nothingness if he didn’t stop her. Just inside the doorway, he paused. “I’m sorry. It’s hard for me.”
“Kari hurt you. I know. She hurt me too, David, but Willow didn’t. We can’t let her suffer for Kari’s decisions.”
She turned off the treadmill and rolled back on it until it stopped before turning to face him. They stood, only two feet apart, each refusing to meet the eyes of the other. As irrational as his feelings were, David failed to control them, and now his wife would hurt again—because of him. Because of Kari. Why hadn’t Kari just talked to them? Why?
Questions wouldn’t change the past. Carol stared at him, arms crossed against her chest in a mirror image of his. She needed this as much as he needed to stay far from it.
“Call. I’ll come.”
“She invited Kyle, Sheryl and the kids too.”
“Call them first then, I guess.” David smiled weakly.
“Thank you.”
“When could I ever tell you no?”
Carol stepped into his arms. “There’ve been a few times…”
Like when they couldn’t afford to keep searching for their daughter who lived an hour away. The thought kicked him in the gut. David’s eyes rose, ready to apologize, again, for giving up, but the sight of his wife’s eyes stopped him.
“You are so beautiful.”
Carol buried her head in his chest. “Oh, David, really.”
“But you are,” he insisted, tilting her head to gaze at her. “I knew it the day I first saw you in French class. I knew it on prom night when you wore that cloud of blue that matched your eyes so perfectly. I knew it when you came down the aisle at our wedding and when you first held Kari in your arms.”
“I almost believed you for a minute,” she whispered.
“I think that’s when you were most beautiful.”
“Hogwash. I’ve seen pictures.”
“Pictures don’t capture what I saw, Carol. Pictures capture your hair or if your skin tone is even.” David kissed her, cupping her face in his hand as he traced the tear that slid down her cheek. “Pictures don’t capture inner beauty, and without that, outer beauty is just an illusion. You have both.”
Chad’s truck bounced into the yard after work one afternoon. Through the greenhouse window, he saw her glance up, but she continued with her work after an excited wave. He strolled to the entrance of the greenhouse and leaned against the doorframe, watching. From his viewpoint, Willow had never looked better. The tired expression was gone from her face, her eyes no longer looked lost and empty without her mother, and now that she was back to work, a healthy glow surrounded her.
“Your radishes are overflowing.”
“Yes. I was going to ask you to take some to Jill before you went home tonight.”
“Will they keep in the fridge?”
She shrugged as she cut another bunch of spinach. “Sure.”
“I was planning on staying late with a movie, so I’ll take them over in the morning.”
“You brought a movie?” Her eyes lit up.
“I thought it was time for another one. Different genre.”
“Like what?”
She led him from the greenhouse, carrying a huge basket of vegetables. Chad took it from her outside the door shaking his head at her protest. “I know you can do it yourself, but sometimes I’ve got to at least pretend to be a gentleman.”
“Oh you’re a gentleman alright. No one could argue with that.”
“Do I hear a complaint in there somewhere?” Chad teased, knowing exactly what she meant. April had already arrived, and still he hadn’t kissed her. He had decided to hold out for after the rehearsal dinner just to keep things interesting.
“You aren’t as subtle as you think you are,” she retorted.
At the kitchen sink, Chad sat the basket on the counter and smiled at her. “My mom is right you know.”
“About what?” Her absent response amused him. When she was working, sometimes she entered another world all together.
Knowing it would unsettle her enough to make her listen, Chad wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Mom says we’re going to be pa
thetic saps like her and Pop.”
“I wouldn’t know, Willow commented dryly. “Sap I’ve seen is a little different than sap I’ve tapped.”
“Oh good one!” He stifled a guffaw and grabbed a tall stool from the pantry. “Do I scrub or just rinse?”
“Neither. Take the towels, wet them, wring them out, and then just layer between rows of carrots. It’ll keep them crisp.”
“Radishes too?”
“Eventually.”
They worked at packing several dozen carrots, almost as many radishes, as well as lettuce, and spinach bunches while they discussed her wedding plans. Chad was surprised to hear she’d rented a dance floor from a place suggested by Alexa Hartfield, hired a caterer suggested by the Confectionary, and buggy rides were on the horizon. “I didn’t know you’d made so many plans. You wanted things simple, but this doesn’t sound simple to me.”
