Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 5

by Chautona Havig

  “You’re absolutely right it’s wrong. Furthermore, I cannot believe that the law—”

  “The law is not at fault, lass. We have to have a way to protect girls from men who would prey on them. I know that it seems unjust, but there has to be a cut-off. In some states, consent is over eighteen, others it’s under. I agree that if a parent is legally responsible for their child’s actions, then the child shouldn’t be allowed to give that consent.”

  “Chad?” Willow’s voice had adjusted to a tone he knew all too well.

  “I know, lass. Our boys won’t be taught that way. I wasn’t, and I went to the same schools that some of the worst offenders went to. Rich boys who thought that it was a game to rack up notches on their belts like gunmen in the old west.”

  “You won’t make me send our boys to be taught like that?”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t let you send our boys into that school. My reputation was nearly destroyed because a girl was taught, in our classrooms, how to accuse a guy of misusing her.” He thought for a moment. “Then again, I doubt it’ll be the same by the time the boys are old enough for those classes. Surely, by then there’ll be a new theory. Monasticism or something will be in vogue or something.”

  They talked for some time, Willow questioning everything and Chad explaining the reasoning behind decisions he didn’t even agree with at times. Their lives were changing, sometimes at breakneck speed, and nothing they did could stop it. Just watching the changes in people around them affected every aspect of their own lives.

  As he crawled into bed the next morning, Chad saw Willow’s journal open and the day’s thoughts on it.

  Thanksgiving—

  Each time I learn more about the world around me, the more I see the wisdom in Mother’s choices. She sheltered me from the ugliness, the foolishness, and the sinfulness of this world. I’m always sorry to see a little of that person I was disappear with more knowledge of how things truly are.

  Then again, if I had known where it would lead, would I have made a different decision the day that Mother died? I could have buried her myself. I wonder that it never occurred to me. I could have kept everything exactly the same as it’d always been, and I’d be ignorant of the things that trouble me like Ryder’s relationship and the propensity for people to politicize everything.

  I would not have met Chad that day. Granddad wouldn’t have become a part of my life, and we wouldn’t have the boys. Yes, much of the things that make me so uncomfortable wouldn’t affect me, but isn’t every good thing worth the sacrifices you have to make to have it? I wouldn’t be bombarded with immorality in the lives of people I love, but I would also have no one to love. The Lord and I would have been fine here, but would I have truly lived Mother’s dream if I was not living “deliberately?” How can it be a deliberate life if it’s one spent hiding from life around me. Would I not have found myself, at the end of my life, discovering that I had not lived?

  Chad smiled at the words and replaced the journal. He loved those glimpses into Willow’s heart—to see the side of her that she so seldom voiced. Each word of her journal reminded him of the choices she’d made, many to please him, and how with all the good, she’d accepted things that while not necessarily bad, weren’t always the good that made her comfortable.

  Lord, help me do my part to ensure that this different life of ours does make all the difference so that at the end of her life, she may know she lived, deliberately, every moment of it.

  Chapter 152

  One advantage to greenhouse growth in winter was the absence of pests. Cutworms, aphids, spiders, and all the other usual pests were dead for the winter. In their place, however was the constant battle with adequate light and the unpredictability of heirloom seeds. All of Ryder’s hard work had produced very healthy looking tomato plants with fruit that refused to ripen. He’d suggested removing the tomatoes to ripen off the vine, but the one Willow tried was pale and anemic—not to mention without flavor.

  As she and Ryder debated fertilizer, location in the greenhouse, and other variables, Willow prayed fervently for words for wisdom in counseling him with his relationship. Just as she opened her mouth to ask how serious he considered his relationship, she looked at the full spectrum lighting system and flipped the switch. “The bulbs are dead.”

  Ryder nodded as he opened the greenhouse door. “I guess that’s the disadvantage to the automatic timer. We didn’t see that they didn’t come on. I’ll go get more.”

  When he returned, Willow was ready. “We enjoyed having you and Chelsea yesterday. She’s a very passionate girl, isn’t she?”

  “She’s really into the environment, if that’s what you mean. She doesn’t get how arrogant it sounds to say, “We have to save the planet.”

  “Save the planet? From what?”

  “Us. The stupid things mankind does that is destructive to it. I mean, I’m all for responsibility, but mankind can’t singlehandedly reverse the second law of thermodynamics.”

  Willow nodded thoughtfully. “As in all matter tends toward decay? That’s the amazing thing about birth. It is a constant proof that the ‘law’ is a generality rather than an absolute.”

  “I just don’t see how throwing away all the plastic in your cupboards is going to solve anything.”

  His thought process made no sense to Willow, but she decided to work with it. “So, is she planning to attend Rockland University?”

  “Yeah, unless she gets that scholarship to Northwestern. I don’t think she’ll turn it down to stay here.”

  “What are the chances of that?”

  As he screwed in each bulb into the lamps, Ryder opened up with uncharacteristic candor. “Thankfully, high. She’s great, but she’s a bit needy. I don’t have time to focus on my classes, do my work out here, and give her all the time she wants.” Ryder had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m not saying I’m trying to dump her or anything, but that scholarship would put us on a summers only kind of playing field. Easier to manage if you know what I mean.”

