Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 5

by Chautona Havig

  “Funny.”

  Willow turned to go calling back, “Hey, do you want lunch? I was going to make some taco soup. That recipe your mother gave me is amazing.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  Inside, she pulled out the chair harnesses and strapped the boys into chairs. While they babbled and gnawed on the tough biscuits she made for them each week, she made oatmeal and stirred in a bit of yogurt. It revolted Chad every time he saw her do it, but Willow fed the boys from one spoon and one bowl, alternating bites so that neither boy had to wait for their next bite. It kept their meals from dragging indefinitely and kept them from wailing as they waited—in theory. It didn’t always work exactly as planned but better than when she didn’t.

  Once fed she hurried upstairs to clean them up and change them for their afternoon naps. As she went, something felt wrong, but she didn’t take time to see what it was. Unease crept over her, settling in her heart with each passing minute. By the time she closed the door behind her, Willow leaned against the wall, panic gripping her. It felt similar to the days of terror when papers were moved or baby Jesus disappeared from the manger. Something was different down there.

  Her hand slid toward her pocket. Should she call Chad? Would her grandmother have the ability to start another strange thing from prison? It didn’t seem possible. A new thought kicked her in the gut, sending bile to her throat. The discovery in the bathroom—surely someone wasn’t going to torment them over that! Did people do things like that?

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself back downstairs. Ignoring the resurging feeling of dread as she crossed through the dining room, Willow stepped into the kitchen. Her hand gripped the top of Mother’s rocking chair. She wanted nothing more than to step out the back door, fly to the barn, and beg Chad to figure out the problem for her.

  A semi-hysterical giggle escaped as she stepped into the dining room. The door. Chad had replaced the door for her. All that panic and worry—for nothing. Willow stared at it for a moment, opened it, closed it again, and hurried out to the barn.

  Chad glanced up at her, visibly confused as she stood there giggling. “Wha—”

  “The door. Thank you.” Willow snickered. “Oh, and I’m going to go buy some paint. I’ll bring home sandwiches from The Deli instead of soup. We’ll do soup tomorrow.”

  Chapter 160

  Trees budded all over Walden Farm. Although a few patches of snow remained under the larger trees in the wooded areas at the back of the property, spring had arrived in Fairbury. Willow spent her late April mornings walking with her boys around the property, showing them the trees, the flowers peeking through the thawing earth, and the animals that seemed happy to be out of the large barns.

  One Thursday morning, she stood at the back porch and stared out over the landscape. It looked so different from the place she and her mother had built over the years. Kari would hardly recognize the view before her could she see it. Two barns, two greenhouses, a kitchen garden and a produce garden, the chicken pens and houses quadrupled in size, and cows, goats, and sheep scattered through the pastures. It was beautiful. Kari would have both loved and hated it.

  The work had become overwhelming, though. As each separate function of the farm expanded, the work grew exponentially. And with that additional work came less time to do the things she loved. “Lord, how do I cultivate that balance between what I need to do and what needs to be done? We need fulltime help—maybe even another house for them so they can be here for animal birthing and such. How do I plan for that? Is it too much?”

  Lucas’ little eyes stared up at her solemnly as if he understood the words and his mother’s latest dilemma. His little pudgy hand sought her cheek and rested there for a moment before he giggled. Then, as if embarrassed, he ducked his head into the familiar hollow of her neck on her shoulder and popped his thumb in his mouth.

  “I agree, little one. The whole thing is ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  Before Willow could ask another question or her son make any sign of agreement, the back screen door creaked. Oil that when you go inside, her mind noted. Just as she turned to smile at Chad, the familiar feeling of his arm about her waist and Liam’s hands in her braid stopped her. “Liam, let go.”

  Lucas’ head popped up from her shoulder and the boy whacked the little fists that filled his mother’s hair. Chad laughed and stopped the brawl before it could continue. “Married for two years and you still have men fighting over you.”

  “I am a catch, didn’t you hear? You’d better feel mighty lucky to have tricked me into marrying you.”

  “I thought women did the tricking?”

  Willow’s eyes clouded with confusion. Her brow wrinkled in concentration and then understanding dawned. “Can’t trick a guy into marriage who hasn’t tried to get the privileges of it beforehand, can you?”

  “I’d have likely been arrested for assault on any man that tried.”

  His grin gave Willow that same silly flutter to her heart that she’d grown to love in the weeks leading to and following her wedding. “I’d have paid your bail.”

  “What are you looking at now, lass?”

  “I just noticed how different everything looks than it did. I think it’s time for more change too.”

  “More? Since when are you the one who suggests change?”

  “I think,” Willow continued, ignoring Chad’s teasing, “it is time to hire someone fulltime. I don’t see how we can avoid it.”

  “Is the work getting to be too much?”

  “Not yet.” Her silence made him nervous, and she knew it, but Willow waited a minute before she added, “I just know that with the new baby…”

  “I could quit—come home and focus on the farm.”

  “You’ve always wanted to be an officer. I don’t think you should give that up—not yet.” She pointed to the tree line. “I thought on the other side of those trees, we could put up one of those prebuilt homes.”

