“So tell him that.”
“I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and besides, he’s the expert on this stuff.”
Willow’s head shook from the moment Becca spoke the word, “hurt.” “You can’t do that. He may be the one with the million and one ideas for creating an exquisite wedding and reception on a shoestring, but you’re there to balance him—to keep his ideas realistic. He can’t do everything and he shouldn’t.”
“Josh’s here!” Chad stepped into the kitchen. “Thought I should warn you.”
Becca’s eyes flew to the window, waiting for that moment that Josh would pass on his way to the back door. Chad and Willow exchanged amused glances before Willow said, “Would you like us to take the boys for a walk so you can talk?”
“No. I might need back up. I think Josh is used to me deferring to him so he’s not ‘hearing’ my concerns. Maybe if you’re here and you share your opinion, he’ll listen.”
Seconds passed as Willow considered Becca’s words. Just as Josh’s knock came at the back door, she said, “As long as you can take me saying what I think, that’s fine.”
While Becca stood to greet Josh, Willow grabbed a stack of bags and began drawing the arcs on them. “I’ll do that, Lass. You’re the only one who can paint, but I can draw circles.”
“Arcs, and no you can’t. You have to keep our sons from climbing the fence!” She dove and managed to save Liam from toppling head first onto the brick hearth beneath the stove.
“I’ll do that.” Josh stepped in, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up on the rack by the door. “I can trace arcs.”
“Nuh uh. You cut, I trace.” Becca wiggled cramped fingers. “My hands are killing me.”
“Kari’s still asleep in the dining room. Why don’t I take the boys for a walk? They’re getting antsier by the minute.”
Willow winked at Becca and added, “That reminds me. A box arrived for you this morning. It’s in the barn on the bales by Lacey’s stall. You might want to make sure it’ll work for you.”
“What is it?”
“A box full of something I know nothing about so you’d better just inspect it yourself.” She grinned up at him. “Need help with the boys’ jackets?”
“Nah. I’ve got it.”
As Chad left the room, Willow stared at the paintbrush in her hand, the realization that yet another change had occurred washing over her. Becca snickered. “I wondered when you’d realize it.”
Josh frowned. “Realize what?”
“She’s absolutely comfortable showing blatant affection for him in front of anyone. That wasn’t a peck on the cheek when she thinks no one is looking, or didn’t you notice?”
“I noticed, but I’ve seen it before.”
Willow shook her head. “But Becca is right. I didn’t realize I’d gotten that comfortable.”
“Don’t worry. You don’t do it in town, but around here—yeah. It’s pretty much standard now. I love it.”
“You love to watch me kiss my husband?” Willow’s stomach knotted at the idea.
“I love to watch you so happy with him—so comfortable.”
Josh nodded, smiling. “It makes you more… you.” At her questioning look he added, “The Willow I met that first day was completely comfortable with who she was and what she wanted. When I first met Chad, you were comfortable with him touching you in public, but anytime he moved to kiss you, you froze just a little. It was forced.”
Becca nodded as Willow tossed her a questioning look. “I noticed it too. You were reasonably comfortable with the kiss at your wedding, but after that…”
“I had a lot of practice before that kiss.” The couple with her snickered. Embarrassed, Willow tried again. “You know what I mean. When I found out that Aggie waited until her wedding to kiss Luke, I told Chad I did not intend to do that for the first time in front of everyone. Ew.”
Chad burst through the door, Lucas over one shoulder and pushing Liam ahead of him. “I can’t believe you did that! Thanks!”
“Will it work?”
Becca and Josh asked in unison, “Will what work?”
“She got a double kid’s saddle for Lacey.”
“With helmets,” Willow added, a smirk on her lips. “Wouldn’t do to have the cop’s sons riding without helmets.” She nodded at her wriggling boys. “Want help getting them up?”
“Sure.”
