He chuckled, pulling her even closer. “And I distinctly remember you telling me you were glad that one ‘try’ probably didn’t ‘work.’ Sounds like someone who changed her mind about children to me.”
“Chad!”
“Do you deny it?”
The wails grew quieter. “Lucas is giving up. I need to go up there.”
“You’re avoiding the subject.”
“I wouldn’t give up the little guys for anything.” She tried to glare at him, but the exhaustion in her features made her look as if she were pleading for him to help. “You know that, right?”
“I know, lass. C’mon. I’ll take Liam.”
“No, you take Lucas. Liam is always getting the bottle because he’s quieter.”
“I could try to keep him quiet,” Chad offered. “Just until you’re done with our strong, silent son.”
Willow laughed. “We misnamed them.”
“Wha—” Understanding hit him. “You’re right. We did. Liam should have been Lucas. We could switch… No one but us would ever know…”
“They’re two and a half months old, Chad. We can’t now!”
“Not that old—”
“March twenty-first to May twenty-eighth is almost ten weeks, my laddie. Sorry to say, two and a half months already.”
“That might explain the weepiness,” he murmured, pulling her to her feet.
“What?”
With an arm draped around her shoulder, he steered her toward the back door. “Remember when Dr. Kline suggested that we should watch for emotional swings?”
“Because ‘if they become severe or debilitating they may indicate PPD.’”
“Right.”
“So you think I have PPD?”
He shook his head. “Not really, but if you’re going to get it, I bet it’ll hit soon.”
She sighed. Halfway up the stairs she asked, “So what is PPD again? It sounds like something that fills a diaper.”
Chad snickered. “I think most women would agree with part of that.”
“Part?”
“Yep,” he added as he opened the boys’ door, “I think they’d say PPD definitely stinks.”
Chad found her asleep, her arms sprawled across the kitchen table. His back protested at the sight of it. He glanced at the papers around her. What had been neat stacks of animal orders, butchering schedules, and copies of their year’s tax forms were now fanned into a semi-homogenous mixture and he suspected the ones beneath her cheek might be christened with drool. “Lass?”
“…mmmget him.” She stirred, her arm sending a few pages dangerously close to the edge of the table.
He shook her shoulder. “Willow, c’mon. Wake up. Go to bed.”
The whimper squeezed his heart. “M’kaay… don’t hear them…”
Hands on his hips, Chad watched her. Could he lift her? Even as the thought came to him, he knew it was futile. He might be able to carry her if he could get her over his shoulder, but he’d never get her over his shoulder without her cooperation.
Before he could decide what to do, her hand swung dangerously close to her glass. Chad dove for it and moved it to the windowsill above the sink. If the papers hadn’t covered that table, if she hadn’t stayed up much too late to do work that she couldn’t get done during the day, he might have been tempted to douse her in it. Another time, he mused as he stared at the scene before him.
A new thought crossed his mind. He opened the icebox, knowing what he’d find, and sighed. No sandwich—nothing. She wasn’t tired; Willow was exhausted. She hadn’t failed to make him a lunch since those awful days when she wasn’t speaking to him. He had to get her to bed.
Chad knelt beside her, pulling her arm around his shoulder. He stood, still trying to wake her. “C’mon. Let’s go. You can do it. Take a step.”
“Oh… is it lunch time already?” The words were hardly intelligible, but he knew she was waking if she could attempt to speak in a complete sentence.
“Yep.”
“Forgot to make you lunch.” She turned at the door as if to go back, but he nudged her back toward the living room.
“I’ll get it. You sleep.”
Her eyes focusing now, she froze. “Oh, no! The papers!”
“I’ll get ‘em.”
“I spent too much time on the envelopes. It was just so relaxing.”
“It’s not wrong to put them in a plain envelope and decorate it later.” The moment he spoke, he realized that the words were the wrong thing to say.
“Chad…” her shoulders slumped.