  “Who would live there?”

  Willow shrugged. “Not sure about that. We need someone who likes animals and farming both.”

  “Maybe we should leave the boys with Mom and Dad and have a planning weekend.”

  “Planning weekend?”

  Chad took Lucas from her arms and stepped around her. “I’ll take them with me to do the milking. You get the oats on and we’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

  Papers littered the dining room table. While Chad made notes about different options, Willow tried to sort calving, lambing, and kidding schedules from planting, rotation, and harvesting schedules. By the time she laid neat piles of papers front of him, Chad didn’t know where to begin.

  “Ok, so what things do you know you want to do yourself?”

  “The family garden, our sewing, Boho…” Willow hesitated as she considered her options. “Well, most of what I did before Mother died really. I don’t care who cleans the house or beats the rugs. I personally don’t need to do the wood splitting—not usually. I like hanging clothes, but washing them isn’t important to me; I just don’t know how to separate that.”

  Chad’s list split into two sides. On one side, he listed every task that he or Willow preferred to do and on the other he wrote everything they could hire someone to do. When finished, he scrutinized it carefully. “You know, it looks to me like we need a husband and wife team. How can we find someone who doesn’t have more children to add to this mix?”

  “Why no children? Maybe they’d want to make it a family thing like we do.”

  “True. It just seemed like it would be hard for a woman to take care of her family and ours too.” He knew it sounded weak, but he wanted to ensure the idea would work if they hired someone. “Do you think we’ll make enough to cover our expenses with two? Maybe we should just keep Iris for as long as she wants to stay and replace her separately—if she wants to be replaced.”

  Willow seemed lost in thought. At last, she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “I
s there a way—” she stopped, her forehead furrowed in concentration. “I just mean—you know that man, that new one who works for Adric? What if there are other men out there trying to start a new life?”

  “Criminals you mean? You want to invite criminals into our home?”

  Laughing, Willow stood and grabbed cookies from the cookie jar. “Not into our home—onto our property. We did it with Ryder—”

  “You did it with Ryder.”

  “Fine, I did it with Ryder and look how well it worked.”

  Chad didn’t like the look in her eye. He knew that look; it meant their life was about to change more than he had ever imagined possible. “I so wish I could pull the husband card on this.”

  “But you can’t?”

  “Not yet, but if the opportunity arises…”

  Five minutes passed—fifteen. The time seemed to roll by much as it had in the first days of their friendship. The pressing busyness of farm life had been different in past months. As he watched Willow hurry upstairs and heard the bathroom door shut, he added something else to his list. Fix the downstairs bathroom. It had to be done.

  The skip of her feet down the stairs brought a smile to his face. That was his Willow—the one he rarely saw anymore, and the thought wrung his heart. Was it all too much? He’d spent so much money to expand the farm and the success couldn’t be denied, but was it too much? Something in his heart told him it was.

  Seconds turned into minutes as he tried to decide how to broach the subject. At last, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, hands clasped together. “Willow, do you remember why you started selling your produce?”

  “I had too much.” The answer came swiftly.

  “Why did you have too much?”

  Her eyes glanced up at him, concerned. “Because we planted enough for two people to eat all summer, winter, and spring. Well, we always did Mother loved big gardens so much of it became compost. Mother was gone, so…”

  Even now, her voice constricted at the thought of Kari being gone from her life. Chad felt ridiculous for thinking it. Of course, it would still hurt. Would she be the Willow he loved if she could so easily forget her sole companion for the bulk of her life?

  “And the greenhouse. Why did you build it?”

  “Fresh vegetables for us in the winter.” Her pen scribbled out cost projections and expected revenue as she spoke.

  “Why did you keep planting more and more then?”

  “We had a good business. People liked our produce and wanted it.”

  “But did you want to become a produce stand? Did you want all this?”

  Chad watched as her mouth opened to say, “Of course,” and then sighed inwardly as the real answer dawned. An inward struggle showed itself plainly on her features. Willow couldn’t say yes and didn’t want to say no.

  “I don’t know, Chad. I assumed that I did. I mean, we’re doing it, and you and I both know there isn’t much that I do that I don’t want to do.”

  His chuckle brought a smile to her otherwise troubled face. “This is true—very true.”

  “You’re right, though. If people hadn’t expected more, I don’t know if I would have expanded as I did—we did.”

  “I talked you into more animals.”

  “You wanted them. There was no reason not to do it if you wanted it.”

  The words stung. Chad listened as she verbally worked through almost every part of her life until he could no longer stand to hear it. “Stop.”

  “What?” Confusion clouded her eyes.

  “Let’s try this another way. Does it bother you that these things happen here? Remove yourself from the equation. Does it bother you that people buy meat and produce grown on this land?”

  “Not at all. I’m glad they do!”

  “Ok, then. Forget everything and everyone else—including me.” He saw her protest form, but shook his head. “Now, what would your days look like if you only did the things you really want to do and the things you’re sure God wants of you?”

  The answer was a long time coming. By the time Willow was ready to speak, Chad had grown nervous. She looked around her, smiled into his eyes, and sank back against the back of her chair.

