Though Ashlyn begged for mercy, Willow drove her into the chains of the satyrs. “It is their justice. I am only here to help—to serve.”
Chips flew as she swung the axe again. And again. Her phone rang. Willow answered and turned as Chad said he was two hundred yards out. “Didn’t want to find out you’d planned to drop it right where I’m walking.”
“Other direction. Be careful as you come through. Delaine is leading a dancing celebration just south of me. I wouldn’t want you to step on them.”
“What are you talking about?”
Willow drove the axe into the side of the tree and disconnected the phone. She walked to meet him, stepping around her imaginary revelers. Alone, with only the trees to observe, she flung herself at him, kissing him with an abandon she rarely showed. “It feels so good to be out here.”
“Feels cold to me. Now who is with you?”
She laughed. “I have quite a kingdom here. You see, the evil queen of the Meliai—”
“Dare I ask what that is?”
“Who, Chad, not what. The Meliai are the guardians of ash trees—like dryads but not for oaks. They’re usually quite shy, but Ashlyn—the queen—became greedy. She wanted all the hollows in trees for herself—all the acorns, all the sprites’ buckets of paint for autumn leaves. She wanted everything and robbed the poor fairies of their glamour.”
“And did Oberon ask for your help or something?”
Her laughter filled the air around them. “No, but he is quite grateful. I’ve begun the destruction of her home and the satyrs have taken her away to await trial.”
At the tree, Chad watched her pick up her axe and drive it deep into the notch. He hesitated, prompting her to ask, “Are you ready for me to step back?”
“You really do love this, don’t you?”
“I didn’t always, but I do more now. I think it’s the charm of the inconvenient. You don’t appreciate some things until they become very difficult to acquire or do.”
He set the chainsaw in the cart and pulled his axe from the holster on his back. “Then let’s do this.”
Chad drove his axe into the tree and jerked it out again. Willow followed a few seconds later. Alternating, they chopped a good sized notch into the north side of the tree. Chad wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Other side now?”
She examined it, measuring with her eyes before nodding. “It’s nearly center.” Her phone rang. “I think Kari’s hungry again. The sound of a wailing baby made her cross her arms over her chest. “Yep. On my way.”
“Why don’t you bring our lunch when you come back? We’ll eat out here.”
“You going to finish this one off?” She cringed at the disappointment in her tone.
“Nah. I’m going to start cutting up the dry ones and loading them in the cart.” He kissed her. “I’ll save this one for you.”
From the back door window, Marianne watched as Willow split log after log, carting each to the wood pile every few minutes. “How does she keep working? I’d be exhausted.”
Chad glanced up from feeding the boys their pre-dinner snack. “She is exhausted. Trust me. She’ll sleep through Kari’s cries tonight if I don’t wake her, but she’ll be invigorated for a week or more.”
“Marianne, remember that you feel the same way after a marathon shopping spree.” Christopher winked at Chad. “She could make it an Olympic event.”
“Cheri learned from the best,” Chad muttered. “Cheri can’t comprehend wanting to spend all day chopping wood and Willow can’t comprehend wanting to spend any time shopping for shopping’s sake.”
“Oh, did I tell you? Ryder came by while you were out cutting down those logs—”
“Not these logs, Mom. We cut these down last—never mind. What did Ryder want?”
“Just to see Kari.” Marianne’s eyes clouded with concern. “You don’t think that as he spends more time around her he’ll start regretting his decision, do you? I mean, I’ve heard of adoptions being reversed in favor of the biological parent.”
“It’s rare, Mom. And Ryder won’t. We’ve been trying to get him comfortable around her so he won’t avoid us so much. This is a good thing.”
“I’m just worried about Kari—and Willow. It would kill Willow to lose her now.”
“Aunt Libby would tell you to stop borrowing trouble.” Chad caught a piece of hardboiled egg mid-flight. “No, Lucas. Do—keep your food on your plate.”
Christopher reached over and nudged the yolk toward Liam. “You sound like you’re telling him not to.”