A sick feeling filled him. She was too exhausted to argue—to stick up for herself. “It’s ok. I wasn’t saying it was wrong—just hate to see you so tired.”
It didn’t take her more than half a minute to relax and fall asleep. Chad jogged to the kitchen, his mind whirling. He scrambled to assemble the papers in some kind of order. He stacked them on the dining room table with a plate on top to keep anything from blowing them away. He grabbed a sheet of paper and scrawled a note, leaving it at her place on the table.
The babies played on the floor. Well, complained about being forced to lay on the floor—but Willow preferred to keep a positive outlook. While they had what Marianne insisted on calling “tummy time,” much to Willow’s disgust, she dusted the library and washed windows.
Chad’s truck barreled down the drive, hours late. He’d said he wouldn’t be home until close to noon and the clock proved his estimate correct. She gathered her supplies, put them away, and met him at the door. The twins wailed their welcome. “Was getting worried.”
“But not worried enough to call,” he joked.
“Right. Close though. I put the phone in my pocket.” Willow smiled.
He followed her through the kitchen, pausing only long enough to stare at the boys. “Tummy time?”
“Chad, do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds? Can’t they just play on a blanket without making it an event with an asinine name?”
“Aw, lass. You make coming home six hours late a joy.” He sank into Mother’s rocker and closed his eyes. “Any chance I can talk you into making me a cup of coffee?”
“Nope. You’re eating your chicken salad sandwich, inhaling your bowl of soup, and going to bed.”
“Ogre.”
“That’s Mrs. Ogre to you.” She bent to kiss him, but he grabbed her, pulling her into his lap. “I can’t make your dinner if you don’t let me go.”
“But I don’t want to let you go.” He winked. “What do you say to that?”
Willow pushed away from him. “Go get changed, lock up your gun so the babies don’t shoot each other with it, and change—or take a shower.” Once he was on his way upstairs, she pulled out the soup from the icebox and poured it from the jar into a small pot. As she started to add a log to the stove, she sighed. “It’s probably too hot in here for this for him. Time for the barn.”
By the time she carried in the pot of soup and plate of sandwiches into the kitchen, Chad lay on the floor by the boys, half asleep. She started to call him, but something on the kitchen table caught her attention. Setting the food aside, she stared at the package of large envelopes and single colored pencil. What could he possibly want with those?
“Chad?”
“Ready?” He pushed himself from the floor, his hand caressing Liam’s head before he stood.
“Yep.” She pointed to the envelopes and pencil. “What’s this?”
“Think about it.”
She did. All through his sandwich, eating two of his turnips, and three cookies when the meal didn’t satisfy, she thought, but nothing made sense. Had he remembered their discussion about her decorating the envelopes and decided to change to white—even though she had told him she didn’t like it? “You do know I said I wanted to stick with the old style, right? I love the idea of decorating on white, but the tops…” She sighed. “I want the tops to match.”
“Yep.” He grinned. “I love this. I’m the creative one
this time. You’re going to love it.”
It still made no sense to her. None. What could it mean? Her fingers stroked the pencil as she stared at the envelopes. A new box perhaps? Maybe he wanted her to keep their records in different colored envelopes to differentiate between hers and Mother’s? It seemed weird, but it would be easier to know at a glance if she was in the right decade—or half a decade even. From the glint of excitement in his eyes, she doubted it was anything quite that simple, and it still didn’t explain the yellow colored pencil.
“I give up.”
Chad took the envelopes and opened them. Her heart sank. What a waste. She knew she’d never be able to do it. She liked the tops matching—being able to move envelopes around as she wished without it looking silly. Then he pulled her pencil case from the corner of the table and removed the sharpener. If he took up coloring, she’d cry, and Willow wasn’t sure why.
As he ran the side golden pencil tip across the top of the white envelope, giving it the exact shade as her manila envelopes, understanding dawned. He gave her something new, something fun, and still within her comfort level. So simple, but the meaning behind the gift was enormous. He supported her.