  “I’d get up in the morning and feed my family. Mornings when you were home, I wouldn’t bother with milking. Other mornings I would. The boys would watch me clean up after breakfast and as I start lunch. Then we’d go outside and do the laundry together. We’d sing, play, chase each other through the sheets. While they napped I’d spin, work in my flowerbeds, sew, and keep house. On your days off, I’d do things like make soap or candles—things that are very difficult with little boys who could get hurt touching things. In the afternoons, we’d change the animals’ pastures, play some more, and maybe go fishing. After dinner, we’d read books, put puzzles together, and listen to music.”

  She picked at her fingernails. “Is it silly?”

  “Not at all. What around here would you want to change?”

  “I don’t think I want to change much. I just want to be able to call someone and say, ‘The boys and I feel like fishing today. Will you come and butcher a dozen hens?’”

  “But you want to butcher them on other days?”

  “Why not? I can do a dozen while the boys nap if I’m on the ball.” She scooted her chair closer and wrapped her hands around his forearm. “What is it, Chad?”

  “I just don’t want this farm to do things simply because I mentioned them.”

  “We need an employee—one who lives on the farm.”

  “And we need a downstairs bathroom,” Chad added as he stood to hurry upstairs himself.

  “I’ll call a contractor.”

  “Don’t. Luke wants to do it. He, Laird, and I will be able to get it done in a weekend if we put our minds to it.”

  Willow carried their napkins to the sink, shook them out, and dropped them in the laundry basket under the counter. “Just let me know when that’ll be.”

  Something in her tone caught his attention. “Why?”

  “I fully intend to take our boys to your mother’s house for that weekend.”

  Chad felt as if he’d leveled another blow at her. “I’m sorry, lass. It’ll be hard at first, but don’t you think—”

  “Sure, I think and I agree with those thoughts. I also know that there will be music playing, power tools blaring, soda cans all over the place, and I’ll feel like I should help but can’t. It’ll be nicer if I come home and you have it all done for me.”

  The room at the doctor’s office slowly filled with more people than Willow had imagined it could hold. Dr. Kline and his nurse stood next to the monitor watching the screen. Cecily the nurse typed on a keyboard as the doctor measured and pointed out arms, legs, and other body parts as they went. Willow and Chelsea’s mother stood on the opposite side. Ryder even stood near the end of the examining table, looking miserable and a little excited at the same time.

  Dr. Kline glanced up at the group. “Ok, so we do want gender confirmation, is that right?”

  Chelsea nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well if anyone in here doesn’t want to know, you’d better step out. I’ve never been so certain in my life.”

  No one moved. Willow glanced at the doctor and said, “Would you mind showing us first and then telling us? I want to see if I can guess.”

  “Sure.”

  The wand moved away from the baby’s head until he stopped it. “Right there. Talk about a frog-legged baby.”

  Chelsea’s mother choked out, “Frog-legged?”

  “It’s ok, Mrs. Vernon. It’s just what I call a baby who likes to pull the heels up to the bum and flap the knees outward—like a frog.”

  “Well it does give you a perfect view,” the woman agreed, “but I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl at all!”

  “I can.” Chelsea smiled at Willow. “Do you see it? Or, rather, do you not?”

  Willow nodded. “Yes.”

  “You never said it, but
I could tell that you hoped for a girl.”

  Nothing seemed an appropriate answer. If she admitted the truth of Chelsea’s words, she sounded unexcited at the possibility of another son. If she denied it, she lied. Neither option seemed to express the full veracity of her thoughts. “I did. I just can’t imagine not being thrilled to know my boys had another playmate. Can you imagine three little dudes traipsing over the farm?”

  “Dudes. Listen to her, Ryder. Willow is getting so modern.”

  Mrs. Vernon kissed her daughter’s cheek and stepped out of the room. The doctor and nurse took the cue and followed. Willow glanced from Chelsea to Ryder and back to Chelsea. “If you have changed your mind, I will understand.”

  Ryder didn’t speak, but Chelsea nearly shouted, “No.” She swallowed and tried again. “I’m sorry, but no. I am happy for you. I’m glad this baby will be so loved and wanted. I didn’t get why it was so important to Ryder before, but I get it now.”

  “Ryder?”

  Her young friend stared at his feet for a moment and then raised his eyes to meet hers. “I haven’t changed my mind. I’m glad that things worked this way. I really am. I’ll get to see her sometimes too. That’s pretty cool.”

  “Ryder…”

  Willow interrupted Chelsea’s warning. “I like that too. It’s good that he’ll be close. You know you’re welcome out at our place too—even if you change your mind and want to come every week. It’s ok. We’ll make it work somehow.”

  The girl didn’t speak, didn’t respond at all for several long seconds, but she eventually closed her eyes, sighed, and said, “Look, call me callous or insensitive, or—or—non-maternal. Maybe it’s true. But I just have no interest at all. Maybe I’m in denial—”

  Willow stepped out the door and left Chelsea and Ryder to themselves. Sharon Vernon stood leaning against the office wall, a stunned expression on her face. “You ok?”