Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 5

by Chautona Havig

  The boy took off, dodging three pedestrians with an ease that seemed almost Olympian. If human hurdles ever became a “thing,” Aiden would be a champion. This time, Aiden hurried into The Market without hesitation. How could he be so certain?

  A tourist stopped him, asking directions to The Coventry. Chad missed Aiden’s return, but saw the boy rush toward Bookends, pause at a car just outside, and then disappear inside the store. This time, Chad walked—the opposite route—but he walked and kept his eyes open as he did.

  Aiden dashed from the store, plugged one quarter into the meter out front, and then raced for the other car, almost not waiting for a car that crept past the intersection. At the other meter, the boy inserted coins—how many, Chad couldn’t tell—and then strolled down First Street. Chad continued around the square to Bookends and stepped inside.

  “Hey, Todd.”

  “Chad! I’ve got a book for Willow, here. She asked for something on sustainable agriculture for Ryder, and it came in today.”

  “I’ll stop in and get it tomorrow. What can you tell me about Aiden Cox?”

  Todd shrugged. “He’s a smart kid, kind of dare devilish but—”

  Something in Todd’s demeanor told Chad the man was hiding something. “Come on, spill it.”

  “Spill what? You know how the kid is.”

  “He was just in here. What was he doing?” Chad waited a moment and added, “I can ask all of your customers if you like—you know, interrupt them while they’re relaxing and becoming attached to the book in their hands. You know how much people love to stay where an officer is asking questions…”

  “You’re mean when you want something.”

  Chad nodded. “I’ll take that. Now what was he doing?”

  “Just letting the patrons know that their meter was about to expire. Nice of him.”

  The words, though innocuous enough, did not ring true somehow. “Nice of him how?”

  “Saving citizens the cost of a ticket? How is that not nice?”

  “What are you not telling me?” Chad demanded. “I can see on your face that there’s more to it.”

  “I’ll tell you what; it was worth a quarter to save myself thirty bucks in fines.” Wilma Vanderhausen beamed at Chad from the couch across the room.

  “A quarter?” From the corner of his eye, Chad saw Todd making slicing motions across his neck. “Oh, for the meter.”

  “No, for Aiden. He has quite the business mind; that little man does. He’s probably making a fortune.”

  Slack-jawed, Chad turned to Todd, and caught the man choking himself, trying to stop Wilma from speaking. “What’s going on, Todd?”

  “He’s just making a little money for his effort. People are happy to pay the kid for his services.”

  “Pay him what?”

  At his elbow, Wilma beamed. “A quarter. I told you. He charges folks a quarter for every dollar he exchanges for change and for paying the meter for you. A lot of people seem not to have change on them. The poor boy said he’d had to go get more quarters three times already today.”

  “He’s charging people a quarter to keep their meters fed?”

  Todd nodded. “Yep. Like I said, smart kid. I bet he’s made a minor fortune today.”

  “—can’t believe that kid. I mean, that’s extortion!”

  “That’s solid business sense if you ask me,” Willow argued as she tore lettuce and tossed it into the bowl.

  “Business sense! The kid is charging twenty-five—actually, technically one hundred percent if it’s just a quarter hour!”

  “And people are happy to pay it. Who cares what they want to do with their money?” Willow grabbed the tomato nearest her and began slicing. “Chad, is it illegal to charge people to provide a service to them? If he charges a quarter for picking up their mail every day they’re gone on vacation, is that a crime?”

  “Of course not, but this—”

  “Is just another service. They’re paying him for his time to procure change, watch the meters to see when they need to be replenished, let them know, feed the meter, and continue to keep watch. They could say no and walk out to pay it themselves. I’m sure some do. Those who would rather pay him the quarter—which is crazy cheap in my opinion—well, that’s their business.”

  Frustrated, Chad shoved the chair away from the table and carried his glass to the windowsill. “I’ll go take care of the animals.”