  “I think it’s probably wise. If she’s the right girl today, she’ll still be the right one in a few years when you have your education finished and a start in whatever field you choose.”

  Jonathan Landry found them working a while later and asked if he could help. While he worked compost and manure into one of the raised beds, he asked intelligent questions about how they managed to grow vegetables when it was so cold outside. Willow harvested carrots as she listened to Ryder patiently answer each of the boy’s questions. He had a gift, her helper, for teaching while working. He made an art of doing it without dumbing down the subject matter, and she knew then that he’d become a teacher rather than a research scientist. Somehow, she also knew his parents wouldn’t approve. There was no money in teaching from what Chad had told her.

  As Chad turned into the drive, he smiled. How had she done it all by herself? Evergreen swags, twisted with twinkle lights and sporting bows at each fence post, lined the long winding drive to the house. Candles glowed in the window and lanterns hung from the porch, showing off the greenery there. No Christmas tree on the porch, though. The incongruity of it struck him as funny. She’d hooked up the driveway to the barn to have twinkle lights but hadn’t attached them to the house. It was so like her.

  As he opened his door, he grabbed the container of ice cream and hot fudge sauce. Maybe a treat after such a long day. She’d called him twice, wailing that there was no hope for her. She was a failure as a mother. Liam had a knot on his head from a tumble down three stairs after she’d forgotten to put the gate up, and she had managed to step on Lucas’ little hand at one point. The chief had gotten a kick out of it. Truth told, Chad found it amusing as well, but he was determined not to let her know it—yet.

  The front porch was missing its tree. Good, she’d left something for him to do with her. How had he gone from a bachelor who didn’t own a single decoration to a man happy to spend a few hours decorating with his wife and sons? The que
stion dissolved as he opened the front door and found his wife blubbering on the floor, surrounded by half-boxed Christmas décor.

  “Um, lass?”

  “We can’t do almost anything!”

  The decision hovered before him—ice cream now or console the wife? On the off-chance that the ice cream at least soothed whatever woe that had overwhelmed her, Chad held up the plastic bag—one she’d despise for its uselessness—and smiled. “Will ice cream make it any better? I brought peppermint and fudge sauce.”

  The look in her eyes sent waves of panic over him. Would she cry? Tears seemed too much to manage after the day he’d endured. There it was—a smile. “Yeah. That sounds just about perfect.”

  She followed him to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and setting it in the pan of boiling water on the stove. She would think of making the fudge sauce hot. Should he ask what had upset her or wait? Waiting never hurt anyone.

  Chad carried heaping bowls of ice cream to the table and smiled as she jumped up to grab the hot fudge. He took it from her, set it on the table, and pulled her into a hug. “Missed you today.”

  “As opposed to yesterday when you were glad to be rid of me?”

  “Nah,” he murmured, kissing her and holding her just a little closer. “Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow.”

  “Tease.”

  Something in her—maybe it was just the crazy lamplight that always made her eyes sparkle and her hair almost glow—choked him. “God… man, He is good to me.”

  “Huh?”

  Rolling his eyes, he nudged her toward the chair and paused for one more kiss. It had been a really long day. “That was my ineloquent way of saying I love you.”

  “You might not when I start complaining. Eat your ice cream first.”

  There it was again—that something. How had he ever thought he wanted to stay away? Because you knew you’d fall and hard. You knew it’d keep you here and you stupidly thought that’d be the end of the world. “Idiot.”

  “What?”

  “Just reminding myself that I’m not too bright at times. So, what is up with the Christmas explosion and the tears. I assume they’re related?”

  Tears filled her eyes, making Chad regret asking. “We can’t have a tree. We can’t have the tree blocks on the tables or any of the little candles in their usual places. We can’t have anything.”

  “Why?”

  “I tried. I had the tree assembled and in place, and they pulled it over—twice.” She sighed and added, “Each.”

  “So we teach them not to touch it.”

  “I can’t spend all day redirecting them from that tree. I don’t have time.” She took another bite and groaned. “Man, this is exactly what I needed.” To his astonishment, she poured more hot fudge over the top and took another bite. “Perfect.”

  “Ok, so we put the tree where they can’t reach it this year.”

  “Such as?”

  Possibilities clicked through his mind like one of her View Master reels. “Well, if it’ll fit, we could put it in the library on top of the bookshelves in the center.”

  “There’s nowhere for presents there, though.”

  “Ok, then what about the dining room table. We don’t need to eat in there. This is big enough.” Why it was such a huge deal, Chad wasn’t sure, but he’d find a way to calm her if it killed him. And it might.

  “That might work.” She sighed. “It’s always been by that window.”

  “And some people hang them upside down from the ceiling.”

  Willow laughed. “You’re not going to fool me with that.”

  “I’m not kidding. They were crazy popular a couple of years back. Mom and Aunt Libby flipped over them.”

  “They liked trees that hang upside down from the ceiling.”

  Chuckling at the flat tone of her voice, Chad shook her head. “No, they flipped as in became indignant, flipped out, got ticked.”