“Habit. I keep telling them, ‘Don’t do this. Don’t do that.’ Willow says I need to tell them what to do instead. So half the time it comes out like I’m telling them not to do what I want to do. I can’t decide which is more confusing.”
The sounds of Willow stomping off dirt, wood chips, and mud from her boots echoed from the back porch. She burst into the kitchen, glowing with the exertion of honest, hard work. “Whew! I got a week’s worth split. In just a couple of weeks, we’ll be set for winter.” She turned to Chad. “Want me to have Becca to stack some upstairs or do you want to do it?”
“I’ll do it. If we get random snow, though, you’d better call.” Chad pointed through the doorway. “Get up there and shower. I’ll put on steaks as soon as these guys get done with their eggs.”
“I’ll do it. We’ve got plenty of time. Be back in a few.”
Marianne and Chad exchanged amused glances. Chad stared before asking, “What?”
“She’s just so traditional in so many ways, but here you sit feeding the children while she’s out chopping wood. Then she comes in and is going to make dinner. It’s like that scene from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” Marianne laughed. “Except I think Willow would go crazy with one other woman in the house, much less six!”
Chapter 193
The loom clacked with each shove of the beater, the rhythm soothing her ragged nerves. The baby played on the floor, fighting to roll over and failing with every attempt. From her belly, she flipped onto her back within seconds, but on her back, she couldn’t manage. Every minute or two, she let out a squawk, but Willow ignored it.
It’s good for her to play where she can see me but not have her every whim attended to, isn’t it, Lord?” I’m exhausted. The boys have been so trying lately, and Kari wants to do more than she can. She’s not even three months old yet. If she’s like this now, what will it be like when she’s two, four, fourteen?
She glanced at the baby and found Kari grinning at her. “You know I’m praying about you, don’t you?”
Once more, Kari grinned. Willow shivered. “Is it cold in here to you?” She stepped over the fence and opened the woodstove. “Well, the fire’s low, but it shouldn’t be that cold in here.” Still, Willow added a log to the fire and cleaned up the mess she inevitably created when rushed. “I wonder what the temperature is.”
Shivering, she washed her hands and went to stare at the thermometer outside the kitchen window. “No wonder! It’s inching its way to zero. That’s mighty cold for November.” A peek in the living room showed Kari still on her back, arms and legs flailing in some baby sign language Willow had yet to decipher.
“I’m going to go check on the chickens. I assume Becca put them in, but still…”
Her eyes scanned the floor, looking for anything dangerous the baby might find—or do. “Mother, is this what it was like? Constantly debating between the dangers of leaving me alone in the house versus the danger of taking me with you? How did you ever decide?”
She reached for her coat. “I have an advantage, though. I can ask a dozen different people and I will. Just as soon as I check on those chickens.”
Outside, she glanced around for Portia but the dog seemed to have vanished. “Right into the barn like a smart dog,” she muttered. Willow pulled her hat down over her ears and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Wind’s coming up.” She frowned. “Now who am I talking to? I told Chad this talking to the baby all t
he time was going to start bad habits. Ugh.”
Her chickens were all in the coop, but the door stood open. She peeked her head in and found them all huddled together. “Sorry, ladies. I didn’t realize. I’ll get the heater on.”
Willow gave them water and feed and closed the doors, flipping on the switch to the heat. The larger coops off in the distance called to her, but Willow turned back to the house. Ten steps from the porch, she sighed and turned once more. A new thought slammed into her. Check the kids.
Inside, the warmth of the room enveloped her. Kari lay kicking and playing, seemingly oblivious to Willow’s absence. “Silly. Mama’s losing her mind.”
She turned to go but the same thought pressed on her. Check the boys. She almost ignored it. Paranoia. That’s all it is. To Kari she said, “I told you. Losing my mind.”