“You wanted a celebration. I’m creating one. I get my way on when; you get your way on what, and voilà. We’re both happy.”
You amaze me sometimes. Forget sometimes, most of the time.” He watched as she fumbled a bunch of spinach. Man, he loved unsettling her.
“Is that good or bad?” The tone in her voice sounded overtly coy.
“Little miss flirtatious, aren’t we?”
“I’m engaged; I have that right.” She handed him a small radish. “Taste?”
One bite and he nodded. “Delicious.” He chewed it and then grinned. “But I’d rather have ice cream, cherry almond bars, cobbler…”
“Junk food.”
“Your definition of junk food is far from that of most people’s. Everything you eat is made from scratch, with simple wholesome ingredients. It’s almost health food to eat your cobbler.” The disgusted look on her face made him glad she’d never heard of tofu.
“Maybe to someone who eats food out of a box with unpronounceable ingredients, but it’s still a lot of sugar and white flour.”
“My friends.”
She rinsed another carrot and shoved it into his hands. “Eat a carrot.”
“Six weeks.” The words dropped into the air and hung there expectantly.
“You can count,” Willow acknowledged, confused.
“It seems like time has flown by and is crawling toward us at the same time.”
“Do you wish we’d chosen fall?”
“No way. I wish we hadn’t waited so long.” Chad’s voice seemed frustrated, but Willow wasn’t sure if it was with her or with waiting.
“Am I doing something irritating again, or are you tired of half-living in two homes?”
Chad sat in the opposite corner of the couch, hands behind his head, eyes closed, and utterly relaxed. Without moving, he answered lazily, “You’re not irritating, lass.”
She always marveled at how he could lay for hours, hands behind his head, and eyes closed. He rarely spoke, and when he did, even his voice sounded too relaxed to bother speaking too quickly. Willow set aside her rug. It was down to the binding, and she was eager to finish, but somehow the sight of him lying there relaxed and comfortable made her long for childhood days. Willow had once curled next to her mother as she lay on the chaise, arms behind her head just like Chad’s were now, and read from an open book.
Willow’s head on his chest sent Chad’s eyes flying open and one arm curled around her shoulder. “You ok?”
“Mm hmm.”
Time passed, but neither of them noticed the clock ticking the seconds by as lazily as they felt. Willow almost felt guilty at the pleasure she enjoyed as the result of a wasted afternoon. Her rug lay unbound on the floor at the base of the couch, dinner remained in the icebox, never started, and even the laundry that hung outside on the line was left abandoned as they dozed curled up in the corner of the couch.
“I’m hungry,” Chad finally admitted.
“Me too.”
“I don’t want to get up.”
She stirred, starting to sit up, but he pulled her comfortably against him again. “Then don’t.”
“Well, I have to find something to eat. We skipped lunch, and I won’t make it until breakfast.”
“But I don’t want to get up. This is much too comfortable,” Chad protested illogically.
He was right. Somehow, it felt like a lazy summer afternoon stretching out ahead of them—even as darkness slowly descended upon them. “You ordered food delivered once, didn’t you?”
“I did some major bribing too. I wonder—”
Chad dug out his cell phone and flipped it open. With a wink at Willow, he dialed Ryder’s cell phone and waited impatiently for the boy to answer. “Hey, Ry, I need a favor.”
As Chad stuffed his phone back in his pocket, Willow adjusted herself more comfortably at his side, grabbed a throw pillow for his head, and promptly fell asleep again. It seemed to Chad that all the stress, angst, and worry of the past months had finally oozed their way out of the farmhouse on one very lazy April afternoon. He didn’t move when heard Ryder’s car arrive with dinner or when the boy brought bags of burgers and fries in and set them on the coffee table.
“Rough day?” Ryder whispered, smiling at the picture. Willow deserved someone to give her all the warm fuzzy stuff girls liked.
“Nope. It was a dozy.”
“Do you mean doozy?”