She dashed for her camera and then followed Chad outside. She kept Lucas away from Lacey’s hooves until Chad had Liam buckled into the front saddle. Then she stepped as far away from the horse. “Well, Liam looks like he’s having fun already.”
“Can you buckle his helmet?”
Willow glared at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Had to try. Holding the reins as far away from Lacey as he could, Chad leaned in for a quick kiss before leading the horse away from the house and down to the drive.
Willow waited, her camera poised for the perfect picture. Though she took several shots, none had that “zing” she hoped for. None said, “This is worthy of showing Wes Hartfield.” Then, just as she turned to go, Chad glanced over his shoulder at her. She snapped the picture and glanced at the screen. “Perfect.”
As Willow stepped inside the kitchen, she listened to Becca and Josh discussing plans and wondered if Becca would gather the courage to admit the true reason for her discomfort with the sachet idea. Other options presented themselves, but she shot each one down as less interesting than the last. Lost in her own thoughts, she almost missed Josh’s next words.
“—says we can’t use the hay bales. It’s something about health codes.”
“No! That’s why we did this. We could have had the wedding before now and out here if we wanted it to be a sterile shelter kitchen.”
Becca’s distress prompted Willow to rinse out her brush. “So you can’t have the bales?”
“Josh says Barney won’t let us, and we made all those covers already.”
“We’ll just have to build them then.”
Josh and Becca stared at her, confused, but Willow had already begun sketching plans for “bale boxes.” After a moment, Josh asked, “Build what—how?”
“We’ll build boxes and cover them with straw. It’ll work.”
“But isn’t that more health hazard? It’s still straw.” Becca stared at Josh, hope filling her eyes. “Do you think—”
“Let me call Barney.”
A minute later, he turned to them grinning. “It’s a go. Something about bales being full of dust and possible bugs but straw glued being ‘clean’ or at least clean enough.”
“One problem solved,” Becca muttered.
“What other problems do we have? It’s all coming together perfectly.”
“These bags for one. The cake flavor for another.”
“Right… cake. I forgot about that. I wish one of us hated everything but one.”
Josh’s statement gave Willow a perfect opening. “So if Becca disliked chocolate, that would be off the table?”
Surprise flooded Josh’s face. “Of course!”
“But her dislike for the lavender sachets is inconsequential?”
“I just don’t think many people are going to want lemonade in October.” He turned to her. “Who wouldn’t want a nice sachet at any time of year?”
“Most men, for one.” Willow waited for Josh to look her way before she added, “I’m just surprised you’d push for something when Becca is obviously not excited about it.”
“I—I thought—” He frowned. “You really don’t like it, do you?”
Becca’s answer came in nearly a whisper, the agony of confrontation written plainly on her face. “Not particularly.”
“Coming from Becca, that says a lot to me,” Willow murmured as she picked up her brush again.
“What do you mean?”
“Since when does Becca not defer to another person’s preference?”
Silence hung between the three of them until Josh said,
“Lavender lemonade it is.”
Chapter 191
Argosy Junction’s, “Thankful for You” erupted from her phone, causing Willow to start and drop her mixing spoon. She glanced at the phone before answering. “Hello? Becca?”
“Just thought I’d let you know, the mail truck was at your box as I drove past. And my dress is all altered. It looks amazing. Oh, and I’ve got yours in the car too. I’ll bring it tonight.” After a moment’s pause she added, “I also bought that teddy. I just had to have it.”
“The bear for the ring or the scrap of fabric for a floor decoration?”
“Floor decoration. That’s rich.” Becca’s giggles filled the phone. “I can’t believe I bought it, but it is exactly what I think Josh would buy if he wanted one for himself.”
“Do you know how odd that sounds?” Willow paused. “Then again, it doesn’t—not for Josh.”
“He’ll keep me feminine or die trying.”
“Thanks for the call. I’ve been trying to talk myself into getting the boys outside, but I didn’t want to do it. This’ll spur me on.” Willow began pulling out jackets and Kari’s wrap.