Against all her ideas of sense and reason, Willow dragged herself up the stairs and opened the boy’s’ door. Each lad lay sleeping, thumbs in mouths and little chests heaving with each breath. She pulled her glove from her hand and laid the back of it on each little forehead. No fever. The room provided adequate warmth, neither boy stirred when touched, and both breathed normally.
She turned and closed the door behind her. Confused.
“But nothing was wrong. Don’t you see? I really wonder at my sanity lately. I keep talking to myself when no one is around, I actually had a moment where I was sure Kari held her mess until the moment I pulled the diaper from beneath her, and now this? Hearing voices in my thoughts telling me to check on the children—the sleeping, unable to move from the spot children? It’s crazy.”
“I think it’s practice to keep you sensitive to your intuition. You tend to dismiss the idea as silly, but Dad tells me that Mom’s intuition saved Cheri’s life once and me from more injuries than you can imagine. If she’d listened to it about Linnea, we could have saved so much heartache—for all of us.” Chad tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Just do it. The day will come when you may be relieved that you did.”
“Seems crazy.”
“Or maybe,” Chad said as a new idea occurred to him. “Maybe it’s your subconscious’ way of reassuring you about being out there alone anyway. Didn’t you say you’d been ‘talking’ to Mother about how she had known when to go and when not to?”
“I suppose…”
“This is just your mind’s way of saying, ‘I’ve got this covered. I’ll remind you to check so you never have to wonder if you’re being careless.’”
Several seconds—half a minute or more—passed before she nodded. “That makes sense. I get it now.” She twiddled the colored pencil she held and stared at the pine boughs she’d been coloring. “Mother missed out on so much. I can’t imagine doing this without having you to talk things through with or without Mom to reassure me that I am not going to ruin my children before they can talk.”
Before Chad could speak, his phone rang. He stared at it, frowning. “Why is Luke calling at nine-thirty?” He answered. “Hey, Luke. What’s up?”
Listening, his eyes widened and he jumped up. “I’ll be right there. Would Willow be a help or—that’s what I thought. On my way.”
Concerned eyes watched him as he grabbed his shoes and began tying them. “Is Mrs. Milliken—”
“Came through just fine. They just got home and the house is a mess. One of the kids left the back door open and animals got in. The smell is pretty bad. Gonna go over there and help get it cleaned up so they can sleep.”
“Take the oatmeal bars. That way Aggie doesn’t have to make breakfast after this. It’s not healthy, but it’s filling.” She jumped up and set her lap desk on the coffee table. “Think she needs milk or—”
“No offense, lass, but she doesn’t want our milk. The kids won’t drink it.”
“Whatever. Maybe some peaches?”
Amused at her sudden attack of provision, Chad followed her to the pantry and watched as she loaded her arms with jars. “I’ve got that loaf of bread—”
“It’s enough. They aren’t destitute. They just need help cleaning up a house.” Filling his arms with the jars, he frowned. “Jacket first.”
The drive to Brant’s Corners gave him time to think—to reflect. Mid-November and he still had no clue as to what he’d do for Willow’s Christmas present. Maybe Argosy Junction would have a new CD by then. Maybe he could get Luke to help him draw up plans for the island Ralph Myner had suggested. If he built that, maybe Willow would get excited about a new kitchen if she had the one mental block removed. Would Josh have an idea? Maybe there was something new and exciting in the craft world that she’d love.
“That’s what I’ll do,” he muttered as he turned off the highway and into Brant’s Corners. “I’ll ask Josh. That man understands the way her mind thinks better than I ever can.” The words reverberated through the cab, taunting him more than he’d like to admit. A new thought occurred as he turned on Last Street. “Well, when it comes to the artsy craftsy stuff he does. He’ll never understand how she thinks about things like government, politics, property, and work.” Chad smiled as he pulled into Luke’s drive. “I may not always agree, but I definitely understand where she’s coming from. That counts.”
Laird met him before the truck came to a full stop. “Man, Uncle Chad, the house is disgusting. Uncle Luke says a skunk got in the basement.”
“I thought the back door got left open.”