“No. Dozy. We both dozed.” Chad pulled his wallet from his back pocket and passed it to Ryder. “Get your money out of there and enough to cover caring for the animals. Oh, and would you bring some plates and napkins?”
Willow stirred, burying her head into Chad’s shoulder with a sigh. The men grinned at each other before Ryder hurried to gather the requested items. Chad waited to hear the barn doors open and then squeezed her shoulder gently. “Hey, lass. Wake up. Dinner’s here.”
“Dinner?” Willow hardly acknowledged him.
He shook her again, tickling her. “Come on, wake up. It’ll get cold.”
Willow sat up, stood unsteadily, and dragged herself to the stove. She piled extra wood on the coals and teased it into a roaring fire before slamming the door shut and hurrying back to his side. Confused Chad pulled her closer. “Are you cold?”
“No, you said you were.”
“No I didn’t,” he protested, laughing. “I said the food would get cold.”
“Is that what smells so good?”
“Mmm hmmm.”
She sat upright blinking and rubbing her eyes. “Let’s eat.”
“That was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. It was so good!”
“I can’t believe you’ve never had a burger. How have we made it almost a year without—”
Shrugging, Willow grabbed the last fry and popped it in her mouth. “I can’t believe I’ve known you for almost a year. It’s hard to remember that a year ago it was just Mother, Othello, and me.”
“Speaking of Othello,” Chad interrupted, “Uncle Zeke has more pups. Want to go pick one?”
“I want a border collie this time. Black and white. Where do I buy one?” Willow had been thinking about new dogs for weeks.
“I’ll get you one for a wedding present.”
“Really?” The idea sparked half a dozen possibilities at the mere mention of it. “Does that mean I get to give you something?” Suddenly, Willow knew exactly what gift to give him.
“That depends. Will I like it?”
Uncertainty hit her full force. What if her idea wasn’t something he wanted after all? “I think—” She chewed her lip uncertainly. “Well, I hope—”
“Silly lass, of course I will. If you give it, I’ll love it. It’s that simple.”
“I hope so,” she whispered. Trying to change the subject, she added, “I thought you had a movie for me.”
“I’m going to start you on action movies. I got a mild one to start, and if you like it, we’ll move up to something more complicated.”
“What’s it called?”
“National Treasure.”
Willow shrugged, picked up the dinner tra
sh, tossed it in the woodstove, and carried dirty dishes into the sink. Chad heard her open the pantry door and smiled. She’d turned on the electricity again. They were going to have such an interesting life. He couldn’t wait to start it.
The movie opened, and immediately following the opening with young Benjamin Gates and his grandfather, the movie hurled them into the arctic as Nicholas Cage led explorers to the wreckage of an historic ship. She fell in love with the pipe, jumped at explosion, and then became absorbed into the movie at full speed. From the first meeting with Abigail Chase to the entrance of the crypt, she jumped at tense scenes, laughed at Riley’s comical comments, and then grabbed Chad, terrified as the ropes snapped in the caverns beneath the church.
“Tell me they don’t die.”
“They don’t die.” He’d expected a squeal with the skeleton in the ship and had been disappointed. When they opened the crypt, he was sure he’d at least get an “ew,” but she hardly blinked. However, as the Declaration of Independence rolled toward the edge of oblivion, she buried her head into his chest and threatened Benjamin Gates’ life if he dared to let it fall.
The irony of the kiss in the middle of a chase scene and the subsequent joke failed to amuse her, but she howled at Riley’s pronouncement on the beauty of stairs. He waited anxiously for her impression. Somehow, he didn’t expect her to be ready for the sequel anytime soon.
“So, do they make movies like this that are a bit more believable?” At the look on his face, she hastened to explain. “This was fun and an interesting plot, but it’s riddled with holes and inaccuracies. Do they do similar things that aren’t so obviously impossible?”
“I’ll get the Bournes.”
“Who is born?” she asked curiously.
Laughing, Chad turned off the movie and closed the laptop. He lit the oil lamp, turned off the breaker, brought her a cup of tea, and then returned to the couch with a cup of coffee for him. “I’ll bring it tomorrow. I’ve got to see your face on this one.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Page 24