“I could turn around and come back—bring it even.”
“Thanks, but they need fresh air. I’m just really tired today and didn’t feel like it. The air will invigorate me—maybe enough to work on Christmas presents while they’re sleeping.”
“You need to spin that wool.”
“Oh! That sounds like fun.” Willow glanced at the neglected spinning wheel in the corner. “I like that idea. Thanks for reminding me.”
With Kari strapped to her chest and a boy holding on to each of her hands, Willow and her sons walked to the road. Along the way, she pointed out the cows in the east pasture, the sheep in the west, and the birds flying overhead. “They’re going to where it’s warm—maybe Arizona or even Mexico!”
Liam stared agape before saying, “’Exito.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s Spanish for leave, but it sounds like it. Daddy will like that one.” She pulled out her phone and dialed. “Chad, listen.” Holding the phone close to Liam, she said, “Birds go to Mexico.”
“’Exito.”
Chad’s laughter whispered around her as she pulled the phone away from Liam. “Isn’t that hilarious? Who knew a mispronunciation could be so apropos?” She chased Lucas down and led him back to where Liam waited. “We’ve got to go. I just thought you should hear that while he was still mispronouncing it.”
At the mailbox, one lone letter lay at the bottom of the big “tomb,” as Chad liked to call it. The return address made her smile, even in her curiosity. “Mr. Myner wrote us a letter, boys. I wonder what he has to say.” She tucked it between the wrap and her shirt and took the boys’ hands again. Kari stared up at her, wide-eyed. “You’ve got pink cheeks, Miss Kari—unfortunate choice of words.” She dropped Liam’s hand and pulled off the thin gloves she wore, placing the back of her hand on Kari’s cheek. “But you’re not cold, so that’s good. Still, let’s get to the porch.”
All the way back, she pointed out everything she could find to show the boys. Clouds, birds, a perfect red leaf on the road. Even as she walked, Willow felt the stress of the morning and her exhaustion melting. Autumn in Fairbury—a beautiful time indeed.
Chad picked up the letter again, rereading it for the third time. Willow’s excitement had seemed excessive until he read it for himself. Now he understood. Myner’s idea was revolutionary. Would anyone be interested? The moment he thought it, Chad knew it was the wrong question. The question should be, would enough be interested. Could it be done?
He glanced at it once more.
…have many questions, of course. I don’t have the knowledge to hope to begin without discovering a few more things first. Willow mentioned things she would do—things in society— if she could, but she didn’t expound on it. What did she mean? What kinds of things was she talking about? What would she do if she could?
I want to come back—to talk to you. November is a busy month for me—as is December. I wonder about January. I could come on MLK weekend or the last weekend of the month. I’d send a list of questions ahead of time if you agree.
I think I can afford this if enough people catch the vision and invest. It’ll be an enormous risk. If I fail, my retirement will be gone. I’ve saved and invested almost everything for years for this time. I wanted an early retirement. I can have it if I do this, but if it fails, I’ll be working until the day I die.
An entire community designed to operate with the principles behind Kari and Willow’s vision. Could it be done? Would anyone want to do it? Chad glanced at the note again and once more asked himself the question he seemed incapable of answering. Could it be done?
Kari’s cry drifted from upstairs. By the sound of it, the little lass sported a new diaper. How Kari hated to be wet—and hated to have it removed. “She’s just as changeable as most women,” he muttered as he folded the letter and tucked it back in Willow’s journal. The cry cut off abruptly. “Snack bar’s open for business.”
Restless, his mind zinging with thoughts and ideas, Chad pulled on his jacket once again and stepped out the back door, his hands resting on his hips as he gazed out over the moonlit landscape. Portia raised her head from her paws, glanced at him, and then dropped it again. “Beautiful night, girl.”
The dog’s only answer was a half-snort, half-whimper.