“It did.” Laird beckoned for Chad to follow. Aggie and the youngest kids waved from the van as he passed. “Uncle Luke said they couldn’t come in. Too much for them to get into.” He leaned closer. “I don’t see how anyone is going to sleep tonight. I think we should go to a motel and come back tomorrow—or stay at Aunt Tina’s.” He frowned. “Except I think Aunt Tina is still in Yorktown.”
“It’s that bad?”
“I can smell cats everywhere. Then there’s the skunk smell coming up from the basement. Maybe even a dog.”
As Chad stepped into the house, he cringed. “Whew! No joke. Ugh.” He followed Laird through the house, stepping around obvious droppings left by unwelcome visitors. “This is criminal. Who left the door open?”
Laird blushed. I know I closed it. I know I did. But I was the last one.”
A groan from above sent Chad and Laird flying upstairs. “What?”
“Kids. Kids were in here. Look.”
Sinks stopped up with toilet paper, toilets overflowing with revolting messes. The mirror hung half there, with the other half broken across the countertop and floors. Fury filled Chad as he punched the number for the Sheriff station. “I’ll call out the deputies. This is vandalism. No animal did that.”
“But who would do it?” Luke glanced around him, discouragement settling on his shoulders almost visibly.
Laird ducked. “There were those kids—the ones who made Vannie cry.”
Chad stepped from the room as Megan answered. The end of the hall beckoned him. Before he could reach it, he saw Vannie’s room and groaned. “Luke, better check Vannie’s room.” He continued upstairs, describing the mess to Megan. “Yeah. Want me to get them out of the house?” At Megan’s affirmative, he disconnected the call. “C’mon, Luke. We’ve got to go. Megan wants us out of the house. We’ll have to wait here until she arrives, though.”
“Laird, why don’t you get in the van and tell them what’s going on. I’ll be right there.” Luke waited for the door to shut before he said, “Laird says a few kids were making fun of Vannie’s clothes—specifically that she was wearing a skirt with leggings in the rain the day before we left.”
“Why would kids care?”
“Laird says he didn’t think they would have, but Vannie got embarrassed and reacted—said some pretty ugly things about modesty and godliness.”
“How can modesty and godliness be ugly?” Chad glanced around, wondering what took Megan so long when you could travel across the breadth of Brant’s Corners in two point five minutes.
“It’s ugly wh
en it’s used to lash out at others. Apparently she blasted the kids. Laird swears he shut the door, but I think he might have forgotten to lock it. Those kids walk by, see the dogs gone, try the doors…”
“And payback time.” Chad glanced toward the van. “This’ll kill her.”
“I told Laird to keep it to himself—for now.”
The lights of Megan’s cruiser appeared as the car turned onto the street and then rolled into the drive behind Chad’s truck. Chad strode out to meet her. “Looks like kids. Luke says there was a bit of an altercation with some kids just before they left for Yorktown. This sounds like they took advantage of an unlocked door. It was wide open when they got home, but that was probably the kids.”
“Do they know whose kids?” Megan nodded at Luke. “I’ll have you walk me through after I get some pictures.”
“Luke, can you get Laird out and see if he knows the name of the kids. We’ll be right back.”
Just inside the door, Megan paused. “You’ll have to wait here. Sorry. Jurisdiction and all that stuff. Once William and Burt get here and we get this processed, I want your input, but we’ve got to protect ourselves. You understand.”
Chad did understand. He just didn’t like it. He stood outside the door, shivering as he waited for some news from Luke. Twice, he heard Megan react to some scent or scene. A perverse side of him he hadn’t expected liked it—liked it a bit too much.
The van door shut and Luke crossed the yard and climbed the steps. “Laird isn’t sure. Vannie probably knows. Do I ask her?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Chad stuck his head in the door. “Megan, what’s your number?”
“What?”
Frustrated, Chad tried again. “Phone. Gimme your number. I’ve got questions.”
“So ask!”
“Just gimme the number!”
Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 6 Page 12