  “If Becca hasn’t beaten you to it. That girl—I swear, I’ll be glad when the garden is in full swing or I’ll never get to do anything again. She tried to beat rugs today!” Willow paused. “Wait, should you tell her to stop working and charging us for it?”

  “Very funny.” At the door, Chad paused. “You know what the sad part is?”

  “What’s that?”

  Lucas threw himself at Chad’s legs in protest as Chad pushed open the door. “C’mon, little guy. You can help me.” To Willow, he added, “I bet if he didn’t charge people, they’d give him the whole dollar and tell him to put in a quarter or two for the meter. He’d make more if he just let people tip him than by charging them.”

  Liam stood at the back door, calling for Daaaayyyyyeeee until it became readily apparent that his father would not return for him. Willow retrieved him before he managed to push through the screen and grabbed a chair at the same time. “Come help me.”

  Once she washed his hands, she pulled a handful of lettuce from the bowl and set it in front of him. “Can you put this in the bowl? One, two, three…” It took half a dozen pieces, but Liam caught on and tried to put away almost as much lettuce as he removed again. “You know, I think we should go into town tomorrow. We’ll take the stroller, see the sights along the highway, and then maybe get some ice cream at the Confectionary too.”

  She glanced around the room before she added, “And we’ll suggest trying the tip approach to Aiden. Maybe he’ll make more.”

  With that secret told, she grabbed a washed carrot and the potato peeler. “Let’s shred a bit of this in there too. I like carrots in my salad. I bet you will too. Carrots are very good for you. They have alpha and beta-carotene in them. You will probably love to gnaw on them when your teeth get a bit bigger.”

  Cucumber slices, yellow and green peppers, and homemade croutons came next. “What about Daddy’s cheddar cheese? He likes that chopped up in there too.”

  Liam stared at her, hand frozen in mid-air as he listened to her question. After what seemed like several minutes, he nodded solemnly and said, “No!”

  “How very contradictory, my son. I think we’ll go with the nod, though. Maybe a bit of cheese will mellow him a bit. That might help me whoop him at chess. I’ve been in the mood for a game for days.”

  The trip to town changed everything in Willow’s life. Nothing startling happened—perhaps that proved the point. Still, it became one of those days that defined a new chapter for her. The ability to leave the farm and take her sons to town to satisfy a whim soothed an aggravated and angry wound on her soul—one she hadn’t realized she had been fighting. While she ignored the extra gardens, Becca hoed, weeded, and fertilized them. She would return to dry clothes flapping in the breeze and she would chase her boys through the sheets.

  “Oh, look! See that?” No response from the stroller prompted her to peek through the top “window” of the canopy. Both boys snoozed. “You two are not allowing me the opportunity to instill any kind of information into those little brains. I’m supposed to talk to you all the time, and I’m perfectly willing to do so, but really, what’s the point if you’re sleeping through it. And, for the record, I thought that whole idea was absurd. Those magazines Mom brings are usually so ridiculous, but I found something in Mother’s journal that said the same thing. How she talked to me because she heard something about how important it was for mental development. So, here I am talking to you, and for what? Nothing.”

  Considering herself excused from the responsibility of explaining the flora and fauna surrounding Fair
bury on their trek to town, Willow lapsed into thoughtful silence. That silence lasted until just a mile outside town when her phone rang. The boys slept through the blast of some country song that Chad must have decided she needed to hear. William’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Hello, William! How is everything?”

  “Good and bad, depending on your take.”

  Her heart sank. Lawsuit. They had been prepared for it, but William promised not to mention anything until he knew something definite. “And what are they—the good and bad news, that is.”

  “The bad news is that they did present the corporation’s lawyers with a demand for damages.”

  “Is that common?” The question felt inadequate, but Willow didn’t quite know how to respond. Knowing a lawsuit was imminent and hearing of it were two very different things.

  “It’s what we expected. The amount was excessive, which we also expected.”

  “Do I have to give up the farm?”

  William laughed. “Not at all. The insurance lawyers drafted a counter settlement and submitted it for review.”