  “Smart women those Tesdall-Sullivans.”

  He leaned over and kissed her—much too briefly for his taste. “Sure are.”

  “If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting in an undecorated house.”

  “Make you a deal,” Chad began.

  “Okaay…”

  “We table the décor problem until morning. I have three days off and I plan to enjoy them with my family. We’ll figure this out. There has to be a way to enjoy it all—just differently for a year or two.”

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she finished her ice cream, put away the fudge, and carried their dishes to the sink. “Okay.”

  He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest as she rinsed their bowls. “C’mon upstairs, lass. This’ll look less awful in the morning,” Chad murmured, tugging her away from the sink.

  They stared at one another over the wails of their boys. Chad shrugged. “If we can’t make them happy, one of us might as well have some sanity. Go for a walk or something.”

  “What if they’re sick?”

  “There’s no fever, they have no stuffy or runny noses—”

  “They’re both running like rainwater.”

  “Because they’re crying. I think they’re both overtired.” Even as he spoke, Chad had a new idea. “We could drive to Mom’s. They’d probably fall asleep on the way. We could go see a movie or maybe a game at RU.”

  “We’re going tomorrow anyway though, remember?”

  “So we go a night early. I’ll call and see if Caleb—”

  “He has school.”

  “Then Ben—or even Charlie Janovick.”

  “Charlie might like the money. I know he said something at church last week about it being slow right now.”

  “Charlie it is.” Chad nudged her. “Can I call?”

  “I’ll go pack.”

  Chad met her in their room minutes later, one wailing boy in each arm, both struggling to get down and clinging to him at the same time. “Charlie said just to drop off the keys and he’ll handle it. He promised to call if he needs help.”

  “Can you fill a backpack with diapers and longies? I’m almost done here.”

  “That was fast.”

  Willow grinned. “I need them to stop screaming before I join them.”

  Chad pulled up to his parents’ house just after nine o’clock. “Looks like Chuck is here.”

  “I haven’t seen him in a couple of months!” Willow climbed from the van and met Chad at the front. “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For getting me away before I went insane. I needed that movie—ridiculous as it was—and I needed it badly.”

  “It was kind of crazy,” Chad mused as he led her to the door. “But, Christmas movies usually are.”

  “I think I remember Mother saying that was the best thing about Christmas movies—that they were either so tender they wrung your heart or so silly that they forced you to be joyful in spite of yourself.”

  “Sounds about right.” He pushed open the door and followed Willow inside.

  She stood in the entryway, her eyes riveted on the sight of Chuck holding Liam. “Chad, look,” she whispered.

  Before Chad could respond, Chuck’s voice boomed out, “Hey, they’re back!”

  Liam awoke, protesting against the jarring noise so close to his little head. Stunned himself, Chuck stood and began trying to soothe the little guy. Willow started toward them to rescue Chuck and then stepped back again. Chad, thinking she’d decided to let him handle it, also stepped forward, but Willow stopped him. “No, look.”

  Despite Chuck’s best efforts, Liam refused to calm himself. Willow eventually reached for the boy, but Chuck turned. “I’ll get him. We’re good pals, me and Liam, aren’t we Cheri?”

  “He’s been holding that kid since you left.”

  “Probably needs a diaper,” Chad suggested.

  “I can do that. Where’s the stuff?”

  That offer struck the three Tesdalls dumb. Cheri found her voice first. “They’re cloth, Chuck.”<
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  “So? You still take a gross one off and put a clean one on. How hard can it be?”

  Cheri stood and passed Lucas to Chad. “This I gotta see.”

  Lucas fussed and almost dropped back to sleep, but one eye fluttered open long enough to see Willow. He reached for her. The moment her arms wrapped around her son, Lucas practically demanded a before bed snack. She sighed. “I’ll be back down in a bit.”

  “Just sit in Dad’s chair.”

  “I can’t, Chad!”

  “Chuck is changing Liam. Trust me, you’ll have time.” When she didn’t fumble with her sweater, he added, “I’ll get a towel and throw it over you if they come in before I can stop them.”

  The hesitation lasted only long enough for Lucas to jerk at her sweater again. “Okay, but you’d better.”

  “Lucas is a speed nurser. He’ll be done before you can finish trying to hide what you’re doing from me.”

  “I do not!”

  “Well,” he conceded, “maybe not, but you sure try to hide you from me.”

  “It’s not decent to sit around with your clothes half off!”

  “And it’s not indecent for your husband to happen to see a bit of skin whenever you feed his child,” Chad teased.

  She rolled her eyes before gazing down at their son. “And this from the man who flipped out because I walked around with my shirt unbuttoned and two milking machines strapped to my chest. Those things covered almost every inch of me.”

  “I’ve got news for you, lass.”

  With her hair half drooped over one eye, it looked as if she raised one eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  “That was the real complaint—covering every inch…”

  “Liar.”

  He shrugged. “Had to try.”

  Lucas popped off and gave her a milk-faced grin. Willow tugged her sweater into place as she murmured low. “Your daddy is trying to be ornery.” As she shifted him, the boy responded with a deep belch.