Two hundred acres they owned—small for a real farm, but large enough for their needs and goals. The farms and houses Myner seemed to desire would mostly be smaller… quarter, half, and whole acre plots as well as a few with ten or twenty acres. Self-sustaining. That was the goal. Could they do it? Would people live where every neighbor kept a few chickens? What about smell? People weren’t accustomed to the scents of animals in their back yards.
Separate plots downwind from the houses? They could keep animals separate from their homes where the stench of manure wouldn’t encroach on neighbors. Bad for winter though. Maybe not.
A star fell, whizzing through the sky until it disappeared behind the trees. “If wishes were real,” he murmured more to himself than to the dog who lay with head cocked as if waiting for instructions. “If wishes were real, I’d wish that we knew if the idea would work before we did it. If it won’t, it would be good to know it before it was too late. Good for Myner anyway.”
Even as he spoke, Chad knew the man would come. More time on the farm, more time talking to Willow about things like consumer packaging waste, more time feeling the peace that was Walden farm—Ralph Myner didn’t have a hope for saying no if he came again. He’d do it. The success of it remained the only question.
He stepped away from the porch, past the clothes line, and looked up at the house. The boys’ room windows lay dark against the siding. The bathroom had a faint glow in the window—proof that Willow was rinsing out a diaper before she fell asleep again. Kari’s room lay dark as well. Their daughter didn’t sleep there yet. Willow seemed incapable of letting the girl have her space at night.
He could sleep here—live here with us for the weekend. Is it safe? The moment he thought it, Chad changed his mind. Myner seemed like a decent man. He’d provided excellent references, but references or not, Chad wasn’t ready to let a stranger sleep in their house. We could get a travel trailer for the weekend, though. Lock the door after he left for bed. That would be closer to the experience—give him a taste for what he’s planning before he spends the money.
Money reminded him of one more thing. As Chad strolled toward the back door once more, he pulled out his phone and made a note for himself. CALL BILL ABOUT MYNER’S IDEA.
A last glance at Portia prompted one last comment. “If anyone knows where to find enough affordable land, Bill will. He’ll also know if we should invest or stay far away from the idea.”
The dog turned her head away and snorted.
“Yeah. You’re probably right. Not going to happen.”
Liam and Luc
as chased balls of yarn around the living room as Willow wound skeins on her winder. “I’ll probably have enough to make that sweater. Do you really think Mom would like it?”
“She’s been talking about it every time I see her for the past six months. If she’ll talk about a sweater in July, she wants it.” Chad gazed into his daughter’s eyes as he dandled her on his knee. “Grandma likes it. Mama needs to trust me.”
Willow’s phone rang. Chad watched amused as she continued winding. “Want me to get that for you?”
“If you like.”
Chad fumbled for it and glanced at the screen. “It’s Bill.” He accepted the call and answered. “Hey, Bill. I’ve got Willow’s phone—yep. She’s winding yarn. You know how she is.”
Willow lobbed a small ball of yarn at him, grazing Kari’s head in the process. “Ornery.”
“Sure. We’re just sitting here twiddling our knitting needles.”
“No one is knitting anything—yet,” Willow corrected.
“She insists we’re not knitting anything, but if I know that girl, she’s knitting all kinds of stuff in her head.” He grinned as she stuck out her tongue at him. “See you in a few. Can you stay for lunch? I’ll get her to make pizza.”
Without waiting to hear an answer from him, Willow picked up her winder and the bobbin of yarn she had yet to finish and carried them to the dining room table. Even before Chad disconnected the call, he heard her pounding the steak she’d planned for dinner into thin pieces for the pizza. Chad called out to her. “Don’t forget the Italian dressing. That made it amazing last time.”
“Got it. Why’s he coming?”
“I talked to him about Myner’s idea. He said he was going to scope out property and see what kind of information he could come up with. If it can’t be done, we might save Myner a trip.”
“I hope it’ll work. I want to see it.”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 6 Page 10