  “Insurance lawyers?”

  “You do remember that you are covered against this kind of thing, right?” William must have taken her silence as denial, because he charged onward, assuring her that all would be well. “I think we’ll settle out of court for about two hundred thousand dollars. That’s the figure the woman from Mayflower Trust gave me.”

  “Oh, we can afford that!” The relief she felt nearly made her weak in the knees.

  “Willow, you have insurance to cover this. Sure, there’s a ten thousand dollar deductible, but that’s all you have to pay. I was just calling to tell you that it’s probably not going to court and—”

  “Why do I only have—wait. Insurance to cover getting sued for my mother killing a man? Are you insane?”

  “No, it’s just a basic corporate liability account. Your mother wanted it in case you shot someone while—” he stopped abruptly. “Oh. Wow. Yeah, sorry.”

  “That’s okay. She protected us. That’s the main thing. She was wrong—so very wrong—but it was an accident.”

  At the turnoff to Fairbury, Willow disconnected the call and jogged across the highway. She stopped at the convenience store, wiped the boys’ perspiring faces, brushed her hair, changed her shoes, and wrestled the stroller into the store to purchase a bottle of water.

  The girl behind the counter waved. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Wow! They’re so big. Do they walk yet?”

  “No.” Willow winked at the girl’s surprise. “They run, though. Run everywhere. Walking appears to be beneath them.”

  It took several passes up and down the street to find Aiden. The boy dashed out of the bank, his pockets jingling like a panhandler’s cup. Willow called to him as he raced past her. “When you’re done with the next one, come see me on that bench.”

  The boy froze. “Uh—Mrs. Tesdall…”

  “Go ahead. You don’t want to miss a customer. Just come see me over there. I have an idea for you.”

  At the square, she pulled out a fan and waved it gently to cool the boys, but both lads awoke once the gentle rocking of the stroller ceased. Liam met her eyes and grinned. “Eh!”

  Taking that to mean, “Up,” Willow unbuckled him and set him on his feet. “Whoa, son. Steady. Take it easy. One foot and then another. There you go.” The toddler took half a dozen steps toward the street and glanced back at Willow as if for permission. “What’s Lucas doing?”

  That worked. The boy turned and rushed to the stroller, poking his brother’s chest. A battle began, one that no longer seemed worth the hassle of keeping Liam out of the street. “Should have just walked him back,” she muttered.

  Willow produced balls from the bag on the back of the stroller and handed one to each boy. While Liam tried to bounce his on the grass, she unbuckled Lucas and watched the competition begin. The boys chased balls, each other, and the occasional butterfly. She felt a little like Portia, herding her sons away from the road and toward the center of the grassy area—repeatedly. As she kept them corralled, her eyes wandered the downtown area, watching Aiden.

  He stayed busy; no one could argue that. In and out each store, checking cars, racing back. It took her several minutes to realize that half of his activity was a show, but whether for her benefit or to impress potential customers, she couldn’t decide. As she caught his eye and beckoned. Slumped shoulders told her half or more of it had been a ruse. The kid had spunk. She respected that.

  By the time he reached her side, Willow saw she was ready to bolt. “I heard about your little business enterprise.”

  “Officer Tesdall doesn’t like it.”

  “I know. Men don’t like losing to the competition.”

  Aiden cocked his head. “Competition?”

  “Sure. Chad’s job is to find people who didn’t pay the meter and give them a ticket. Every meter you help someone pay is one he ‘loses.’ See?” Willow grinned. “It’s healthy for his pride. You’re doing good, but he said something that made me think.”

  “They’re going to make me stop, aren’t they? Man, I’ve been making good money too.”

  “No… but Chad said that you’d make more money if you did it free.”

  The boy laughed. “I almost believed you.”

  “No, he’s right.” Willow reached out and tugged Aiden’s sleeve before diving to stop Lucas for running toward the road again. “If you just do it, some people won’t give you a dime, sure. But most people just need another fifteen minutes, right?”