“Oh, Chad…”
“I’ll take the boys to bed with me. You color.”
“I love you.”
He grinned, kissing her temple. “I know.”
Chapter 14 3
In early July, Chad whistled low as he read Willow’s take on her early weeks of motherhood. To watch her now, she’d always done her work with a baby in one hand, and one nearby. He had almost forgotten the long nights of round the clock nursing, weepiness, and panic at the thought of the future. He flipped the page.
April-
Tax day. I was excited about our little deductions, but Bill says we don’t get to claim them until next April. I think it’s a government plot to reinforce the erroneous idea that babies are not human until they are out of the womb. I have to feed them, pay for their medical care, purchase the things they’ll need for when they arrive, and all in nine long months before they get here, but they don’t exist and aren’t deductible until they’re born. I can, however, give birth, and if the baby dies before the end of the year, I still get to claim him. That just reinforces the appalling attitude our country has regarding the unborn and it angers me.
Bill was visibly touched when I introduced him to little David William. We’ve taken to calling him Liam because Will sounds so old, William is too stuffy, and we already have a Bill. Chad laughs because we didn’t want matchy names like Dirk and Dick and we got Liam and Lucas anyway.
The look on Bill’s face as he held his little namesake was priceless. I saw Chad swallow hard a few times. I think Bill has finally moved from frustrated suitor to a “friend closer than a brother.” I can see his comfort level has changed, and now with the boys, I think we’ll see more of him. That blesses me immensely. I hated that awkwardness after the engagement.
The little chaps are three weeks old and thriving. Apparently, I do not have Mother’s milk supply issues. We finally, to give me relief and give Chad a way to get to feed his sons, purchased a breast pump. Yes, they make milking machines for humans. It amazes me what kinds of things are out there. I was determined to milk myself, but when I saw the difference between what I could express and what the machine managed to get, I decided to go with the machine. I’d used it for a week before Chad came downstairs laughing. He’d just lit the bathroom candle for me and then realized that I could always turn on the light since we have to leave the breaker on for the milking machine. Oh, and he really hates how I call it that. It’s so fun to tease him
My Chad is adorable with his sons. He talks to them, sings to them, and already lectures them on how to treat their mother. When they fuss at feeding, he reminds them to eat what they’re given with thanksgiving and without fussing. I can’t help but think he’s being a little ridiculous, but it is charming nonetheless. When they soil their diapers, he talks about how men don’t make extra work for their wives, sisters, and mothers and as his little men, he expects them to become efficient at doing all of their business in one diaper so that I have less to wash. Hysterical. Absolutely hysterical.
Yesterday was my first day alone. Mom Tesdall stayed for almost two weeks and then Grandmom came for five days. Yesterday I woke up to a house that was empty. I now understand mother’s slightly desperate tone in her early journals. It isn’t easy doing all of this work when you have babies clamoring for food, dry diapers, and cuddles. I woke up, fed all of us, and was ready to go back to bed. However, Petra and Repetra both expected me to get out there and milk them. Chad didn’t get off until eight so the job was mine. I felt strange leaving the babies in their crib while I ran out to do it, but they slept through it just fine.
We weeded the garden yesterday afternoon. I’ve discovered that their little car seats are nice for them out there. They can sit comfortably and watch me and be shaded by the sun. Ok, I doubt they see much. From what I’ve read, their eyes are shortsighted still. It’s a nice thought anyway.
I have become much more efficient in my work. We’ve always taken our time, done the job, moseyed along as we weeded, cleaned, or worked with the animals—well, if we chose—but now I have to get the job done, get it done right, and as quickly as possible in order to be available to the lads when they need me. It makes some jobs less enjoyable, but I’ve learned that it really helps with the ones I tend to drag out due to dislike. Laundry on the line is such a good prayer time for me that I don’t want to rush through it. So, I chose to work very swiftly in putting the clothes up, but I take my time bringing them down and folding each one as I put it in the basket. The little diapers flapping on the line look so charming I’ve taken half a dozen pictures of them already. Mom thinks I’m nuts.