  “Yeah…”

  “If you go in and ask if they’d like you to run a quarter out to the meter for them, they won’t have the quarter usually, will they?”

  Slowly, Aiden nodded. “I see…”

  “Right. So you pull out four quarters and offer to trade for a dollar. What’s going to happen?”

  A grin split Aiden’s face. “You’re right. They’ll just give me the dollar!”

  “Yep. And even if you walk past and see them there and plug in another quarter for them, you’re not any farther behind than you were. But I bet—Lucas! No!” She dove to stop the boy—again. “I bet if you let them know they had another quarter hour, they’d offer to reimburse you—most of the time.”

  “So you’re helping me beat Cha—Officer Tesdall.”

  “No…” Willow hesitated before she winked. “Between you and me, it’s just delayed. You’ll go back to school in a few months, people will be used to you thinking for them, and then Chad’ll get them. And, let’s face it. Doing ‘his’ idea will help mollify him.”

  “Mollify?”

  “It means to appease or soothe.” She wrestled with her son as he fought her restraining arms. “He’ll like that you liked his idea, and he’ll respect you.”

  “You think so?” Aiden didn’t give her a chance to answer. “I think that’s funny.”

  “What’s funny?”

  “Your kid. He’s fighting you protecting him—kind of like I do with the helmet.” The boy kicked the ground with his toe. “I gotta go.”

  She waited until he took a couple of steps away before she asked, “Aiden?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why do you fight the helmet?”

  The boy didn’t turn around. He hesitated before he mumbled, “Don’t like it.”

  “Don’t like it and…”

  Willow saw him stiffen. He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “Gives us—the cops and me—something to talk about.”

  With that, Aiden turned and jogged back to the crosswalk, turned around, and waved. She chased the boys, rolled in the grass, and tickled them until they gasped for air. The sun slowly arced toward the west, but still they played. Just before Willow decided they should start for home, Chad parked his cruiser and strode across the grass, swinging Lucas into the air as the boy met him halfway.

  “Been watching you guys. Wanted to stop, but you know—”

  Despite the very publ
ic place, Willow stood on tiptoe and kissed him, ignoring the fact that half the town could be watching. As she sank her heels back into the grass, she giggled at Liam’s hands pushing Chad away. “I know that I love you. That’s enough for me.”

  Chapter 170

  From somewhere deep within her mind, Willow heard music—some song she couldn’t place and didn’t like. She rolled over, the sound growing more insistent. Her eyes opened, and she stared at the clock. Independence Eve. The music came again, this time recognizable.

  “Phone…”

  She dove for it, but not before it went to voicemail. Almost seven weeks too early for Chelsea—but it was. The message said simply, “Going to the hospital,” before a cry of pain cut it off.

  Willow hesitated. If she waited the hour until Chad got off work, it might mean Chelsea was alone for that time. Then again, waking Becca just for an hour difference… Despite her instinctive resistance, she punched Becca’s number. “Chelsea—”

  Becca didn’t let her finish. “Coming. Give me five to get there.”

  Willow expected ten—even fifteen—minutes, but Becca arrived in six. Still dressed in her pajamas, her feet stuffed sockless into tennis shoes, she burst through the back door, with a blanket in one hand and her flashlight in the other. “Get out of here. Call when you know something.”

  She started listing off things for Becca to remember, but the girl waved her out the door. “Send me a text, call me and leave a message, anything. Just go.” As Willow stepped outside the door, Becca called back. “Do you need your breast pump?”

  As much as she hated the idea, the realization that she’d need to increase her milk supply immediately sent her to the pantry. “Thanks.”

  Prayers flowed from her as she drove along the highway to Brunswick. The boys had been three weeks early. How much more dangerous was seven and a half? Maybe little Kari would only need a few days in the hospital to make sure everything was working well. Maybe they would agree to Willow providing the milk, even if the baby couldn’t nurse yet. Did babies have trouble nursing when they were early? She couldn’t remember.