She’s been invaluable. She came for two days after Grandmom left. Her idea was to be here in case I really needed her but she didn’t do anything. Occasionally she’d speak up, but she resisted the urge to jump in and help and just gave input. It was wonderful. I know it must have been terribly difficult not to pick up the babies and hold and cuddle them but she didn’t. She was just there in case I needed her. It made the transition easier.
Mom also asked me about my recovery. She was concerned that it’d take me longer to recuperate after the D&C (I need to look up what that means), but I think it actually helped. When I came home from the hospital, I was able to quit using those huge paper pads and go back to my nice comfortable flannel ones. Now, the only time I have any spotting is if I overdo something.
I’m still wearing my early maternity clothes. To be honest, I’m a little disgusted with them. How can I still look so pregnant! Isn’t it a bit ridiculous? I’m already down five more pounds, but that still leaves me at twenty pounds overweight. I feel huge. Chad says I’ve discovered American female vanity, but honestly, I mostly object to the waste of perfectly good clothing in my closet and how difficult it is to wash dishes in my deep sink with all that blob around my gut.
I hear Lucas. Right on schedule. Time to eat and again, I didn’t take my nap as I should have. Maybe if Chad gets home before he’s done, I’ll ask papa to feed Liam for me.
She’d written the entry over two months ago. The lads were already four months old. Her birthday was only a week away. He wanted to do something special for her twenty-fifth birthday but had no idea what to do. The little tykes were too small to be left overnight with his mother… or were they? Perhaps… He shook his head. Forget Willow, he wasn’t ready to leave them.
Willow’s voice called him to dinner. “Coming!” He stepped inside the boy’s room, checked to see that they were still sleeping, and hurried downstairs. Willow would have a list a mile long for them to try to get through in the next two days.
Omelets and muffins sat on the table but the kitchen was still cool from the night’s refreshing rain. “Cook in the summer kitchen?”
“The little tykes have a harder time cooling off than we
do. I thought it’d be nice to keep the house cool for them today.”
“I was thinking of your birthday…”
“Me too.”
“Really?” Chad had never seen her show much of an interest in the day. From his reading of Kari’s journals, he’d decided it had started at her death because Kari wrote of birthdays as delightful holidays and special surprises.
“I wondered if maybe your mom—”
“Not leave the lads!” He couldn’t believe it. He’d been sure that she’d object even if he wanted to do it.
“Not really leave them. I thought maybe we could get a nice room in the city. Leave them with Grandmom and Granddad for a few hours, go get them, take them to your mother’s, stay for a while, leave them while we go get dinner and then maybe she or Cheri could bring them to us when it got time for their last feeding.” She shook her head. “No, that’s too late to ask—”
“She’d love it. Mom’s been dying to have them again.”
“We can go?”
“I’ll see if Caleb thinks Ben is ready to be responsible for all of the animals. If not, we’ll have to see if Charlie might be willing to come out.”
“Ryder can come on a weekend. He doesn’t care much for the animals, but he’ll do it in a pinch.” She polished off her eggs and popped the last bite of muffin in her mouth. With eyes that reminded him of the Willow he’d discovered after those awful months of her deepest grief—a gleam of mischief glistening in one corner—she jumped up with a new spring in her step. “Oh this’ll be so much fun! Where should we go? It’s silly to take the boys with us, isn’t it? I mean, what on earth would they get out of a trip to the zoo at their age? Or a museum… they wouldn’t get anything out of that. Our dinner…” She stood at the sink thinking as she mused aloud.
“They’ll just sleep through it. Let the grandmas have a turn with them and when they get two or three, we’ll take them.”
She spun in place, a huge grin on her face. “We’re really going to the zoo! I can show you the pandas. They’re so huge! And the penguins are so funny…”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 5 Page 2
